#I have to laugh at all the times people speculate she’s quitting drag and/or retiring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbangsoonie · 3 years

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find me in your memory

member: sangyeon genre: angst word count: 10,200 synopsis: when you return to korea in hopes of recovering your lost memories, one of your new housemates seems oddly familiar. warning(s): inaccurate depiction of amnesia

Prologue:

You had locked yourself in a bathroom stall to run away from everyone’s obvious trying-not-to-stare glances. Your hand clenched around your phone as you stared at the top trending news article. Your father had officially announced his plans to advance his political career and alongside his name were the names of the rest of your family. Your mother, a renown actress. Your brother, a retired swimmer and a rising musician. And you, a rookie model who already walked in various fashion shows.

You were annoyed that your father chose today of all days to release the news. Today was White Day, meaning that boys were throwing you sweets left and right. You hated the extra attention and hated that you had to maintain elegance through it all. It was already bad enough that tonight was some fancy party your father arranged for the purpose of publicity and networking. You would be hiding under a mask all day and night now.

You sighed at the sound of the bell ringing to notify the students that lunch time was over. You dragged yourself out of the bathroom and braced yourself before you returned to your classroom.

People had already whispered about you in the hallways but your classroom erupted into full blown gossip. You heard guys discussing the news and girls expressing their jealousy.

“I guess the princess might actually become a princess now.” one girl said rather loudly. “Look at her. Pretending not to hear all of us. She must think we’re too lowly to even converse with.”

Her friend’s eyes widened at her bold outburst and tried to shush her.

“What? I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” the girl freed herself from her friend’s grasp and blatantly stood in front of your desk. “Tell me, Y/n, am I wrong?”

You looked up to meet her eyes with a neutral expression. You wanted nothing more than to grab the opportunity to pick a fight with her. But you knew you would face repercussions with your parents so all you could do was force a small smile.

Before the girl could say something more, your homeroom teacher entered the room. Everyone quickly dispersed and found their seats.

“Y/n? Your father’s secretary is here to pick you up. You’ll be leaving school early today.” he said.

The statement prompted more hushed whispers as your classmates speculated the reason why you were being pulled out of class. Without a word, you grabbed your backpack and left. The secretary led you out of the building and into a black car.

You pulled out your phone and earbuds to accompany you for the ride. Closing your eyes, you rested your head on the window and increased the volume of your music. Your brother had sent you the guide for the song he was working on and asked for your opinion. You had grumpily agreed, slightly irked that he only contacted you for things like this.

You hated Younghoon for leaving you alone in this family. He was your father’s pride and joy when he was a national athlete. Granted, he was miserable his whole life pursuing swimming when all he wanted to do was sing. But still, you never expected him to suddenly retire and switch careers without confronting your parents. He simply packed up and left. Without a warning or explanation, he just moved out. By himself. Without you.

Now, all the burden of maintaining the family’s image was on you. You had been pushed into the modeling industry so your father could have a pretty face to marry off later on. However, with Younghoon leaving the sports scene, your father was furious that your entire family were all entertainers without higher aspirations. It was too late for you to learn a sport so now you were to get accepted into Seoul University’s business school. Your father insisted on having at least one socially respectable child.

Your brother spent the last couple of years cutting contact with the family. He refused to attend events or partake in promotional photoshoots. The only time you could ever see him was when he came to take the annual family portrait. That was the only duty he would now fulfill as the eldest son of the Kim family.

You hated him but you also couldn’t despise him. If your affection for him were to turn sour, you’d truly be alone in this world. Yet you were still upset every time your calls went to his voicemail and he replied with a text hours later to apologize. You knew he was busy making up for lost time but it still hurt that he was able to enjoy his freedom while you remained suffocated.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.” the secretary spoke.

You opened your eyes and saw that the car pulled up in front of a beauty salon. You sighed, realizing you would have to get your hair and makeup done. So you went, sitting in front of a mirror for hours as people hovered around you to make you presentable for the reporters that would welcome you with endless camera flashes. By the time they finished, you were given a white silky dress to wear. It was as if your parents wanted to send you off to get married right away.

Keeping your complaints to yourself, you got dressed and were rushed to the party. Your parents were already inside, meaning you had to face the cameras alone. Reporters shouted questions at you; the topics ranged from your outfit to your father’s political plans to your brother’s absence. Ignoring them all, you put on your capitalistic smile and posed. You then bid them goodbye and entered the venue.

It was packed with politicians and businessmen. You walked around, looking for the protagonist of this event. Your father had organized tonight under the guise of celebrating your mother’s upcoming film but the true celebration was the release of today’s news. He was here to garner support for his political campaign and he sure had a flamboyant way of doing it.

“My daughter!” you heard your mother’s voice call out.

You turned around and saw your mother beckoning you over. You put on another smile as you approached your parents. Your father pulled you in for a light hug and introduced you to the man in front of him.

“Y/n, this is Assemblyman Lee. We’ve grown quite close this past year. Assemblyman Lee, this is the daughter I’ve been bragging to you about. She’s even prettier in person, right?” he let out a hearty laugh.

You respectfully bowed and personally introduced yourself to the assemblyman.

“Yes, she is very beautiful indeed.” Assemblyman Lee agreed, joining his laughter. He then presented the tall male next to him. “This is my son, Juyeon. I believe he is the same age as you, Y/n.”

“He plays basketball and even modeled for Seoul Fashion Week.” your father mentioned. “Perhaps you’ve seen or heard of him before?”

“I think we may have passed by each other once or twice that day.” you smiled. To be honest, it was your first time meeting him.

“Assemblyman Lee and I get along like family and we were talking about becoming an actual family once you graduate college.” your father beamed.

Those words made your stomach drop. You knew you’d never get to choose your own partner but now that it was actually happening, you froze. Reality suddenly hit you like a truck. You were never going to have control over anything in your life. You were nothing but a pawn in your father’s journey to the Blue House.

You looked over at Juyeon who looked just as uncomfortable as you. This was the man who you were probably going to spend the rest of your life with and you had no idea what he was like. For all you knew, he could end up hating your guts. You felt panic taking over and excused yourself for an urgent visit to the bathroom.

Your vision was blurred as you quickly exited the ballroom and desperately searched for a private room. All you could think about was your brother.

Younghoon.

You needed him. His name was the only thing your brain could think of. You needed him to tell you that everything would be okay. That he would come save you. You knew it would be a lie but you needed to hear it anyway.

Once you found an unlocked storage room, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor. With trembling hands, you dialed your brother’s number and waited for him to pick up. You called him five times but only heard the line ring. Fighting back tears, you cursed him in your head.

You spent the next half hour trying to calm yourself down. Squatting down, you rocked back and forth with your hands covering your ears to block out the noise outside. Your hyperventilation was slowing and you weren’t struck by the fear of dying anymore. By the time you settled down, you felt numb.

With a solemn expression, you stepped out of the storage room. Avoiding the crowd, you wandered around until you found a back exit. Before you opened the door, however, you realized how much you’d stand out in your current attire. You called for the secretary and asked for one of your spare school uniforms. You changed into the blouse and skirt but left out the tie and jacket. Not having sneakers to change into, you kept your heels on.

You insisted that he return to the party and not follow you. You promised you’d be home by evening and shooed him away.

Now that you were finally free, you didn’t know where to go. School was already dismissed but the sun had yet to set. Without any plans, you just started walking. As you kept walking, you found yourself in front of your school.

You laughed in disbelief. Apparently this was the only place other than home that you knew. Finding yourself pathetic, you continued to walk up the path to the building.

The soccer team was still on the field practicing. You sat on a bench, watching them run and kick the ball around. You didn’t know a thing about the sport but found it oddly soothing to mindlessly stare.

After a while, you got tired of it and got up. You let your feet decide where to go next and ended up on the rooftop. The sky was now a golden color. You didn’t remember when you last saw such a view.

At that moment, your phone rang. It was Younghoon finally returning your missed calls. You stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up or not. By his second call, you decided to answer.

“Y/n! Is something wrong? Are you okay?” he asked as soon as you clicked “accept”.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to his question. Looking back, you wondered if you had ever been “okay” in your life. Was this living or was this just enduring?

“I’m so sorry I missed your calls. I was at the recording studio.” he apologized. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” you lied. “I just missed you. A lot.”

You heard him let out a sigh of relief. Then his guilty voice.

“I miss you too.” he paused. “Listen, I’m extremely sorry for leaving you to deal with Father. I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore. I felt like I was gonna go insane. I could put up with everything but his demand to quit music. That was the last straw. It was the only bit of freedom I ever enjoyed and I couldn’t have that taken away from me as well.”

“But what about my freedom?” you wanted to ask.

“I know I’m a terrible brother. And an even worse son.” he admitted.

Not wanting him to feel sorry, you muttered a soft “whatever”.

“Once I finish recording this song, I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to sneak you out for a sibling date.” he said.

This was the seventh time he made this promise. Either he was always too busy or you could never escape the tight schedule set for you. But like the six other times before, you pretended to believe it.

The call ended soon after and you were left alone in silence. The tranquility on the roof contrasted the storm inside your head. You had spent your entire life striving to achieve your parents’ impossible standards. You were never enough. Never smart enough. Never pretty enough. Never social enough.

Everyone at school saw you as little miss perfect. It brought you both unwanted attention and hatred. People saw you as unapproachable and snobby. Some even expressed their disgust at how fake you seemed. At the same time, there were those who wanted to use you and your connections. There was always someone who wanted something from you.

You felt trapped.

The edge of the roof seemed to call and entice you. As if in a trance, you walked over to the wall and climbed on top of it. You sat on the ledge and took in a deep breath. You stared at the sight in front of you. Most of the soccer team had left school grounds by now. You only heard scattered voices here and there. It was probably the remaining students hollering at each other across the field.

The rest of the world seemed so peaceful. It felt like you were the only one unable to escape chaos. You swung your legs, enjoying the evening breeze. You didn’t want to ever leave this spot.

Your phone vibrated, notifying you of a new message.

“You’ll be meeting Juyeon this weekend. I expect it to go better than tonight.” it read.

Your grip on the device tightened. Without giving you a break, another message from your father arrived.

“Also, your exam scores came out. Your ranking dropped to fourth place. We’ll talk at home.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to pull your hair out and cry. Instead, you stood up and glared at the phone in your hand. Your hand was now trembling because of how tightly you were holding it.

By now, emotions were beyond you. Feeling pity for yourself was nothing but a waste of time. It didn’t fix things and it surely didn’t make you feel any better. You were just tired of it all.

Allowing yourself one last angry outburst, you threw your phone down. You didn’t watch it fall from the roof and hit the ground. It instantly broke on contact. Unbeknownst to you, the fall startled a male student passing by.

“What the heck?” Sangyeon exclaimed out loud. He had stuck around after school to watch Sunwoo’s soccer practice. They were about to head out for dinner when he remembered that he left his wallet in his locker. He had sent his friend ahead first as he ran back inside to grab it.

He took a closer look at what almost hit his head and was puzzled to see a phone. Looking for the lunatic who nearly killed him, he lifted his head to see where it came from. After his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he gasped when he saw you standing on the ledge of the rooftop. Getting a bad feeling, he found himself running up the steps. The whole time, “please don’t die” raced through his head.

By the time he made it up to the roof, he was sweaty and out of breath. He wanted to collapse in exhaustion but his eyes widened as you began to inch towards the edge. His body reacted before his mind and he ran to pull you off.

The sudden grip on your wrist spun you around and you fell in what felt like slow motion. You landed on the boy’s chest that was breathing hard. You could hear his heart pump like crazy and his eyes were still closed in fright.

Realizing what just happened, you quickly got off him and dusted yourself off.

“What was that for?” you asked in a hostile tone.

Finally catching his breath, he opened his eyes and jumped up. His eyes almost bulged when he recognized your face.

“Are you crazy?” he yelled, pretending not to know who you were.

“You’re the crazy one butting into other people’s business.” you frowned.

For someone who was about to jump off a building, you looked eerily calm. Sangyeon searched for any signs of distress in your eyes but could only spot annoyance. Still, his gut told him that something was wrong. The empty look on your face scared him.

“Well while we’re in the middle of crazy anyway, why don’t you tell me what pushed you this far?” he bravely inquired. “Bottling everything inside alone will only make things worse. It’s better to just spill everything to a complete stranger you won’t ever see again.”

It was out of character for him to be so nosy but he strangely felt a strong desire to help you. As for you, you normally would have walked away from this situation minutes ago. Yet you still stood in front of this odd boy who demanded to be your impromptu diary.

He intrigued you. He was knocking at the stone wall you put up years ago. He seemed so bright and innocent. It bothered you.

Despite your irritation, something about his eyes made yours water. The way his eyes softened as he looked at you made you feel vulnerable. It seemed as if he could read you like an open book. It brought a wave of emotions you had suppressed for so long.

He stepped closer and offered you a comforting pat on the shoulder. The second his hand made contact, your tears finally escaped and ran down your face. You hadn’t felt the warmth of another human since you last saw your brother. The sudden consolation broke you. Then, like the domino effect, your sobs turned into bawling as your facade crumbled at last.

Sangyeon was shocked to say the least. He never would have thought the Y/n would be crying in his arms. In fact, he never expected to ever cross paths with you. He had only ever heard of you through other students’ gossip. They painted you out to be cold-hearted but the sight in front of him said otherwise.

Hesitantly, he pulled you in for a hug. Recalling how his mom used to comfort him, he tried to soothe you by slowly patting your back. The two of you stayed like that until your cries eventually faded out. Embarrassment belatedly hit you and awkward silence hung in the air. You felt like you owed him an explanation but you couldn’t even pinpoint the exact reason for your actions.

“Thank you.” you muttered softly while sniffling.

Sangyeon smiled in response and rummaged through his pocket to find something. He pulled out a lollipop and handed it to you.

“Even being sad takes energy. You should recharge your blood sugar.” he said as he placed it in your own pocket when you didn’t move to accept it. “Let it all out from time to time. It’s not healthy to always keep negativity inside you.”

You dwelled on his words for a moment. No one had ever told you that before. Everyone was always telling you to tolerate things. You weren’t allowed to disagree with your parents. You had to accept and deal with Younghoon’s departure without expressing how upset you were. You were expected to quietly receive criticism and never retaliate. You figured it was only a matter of time before the pressure eventually set off the bomb inside you. Like today.

Up until now, you thought the only solution for the explosion would be to just end it all. It never occurred to you that you could begin to disobey everything you were taught.

“Thank you.” you repeated. With that, you got up to leave.

“W-Wait!” he called out, causing you to pause. “Where are you going?”

“To eat dinner. You said it takes energy to be sad, right?” you smiled.

Sangyeon didn’t expect to see you again the next day. Cramming last minute for a test, he opted to skip lunch and study at the library instead. After he settled down, he looked up to see across the table. He had to fight the urge to gape.

Feeling someone’s gaze on you, you lifted your head to see the boy in front of you. Recognizing his face, you quickly shut your book closed and got up to leave. He was left flabbergasted at your blatant avoidance of him.

Meanwhile, you were cursing in your head. You chastised yourself for not realizing that he also went to your school. Stupidly, you hadn’t made the connection the day before on the rooftop. Of course he was only there at that hour because he was a student there. Now you were extremely humiliated. And afraid that rumors would spread.

“Hey, wait up!” he called out as he chased after you, earning him a stern glare from the librarian. You didn’t listen and only quickened your pace.

Unfortunately for you, his long legs easily caught up with you. He gently grabbed your wrist to stop you from running away. You scowled when you realized he wouldn’t just ignore you.

“Why are you pretending that you don’t know me?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know who you are,” you deadpanned. Your words rendered him speechless and after a few seconds of silence, you turned around to leave.

“Well, my name is Sangyeon,” he persisted, pointing at his name tag.

He spent the next couple of weeks following you around. At first, you found him annoying. He reminded you of your lowest point in life. But slowly, he wormed his way into your heart and established a place for himself there.

He would greet you each morning with a cheeky smile and a carton of banana milk. To be honest, you didn’t even like banana milk. Yet, you found yourself looking forward to it every day.

Eventually, you two formed an unbreakable bond. He was your only friend and all your free time was spent with him. Every time you felt suffocated by your parents, you reached out to Sangyeon for comfort. You never disclosed anything to him but his presence alone cheered you up. He made you focus on him and forget about everything else. You should’ve known that it was inevitable for you to fall for him.

He was that upperclassman that all the younger female students fawned over. You hated to admit it but you were also among the many who thought he was charming. You felt a pang of jealousy whenever you saw other girls swoon over him as he passed by.

Gradually, your personality began to shift into becoming more lively. You were grateful to have him show you the little things in life. You grew to like yourself and the world a little more.

Present:

You stared at the house in front of you. Twelve years ago, you left this house and town to attend school in Seoul. Seven years ago, you left Korea to move to California. Now, you were back as an adult. It felt strange.

Feeling the winter breeze chill your bones, you shuddered at the cold temperature and hurried inside. You were surprised at how neat the place was; you assumed that someone had been sent to save you from the hassle of cleaning.

Trudging up the stairs, you struggled with your large suitcase. You found your old childhood bedroom and roughly unpacked. Having only less than twelve hours until your new housemates moved in, you felt rushed to get the house ready to meet them. You decided to just wash up and sleep tonight and wake up early in the morning to go grocery shopping.

So you slipped into unconsciousness and spent a relatively quiet night. It wasn’t until morning that you were awoken by a dream. It was the same dream that haunted you for the past seven years. Ever since the accident, the same recurring scene appeared to you in your sleep. To be honest, the exact events were fuzzy but it always left you with the same nostalgic and longing feelings. It bothered you how uneasy it made you feel.

You groaned, noting that your alarm clock hadn’t even rung yet. With a loud sigh, you got up and got dressed. With over a decade between your last visit and the present, you relied on the GPS to navigate your way around the unfamiliar neighborhood.

As you walked around the quiet streets, you took the time to enjoy the scenery. You came back to this town to escape the city life but appreciated that it wasn’t entirely in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, there was a supermarket nearby. There, you picked out a bunch of ingredients you figured would be used often. You didn’t cook much but wanted to change that.

The trip took longer than expected and you picked up your speed to make it back home before your housemates arrived. You let out a breath of relief when you returned and saw that no one was stuck outside waiting. Humming to a song you didn’t remember the title of, your steps were light as you put away the groceries. When you finished, you took a proper look at the house and were displeased at how bare it was. You made a mental note to buy decorations later to fill your new place with signs of human habitation.

At that moment, the bell rang. Suddenly feeling a bit nervous, you ran to the door. When you opened it, you were greeted by four males who seemed surprised at your appearance.

“Hello! Are you the tenants moving in today?” you asked.

“Yes, I believe we spoke with your… brother? On the phone,” one answered.

“It was probably my father’s secretary that you’ve been in contact with,” you said as you opened the door wider to let them inside. “Please, come in.”

They followed you into the house and dragged their luggage behind them. Once they were all inside, you extended your hand towards them.

“My name is Y/n and I will be the one living here with you all,” you introduced.

“My name is Jacob! I hope we get along well,” the one who first spoke grinned as he shook your hand.

You went down the line, greeting and shaking hands with Changmin and Jaehyun. By the time you got to the last person, however, your hand was left hanging. He stared at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“I’m Sangyeon. Lee Sangyeon,” he finally said, taking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sangyeon,” you smiled.

You offered them a tour of the house and showed them their respective rooms. While they unpacked, you offered to order food. It was approaching noon and you still hadn’t eaten breakfast. They declined at first but gave in when you insisted on treating them.

By the time the food was delivered, the five of you gathered in the kitchen. You were pouring water for everyone and Jacob began to take out the bowls.

“Jajangmyun is fitting for today, right?” you commented on the Korean tradition of eating Chinese food on moving days.

After everyone was seated, you gestured for them to dig in and began eating. You let out a sigh of happiness at the taste you had missed in the United States. Korean food there just wasn’t the same as Korean food back at home.

“So, Y/n, how did you end up in this town?” Sangyeon asked. Something about his eyes felt intimate yet you still couldn’t pinpoint the reason why.

“I actually just arrived in Korea last night,” you chuckled. “I’ve been living abroad for a while.”

“Abroad? Really?” Jacob perked. “I used to live overseas as well! Toronto, to be exact.”

“I stayed in California for the most part,” you clarified.

“Oh really? California? Los Angeles?” Changmin asked in English. You giggled at his slight accent, finding it cute.

“Yes, I lived in L.A. for 7 years,” you said in English, laughing when Jaehyun’s eyes widened at your pronunciation.

While the four of you chatted, Sangyeon stayed quiet. He watched as Jaehyun asked you about life in America and Changmin told you about the time he visited New York City. He felt a twinge of jealousy when Jacob conversed with you in English.

“It’s definitely Y/n. It has to be. She looks exactly like her and has the same name. But why is she acting like she doesn’t know me? There’s no way she doesn’t remember me,” Sangyeon thought.

The next morning, you woke up early again due to jet lag. Throwing a robe over your pajamas, you headed downstairs to start making breakfast. You rummaged through the fridge, pondering on what to cook. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone else enter the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, startling you.

With a slight jump, you turned around to see Sangyeon. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and exchanged greetings with him. He spotted the gleam of a necklace hidden under your robe and furrowed his brows.

“That’s the necklace I got her. It’s Y/n for sure,” he thought.

Again, you felt his piercing gaze on you. Still unable to understand why he kept staring at you, you awkwardly turned back around. Sangyeon walked towards the kettle to make himself a cup of tea, still conscious of your presence. With that, he went back up to his room, leaving you alone once again.

Eyeing the bag of sliced bread, you decided to just settle for toast. After the simple meal, you went back to your room to get ready. It was the weekend and you planned on shopping for little trinkets to furnish the house with.

When you came back, you found your new cohabitants watching TV in the living room. You politely refused their help with the bags, setting them down on the table. You pulled out a few small photo frames and held them out to show them.

“Aren’t these adorable?” you beamed. “I was thinking of decorating the place with photos. You know, to add some warmth and humanity. Feel free to take a couple and add your own pictures.”

You placed a handful of the frames in front of them, encouraging them to take some. After excusing yourself for a second, you quickly ran up to your room to grab the printed photos on your desk. When you rejoined the group in the living room, you began to insert them into the picture frames.

“Is this from your high school entrance day?” Jaehyun asked, holding a photograph up.

“Yup,” you nodded. “To be honest, though, I don’t really remember much from high school.”

Changmin, finding a photo of you in front of the Hollywood sign, asked if it was taken during your college years.

“Ah, yes that’s when I first began my life in America. I was both anxious and eager to leave Korea behind,” you said, unaware of Sangyeon's wince at your words.

“Oh… Would it be okay for me to ask why?” Jacob asked.

“Of course. It’s all in the past,” you laughed. “I had some bad memories in Seoul and left abruptly at the end of my last year of high school. That was when I moved to L.A. to start anew.”

Sangyeon recalled the day you disappeared. He had texted you, asking to meet at the playground. After finding out about a misunderstanding you had, he wanted to resolve it as soon as possible. He waited there for hours but you never showed. You missed school for a week before your teacher suddenly announced that you would not be returning.

And that was the end of his friendship with you. You left without a warning or farewell. Now, you stood in front of him again. After seven years, he was reunited with you as an adult. He was both excited and confused. When he first saw you at the door, he wanted to blurt your name out and catch up on all the missed time. But when you introduced yourself to him as if it was your first meeting, he found himself doing the same.

At every encounter, you acted as if he was a stranger. At first, he thought you forgot about him and it hurt. But now, he supposed that you just wanted to forget about him. When you mentioned that you had bad memories of Seoul and that you were glad to start fresh in Los Angeles, he realized that he was nothing but a painful past to you.

So he put on a poker face and went along with your little act. For a month, he kept his distance from you and made sure to stay within the strict boundaries of a landlord and a tenant. While his friends grew close to you, he remained reserved.

“Why are you so cold to Y/n?” Changmin once asked him. Sangyeon never answered the question and continued to keep his facade up.

Meanwhile, you were clueless as to why Sangyeon was so standoffish. You had asked his friends, who were a lot more pleasant, if he was normally inhospitable to new people. At their unnatural attempts to change the subject, you figured it was just you that he disliked.

Still, Sangyeon couldn’t hide his innate desire to take care of you in his own ways. Every time your favorite snack ran low in the pantry, he would stack up on it next time he went to the mart. Knowing you hated the cold, he would make sure to keep the house temperature high—even when Jaehyun went to lower it, complaining that he was hot. When you fell asleep on the couch, he would cover you with the blanket you kicked to the floor.

The boy in front of you was extremely close as he reached behind your shoulders to put the necklace on for you. You held your breath and felt your heart race.

“There,” he grinned proudly. “How pretty.”

“Me or the necklace?” you asked, half joking and half serious. He shrugged, prompting you to playfully punch his arm.

“Now you’re forever indebted to me, Y/n. That’s a one of a kind necklace you can’t find anywhere else. Be honored I made it for you,” he declared. You rolled your eyes at his arrogance but still smiled nonetheless.

“Since I gave you this, you can’t ever forget me, okay?” he made you promise.

Your eyes opened, waking you up from your dream. Finding it odd how vivid it was, you frowned and sat up. You wondered if it was a part of your missing memory.

The view outside your window revealed a white wonderland, reminding you that the weather forecast predicted a snowstorm today. You groaned, remembering that today was also the day that you would be alone with Sangyeon. Jacob was on a business trip whereas Changmin and Jaehyun went to their hometowns to visit their parents.

“The snow just has to lock us inside this house today of all days,” you mumbled as you snuggled back into your blanket.

You closed your eyes, wanting to sleep a little more. After half an hour of trying to fall back asleep, you gave up with an exasperated sigh. You changed into a sweatshirt and went downstairs to make yourself some hot chocolate.

To your surprise, Sangyeon was already in the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate. You both froze, not knowing how to interact without at least one of the other three guys.

“Here, you can have this one. I’ll make myself another one,” he finally spoke, handing you the cup topped with marshmallows.

You muttered a word of thanks as you wrapped your hands around the warm drink. Looking at the window, you saw that the snow was piling up a lot already. In an attempt to break through the walls Sangyeon had built around you, you mustered up the courage to ask if he wanted to watch a movie together. Taken aback, he nodded before he even fully processed your question.

That’s how the two of you ended up on the coach with a randomly chosen film playing on the TV screen. The movie was better than you thought it’d be. The subtle love line brought a comedic relief in such an action-packed plot. You enjoyed it until the main character ended up with amnesia; it made you uncomfortable as it reminded you of your own accident. Noticing that you weren’t focusing on the movie anymore, Sangyeon paused it and asked if you wanted to stop watching.

Not wanting to ruin the mood, you shook your head. He stared at you for a bit before turning it off. Although you were relieved, you felt bad because he seemed to be enjoying the film.

Trying to make up for it, you offered to make lunch. At his reluctance, you insisted since you both had to eat and delivery would take a long time. He followed you into the kitchen, watching as you surfed the internet for recipes.

You managed to keep the conversation flowing as you cooked. You asked about his job and he asked about your experience as a college student in another country. You were happy that he was finally opening up to you. By the end of the meal, you felt comfortable enough to share a little more about yourself.

“To be honest, I was very hesitant about coming back to Korea. When I left seven years ago, I left behind a lot,” you began.

“Yeah, you left me behind,” Sangyeon wanted to say. Instead, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I mentioned before that I don’t remember much of my high school years. The only memories I have of back then are whatever my parents told me. Which isn’t much. They were always too busy to know what went on in my life,” you stated.

Trying to piece the information together, he carefully asked what you meant by that.

“I got into a car accident seven years ago,” you sheepishly revealed, making his eyes widen. “Apparently I was in a coma for about a week. When I woke up, I was told that I was suffering from amnesia. I was hospitalized for another few weeks to recover and then sent to California to be with my cousin, Eric. There, I went through physical therapy and attended university. I was hoping to leave behind my trauma in Korea.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t know you went through all that,” he stammered, embarrassed.

“I feel like there’s a part of my life that I’m missing and I hate it,” you confessed. “I get these dreams sometimes and I think it might be my missing memories but I’m not too sure.”

The two of you fell into silence. Sangyeon despised himself for not knowing what happened. He had been too busy pitying himself to stop and think from your perspective. He didn’t deserve to have you remember him. He figured it was best that you forgot him. There was no point in disclosing everything now anyway.

After that day, you thought you had gotten closer to Sangyeon. Contrary to your expectations, however, you grew even more distant. At first, you thought you were overthinking. But as the week went on, it became obvious that he was indeed avoiding you.

Eventually, Jacob confronted him about it. He trapped his best friend and demanded an explanation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sangyeon lied with a straight face. Sighing, Jacob let it go. He knew that he couldn’t force anything out of him.

Despite Sangyeon’s efforts to keep away from you, he still continued to quietly do little things for you. Luckily for him, you didn’t notice. You didn’t think twice about the pot of coffee that was always prepared every morning or your shoes that were neatly put away after you left them scattered at the entrance.

You didn’t know why you felt so disappointed. You didn’t realize that you had grown attached to him as time passed by. Something about him felt familiar and comfortable. Yet, at the same time, he felt like a challenge. He was aloof but occasionally had moments that showed his soft side. He intrigued you.

“Y/n, you can’t keep associating yourself with that boy. Imagine how shocked we were when we heard those rumors about you two dating! You know your father has plans for you and Juyeon,” your mother chided.

“It’s the 21st century! I am not getting into an arranged marriage. Especially not just for the sake of father’s political ambitions,” you yelled.

A slap was delivered to your face. The sound was loud and you felt your cheek throb in pain. Bewildered, you glared at the woman in front of you. Deeming your action as disrespectful, your mother slapped you once again.

“You don’t even deserve to be called a mother,” you spat.

With that, you stormed out of the house. The boy your mother demanded you to stay away from wasn’t even your boyfriend. You had hoped that he would be one day but that hope dissipated when you saw another girl in his arms earlier that day. Tears blinded your vision as you fumbled for your phone. You called Eric, praying that he would pick up despite the time difference. To your relief, he did and his voice caused you to sob.

“Y/n? Y/n, what’s wrong?” Eric asked, concerned.

You barely managed to tell him what was going on in between your cries. He tried to calm you down but it was futile. You weren’t listening. You were too busy running away. Too busy to notice the car that was speeding towards you.

You woke up gasping for air. Your heart was beating fast as you checked your surroundings. Once you realized that you were in your room and not on the streets, you relaxed.

“Was that just a dream? Or a flashback?” you murmured. You brushed it off, blaming your return to Korea for these weird dreams.

Eric was landing in Korea today and you were thrilled. You missed him greatly and couldn’t wait to see him again. You glanced at the clock to check the time. You had to leave soon to greet him at the airport. Quickly getting dressed, you hummed in excitement.

On your way down, you heard the doorbell ring. You cocked your head, wondering if one of the guys had invited a guest. You shouted out that you’d get the door and ran to open it.

“Surprise!” Eric yelled, holding a bouquet of flowers.

It took you a moment to process the scene in front of you. You blinked a few times before you squealed and jumped into his arms. He laughed, dropping the flowers to hold onto you. The noise brought your housemates downstairs with curiosity. You quickly introduced everyone to each other and pulled your cousin inside once they finished exchanging greetings.

“I thought your plane was landing in an hour!” you exclaimed.

“I told you the wrong time so I could come surprise you instead,” he winked.

You didn’t notice Eric staring Sangyeon down but Sangyeon definitely did. He tried to ignore it, assuming that your cousin just wasn’t happy with the fact that you were living with four males.

You spent the rest of the day catching up with Eric and exploring your neighborhood together. You showed him your favorite cafe and feasted on the waffles there. He filled you in on how his parents—your aunt and uncle—were doing. They drilled him to make sure he told you how much they missed you, making you giggle. As proof of his completed mission, he took a selfie with you to send to them.

“I miss them too,” you pouted. “I better video call them soon. It’s hard trying to match the time zone and their work schedule.”

“Or,” he dragged out the word expectantly. “You could just move back to L.A.”

“Eric, you know why I came back. And what it took for me to do so.”

“I know, I know. But I honestly don’t know how I feel about you trying to retrieve your memory. Maybe some things are better left forgotten?”

“For the past seven years, something in the corner of my brain has been irking me. I know I’m forgetting something important. I feel it.”

He sighed and put his hands up as a sign of defeat.

“Just remember that if you don’t find what you’re looking for or if you aren’t happy with what you find, you can always go back to join me in L.A.” he said softly.

It was a hard secret to keep from you for almost a decade. In exchange for calling off your arranged marriage, your parents made him promise to never tell you about what happened the day of the accident. You moving to Los Angeles was the solution your parents came up with to keep you away from that past.

Seeing Sangyeon at your house gave him a bad feeling. He didn’t know what he told you and was scared that it was only a matter of time before your memories returned after seeing him so often.

Before Eric left for Seoul, he pulled Sangyeon aside to give him a warning.

“I don’t know why you’re lingering around my cousin but I know who you are,” Eric glared. “I obviously don’t know the whole story of what happened back when you two were in high school but I don’t quite like you. If you’re simply here for a place to live, keep it that way. Don’t put anything in Y/n’s head. She doesn’t need to remember what you did to her.”

“What I did to her?” Sangyeon repeated, confused. “But I didn’t- wait, are you talking about-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Eric interrupted. “You led her on and then hugged another girl right in front of her.”

“The girl she saw me with wasn’t my girlfriend. She suddenly came up to me and confessed. That hug was initiated by her and was one sided. I found out about that misunderstanding and was trying to clear it up the day she disappeared.”

“Does it matter anymore after all these years?” Eric sighed. “Listen, you have no idea what Y/n went through back then and what was sacrificed to let her live the way she wanted to.”

“If there’s something you want to tell me, don’t beat around the bush,” Sangyeon frowned. Eric let out an exasperated sigh, conflicted. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to reveal details to him but he felt that it was necessary.

“That day. Y/n’s parents found out about how you two had a thing. There were rumors going around and it reached their ears. I don’t know if Y/n ever told you but they already had a guy in mind for her. Some stupid politics shit. Obviously, she said that was ridiculous but what power does a teenager have over their parents? She was fighting so hard for you but it was all in vain. You broke her heart.”

Sangyeon’s face crumbled at his words. You had never told him about the struggles you had in your home but he should have caught on from the day he first met you.

“That accident took away her memory. For better or for worse. She forgot all about the guy her parents pushed her towards and she forgot about the pain you caused her. And to be quite frank, I want it to stay that way. She came back to Korea to recover her memories but she deserves peace and happiness. She doesn’t need any more dramatic twists in her life. If you still truly care for her, you would agree,” your cousin said before he left.

A figure stood in front of you. You couldn’t see the face but there was a sense of familiarity. It was the same boy from your previous dreams.

“How could you not remember me, Y/n?” he asked.

You wanted to hold his hand and try to recall who he was. You wanted to hug him and tell him that you didn’t intentionally forget him. But your body would not move according to your will.

You awoke to a pounding head and sore throat. Feeling your nose run, you reached out for a tissue. You moaned in pain, realizing you had a bodyache as well. You couldn’t bear to get up and pulled the blanket closer to your body to keep warm. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to fall back asleep.

Downstairs, the guys were eating lunch together. Jaehyun looked at his watch and verbally noted that you still hadn’t woken up.

“Do you think we should wake her up to eat?” Changmin asked, to which Jacob shook his head, saying that they should leave you to rest.

“I wonder if she’s sick? I heard her coughing in the middle of the night when I got up to go to the bathroom,” Jaehyun said.

On the outside, Sangyeon pretended not to care. On the inside, however, he was extremely worried. You always got sick at least twice each winter. After quickly finishing his meal, he grabbed his coat and headed out to the pharmacy. He asked for any and every medicine to help with colds and kept the bag in his pocket when he came back.

He stopped in front of your door with his hand hovering mid-knock. He decided against knocking and left the bag of medicines hanging on your handle.

When evening came around, Jacob went up to your room with a bowl of porridge. Seeing the bag still on the door, he knocked and entered with it.

“So you are sick,” he commented when he saw your disheveled image.

“Jacob, you are an angel,” you gasped at the sight of the food.

“Actually, the medicine isn’t from me. I think that might have been Jaehyun. It was left on your door handle,” he said as he set the tray down on your desk.

You thanked him for the porridge and made a mental note to thank Jaehyun later. Too tired to do anything else, you took the medicine and fell into another deep sleep.

The next day, you felt better enough to get out of bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, you trudged downstairs. You saw Jaehyun in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee and said good morning.

“Oh! I didn’t get the chance to tell you yesterday but thanks for the medicine,” you smiled.

“Huh? What medicine?” he tilted his head in confusion.

“You weren’t the one who left medicine for me outside my door?” you blinked. He shook his head and you assumed that it had been Changmin.

However, when you asked Changmin about it, he was clueless as well. It left you with only one other possibility and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. Wanting to express your gratitude, you went out and bought ingredients to make him some kimbap. You spent the rest of the morning working hard in the kitchen, persevering through multiple mistakes.

You groaned the third time the kimbap popped while you tried to roll it. You considered giving up for a brief moment but shook your head. With a determined sigh, you pulled out another sheet of dried seaweed and began your fourth attempt.

Finally, you managed to decently succeed. You grinned in triumph at your slightly deformed roll. After cleaning up the mess you made, you looked out the window to see Sangyeon reading in the yard with a beanie on and a scarf wrapped around his neck. Hoping to keep him warm, you poured a cup of hot coffee and walked towards him with the food nicely plated.

“Hey Sangyeon,” you said as you held out the plate. “I made you some kimbap for you to munch on as you read.”

“No thanks,” he said coldly. You blinked, not expecting such an answer.

“O-Oh… do you not like kimbap?” you awkwardly laughed. “Here, have some coffee then.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to mind me,” he closed his book and stood up to leave. You frowned at his rudeness, ticked off.

“You could at least take the coffee if you don’t want the food,” you said, making him pause. “Or at the very least politely decline considering the effort I put in.”

“I never asked you to put in any effort towards me.”

You scoffed and put the cup and plate down to fold your arms. His harsh words were so different from his kind actions. It constantly felt like he was trying so hard to push you out and you didn’t understand why.

“Then what’s with the medicine you left for me yesterday?” you confronted him. He froze, not knowing how he got caught. He then noticed that you came outside with no outerwear, making him sigh. Trying to avoid an argument, he silently took his scarf off and put it on you before turning around to leave.

“What the hell, Lee Sangyeon?” you blurted. You placed yourself in front of him to stop him from leaving.

“What is with you? Literally one day you’re taking care of me behind my back and the next you’re avoiding me like the plague. Is this your tsundere concept or what?” you huffed.

You waited for him to say something back but he kept his lips pursed. Exasperated, you ripped the scarf off and stormed back inside.

Sangyeon cursed at himself in his mind. He could’ve handled that a lot better. Sighing, he bent down to pick up the scarf thrown on the ground. At a closer glance, he saw your necklace buried in the fabric. He held it up and stared at the jewelry in his palm. With a conflicted expression, his grip tightened around it, enclosing it in his fist.

You decided that you were over Sangyeon once and for all. You didn’t care how tired he came home looking every night or if was eating properly. You officially gave up on getting closer to him. If he wanted to push you away with his stupid tsundere ways, then that was his problem and not yours.

Grumbling, you climbed into bed to comfort yourself by watching Netflix. You very much rather preferred having your mind occupied with fictional characters than your own issues.

By the time evening rolled around, you grabbed your clothes and headed to the bathroom to shower. Your hands reached up to your neck to take your necklace off but were met with bare skin. Your eyes widened as you looked in the mirror, realizing that the necklace was gone.

You didn’t remember when or where you got it but you always had a feeling that it was important to you. You felt anxious without it.

You rushed to the kitchen to find it. Changmin was staring at you, perplexed, as you crawled across the floor to check every nook and cranny.

“Are you looking for something?” he asked.

“My necklace,” you tensed. “I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it here?”

He shook his head as he apologized, saying he hadn’t. Fretting, you checked the living room hoping it was hidden somewhere on the couch. When it still didn’t turn up, you ran outside to check the yard.

At that moment, Jacob and Sangyeon came down and saw Changmin looking out the window. Curious to see what he was watching, they followed his gaze to see you examining the grass.

“What’s Y/n doing?” Jacob asked.

“I think she lost her necklace,” Changmin answered as he took another bite of his apple. “It must be really important to her. She’s been searching for a while now.”

“I hope she finds it soon. It’s cold out at night,” Jacob said with a concerned look on his face.

Sangyeon stiffened, feeling the necklace in his pocket. He brushed it off, thinking you would give up soon. After pouring himself a cup of tea, he returned to his room. The sky rumbled, warning of incoming rain.

“I’m sure she’ll come back in now,” he mumbled.

Half an hour passed as Sangyeon continued reading his book. It was now pouring outside and the raindrops tapped violently against the windows. He reached out for his tea, only to notice be met with an empty cup. He placed the book down and went to the kitchen for a refill.

He was shocked to see you still in the yard, crouched down with a flashlight. Anger bubbled up inside him and he found himself grabbing an umbrella and joining you outside. Holding your wrist, he lifted you up to face him. The rain ceaselessly attacked the umbrella over your heads and his heart broke at the sight of you. You were drenched and your hair stuck to the sides of your face.

“Let go of me. I need to find something,” you freed yourself from his grasp and went back to shifting through the grass.

“It’s late and it’s raining. You can look for it later,” he said as he pulled you back up.

“No, I have to find it now,” you insisted.

“Y/n, you’re sick!” he exploded. “What’s more important than your health right now?”

“My necklace!” you yelled back. “I can’t remember who gave it to me but I know it was a gift. I can’t lose it. I just know that it’s from someone important. It’s the missing memory I came back to Korea to find!”

His chest clenched as your tears blended in with the rain. He never thought that the necklace would mean so much to you. Hesitantly, he pulled it out from his pocket and handed it to you.

“I’m the one who gave it to you, Y/n,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Seven years ago, I was the one who made this necklace and gave it to you. This isn’t what I meant when I said that you were indebted to me.”

Puzzled, you stared at the chain hanging from your clasp. You were beyond confused. If you had known Sangyeon, why did he never act like it? Then, the pieces started to come together and his behavior started to make sense. Those eyes that seemed to recognize you from day one. The endless supply of the snacks you never expressed your love for in front of the guys. The dreams that you suddenly understood now.

“You knew who I was the entire time… and you didn’t say anything?” your voice cracked. “You knew I was out here looking for the necklace that you had and you still didn’t say anything?”

“I-”

“Forget it,” you cut him off. You shoved the umbrella away from you and slowly walked towards the house.

“Now you’re forever indebted to me, Y/n. That’s a one of a kind necklace you can’t find anywhere else. Be honored I made it for you.”

You winced at the sudden flashback.

“Y/n, you can’t keep associating yourself with that boy.”

You shook your head as if the memories would shake out of your mind.

“You don’t even deserve to be called a mother.”

You stumbled, causing you to flinch. Sangyeon ran to hold onto you and caught you just in time before your knees went weak. You felt your lungs tighten as the world spun around you and his voice became muffled. Then, everything went black.

“We gave her a fever reducer so her temperature should be coming down soon,” the doctor said as he looked through your patient chart. “She can be discharged once she wakes up and finishes the IV treatment. As long as she rests well at home, she’ll be okay.”

Sangyeon profusely thanked the doctor before he felt to continue his rounds. Sitting down next to you, he sighed. This wasn’t what he intended at all. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. Back then and even now, his priority had always been you. Even if it meant giving up his own desires. Even if it meant giving you up.

It was taking longer than expected for you to awaken. Sangyeon began to worry but the nurses assured him that there was no problem. He restlessly paced around your bed, praying that you were okay.

When you finally came to, it took you a moment to register your surroundings. In what felt like a long sleep, all of your lost memories came flooding back. Still overwhelmed by the sudden anamnesis, you grasped for the only thing that brought you a sense of familiarity and comfort—Sangyeon’s hand.

“Don’t leave me,” you croaked.

“I won’t. I promise I won’t let you go again,” he whispered, holding your hand tighter.

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bitterepiphany · 3 years

Text

the bodyguard situation

archive of our own

@zuzusexytiems enjoy ;))

ooh also partly inspired by @amy-r-k's aa first kiss hc <3<3

warning: contains spoilers for 139

If somebody had told her during her days in the Southern Training Corps that Armin Arlert would become the 15th Commander of the Survey Corps, Annie would have scoffed in their face. There would be no way in hell that a boy that soft and weak, a boy that struggled to even complete the Training Corps program, would become the leader of by far the most dangerous branch of military here on this island.

But times had changed. Times had changed so drastically, so mind-bendingly, that Annie almost longed for those days, those simple days when the only troubles worrying her mind was the location of the Founder, and the guilt over all the destruction they had wrought on the people within the walls. Funny, how something so enormous could become so simple in hindsight.

Something hadn’t changed, though, in Annie’s world. It surprised her sometimes, how much she had come to rely on that soft and weak boy from training, how just the sound of his voice could ground her, reminding her of all the years she spent in that crystal with only his and Hitch’s words to keep her sane.

Things had happened slowly, softly. There was so much aftermath to deal with, so much death, destruction, and fear to manage, that for at least the first year after Eren’s death, they barely had time for one another. Fragile, temporary stalemates disguised as peace were made between surviving humanity and those of Paradis, and work began to salvage and rebuild what was flattened.

Armin had been forced to take up his role as the new Commander, and for a period of time, stood at a similar rank to Historia as the only surviving military leader after the rest had been turned into titans and subsequently killed. While Historia stayed on Paradis, Armin and their surviving group - Annie, Reiner, Connie, Jean, and Pieck - who were dubbed, ‘The Heroes of Paradis’, stayed in Marley, negotiating with their surviving leaders and helping the cleanup and rebuild effort. Levi remained in Marley to recover from his injuries with their more advanced technology, and Mikasa chose not to go with them, opting to instead retire from military work to instead mourn her loss in peace.

But after things had settled (or as settled as they could be after eighty percent of the world was crushed), the unresolved tension between them couldn’t be ignored through their various distractions anymore. From lingering looks, hands brushing each other for a little longer than it to be accidental, and making constant, see-through excuses - if the looks Pieck and Jean gave were any indication - to spend time with each other, it became almost unbearable for Annie. She began to think about his confession on the boat on a daily basis, thinking it over. What if he didn’t feel that way anymore? What if he realised that she was a monster, and that she didn’t deserve someone as good as he was? What if - and this thought made Annie feel physically sick - he found another girl, and she was everything Annie couldn’t be?

It was only after Pieck had cornered her after she was caught staring openly at him for the umpteenth time that she sucked it up and decided she would confront these feelings. That was, until an incident on Paradis where a group of rogue Jeagerists decided that the current Commander of the Survey Corps needed to be replaced.

Now, it was known to those that knew him through training and the subsequent years that Armin didn’t excel physically. Though he had improved and filled out into himself in the years since he inherited the Colossal Titan, he would never reach the prowess of his other male comrades like Reiner, Jean, Connie, or Eren.

Though this information was never made ‘public’, it must have gotten out somewhere, and during an orientation for some new Scouts that Armin was overseeing, a group of young men broke away from the group and rushed him. Luckily, Armin was quick to react and defended himself until they almost overwhelmed him, but at that point, Jean and Connie reacted and dragged the attackers off him. Annie herself wasn’t with the group when it happened, instead away with Reiner discussing Marley things with Historia, but when she was notified of it, she was furious. Needless to say, the decision to give Armin a constant guard was non-negotiable, and it became clear to everyone else who wasn’t budging on being the one for the job.

Armin tried to protest the decision, saying he didn’t need a ‘babysitter’, but one look from Annie shut him up pretty quickly. He did confide to her later that he was grateful she was doing it, instead of some upstart young Scout, or even one of the boys in their group, claiming that they could become a bit suffocating in their insistence that he couldn’t defend himself at all.

The words left unsaid between them seemed to take a backseat as they now spent basically all their time together. Armin let his guard down around her, and she had to admit to herself that she couldn’t imagine her life without him at this point. There were some realisations within herself that she was scared to look at though. Once, Armin questioned whether she wanted to leave the group to go live with her father, since that seemed to always be her goal ever since she left for Paradis Island all those years ago.

Annie had spent time with her father early on in the months following the Rumbling, but had found herself drawn to working with Armin and the others, though was reluctant to leave her father initially. He assured her it was okay though, and encouraged her to get out and do something she enjoyed with her life. She still visited him regularly in Marley when she could.

They never openly acknowledged it, but the intimacy between Armin and Annie slowly began to increase. Armin had a couch in his study, and sometimes they would sit there together, Armin reading some book too boring for her to be interested in, and Annie would just relax. One afternoon, the sun was falling just right over her body, and she allowed herself to close her eyes. The next thing she knew, she had awoken to her cheek pressed into the fabric of Armin’s shoulder, one of his arms resting loosely around her shoulders. He was still reading in the fading dusk light, and when she shifted, he looked at her, a small smile on his lips.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispered, smirking slightly. “Poor form of you, sleeping on the job, huh?”

He was teasing her. Annie pushed herself upright, fighting a yawn, failing to do so, all while shooting him an icy glare.

Armin just laughed.

Fuck.

Annie couldn’t maintain her icy demeanour at that. That damned laugh of his always broke all of her walls. She just huffed and turned her head, heat creeping up her neck. Armin’s laugh faded, and Annie glanced over at him. She was surprised to see him glancing at her sheepishly too.

“You know,” he mumbled, blushing, a hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “Uh, I don’t mind if you, you know, do that…”

Annie’s breath caught. Armin blushed harder, eyes averting.

“Uhm,” he continued, still resolutely not looking at her, “Hitch used to always say that you looked scary when you slept? But… you… don’t really, I think you look kinda cute actually and- oh?”

Annie had scooted closer to him during his ramblings, and, without a word, rested her head back onto his shoulder.

“You talk too much,” she grumbled, curling up beside him.

Armin huffed out a laugh, his arm returning to its spot around her shoulders.

They stayed like that until Annie fell asleep again, and the both of them had to be shaken awake by an amused looking Pieck, who smirked at Annie mischievously when the latter discovered Armin had wrapped her up in his arms, his cheek pressed up against her hair.

***

Some invisible barrier had broken between the two of them since that afternoon. Annie found herself sleeping on Armin in various different places whenever they sat together for extended periods of time, and he became more touchy, often grabbing onto her hands to lead her places and show her things, and being quite cuddly when she fell asleep on him, leading Annie to wake up pressed tightly against him, trapped by his arm.

They found themselves in a unique situation, and neither Annie nor Armin were oblivious to the rumours and giggles that followed the two of them around at Scout Headquarters. Their close friends wisely chose not to mention their growing intimacy, but that didn’t save them from the badly disguised stares and whispered speculation that erupted from Junior Scouts as the pair did their daily business around the grounds.

It didn’t help that Armin and Annie did absolutely everything together after the attack. The two didn’t say anything to each other, the only indication Annie got that Armin noticed it at all was his telltale habit of rubbing the back on his neck and hair when he got flustered or nervous when the whispers got a little too loud for comfort.

Things reached a peak one night after a long meeting negotiating new regiment leaders and discussing the rebel Jeagerists that seemed to be grouping up together again.

It was raining hard after a sudden downpour, and Armin and Annie were faced with the newly treacherous task of making their way across the grounds to their adjacent rooms in the Commander’s and Captain’s dorms.

They stood under an awning, peering through the darkness, trying to route a path that would result in the least amount of drenching. It didn’t seem possible.

“Well,” Annie said, “I suppose we can just have a shower after…”

“I guess… let’s go!”

Annie cried out in surprise as Armin grabbed her hand and yanked her along with him, and then they were off, running through the sheets of water and getting thoroughly soaked to the bone. Annie let herself go, and began to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, and soon Armin joined her, their laughs getting lost in the roar of the rain.

Just as they reached their barracks, Annie’s foot landed in a particularly slippery patch of mud and she toppled over, gasping. She squeaked in shock as a pair of arms wrapped around her and saved her from a faceful of mud. Armin pulled her into him, and her palms flew up to grip his shirt at his chest. They stood there for a second, staring at each other, far closer than they had ever been before, chests heaving with exertion.

Armin’s arms tightened around her slightly.

“Are… are you okay?” he breathed.

Annie could feel his heart racing beneath her hands, and she suddenly became acutely aware of how fast her heart was going too. She nodded, breathless.

Armin didn’t seem to want to let her go. Annie found that she didn’t want him to either.

All of their interactions since his damned confession on the boat ran through her head. Annie took a breath. She had made up her mind. Enough of this dancing around one another. Just as the words building up in her head for months passed her lips, Armin spoke.

“Annie,” he said, eyes intensely focused on hers. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Her chest caught.

“I…”

Feeling as though her entire life had led up to this moment, Annie abandoned any response she might have had on her tongue, gripped his shirt harder, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him.

She could feel the tension leave Armin’s shoulders, and he almost slumped into her, leaning down so she could stand flat-footed, kissing her back, hands sliding up her body to cradle her face. They broke apart, lost in their own little world, eyes locked.

“Wanna get married?”

Annie let loose an elated giggle, sure that this high she was on was never going to let her down. It was all too incredible to even describe.

“Yeah.”

***

Rumours about the Commander and his female companion had been the hot topic of Scout members for months. A set of questions regarding them circulated.

“Who’s that scary-looking lady who’s always with the Commander?”

“Is she some kind of new captain?”

“I heard she was his bodyguard!”

“No surely not, she’s too small for that, maybe she’s his assistant.”

Another smaller, more knowledgeable section of older Scouts found the pairing to be unbearable.

“She’s the Female Titan!”

“Why haven’t we killed her yet? You know how many Scouts she killed, right?”

“Why on earth does he seem to be friendly with her?”

“They look like some sort of couple! No way am I serving under someone fucking a traitor!”

The Commander and his female companion were very aware of the whispers, but they didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted, they thought.

One afternoon, an amused-looking Reiner was lounging about, supervising some of the younger recruits in their training. He heard some of their whispers, and laughed aloud.

“You guys don’t know?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, “She’s no bodyguard. That’s his wife .”

Rumour has it the squeals of shock could be heard from across the grounds.

#aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhardt #attack on titan #chapter 139 spoilers

73 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

The Parent Trap, Chapter 8 (Biadore) - Henny

WELL WELL WELL I hope you bitches are ready!

Hello, my loves!

Did you miss me? That was a loOOooooOoNg hiatus, almost *holds up three fingers* this many,I think. I have no excuses, I really just lacked the passion to continue this one. But, I’ve been lurking on Tumblr too long and I’m just so ready to get back into this. I have most of it plotted out already. I won’t promise a regular update, but I’m sure I’d get to finish this one way or another.

ALSO, I don’t want to get clocked or whatever, but I know when it comes to IVF and basic biology (I guess) The twins aren’t going to be identical since they’re from two separate sperm cells?? BUT, LIKE ALSO, I DON’T CARE?? It’s fanfiction, not fact. SO LET’S JUST SAY THESE GIRLS ARE IDENTICAL, BUT ONE OF EM IS DANNY’S AND ONE OF EM ROY’S (BUT YOU WON’T REALLY FIND OUT). Just please don’t make me think about science-y stuff. Sorry, STEM Majors!

Another thing, assume AS2 didn’t happen, okey?

All the love, Hennies!

xx Henny

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“Well… well… well… I hope you bitches are ready… “ Nerissa smiles, excited to meet Portia’s favorite. And when the screen shows her a face that is all too familiar and a voice that hits a little too close to home,

“I’m Bianca Del Rio, I’m thirty-seven years old…”

She pales.

Portia notices the quick change of mood. She reaches out to press the spacebar to pause the video, a little upset with the fact that they won’t get to finish the episode. The other girl is silent as she moves from Portia’s bed to her own, and something within Portia knew that Nerissa was in her head, deeply in her head. Not wanting to force the girl into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, Portia fiddles with the edge of her laptop with her head down.

Nerissa can feel the blood draining from her face. Some things were clicking into place. Her dad was a drag queen. Was Riz surprised? Not really. She has seen her dad put makeup on some models, not full-drag, but glam nonetheless. The dresses? Obviously. But, why didn’t HE tell HER? Anger rises in her system, she wanted to scream but something was holding her back. Her and her dad were always so close, and she’d like to believe that he didn’t have any secrets from her. Except that one room in their home. HMMM.

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A memory unlocks in her head. Age 7, finally mustering up the courage to rebel against her dad’s instructions,specifically about the one room in their apartment her dad said to never go in. It was always kept locked, except Uncle Shane accidentally left it unlocked that fruitful day. Nerissa remembers sneaking in, both adults thinking she was taking a nap. When she turned the lights on, her eyes were met with different colors. Sparkly, colorful, sequined dresses; Tall boots and heels; wigs of blacks, browns, and reds neatly perched on mannequin heads. It was beautiful and excitement bubbled up in her tummy. She walked over to a wall that was filled with picture frames; some people in them she knew, the others she didn’t.

One thing that struck her the most was a portrait that was nearly as big as her then-7-year-old body in the middle of the wall, the chandelier breaking the light in a myriad of colors on the photograph. The picture was of two beautiful queens, a little heavy handed on the makeup, now that she thinks about it. The two ladies wore beautiful black gowns, she would even assume that it was cut from the same fabric. The one with black hair wore a giant crown on her head, smiling a dimpled smile with her face to the spotlight. The other had fire red hair; she looked like she was screaming with joy as she lifted a sparkly scepter up in the air. They had one arm around the other’s waist and they looked very happy. She didn’t think much about it then, but…

“That was Bianca… and oh my god– that was Adore.” Nerissa says out of the blue, catching Portia’s attention from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry what?” Portia asks, leaning closer to indicate that she was listening carefully now and that Riz had her full attention.

“Back in New York, my dad… he always kept this room locked. I only went there once, but he got really mad when he caught me.”

Portia moves to sit on Nerissa’s bed. “Yeah, okay… but you said something about my dad. What about Adore?”

“In that room,” Nerissa licks her lips, speaking slowly to help her rationalize her story in her head better. “… and I’m not sure if it’s still there. There was a picture of my dad as Bianca, and I think Adore. My dad wore a crown and Adore was holding the scepter.” She says thoughtfully. “Wow, spoiler alert. Ha!” She tries to joke, but now Portia looks at her with a shocked face.

“Wait, YOUR DAD IS BIANCA DEL RIO?! LIKE YOU’RE NERISSA HAYLOCK?? HAYLOCK?!?! AS IN ROY HAYLOCK?”

Nerissa blinks. “I thought you knew – how many Haylocks do you know?”

Portia blanches. “I DIDN’T WANT TO ASSUME! Roy Haylock has always been very hush-hush about you. You don’t even appear on social media, so you can’t really blame me. And my hatred for you, then, really blinded me. Sorry again, by the way. WAIT, LET ME JUST FANGIRL FOR A MINUTE.” Portia grabs a pillow and lets out a giddy scream.

Nerissa lets out a soft laugh before rolling her eyes playfully. “ANYWAY! FOCUS!! So, as I was saying, my dad has a picture of Bianca and Adore during, what I assume was, the coronation in his super secret closet.”

“Wait… but– No… no… that can’t be.” Portia says once she gets to calm her erratic heartbeat. “Bianca won season 6, I don’t think a photo like that photo exists– unless–” She stops talking abruptly and runs to her laptop. Nerissa watches her type furiously, obviously looking for something. When Portia finds it, she makes her way back to her position earlier.

“Look, see” Portia redirects Nerissa’s attention to the laptop’s screen. It was under a folder called “conspiracy theories” and from Riz’s point-of-view it was nothing but screenshots from Tumblr or twitter. “Back then, during their time, it was rumored that Bianca and Adore had filmed an ending where they both won–like they shared it. “

“Did you really search this about your dad?”

“YES! Now, pay attention” Portia huffs, brushing her hair back. “I don’t have more proof though because apparently the receipts back then were trashed when people started losing interest in Season 6 because we’re like in its, I don’t know like, 1000th season now. Then suddenly, when Bianca said she was quitting drag for good, more people deleted stuff about Bianca to respect her wishes then full-blast supported Roy in his fashion career.”

“Wait– wait, Bianca quit drag? Why?”

“Well, people started speculating that it was probably for his daugh–” Portia stops mid sentence, looking at Nerissa’s sudden sad face sheepishly. “Hey, don’t feel bad!”

“He was so happy, Porsche! I may not remember the picture’s every detail, but he was so happy being Bianca. Did you see the way she smiled the minute she walked in the werkroom? You mean to tell me I did that??”

“No, that’s just one of the speculations, really.”

“What were the others?”

“Retirement, boredom… to name a few. One thing I found interesting, but I highly doubt is that people said it was because of Adore.” Portia snorts as she mindlessly scrolls to her photos on her laptop. Nerissa observes her for a bit, before asking;

“How come?”

“If you’re talking about why people thought Adore was involved; that’s because before Bianca quit drag, her and Adore were really close. As in, super close, they were always seen or spotted together. When Bianca did quit, there was complete radio silence from Adore. They cut all communications on social media. Then people saw that they unfollowed each other and whatnot, PLUS they also found it odd that Roy was still talking to Courtney and would go to support local drag scenes, but would completely cop out if Adore was in any shape/form involved.” Portia explains, and Nerissa notes the hints of sadness in her voice.

“Makes sense to me, so then why do you doubt it?” Nerissa’s head tilts slightly as she watches Portia put her laptop on the bed. Her eyes then drift to the mirror that’s adjacent to the side of her bed and stares intently at their reflection.

“Well, for starters, if it ever happened, my dad would tell me. He knows that I absolutely adore Bianca, so I think if they ever had a relationship; he would let me know. It is weird though how he doesn’t really like talking about her. He’d just smile and shrug, so maybe there was a falling out or a fight.” Portia narrates, her sadness becoming a little more apparent.

Nerissa hums, in deep thought. A pregnant pause lingers in the air. With her curiosity getting the best of her, Nerissa asks out of the blue;

“Hey, Portia?”

“Yeah?"

"Did your dad adopt you?"

Portia looks at Nerissa as if she’s grown another head, which coming from her is ironic in itself.

"Well, no, but it’s kind of complicated. My dad was actually married in the past. He would tell me that they tried both fertilized eggs and hoped for the best. Nine months later, I was born and up until today, he doesn’t know if I was his or his ex’s biological baby, but he loves me nonetheless.”

“But won’t you look predominantly like one though?”

“Yeah, I look like my egg donor who looks eerily like my dad.” Portia pauses, head tilted.

“Aren’t you a little curious which one’s your biological dad?” Nerissa continues to probe. If things lined up correctly, Nerissa knew the both of them were going to be thrown into a loop. Portia thinks for a while, considering the idea, before her face contorts with distaste.

“Nah, he never really cared for me in the beginning, so why should I bother now? Even if I was his biologically, he didn’t raise me. He’s just a sperm donor to me, if ever. Why’d you ask anyway?“

"Because I refuse to play stupid when it’s so obvious that we’re twins.” Nerissa exclaims with such vigor, Portia nearly fell over the bed in surprise. ”Can’t you see how identical we look?"

"But…”

“No, no! Don’t try to deny it. I know there’s this whole theory about at least 5 people in the world looking like you–but not like this! Especially not when we basically have the same story growing up!” Nerissa is shaking as she stands to retrieve a picture in her bag; the very same frame she showed her friends her first day in the camp. She traced the edges of the frame before following the lines of her sleeping dad’s face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?' She thinks inwardly, willing the man in the photo for an answer.

“Riz, I think this is too much of a stretch. Our dads would’ve told us if it was something this serious. And our childhood couldn’t be that similar! And, even if–IF we were siblings; I wasn’t born a twin.”

“Oh yeah? When’s your birthday?”

“January 12.”

“Same here. I’m turning 11, you’re turning 11, too, right?. I’m telling you… It makes sense! My dad ALSO said he had a partner a long time ago and like you; I don’t know who my biological father is because I could be my dad’s or his ex! And, to be honest, I really don’t care to know at this point, but it all lines up!” Riz gets flustered now, there’s a funny feeling in her tummy as Portia still looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

“And my dad said I looked mostly egg donor too, but he always says that he can see the things that remind him that I’m his or his partner’s– ex partner .” Nerissa finishes, plopping down to sit beside Portia who was still silent. “Well… what do you think? Say something!” She urges, almost pleadingly.

“So… you mean to tell me…”

“Yeah?” Nerissa prompts, watching the girl add things up in her head and the growing realization dawn on her face.

“BIADORE WAS REAL?!?!” Portia screeches with excitement before Nerissa hits her with a pillow.

“UGhhhhhhH!” Nerissa groans, “Can you stop thinking about drag race? This is bigger than us now. BUT, IN HINDSIGHT, YES! I genuinely believe that my dad and your dad used to be together, and they were probably the “ex” in our birth stories.”

“How are we twins with different dads though?” Portia asks once she calms down again.

“It’s possible. I read about it once, it’s like what happened with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner. They had a surrogate accept both eggs, so they had twins. Theirs was fraternal though, and seeing how identical we are– I’m guessing we’re a pretty special case of science and sheer luck.” Nerissa sighs, then sadly adds “It’s kinda annoying how they didn’t tell us. It’s one thing to divorce each other, but to raise kids and hiding a part of their truth? I think it’s cruel.”

“No… It kinda makes sense to me.” Portia says after a few minutes of silence and letting the question linger in the air. “My dad didn’t tell me about you… about how I was a twin because he knew…” she continues to say, breath slow and soft, almost wavering. Tears slowly fill her eyes as she looks at her twin in front of her, “He knew if he told me about you, I would go looking for you. I- I would’ve done everything to meet my sister because I’ve always wanted a sister.” She sniffles, her hand reaching out to grasp the other girl’s hand. “And now I have one” Portia pulls Nerissa in for a hug.

They let the tears flow; tears of confusion, anger, frustration, joy, and love. They murmured their “sorry”; “it’s okay”; “I’ll still fight you when it comes to boys though”; and “Nah, don’t worry, I don’t even like boys…”

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When sobs turned to sniffles and feelings were pacified by food and other words of affirmation, they found themselves nestled on the ground between their bed frames with their mattress and heaps of pillows and blankets surrounding them.

“We still have a few weeks in here, what do you want to do till then?” Portia asks as she stuffs another cookie down her throat. Nerissa lifts a leg up nonchalantly in the air before dramatically dropping it to Portia’s side of the bed.

“Well, I still have more episodes of season 6 to go, right?” She proposes, making Portia smile with excitement. Portia, then, scrambles to get her laptop and plop back down to their little nest.

“Ready to see my dad kick your dad’s ass?” Portia taunts as she hovers to play Episode 2 from where the left off.

“Yeah, as if…”

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Los Angeles, California. 9PM.

Adore sat in front of the mirror, already cinched and dressed, 30 minutes before she was supposed to go on. She had arrived at least an hour before call time, something she had picked up when her and Bianca used to go to gigs together. She rolls her eyes at the memory, mostly due to her annoyance with herself. She knew deep down that she should’ve moved on; it’s been years. But, can you really blame her? You never forget your greatest love and your most painful heartbreak; it was rare for both storylines to be the same person. Because, who in their right mind let’s their greatest love go? Adore did; Danny did. She lets out a few lip thrills to recompose herself and blinks away at the tears threatening to ruin her makeup.

Her phone rings; without looking at the contact, she answers it with a few sniffles.

“Hello?” Adore drawls while grabbing a tissue across the table and dab it slowly under her eyes and her nose.

“Adore, darling!” Ru’s voice rings loudly across the speakers. Adore can hear him talk to someone in the background, but their conversation couldn’t be heard from her end.

“Hi, Ru…” She tries to mask the surprise in her voice. She knew the RuPaul didn’t make social calls UNLESS it was a big social event. If there’s one reason, one reason at all, Ru could be calling it’s…

“Hey, baby, I just wanted to call you myself since this might be a big favor to ask you…”

–that.

“Of course, Mama, what is it?” Adore was barely listening at this point, trying to come up with excuses already.

“Well, would you be interested in joining the first all-stars: battle of the winners in place of Bianca?”

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PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

TAGS Biadore, Bianca Del Rio, Adore Delano, Courtney Act, Parent Trap AU, Henny, Family, Slowburn

WELL WELL WELL I hope you bitches are ready!

Hello, my loves!

ALSO, I don’t want to get clocked or whatever, but I know when it comes to IVF and basic biology (Iguess) The twins aren’t going to be identical since they’re from two separate sperm cells?? BUT, LIKE ALSO, I DON’T CARE?? It’s fanfiction, not fact. SO LET’S JUST SAY THESE GIRLS ARE IDENTICAL, BUT ONE OF EM IS DANNY’S AND ONE OF EM ROY’S (BUT YOU WON’T REALLY FIND OUT). Just please don’t make me think about science-y stuff. Sorry, STEM Majors!

Another thing, assume AS2 didn’t happen, okey?

All the love, Hennies!

Xxx Henny

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“I’m Bianca Del Rio, I’m thirty-seven years old…”

She pales.

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“That was Bianca… and oh my god– that was Adore.” Nerissa says out of the blue, catching Portia’s attention from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry what?” Portia asks, leaning closer to indicate that she was listening carefully now and that Riz had her full attention.

“Back in New York, my dad… he always kept this room locked. I only went there once, but he got really mad when he caught me.”

Portia moves to sit on Nerissa’s bed. “Yeah, okay… but you said something about my dad. What about Adore?”

“Wait, YOUR DAD IS BIANCA DEL RIO?! LIKE YOU’RE NERISSA HAYLOCK?? HAYLOCK?!?! AS IN ROY HAYLOCK?”

Nerissa blinks. “I thought you knew – how many Haylocks do you know?”

“Did you really search this about your dad?”

“Wait– wait, Bianca quit drag? Why?”

“Well, people started speculating that it was probably for his daugh–” Portia stops mid sentence, looking at Nerissa’s sudden sad face sheepishly. “Hey, don’t feel bad!”

“No, that’s just one of the speculations, really.”

“What were the others?”

“How come?”

Nerissa hums, in deep thought. A pregnant pause lingers in the air. With her curiosity getting the best of her, Nerissa asks out of the blue;

"Hey, Portia?”

“Yeah?"

"Did your dad adopt you?"

Portia looks at Nerissa as if she’s grown another head, which coming from her is ironic in itself.

"Well, no, but it’s kind of complicated. My dad was actually married in the past. He would tell me that they tried both fertilized eggs and hoped for the best. Nine months later, I was born and up until today he doesn’t know if I was his or his ex’s biological baby, but he loves me nonetheless.”

“But won’t you look predominantly like one though?”

“Yeah, I look like my egg donor who looks eerily like my dad.” Portia pauses, head tilted.

“Nah, he never really cared for me in the beginning, so why should I bother now? Even if I was his, biologically, he didn’t raise me. He’s just a sperm donor to me, if ever. Why’d you ask anyway?“

"But…”

“No, no! Don’t try to deny it. I know there’s this whole theory about at least 5 people in the world looking like you–but not like this! Especially not when we basically have the same story growing up!” Nerissa is shaking as she stands to retrieve a picture in her bag;the very same frame she showed her friends her first day in the camp. She traced the edges of the frame before following the lines of her sleeping dad’s face. 'Why didn’t you tell me?' She thinks inwardly, willing the man in the photo for an answer.

“Oh yeah? When’s your birthday?”

“January 12.”

“Same here. I’m turning 11, you’re turning 11. I’m telling you… It makes sense! My dad ALSO said he had a partner a long time ago and like you; I don’t know who my biological father is because I could be my dad’s or his ex! And, to be honest, I really don’t care to know at this point, but it all lines up!” Riz gets flustered now, there’s a funny feeling in her tummy as Portia still looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

“So… you mean to tell me…”

“Yeah?” Nerissa prompts, watching the girl add things up in her head and the growing realization dawn on her face.

“BIADORE WAS REAL?!?!” Portia screeches with excitement before Nerissa hits her with a pillow.

“How are we twins with different dads though?” Portia asks once she calms down again.

“It’s possible. I read about it once, it’s like what happened with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner. They had a surrogate accept both eggs, so they had twins. Theirs was fraternal though, and seeing how identical we are– I’m guessing we’re a pretty special case of science and sheer luck.” Nerissa sighs, “It’s kinda annoying how they didn’t tell us though. It’s one thing to divorce each other, but to raise kids and hiding a part of their truth? I think it’s cruel.”

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“Well, I still have more episodes of season 6 to go, right?” She proposes, making Portia smile with excitement. Portia, then, scrambles to get her laptop and plop back down to their little nest.

“Ready to see my dad kick your dad’s ass?” Portia taunts as she hovers to play Episode 2 from where the left off.

“Yeah, as if…”

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Los Angeles, California. 9PM.

Her phone rings; without looking at the contact, she answers it with a few sniffles.

“Hello?” Adore drawls while grabbing a tissue across the table and dab it slowly under her eyes and her nose.

“Adore, darling!” Ru’s voice rings loudly across the speakers. Adore can hear him talk to someone in the background, but their conversation couldn’t be heard from her end.

“Hey, baby, I just wanted to call you myself since this might be a big favor to ask you…”

–that.

“Of course, Mama, what is it?” Adore was barely listening at this point, trying to come up with excuses already.

“Well, would you be interested in joining the first all-stars: battle of the winners in place of Bianca?”

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #bianca del rio #adore delano #original child characters #canon compliant #parenting au #parent trap au #the parent trap #henny

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nextwarden · 3 years

Text

Archenemies - Part I

Disclaimer: partially inspired by Supercorp and the very enjoyable facets of their dynamic. Hope you enjoy.

Commotions are always a good indicator of such happenings.

The first eyes on the scene are of course those of curious and surprised bystanders. Rarely does such an event be broadcast in advance. It's happened before, of course. Only a handful of times, however. It means the evildoers are confident in their plan and seek attention, two very bad news for any respectable super. The last time it's been the case, panic managed to erupt, only quelled by the competent authorities with some effort. Some joker tried to replicate the one before last, he's apprehended after barely an hour of shenanigans and threats, each more unbelievable than the last. What he tried to emulate, however, remains scarred deep in the minds of many. Blood and ashes flowing on the grass of the Magnus Arena in the city center on a crisp summer day, and the center itself drowned in cries of pain and terror. On that tragic day, SkullB makes the decision to invest in the services of both Mister Mind and LaValette, two of the most intelligent and cunning cons out there. One hundred and eighty six people die, each one in a slow and far too well documented way. Three pros are amongst them; experienced supers, yet they fall prey to SkullB's devious plans. Dame Seven, Verustoski, husband and wife in the business since the late 70s, and Sunny Sin, a young yet very capable teenage wiz, give their lives in exchange for SkullB's.

Mind and LaValette are, of course, smart enough to see themselves out once it turns in their disfavour, almost as if they see it coming. The former is caught a few days later, splurging on an online casino in his own underground mansion, while the latter still eludes the authorities to this day, taunting both pros and cons in an odd twist of fate. They realize the whole affair is getting far too out of hand, and some even speculate one of them (or both) to consort with the authorities to create the distraction that allows to bring out most of the hostages and to take down SkullB. That stems from irregularities in the chronology of the event and the fact that LaValette apparently decides to own up to her actions after that day. Not completely mind you, but enough to make a difference with a surprisingly efficient foil to many a plan, good or bad. Over the next few years it's apparent she's taken upon herself to remove supers altogether. Not in a definitively violent way, shockingly, but using her agile mind to dismantle actions undertaken to a significant risk to the city and its people. Dynopolis grows less weary and more peaceful due to that. It lasts a sufficient while for her to gain a strange and ambivalent status of anti-hero - chaotic good, as many surmise, in similar leagues to that of the legendary Crime Man himself, some add.

That changes over time as more and more supers, heroes and villains alike, manage either in their smarts, numbers, or luck, to pull and tug at the seams and reveal the cracks in her masterplan. What it loses in her ability, however, the city gains in balance. Many new pro upstarts join the ranks of a newly reformed agency, trying to attain both glory and riches, and to "do the people of this city some good". It's obviously been mirrored by the rise in organized and supercharged crime. That tendency is there from the beginning, structured even before the pros are themselves. It naturally evolves with the times and the influence of one changes the other. Not that they necessarily know - she doesn't care much for one or the other - but she naturally leans into that tendency. If one wants to make a difference by playing the game, one has to remove themself sufficiently from the board, and that she does in a surreptitiously efficient manner.

The second factor which sees to an apparent decline in her efficiency had been more subtle and more specific (although she would argue that it's not so much a decline rather than a shift of focus). It baffles a number and is the joyous guilty pleasure of some others, more observant or perhaps more versed in theorizing. It's fairly unnoticeable at first, by the audience as well as by those involved. The powerful blonde enters the scene unnamed and unknown, and almost by coincidence - officially "on a whim". A small incident takes place in the southern branch of Nat·Bank, devolving into a chaotic chase over land and sea. A simple passerby at the time, the greenhorn not-hero (yet) jumps to action, pursuing the robbers onto the beach and into the coastal waters once they reach their means of escape. Perhaps it's her gallant effort in taking them down despite their ion guns and reinforced armours, bringing the boat back to shore single handedly. Quite literally at that: she emerges on the warm sand pulling the swift vessel behind her, dragging it to the middle of the beach for the authorities to arrest the now baffled culprits. Many onlookers capture and immortalize this moment, making her drenched fit form into an object of many speculations for weeks to come. Her identity somehow remains unknown behind a hasty yet well-placed mask of cloth and nothing is made of it despite extensive research and avid requests on all fronts.

...

Dantra reveals herself almost two months later, to the day, new protegee of sorceress Saralis and a fresh recruit of the H.E.R.O. program - revamped by a retired Dynaman and funded by the Ministry of Defense to raise and promote fresh blood to the side of justice. She's expected to tour the studios and is breathed to be the new mascot of the agency; yet, despite all her efficiency and achievements on the field, she remains as elusive as on the day of her appearance on the chaotic stage. Her speculated concealed beauty adds to her engaging demeanor during her interventions, on top of her flashy yet efficient use of her power. Her flawless track record, only highlighted by her immediate appeal following her first and only late night show appearance, made her an almost instantaneous star, rising fast into the pantheon of revered supers. Some wait for her eventual demise, criticizing her close interactions with fans during downtime and her refusal at revealing too much about herself, theorizing many reasons, each stranger and more somber than the last. Yet it does not happen. She assimilates into the lifestyle flawlessly and durably, it seems. Perhaps too flawlessly for some. Not exactly dwindling, her popularity somewhat reaches a peak over the first year and a half during which she becomes active.

If she's anything, Dantra is not discontent. She takes it in stride, making the most of her situation, to the greatest pleasure of her enduring fans. If she's to plummet, she will, not that it will stop her from doing what was right as long as she was able to. Or so she tells the young reporter who manages to get the first interview in months. And she does, standing as a proud beacon of righteousness and letting life take its course as she does all that is possible to protect and help. This despite the insistence by the agency that she capitalize on her success. She does not yield, however, and accepts that interview on their recommendation only to clear some misconceptions that seem to have arisen over time. No she does not wear a cape and does not plan to as it would hinder her movements. Yes, that piece of white cloth she wears over her face is a replica of the original one, it's been retailored and enchanted by Saralis herself to not be easily removed. Oh she doesn't know if one could say 'superstar', she is proud to make a difference however. Definitely M'Persent, she's been amazed at their display of precision in the way they used their telekinetic powers, since her youngest age. That's excluding Saralis, of course! *laugh* Boreastre, perhaps, on one of his bad days and on her good, then again she has to respect the old man's resilience so, who knew… he is the only con to ever elude the great Dame Seven in his hayday, so that has to count for something. None of the above; the money is enough, the benefits are great, and the ability to use her powers as she does is compensation enough. Because it's right, that's why, and perhaps also a bit in honor of her grandfather, a war hero who she's always admired. Oh…! Uh, yeah, many. So many. Too many. *laugh* But no, never, actually. Sadly. She never has the time or the space, she guesses, or perhaps she's not been looking well enough. One day, perhaps, in her old age, in one of those quiet suburbs, with a dog and a small garden with flowers… That's a new one, never been asked that before, yeah, uhm, if she had to say, perhaps no sea, not that she doesn't like it, she loves the sea, but forests always seem more beautiful, intriguing, and without any tree how is anyone to breathe? *laugh* No, thank you for inviting me, it was great! Oh, yeah! Uh, stay safe and do good, folks. Until next time. *wink*

Some questions she does not answer or shifts the subject, but all in good sport. The interviewer doesn't seem too annoyed by it, more understanding than anything. They're even genuinely excited when she offers a quick demonstration, squealing when she does her trick with the water. Neither do the executives at the agency, they even congratulate her on its good value. She feels good after that, can't say no to fun. She returns to her usual routine without barely missing a beat, if only slightly more discreetly, satisfied for days and unwilling to engage in too much outgoingness at once. That seems to be her prefered rhythm: appearing sparsely on occasions unrelated to crime fighting yet always with panashe and with good reason. Time passes and finally she knows: her secret is safe. Tucked away behind the thin layers of her mask and her gentle charm. There are a number of reasons why Dantra refuses to unveil too much of herself, be it to her fans, enemies, or even her colleagues. She is young but has enough knowledge of the ways of the world, especially online, to wish to be careful about what she exposes of herself. She enjoys the attention yet wants nothing of it once the mask is down, relishing the quiet moments in her cozy house near the waterfront and the edge of the city. The most important reason, the vital one, is not because of a loved one - she's been alone for as long as she could remember - nor because of her job - the agency pays well enough, and a side gig as a commission photographer allows her to pass the time. No, her deepest, darkest secret is entirely other: she does not trust herself to look quite right, to pass well enough among them. She never has. Not before, nor since her arrival and her… change of style. Her face has always felt too angular, too sharp and harsh, underlying the softness that sugar-coats it. Okay, maybe it is stupid to hide such a thing, what with aliens and wizards and so many kinds of secret and supernatural entities buzzing about. Especially considering she is in fact time-displaced herself. But she's a private person and her doubts never quite leave her, neither with nor without the mask. Especially not without. And that's something she wants to keep to herself as long as possible, if not mostly because it would show the cracks in her heroic persona.

One second she's living her perfectly normal if only slightly different life in the wilderness, and the next she finds herself surrounded by stone and metal and sound. So much noise. She fled the great fortified city of her birth for that exact reason, the smells and bustling activity making her prefer the quiet of nature. It's scary, so very scary, at first. Frustrating too, new words to assimilate, new people to remember. Many people. Too many. Tastes and colours as vibrant and foreign as they were interesting. It should be more difficult, more off-putting, it should be a lot weirder and far slower to adapt to this new life that she's quite literally thrown into. She knows that. But somehow, either she's better at adapting than she believes, or the strange shrieking and smelly hole she's been dragged through - she later learns it's all that ozone - has been kind enough to gift her with an augmentation in her abilities. She can't say. Assimilating information has always been easy for her, computing it, on the other hand, takes a bit more time, but she manages well enough and that's a start.

No one knows any of that, not the agency, not her colleagues, not even her best friend Zelda knew of it, and if she has any say in the matter, none would ever know.

…

Later on she realizes their first meeting is not their first. It's not even the first time they actually interact, simply exchanging a look as she disappears into her surroundings while the hero goes the other way in hot pursuit of her own target. They cross paths before, at least twice, always en passant and never out in the open, none recognizing the other. How Valerie Vonazzio misses and is missed so thoroughly becomes one of the many subjects of scoffs and giggles, somehow playing the absolute opposite of their actual first interaction.

How it goes from a simple meddling in a high stakes robbery to a double hostage situation with innocent people in the crossfire she would say is entirely the annoyingly boot-straight bulldozer of a newcomer's fault. He's the one who barges into her delicately masterminded play's fault. They simply have to open the safe, take the money - in truth a pile of fake yet highly realistic 'the artist formerly known as Prince' bills she planted there earlier - and attempt a getaway. No violence needed, no casualties, and she can pocket the money for herself. Not that those to whom it belongs would miss it, even if the amount were to be doubled. And everything seems to work perfectly at first, that is until that idiot of a C-list super Faramour and his disgustingly felty suit gets stuck in one of her countermeasures and calls for backup. The channels should be jammed, they are jammed, and yet, somehow, she hears. Dantra enters all guns blazing - not literally though, she bears no weapons. Praised be that fact or things would go downhill much earlier for the great LaValette. She has no guns, none made of metal at least. It does not prevent her from bursting in, plowing half the group against the wall and intimidating the others sufficiently for them to lose their cool. Having taken two hostages, threatening to do some actual damage if 'superblondie' refuses to cooperate. She doesn't, to Valerie's relief, but she's the smarter of the two, after all. By far. Faramour, on the other hand, does not do the smart thing. Barely liberated from his restraints, he takes one of the robbers in return and immediately escalates the situation. How it hasn't gone to shit quicker with that horrid perfume of his, Valerie will never understand. Deadly weapons are pointed in every direction and a single movement might set the whole thing on fire.

That minty, hair-waxed bumblefuck of a super doesn't even try to use his lonely brain cell, it seems, choosing to ignore Dantra's warnings AND the robbers' threats, yelling louder than either for everybody to shut up, get on the ground and put their weapons down. Despite the fun she'd had recording his disheveled meltdown and against all her principles, she intervenes then. Showing herself in broad daylight for the first time in months, perhaps years. Well, as best as one can through a thick field of smoke and behind a specialized retailored special ops suit. While they're all distracted, she takes Faramour out, stunning him into oblivion and then twice more for good measure with simple yet efficient darts of a sleep agent of her own personal concoction. The robbers are easy too: make them think they have a way out and leave the appeal of the money, and the next second they're running. Dantra is another story. She thinks of lacing the smoke with a sleeping agent but doesn't want to hurt innocent bystanders - she has principles, or at least she's tried to grow some - and instead deploys a simple spot-sonic. The small device works as a grenade and is used to stun anybody of above average physique - group which she instantly guesses Dantra is a part of - and gives her an opening of a few seconds to make a getaway. Hers has been ready for hours now, but as she rounds the building and her car she hears the voice behind her, ordering her to stop.

Dantra is coming around the corner too, armed with a surprising two unconscious robbers, one in each hand. Fortunately she's decided to go stealthy this time, wearing unmarked gear and a simple black gas mask. The lack of recognition she gets from the super means that either she does not know her face, which for the agency's poster girl is highly unlikely as the agency must have drilled her on the many cons they were tracking, LaValette still being high priority. Or that she has no way of seeing through her mask, past her eyes, which is lucky as it has definitely not been designed with x-ray vision in mind. She looks at the blonde for a second too long, perhaps, and her mind is made: she has to play this one well.

"Why? You gonna arrest me?"

"As a matter of fact no, but the police will once they get here."

"Ha. Apologies darlin', I have no time to wait for them. Things to do, places to be," she replies, her tone as cocky as possible.

"You have nowhere to go. I'll catch you if you try to run…"

"Maybe. But I don't intend to run," she jiggles the keys in her hands.

She sees the frown form on Dantra's face through the cloth, a cute set of lines creasing around and above her brow. The super lets the robbers fall to the ground and takes a step forward, then another. Good, just a few more seconds.

"I'm fast."

"Strong too, I guess."

That stops her.

"You're too confident."

"Mayhaps. But so are you, I believe."

"I have the means to back my words up, do you?"

If the very slight flex of her hands and her taut muscles is any indication, the hero does indeed, and she's ready to show it at any moment. Perfect.

"I don't doubt that. But see," and she takes a small step to the left, Dantra mirrors it to the right, "my ride is waiting and they don't have a policy of canceling last minute, so I'm afraid I won't be able to take you up on that."

"The choice isn't really offered."

"It is though, and I'm certainly not letting a muscle-brained blondie tell me what to do."

That gets her a frown. Good. Let her stew a bit.

"You're not part of them."

Oh, surprising. Not all brawns, then.

"You noticed."

"I'm more than just muscles."

"I can appreciate that."

And she winks for good measure. The slight abashed surprise which momentarily coats the frown is worth it.

"You'll be happy to know I'm not all ass either, darlin'."

And with the image of a vague incomprehension mixed with outrage, she presses the ignition button. The car beside her roars to life and then everything is gone, swallowed in the bright neon light of the headlights and the piercing shriek of the alarm. That's enough to make Dantra recoil; by the time the super focuses again, she's long gone. Not very far away, but out of reach.

…

The second time they cross paths it's more official and perhaps she isn't as prepared for it as she's like to make them all think. There's a joint operation by the newly formed Hexagon, a trio of wrongdoers comprised of Miss Spell, Shore Thing, and Sasz, who apparently decide to carry out plans as horrid as their individual designation. How people, supers mostly, come up with such ridiculous names for themselves is something she'll never quite understand. It does help motivate her to foil their plan without pulling any punches, however. Which is a good thing, she thinks. They try to steal one of the prototypes in development at Atomic Delaware Industries, some sort of energy cell that could either be sold to competitors or foreign powers for quite a pile of cash, or be used in not so nice ways by someone smart enough. She certainly would find a few uses for it, she has, actually, without trying too much, even. But that's not the plan, it hasn't been for quite a while. They've been on her radar for the last month and, unfortunately for them, a whole month is entirely superfluous if one were to want to rig the whole operation. Which she does.

The traps fly and spring, doors jam, electric circuits fry and, strangely, the alarm resounds the minute they're deep in the vault despite all their attempts at quelling its shrill signal to the whole of the city police force before they break in. The panic but not so much as would other newer and less competent cons. The prototype is loaded in a rush as they manage to evade the first wave of security. It's jostles a bit - quite a bit - as they come out into the night. Whether it'll still work after that is anyone's guess, although she has an inkling as to the answer. It's but almost entirely confirmed when the crack resounds a few meters in front of them and Dantra appears, making them drop the cart onto the ground and letting the round object roll away. The trio tenses slightly, knowing they have the advantage, but Dantra shows no sign of faltering. The fight that ensues is what makes Valerie act upon her growing frustration: had she let them exit the perimeter they'd have been caught in her electromagnetic web until the police arrived. But of course the hero has to meddle in her affairs. She almost doesn't swarm all four of them with slime ice, a new project she's been working on for a while, trapping anything it touches almost instantaneously (super or not) and with enough efficacy it would work on Dynamos and his high speed vibrating or Saralis and her plane shifting. At least long enough for her to escape. Almost, because as she's about to think better of it, something barely misses the prototype. It's either a hex or an exploding scale, she can't really tell, but she knows that if it hits, they might not be there to argue whodunnit afterwards. To hell with being subtle, she doesn't want to die yet, and there are people in danger of being fried by the foursome's stupidity.

"Oy, nitwits!", she exclaims, stepping out of the dark black sedan she'd taken shop in.

They seem surprised to see her, enough to almost all freeze on the spot. Only Sasz seems not to lose any of his countenance - his cerebral implant must help, she thinks - which is a good thing because they don't immediately notice the small flattened cones that thud in the middle of them.

"What the fu-", she can hear Miss Spell attempt.

"Stop clonking so close to the prototype. Or do you want to raze this whole area to below sea level?!", she adds, seeing Dantra's eyes narrow.

"LaValette," Sasz simply says, still unperturbed. Not that he seems quite anything in the recent months since his upgrade. "How very pleasant." Well at least he's kept his tongue.

Miss Spell opens her mouth again but stays silent, still she can see her violet eyes widen slightly; Shore Thing doesn't react, simply getting ready to fight her too. She sees the flicker of recognition on Dantra's face, however. She wonders for an instant if she should have worn a mask but finds she is almost glad - a small prickle of pride even runs through her spine at the validation of her still very-well known status.

"Stop where you are," she hears the blonde's voice command.

"Oh don't worry, I don't plan on joining in the fight," she smirks, "I'm not made for that."

She lets a beat pass and sees them stew in their uncertainty. No more than a beat, however, or they'll have time to react.

"Plus I don't need to," her smirk widdens as she nods to the ground at their feet.

They look. Sasz and Dantra are the first to react but it's still too late. The cones explode into a storm of white and suddenly all four of them are covered in a thick layer of foamy substance. She has to give props to Dantra for attempting to jump away, but the slime ice hardens too quickly and she's frozen on one foot, her body angled back. They almost instantly begin to slump too, even Shore Thing's weird biology doesn't stop him from feeling the effects of the sedative. It won't take them out, she knows it, but it'll do for a while. She can already hear Miss Spell mumble curses under her breath, it would be cute if it weren't literal curses on top of her insults. She hurries her step, not wanting to overextend her advantage.

"Not that I don't find this fun but I can't trust you people with this," she grabs the prototype, "so I'll be removing your new toy from the playground until you learn how to share properly."

Without further ado she walks back to her car.

"Wait," she hears Dantra's slurred voice.

But she doesn't no matter the slight desire to play with them a bit longer. She knows if she does she'll lose her advantage quickly.

"Sorry darlin', can't stay. Have a nice night!", she smiles as she passes by them before rolling her window up and driving away.

Her exit goes unchallenged, none of the police notice the black vehicule hidden behind the bushes as they quickly drive by a few seconds later. The next day she confirms her slime ice was indeed efficient, more than she had banked on even, as she sees Sasz and Shore Thing still partially trapped in by the time the news channels are on the scene. Apparently Miss Spell managed to phase herself away in the nick of time, escaping right as the authorities arrived, Dantra taking only a few moments longer. She can't help the amused smile at the sight of the fit blonde going away as quickly as she can once the situation has been explained to the police, surely in search of her. The super doesn't succeed of course, as her being in her penthouse at that precise moment indicates. The morning is nice, warm with blue skies. She contemplates letting Dynopolis and its officials sweat it a few days more under the threat of her possessing the prototype, but decides against it. She's a tease, not an actual madwoman. The stolen property is found two days later in Hubway Park, in a glass box with a cute little ribbon on top of it and a card that says "Love, LV" in elegant cursive. And if the city's pockets are slightly lighter after that, well, it's not her secret to tell.

...

They meet again twice before it truly becomes a sort of routine between them. Not that she actively makes it that way. It just seems they can't stop themselves from running into each other. Maybe it's because LaValette's officially made an appearance after all this time, in front of no less than four supers, three of them being cons is of no consequence. Maybe she can't quite stop herself from being on high alert every time she goes on patrol, looking for the lithe dark woman in every corner each time she's called onto a scene or she is made aware of some nefarious happenings. The fact that Dantra is seen a lot more than usual out there does not go by unnoticed and many speculate as to why. The answer is simple: she's been bested thrice and she can't quite let it go. The smirk and the confidently teasing tone of a superior mind still ring in her ears. She's never been one to be very competitive, not seriously so to the point of letting it consume her rather laidback nature. But the villain has a way of getting under her skin. The con times her quips like the beats of a good song, like strums of chords during a guitar solo, settles her silver eyes so steadily that she can't help the shiver of anticipation at the challenge she knows is coming. The first time it's just a fluke, she doesn't realize she's facing the great LaValette herself, not even that she 's in the same realm as her for a while. The second time she gets the message but slightly too late. The result is positive in the end, not satisfactory however. It does have the unintended effect of giving her a purpose. She knows she can't force destiny, doesn't quite believe in it either, but it feels like something the third time they meet. She wants to be there because she knows what's coming. Or at least she knows LaValette will grace them with her presence. She loses her after a frustratingly slow chase amongst corridors and stairs in the tall building where the villain comes to meddle with an intervention the squad puts in place to nip the bud of a growing cult.

The thing doesn't go as well as planned. The cult is too prepared, as if they know what's coming. They manage to get them taken down before any blood is shed, however, which is a good thing. Until she realizes the ease with which it has been done and the glaring disappearance of a number of useless but golden artifacts the cultists had been in the process of using for their sacrifice. She realizes immediately what's afoot, perhaps a bit too quickly if she trusts the bewildered looks she gets from her partners. She spots the suit far too quickly too. She's nothing if not thorough and she's made her research on the older villain turned chaotic vigilante. Her style has changed slightly, moving on from spandex and leather to a more comfortable fabric oriented design. Still black, still badass and cool - she can't help but admire - and still kicking ass without actually doing any of the kicking herself. But as she's about to reach her, LaValette lets her know she's noticed her with a small turn of the head and a wink as she moves to the staircase. The resulting chase happens in a place too constricting for her, which she hates, and amongst a crowd of people who have no business being as productive as they are on a Monday. Still she follows as best as she can, careful not to damage anything. Unfortunately it's not enough and she knows it when the villain slips away one last time, dropping in an elevator shaft this time, and she's unable to follow. Not that she'd fear the fall or hurting herself (her body can withstand much more and quite literally fly, after all) but because she realizes she's been tricked when the shaft turns out to be a screen and she finds herself flailing not to walk off the seventeenth story. How the frustratingly smart woman managed to do that she doesn't know but she knows she's lost her. Despite it all, and while she does a round of the floor just to be sure, she can't help but be impressed. LaValette has never shown any other sign of outstanding abilities than her impressive intellect and for once she's glad it's the case, just imagining that coupled with any supernatural ability almost makes her shiver.

Their fourth meeting is the one in which she feels her work finally begin to pay off. She's been scouring every file, report and analysis she can find, all the footage available for clues as to what counter-measures she could try to put in place against LaValette for weeks. The incident at Magnus Arena makes her both angry, wanting to catch the woman as soon as possible and make her answer for her crimes, but also realize how much the villain has actually shifted her line of conduct since then. She doesn't quite know how others have not measured the impact of her actions since then, both to annoy supers of the program and to mitigate the destructive power of cons. There's no proof, no evidence, but she can read between the lines, feel the depression in the landscape of her crimes, and see the shadow the villain leaves behind her in each misdeed that goes a little bit too smoothly for the heroes or which seems to fail or combust in the air for the cons. How nobody has never noticed that is beyond her. Perhaps the long arms of LaValette extend even within the agency? Or perhaps someone else has been trying to keep the status quo?

It's a bit of a paradox. She gains newfound respect for the woman but at the same time the neverending list of accomplishments - which she seems to silently gloat about every time - makes her blood boil and gives her renewed determination to catch her.

So when she manages to corner her in the back alley of the store as she's about to flee on an unmarked bike, and she sees the brow quirk up in surprise as she halts mid climb, well she can't help herself and smirks.

"Well good evening to you," LaValette says, resuming her action and strapping the large duffel bag containing various pricy items to her bike, pricy items that the organized but not very professional group of masked individuals attempted to rob - are robbing? have robbed? - and will realize are missing from their own possession the next day.

"I would return the greeting but you're coming with me this time, and it will unfortunately not be 'good'," she quips back, hand on her hip.

LaValette has been calmly setting up her gear, putting on a pair of gloves and a scarf, zipping up her jacket, action following which she seemed to notice the quick glance, her smile widening ever so slightly.

"Not that the offer is not tempting, I'd love to stay but-"

"Stuff to do, places to be?", she cuts in.

The villain smiles wider still, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Exactly."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I can't let you do that. You being a criminal and me being a hero, and all."

That earns her a chuckle. There's a pause, the woman makes a grab for her helmet, still showing no sign of a rush or any kind of panic at all. This is what makes Dantra start to question her standing in this exchange. She has a way of getting her nerves to flare. It seems the woman notices, her head shifts slightly to the side. Could she read minds? Or was she just that smart? Dantra realizes she might just be that smart

"Oh I know. And I can assure you I'm very flattered by your attention, but should you really be leaving those idiots alone?"

She follows the finger, it points at the store and suddenly, as if on cue she hears an explosion and sees bright flames erupt from the roof. The door she'd passed through moments earlier flies off its hinges and crashes against her, denting itself around her shape.

"What the-" she begins when she hears the engine rev.

Suddenly she's jumping to action, she lets her flight boom her through the alley and can feel the fleeing motorcycle revving its gears enter the grasp of her outstretched hand. Yet before she can do anything she hears a bump and her legs are once again cast in that annoying white substance, not only does it harden, it also latches onto the ground and she's faceplanting before she knows it. That much isn't enough to slow her down too much, and she's up the next second, grunting as she breaks through the foam - the countermeasure is one of raw power but it works, so, who's to judge. But as she's about to engage in pursuit again, masked individuals come pouring through the now destroyed exit and for a moment she's stunned. Why weren't they- It's then that she hears the shrill voice she's learned to dislike with every fiber of her body. Freaking Faramour…!

Only later, as they've rounded up the criminals that tried their best to escape and the police are there to take them into custody does she register the memory. It's seemingly jogged by none other than the felty cretin himself.

"Nice work, blondie!", he exclaims with a thumbs up.

Perhaps it's genuine, perhaps it's just playing it up for the cameras, she doesn't know, doesn't care much for it either. She's let her target escape once again. By the time she'd taken care of the robbers, barely a minute, and was soaring in the sky to try to locate the motorcycle, it had vanished once again. The criminals had given her restraints - a good measure of fence wire - a run for its money, already almost escaping by the time she came back down and she'd had to secure them once more. Then she'd taken measure of the whole situation: a blown up store, a bumbling super idiot trying to take over the situation and a disappeared LaValette. Then the police arrive, then the journalists, almost in sync. Then there's the report, which Faramour takes into stride despite his less than useful participation, and nobody seems to have noticed LaValette's presence. She'd been this close, so close… She tries to wallow a bit in her corner but even that is made difficult when Faramour comes all smiles to congratulate her. She had to at least nod and smile, she may be one of the most prominent faces of the agency - and miles more efficient than him - he had anteriority and some form of mind-boggling respect in the city. But his words trigger the flash of memory.

"Nice try, blondie!"

Almost the same words but a much, much different tone. Sultry and smooth, teasing as usual. With a smile and a wave of the hand as she rounded the corner, spoken in a voice loud enough for her to hear. The frustration is so much that she almost lets out a huff before she takes off to do her report at headquarters. It's only when she's done and gone home that she realizes she was close, much closer than usual. Next time. Definitely next time.

And next time comes. Much sooner than she'd expected. Barely a week later, in the middle of the afternoon. This time it's utter chaos. Three events strike at the same time. Havenleaf institute, the prison that houses many cons, is taken by Miss Spell and what can only be described as strawmen goons which she surel animated. Apparently an attempt to break out Shore Thing and Sasz. Nat·Bank is in the middle of a robbery orchestrated by the BronzeBronze cartel. And the head office of the Police is being hacked. The bank and the prison are already taken care of, Grace Solace and Mesmeride are on the case with their respective sidekicks she hears in the coms, and the police should be able to deal with whatever genius has decided to try his hand. She's met the ITeam and they know what they're doing. Still, she can't help but feel something is off. The coincidence is great, almost too great. So she goes anyway.

Everything is hectic. Power is going out repeatedly, the whole electrical infrastructure seems to be under attack. Which is weird, Rajan and Sam explain. They've made sure the whole network was secure and entirely closed off. She knows it is, she's seen Sasz try his hand at it and groaning in frustration. So whatever whoever is here wants, it's not in the database. The chaos feels too orchestrated. Like a danger looming around the corner and forcing you into panic mode but never making an appearance. She knows this feeling and that's what propels her into the stairs, down to the third basement and the writ archives. She struggles in the dark silence for a while, only nearly jumping when she hears clattering towards the deep end. The ever-knowing smile that usually welcomes her is only ever so slightly assured this time, only ever so slightly weaker, and she knows she's struck a chord.

"Wasn't expecting you so soon, darlin'", the voice drawls as the woman has the gal to look away, back to the files she's been searching through.

"Were you even expecting me?"

Her tone is light but it seems to land once again, from the slight tensing of the shoulders.

"Honestly? Not really. I hoped to have at least an hour uninterrupted, but it seems I got unlucky…"

She can't help the small satisfied scoff. She can't help the spark of curiosity either.

"What are you looking for, LaValette?"

The dark woman looks up, surprise passing through her steel eyes.

"Nothing much. Compromising pictures from college, maybe?", she chuckles. "What tipped your off, Dantra?", she returns.

Dantra knows she's curious but fakes disinterest. Somehow she knows. So she plays on it. She also can't help but lose some focus to the way her name rolls out of LaValette's mouth, soft and playful.

"I got lucky I guess. I had a hunch."

"A hunch?", a quirk of the eyebrow.

Now she was looking at her.

"Three at a time is a bit much."

"Ah," a shake of the head. "Maybe so… might have been a bit over enthusiastic on this one."

"You made all this happen?"

She should know better, she's seen the famed LaValette at work more than once, read and watched everything there was about her, but she still feels the wave of surprise at the revelation.

"No, I'm not omnipotent, you know. I may have… pushed the right buttons, however."

The smirk is back.

"Well you're certainly not getting out of this one," she quips back, hands on her hips.

"Are you sure about that?"

And there's that quirk of the eyebrow again. It's assured and confident.

"No."

But she is. And she jumps. As if she was expecting that the dark-haired woman throws the file at her and starts doubling down an alley of files, reaching for something in her bag. Dantra doesn't know what tips the scales in her favour this time. Perhaps she's gotten better with confined spaces, perhaps she's well and truly surprised LaValette, perhaps LaValette fumbles despite (surely) the many plans she has to escape. In any case, she has her pinned against a wall, any tools she might have discarded and her hands trapped within her own barely a minute later, near the emergency exit. They lock eyes and there's a surprised look in the steel discs, something else too, fear maybe? Something etched deeper than she expects, at least. But she doesn't have time to explore that before the other woman sighs and smirks.

"Well, seems it's my loss this time."

And it is. She doesn't resist. Lets herself be taken into custody without as much as an attempt to resist or protest. She takes an espresso when offered and answers each and every question the officers have for her once they begin processing her case. Dantra stays and watches, still unconvinced she's done it. She doesn't know if she believes everything LaValette says, still mulling over what she could have been searching for in the basement of the central police department. They only find a few files pertaining to an old cold case, one of an old woman found dead in her apartment. Nothing special about it, nothing linked to LaValette. Not that they could actually link anything to her. They don't even know who she is, she doesn't register in any database, no history, public or private, no facial recognition pings when they try. She's an anomaly, a dark and mysterious anomaly that keeps on slipping between your fingers even when you've got her. And have her they do. They have her face, her prints, her blood and saliva, hair samples, her voice and her story. Still, much good it does them. They resign themselves to keep her in custody until due process begins again. Dantra is on the go then, ready to leave when they have her secured. The day has been long and the thrill enough to wear her down. She'd been thinned by the last few weeks, her entire focus being on trying to solve the puzzle of the infamous LaValette. And now that it's done she can't quite believe it. They cross paths as the woman is taken to a cell, her usual black suit swapped for a standard grey uniform. It still fits her, she notes. The woman smiles as she notices her.

"Well played, Dantra."

She doesn't know what to do, what to respond to that. The amused twinkle in the woman's eyes another mystery she can't quite solve.

"Until next time?"

It's a question, she registers, as well as a statement. Nobody can keep her in for long, she seems to say, we'll play again soon.

"You're not getting out of this, this time," she manages to reply, throwing in a smile of her own, as confident as she manages.

That owns her a laugh. The sound is throaty and very amused. The wink that follows should unnerve her, so should the unfading smile. It adds fuel to the fire, that's undeniable, though what that fire supplies in turn, she has no idea. She doesn't sleep very well that night, exhaustion and excitement waging an intense battle. Exhaustion wins out in the end and she's rested enough the next morning when she wakes. It takes her the whole of the day to truly recuperate, however. She takes it off, she knows she needs it. Knows that she deserves it a bit too. No one at work is expecting her anyway. Not the bad weather nor Spyro, her cat, defecating on the coffee table manage to bring her mood down, however. The following night is the same as the previous one, a battle of nerves, she manages to go to sleep slightly earlier though. That Sunday morning she is well and truly rested as she wakes up. The weather is nice, Spyro is lounging on the coffee table, no poop in sight, and even the new seem to be good: the robbery has been foiled thanks to Mesmeride, and despite struggling a bit more and not catching Miss Spell, Grace Solace managed to prevent any escapes from the prison. She's coffee in hand, standing on her small terrace, Spyro resting on her shoulders, when she hears her name. It's faint but as she focuses the words become more clear.

"...and this morning, when Officer Wallace came to check on her she was gone. No traces of escape, no footage, nothing. The detectives are hard on the case but admit being somewhat at a loss as to how this was possible."

This definitely piques her interest and she steps inside. There's a still image of the cell with a few words splayed against it in elegant cursive. That's when she understands. Somehow, despite all the security measures in place, LaValette has made good on her words.

Till next time, Darlin', the writing reads.

She knows she should be appalled, she knows she should be stressed, she should be on high alert and perhaps already on route to rectify the situation but she finds herself excited and giddy. A smile plastered on her face when the screen turns black as power is ripped away from it. She's excited because finally, after so long, after so much hard work and dedication, it undeniably feels like she's managed to get her first arch-enemy. Her own personal nemesis.

To be continued.

---

More of what I write, if you’re interested.

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raendown · 5 years

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@madatobiweek Day 4 Prompt: Marriage of convenience Also for Day 2 Prompt: Growing old together

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 6707 Rated: T+ Summary:“Are you saying I’m so undesirable that I can’t find a husband of my own?” he asked, unsure if he was even taking the idea seriously or not.

A smile quirked his lips when Tobirama let out an easy chuckle.“You haven’t yet.”

Madara narrowed his eyes playfully. “Don’t bring the truth in to this.”

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Now and Forever

“We should get married.”

Madara lifted his head from where it had been buried in paperwork he wasn’t all that interested in doing, glad for any sort of distraction. He looked over to where Tobirama stood by the window with a whimsical expression on his face and his arms tucked in to the sleeves of his haori, half-lidded eyes watching the flow of citizens passing by on the streets below. With deliberate movements Madara set his pen aside and sat back in his seat to mirror the other man’s pose.

“Should we?” he asked, willing to play along if it would keep him from reading any more budget reports.

“Neither of us is getting any younger,” Tobirama pointed out. “And I don’t know about you but I think it would be rather nice to have someone to wake up next to. I’ve spent a lot of years living alone; it would be nice not to anymore.”

“Hmm.”

Tilting his head to one side, Madara considered those points. Forty years had done very little to age the man before him. Despite the lines deepening around the corners of Madara’s eyes and mouth Tobirama remained relatively untouched by the ravages of time. The animosity and anger that had defined their relationship during the early years of the village was long since cooled, leaving in its place mutual respect and a calm companionship. He might actually call them friends if not for the excuse that there was almost always another mutual loved one there when they spent time together outside of work. Whether it be Izuna or Hashirama didn’t matter, their two families had grown close enough to blur the lines in several different ways.

It wasn’t an unattractive proposition, really, just as Tobirama was not an unattractive man. Madara could admit that he had given thought to a tumble in the sheets several times over the past couple of decades but there always seemed to be something holding him back – one of their brothers, poor timing, the tumultuous nature of their relationship in the beginning. Marriage, on the other hand, that subject had been on his mind and stuck there more times than he could count, although never in conjunction with Tobirama.

Watching his best friend’s relationship with Mito grow stronger year by year left him yearning for that same companionship. Yet it simply wasn’t in his nature to set out looking for love, being more the retiring type who figured either love would find him along the way or he would merely have to content himself with the precious people already in his life. Tobirama’s whimsical suggestion rather neatly found a way around that.

“Are you saying I’m so undesirable that I can’t find a husband of my own?” he asked, unsure if he was even taking the idea seriously or not. A smile quirked his lips when Tobirama let out an easy chuckle.

“You haven’t yet.”

Madara narrowed his eyes playfully. “Don’t bring the truth in to this.”

He preened a little when that earned him an outright laugh. Despite age relaxing them both quite a bit Tobirama was still known as quite a stern and reserved individual. Outright laughter was a rare gift and hard-earned by very few, typically more given to quiet chuckles or soft huffs of amusement. Tobirama unfolded his arms and turned away from the window at such an angle that the afternoon sunlight lit his hair and left a crown of gold circled around his pale locks.

“We get along. I find you attractive. And one-night stands lost their shine long before I started approaching middle age. It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to have someone to call your own? It’s not love but companionship would be…well. We’d have someone to bring along to family dinners – that we both already attend anyway.” Tobirama shrugged casually, everything about him loose and at ease as though he were only speculating out loud without caring one way or the other what answer he got. And yet there was something about his tone and the faraway look in his eyes that said his suggestion hadn’t been quite as whimsical as it originally seemed.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Madara asked.

“It’s not a bad idea. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Hm.” Sitting forward and resting his chin on one palm, Madara tried to picture it.

Going home at night to find another body there like he used to find Izuna waiting to greet him. Laying his head down in the winter and curling himself in to welcoming heat. Lounging in the summer haze with their toes dipped in the koi pond in his backyard, shoulders brushing and voices low while they chatted about how far this village had come and all the great things the next generations would do with the foundations they had been given.

It truly wasn’t such a bad idea. Several extended missions together had taught him that Tobirama was an easy man to live with. Waking up to that face every morning and sating himself in that body when the mood took them wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Actually the more he thought about it the more he realized the idea appealed to him.

“Alright.” It slipped out almost without his permission but he didn’t take it back. “Yes. Let’s get married.”

Tobirama blinked, watched him for a moment to be sure that he wasn’t just pulling some sort of joke, then ducking his chin with a warm smile that somehow made the hard angles of his face look soft. Looking at that smile made the corners of his own mouth twitch and Madara thought to himself with some surprise that he probably wouldn’t regret this. In fact, he was actually looking forward to it.

It was likely that if both of them had been younger and still clinging to the trappings of inflated pride their engagement would probably have stretched for twice as long as they quibbled over the smallest details of their upcoming nuptials, striving against each other for both of their clans to be properly represented. Pride still straightened both their tired spines in the morning but it had banked in to quiet embers rather than flames barely contained and ready to burst forth at the slightest notice. It was easy enough to come to a few compromises when they were needed.

Although they did take the time to enjoy a few arguments. They would always be themselves no matter how old they got and at this point bickering had become a beloved ritual they refused to give up on.

Barely a handful of months passed between their engagement and the wedding, just enough time for the winter snows to melt and spring to bloom with a little help from their retired first Hokage. Most of the planning had actually been handled by Mito and Hikaku while the two bridegrooms spent as much time as they could out of the village for any duty they could possibly scrounge up to avoid all the gossip surrounding their decision. Rumors about a hidden love affair were only humorous if they were kept to whispers when the subjects passed by. When people started approaching them with questions to settle the betting pools that had popped up, that was the point at which they both started disappearing. Where was the fun is clearing the mystery?

The ceremony was held on top of the mountain overlooking the village, Madara and Tobirama exchanging their vows as the sun set between their linked hands. Originally they had intended for Hashirama to officiate but after realizing he was likely to ruin the ceremony with copious amounts of crying they asked Mito instead. It was a good choice in the end as their predictions came true and Hashirama spent most of the ceremony weeping where he stood at Tobirama’s side in witness.

Not truly listening to the woman he already considered as a distant sister-in-law, Madara watched the orange and gold light of sunset play across Tobirama’s face, setting his skin aflame. Despite throwing himself headlong in to this partnership and experiencing no doubts since then it was still at least a mild surprise to find himself so calm now that it was all actually happening. Tobirama lifted one of his eyebrows ever so slightly as if to ask where his thoughts had drifted off to and Madara replied with a light shrug that could have been passed off as shifting his position, not wanting to anger Mito. Even after all this time it simply felt off to be so content with his place in life.

Izuna was making catcalls almost before Mito could finish telling them to seal their vows with a kiss, at which point Madara realized that the entirety of the small gathering was about to bear witness to their very first kiss. Before any sort of performance anxiety could take him Tobirama leaned forward to demonstrate one of the more interesting benefits of agreeing to this marriage.

Sweet kami but the man could kiss.

Wild applause from both of their brothers almost drowned out the smattering of enthusiasm from their other guests and they were each dragged in to tight hugs the moment their lips parted. Mito sounded both exasperated and fond as she announced them bonded for life, husbands until death parted them. Her words barely registered. Madara was too caught up watching over Izuna’s shoulder to catch what glimpses he could of the rare warm smile on his partner’s face and imagining what it would be like to wake up to that smile tomorrow morning – and the morning after that one and indeed for the rest of their lives.

They were swept away before he could get lost in his own head any further and hurried along to the pavilion set up a couple dozen feet back from the edge to have dinner with their families and treasured ones. During the rush of good food and endless well wishes Madara found himself strangely relaxed. It still felt odd sometimes looking out at all the faces around him and knowing that some of them had once been his dire enemies, that most of them would have killed him on sight with no remorse, yet now they would mourn his death nearly as much as they would Hashirama’s. The man at his side had been chief among those who once sought his death yet here they were now wearing matching rings and winding their arms together to drink from each other’s sake cups for the amusement of their guests. It was strange, the paths life had taken him down. Even stranger that he regretted none of them.

After dinner came the dancing during which Madara and Tobirama mostly sat to one side in conversation or mingled with the rest of the crowd. Only a handful of times were either of them successfully dragged on to the floor and only twice did they dance with each other, once in the traditional first dance of the night and once when half of their guests had already left, Tobirama surprising Madara by offering his hand with that same quiet whimsical smile he had worn when he offered his hand in marriage.

Of course Madara took it. They said little to each other as they danced, swaying together in a simple pattern since neither of them really knew how to do anything more. And when the music changed and Tobirama asked if he would like to go home Madara nodded without words. He was more than ready to start his new life as a husband – almost eager, in fact. They weren’t in love but they could be said to be good friends and he saw no reason they wouldn’t make each other’s lives better for being together.

Their wedding night wasn’t nearly as awkward as it could have been. In fact it was much more pleasant than most of the other experiences Madara had stumbled his way through in the past. Neither of them felt the need to stand on ceremony or do anything to make the evening special in any way but it was certainly a night to remember even without anything like that. Madara woke the next morning feeling languid and something close enough to happy that he was almost inspired to whistle as he made up their breakfast.

He didn’t though. Dignity hadn’t yet abandoned him entirely.

Life as a married man was…calm. Easier than he would have thought. Like all couples they had their disagreements and finding a way to balance their personal habits when they were both so used to being alone took a bit of figuring out. Yet the barriers between them were always thin and easily broken down with words. Age was rarely a disadvantage but in their relationship it was most of what kept them together until they found a way to coexist properly.

On their first anniversary Tobirama waited until evening had cleared the administration tower before leading Madara in to his office where he had pushed the furniture against the walls and laid out a simple picnic for them to enjoy.

“Well look at you being romantic.”

“Brother made so much noise when I mentioned we didn’t plan to celebrate that I told him I would think about it mostly to get some peace and quiet.” Tobirama shrugged as he settled on to the blanket and reached for the basket of food left close by. Madara followed with one eyebrow lifted.

“I will admit, that makes much more sense. And I’m not going to complain since this was my night to make dinner. If you want to do the work for me then I’m alright with that.”

“Oh don’t worry.” His husband smirked as he uncapped the sake bottle. “I’m going to let you cook dinner tomorrow to make up for it.”

Madara leaned against him to laugh, accepting his drink and the plate of all his favorite finger foods. Just inside the basket he could see a covered dish of inarizushi waiting for dessert. It was hard to tell sometimes what Tobirama had learned about him since they married and what he had simply picked up over the years through exposure of listening to Hashirama’s endless babble. Not that it mattered as long as it got him inarizushi to nibble on.

They ate together mostly in silence broken only by the occasional flicker of quiet conversation. Outside the window the stars were bright and the moon full, a pleasant backdrop to admire when they weren’t simply enjoying each other’s company. During the periods when they fell quiet Madara found himself reflecting on the past year, all the ways his life had changed and all the ways it hadn’t. He thought about what things would have been like if he hadn’t accepted Tobirama’s offer, how unremarkable his days would be, full of loneliness though he would still have denied it even to himself.

“Happy anniversary,” he murmured.

“It is, isn’t it?” Tobirama leaned in a little closer to refill his sake but Madara set the dish aside after only one sip.

“Kiss me,” he demanded. With a smirk, Tobirama was only too happy to indulge him.

He also seemed happy to indulge Madara’s stomach as well, feeding him inarizushi by hand and licking his lips clean for him afterwards until they set the food aside in favor of other appetites. It was hardly the first time they had defiled various corners of the tower but something felt different this time, warmer almost, like there was an element in their coupling that either hadn’t been there before or hadn’t been allowed. Madara couldn’t pinpoint exactly where his thoughts were trying to go with that but since he had other more interesting things going on at the moment he let the idea slip away from him as easily as the breathy moan that followed the hands drawing him towards an inexorable peak.

Tobirama was attentive in the aftermath, tracing patterns on his skin with something unreadable in his eyes. Without the energy to even think of trying to figure out such a complicated man’s emotions Madara simply allowed himself to revel in his husband’s attention. He created a clone just to have it clean up the room after them and pulled Tobirama down on to the picnic blanket with him, doing his best to disguise how out of breath he felt.

“Out of stamina already?” Tobirama teased him with a nip on the shoulder. “You’re getting out of shape, old man.”

“I’ll show you out of shape!”

Both of them were smirking when Madara pounced, ready to prove himself with another round.

As it had a tendency to, time went on. More anniversaries passed and their partnership only grew stronger with every one. Finally Madara had that which he had been jealous of others for: companionship. It still wasn’t love but he found as time went on that it was quite a pleasant substitute, enough so that he couldn’t speak to having any regrets about where life had taken him.

His thoughts were quiet and his mood content when he found Tobirama enjoying the weather on a warm evening just at the cusp between spring and summer. Some of the chairs on their back porch had accidentally been left out in the rain so he pressed his hands against each of the cushions to find one that wasn’t damp and pulled that one over to sit next to where his husband appeared to have spaced out entirely, staring out in to the empty backyard with no facial expression to speak of. It was only when Madara reached out to lay a hand on his wrist that he stirred.

“Is everything alright?” Madara asked.

“Yes, yes. Just thinking.”

“Anything particularly interesting? No more thoughts about the dead rising again, I hope.”

Tobirama cracked an easy smile but shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to listen to those lectures again, thank you. I had something rather more pleasant on my mind.”

“Could have fooled me with such a serious expression.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it so he was a little surprised to have Tobirama turn to him with a grave look in his eyes, deep ruby red in the low light yet pretty in a way that made him wonder how he could have ever hated this man. They stared at each other until he raised his eyebrows in question and Tobirama smiled at him again.

“I love you,” he murmured simply. Madara stared.

“You…did you…?”

“No, I didn’t feel this way when we got married. You grew on me over time, I suppose.”

“Oh.”

Something heavy like guilt settled in his chest. The life they had built together was a good one and he was happy, he couldn’t deny that, but love? If he were asked to be honest he could not say that he loved Tobirama, not in the way it was clear his husband meant. Whatever spiral he was about to go down paused at the touch of fingers to his jaw, the twist of Tobirama’s wrist to weave their other hands together.

“You don’t feel the same,” he acknowledged, “and that’s alright. We both knew how we felt when we got married. Nothing has to change; I don’t expect you to feel any different simply because I do. I only wanted to say it because…well because I wanted to.” With a shrug he seemed to dismiss the entire subject and Madara was left feeling adrift.

For a while they sat in silence again. It was almost unfair how at peace Tobirama seemed to be, his conscience clear with that off his chest. Madara, however, was left to wrestle with the weight of knowing that his partner loved him while he felt nothing but companionship, friendship. Obviously it wasn’t as though he felt nothing, just that he didn’t feel quite the same. It didn’t feel like enough. The issue stayed with him for the rest of the hour they spent outside and all the way through getting ready for bed. He was still wrapped up in it by the time Tobirama pulled him down under the covers and told him that he was being ridiculous.

“It isn’t hurting me, really. We’re already together so there’s no sense in pining for something I already have. Whether or not you return my love won’t change anything so don’t be stupid.” With a roll of his eyes he pulled Madara down to lay on his chest. “If it bothers you then I won’t ever mention it again.”

“No, it’s fine. If you want to say it…”

Tobirama’s fingers in his hair were unfairly soothing. “I love you,” he whispered. “This life is more than I could have hoped to have. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.”

Madara chose not to reply but instead rolled his body a little closer and entwined their legs like he always did before going to sleep. Before long his husband had given in to dreams and he was left awake to contemplate things he couldn’t change and things that he could. He could end this relationship, though it would throw several years of happiness out the window and benefit no one in any way. He also could stay and go on being happy with someone who cared for him and would continue to do so.

He’d always heard that married life would bring unique challenges, though he was fairly sure this wasn’t the sort of thing anyone had in mind when they told him that at the wedding.

After lying awake for several hours eventually Madara decided that the best course of action was to simply do as Tobirama had suggested, to let it go, to not feel bad about it. If Tobirama said that the situation wasn’t hurting him then all Madara could do was trust his word.

Since neither he nor his husband had ever had the urge to procreate or carry on their family genes, preferring to leave that particular duty to their other siblings, children hadn’t ever been a conversation they felt the need to have.

From the amount of times he had found Uchiha Kagami raiding their fridge before either of them had even made it out of bed Madara thought perhaps they would need to have that chat after all.

“You understand, of course, that this is not your home and that is not your food.” He took great pleasure in watching Kagami jump with fright, slamming his head on the inside of the cupboard he’d been halfway inside. When the younger man turned around Madara scowled. Closing in on forty himself now, Kagami could hardly be called a young man anymore. This sort of thievery should be beneath him.

“I was hungry,” the brat protested. “And my house is empty.”

“Perhaps you should stock up on nonperishables before leaving for extended missions then.” Despite his own protests Madara still pulled out three plates to set the table before he began cooking.

Kagami sank down in to one of the chairs with that same old innocent grin that had first charmed Tobirama in to teaching him all those years ago. If it wasn’t for the stubble around his jaw it might actually look the same as it did back then, stupid baby-faced idiot. Madara resisted the urge to press at the wrinkles gathering around his eyes.

The two of them were bickering like parent and child when Tobirama finally made his way out of bed, absently gracing Madara with a kiss on the way passed to ruffle Kagami’s hair. He didn’t seem at all surprised to find his old student there. It was things like this that made Madara wonder if the apron strings had ever truly been cut between those two or if Tobirama even realized that he basically acted like the boy’s unofficial adoptive father. It seemed like something his husband would do, adopt a child without ever really admitted it even to himself.

After setting the tea kettle on and preparing three cups Tobirama sat down across from Kagami and chatted with him about the mission he’d just returned from. Madara listened to their chatter with one ear, nodding occasionally and snorting at the stupidity of others. When breakfast was ready he separated three portions of egg and sat down between the other two where his fading hearing could enjoy their gossip better.

It was a pleasant way to spend the morning and, despite what his grumbling would have others believe, it was one of his favorite ways to start the day. Only waking slowly to a hot mouth exploring his body could beat out the lazy contentment of spending that first hour in the company of family. Sometimes he even preferred the company of these two instead of the days when Izuna showed up to bother him. Madara loved his brother, truly he did, would never not love him, but age had not dimmed his energy levels and there were days when Madara simply could not be bothered to keep up with the man.

Getting old was supposed to be honorable and majestic. So far he found that it only made his limbs creak.

Neither his husband nor his clansman mentioned anything about him not contributing to the conversation; there wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary about him preferring to keep to himself, especially this early in the morning. Until breakfast was done he stayed quiet and concentrated on his eggs and when Kagami left he mumbled a goodbye and made sure to ruffle those insufferable curls on the way by. If he had to feel old today then someone else should have to feel unnecessarily young. It was only fair.

While Tobirama puttered around cleaning up the plates Madara watched him. He was in an oddly contemplative and whimsical mood, apparently, as he found himself asking odd questions without thinking about them first.

“Did you ever want to adopt him?” His husband paused and turned to blink in his direction.

“It never crossed my mind.”

“But if you could have would you? He was always your favorite.”

“Who knows?” Tobirama shrugged casually like it didn’t matter and turned back to the sink, running water so he could wash the dishes.

Madara scowled. “Fine. Well if you could have adopted – not Kagami, maybe, but just a child of your own choosing – would you have?”

“Didn’t we talk about this shortly after we took our vows?” Tobirama shot back.

“Answering a question with another question is cheating! You know I hate that!”

“I just don’t see what the point of your question is. If I ever did want children, well, I suppose we do have Kagami now that you point it out. And if I didn’t, great, never had to change any diapers except a couple for Hashirama’s spawn.”

Resisting the urge to smile out of habit, because the mutual dislike between Tobirama and his nephew would always be hilarious, Madara scowled harder instead. He hated not getting answers and he hated ever more when Tobirama deliberately avoided his questions.

“Just answer me!” he half-shouted.

Tobirama turned away from the sink and dried his hands on a nearby towel, taking a moment to look Madara deep in the eyes as he thought about what to say. When he finally spoke it was with the dawning light of understanding in his eyes and a step forward to grace Madara with a single soft kiss on the lips.

“The answer is yes, you have always been enough.”

“But…that wasn’t my question,” Madara protested in a very small voice.

“It’s what you were really asking.”

He didn’t really have anything to say to that. Tobirama was right, although he hadn’t even realized it himself until it was said out loud. Rather than face the implications of that he huffed and pushed his husband back towards the dishes he was supposed to be washing. It was a deal they had made very early on, that whoever cooked should be exempt from the cleanup. So far it had worked to eliminate quite a lot of fights.

“I have…things to do,” he announced.

Tobirama’s warm chuckle followed him all the way out of the house but Madara couldn’t say he minded as much as he pretended to.

The lights were all out when he entered but Madara was able to make out Tobirama’s profile against the massive windows on the far side of the room. Muttering under his breath about creepy idiots wandering around in the dark, he made his way over to the desk and lit the candles there with a tightly controlled fire jutsu. When he turned around Tobirama was still in the same spot looking through the window at the village below.

“What, pray tell, is so interesting that you’re still here at this time? It’s passed midnight!” He shuffled over to bring a candle to his husband, clucking in disapproval when he noted the bags under his eyes. “Don’t you understand the meaning of retirement?”

“This is my last night as Hokage,” Tobirama said.

“So that means you have to sit vigil over the office until morning? Are you worried someone might make off with it or something?”

“No. I was just wondering…what Hashirama did on his last night here.”

Madara froze. “Oh.”

Well now he just felt like an ass. Here he was scolding the man for staying up late when all he was trying to do was honor the memory of a loved one recently passed. Hashirama’s loss had rocked the entire village and no one had taken it harder yet with more grace than Tobirama had. The illness that had forced their first Hokage to retire came back to hit him hard and this time his body was too old to fight it off.

Now here Tobirama stood in the place where his elder brother had stood, ready to give up his place as his predecessor had, and Madara supposed he could see how that would leave a man in an introspective mood. If the issue at hand weren’t such a heavy one he might have cracked a joke of some sort or broken the mood with the classic grumpiness others had come to expect from him. However, even he knew better than to cross certain lines. Tobirama gifted him with a soft kiss on the temple and a grateful look when he set down the candle and wormed his way under the man’s arm.

“If memory serves,” he murmured, “he spent his last night in office trying to complete some paperwork that he’d told you was done a week before.”

“That sounds like him.” Tobirama’s eyes crinkled in a smile. It truly was unfair how free of wrinkles he was even after all this time. Madara’s theory was a deal with the devil, though he still hadn’t figured out what the devil might want in return for a wrinkle-free face.

Each slipping away in to their own thoughts for a while, the two of them stood by the window of the Hokage’s office and watched the moon trek slowly across the sky above their village. Konoha had grown in so many ways since the days when it was little more than a collection of mokuton-grown huts and dreams tied together with hope. There was so much to be proud of, so many people to be grateful for. Madara could hardly believe that once he had thought this dream a foolish childhood distraction no longer within reach. It was hard to imagine where he would be now if not in the arms of the man beside him.

Tilting his head up, he studied the way Tobirama’s face looked framed with moonlight. No age spots marred his perfectly white skin, no discoloration had touched his eyes. His nose was slightly crooked now after getting broken on a mission and not healing properly but in Madara’s eyes he was the most handsome man in all the Elemental Nations.

“Should we go home?” he asked quietly, trying to make a suggestion without letting it sound like a demand. Demands were for those who were still young enough to have the energy to back them up.

“I think I’d like to stay a little longer.” Tobirama took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “This has been my office for almost longer than it was his and yet I still feel him here every day. I hope every person who sits in that chair feels the same.”

“A bit creepy,” Madara said under his breath.

To his delight that surprised a laugh out of his husband. “I suppose you could see it as creepy.”

“Yes, I could because it is. No one wants that mug staring at them from the afterlife.” He was relieved to hear laughter again rather than the sharp intake of an offended gasp. Tobirama’s arm tightened around him and he felt another kiss press against his forehead.

“Maybe you were right. Let’s go home. Brother won’t mind if I remember him from somewhere more comfortable than a dusty office.”

“As long as you don’t remember him from our bed,” Madara tutted.

“Yes, dear.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Madara waved his hand with a small wind jutsu that he only remembered because memories made with the Sharingan lasted forever. All the candles snuffed out at once and plunged them in to total darkness but he only leaned in to his partner’s side a little more and let the man with better eyesight lead them out of the room.

Someday soon they were going to have to face the fact that they had finally reached that age where their friends and family started dying of old age rather than the battles they had all retired from years before. But…not tonight. Tonight he had a husband with warms hands to hold as they tottered off in to the chilly night. Tonight they were still alive and ready to kick ass the next day, next week, and for a few more years after that at least.

“I’m old.” Watching himself in the mirror as he spoke, Madara grimaced at the way his lips didn’t quite move as spryly as they used to. Once upon a time he’d had full lips with a wicked grin. Now his wrinkles had wrinkles and his lips had thinned, all shriveled up as Izuna had once teased him.

“That you are,” an amused voice agreed from just outside the room. Madara harrumphed and stormed out of the bathroom as best he could on creaky knees.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m still handsome!”

Unrepentant, Tobirama looked him down and back up with laughter in his eyes. “You should know my views on that by now, shouldn’t you? Fishing for compliments isn’t very gentlemanly.”

He was all but chuckling to himself as he stripped out of his lounge robe and pulled on a nightshirt, still disgustingly fit and attractive despite only being a handful of years younger. Every year Madara swore that the next would catch up with his husband and every birthday proved him wrong. Still he refused to give up on the idea and continued to insist; to give up on the idea would be to give in to the accusations that he was vain and there was absolutely no way he would be admitting to that.

At least he still had better hair, though. Even if it had gone white a long time ago.

Tobirama slipped under the covers and settled on his side. When he beckoned Madara resisted just to make his point but ultimately they both knew he was going to cave. Nothing got him to sleep faster than being wrapped up in his partner’s arms and listening to that soft familiar breathing pattern, feeling the comforting drumbeat of Tobirama’s heart against his back.

Crawling under the sheets and worming his way across the mattress in to the arms waiting for him felt more like coming home then he’d ever experienced all those years he lived by himself, dragging himself back to Konoha after a long mission just to pass out alone atop cold and dusty blankets. Neither of them had been out on a mission in more than a decade and still coming home to Tobirama’s embrace felt like he had won something from the day, beaten away the shadows of what could have been.

When soft lips pressed against the back of his neck he smiled and closed his eyes, expecting his dreams to be sweet.

“I love you,” Tobirama whispered.

Madara’s eyes slowly opened again as something bubbled up in his chest, foreign yet familiar, never named though it had been growing there for probably longer than he realized.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, awed by how much he meant it. Behind him Tobirama gave a sharp intake of breath and Madara realized suddenly that he was grinning like a fool. Just to feel the words again he repeated himself, “I love you.”

“You mean that.” Tobirama’s voice was filled with wonder and choked with tears that Madara simply didn’t have the heart to tease him for.

“Saying that if I didn’t mean it would be a special kind of cruel.”

The arms around him tightened and Tobirama burrowed in to him. Madara recognized the signs denoting one of the rare times when his husband was beyond words, moved so deeply he simply couldn’t speak. He was rather moved himself to finally realize such an incredible feeling and yet at the same time…

“I’m sorry,” he said, “that it took me so long.”

“No, don’t be sorry. If you never said the words – if you never felt this way – I would have loved you no less. I would not have been unhappy with what I have.”

Madara swallowed thickly and read between the lines easily enough. If he had never returned Tobirama’s love there would have been no regrets but that he did return it made things different in the best of ways. Pressed together like they were he could feel the thundering of the man’s heartbeat echoing his own, perfectly in sync the way they had been since the day they married. It was useless to wonder if there was anything either of them could have done differently that maybe would have opened his eyes to the possibilities earlier or even if he was simply meant to fall now after so many years.

Rather than waste time on any of that Madara turned his head and smiled in to the darkness over his shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered one more time. Tobirama didn’t answer with more than a light squeeze but he didn’t have to; his feelings had been made clear a long time ago.

Silence fell but it was not an empty silence, the minimal space between them filled with understanding and more emotions than either of them were properly equipped to process. Madara had a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting to sleep any time soon but a little rest lost hadn’t killed him yet. Laying away in his husband’s arms was far from torture.

Tobirama seemed to agree as he laid a row of soft kisses across the back of Madara’s shoulder, still not speaking but making his point perfectly clear. Madara hummed and rolled over on his back just to keep rolling to the other side where he could shuffle up under the other man’s chin. It amazed him that such an emotional moment hadn’t been marred by his habit of flailing over anything that even smelled like emotions, though he supposed that maybe it was finally being able to accept the feeling that had allowed him to recognize and express it.

Finally, he thought to himself with amusement, finally he was growing up. Tobirama was absolutely going to be smug about taking the credit for this. And after all the years he had waited Madara supposed he could let his husband have this one. He’d earned it, after all. If not for his whimsical question on a sunny afternoon none of this would have ever been possible.

#rae writes #madatobi #madatobiweek2019 #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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