#I wish people would think more about what kinds of struggles he must have navigating a human centric world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangirlsmood · 3 years

Text

Tomioka Giyuu x reader - inferiority complex

Summary : Noticing how Giyuu doesn't know his own worth, you try to remedy his inferiority complex.

Warnings : Spoilers about Giyuu’s past.

author notes : Seeing our little Giyuu blame and put himself down breaks my heart, it's time for someone to comfort him and tell him what an amazing person he is.

_ Tomioka-san !

Hearing your voice, Giyuu stopped in his walk and turned to you, nodding his head to greet you. You noticed that he was holding a bunch of papers, probably a mission report he had to return to Oyakata-sama.

_ You’re already back ! After filing your report, would you accept ...

_ No.

_ But...

You've been begging him for a while to train you. He had saved you a few months ago from a demon and since then you had only one wish: to become like him. You were infinitely grateful to him and you were so admiring. Not really knowing how to fight but wanting to be useful you had started to help at the Butturfly estate. However you wanted to do more, you wanted to save people before they could get hurt like Giyuu had done for you.

_ Ask another person.

_ Kocho-san is already taking care of Kanao, Rengoku of his little brother ... Everyone else is too busy to spend time with me. I want you to train me... please.

He looked you straight in the eye for a moment then sighed, unable to resist your perseverence :

_ Fine. I will train you but don't expect me to be a good teacher.

Since that day Giyuu trained you every time he return from a mission. You couldn't be happier. The training was difficult, tiring and sometimes painful but for you it was an honor. Even if he didn’t said it Giyuu was proud to see your progress. Besides, it was nice for him to have company.

•••••••••••

One day, at the end of a hashira meeting, Rengoku came to approach him.

_ Tomioka ! We don't see much anymore (Y/n) at the Butterfly estate. I heard that you train her.

He nodded, Rengoku let out one of his loud laughs :

_ It's surprising ! I had offered to train her but she had refused. Is she doing well?

_ She’s not bad.

It was surprising indeed. You told him that no one was available to train you and he learned it was a lie. Why had you been lying to him? He didn't understand what you could gain from it.

••••••••••

That night he found you serving dinner for both of you like you did almost every day since you had become his student.

_ Welcome home ! How was the meeting ?

_ Good.

His gaze immediately made you uncomfortable. Usually he always gave you a warm look, while now he was looking at you coldly, as if he had difficulty recognizing you. He took a seat in front of you and began to eat. After a heavy silence which weighed on him as well as on you, he decided to speak :

_ Why did you lie to me ?

You did not remember having committed such an act against him. Seeing your confused stare he developed his point :

_ Rengoku told me he offered to train you. Why did you tell me that no one has time for you ?

You didn't think he would find out someday. Nothing in his attitude or his voice let show anger but you knew he was necessarily upset. Giyuu was a man of his word and honor, for him a lie was a lack of respect. You were terribly ashamed, however, you manage to stammer an explanation :

_ Oh ! It’s not what you think ! In fact it is but... I mean I didn’t really thought about it... Believe me it was far from my intentions to disrespect you, I would have never offended you on purpose ! I just... I just wanted to be trained by you.

_ Rengoku is a really good and strong man. You should have accepted his proposal.

He marked a pause.

_ Go back to him, if you ask him I think his offer still stands.

Was Giyuu denying you? Did he no longer want you as a student? He got up and turned his back to you as if to end this discussion but you got up in turn, you wanted to stay by his side:

_ I don’t want anyone else to train me !

_ It would be better for you. He will be able to take care of you and make you evolve.

Suddenly you realized what was going on. Giyuu thought Rengoku was a better hashira than him. Didn't he know how strong he was too? You stood in front of him so you could look him in the eye, so he would know you weren't lying :

_ You’re strong too. And you’re a good professor.

_ You don’t know what you’re talking about. I am stronger than you that’s all.

_ You’re a hashira ! You’re one of the strongest !

He lowered his head you saw in his eyes, him who was usually so impassive, a hint of sadness.

_ I don't deserve this title. I shouldn't be there.

_ What do you mean ?

You noticed that his hands tightened on his haori.The words struggled out of his throat, as if part of him wanted to hold them back while another wanted to get them out :

_ Those who owned the two parts of this haorie should be there, they should be alive. Them, not me.

It was the first time Giyuu had talked about his past. You kept silent, you didn't want to rush him. You just wanted to understand him, reassure him, make him feel surrounded.

_ (Y/n)... I know you admire me and it's nice to have someone so dedicated by my side but you don't know everything. You idealize me. I am not a strong. I am not a good person.

One of his hand clenched the red part of his haorie :

_ I wasn’t strong enough to protect my sister...

His other hand clenched on the other part :

_ I shouldn't have passed the Demon Slayer exam ... Sabito should have, he was much stronger, much better in everything, but he protected me and it cost him his life.

You were speechless. Knowing that Giyuu, who was so generous, strong and usually impassive, had suffered so much broke your heart. You wanted to cry for him but you knew it would only cause drama. You will cry another day, now you needed to cheer up your beloved master.

_ Rengoku will know how to protect you, you will be safe with him.

••••••••••

The next morning Giyuu couldn't find you anywhere. He assumed you had chosen to join Rengoku. He was sure it was the best option and it suited him for the moment. He felt ridiculous for confiding in you last night, and was too embarrassed to see you again. Nevertheless he had become so used to your presence that he already missed you. Part of him regretted telling you to leave.

Fortunately you came back little less than a month after your departure and with a surprise. You ran to him yelling a "tomioka-san" as a greeting before handing him a package. A little taken aback he examined it for a moment. Impatient you pressed him a little :

_ It's a gift for you! Open it !

He followed your instructions and found a nice little bundle of papers taht were of different sizes and different colors. The writings and the ink used were also diverse. You started to explain nervously :

_ I wanted you to know how amazing you are, so I asked the hashira, your old master and a few of the people you saved to write down what they liked about you or what you had did good for them ... Oyakata-sama and Gyomei-san could’nt write but they dictated to me and I transcribed everything ... I didn't think it would take so long to contact everyone, sorry ...

He had already started to read. Everyone had written something even Obanai, Sanemi and Shinobu had found a few nice things to say. Shinobu had recounted a mission accomplished with Giyuu and admitted that without him it would have been a failure while Obanai and Sanemi were content to write a single sentence where they said that Giyuu was not "that bad" and that "some of these techniques were quite impressive". Urokodaki gently reprimand him so that he would stop always blaming himself and telling him that he was proud of him.

And finally there was your letter. It was the longest and as he read it he wanted to cry with joy. He wondered what he had done to deserve so much praise, he wanted to deny all these compliments but you had written a real reasoning full of examples to support your words that he was obliged to recognize his qualities.

He felt his heart melt. it must have taken so much effort from you to collect all these little words, it was a real treasure that you had just offered him. You watched him silently in his reading which lasted a long time and since he didn't say anything you wondered if it was really a good idea :

_ Erm... Do you like it ? It's okay if you don't, but keep them anyway. That way you could always reread them when you needed to ... you know ... know how amazing you are.

A smile covered his face and you noticed that his eyes were bright like a child who discovers the world. His smile was so faint you might not have noticed though it was the sweetest you've ever seen.

_ Thank you. It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me. It must have taken a lot of effort from you to convince Obanai, Sanemi and Kocho and put it all together.

_ You deserve all the effort in the world.

You gave him a huge smile and he believed you. He felt all the weight he had on his heart, all his guilt shut up in the face of all these kind words. For the first time Giyuu told himself not only that he was lucky to have you by his side but also that he deserved to be happy. Every time he read one of the letters he said to himself, although it was still hard for him not to doubt it, that he was worthy. More than feeling worthy, he felt loved.

••••••••••

Navigation

270 notes · View notes

fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Sunrise on Gotham

Read Sunrise on Gotham on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 29 - Wait!

Gotham wasn’t Marinette’s first choice for the location of their class trip. In fact, the grim American city hadn’t even made her top ten list. Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam, a city rich with history and culture. But when Mm. Bustier announced that a vote for the class trip location would be held, the class voted almost unanimously. After all, Lila’s long-distance boyfriend, Damian Wayne, lived in Gotham. Wouldn’t it be great for Lila to be reunited with him? And Lila traveled so frequently that she had already visited all of the other cities Mm. Bustier suggested. Would it be fair to make her go visit a city she had already been to? Marinette scoffed as she overheard the class discussion. She knew that this was just another one of Lila’s lies, perfectly designed to manipulate the people around her into doing what she wanted.

Marinette kept her mouth shut while her classmates all decided to vote for Gotham. But that didn’t stop her from putting her checkmark next to Amsterdam on the ballots Mm. Bustier passed out. Maybe that would have been the end of Marinette’s bitterness if Lila hadn’t “accidentally” glanced at the ballots on Mm. Bustier’s desk she was leaving the classroom. Marinette could still remember Lila’s sickeningly sweet voice, feigning concern for Marinette, asking why Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam so badly.

As Marinette scrambled for an answer, Alya turned to her with cruelty in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sabotage Lila and Damian’s reunion. You’re so selfish, Marinette.”

Marinette didn’t bother replying - it never helped. As she left the classroom that day, she could see the disappointment in Adrien’s eyes. Her crush on the blonde model had long since faded, and alongside it went the rose-colored glasses she used to see him through, back when they were both thirteen. Now, four years later, all she saw was a selfish boy who cared more about avoiding conflict than actually solving problems.

Four months later, the plane landed in Gotham just as the sun began to rise. As her class walked from the airport to the hotel, Marinette felt herself zone out. Even though it wasn’t her first choice, Marinette could still appreciate the sight that was the Gotham skyline. Looming silver skyscrapers were framed by the gray, cloudy sky. As Marinette took in her surroundings, she began to wish that she could stop and get her sketchbook out. Ideas for a Gotham-themed fashion line popped up in her mind like weeds, and she needed to stop and pick them before she could properly zone back in. Gray was a color she had never properly worked with, which would make incorporating the color a nice way to challenge herself. In her mind, shades of gray instinctively started organizing themselves into the different ways she could pair them together.

“Wait!” A hand grabbed Marinette’s arm, pulling her back. Marinette gasped as she realized that she was about to walk onto the street, straight into traffic. She whipped around to face her savior.

The first thing Marinette noticed was his height. She was used to feeling short, at 5′2″, most people were taller than her. But he seemed to dwarf her. She figured he was 6′0″ at least. The second thing she noticed was the look of concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Marinette nodded jerkily, trying to control her breathing. Having a panic attack alone in the middle of downtown Gotham would be just about the worst thing for her to do. She was supposed to be Ladybug, the savior of Paris, yet she was so unaware of her surroundings in a completely foreign city that she almost got killed in traffic. “I’m okay, I was just daydreaming,” she babbled, “Usually I’d be more aware of my surroundings, but I just got off of the plane and I’m not used to jetlag.”

The stranger had a bemused smile on his face as he walked her talk. Marinette blushed as she realized how dumb she must look to the handsome stranger. “Your accent, is it French?”

Marinette nodded. “I just got here from Paris. I’m on a class trip.”

“Where’s the rest of your class?”

Marinette looked around, trying to figure out which way her class went, but they were already gone, out of sight. “I’m not sure...” She trailed off. “But I have the address for the hotel on my phone, so I’ll be able to catch up with them there.”

“Gotham is known for being difficult to navigate. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“Sure,” said Marinette, pulling her phone out to check the address. “It’s called the Gotham Grand Hotel. It's on the corner of 7th Avenue and 22nd Street.”

“That’s about twelve blocks away. It’s pretty far. Are you sure you’re up for the walk?”

Marinette nodded. “I’m sure I can make it."

His smile returned as he introduced himself. “I’m Damian, by the way.”

“I’m Marinette,” Marinette introduced herself as Damian led the way.

A moment later, Damian's phone started to ring. He answered it while still walking. "Hello.”

A brief pause, then. “I’m on 4th Avenue, by the Starbucks.” Another pause as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone conversation. “I’m not free right this moment, but I will be in a few minutes." Another pause. "I'm helping someone get around the city. She got a little lost on her school trip, and you and I both know that the city isn't exactly safe when you don't know your way around it."

Marinette was beginning to wonder who exactly Damian was talking to, but she didn't want to be rude and interrupt. Instead, she got her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to Alya, telling her that she would be a little late because she got disoriented on the hectic Gotham streets.

"I'll be free until five tonight. Father's insisting that I come and have dinner with the family, and I have my internship afterward, from seven to nine." Another pause, this one longer. "I suppose that would work. I was planning on going out to eat at some point, anyway. I'll just have to ask Marinette if she's okay with it."

Damian put the phone down and turned to face Marinette. "My boyfriend, Jon, offered to pick us both up and drop you off at your hotel on our way to get brunch. If you don't feel comfortable with that, I understand."

"Oh, it's perfectly fine," Marinette assured him.

Damian frowned slightly before replying to his boyfriend. Marinette knew that Damian probably thought she wasn't being cautious enough, but she didn't care. After four years as Ladybug, Marinette was confident that she was capable of taking care of herself.

A minute later, a car pulled up beside them. “This is Jon’s car,” said Damian as he grabbed the door for her.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled in return as she pulled her suitcase in after her. "Hello, Jon. I'm Marinette."

"Welcome to Gotham, Marinette." Jon leaned past the driver's seat to shake her hand. Marinette noticed that he had a very friendly face: a nice smile and kind eyes. "How are you enjoying the city?"

"It's nicer than I expected, I suppose, but I didn't exactly have high expectations. Gotham has a reputation in Europe for being the worst tourist destination in America."

Damian nodded. "That sounds like Gotham. It'll grow on you, though."

"Like a fungus," added Jon.

"If you say so." Marinette cast a distasteful look out the window of the car at the gray streets.

"Do you have any plans for lunch?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. The hotel has a restaurant on the ground floor, but their lunch menu is pretty limited. I'm vegetarian, so my only option is a salad."

"Would you like to come to brunch with us?" offered Jon.

"Are you sure you want me there?" Marinette didn't want to be a third wheel if brunch was supposed to be a date between Jon and Damian.

"Of course," said Damian.

"Alright. I don't think I'll be missing anything if I go with you. Our itinerary keeps us pretty busy at the beginning of the trip, but we were given today to rest up, to help get rid of the jetlag. I switched my sleep schedule a week ago, though, so my body is already running on Gotham time.”

Damian nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to check the itinerary, just to be sure?”

Marinette shrugged. “It can’t hurt to check it one more time.” She pulled the paper out of her suitcase. “Our class doesn’t have anything planned until tonight. We have dinner at a restaurant called..." Marinette consulted her itinerary, "The Coast, and then we’re seeing Wicked at one of the theaters downtown.”

“I've been to The Coast before with my family. They have very good vegetarian options. It is very expensive for a high school class trip,” Damian noted.

“I go to an accelerated school. The school has a very large budget, due to the amount of tuition, and the number of alumni who give back to the school.” Marinette shrugged, a nervous tick. She didn’t like talking about how much her tuition cost. Even with her 50% scholarship to Francois Dupont, tuition was still a struggle sometimes. Her parents didn’t make that much money from the bakery, and compared to the elite professions of some of her classmates' parents, Marinette was often considered to be poor. It left her feeling out of place, guilty every time she felt embarrassed by her working-class parents.

“That sounds-“

Marinette continued to babble. “I’m grateful for the opportunities that François Dupont gives me. Much more grateful than a lot of my classmates, anyway. Some of them only read the itinerary for the first time on the plane ride to Gotham. One of my classmates, Chloé, threw a fit because she believed that the entire trip would be a shopping spree through Gotham. Other students got mad for other reasons. One of my classmates made some promises that she had no business making - telling everyone that we would be getting way more free time than we were actually given. It’s a shame. I used to love being a part of Mme. Bustier’s class, but everything fell apart after...”

Marinette stopped half-way through her sentence and stared down at her hands as she realized that tears had sprung to her eyes. She felt the red flush of embarrassment begin to overtake her face. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. It sounds like you have a lot going on with your class at the moment."

"That's putting it mildly," said Marinette. "It's been... difficult, to say the least."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. Even if Gotham wasn’t my first choice for our class trip, I still want to at least try to have a good time.”

“What was your first choice?” asked Damian, a hint of curiosity to his voice.

“Amsterdam,” said Marinette longingly. “But Lila wanted to visit her boyfriend in Gotham, Damian Wayne, so the whole class ignored the fact that Gotham is the most crime-ridden city in America, all so that Lila could visit her boyfriend.”

Damian looked shocked. “Did she say her boyfriend is Damian Wayne?“

Marinette nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

Jon snorted. “I know that you like girls too, Damian, but I figured you would tell me before adding a third to our relationship.”

Damian rolled his eyes, quipping back something just as clever. Marinette was too stunned to listen, as she realized that the rich and powerful Damian Wayne whom Lila claimed to be dating was the same Damian who helped Marinette on the streets of Gotham. Marinette stuttered out, “I didn’t- I didn’t realize that you- you’re Damian Wayne.”

Damian chuckled. “I can tell. I have to admit, I’m not used to not being recognized. I'm pretty famous around Gotham."

“The Billionaire Bisexual Ice Prince of Gotham,” quoted Jon with a grin on his face. “The tabloids love Damian.”

“It’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped. The tabloids obsess over everything even slightly unconventional, and to them, the bisexual bastard son of billionaire Bruce Wayne is the perfect target. Even more so when he started dating another man.” Damian's voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness to it. Marinette got the sense that he didn't often open up about his relationship, for fear that the media would not be kind about it. Marinette sympathized. Françoise Dupont had been a progressive school: they had a GSA and a no-tolerance policy (not that the policy was ever upheld). She hadn’t been bullied, per se, for being bisexual, but she had experienced the all too familiar feeling of being othered for who she happened to love.

“Nice use of alliteration,” said Jon. His words would have lightened the mood if it wasn’t for the slight strain to his voice.

It was obvious to Marinette that this was a sore subject between the boys. “So how long have you two been dating?” asked Marinette, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Two years, but we’ve been friends since middle school,” answered Jon. “Damian was the world's most uptight twelve-year-old, so I took it upon myself to get him to loosen up. We became friends and everything since then just sort of fell into place.”

“An apt recounting, even if it omitted some pertinent details.” Damian conceded.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I was the one to ask you on a date, and you were so shocked that I had figured out that you were bisexual that you dropped the glass in your hand, shattering it,” teased Damian.

“I thought I was being subtle about it,” Jon defended.

Marinette giggled. If she could just spend all of her time with Jon and Damian, rather than her class, she might just have fun on her class trip.

Damian turned to Marinette. “He had a pride pin on his jacket and listened to Carly Rae Jepsen. Subtlety is not, and has never been one of Jon’s string suits.”

Marinette noted that she had a pride pin of her own attached to the front strap of her backpack. Most people never took any note of it - Marinette had quite a few pins on her backpack - but Marinette got the feeling that Damian was aware of it.

"We're here," said Jon, parking the car in front of a little café.

"Café Carlisle has good vegetarian options," Damian assured her as he opened up her car door and helped her out. "They make a superb gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and tomato basil soup. I would recommend it to anyone."

"That's pretty high praise. I get the sense you don't give false compliments."

"I don't." It was a simple answer. Marinette was beginning to get a clearer picture of Damian, who didn't waste unnecessary words but was never afraid to speak his mind.

"Then it had better live up for expectations," teased Marinette.

Damian smiled at her as he held open the door to the restaurant. "It will."

As Damian led Marinette to a booth in the back of the restaurant Marinette caught sight of the reflection of her little group in one of the windows. There was a look on Jon's face that Marinette wasn't sure how to interpret. He had a smile on his face, but it wasn't the joking smile Marinette saw a lot of in the car. It was more of an indulgent smile, giving Marinette the sensation that Jon knew something that she didn't. Marinette wanted to turn around and ask him what it meant, but part of her brain begged her not to ruin this budding friendship before it had even begun.

Marinette had only known Damian and Jon for twenty minutes but already had the strangest feeling that there was a connection between them, some sort of relationship that needed nothing more than a little bit of shown vulnerability to create a deep bond. The only thing Marinette could think to liken it to was love at first sight, but it was beyond that. This wasn't infatuation or obsession (both of which Marinette knew well from her days of crushing over Adrien). This was deeper. This was the knowledge that Damian and Jon had seen her vulnerability and had embraced it, showing vulnerability in their own way. Neither boy had said it out loud, but given that they had both closed themselves off from physical affection as soon as they were in public, Marinette made the assumption that any sort of public display of affection was off-limits to them anywhere that the tabloids could see. It put the fact that they had been incredibly open about their relationship in a new light. It reassured Marinette that she wasn't just imagining their connection. Damian and Jon must have felt similarly about her to be able to talk to her about their relationship.

"Marinette?" Damian spoke her name, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts.

Marinette blushed. "Sorry, I tend to daydream a lot."

Damian smirked. "I'm aware. You almost wandered right into traffic the last time I caught you daydreaming."

Jon stifled a laugh. "What could you possibly be thinking of that would make you so focused that you managed to ignore the traffic right in front of you?"

Marinette launched herself into a spiel about her newest design inspiration, explaining as she went that she was incredibly passionate about fashion and designs and that her designs often had her zoning out for hours at a time. Jon and Damian looked so interested in her explanation that Marinette blushed, not used to having anyone's undivided attention.

Marinette wasn't yet certain where she stood with Damian and Jon in terms of the relationship between the three of them, but she couldn't wait to find out.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #Damian Wayne #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #MaribatMarch2021 #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

388 notes · View notes

hungry-tum-stuff · 3 years

Text

Lanayru Region - Zora’s Domain

Breath of the Wild Regional Food Series - Part Four

Description: After helping them conquer Vah Ruta, the Zora are more than grateful and decide to throw a feast in Link’s honor. Link over-indulges quite a bit, but Sidon is quite impressed by how much the hero can eat.

Includes: Hunger, Stuffing, Stomach rubbing, Touch-Starved Link, Ambiguously Platonic Link and Sidon interactions

//TW: Descriptions of hunger, descriptions of stuffing-induced stomachaches, Themes of Touch Starvation

Link had conquered Vah Ruta.

It hadn’t been easy, it had taken long enough to disable the beast, and even longer to navigate the inside and slay the Blight Ganon that had taken Mipha’s life. Such an ordeal had left him eager to return to Zora’s Domain, for more than one reason.

The biggest reason currently being food.

Food was practically the only thing he could think about after freeing Mipha’s spirit. With the adrenaline and rush of memories of his friend now passed, he quickly became acutely aware of the empty hole in his gut. Spending nearly a day disabling a Divine Beast and fighting a Blight Ganon had left him starving. He wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it, either.

“Link! My dearest friend, you did it! You are truly a hero among Hylians, a true- oh, goodness, you’re not injured, are you? You don’t look well” Sidon fussed, worriedly standing over Link as he got his footing after being teleported to safety by Vah Ruta.

Link just shook his head in reassurance as he took a shaky step towards Sidon. However, he wasn’t as alright as he’d thought, because his knees buckled as soon as he tried to walk. Sidon immediately caught him and stood him upright again, before kneeling down to Link’s level to inspect him.

‘Wounds were healed by Mipha, I’m fine’ He signed slowly, and Sidon looked at him, baffled for a moment.

“My sister healed you? But, how-“ He was cut off by a low growling sound, and as Link clapped two hands on his tummy, Sidon instantly knew what the problem was. His previous confusion was replaced by laughter, and Link’s face turned a bright red. “So that’s why you’re so light on your feet. You must be starving! Not to worry though, I knew you’d be hungry after your victory. So I had the domain prepare something special for you” He insisted, taking Link’s hand gently and leading him into Zora’s Domain. Link followed along, Sidon hadn’t exactly given him a choice, but he found it a little hard to keep up with the prince’s long strides now that his exhaustion was finally catching up to him.

Sidon led Link into the throne room where that ‘something special’ had been set up, and as soon as Link saw what it was he stopped in his tracks, absolutely stunned.

It was a feast. A huge table was laid out before him, covered end-to-end in tons of different fish prepared tons of different ways. Not to mention all the bread, pasta, and rice dishes. Link’s stomach could only groan longingly, aching a bit as he gawked at the feast. He winced and clutched his belly before looking up to Sidon and quickly signing: ‘For me?’

Sidon laughed again. “Of course it’s for you! We very well can’t let our champion leave the domain without a proper reward for his victory. I’d also feel rather awful if I wasn’t able to remedy that empty stomach of yours” Link’s face flushed once again, but he simply kept a hand on his tummy as he was ushered towards a seat. Prince Sidon sat beside him, and King Dorephan regarded them both with a nod.

“Welcome back, champion”

~~~

After King Dorephan gave a rather lengthy speech of thanks to both Link and Sidon, which was almost torture for Link to sit through politely while his stomach was practically begging him to dig into the food right in front of him, the King finally declared that the feast commence.

And Link wasted no time in filling his plate to the brim and scarfing down every last crumb. The other Zora, which Link could only assume was every single Zora in the domain judging by the size of the feast, watched in awe as the Hylian champion chowed down on a hearty bass, and then immediately reached for another helping. In fact, Link was in such a rush to eat that he hadn’t even bothered to use the cutlery laid out for him.

However, Sidon couldn’t help but find Link’s lack of table manners somewhat endearing. Link had been an expectation breaker from the very beginning: Ever since he was a child he’d been told stories of the silent, stoic knight that had fought alongside his sister, but never in a thousand years had he expected that knight to be a Hylian barely taller than most Zora children, or that his silent exterior masked someone incredibly silly and unrefined.

Link wasn’t what Sidon had expected, and that’s what made Sidon endlessly interested in him.

“You ought to slow down, my friend” Sidon interrupted as Link reached to fill his plate with a third heaping serving. But as Link bent over the table, Sidon couldn’t help but notice a new roundness pressing against the stretchy material of Link’s Zora Armor. Link just paused mid-way through filling his plate and looked up confusedly at Sidon, who was still eyeing his companion’s tummy. “Zora portions are traditionally far larger than Hylian portions, and I’d hate for you to give yourself an upset stomach…” He warned.

Link just frowned and continued to pile food onto his plate before setting it down and signing: ‘Still hungry.’

Sidon chuckled and nodded, leaning over to get a second serving of his own. “Very well then, eat to your heart’s content. You’ve certainly earned it”

At that, Link beamed and continued to eat his fill. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third serving that he began slowing down a bit, and he was clearly struggling through the last couple bites until his plate was clean. As soon as it was, Link could only sit back in his seat with a sigh, one hand slowly creeping up to rest on his overfull tummy. Sidon finished his own meal before stealing a glance at Link and noticing just how distended his belly had become, and he gave a quiet laugh as Link met the prince’s eyes for a moment before looking away abashedly.

“You finished three plates of food? That’s incredible! I don’t even think I would be able to finish three servings of hearty bass without blowing up like a pufferfish” He marveled. Link’s face reddened when the prince pointed out just how much he’d eaten, and when he hiccuped as his stomach settled around the massive amount of food, Sidon just raised an eyebrow. “Although, it seems like you’ve gained a rather, hm, prominent middle after eating so much… Will your stomach be alright?”

Link just nodded and patted his belly assuredly, but as he did, his stomach roiled into a sharp cramp before grumbling unhappily. Link grunted and pressed both hands into his stomach, and Sidon worriedly set a hand on the Hylian’s shoulder.

“I’m not so sure you’re right dear friend, it seems like you’ve overdone it… Is your stomach upset?” He asked. Link tensed up as another gurgle tore through his stomach, and he nodded slowly before holding a finger to his lips and motioning to the other Zora at the table. He’d like to at least try to maintain a positive image with the people of the domain, and eating himself into a stomachache after they had been kind enough to throw him a feast didn’t seem like the best way to uphold his reputation. Sidon, somewhat misunderstanding the message, gave a bright smile and a thumbs-up in reply.

“Excuse us everyone, but our champion is quite exhausted after the events of today. I’ll be taking my leave to see him off to his chambers” Link’s face reddened even more as Sidon’s announcement drew the attention of the entire table, but thankfully nobody dared to comment on his noticeable gut as he stood from the table with Sidon. He was just bombarded with profuse good-byes and thank-you’s as he left with the prince.

‘Not very subtle.’ Link commented on their exit with a huff, and Sidon just tilted his head.

“Well, neither is that belly of yours.” Sidon quipped, causing Link to lay both of his hands back on his tummy, as if he were trying to hide it. “I apologize though, I wasn’t aware you wanted me to be subtle. I however, do want you to get some rest. And hopefully we can find a way to settle your stomach before you turn in for the night” Sidon insisted as he led Link into his bedchamber. Link would have just collapsed onto the bed, if he wasn’t cradling his swollen stomach like a mother would a baby. He opted to climb carefully onto the mattress, and when Sidon didn’t leave but instead sat at the foot of the bed, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I can leave if you wish, but I believe I can help soothe your stomach a bit. It does sound rather unhappy…” Link flinched and let a small whine slip out as his stomach rumbled and contracted painfully around his huge meal, and he slowly nodded in agreement before removing his hands from his tummy. Sidon nodded back, and soon enough his large, scaled hand had taken the place of Link’s.

“Oh my, everything is really packed in there!” Sidon exclaimed as he began to rub in slow, small circles around Link’s firm belly. Link blushed, looking away before raising his hands up to sign to Sidon.

‘You don’t need to remind me.’

Sidon chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose I don’t. I think it’s a bit amusing though, you just completed a feat that not even I could imagine accomplishing on my own, but the celebratory feast is what has you bedridden”

Link didn’t sign anything in response to that, but he did sigh with relief as Sidon was able to loosen a rather painful knot in his belly, followed by a few busy grumbles. As Sidon continued, Link found himself slowly easing into the touch and the slow, soothing motion of the other’s hand on his belly, and the comfortable silence lulled him into a state of relaxation he hadn’t felt since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection.

‘This feels really nice, thank you.’ Link signed before letting his eyes fall shut. Sidon smiled as his hand smoothed over a particularly tight area, releasing a chorus of rumbles. Both of the boys paused upon hearing the sudden noises, but Sidon gave Link’s stomach a gentle, reassuring pat before continuing to rub his overfull belly in slow, soothing circles.

“You don’t need to thank me, my champion”

#the moment you've all been waiting for #tummy noises #hungry tummy #tummy #sfw hunger kink #whump #botw #breath of the wild #link botw #sidon botw #stomach growling #stuffing #tummy rubs #fanfic #botw fanfiction #long text post #sidlink #fluff

82 notes · View notes

sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Golden II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hello. This is the second part of the Kakashi amnesia fic. I was so conflicted on what to do in this one and admittedly, I am not satisfied with this. Not completely. I really struggle writing the second part of a trio, and it's evident here.

Part three is up!

Word count: 4200

_______

Kakashi struggled to maintain his normal persona after Y/N got into the incident. He just couldn’t shake off that desperate need to be around her. At this point, it was just instinctual to look for her in the crowds, and expect to see her waiting for him each time he got home from a mission. He missed her laugh and her smile, and the people in the village did not help.

His only solace was on missions where he could forget about it all. It was an impossible struggle, especially when everyone and their mother was consoling him every time he stepped outside to do literally anything. He didn’t want people in his business, especially something so sensitive.

The mornings were now cold and depressing. Each time he rolled over in an attempt to throw his arm around his girlfriend, he was only met with the hollow space where she used to be. He would bury his face in his pillows and shut his eyes, just trying to drown out her voice from his mind. But her scent still lingered on his linens and buried deep into the pillows.

He imagined her groggy eyes opening just a peek to see if he was awake before her, and he usually was. She would smile and scoot close to his body, curling up and hugging him around the waist, her head resting against his chest. He missed wrapping her up in a cuddly hug, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

He missed going to get breakfast with her, and her ranting to him about this new novel the store had in shipment, comparing the plot to that of other books she had read and gushing over the character development or the vocabulary or a plot twist she'd never seen. She was always such a nerd, it was adorable.

And he missed meeting up with her each night as she closed the store, her hugging him so tight he could feel her heart beating against his. She'd attack his face with kisses and giggles, pulling down his mask in between the bookshelves where no one could see and gracing his lips with a kiss, or a dozen, depending on the day.

He just missed her. But he knew it was for the best-not knowing her anymore, not getting attached all over again, or letting her get close to him again. He thought of her amnesia as a fresh start, a way to break up with her without crushing her emotionally. She would never know what she was missing.

He would be the only one suffering, and that was better to him than the other way around.

For Kakashi, it was always hard to imagine he would get to a place in life where he felt comfortable enough with someone to maintain such a relationship. He didn’t think he would grow to have these moments with someone he loved. He worked through so many walls he had built up over the years, fought against all his paranoia and superstitions, and for what? To feel his heart break?

He felt betrayed, by whom, he had no idea. He just felt like the stars had aligned perfectly in favor of screwing him over the moment he was comfortable, the moment someone was able to squeeze into his heart and share their love. It would take time to get over his feelings for her, he knew that. The memories would always linger, but they wouldn’t cut through him like they did now.

For now, the only thing he could do was lie in his bed until his next mission the following day. Without her, he didn’t see any reason to get out of bed anyway.

______

Y/N returned to her apartment after being discharged from the hospital, and did as she was instructed to do. Each day she would look through her belongings, pictures, trinkets, anything that had emotional value, hoping it would bring out some of her old memories. Nothing really changed. Sometimes she could see flashes of people in her head that lived in the village. Kakashi, that guy in the green suit, Yamato, the sweet girl that took care of her all her days in the hospital. All of them appeared in her mind at one point or another, but nothing strong enough to give her any knowledge.

Tsunade told her to just keep trying and hopefully, something would fix itself. It seemed like a shot in the dark, but anything was worth a try.

It wasn’t until a few hours into the cleaning process, scrapping blood and ink out of carpets and stocking her shelves of the store, that she found something of real importance. Deep in the back of her front counter, hidden in a drawer, sat a small shoebox, filled with stacks of papers.

At first, she assumed they were probably just old receipts, but that was not the case.

Inside she found many things. Photos, notes, letters, and little trinkets all stacked carefully in the box like her previous self took extra special care of them. For this reason, she took the box to the table to sit down and go through everything one by one. Anything was worth a try, and maybe this would propel her recovery in motion..

First she examined the letters. They were very short, but full of information about her past self, and she found herself more intrigued and surprised with every word. Each one was from Kakashi, she noted that immediately. Out of all people, she could not imagine that man sitting and writing out anything nice or thoughtful to her.

But she was wrong.

They stated things about how he was on missions and wouldn't be back for a month or so at a time. He often stated how badly he wished to come back home and visit her bookstore again. How he was sorry for being gone so long that he couldn’t help around the store.

The first few, dated as far back as 7 years, were very friendly, nothing out of the ordinary for a correspondence between friends. It still seemed sketchy to her that Kakashi took time out of his day to send her letters, but not unbelievable. It wasn’t until they progressed right in front of her eyes that she was taking in every word with awe.

They detailed how much he missed seeing her face, which he often described as beautiful and precious. She was his motivator that kept him going each morning and through the long nights, he said. The man proclaimed his love over and over in the letters starting four years ago until the very last which was from a few months ago. He was never very descriptive or detailed, but he got across what needed to be said and what was on his mind very effectively.

She had no idea Kakashi felt that way about her. He really didn't act like they had any relationship at all. He actually spent most days avoiding her at all costs. Of course, she would see him walking down the street, and wave through the glass panels of her bookstore, not that he ever cared. He would usually take one look over at her, and then walk faster in the opposite direction.

To say her first impression of him was a bit off putting was an understatement. Where other people like Yamato treated her with kindness and humility, he seemed to think he was too good to try and reconnect. Although, he was certainly a handsome man and very courageous. She could vaguely see why her old self was at least physically attracted to him. Even if he wasn’t acting the nicest now, the letters led her to believe he was possibly a hopeless romantic.

She scanned through the other things in the box. The photos were ones of her with all her friends, but the majority were just Kakashi. The first few photos, the oldest, with the most damage around the frayed edges, were of them when they were much younger. He didn't have on the jounin vest he wore, and she had such a baby face to match a toothy grin. Maybe they were teenagers, 20 somethings? She couldn’t tell for sure.

The photos were just of them together. Sitting by certain sights or buildings, hugging, eating, on every kind of date you could imagine. It looked like she documented each one. Time stamps on the backs in whatever pen color she had at the time, scribbled details here and there.

It made sense now, why she had a pile of disposable cameras in her room. Dozens of photos of Kakashi, decades of memories all piled up in this box between the pair. It felt surreal, seeing herself in places she couldn’t recognize, in the arms of a man she barely knew.

She must have really loved him before. Their relationship was one of quite a few years from the looks of the things in this box, and obviously she cherished even the little moments. She felt guilt pang in her chest, and her stomach to turn over painfully. How he must have felt when she told him she didn't remember him. How it must feel walking past her in the street and knowing what they had was gone. She couldn't imagine the pain he had to be going through.

And he said that the entire thing was his fault. That day he walked into her hospital room, he apologized for what he did to her, saying that his family was the cause for this, and that he should have come to the store earlier to make sure something like that never happened. He wasn’t a superhero, despite what everyone thought of him. He was merely a man, a shinobi with a love for porn novels and dogs and one girl he desperately wanted to protect. Now that was gone.

Needless to say, she felt awful. It wasn’t her fault for not remembering him, but it sure felt that way.

She set everything back into the box and put it in its place under the counter before flipping the open sign to closed and heading out into the street. She knew where he lived, only because of the return addresses on the envelopes of the letters. She was still quite familiar with Konoha and it's workings, some of the street names hazy but there. She was now determined to make it to his apartment, even if she had to ask everyone in town to help navigate.

If he was on a mission, so be it, but if he was home, she wanted to see the man.

Thankfully, she realized that he lived only a few streets away from her when a street vendor pointed her in the right direction, but damn, he lived on the fourth floor and she inwardly cursed him. Her legs were still a bit shaky from the incident, and she hadn't healed completely. Stairs were a pain for her. This entire man seemed like a real pain, honestly.

She finally made it to the fourth floor after hobbling up like an old man, and knocked on the second door. She was going to have a conversation with this man, the same man who was keeping their history a secret this entire time without trying to make a connection again.

No one in this town wanted to explain anything to her. Yamato was nice but he always beat around the bush and left when things started getting informative. Sakura just fawned over her broken limbs and injuries. And the man in the green jumpsuit was too loud, she usually had to kick him out once she felt a headache coming on. Other than that, she didn’t have many friends. They’d told her her family died in a “jinchuriki” attack, whatever that meant, so she didn’t have any family to ask either.

As she waited at the door, she felt her stomach churn. Part of her was genuinely curious how her younger self fell for him and what they were like together. Like, what was the appeal? He seemed kinda strange and distant, and she couldn’t help but want cuddles and love constantly. It seemed like an odd match, and Y/N couldn’t help but question it.

Opposites attract, I guess.

After a couple seconds, the door opened a crack, and a half dressed man answered the door. She found her face heating up a bit. He wasn’t even exposed in any way, he just wasn’t wearing his headband, nor did he have his jacket on, revealing toned arms and fluffy, messy hair that she had to admit was pretty adorable. Okay, so she could definitely see herself falling for someone so handsome, but regardless, she was on a mission.

He looked startled to see her standing there in all her glory, out of breath and bent over like she’d run the whole way here. She held onto the doorway to balance herself. Perhaps she was just a tiny little bit out of breath from climbing the stairs still. Y/N apologized quickly, “Sorry, give me a second. Going up the stairs is really hard to do and you live on the fourth floor so, yeah.”

“Who told you where I live?” He questioned, scanning the walkway to make sure no one else was around to be listening.

“You did, actually,” she answered after taking a deep breath. “I found an old box of letters from you, and I just went to the return address.”

The letters. How could he forget about them? He had tried to rid her place of all signs of him, taking out pictures of the two of them together save for a few with other people included. He took out every single belonging he had. The only thing he missed was the letters, ones he didn’t even know Y/N had kept in the first place. He cursed himself.

Her reading the letters made him feel violated. Even if the letters were for her, it felt like a stranger had just read some of his deepest and most pathetic thoughts, the ones of love and adoration and depression all piled up in a few letters addressed to a Y/N he used to know. He felt sick thinking about what this woman now knew.

“Okay. Well, listen, you really shouldn’t just come to my apartment like this. I’m not fond of drop in visits.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I want, Kakashi Hatake, or should I say, my lover,” she laughed, resting one of her hands on her hip proudly. He felt himself wince at the sound of those words coming from her lips, seeing her childish grin. It reminded him too much of before, how they used to be, and he couldn’t handle that. Suddenly, he felt that familiar sickness rolling in his stomach. “How come you never said anything about it?”

“Because, I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Why? Obviously you were a very big part of my life and I, yours,” she asked.

He sighed and leant on the doorframe, his eyes never leaving the village over her shoulder, anything other than meeting her eyes. He really did not want to have this conversation with her. He would have talked her ear off about a month before when she actually had her memories and knew who she was, but today, with the way she was, he might as well be speaking to a stranger.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“It’s because I was going to leave you after the accident either way” he confessed, and she could only nod. It wasn’t like she was gonna get offended by his words, she didn’t even know him. He continued, “It makes me sick knowing that all this was my fault in the first place.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The reason that man and his lackeys kidnapped you is because of my father’s mistakes,” he sighed, “That bastard wanted to get revenge by hurting you, since you and I were close.”

She nodded, tapping the floor with her foot as she absorbed everything he’d said. That is what he alluded to before when they met in the hospital. She replied calmly, her tone so understanding it made him feel nauseous.“I see. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that your fault. You definitely didn’t directly cause anything to happen, if anything it was your father. I’m not offended at all.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t make this anyone's fault but mine.”

“Really, it’s not your fault. You could have never predicted this,” she tried to say, but he just went on, words flowing out faster than she could argue against them.

“It doesn’t matter. I knew that it was wrong to let you into my life. You would have lived just as happily if I’d have ignored you and let you meet some son of a baker, get married after a year, have a bunch of kids, shit, I don’t know,” he cursed. She could tell he was breaking down feelings he had been harboring for a while, and she pushed past him into his apartment, walking right under the arm he was resting on. This wasn’t something to talk about in public, out in the open. “I knew that if you were with me that you would never live a normal life, and I still let you fall in love with me, all because I was too selfish to put my own feelings aside.”

“Love shouldn’t be suppressed like that. You did what was natural.”

“Yeah, and look where that got us. Look where that got you, Y/N.” He waved to her bandaged legs. “You’re never going to remember me again, so it doesn’t matter if I rekindle our relationship, does it?”

She took a seat on the edge of his bed to rest her tired legs. He seemed so angry with himself, so much self hate radiating from his person. He was hurting so badly, and she just wished he would let her comfort him.

For a moment, she wondered if he would let her hold him like before, so he could pretend that things hadn’t gone wrong, even for a short time. Put his mind at ease if only for a short while. Y/N refrained from saying anything, though. Physical touch was probably one of the worst things for him right now, especially from her.

Instead, she meditated on what he said. She sat there fiddling with her fingers, trying to figure out what to say to him, anything that would make the situation easier for him. All she ever wanted was to make life easier for others, and if her way of doing so was being kind and thoughtful toward these worn shinobi, then that is what she would do.

She leaned back on her hands and let out a soft sigh, words surfacing in her brain that might just do the trick. “Kakashi, do you want to hear something that might bring you hope?”

“Whatever,” he brushed off, not thinking anything she could say would make the situation better. He’d tried for a month to make things better and nothing was working.

“I’ve been having dreams. Dreams of the past, dreams of memories that I have forgotten. When I look through photos, new images appear of people that I used to know,” she told him softly. “Tsunade says that means I’ll regain my memories with time, it’s just taking a bit longer than we had hoped. She thinks I can get everything back. The girl that you used to know.”

He stood there for a moment, just processing what she said. He could feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest, and he lifted his eyes slowly to meet her own. She always had such soft, gentle eyes, even now. “Do you have any dreams of me?” He was hesitant to ask, but she gladly nodded. “What do you remember?”

“Well, it’s mostly just snapshots here and there of you and everyone else. Short little tibbits of what life used to be like. I know Yamato has wood nature jutsu because in one of my dreams he had summoned this ginormous tree. I know there is a younger guy with the most yellow hair I’ve ever seen. I know that you have a red eye under the headband, but I don’t know what it’s for,” she explained, listing off some examples of things shehad dreamed of.

He hummed. “Firstly, you’re right about Yamato. He’s actually the only one alive who can use that jutsu.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Is that why he’s head of the...uh, that group? The ones with the animal masks?” she asked, feeling foolish at her lack of knowledge.

He let out the tiniest of chuckles, just a hint of one. “It’s actually ANBU, but good on you for knowing about them. And it’s not just because of his wood jutsu, he is also a very skilled and strong shinobi. He is a good team leader,” he explained. For a moment, he almost found it fun to listen to her struggle to remember things and then help her out. He noticed the way her nose crinkled when she was thinking especially hard about something, and god, it reminded him of before. He felt his heart thawing with each look her way.

Kakashi shut his front door and walked over to the other side of his bed. He took a seat against the wall, kicking out his legs. He was beginning to relax. “And about the yellow haired kid? That’s one of my students, Naruto Uzumaki. He’s a handful, but also a very talented, determined shinobi.”

She mouthed the name to herself a couple times, trying to memorize it. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t be too sure. A lot of things sounded like she should remember them, and she couldn’t exactly figure out which were right.

“And your red eye?”

“It’s a long story, and we won’t go into it. Simply put, this eye is called the sharingan. It’s a special dojutsu that only members of the Uchiha clan possess.”

“So you’re part Uchiha?”

“No. That’s the part I’m not gonna get into,” he brushed off her question. That was something that he really did not want to discuss again. He’d already told her the story once, he didn’t need to do it a second time, even if she had amnesia. When he looked over at her, she looked so familiar. Her eyes were filled with happiness, and he noticed that her lips were curled up into a sweet smile. “What are you happy about?”

She shook her head and turned her head to hide the upward curl of her lips. She was just so glad, her whole body felt warmer because of it. “Because you are being nice to me and explaining things. No one really explains things to me, they just skip around stuff usually,” she confessed as she tapped her heels together.

He could only shake his head at that. “You deserve to know at least the basic stuff, just until you get your memory back.”

“Hmm? You’ll explain any of my memories? Like any of them?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Oh, yeah, well explain this dream I had.”

“Shoot.”

Her smile took a mischievous turn, and he definitely noticed the change. He could only imagine what she was about to ask. “I’ll give you a hint...I know what you look like completely naked,” she giggled, falling back on the bed and covering her face with her hands.

“And you call me the pervert…” he sighed, crossing his arms behind his neck. Her laugh, it was like music to his ears. No matter what she could say, he was just relieved to feel her beside him, gleaming with a happiness he missed for nearly a month now.

“I really had a sex dream about you the other night, but you can imagine my confusion. I was like, what the hell, I don’t even know the guy,” Y/N laughed, “It all makes sense now.”

He rolled his eyes at her sense of humor. Things felt so normal, like before. He felt his chest grow warm at the feeling. Kakashi’s lips cracked into a grin under his mask, not that it mattered to wear the mask. She already saw his face in a dream, it seemed kinda pointless if they were alone.

Maybe he would let things go back to normal. Maybe he would talk to her more, and let her visit when he was home. Maybe he could go to her store when she waved to him instead of running away like a coward. Maybe he could let himself be happy, despite his faults, despite what happened to her. The wounds could be mended, he decided.

He just couldn’t help but be selfish and let her back in.

#kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #naruto imagine #naruto one shot #i really love reader in this #i would marry her if i could #steal her from kakashi lol

205 notes · View notes

lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

Draco x Reader One-Shot

Summary: This is based off the song ‘Moonlight’ by Ariana Grande. During the bad times of War, not everything has to be so black-and-white. Both Y/N and Draco know it just too well.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: language

tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Composing yourself had been more than a hard thing to ask for lately.

The Death Eater had finally taken Hogwarts under their control; famous Harry Potter, who was allegedly supposed to play a hero, disappeared in the depth of the unknown; the plan of escaping the school turned out to be an utter failure since the Dementors encircled and blocked every passage of absconding, escalating the disappointment over students.

Yet you hadn't thought of the plan B as an alternative solution, but you were sure, even if you managed to find one, it might take a few more months to figure things out. And you had to admit that increasing anxiety about your parents made you cry yourself to sleep at night. Despite your insistent pleads of the letters to contact you, you hadn't received any response or other sign of life ever since over two months of a constant worry.

And yet, it wasn't the worst part.

The Carrows, who unwarrantedly preferred to call themselves professors Carrows from now on, had decided to introduce their new methods of teaching everyone. And punishing for any triviality.

Once, for example, in Charms class -- which was the worst nightmare of a week -- you had been asked to stand up in front of the class and demonstrate a Crucio curse on the First Year who happened to accidentally bump into Alecto in the corridor. Obviously, you hadn't obeyed an imposed task to which Carrows only reacted with unrestrained rage. Instead of punishing the eleven-year-old boy, the lesson had turned out to be your disciplining session of torture for not being submissive enough. Although the feat had brought you more renown later on, which served to make Carrows more flustered, you still couldn't get out of the Hospital Wing for whole three days.

All of that also led your Occulumency to suffer, which was doubling the struggle. There was for sure no doubt it was an important skill to have, not only to create a mental barrier protecting yourself from uninvited intruders; but also preventing others' thoughts from leaking into your head. It was already enough of bearing the non-stopping suspense in the air. So, the idea of accumulating more emotions on your account would probably navigate to an outburst.

One thing, however, surprised you. You had found out that people who outwardly seemed to have quite a reputation of cruel tossers were actually more decent and human than you could think. In particular, certain Draco Malfoy, who had been selected as a Head Boy in terms of this year.

Wandering around the school and doing the night patrols, he had happened to find you sitting hunched over, face buried in your knees, and sobbing brokenly at the fate the Wizarding World was faced to deal with. He had flumped next to you, without question, silently accompanying and comforting you in moments of solitude.

Two other times of your encounter had been in the library: spotting you among the crowd of students, he would come over and take a nearby place. You didn't know whether it was a matter of pride or disposition, but he had never spoken up, which you, in fact, didn't mind. At first, you had been a little bit dubious about his sudden influx of approachability. However, as to mute your suspicions down, you tried not pondering about it too much.

Funny, how the real nature of the boy who you had known for a nonchalant sneer and teasing remarks, could suddenly become so interesting and mysterious.

It was on a Thursday late that you were strolling up to The Astronomy Tower to see the Thestrals soaring in the air. Normally, it was around the time when you would be putting yourself to the bed, but too many thoughts were buzzing in your mind, and you knew it wouldn't give you much space to sleep anyways. The only optimum, instead of staring aimlessly at the ceiling and flipping from one to the other side of the mattress, was busying yourself with something else. The lack of sleep was due to nothing else than today's lesson with Carrows. They had thought up an idea of having some practice with a Confrigo spell which, rather unfortunately, was presented on a living phantom. As always, a whole hour of torments was disastrous, to say at least, and even after classes, you couldn't shake off the echo of troubled screams and beggings, which carried over the petrified room of students. That's why you were thinking you could swallow your emotions down, quietly and undisturbedly, in the only place you could wish for some private space. Besides, it was the only spot resembling the old Hogwarts you had known from the previous years, showing the calming extent of green grounds.

However to your surprise, when you pushed the door to The Astronomy Tower, noiselessly, you could notice a silhouette of a man already standing at the barrier, which made you momentarily flabbergasted suddenly considering an option of running upon a teacher. To save yourself from much too unwanted detention, you decided to change your track, rushing straight into your dormitory. But almost as you succeeded doing so, in the last moment, a person shifted in their place and spoke up before you had room to move.

"Pretty late for a casual stroll, huh?" At once, a feeling of dread ebbed away, and you exhaled deeply air you didn't know you were holding as you recognized none other than Draco with his back turned towards you. His tone was as usually taunting, but something in a timbre of sadness was hitched to it as well. "Shouldn't be sneaking out of the room on the patroling hours, you know? I'm the least of who you could come upon today."

Your dignity told you to say something in order to defend your harmless saunter to calm down your nerves, which benefited only your mental account. However, he made a point -- you could have been caught not only by some random teacher but Currows themselves who, you were inexorably aware, wouldn't let a chance of dehumanizing others slip away. And besides, you were a little too dumbstruck to speak, realizing it must be the first time Draco fucking prince Malfoy had uttered more than a word to you. What was a coincidence of meeting up with him just on the same day as you had been wondering about your atypical relationship formed within this school year?

Before your contemplation ended, Draco's voice carried on with a conversation, echoing off the walls. "Care to join? Seeing as you're already here."

Frowning to yourself at how surreal the situation can become, you stepped off the stairs with no more hesitation. You truly wouldn't have suspected the things would turn out that way -- embracing his Head Boy position, you thought he would send you off back to the Hufflepuff Tower with his dismissive attitude as it usually was. Inviting you over to company him was a top cherry you hadn't even considered. Truthfully, it made you feel a little thrilled to accept this offer.

As you walked over to him, his facial features became much sharper than from afar. Now, as you looked at him closely, you could define the contours of his face were even more angelic yet still masculine than in daily light. The platonic hair glinted accordingly to the moon above; his blue eyes were focused on a black void in the sky, clearly pondering more than concentrating on a particular object; a mouth pursed into a line, not a mocking expression he was usually carrying himself with. Eyeing him like that and still not being capable of deciphering him suggested he must be someone between a completely unemotional git or an excellent master of Occulumency. You preferred to presume the second one.

Quickly, realizing you were staring, you turned your head to behold a collection of vivid stars hovering above your head. You knew it was only in the Wizarding World that sky flickered so brightly -- your father was a muggle, and a whole family dwelled among a non-magical society, which you didn't mind at all. And that's why you were able to recognize... differences existing between those two worlds.

"Why are you here?" you asked curiously, not quite capable of restraining yourself from doing so. You were standing close enough to him to smell his sandalwood cologne.

He gave you a perfunctory smile, and although it was a three-second gesture, it somehow made you lighter on the chest to know he was convenient with a conversation. "Needed someplace to think," he explained, not darting his eyes away from where he was looking. He took a pause there. "You?"

"The same reason," you answered simply, shrugging. "My roommates can be too loud sometimes, and I needed some silence to sort out...stuff."

Draco nodded in understanding, not interfering any further into the topic. Brushing your hair habitually with fingers, you scolded yourself for coming up here in the first place. How could you act so irresponsibly to think you could smoothly break a regulations' rule and without anyone finding out? Although you were desperate to hide it, the presence of Draco made you inexplicably nervous, and even though you tried to gulp it down, your stomach was churning when he was around. Time proved his intentions weren't bad after all, and you confronted with the truth ever since he first happened to find you at the moment of your meltdown in the corridor, clutching to him as if he was your sanity. But that didn't dispel your doubts about him becoming a fully active Death Eater, who praised with a Dark Mark on the left forearm like with a reward for some kind of acrobatic stunt.

Your gaze swept briefly over the rolled-up sleeves of his snow-white shirt only to assure yourself the mark didn't disappear off his arm with some help of the power of your imagination. Yet it was still there -- as always, tinted coal-black, scary and blood-curdling every time you looked at it.

That evidently didn't escape Draco's notice who, as though reading your mind, started. "You know, I didn't want this." He didn't have to show what he meant by saying so because you instantly figured it out. You looked up at him, and almost invisibly, his skin pale as it already was, changed even to the whiter shade. "He has bait on me. All of this: assassinating Dumbledore; obeying his will -- it's not because I want that."

The sudden shock welled up at these words, and you gawked at him stupidly, not quite able to process what he had just told you. Swallowing with some difficulty, you coerced yourself to a mutter. "Why... why are you telling me this?"

For the first time this night, his steely stare landed at you, scanning your face to detect signs of emotion. You attempted to conceal it, but he could see you were thunderstruck by his unexpected confession. Without preamble, he smiled slightly at you. "I thought you ought to know."

Ignoring the clenching in your chest, you did your best to not break eye contact with Draco when his eyes were intently locked on yours now. You could swear, something on the verge of interest and sympathy flickered in them for a second. "Why?"

"Because you're the only person who doesn't freak out when I'm around," he explained carefully. "Every time I go to the library or appear in any other public place, you're the only one who doesn't glare."

He closed his eyes, clearly relived with the fact he could confide the worries he had been carrying for a long time. Breathing out through the nose and his lips flinching a little, his head spun again to the blank of the sky.

It was a depressing sight to see him in such dejection, and the images of him being cast aside by his former group of friends with who he had been laughing merely a year ago rolled into your head, try as might to suppress it. You could only imagine what it must feel like to be rejected by everyone around; to play the main role in something you never wished to participate in.

For a moment, you thought he was going to continue because he grunted enigmatically, but the silence remained. Unable to restrain the urge to offer physical comfort, you affectionately grabbed his palm, squeezing it in the reassurance that you were there for him. He didn't attempt to break himself out of the grip, which presumably was a good indication.

"I believe you," you stated, for some reason, satisfied with the fact you're the one to comfort him. "You are a good person, Draco."

This time, it was he who clasped your hand, and he glimpsed at you once more, towering over you with his long legs. "No. In the past, things happened, and to say, I'm not proud of them. Jeering, mocking, insulting -- that wasn't fa-."

"Past is a past, Draco," you cut him off, knowing where it all was leading, and you wanted to bring it to an abrupt end. It was the least adequate moment for apologies. "You can't fix it. Good that you understand your mistakes by now."

He hummed in comprehension, smiling, and his grasp tightened around your palm as if you were about to run off from him, which he couldn't be more wrong about. Admitting to yourself, you loved his smile -- though it was seldom, it much differed from a smirk you were accustomed to at that point -- and you secretly hoped he could do it more often. You also loved that even if he didn't talk much, he was very successful in lifting you up.

Therefore, there you were: standing arm-to-arm with your ex-bully who you had happened to run across; observing the moon in its full exposure; holding hands in reassurance. Both of you clearly enjoyed this gratifying moment and were lingering towards it not to end.

"Thank you," Draco finally choked out. "Thank you for...everything."

Ultimately, smashing the wall of uncertainty down, he wrapped his arms around your neck, hunching a little to adjust to your height, and buried his face in the crook of your neck. At first, your body stiffened at the sudden touch and a skip of the boundary, but as not to agitate him, you adapted yourself soon enough by reciprocating the hug. You started to rub the slow, steady circles on his back, and little by little, he began stroking your hair, softly grazing your scalp.

How long you stood clinging to each other like this, you didn't know. Hearing Draco sigh quietly, feel the rise and fall of it against your hands. Your heart sunk when you heard him breathe out, and you prepared yourself for him to mix out of the embrace because of sudden consciousness he was cuddling with a half-blood Hufflepuff he had been mocking for half of a decade ('I should get going'; 'I didn't mean what I said earlier; 'leave me be, Y/S'). But none of this happened, and he was only murmuring into your ear.

"I presume I should escort you to the dormitory. I could tell you were the whole time with me so no one would get any suspicion if we run into...anyone," he offered, yet you felt him almost grimacing at the thought of ending a moment you were two having.

"Mhm..." you agreed with no more opposition. "But let's give it one more minute."

____________

A/N: This is so typical of me to do something other than what's necessary lmao ;) The second chapter of Summer Nights is almost up if anyone interested. As I think of it now, this one-shot gives me such a vibe of Loud Places/Turn. However, I hope you enjoyed it :) Oh, and I'm explaining the sudden change of schedule with posting: 1. I'm very irresposible; 2. I got the super inspo to scribble this one-shot. Hah, sorry...

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x oc #draco x you #draco malfoy #hp #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #hp fandom #hp fanfic #slytherin #hufflepuff #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fanfiction #pottermore #harry potter imagine

88 notes · View notes

reachgirl · 4 years

Text

On Buddie and them potentially being aware of their feelings

So we definitely see evidence of how Eddie might feel about Buck, how he clearly loves and trusts him. He absolutely relies on Buck a lot as someone who loves Christopher, as that person you go to who cares about your kid as much as you do. And he clearly doesn’t handle not having Buck around very well during the storyline that must not be named.

He also looks at Buck like “you’re lucky you’re pretty”, a LOT. And he’s shown to think about Buck’s wellbeing and Buck’s feelings. For a guy who’s not usually great at ~the talking~, he seems to sense that Buck needs to hear him actually *say* things like that he trusts him, out loud. For Buck, someone who’s been told that he’s reckless and impulsive, not diligent, not reliable (and to be fair to Bobby, has been all those things at times, but is desperate to change that view of himself), to be told that he’s trusted - more than anyone else - with someone’s kid? That’s huge. And Eddie knew that he needed to hear that, he also knew that he needed to feel like part of something when Buck was depressed and hanging around at home after the truck bombing. And Eddie was the one who noticed Buck wasn’t around at the station. For Eddie, the fact that they “have each other’s backs” is so important, because, and it’s insane how this is not wishful thinking on the fandom’s part, he actually tells Shannon that she doesn’t have his back. So yeah, absolutely nobody is disputing that Eddie loves Buck.

And I’ve talked about how I believe that Eddie might be bi leaning towards more into men than women (his “not my type” and aunt pepa’s reaction to buck are the foundation for this theory), and his particular combination of upbringing, experience and location really messing with him admitting that to himself (Conservative religious culture, Texas, army, getting married young because of outside expectations). But many of the scenes we get from him could - FROM THE OUTSIDE - very well just show a guy who has a lot of love and respect (and occasionally some fond exasperation) for his best friend. Possibly more, but not in that active, pining way. Not like he’s truly aware of it, yet.

But Buck? He pretty much always looks at Eddie like he’s the best thing that has happened to him, ever, and he can’t believe his luck of getting to be around this man. The smile he constantly gives him, and - in seasons 2 and 3 - only him, is the actual “I want to sleep with you smile” from season 1 Buck. I don’t make the rules.

He constantly finds ways to help him out, reads up on things he knows Eddie is interested in or things that are for some reason something Eddie is dealing with (whether it’s baseball biographies or summer camp brochures), and absolutely always looks to him for approval anytime he does something well or remotely badass. Or even when he makes a joke. It’s almost like 95% of the stuff he does, he does so that Eddie will see.

He sees himself as part of Eddie’s family to the point of not feeling like he’s a guest at their house, he has proven he would actually die for Chris, and he spends much of his free time finding ways of making Chris, the most important person in Eddie’s life, happy. He shares in both the happy and the difficult parts of raising Chris, he gets involved in school problems, and he’s there for Eddie to talk through all the little things that come up when you’re a parent. Often times, with single parents, when the other parent isn’t around, the problem is that there’s nobody else in your life who shares the same love and enthusiasm or worry you have for your child. You could talk about everything relating to them for hours, but even the best meaning friends will at some point reach the limit of how interested they are. Not so with Buck.

But unlike Eddie, Buck is also aware, to a point, of how much he’s focused on Eddie. Where Eddie’s jealousy comes across as more spur-of-the-moment, not something he’s even aware of, Buck seems like.. he’s thought about how he feels about Eddie. Others definitely have. Maddie’s comment about his “man crush” aside, even a random christmas elf (long may she live) comments on it. Hen and Karen immediately agree Buck would invite Eddie, like, Karen knows about this even. Their reaction when Buck is acting irrational over how they might get Eddie out when he’s buried alive and most likely dead already is that reaction of “Oh fuck, this will break this person” that is usually reserved for the significant other or parent. Bobby definitely reacts to Buck in relation to Eddie the way a father would, carefully weighing being amused at how obvious he’s being, and concern over not wanting him to get hurt doing something stupid trying to save Eddie, or by falling for him when it might not be reciprocated. They all know that Buck’s a little (more than) smitten with Eddie. And Buck... of course he’s going to notice how his friends and family react. I think he’s been aware of it for a while and is constantly trying to navigate and balance this.

Of course he hasn’t told his face about balancing anything at all yet, because look at that man’s face any time he looks at Eddie, look at that scene with the medal. He absolutely can’t help it. And sometimes it’s like he wants them to pick up on it - for example, pushing Maddie on the fact that he doesn’t consider himself a guest. And that’s completely understandable, sometimes you want people to pick up on something and maybe even comment on it (because their reaction reaffirms to you that maybe you’re not crazy) while also not wanting attention on that point. People are complicated like that. And Buck may be a himbo, but he’s complicated AF.

We get Buck being really weird about Eddie and Shannon in general - right off the bat. When Shannon shows up at the station and she and Eddie talk, Buck’s in the background and overhears that they’re sleeping together. He clearly struggles with this information, (and Chim possibly notices..) then he get’s real petty about them potentially getting married again (”Maybe you can get a discount”) - and he nopes out of the situation as quickly as he can - because he doesn’t want to risk saying anything snarky.

Then Chim and Buck go christmas tree shopping, and Chim comments on how Buck can’t let Eddie’s situation with Shannon go, and it’s true, he can’t stop himself. But when Eddie asks him for advice in front of the fountain (/metaphorical water penis as I like to call it), he’s suddenly all “I didn’t think it was my business” ... ok, sure, Buck. Then he basically tells Eddie to try and make it work with Shannon. In terms of character development, in a romance, this is the part where person A wants to be with person B but doesn’t think they have a chance, so makes the choice to try and settle for being their friend, which, heartbreakingly, involves pushing them into the arms of someone else.

Also, his kind of “oversharing” of Eddie’s situation with Ana to the rest of the team is, to me, a pretty clear indicator that the topic makes him uncomfortable and he’s trying a Ross Geller-I’m making Fajitas- “let’s show everyone how very completely normal I feel about this” approach, which.. it doesn’t.. work that well. And when does this ever work, it’s super easy to see through this, and it usually just serves to draw more attention to the fact that you’re uncomfortable with whatever is being discussed.

Buck also takes everything Eddie says to heart. Like, fucking takes it and will not let go of it. Half a season after Eddie tells him that he makes everything about himself, he breaks down telling Maddie he’s worried he’s making the situation with the old firefighter about himself again. During the kitchen scene (or “The actual how-to-guide of what to do when you thought the guy you have a crush on doesn’t reciprocate but then you have a fight and he really doesn’t handle being away from you so well so you kind of might as well see where being a little more openly flirty will get you”), Buck’s clearly thought about Eddie’s words from the grocery store fight, and he’s gonna call Eddie out. And maybe do other stuff.

Looking at what the writers are actually doing, to end the season, there’s the clawing at dirt of it all, Buck falling apart when Eddie’s buried alive. Buck being in almost all of Eddie’s memories when he’s close to dying. And Maddie’s comment about not wanting to set Josh up with Buck, which is innocent enough, but why throw that in on top of all of the above, if not because maybe what we’re actually looking at is that they’re setting up a sexuality crisis for Buck, and him realizing he’s maybe into Eddie, but Eddie not actually reciprocating (yet)? And say Buck is then somehow forcefully pushed to see the truth about how he feels, maybe by, i don’t know, coming across TK and/or Carlos on a call, and one of them asking him how long him and Eddie have been together? We might get Eddie with Ana, and a very long, drawn out process of Buck realizing what’s happening and trying to leave them alone, and Eddie being really confused about why Buck’s being like that. Then we would have two options (well, more, really, but these are two I like): 1) Eddie pushing Buck on that point and demanding an explanation and Buck just coming out with it because fuck it and sorry and please let me see Chris still 2) Buck’s sexuality crisis (or not crisis, if he’s always been pan/bi, which, look, nothing I’ve seen has disproven this theory) leading to him dating a guy and Eddie getting really jealous but not actually being aware of the fact what he feels is jealousy (because he doesn’t realize how he feels about Buck, see this whole essay you just read), and Buck being the one who confronts Eddie about why he’s being such a homophobic asshole about this, and Eddie straight up kissing him because he can’t not anymore.

385 notes · View notes

tessiete · 3 years

Note

"You’re burning up” for Obitine BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

FOR YOU? ANYTHING!!! But only if you like it. If you don’t like it, please immediately erase this from your memory so we can still be friends. Anyway, there’s meant to be some stuff in here about the fever of first love, and like passion and fire and stuff, but it’s also just them bitching at each other so....I TRIED.

I love you!

IT CANNOT HAPPEN TWICE

“You’re burning up.”

“Remove your hand from my face before I remove it from your person.”

“I only meant to say that we can rest,” he explains, watching as Master Jinn forges on ahead, clearing a path through thick brush. “If you need to.”

It is safer here, out in the wilds, than on the road, the stretch between Mircine and Kar’Marev known for kidnappings, hunters, and corpses, but Satine will not be bowed.

“We may if you need to,” she spits. “I am perfectly capable of continuing without breaking, though I would not begrudge any weakness of yours.”

He grits his teeth, and she holds his gaze, steady and fever bright, the heat of her presence grinding him into deference out of respect for her position, for his master, and for the basic tenets of the Code - a Code which he seems to remind himself of continuously these days. Certainly, he has become more familiar with the first precept than ever before. He is intimate friends with it, having meditated on it for hours with no great success. There is no emotion.

“Of course, your Grace,” he says. His bow is shallow and poorly done, the curve of his lips equally false, but she says nothing. “I was only trying to help.”

“Thank you, padawan,” she says, then turns and marches on.

He catches up with her at sundown, hours later, and her condition is not improved. She stumbles along behind Qui-Gon, head bent, eyes on every next step. Her breathing comes in ragged gasps, and Obi-Wan can’t help the worried glances he keeps throwing at Qui-Gon’s broad back. He frets at the strand of shared consciousness between them, like he frets at the hem of his sleeve, and when it’s finally gone dark, he approaches his master where she cannot hear them.

“She’s ill,” he says, with no attempt at a conciliatory preamble.

“I know,” says his master. “I had hoped we might reach Kar’Marev tonight, but it is later than I thought. And I dare not brave the open plains past dusk. Not like this.”

“Then we’ll rest for the night?”

“We will,” Qui-Gon says. “Though I fear it will not help us much.”

“Master?” He shuffles nearer, and Qui-Gon speaks even lower to be certain of their confidence.

“The duchess is ill,” he says. “And if her fever persists she shall not be able to continue tomorrow. If it breaks, she shall be too exhausted to proceed. Either way, our efforts will be in vain, and worse - foolish. We gain nothing by gaining ground on foot only to lose it in body.”

Obi-Wan glances behind him as the duchess stokes the embers of their fire, banked low so as not to draw attention. She coughs, and it sounds as though it catches on every ribs, rattling and severe.

“Is it so serious?” he asks. “We are at least a day’s walk from help in any direction. What if she gets worse?”

Qui-Gon huddles close, scratching at the edge of his beard. “There is a plant,” he says. “A weed, really, and so it should be in no short supply. If I can find it, we may make a tea of its leaves.”

“A local remedy,” says Obi-Wan, looking skeptical. “Will it cure her?”

“It might alleviate the worst of her symptoms.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Show it to me, master,” he says, closing his eyes to search out the gossamer impression of light and colour in the Force. But his master frowns, and holds him at arm’s length.

“No, Obi-Wan,” he says. “I shall search. You must stay here, and care for Satine.”

“What? But master, surely it is better that I go!”

“I know what I’m looking for, where to find it, and how much we need.”

“There are hunters on the prowl -”

“- And the only company worse than yours, should one find her here. Stay, padawan, and watch over her.”

She coughs again, and he throws a doubtful glance over his shoulder before applying to Qui-Gon once more.

“Master -?”

“Be kind,” he says. “And patient. Trust in the Force, and I shall be back soon.”

But Qui-Gon is not back soon, and the night grows cold and dark around them. The creakers in the grass go to bed, and the home world Mandalore hangs heavy in the sky until the clouds come in and shroud it from view. Obi-Wan smothers the fire with sand, the red heat of it glowing bright in the absence of planetlight. He worries it might draw the eye of any unsavory observers, and trusts that Qui-Gon will be able to navigate without it. He can feel him, far afield, illuminating the shadows like starlight falling softly over leaves, and moving father still.

“Do you think Master Jinn will return before dawn?”

Satine sounds miserable, her voice crackling in place of tinder. She clears her throat, and clutches her thin cloak more closely about her.

“I hope so,” he replies. “Maybe sooner.”

“I had not thought reconnaissance something so eagerly done at night.”

They had decided between them it would be best to keep Qui-Gon’s purpose from the duchess. Qui-Gon had said that she was already struggling under the weight of so many expectations of infallibility that one breach might be enough to topple her. Obi-Wan had simply desired an evening free of insufferable debate. If Satine suspected either reason, she would be offended, so Obi-Wan shrugs, and unrolls his bedkit.

“Master Jinn felt it would be better if he used the cover of night to clear our path than simply hope we don’t stumble across some hive of villainy in the daylight.”

“And you agreed with him?” she says.

“I trust him,” he says, unflinching. “Master Jinn is very experienced in matters of this nature, and I trust him to lead us safely.”

“So long as the Force wills it,” she mutters. It is not his imagination that some bitterness sours the air, then, and he feels it twist against his spine, drawing him stiffly upright to counter her.

“Yes,” he says. “But you seem to be labouring under the presumption that trust in the Force is tantamount to resignation to our fate.”

“Isn’t it?” she demands. Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks flushed pink and raw.

“Isn’t pacifism?” he retorts. “Or would you contend that laying down arms in the face of violence and oppression a brave choice?”

A twig snaps in the distance, but Obi-Wan feels no danger stir in the Force. Foolish - for she scowls at him, baring her teeth like a feral strill on the hunt.

“What do you know of bravery, padawan? You have always been at heel, always in the shelter of your Order, and your Temple, and your Master Jinn. You know nothing of fear.”

“And you know nothing of me,” he snaps. “But I would fight. I would sacrifice everything for what I believe is right. I would die for it.”

“And so would I.”

“I would kill for it,” he says, and she is silent. He feels his victory at hand, and her silence. his reward. Finally. “Don’t speak to me of bravery. You have fine ideals, and beautiful dreams, but I have seen the galaxy, and I know what it is to face villains who would destroy everything you love simply for the sake of seeing you suffer. I would not wish that on you, but your pacifism will not save you from it. I’m sorry, but I cannot see peace for your warrior kind.”

Satine sniffs. She coughs. He feels a sharp tug in his chest, looking at her already so weak and downtrodden by illness, and now battered by his own unruly emotions. But then she throws back her head. Her hair is lank, the lily-white gold of its strands turned dusty with neglect, but she is somehow regal still.

“We are not violent by nature,” she declares. “Our cultures, our traditions - there is more to Mandalore than bloodshed. And there is bravery in standing bared and open with nothing but peace, our shield between life and death. A blossom is just as noble as a blaster. More, for it thrives in harmony and gentleness. It lives, it grows, it seeds, and grows again. A blaster can only destroy. Would you have me wish that for my people?”

“I do not know your people.”

“Then do not speak for us,” she says. “I may not have seen the galaxy as you have, but I know Mandalore. Pacifism is not passivity. It is still the warrior’s way.”

Obi-Wan kicks out the end of his coarse bushcover, straightening the edges, and smoothing away bumps that rise up beneath the narrow mat. He says nothing as she coughs, not even when the next fit lasts for more than a minute. He only folds his rucksack so that his spare stockings and pants may act as a pillow, and cushion the edges of rations and various other instruments of use. He sits. He pulls off his boots, and aligns them neatly beside his bed. His stockings are next, and he lays them flat to dry in the open air of the forest. At last, the choking and sputtering behind him fade, and he lies down with his back to Satine.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Master Jinn?”

“No,” he says, closing his eyes. “And I wouldn’t advise you to, either, though I know nothing I say has any weight with you.”

“But what if he needs help?”

“Then I don’t suppose your being awake will have particular value there, seeing as you won’t lift a finger to defend him.”

He can hear as she surges to her feet, and kicks at the little rise of buried fire. Bits of sand and ash scatter at his back, but it is only a bluff.

“You’re insufferable,” she says.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he assures her, pulling his coverlet up high, and nuzzling against his pack until it cradles his head just so. It is a warm night, and the earth still holds the heat of the day. The insects of Harswee have been until now a mannerly bunch, and Obi-Wan hopes that this resolution will last the night. He has already suffered enough.

He waits until he hears Satine unroll her own kit, kick off her shoes, and lie down before he releases a deep breath, and relaxes into the Force.

When he wakes, it is still dark. The air has turned cold, and Qui-Gon has not returned. Instinctively, as though still a child in the creche, he reaches out to his master, first, worried that it is some disturbance there which has stirred him from his rest. But no. Qui-Gon still burns, an effulgent flicker of light somewhere out on the plains, and Obi-Wan feels a sense of comfort and reassurance pass over him like a zephyr of thought. The problem does not lie there.

Instead, he finds it lying six feet away on the other side of the smothered campfire.

Satine’s fever has gotten worse. She shivers on the ground so loudly her teeth chatter, and her shoulders shake. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her, the thin coverlet strained with the desperate desire to provide some heat. Obi-Wan kneels to press his hand to her brow, only to find her skin slick with sweat.

“Oh, Force, Satine,” he says, shaking her awake. She looks at him with glazed eyes, but her frown seems instinctive, for it falls into place immediately upon recognition.

“I thought I said don’t touch me,” she says. There may be fire in her, but it is raging through her blood and her skin, and her words come out as thin as smoke.

“Your fever is worse,” he says.

“I know,” she replies.

“You should have said.”

He hurries back to his kit, throwing aside the cover and tripping over his boots in his haste to reach his rucksack. The careful work of folding and primping forgotten as he pulls it apart to find a small canteen of water and a packet of electrolytes. He tears the packet with his teeth, and dumps its contents into the liquid, shaking it, before returning to Satine’s side. With all the gentleness of newborn things, he slips his hand beneath her neck and raises her to rest against his chest. She protests feebly, but she cannot fight him, and when he brings the water to her lips she drinks as bidden.

“Small sips,” he says, one arm wrapped around her back to brace her, the other steadying her hand on the canteen. “You must stay hydrated.”

She nods, but pushes the drink away.

“Satine -”

“I can’t,” she whispers. She wilts against him, her head tucking itself into the crook of his neck beneath his chin. Her breath is hot against his throat, her body hotter still where he can feel the warmth of her fever radiating through the thin layer of her clothes where they touch. He puts the canister on the ground, propped up in the dirt but still within reach.

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “I’m so cold.”

“Alright,” he says, and he reaches forward to drag her coverlet from where it lies crumpled at her feet. “You’re alright.”

He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, and wraps her in his arms. She responds to his touch in a manner so differently than usual he can feel his heart stutter and stop in confusion. Burrowing deeper, she nuzzles her cheek against his chest, and folds her arms between them.

“Hush,” he says, rubbing wide circles over her back, the friction of his palm against the cover doing little to soothe her tremors, but doing much to calm his own uncertainty.

“Is Master Jinn returned yet?”

“He will soon,” he says, though Master Jinn is still distant and cool.

“Do you promise?” she asks. She has never asked for his word before, never solicited his opinion, or sought his comfort. He pulls back to look at her face, certain he is being mocked somehow. But her eyes are closed, and her face slack with exhaustion. She tilts her chin, until her throat is bared, and she waits for him to speak.

“I promise,” he says.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I trust you. Will you wake me when he does?”

“I promise,” he repeats, staggered by this turn she so easily concedes to.

“And will you stay with me til then?”

He tightens his arms around her, cradling her head, and holding her close so that she might be warmed by the heat of his own body.

“I promise,” he vows.

And in the dark, he waits, and he watches, and he holds her until the sun comes up.

#obitine #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #qui-gon jinn #year on the run #my fic #please #nobody look at how many of my fics end with someone promising to stay until someone else wakes up #i don't know what's wrong with me #i swear i sleep alone just fine #and i don't think i ever made anyone promise this when i was a kid #idk #NO JUDGING #star wars #prompt fill

103 notes · View notes

brokenbeskar · 3 years

Text

Negotiator

Chapter Three of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You finally make it to Nevarro to cash out your bounty, but end up revealing some details about yourself in the process

Warnings: some talks of gender (Din mistakenly uses the wrong pronouns for you, you correct him later), suicidal ideation (reader was saved from death but wishes they hadn’t been)

A/N: you finally get to reveal a bit more of yourself in this one!!! I hope you all like it! as always let me know if you see any mistakes or anything!

Somehow, you’ve never been to Nevarro. You’ve been to most of the Outer Rim at this point, but you’ve never stepped foot on this volcanic planet. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but two people waiting to greet the insufferable mandalorian you were traveling with, was definitely not one of them.

“Mando!” The unfamiliar man extends his arms out in welcome as the ramp to the ship lowers fully, the shiny mandalorian nodding in response as he descends. “And how's my favorite baby doing?” The stranger leans forward to smile widely at the baby in the mandalorian’s arms and give him a little wave. The baby coos happily back at him, reaching out to mimic his wave.

“It’s good to see you both alive and well.” The woman next to the both of them gives the mandalorian’s shoulder a rough pat, and he nods back in her direction too. Apparently that's the only way he knows to greet people back.

You stand there awkwardly, but mostly surprised. He has friends? People who are happy to see him? You have been dreading every second you’ve had to spend alone with this reflective asshole, how could anyone actually enjoy his company? It's probably the baby. They only like him for the baby. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“And who’s this you have with you? Care to introduce us to your friend here?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts and realize everyone is looking at you, the stranger man giving you a welcoming smile. You start to descend the ramp yourself so as to not be rude, stopping just besides the mandalorian you arrived with.

“He’s here on guild business. We’re splitting a reward.” He nods in your direction, but you're confused. Was he talking about you? Like...he nodded in your direction while talking about you, but ‘he’? It must have been a mistake. You ignore it and don’t say anything.

“Splitting a reward?” The stranger man spits out, shocked. “What for?”

“I ran into him on Jakku. He helped me take down the bomber and we agreed to split the reward in exchange for travel.” The mandalorian explains. You tilt your helmet up to look at him questioningly. First of all, you helped him? Oh he's got it all wrong, he tried to steal the bomber from you. And second, why does he keep referring to you as ‘he’? Suddenly it dawns on you--your helmet. He’s seen what you look like without your helmet, and you're half his size, but despite that he’s picking pronouns based on what your helmet tells him.

This helmet wasn’t made for you, it bears the masculine T shape visor, instead of the more rounded feminine shape traditional in mandalorian armor. It’s really the only distinguishing factor, mandalorian culture doesn’t really care for individuality. It doesn't matter who you are, just that you’re a strong warrior. Hell even all of the pronouns in mando’a are gender neutral. Well, you still don’t like him, but at least he’s respectful.

“Well, if that's the case, lets go inside to talk business. Forgive me for my lack of manners, I’m Greef Karga.” He turns to you, and places his hand over his chest as he introduces himself, before notioning to the woman next to him, “And this is Marshal Cara Dune.”

You nod in return to the both of them, offering your own name readily. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” The both of them look surprised, confused you just gave your name, and that just confuses you.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about figuring out a distinction between the two of you now, do we?” Karga chuckles out. You just look between the two of them, then to the mandalorian besides you. Weren’t they friends? Did he never bother to introduce himself? That doesn't make sense to you. You decide to let it go for now, you’ll ask him about it later.

You follow as Greef Karga leads the group of you through the city. It’s far nicer than you were expecting considering you know guild operations were being run here. There were bustling shops and children running and playing, the smell of food from nearby stalls filled the air. Colorful tapestries and awnings lined the streets, shops selling all kinds of fanciful wares.This isn’t what you were expecting at all. Cara’s marshal status must be no joke, she must be half the reason this place is running as smoothly as it is. She ends up having to part with your group halfway into town to deal with something. She’s polite when she excuses herself and makes a point to mention that it was nice to meet you before she heads out. She’s nice. Her strong exterior is only strengthened by her winning smile. You wonder how her and the mandalorian met, how they ended up friends.

The rest of your group makes it to the nearby cantina and settle at a table. The baby has fallen asleep in the pouch the mandalorian is carrying. You’re a bit surprised how nice it is inside, it's not a dirty grimy bar, but a more respectable establishment. This was clearly a place of business.

“So,” Karga starts, “I understand you're a guild member, but I don’t recognize you.” He folds his hands together on the table between you.

“My usual outpost is on Carajam.” You explain as you pull out your bounty puck and slide it onto the table in front of you. The mandalorian next to you takes out his several pucks and puts them onto the table next to yours.

“Ahh, I see, Carajam. Quite the hub that one is.” he nods gathering the pucks infront of him, but pausing before he grabs yours. “Unfortunately, I can only cash out one of these.” He holds up the mandalorian’s puck for the bomber up, “So I’ll split the reward for this one between the two of you.” “Cash mine out instead.” You nod in the direction of your puck on the table.

Karga raises an eyebrow at you, “yours? I’m sorry my friend, but there's no difference. The rewards are the same.”

“Check it, they’re not the same.” You lean back in your seat, getting comfortable. Karga looks confused as he picks up your puck instead. He activates it, and looks down at the flickering image in shock. He notions to one of the guards stationed nearby and they appear at his side almost instantly with a holopad.

“How did you get a commission price this high? On such a low level bounty too…” His voice trails off as he navigates through the menus of the holopad.

You just shrug, “Just really good at catching bounties I guess.” You relax even further, leaning an arm over on the back of your booth. Your body language is oozing confidence. He just hums lowly to himself while he continues to fiddle around on the holopad.

“I assume you use a different name for guild operations?” He looks up at you and you freeze. You haven’t had to mention your old alias in years. Your regular contact knows you well enough that you never have to supply it.

“I do. You can take it off my puck.” You try to keep cool, notioning towards the puck still sitting on the table. “It’s a guild bounty, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be a problem if I knew you maybe.” He lowers the holopad and sets it on the table before leaning forward in his seat, “I’m sorry my friend, but this is my first time meeting you, I’ve got rules to follow you know. I need to verify that it's actually your puck, and not a stolen one.” You tense at the accusation, turning the gaze of your visor to the floor beside your booth.

“This is ridiculous,” you spit out, “that's my puck, and that's my bounty frozen in carbonite. Just give me the reward.” You can’t help how defensive you sound. You really don’t want to say it outloud. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels too painful, and quite frankly you're embarrassed. Especially considering the mandalorian next to you. You realize you’re probably coming off as suspicious at this point, but you don't care. There's no way anyone could understand how difficult just saying the name he gave you out loud actually is for you.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult,” he reasons, changing his tone to try and sound more genuine, “But I’ll have to cash in Mando’s puck instead of yours if you won’t give me your registered name.” Your whole body is tense now. The confidence that once oozed off of you is gone. Your struggle to give up your alias is obvious to anyone, even with your helmet still on.

Finally you sigh, you can’t afford to lose those credits. “It's Laar Sennar.” You breathe out, quieter than you want. You think maybe it was too quiet for anyone to actually hear you, but then you notice the mandalorian next to you, snap the gaze of his visor to you, and you know he heard. His gaze also confirms your suspicion that he knows mando’a. Of course he does, what mandalorian doesn’t?

“Thank you, Laar Sennar. See? Wasn’t so hard was it?” Karga smiles at you then picks the holopad back up to look you up. “And there you are!” He exclaims when he finds you and looks over your file. The smile on his face fades, and before he says anything you already know what he sees, “Oh, I’m sorry about your partner.” He looks up from the holopad and gives you a compassionate look.

Despite knowing it was coming, it still stings in your chest. Just like your alias, no one mentioned him anymore unless by accident, and even that was rare. “It's fine.” Is all you can muster, but even that comes out short and forced, your hurt clearly audible in your response. You’re making an absolute fool of yourself, are these credits even worth it? You let out the lightest sigh. You’re not even sure it registers through your helmet’s modulator, but that would be for the best.

“Well, now that I’ve confirmed this puck to be yours,” Karga sets a stack of credits on the table in front of you and the silent wall of beskar next to you, and splits them in half, sliding each in their respective directions, “here are your credits. Mando, here’s your reward for your other pucks.” He pulls out some more credits and slides them over to the mandalorian next to you. “Now in regards to new jobs, I’ve got a few options. However…,” he pauses as he shifts his gaze between the both of you, “Perhaps if the two of you were willing to work together again...I’ve got a bigger job I could give you.”

“Bigger how?” The mandalorian next to you speaks for the first time in what seems like forever, and you're surprised this is what makes him speak. Was he actually considering working with you? The thought of being forced to work with him again sounds awful, it would take way more credits than Karga is about to offer you for you to take it.

“Sixty Thousand. For each of you.” You think you choke on air. Sixty thousand credits?! Suddenly working with this shiny tincan of a man doesn’t sound so bad afterall. Karga pulls out the puck and sets it on the table, “It’s not an easy job, you’ll have to work together to make sure he doesn’t escape, or you’ll be chasing him across the galaxy. Bit of a slippery one, this one is.”

“We’ll take it.” You blurt out before you even discuss it with your newly established business partner. Sixty thousand credits is too good to pass up. You look up to gauge his reaction, but he's staring directly at you already. Shit, he’s going to decline it, you just know he is. You should have known, he probably hates being around you just as much as you hate being around him. You are each just a nuisance the other can’t quite seem to shake off. Much to your surprise however, he reaches out and grabs the puck off the table, pocketing it. A silent agreement. He accepted the job. Oh thank the maker.

“It’s settled then! I’m only giving you the one job for now, come back to me when you’ve completed it and I’ll give you new ones. This one might take you both awhile.” Karga smiles brightly at you both. “Regardless, I hope the both of you will stay in Nevarro a bit longer? I can provide lodging if it means Mando here will grace us with his company awhile.”

You go to respond, but ‘Mando’ himself interrupts before you even start, “We’ll only be staying long enough for a supply run. We’ll be gone by sundown. Could you have my ship fueled up before then?”

Karga frowns at that, “Honestly Mando, when is it anything other than business with you? But of course.” He turns his gaze to you, “Well it was a pleasure to meet you, I hope to see you back on Nevarro soon.” He gives you a hearty smile, and you give him a nod in response.

“Likewise. Until next time.” You stand to leave with a wave to Karga and your new hunting partner follows out behind you.

“I’m surprised you seemed so excited to take the job.” He states amusement seeping into his tone.

“It’s like you said, Five thousand credits isn’t enough for a ship.” You shrug back at him. “Looks like we’re stuck together for a little while longer, shiny.” You continue to walk besides him passing through the main road of the city, scanning the shops for anything important. You stop at one shop in particular and start loading up on medical supplies, throwing them onto the counter. When the shopkeep tells you the price, you turn to look at your new business partner expectantly. “Well? You got paid out a lot more than I did.” You nod towards where he pocketed his credits earlier. “You turned in 4 pucks, I only had one.” You remind him. He grumbles something before throwing some credits over to the shop keep, and turning to leave before you can finish scooping up your goods. “You better be pitching in for fuel.” He grunts out as you catch up to him.

“For a trip you would have made regardless if I came along?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.” He just shakes his helmet lightly, clearly frustrated with you. You continue on your way picking up supplies for the trip, there's three of you on one ship now, so you wanted to make sure you were prepared for anything.

---------

“You know mando’a?” He asks suddenly while you're silently browsing a weapons stall, and it completely catches you off guard. You feel yourself tense up at the question, but you hope it's nothing obvious.

“Bits and pieces,” You reply cooly, “As most who know it do. It’s a dying language after all.” You shrug, never turning to look at him as you lean forward and continue to look through the various blades and blasters laid out in front of you. You hope that will be the end of it, but he keeps going.

“Your alias,” He starts, but pauses. You figure he's trying to find the right way to ask you about it, “Interesting choice.” Is what he settles on. You can’t help but let out an amused huff.

“I didn’t pick it,” you confess lightly, and you look ever so slightly over your shoulder to see he's staring right at you, waiting for you to continue. You stand up straight from where you were inspecting the weapons table, “It was given to me. A sort of…” you hum lightly to yourself trying to think of the words to describe it, “A sort of pet name I guess.” You smile underneath your helmet at the memory and turn to leave the weapons stall, deciding against getting anything.

“Pet name?” he questions, and the baby starts to fuss in the pouch on his hip. He pulls Grogu out of it, carrying him in his armored arm. The baby coos lightly as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes. You turn and tap the baby’s nose causing him to giggle, your new favorite habit you can never seem to resist.

“Mhmm,” you finally reply with a nod. “Ner kih laar sennar…” You speak out wistfully looking out at the ashy sky above you, “My little song bird...that's what he used to call me.” You scoff at how ridiculous it sounds out loud in basic, kicking a stray pebble beneath your boot in embarrassment, but the smile under your helmet never fading. You remember the first time he said it to you, how it took your breath away. It sounded so beautiful in his native language, you craved to hear him say it everyday. “When I enlisted as an official guild member it was the only thing I could think of.” You can't help but let out a laugh, you remember it clear as day. Your guild contact had asked what you wanted to be registered under, and in your panic you just--blurted it out. You’ll never forget the way he turned to you in shock, or how relentlessly he teased you about it afterwards. You’ll never forget his confession, when he had admitted how he loved the way mando’a sounded coming from your lips, and how happy he was that was the name you chose for yourself. The name he gave to you.

You’re broken out of your thoughts and back to the present when the baby starts fussing again, whining and reaching out towards something. You turn your gaze toward what he's looking at, and it’s a large, seemingly handymade, frog toy. You immediately rush over to the stall, it's full of trinkets and miscellaneous items, but there were also a lot of things for children. You pick up the stuffed frog and hold it out to the baby in the mandalorians arms. He excitedly babbles and reaches to take it from you.

“You like this one, little bug? You think shiny here should get it for you?” you bounce the toy frog up and down in your hands as if you’re speaking through it and Grogu nearly shrieks with happiness, “yeah? I agree!” You nod and turn your visor to meet the mandalorian’s and you can tell he's annoyed with you. “Well? You heard the baby!” You scold, “Better hand over those credits quickly!” you turn back to the merchant after handing the toy to Grogu and pick out some other children's toys. A small bag of blocks, some wax coloring sticks, and a colorful rubber ball that fits perfectly in your palm. “These too please,” you show the items to the merchant, and start to put them in your bag before something else catches your eye, “ohh! And two of these!” You quickly grab a couple wrapped candy bars, one for you and one for the baby.

If you’re being honest with yourself you don’t really want one, but you know this is irritating him. The fact you are so willing to spend his credits for him without asking, you can feel him seething with anger behind you...and you live for it. You turn to face him, “oh! I’m so sorry…,” you tilt your helmet at him pretending to be sympathetic, sarcasm oozing from your modulated voice, “did you want one too?”

The beskar clad man says nothing, just threateningly towers over you while the baby happily coos in his arms. You can feel the absolute seething anger he’s exuding right now, and you're sure if you were anyone else, you would be terrified. Kriff, you probably should be terrified anyways, you’re about to be alone with this man on his ship for who knows how long, but he doesn't scare you. In fact, the threatening way his visor is burning a hole into yours just fuels you to keep going, “Make that three!” You nod to the merchant and grab another candy bar from the stall, before turning to leave and continue on your way. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you hear the shiny idiot curse under his breath before practically throwing the credits onto the merchants table and catching up to you.

“I’m not made of credits.” He hisses out at you.

“Oh, I know.” You nod in agreement. “But look how happy he is!” You motion to the baby who is absolutely thrilled playing with his brand new toy, a luxury he's been lacking for who knows how long now. “He’s worth every spare credit. Aren’t you, Bean?” You wiggle your pointer finger at him but he's too engrossed in his new plaything to notice.

Making it back to the ship, you take the baby from the mandalorian and make a head start to the cockpit while he hands over even more credits to the one who's just finished fueling up the ship. You can’t help but snicker to yourself at your own mischievous behavior as you settle into your seat with the baby in your lap. You really just did that. This man was still a complete stranger to you and yet you just practically spent all of his newfound credits for him. That’s definitely payback for the sudden babysitting job he threw at you on Corellia, you guess you can call it even for now. Besides, how can anyone deny this precious little guy anything? You grab the floppy arm of the frog toy and wave it at the excited baby in your arms.

The mandalorian eventually arrives back into the cockpit with the two of you, irritation still apparent by the way he not-so-subtly stomps his way to the pilots seat. He doesn’t say a word as he initiates takeoff, lifting the ship off the ground and making its way through the atmosphere.

“You’re paying the next time we fill up.” He grunts out as he warps the ship into hyperspace.

“Fair enough.” You nod, continuing to play with the baby in your lap, “I’ve had my fun.”

“Oh, that's what you consider fun?” He sounds far less than amused and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

“After what you pulled on me landing in Corellia? Oh yeah.” you nod again for emphasis.

“Trying to humiliate me in front of my bounty wasn’t enough?” He turns his seat to face you.

“Try to? Oh no, I definitely humiliated you.” you correct him, and you’re almost disappointed you still have your helmet on because he can’t see the sly grin proudly spread across your face. He just sighs and turns back towards the front of the ship. “Don’t worry though, I think we can call it even now.”

“Thank the maker.” The utter sarcasm and annoyance he has for you weighs heavy on his words, and more than anything, it only satisfies you further.

“Oh cheer up tin can! Here--,” You rifle through your go bag on the floor next to your seat and pull out the candy bars from earlier. You hold one out to him, “Here's yours.”

“Keep it.” He doesn’t even look at it. Was he really that mad at you?

“Suit yourself.” You shrug and tug off your helmet, tucking it next to you opposite of the baby. You open one and break it in half, giving one half to the baby, and wrapping the remaining half back in its wrapper. The last thing you need is to give this kid a sugar rush while you're stuck in hyperspace. You tuck it back in your bag, along with the one meant for the bitter loser next to you. You unwrap yours and take a bite when you realize--you haven’t seen the mandalorian eat once since you’ve been together. In fact, you haven't seen him take off his helmet at all. “When’s the last time you ate?” You take another bite.

“Last night. While you were sleeping.” While you were sleeping? Kriff this guy is weird.

“What? You don’t trust me enough to take your helmet off around me? We’re business partners now. I’m not going to kill you...not that the helmet would prevent me from doing so anyways.”

“I don’t trust you,” You’re about to make a snide comment back in response as you take another bite of your candy bar, but he cuts you off, “But that's not why.” He never breaks his gaze from the cockpit window. Now you're confused, what the hell does that mean?

“What's the reason then?” You question.

“My creed.” How he manages to answer your questions without actually explaining anything never ceases to piss you off.

“Your creed?” you try to emphasize the confusion in your tone, hoping he will actually explain something to you, but he just nods in response. “What creed?” Maker, he is so absolutely frustrating. You put the rest of your candy bar away, no longer interested.

“The way of the Mandalore.” You’re hoping he will keep going, but you should have known better by this point. You truly have no kriffing idea what he's talking about.

“What? So you won’t take your helmet off in front of me because you’re a mandalorian? That doesn't make sense. I knew a mandalorian, quite well mind you, and I’ve never heard of that before. He took off his helmet all the time.” This is only getting more and more confusing and his short responses are only making things worse.

“This is The Way.” He nods to himself as if he's making perfect sense. Only, he's not making any sense at all.

“Is this...creed...the same reason your friends back on Nevarro don’t know your name?” He nods again. You just stare at him, confusion lined all over your face. This is nothing like any mandalorian you knew. Not that you knew many of them. You knew mandalorians were held by a creed, but you’ve never heard of it being that intense. “So okay…,” you look around the cockpit trying to think of a way to ask more, “I’m sorry, please explain this to me, I don’t want to be disrespectful.” For some reason, that statement is the one he decides is worth looking at you for.

“To call myself a mandalorian, to wear the beskar, I took the creed as a child. Gave up my name, vowed to never show my face to anyone. A creed I must follow if I’m to continue to wear this armor, continue to be a mandalorian. It’s the reason I have to return the child to his kind. This is what it means to be a mandalorian, this is The Way.” He says every word like his soul rests in each of them. This is the most this mysterious man has ever spoken to you, and it’s with such a passion, such conviction.

You’re almost afraid to ask anymore questions. As much as you don’t like this guy, you have a lot of respect for how important this clearly is to him. You know mandalorians are big on tradition, and they each had a pretty strict code of honor, the Resol'nare. To stop following that code, to stop being a mandalorian for whatever reason was to lose your soul, “dar’manda” it was called. But this? This was on a whole other level.

“So...do--do all mandalorians take this...creed?” You try to ask carefully, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries you might not be aware of. This creed he took, it was clearly about secrecy, you weren’t sure if even asking about it might be going too far.

“I thought so…,” He looks back out the window pausing and taking a breath before continuing, “But I recently learned that wasn’t the case.” You nod in understanding, taking your gaze off him and instead to the helmet resting under your arm.

“Thank you...uh for explaining…” You’re trying to sound genuine but you’re pretty sure it just comes off awkward. He doesn’t say anything and you feel like the silence between the two of you is suffocating. You’re used to quiet, it doesn’t bother you usually, but this? This kind of quiet was different and you hated it. Not even the baby was making noise, He was slowly drifting off in your arms, and you’re almost tempted to rile him up again even if it's only to save you from the stifling silence. Almost.

“Your hunting partner,” His low modulated voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you would be thankful if it weren’t for the subject matter, “They’re the one that gave you your alias?”

You nod slowly, still peering at the helmet under your arm. “That who you got the armor from?”

“Yeah.” You nod again and you force a sad smile more at the helmet than the man speaking to you. Hunting partner...you could almost laugh. If only that's all he was to you, maybe it would hurt a whole lot less that he was gone.

The mandalorian finally looks at you again, “Were you...an item?” It’s his turn to struggle in the same way you did, trying to ask his questions without being disrespectful. This time you actually laugh, it barely comes out, but it's there.

“He was my husband.” You finally admit it to him, you aren’t sure why you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him. Maybe it's because of how vulnerable he was about his creed.

“Your husband was a mandalorian?” What a stupid question

“Yes, yes he was.” You gaze out the cockpit window at the smear of stars flying past you in hyperspace.

“That's why you keep the armor?” More stupid questions. Marker, this guy really was a dumbass. You left out a sad sigh.

“His armor is all I have left of him. I wear it to remember him, to honor him.” Your gaze meets the visor already staring at you. The stars reflecting strongly off the top of his helmet. “I will die before I let anyone take it from me. I’ll take this beskar to my grave...a creed of my own I guess.” You shift your gaze to the now sleeping baby in your arms and slowly, gently, stroke the top of his fuzzy head. You haven’t spoken about your late husband out loud in--maker, you don’t even know how long. It hurts. Your chest is aching, still just as painful as the day he left you. “He died a warrior's death. Just what every mandalorian hopes for I guess…” You can’t help but sound bitter. You sigh, “I was supposed to die with him,” You admit. You aren’t sure why you're still talking, it’s not like he asked you. Maybe it's been too long since you’ve spoken about him, you just can’t help yourself, “But he saved me.” You shake your head, and take a deep breath. “I don’t know why he did, I never got to ask, I never got the chance to even argue,” You scoff, “I wanted to die with him...but he saved me.”

The mandalorian next to you just continues to watch you as you pour your heart out. You wonder if he can tell how much it still hurts. How hard it is for you to talk about it, even after all this time. He doesn’t seem irritated, or bored, you can’t tell what he's thinking, but he's not stopping you, so you keep going.

“He was my whole life, my oathsworn, my riduur....” The mando’a doesn’t roll off your tongue in the same way it would when he said it, and maker, you wish more than anything you could hear him say it one more time. Hear him call you his Sen’ika, his cyare, mesh’la, anything. What you would give to hear him speak those sweet words to you again. “I was to stay by his side no matter where he went--and to me that meant even in death. I was prepared to follow him in death...but he took that from me, and next thing I knew I had to find a new life. I had nothing left…”

You look back up to the man sitting next to you, and you suddenly feel sick. You can’t believe you just unloaded all of that onto him. You don’t know this man, you barely met him, you don't even like him, in fact you very much dislike him. Yet here you were, pouring your heart out to him about your dead husband. You feel like there's a blade in your gut, slowly turning as it gets pushed farther in. You’re utterly embarrassed. “Sorry…” You mutter out, shifting your gaze to the cockpit floor. You can’t bear to look at him.

The mandalorian next to you doesn’t break his gaze from you. He must think you’re a fool, an utter fool, spilling your emotions onto the floor of his ship. Weak for letting your sadness sweep over you so easily. You figure he’ll never take you seriously now, throw it back in your face if you make a mistake.

“Thank you.” He nods his visor slowly once, “for explaining.” you never expected to hear your awkward words said back to you, but as awkward as they sounded coming from you, they sound so genuine coming from him. A man who barely speaks. You meet the gaze of his visor once again, before you try to play it cool, feeling way too vulnerable.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let a small smile creep over your face. Maybe this shiny beskar clad man wasn’t so bad afterall. He doesn’t say anything, and silence fills the cockpit once again, but this time it’s not unpleasant. No longer sifling, but comfortable instead.

“She by the way,” you break it, and you look to each other once again, “I’m a she.” You smile at him, “I know my helmet says otherwise, but I’m a she.” He stares at you way too long without saying anything. It starts getting awkward real fast, until he gives you a slight nod and returns his gaze to the cockpit window. What a strange guy. You lean back and get comfortable in your seat, gently stroking Grogu’s cheek while he sleeps in your arms as the three of you warp through hyperspace. ***

Previous - MASTER - Next

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic

43 notes · View notes

seven-oomen · 4 years

Text

Breaking the cycle | How Teen Wolf portrays its traumatized fathers

First of, I would like to say that the following words are my take on this. I am a 29 year old trans man of Caucasian descend who is an domestic violence and abuse survivor. I am diagnosed with ADHD since 12 and diagnosed with CPTSD since this year. I understand trauma and I understand what it does to people. But I am not a professional. I am a fan.

Secondly, the characters I’ll be talking about today are specifically the fathers of some of the main characters in Teen Wolf. Namely Chris Argent, Peter Hale, and Noah Stilinski.

I realize there are many more traumatized parents who would fit well in this essay and while I thought about including them, I decided that for now, these are the three characters I’m focusing on.

I would love to hear your thoughts about some of the other parents and how their traumatizing pasts might have contributed to the way they raised their children.

Sources are listed under the read more. The gifs I’m using are from Google.

I will be focusing on these characters, discuss what sort of trauma they have, how it affects them and how it affects the way they then raised their children. And why their stories are important for trauma and abuse survivors.

Let’s start with Noah Stilinski.

From Episode 3, Season 6 Sundowning we know the following about Noah’s homelife:

Elias was known for being both emotionally and physically abusive, and on at least one occasion, Noah stepped in to protect his mother from his abuse, causing his father to inadvertently throw him into a glass coffee table; his shoulder was scarred, and tiny fragments of glass remain under the now-healed wound even in the present day.

He even tells Scott: (While talking about a memory of him and Claudia in College.) “The kind of father I wish I had. The kind I... I hope to be."

In the same episode Noah also refers to the incident above as “That time.” Indicating that it wasn’t the first time this happened and it wasn’t the last either.

Piecing all the information together we can conclude that Noah was emotionally, psychologically, and physically abused by his father. We can also conclude that this abuse extended to his mother. Meaning he was also a victim of domestic violence.

There is also evidence in the episode that Elias might have abused Stiles, or at the very least has a very negative opinion of his grandson. “ That's right! Act like I'm not even here! Go crawling back to your dead wife and loser son!”

This scarred Noah, both physically and mentally. We see evidence of this in episodes where he reacts violently and explosively any time his son is hurt. He immediately blows up and threatens physical violence against the people who hurt his son.

A part of that is parental protection, but imagine that someone beat the living crap out of you and those you love every day of your life. Once you’re free of that person it leaves a mark and a smoldering fear of seeing the people around you getting hurt. When it happens you get angry, at the people who hurt your loved one, and at yourself. You weren’t there to protect them, you were too late.

Noah blames himself whenever Stiles gets hurt. I believe, based on his childhood home life that Noah corresponds his son getting hurt with failure as a parent. And knowing where he comes from, that’s an extra sore subject for him.

We have basis of it in canon.

We can also see that Noah’s guilt tends to eat at him if he ever has to discipline Stiles or yell at him. As shown in the following scene.

I believe that the abuse Noah endured makes him a very scared individual especially when it comes to raising his son. He’s constantly afraid he’s turning into his father, his afraid of making the same mistakes. He’s afraid he’ll scar and traumatize his own as he was traumatized himself.

The fact that Noah is aware of what he’s doing, that he stops when asked is enough of an indication to tell us, the audience, that he isn’t his father. Once Stiles indicates he’s okay, or simply tells his father to stop, Noah stops immediately. He usually hugs his son or initiates a kind physical contact right after.

He stops, he reflects, realizes his mistake, and tries to do better.

This is one way to break the cycle. Noah’s not perfect at it, we can see him struggle many times. He insults Stiles or his intelligence without meaning to, passing it off as a joke, he’s constantly working and is not around as much as he should be. And those are valid criticisms of this character.

But deep at his core Noah’s trying to break a cycle of physical and emotional abuse, he’s trying to be there for Stiles. Tells him to go to school, tries to keep an eye on Stiles and tries to talk to him whenever he has the chance to explore Stiles’s wellbeing and feelings.

This is a man who went through hell as a child, became a father, and decided to do better.

Noah is a character who effectively broke a viscous cycle and has a wonderful and strong relationship with his son as a result. It’s not without flaws and Noah’s not perfect. But he’s generally not abusive or an abuser. And that is a step in the right direction.

It also shows us, the audience, that no matter what home life you come from, you can arise above your own traumas and do better for the next generation.

Now Chris Argent is an interesting one. I already talked about Chris and trauma in my daddy’s little soldier meta.

Considering the type of person Gerard is, and how he treats several teenagers in the show. I believe Chris is also a victim of emotional, psychological, and physical abuse. We don’t know much about his home life with his mother, so that I can not speculate on.

What we do know is, Gerard has no qualms about hurting children and teenagers. He’s admitted that he would kill his own son if it meant he survived. He’s raised his own son to be a weapon and to compartmentalize his emotions. I shudder to think as to what methods Gerard must have used on Chris. But as we never see them, I can only speculate.

So how did Chris break his cycle of abuse?

By not raising Allison to be a hunter. For the first seventeen years of her life, Allison didn’t know the Supernatural existed. She was kept out of her father’s life until it was no longer possible. She was never raised as a soldier, she wasn’t raised to hide her feelings. If anything, her father encouraged her and nurtured her to the best of his abilities. Chris tried to be there for his daughter.

He even moved her to France to get her away from their lives. He quit something he was raised to do and did it successfully, just to protect his daughter. He grew up to be everything his father wasn’t.

And while Chris, too, is not perfect at it, he does try and breaks the cycle.

He’s aware of their problems, addresses them, and tries to do better. He even extends this nurturing and protective side to Isaac later down the line.

Chris, a victim of abuse, sees the signs of abuse in Isaac, and decides; this one, this one I will nurture and protect too. Which he eventually accomplishes by bringing him to France and away from the craziness that is Beacon Hills. (Would have been nice to get a good plot about Chris adopting Isaac, but well, that’s another rant.)

Chris, like Noah, shows that even if you were raised in the worst circumstances, by being aware of your trauma and how that affects others, you can break the cycle and come out on top.

And last but not least we have someone who went through an horrific event and possibly emotional abuse from his family, discovered he was a father, and then had to adjust.

I’m talking about Peter Hale.

Now Peter is not a morally good character in general. He has no qualms about killing people who get in his way. From what we know about his childhood Peter also had anger issues as a small child and often broke his toys.

However, the reason why I’m stating that Peter was most likely emotionally abused (I think by his sister Talia) is because we know that Talia, would not believe Peter about the fire and the Argents and waved his concerns away without considering them. She manipulated multiple of his memories and frequently hid the truth from him. And we know that their relationship from before the fire was strained.

We also know that Peter does care about his family. He cared for Cora in the hospital and he does care about whether Derek lives or dies and tends to keep an eye out for his nephew. In later seasons we also see Peter caring about his only daughter Malia and even express fear for her wellbeing when they go up against the Anuk-Ite.

His love for Malia is eventually what frees him from the Ghost Riders control and his wish for her to live is what motivates his decisions in Season 6 to try and keep her safe, and when he can’t keep her away from the fight, he joins her and tries to protect her.

Now I believe that the Peter we see in S1,2, 3 and S6B are the real Peter Hale. A traumatized man who believes his only way to stay alive is through manipulation and careful planning. But he does genuinely seem to care about a few people, Cora, Derek, and Malia.

In Season 1 Peter is still coming out of his traumatic event (being burned alive and then being in a coma) and he has to navigate a new world. He kills Laura (or so it is speculated) for her Alpha power and to heal himself. Because to Peter, he is the only one who can avenge his family and resolve the traumatic event he went through.

Revenge, of course, is generally not a good way to resolve trauma and the plan doesn’t work. His trauma is not resolved by killing Kate and he dies that night.

When Peter comes back practically powerless he has to navigate carefully and he does so through manipulating the people around him. To Peter, manipulation is the only way to stay alive and get ahead. This idea of his, had to come from somewhere.

This is where my theory of emotional abuse kicks in. Because if Peter was emotionally abused by his sister (for which there is evidence in canon), he most likely picked up his tactic of manipulation as a survival tactic.

Now out of the list. Peter is the only person who doesn’t fully rise above his past. The past still haunts him as he becomes a protector of Beacon Hills in S6B. But I firmly think that if we got to see more of Peter past this point, we would have seen a man starting his journey to recognizing his toxic traits and trying to do better by them. But that of course, is just speculation.

Peter’s story teaches us that the road to healing and becoming a better person isn’t always linear. It’s not a given that you’ll heal if you aren’t ready to accept it. Or if you’re so focused on getting revenge that healing is impossible, it’s also not going to work. And usually, trying to heal requires a positive presence in your life (Malia), a support system (Malia and the pack), and a willingness to recognize what you’re doing wrong and to better yourself moving forward.

Sources:

Breaking the Cycle of Child Abuse - Article written by a psychologist and peer reviewed by a psychiatrist

The cycles of violence - Article written for the WHO by the University of Birmingham

The Teen Wolf Wiki - for all information and episodes of these characters

Teen Wolf - MTV tv show that owns the characters.

#chris argent #noah stilinski #peter hale #teen wolf meta #teen wolf #meta #long post #trauma #healing #breaking the cycle

122 notes · View notes

ojcobsessed · 3 years

Photo

oliver jackson-cohen for flaunt magazine, by jessica romoff, july 2019

***

The first horror movie I ever saw was The Exorcist on my grandmother’s RCA console TV, midnight on Christmas Eve. My grandmother is a Catholic Portuguese woman who was devout to cross stitching and Jesus Christ, resulting in crucifixes nailed into every wall of the living room. So, as every flash and jolt from the TV screen would animate the tortured figurines with chilling white light, I prepared in panic and thrill for each one to flip upside down.

Not only did this movie ignite my passionate love for horror, but actor Oliver Jackson Cohen’s passion as well. Mine lead me to accumulating random 70’s slasher movie memorabilia and sporadic nightmares, while Cohen’s lead him to eventually being the star of hit Netflix horror miniseries The Haunting of Hill House as his character Luke Crain, with a few nightmares as well. The 10 episode show is a modern reimagining of Shirley Jackson’s novel “Hill House” and follows the Crain family during the summer they lived in the haunted home, and flashes forward on their lives decades after the tragic events.

During a phone interview with him, I learned Cohen is much more than just a dedicated actor with a jawline that can cut glass; Cohen is a whirlpool of empathy, an artist who gushes his heart into everything he does, and demands that his character Luke, and those battling with similar struggles, are portrayed more than just their addiction.

With your role in last season, I was really impressed by how you portrayed a character with drug addiction, and how you refrained from making him a stereotypical, one dimensional person - and I was wondering how you avoided leaning on this cliche when approaching Luke?

Thank you, number one, I think we all have seen drug addicts portrayed in movies and tv shows before. Most of the time, they are always portrayed as their addiction, and I don’t think that’s very true for anyone who knows anyone who has substance abuse problems; there is actually a fucking person there. So it was very clear from the get-go that I had a responsibility to present a fully formed human being, and they actually brought in a specific writer to write Luke’s character- who was a heroin addict in recovery. I said to Mike, the director and creator of the show - before we even started that it’s very important that Luke is the sum of all his parts and is not just his addiction. So I think that the way I approached it, is that when I first began doing all the research and the pre-work before we started filming, I started looking at documentaries, because I had never done heroin before, so I thought, Oh I’ll start looking at documentaries - but then I realized quite early on that that was putting a judgement on him. And I don’t think it’s fair - because behind anyone who has fallen into this trap is someone who is deeply struggling. And I felt it - I felt a huge amount of, not pressure, but a need to show the person behind the addiction and show the person who is actually struggling, and why he had become an addict. So I focused on that - so I spent no time whatsoever seeing Lucas as a drug addict; I saw him as someone who was struggling to come to terms with everything that he had experienced and happened in his life. And so I focused on anyone who is trying to numb themselves, that know they’re running away from something. So I built up the terror of that, instead of focusing on “I need my fix.”

Was there something that happened in your own life, that was out of your control and not your fault, but regardless someone judged you because of that - perhaps driving your connection to Luke’s character?

Oh 100 percent, and that’s what is so interesting, because I don’t have a substance abuse problem - but I think that out of all the characters I have ever played in the past 10 years, there’s the most of me in Luke. Like, all of that stuff of just trying to function, and the vulnerability, and just trying to be normal, and being so ashamed - all of that is my own shit, and so [laughs] I didn’t need to be a heroin addict to understand the pain that he was going through, so, so much. I think it’s incredible getting to play someone like that because, in a weird way it felt like therapy - I was able to go to work everyday and just be all the parts of myself. I think it’s interesting as well for men, there’s this whole thing about having to be a certain way, having to always be strong, and I think inherently a lot of people do feel incredibly fragile. So all of that stuff of Luke is me, and my stuff, and I didn’t have to pretend - I just got to go to work and be as vulnerable as I feel. You know we all have incredibly complicated lives and incredibly complicated upbringings, and I used all of my stuff: I was diagnosed with PTSD a couple of years ago so all of that is in there with Luke - and it felt incredibly cathartic to be able to kind of put it all out there and be there.

When your work is something that is so emotionally rigorous, and strenuous, it must be very draining dedicating yourself to a character who is really struggling his whole life - How do you unwind and decompress from this intensity?

[Laughs] I….you know what, I’m not very good at it. I feel like I’m one of those people, I’m sort of with the school of thought that you either go to work and you fucking do it - and you do it for real, or go home. I’m not into this whole I’ll just pretend! thing, so it’s probably not the healthiest way of working. But I feel it’s necessary, and then I don’t know how to handle it. There were a couple of days on set where specifically we were filming all of Luke’s episodes or the stuff where he’s sort of roaming the streets - that got way too intense. We would rap at 6 am and I would go back to my house and sleep for a bit, and then wake up and just be so out of sorts: I would have to call people at home to reassure me that everything was okay.

I imagine the intensity can be overwhelming

Yeah, I mean, it sounds really wonky - but I think that when you’re messing around with stuff like that, and you’re tricking your brain into thinking something is real, and then on top of that you’re drawing from your own personal well of shit that probably should be kept untouched - it’s gonna be messy at times. So yeah, it gets… it did get a little hairy. But again I felt that it was important - and I think all of us across the board in the cast felt that it was so important to do that - to give Luke a voice. And what’s been so interesting when the show came out, it was so overwhelming, the response, specifically from people that have struggled with addiction. And it was so warming to hear these stories from people, so I think it was necessary for all of us as actors to go to those dark parts of ourselves, and put that out on screen.

Is there something that you wish you knew before you began acting in a horror TV series? Or about a TV series with intense family drama with horror influence?

Hm..I don’t know. Just… it’s all good. [laughs] it’s gonna be all good.

Honestly, that’s pretty solid universal advice. And I was wondering, are you a fan of horror in general?

Yes! Huge

And is this a genre that you want to continue with?

Yes, I had never done anything horror before, so this was a dream. I remember I watched The Exorcist when I was like eight or something, and it completely terrified me - and I still to this day have nightmares about it. I think what’s so clever about horror, and I think specifically with what Mike has done on our show, it becomes a metaphor for something else. So specifically with Hill House, if you take away the house and all the ghosts and all the horror elements, it’s about childhood trauma. So you can swap out what all those kids went through, the horror they experienced, can be swaped out for sexual abuse, or physical abuse, or anything like that. So you manage to kind of navigate all of these horrific things we kind of don’t want to look at, in the veil of ghosts, so it becomes palatable for an audience. I never knew this, Netflix told me this, that horror is the most watched genre in the whole world.

Really!?

Across the board, yeah! I thought it would be comedy. But that’s why Netflix made the show. Because they realized that actually there was such a massive market for horror. So yeah, a really long winded answer to your short question - yes I was a fan of horror, I always have been.

Me too! I’ve never thought about how horror can be a metaphor for trauma. That’s so fascinating. Just one last question - I know that you can’t say too much about the second season… right? Or they’ll shoot you.

Right [laughs]

So, see if you can answer this: if Season 1 and Season 2 were mythical creatures, what would they be?

[Laughs] What would they be… ahhh...I genuinely don’t know how to answer that question. They’re both just beasts from the darkest corners of our minds. Season 1…. Uh… what I can say - is that season 1 I believe was amazing, and with what they’re doing with season 2 is even…. More incredible.

#oliver jackson cohen #oliver jackson-cohen #peter quint #luke crain #haunting of bly manor #haunting of hill house #2019 #tw: childhood trauma #ptsd

98 notes · View notes

wille-zarr · 4 years

Text

The Mandalorian: “We Have a Deal”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter One ~ “We Have a Deal”

masterlist / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated T for violence; reference to mild injuries; death; mild swearing; mentions of hunger

word count: 4.1k

summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: first, i must thank my amazing beta readers @sana-katarn @disneyjedi19 @barrissoffee77 for their fantastic feedback and for cheering me on throughout this whole process. secondly, i must thank @kaminobiwan @royalhandmaidens @fancycheesebread @arda-ancalima @babyomen @highlycommendable for their kind comments and enthusiasm towards this story. i can’t thank you all enough. i can’t even put into words just how much it means to me. i love you all very much, and i am so excited to begin the adventure that is in fields of white.

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter One: “We Have a Deal”

Reflecting upon the events of your life, you decide you must be either the luckiest or most cursed person in the galaxy.

Current events have you leaning towards the latter.

With a frustrated grunt, you squint your eyes against the dust billowing down the street. Reaching up to your hat, you lower a pair of goggles to rest securely around your eyes. You mutter curses when you feel sand rattling around in the lenses, trapped inside by the whipping wind.

You slightly lift the scarf pressed against your mouth and spit, ridding your mouth of the dust turning to mud. At this point, six weeks into your miserable residence on the tiny planet of Taek, you must have consumed enough dust and dirt to birth a new desert planet.

Grumbling complaints to yourself, you tighten the scarf around your face as you stalk down the street, avoiding eye contact with anyone or anything for too long. You learned that lesson the first week on Taek after a tussle with a Twi’lek.

In your defense, you were only trying to be friendly, but, apparently, Taek didn’t have much in the way of locals, only smugglers and pirates looking for a quick refuel and refresh. Prolonged eye contact and a friendly “hello” with those kinds sometimes didn’t end too terribly well. The fading bite mark on your arm proved as much.

Hoping to rid yourself of the dust that seemed to penetrate everything this dirtball had to offer, you slip in between two buildings, allowing yourself a reprieve from the sandstorm whipping down the street. You loosen your scarf, shaking your head as sand pours from it like a waterfall.

“Damn it,” you grumble. “I shouldn’t be hungry after all the sand I’ve swallowed.” You spit more dirt out of your mouth as if to prove your point.

Satisfied that you’ve ridded yourself of as much dirt as possibly achievable on a planet full of dirt, you turn your attention back towards assessing Taek’s current batch of inhabitants.

Taek’s only starport held a different crowd of creatures every couple of days. Outside of the few storekeepers, cantina-owners, and brothels, you are convinced Taek holds no permanent residents.

You cross your arms and lean against the corner of the building. “One mean-looking squid-man,” you mumble under your breath as you take tally. “A Twi’lek, looks like a smuggler…. Rodian...”

A bright flash of light from down the street pulls your eyes in that direction. Letting your arms fall to the side, you squint, making out an armored figure striding down the street, reflecting bright sunlight even through the dust caking the air.

A Mandalorian.

With a sharp inhale of breath, you jerk backwards into the alley. “No, no, no!” you hiss to yourself.

You’d seen and avoided other bounty hunters on Taek, but this was a Mandalorian bounty hunter.

You’d heard stories about Mandalorian hunters.

If he was looking for you…

Your stomach tightens with more than just hunger.

Stars.

You are dead.

Forcing your breath to even itself out, you scold yourself for the unreasonable panic.

“It’s going to be okay; I’m safe,” you mentally repeat your well-worn mantra. You pause, scowling.

A new mantra might be in order at this point in your life.

You peer back around the corner of the building, torn between wanting to observe the actions of the Mandalorian or bolting as far away as possible. With a deep breath, you choose the former, and also possibly the dumbest, option. Releasing an anxious sigh, you lower the goggles onto your face and tighten the scarf back across your mouth.

You move forward, mingling with the faces of others who, like you, wish to escape a named existence. You push against the crowds of people, eyes sweeping back and forth for any sign of the sun-reflecting armor.

Panic slowly begins to creep back in when, after several minutes of searching, you can find no sign of the Mandalorian.

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach that, in this game of tooka-cat and nuna, you might just be the nuna after all.

After an eternity swimming through a faceless crowd, your eyes latch onto gleaming metal again. You grin underneath your scarf, and your grin only widens when you see the cantina he chooses to go inside.

The Tiny Whomp Rat Cantina is one of the few establishments where you have managed to make connections with a few of the bartenders. When you are having an unusually lucky day, one of the friendlier bartenders would provide some extra work for credits or a bit of extra food.

You position yourself across the street, hoping you looked as ordinary as whatever’s considered ordinary on Taek. You shake your head with a groan. Inhaling dust all day and the lack of food is beginning to mess with your head. You suppose that might explain why you are currently stalking a Mandalorian instead of getting the hell out of sight.

You let your legs give way as you slowly sink down to the ground, leaning against the wall of a building for support. You feel and look pathetic- the perfect disguise.

Frustration presses in your chest after an hour passes with no sign of the Mandalorian leaving the cantina. At this point, you’ve called the Mandalorian every curse word under the sun, and even invented a few new ones for him. To top it off, dusk is falling, and it is beginning to grow chilly, only flaming your irritability further.

Stupid tin-head.

Son of a Hutt.

Shavit brain.

Kriffin metal man.

Damn it! You are too impulsive and impatient for this. You grumble new complaints under your breath as you rip your scarf down and roughly rub your face. If the hunter is searching for you, he isn’t doing a very good job so far.

Oh, what the hell.

You’re going inside.

You stand, pausing a moment to let the blood rush back into your legs. You hesitate only a split second before stalking across the street and creeping through the cantina doors.

You can hear your grandfather’s voice now.

“Child, did you think at all before you chose to act?”

“Yes, actually, I did this time. But probably for not long enough."

Your grandfather is still spitting truths at you even in death.

Shuffling forward, you crinkle your nose at the wall of smell that smacks you in the face as you move inside. You hate this place. It smells like a rotting Hutt eating a decomposing Kowakian monkey-lizard whilst basking in the swamp gasses of Nal Hutta.

Not that you probably smell any better at this point, but still.

The only thing you are grateful for is the fact that the lack of light inside the dingy cantina provided excellent concealment.

Daring not to glance around too much and draw attention to yourself, you stalk straight towards the bar, very grateful to see it’s your friend, a grey-haired elderly man named Irea, working this evening. He looks up and actually smiles at you. It took three weeks to get that smile out of him, and so you return it eagerly. His is the only smile you’ve seen in weeks.

“Hey, kid.” He picks up a glass and begins drying it with a stained rag. “I’m afraid I don’t have any work for you today.” He sighs. “The boss is cracking down, and I-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt with a raised hand. You slip into a bar stool and lean forward, eyes darting around. You don’t see the Mandalorian anywhere.

You lower your eyes, clenching your hands tightly together on the bar in front of you. “I haven’t come here about that.”

Irea tucks his rag into his back pocket and places a hand on the bar beside you, leaning forward with his body, blocking your conversation from the prying eyes of customers.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing… I mean, I-” You pause and take a shaky breath. Your eyes lift up to meet his own. “I need to ask you about one of your customers.” Your voice drops so low that even you struggled to hear what you had to say. You dart your eyes around again, still not spying the Mandalorian anywhere. You can’t help but fear at any given moment he will jump at you from behind.

“Oh?” the old bartender prods.

You tense, scared to even breath the words. “The Mandalorian. He came in here, right?”

Irea nods slowly. “He’s in one of the back booths,” he whispers, tilting his head towards the rear of the cantina.

You can’t see the back booths from your current vantage point, but your teeth clench knowing you are in such close proximity to the Mandalorian. Too close. You instinctively pull your hat down to sit lower on your face.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss. “Do you know?”

Irea’s eyes shoot around the room. Once he is satisfied there is no one close enough to eavesdrop, he continues, “He’s talking with some strangers I’ve not seen before.” A mischievous expression inches across his face. “But I may have overheard a bit of their conversation, accidentally, mind you.” He points a finger at you with a wink.

You flash him a bright grin. “Of course, of course. Accidentally.”

The old bartender motions for you to move closer towards the wall, so you slip off the barstool and move along with him. He leans in closer to your face. “The Mandalorian is trying to discover the location of Marek’s basecamp.”

You suck air through your teeth with a sharp hiss. “No way.” You shake your head. “Good luck finding that out from anyone.”

He chuckles. “I’m certainly not going to tell him.”

You laugh along with him. “Me neither. Stars!”

Another lesson you learned about this region within the first week of your stay: it’s probably a good idea to avoid associating with Marek and his smuggling ring cronies.

Of course, you learned this after you had already “visited” said basecamp. What can you say? You have a knack for learning lessons the hard way.

But, thank the Maker, the Mandalorian is not searching for you. You feel the tension drain from your shoulders as this realization sinks in.

“Stars, if I had any money, I’d buy a drink right about now,” you chuckle dryly, tucking your chin underneath the ragged scarf draped around your neck. Irea’s eyes soften, and he pats you knowingly on the shoulder.

You smile up at him and crinkle your nose. “Well, thanks anyway,” you sigh, shifting to stand up.

A heavy thud of metal launches you back into your seat.

Oh hell!

Hell!

Kriffin’ hell!

All the air shoots from your lungs as you stupidly gawk up at the Mandalorian. He leans against the bar, mere feet away from you.

“For my tab,” the Mandalorian rasps through his helmet’s vocoder, sliding credits towards the old bartender. The Mandalorian pulls away, not sparing one glance at you before sweeping out of the cantina.

You clasp your hands over your eyes, letting out a sharp breath.

“Stars,” you mumble. All of that stress and worry, and the Mandalorian hadn’t even looked at you. If you weren’t so relieved, you might would feel insulted.

Irea chuckles. “It’s getting late, kid.”

You nod your head, understanding the meaning behind his careful words. After dark, the streets of Taek were not a place not fit for those wishing to avoid trouble.

And seeing as how you possess no weapon, you care very much to avoid the night. You move to stand up again when Irea discretely slides a small package under your hand.

“It’s all I can spare without the owner noticing,” he hisses. “You didn’t get it from me.” He spins on his heel, turning his attention back to drying dishes.

Tears burn in the corner of your eyes, and you squeeze the bag of scraps to your thigh.

You are too kind for this place.

-------

You make your way down the street, grateful that the air has finally cleared itself of the rolling dust clouds. It’s uplifting to walk and breath in clear air, something you never thought you’d take for granted. A wave of stench hits your nostrils from the direction of a junkpile, and you almost gag.

Well, it’s mostly clear air, anyway.

As you continue on your way back to your home camp, you stop by a few of the mechanic shops to ask if they have any work available. You are met with the usual: no work. Taek is pretty small, and the local staff of mechanics keep things taken care of, leaving little work to freelancers like yourself.

Which is probably for the best.

You make a terrible mechanic.

Ignoring your mounting frustration towards life, you make sure to stop and search a few garbage dumpsters located behind some cantinas for anything you can hoard.

Again, no luck.

The food Irea slipped you will have to do for now.

You are so tired of this.

You numbly weave your way through the dark labyrinth of alleys, stars already beginning to twinkle in the sky, instinctively following the path you have traversed every morning and evening for the past six weeks.

As you near the spot where you’ve been sleeping at night, you blood rushes ice cold at a distressed, high-pitched scream echoing from one of the nearby alleys.

You cringe, cover your ears, and keep walking.

You know you have to keep moving; ignore everything you might hear. No one investigated screams at night on Taek. Not unless they were heavily armed and ready to throw down, which you most certainly aren’t. But after another shrill cry rises in the air, your twisting heart won’t allow your feet to keep moving away.

You let out a groan and follow the length of an alleyway before the voices are just around the corner. You cautiously move forward, crouching behind a crate. You peer above it, grimacing when you spy two Zabrak women pressed against the wall of a building. You recognize them from one of the merchant stores in town. They are rapidly speaking in their native language, cowering in terror. You do not recognize the two males, one Rodian and the other a species you had no name for.

But he was tall, really tall.

This... probably won't end well.

The Rodian’s hand shoots out and grabs one of the Zabrak’s arms, sending her into screaming hysterics.

“Wait!” you shriek, jumping up from behind the crate more as an involuntary reaction to the Zabrak’s screams than a conscious decision. “Stop!”

The Rodian actually drops the Zabrak’s arm, in complete shock at your sudden appearance. He and his partner take a few steps towards you, speaking a language you have no name for.

But their body language didn’t exactly scream “friendly”.

You shake your head, eyes narrowing.

Stars, this was not planned.

You have one option.

“Run!” you shriek at the Zabraks, not sticking around to see if they take advantage of your distraction. You scramble over a crate and fly down corridors as fast as your feet can take you. You know these alleys well, just about the only advantage to being marooned for six weeks on Taek. You take a few confusing twists and turns before diving behind a barrier wall, panting heavily. You clutch your side, pain stabbing it from your sudden burst of adrenaline.

“Stars, the things I get mixed up in,” you groan inwardly.

Just when you start to think you might be free, you hear the men’s yells echoing from one alleyway over.

Damn! They both followed you.

You let out a short growl and clench your teeth, pushing away from the wall and zooming towards the location of your home camp. If you can get there unseen, you could hunker down for a few days and stay hidden until the pirates, smugglers, whatever, leave the planet.

You turn the corner, hope building in your chest, and run full-speed into the courtyard- straight into the Rodian.

You shriek and stumble backwards, right into the tall alien’s legs. His hands tighten hard around your upper arms. You yelp at the pain and uselessly try to pull away. The Rodian moves forward laughing and saying things to you in his native language.

“Let me go, you filthy…. disgusting… bug!” You kick as hard as you can, trying to make contact with the tall alien’s legs, but he only laughs and lifts you up in the air by your arms. The oxygen whooshes out of your lungs as your feet dangle a good three or four feet in the air.

“Ahg!” you cry. “Listen! I- I… urg, no hard feelings! I’m…. a mechanic! I…. offer services… free!”

Both men burst into laughter, but you remain dangling in the air.

“Put her down.”

You jerk your head sideways. Standing against a wall, almost nonchalantly, is your Mandalorian. Your mouth gapes open in utter disbelief.

“I said,” he takes one step forward, “down… Now.”

You catch the shine of a weapon pointed directly at the tall alien.

Holy kriff.

The tall alien harshly hurls you to the ground. You hit dirt hard with a cry and cover your head instinctively. You have no time to process anything before-

BLAST. BLAST.

The stench of burned flesh immediately permeates your nose. You crack open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with the smoking remains of your Rodian friend.

“Bloody seven hells!” you yelp, stumbling up to your feet. You gawk down at the two bodies, mouth still gaped open. Your senses flood back to you all at once. Your eyes shoot up in the direction of where the Mandalorian had just been standing. All you can see is the gleam from the back of his helmet as he retreats from the courtyard.

“Wait!” you cry, freezing him mid-stride. He does not turn around, but you see him tilt his helmet slightly to the side at your voice.

You pause, your heart pumping so hard from adrenaline that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

Maybe it was that same adrenaline or your heightened emotions, but the words that spill out of your mouth surprise even you.

"I know what you're looking for."

He hadn’t been expecting that.

The Mandalorian slowly, silently turns in your direction. His dark visor bores straight into you, not at all unlike a falcon considering if you are worth making prey.

You mentally hiss at yourself, lamenting your impulsion.

Oh, what the hell.

Too late now.

The Mandalorian continues staring at you in laden silence. You take this as an indication to continue. You hide your shaking hands in the pockets of your pants and take a few steps forward, as close as you dared to someone so threatening and who just killed two men now laying at your feet.

“You’re looking for Marek’s base.” You pause, testing the words. The Mandalorian makes no noise nor shows any indication that you are correct.

Silently berating yourself and your horrible decision-making skills, you open your mouth to continue. “Nobody here will help you. Nobody who knows where it’s located.” You pause again and flex your fingers nervously. “They’re… too intimidated.”

This time you let the silence sit, heavy and dense between the two of you.

After what feels like an eternity, the Mandalorian tilts his visor to the side. “And?”

With a deep breath, you throw your shoulders back, taking on the presence of someone much older, experienced, and confident. “I can take you there.” Pause. “You have to go on foot. A ship or speeder would trip the sensors.” Pause. “And you can’t get there without my help.”

Thick silence hangs in the air. You fear he might burn you right where you stand with just his damn gaze. Abruptly, the Mandalorian shifts to place a hand on his holster. You shallow hard at the motion, though you suspect it’s an involuntary mannerism of his.

“Fine… how much?” his voice rasps.

You shake your head. “No credits.”

His hand drops from the holster at that.

“What then?”

You take a second to consider your words. This could turn out to be another scheme that fails horribly, but at this point, it is all the hope you have left. You had to throw your trust to something.

“I- I need transportation off this rock.” You can’t help the edge of desperation your voice takes on. “As close to Keolith as you believe is a… fair exchange.”

The Mandalorian remains silent a few seconds longer than you are comfortable with.

“Why transportation?” his gruff, modulated voice slices through the silence. “Credits just as easily pays for transportation.”

You shake your head. “There’s no public transportation here. Even if I had the credits, I'd have to trust a stranger found in a dingy cantina.” You let a small smile inch onto your face. “And considering my limited experiences here,” you motion towards the smoking bodies, “I really don’t want to do that.”

You hear the Mandalorian grunt, your heart leaping that you might actually be getting somewhere with him. You take a few steps closer towards the Mandalorian. “Plus, I can work! I’m a… mechanic.” You bite your tongue at this. You... probably should not claim that as a benefit to having you on-board.

Your shoulders sink, losing a bit of their straightness. “I’m… I just have to get out of this place,” you finally say, your voice sounding very small and very unlike you. You stare the Mandalorian down, refusing to shift your eyes away despite the discomfort bubbling in your chest.

The Mandalorian is the one to break the gaze, and he looks down at the ground with a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He lifts his head back up. “We have a deal.”

Your eyes flutter in shock. “Whu-?” Quickly masking your surprise, you nod sharply. You straighten back up, taking on the persona of confidence again. “Excellent… We have a deal then.” You can’t help but flash a toothy grin at the Mandalorian.

You close the rest of the distance between the two of you and reach out a hand. “In my culture, we shake on deals,” you explain when the Mandalorian stares down at your open hand.

You hear him release a puff of air through his vocoder, but he carefully places his hand in yours- a solid, firm grip, and you flash an impish smirk up at him.

The dark, emotionless visor stares back down.

You are first to pull your hand away and cross your arms. “It would be best to head out in the morning. It’s about a whole day’s walk. We can meet here at dawn?”

The Mandalorian nods in agreement. “Fine.” His helmet then turns to look at something somewhere behind you.

You follow his line of sight, eyes moving around the courtyard, pausing when you see the bodies of the men still laying on the ground. You chuckle cynically at the sight. Even after the sounds of blaster fire, no one dared come see about it until morning.

“Where do you live?” his raspy voice interrupts your dark humor. “I can… escort you there.”

At that, you let out a dry chuckle. Your smile saddens when he tilts his head at your response.

“Sure.” You keep your arms crossed as you meander through the courtyard and past the bodies lying dead on the ground. You turn and look up at the Mandalorian who is trailing slowly behind you.

“I’m kind of… already home.” You drop to your knees and pry away a loosened board underneath decking beside a set of stairs. You squirm through the tight opening, twisting around to peer back up at the Mandalorian towering over you.

“See you tomorrow, Mandalorian.” You pause. “Oh, and… thanks for, you know, killing them.” You nod in the direction of the corpses.

With a loud thud, you pull the board back closed, entombing yourself under the decking you call home. You start to crawl further underneath when you hesitate, observing the Mandalorian through the cracks between the boards. He is staring directly at the panel you had just replaced. You almost think he starts to move forward.

But he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving only you and two dead bodies for company in the courtyard.

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

masterlist / next chapter

a/n: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of In Fields of White! Please feel free to review/comment on here or Ao3 letting me know what you think! :D

Message me if you would like to be added to the tag list for In Fields of White. Let’s just say I have some surprises up my sleeve with this story! Also, it should be noted that this will most certainly be a slowburn story BECAUSE WE STAN SLOWBURN STORIES.

346 notes · View notes

brywrites · 4 years

Text

Flight Risk VII

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part V: In which there are some distances that must be maintained and others that are simply begging to be crossed.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous | Next )

--------

Something is off. She can tell by the way Spencer sits alone, looking so focused on a book that it’s clear he’s not actually paying attention to it. He’s trying to give the impression he’s busy. He doesn’t want to be bothered. There is a tension he carries, and she notices that JJ carries it too. They wait on opposite ends of the hangar. When it’s time to board, she peeks out from the cockpit and notices they’re sitting on opposite ends of the plane. JJ is curled up in a blanket, staring blankly out the window. Spencer stares down at the book he’s clearly not reading.

Y/N wishes she could lighten the burden the same way a plane suddenly seems weightless at the moment of liftoff. This large thing speeding down a runway is propelled into the air and lift and thrust make physics feel like magic. There’s a strong bout of turbulence over the Great Plains, and she and Arthur have to focus on keeping Geff as steady as possible. In a smaller jet like this, an air pocket can feel so much rougher than it would on a commercial liner. One they navigate through it, it’s smooth sailing. The sun is setting behind them as they travel through time zones back to the east coast. The sky around them turns from orange to pink to violet. The stars begin to appear, blinking their salutations.

As they get closer to the airfield, she calls out over the radio. “This is niner-two-two Foxtrot Bravo, checking in, requesting clearance to land at Quantico base.”

“Foxtrot Bravo, enter the holding pattern at Quantico base, while runway is cleared maintain seven thousand feet,” replies a controller.

“Foxtrot Bravo, roger, hold at Quantico. Maintain seven thousand feet,” she echoes back. Together she and Arthur adjust the instruments, setting the proper altitude and speed, and reset the Chronometer. There’s a few planes in the queue ahead of them, and they enter the holding pattern, circling slowly around the sky. So close to home.

She asks, “Do you think something’s wrong?”

“At the base?” Arthur asks. He begins to initiate their first left turn. “Holding patterns are quite standard.”

“No, I mean with the team,” she says. “I don’t know something just seems… off. It’s unusual.”

“Y/L/N. It’s not our job.” They’re not profilers. Their concerns are with the navigation instruments and smooth landings and weather conditions. Not the behavior of people around them. “I need you present when we’re flying. Not worrying about whatever horrors they’ve seen on a case.”

She nods. “Sorry, sir.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I know you care. And I know you’ve found friends with them. But I’ve told you before – they don’t let people in. And it’s best if we try not to get involved.”

The controller cuts in before she can reply. “Foxtrot Bravo, cleared to land, runway Romeo seven.”

“Cleared to land, runway Romeo seven, Foxtrot Bravo,” she says. She can be present. She can be here, in this seat, doing what she loves. And that can be enough, can’t it? She can ignore the text from Penelope Garcia inviting her to join her and the female agents for a drink this weekend. She can stop finding reasons to spend more time with Spencer than she needs to. She can be objective.

Arthur addresses the agents they’re supposed to stay away from. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve just been cleared to land at Quantico base. Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened and all personal items are stowed away.” His voice reaching to another part of the plane, another world.

On final approach, they guide Geff back down to the ground, a beautifully smooth landing.

“Welcome back to Quantico, Virginia,” Arthur says into the speaker. “Local time is 7:15 PM and the temperature is thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Please wait until we have parked at the gate to move about the cabin. And as always, please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as items may have shifted during the flight.”

She and Arthur sit in the cockpit, the sound of agents shuffling out down the stairs muffled behind them. “You know,” he says, “Malik wants to have a dinner party soon. Maybe next weekend you and Martin could come over. He could bring Theresa and the baby. It might be nice, to spend some time altogether.” Their little misfit crew of pilots.

She’s not sure if it’s his way of apologizing for earlier, or perhaps a way to remind her of her own team and duties, but she says, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

They collect their own go-bags and descend the stairs. When the door has been closed once more and they turn the corner to leave, she’s startled by the familiar figure waiting by the hangar lockers. He’s busying himself with staring at the walls around him, but when he hears them, he lifts his head and looks right at her. As if asking permission.

Y/N glances at Arthur, who just sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then,” he says. “I think it’s too late when it comes to this one.”

With his blessing, she walks over to Spencer. “Hey,” she says. “Is everything okay?” Though if it were, he wouldn’t be standing here.

“Um… not – not really. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But would you mind giving me a ride home? I’ll order us takeout to make up for it. I uh, – I was hoping that maybe we could talk. If that’s okay?” He adjusts the strap of his messenger bag. “I just need someone to talk to right now, and I really want it to be you.”

How can she say no to that? “I’ll grab my car from the lot. Should I meet you outside of the Bureau building?”

“Yeah. That’d be great. There’s something I have to finish first.”

Soon enough she’s parked under the awning of the Academy entrance, waiting for him. She starts the engine up when she spots him coming out of the double doors, pulling his coat a little tighter against the chill of the winter air. His eyes trail curiously over her car before he opens the door to get in. It occurs to her that he’s never seen her car before.

“What?” she asks. “Is this not what you were expecting?”

“I guess after your conversation with Garcia I was expecting your taste to be… more flashy?”

Y/N laughs. Her blue Prius is far from flashy. “Well, as much as I’d love to drive a Plymouth Fury or a vintage Ferrari, I thought I should get something that’s a bit more kind to the environment if I’m burning jet fuel all day, and a Prius is a decent hybrid. Not to mention, it’s got a great safety rating. Do you know how much more dangerous it is to fly than it is to drive?”

“On average, it’s about nineteen times more dangerous. The odds of dying as a result of a car accident in the United States are roughly 1 in 114, but the odds of dying in an aviation accident is closer to 1 in 9,821. You’re far more likely to die from choking on food than in a plane crash.”

“Of course you know that.” She grins at him, letting him know that she’s not making fun of him. She’s impressed by him. She always is. “I don’t know why I bother asking at this point.” The smile he offers in return is only half-hearted. The drive into the District is quiet. Given the tension she felt earlier, she decides not to push him for conversation. Yeeqin is away visiting her sister for the weekend so she offers to take them back to her apartment. He calls to order takeout to be delivered from the Indian place around the corner. They arrive at her place only moments before the food does, fortuitous timing.

It feels strangely intimate to invite him in. She’s been to his apartment twice for their LOST marathon, but this is the first time he’s seeing her space. She wonders what it looks like through his eyes, what a profiler can discern about her life from the books on the coffee table and the pictures on the walls. They sit at the tiny kitchen table she usually shares only with Yeeqin and split the samosas down the middle.

“So what’s going on?” she asks, taking a sip of mango lassi.

Spencer purses his lips and pushes the tikka masala around on his plate before answering. Whatever has happened is still bothering him. “This case was hard,” he says. “There was a cult. They were separating kids from their families and it just became something awful. Seeing someone taking advantage of all these people who put their trust in him, it just… I try to distance myself from things when I’m in the field, you know? I try to be objective and treat it like a puzzle, but it’s not. And sometimes it’s harder to keep that distance.”

“Yeah. I know.” She doesn’t have to push down her emotions to solve a killer, but she does know the difficulties of keeping one’s distance. Of trying not to feel something.

“The case was hard enough, but then I had a… a fight, I guess with a team member. Not like we were arguing more just, like I made them upset I guess. And I didn’t mean to. But I think in trying to be helpful, in trying to be objective, I hurt them. I think that I know things or that I understand people because of this job and then when I don’t… I feel like I’ve failed.”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” she says.

“They were struggling with something. And I thought breaking it down to a science would make it easier. Maybe because that helps me. But it just made things worse and then I didn’t know how else to comfort them.”

“What happened, exactly?” she asks.

Spencer hesitates. “Uh, I can’t – I can’t really say. It’s not mine to share.”

“Oh. Of course.” But it stings slightly. You can’t get close to them. Arthur’s words of warning echo in her head. They don’t let people in. After all this time, she’d begun to think that maybe it was different. Maybe they would trust her – maybe he would trust her. But perhaps the BAU is still an impenetrable world, one she’ll never truly be welcome in. Even now. Even with him. He still won’t let her in.

He looks down. “I hate knowing that the way I am made someone I care about feel worse. I don’t have a lot of friends outside my team. And sometimes I wonder if maybe that’s because I’m not a very good one.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she says, trying to push her own frustrations aside.

“It is. The only people I’m close to who aren’t colleagues are my mom, a former colleague, and… well, I guess my girlfriend. Before she died.”

The words instantly steal her breath. She had no idea. “Spencer, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay, it was two years ago, and I don’t usually talk about it. But it’s just so easy with you. I feel like I can tell you anything.”

The sting subsides. The way he looks at her so softly like a salve for the bitterness. He’s trying. He is letting her in. He is sharing things with her he doesn’t usually share. And small bit of knowledge lifts her hopes once more.

“Well I’m glad about that. And thank you, for telling me. Although I guess what I was trying to say was that I don’t think it’s true that you’re not a good friend. I mean, I haven’t even known you a whole year and I think you’re one of the best people I know. You’re thoughtful. You’re smart. You have a tendency to be passive aggressive sometimes,” she teases, and he nods in bashful acknowledgement. “But you’re a good friend. And I’m really, really happy that you’re my friend.”

“Me too,” he says. “I really like having you in my life.”

They stand at the sink together, washing the few dishes they’ve used, and she tries not to think about the way his arm rests against hers, his fingers touching hers when she hands him a plate to dry.

“I want to be a good friend to you,” Spencer tells her. “Which means I should probably ask how you’re doing now that I’ve talked about myself so much.”

“I’m good,” she answers. “I guess I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to belong somewhere. My parents haven’t spoken to me since I took this job. I think they had higher expectations for me and I don’t think any of us really knows how to start to repair this rift between us. So it’s been strangely lonely. But I have Yeeqin, and our neighbors. I have Arthur, and Martin. And I think I’m finally starting to feel like I have a place with this job. Like I belong here.”

“Of course you do, Y/N. I mean we all think you’re great. Garcia always asks me about you. Ever since you came along, things have been different. Flying feels different. You’ve become part of the team. Not that Captain Dobson wasn’t,” he adds quickly. “But I get the sense he likes to keep a distance from things, while you…” He pauses, looking for the right words. When they don’t seem to come he just smiles. “You’re you. And you fit right it in.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry, though. About your family. You have a gift for flying. And for lifting people’s spirits. I don’t understand how who you are wouldn’t make them proud.”

Flying is her gift. Something she has always intrinsically understood. The world makes so much more sense to her from the sky. But it’s nice to know that someone outside of her world of aviators sees it as something worthwhile. It’s not just jet-setting and traveling and steering. It requires communication, a knowledge of physics and the earth and the weather. An ability to think fast and act faster.

Spencer sees her. He understands her. And he knows exactly what to say to make her feel at home.

“See?” she says, gently elbowing him. “You are a good friend.”

She decides that there has been enough trauma bonding for the night, and scoops them both a bowl of ice cream. They sit on her couch and she flips through the channels before settling on one playing one of her favorite old movies, Sabrina. It’s a nice way to unwind, with a the soft distraction of the television and the sweetness of the ice cream. And the simple pleasure of sitting beside each other.

Humphrey Bogart is sitting in the back of a car as his beloved Sabrina’s father, the chauffer, reprimands him. “I like to think of life as a limousine. Though we are all riding together, we must remember our places. There’s a front seat and a back seat and a window in between.”

Y/N is struck by the parallels. A cockpit and a cabin. A door in the middle. Two completely different worlds, inhabited by heroes who save the day and the pilots who ferry them from place to place. It’s easy to imagine Arthur saying those exact words to her, trying to protect her from her own heart.

Then she feels Spencer’s hand against her own. Glancing down as subtly as she can, she finds his pinky and ring finger stretched out over her own. So close it might be an accident. Maybe it is. But maybe for tonight she can let herself pretend it isn’t. Let herself believe that she is allowed to be close to him. Testing the waters, she slowly leans her head against his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. But he does, seconds later, respond in kind, resting his head against the top of hers. It’s warm, and his cardigan is soft against her cheek. Is this really the same man who didn’t want to shake her hand when they first met? Now they sit together, not quite embracing, but close. It’s so gentle. It feels so tender.

Neither of them says a word. They just sit there, in silence, sharing the same space.

And then the next thing she knows, she is blinking awake in the morning light. Her arm is around his waist. His hand on her shoulder. Her back incredibly stiff from falling asleep sitting up. The television is still softly playing.

She carefully pulls her arm away and sits up. His hand falls away from hers. She isn’t sure what is okay and what is too soon and what this is even supposed to be. What they are supposed to be. Y/N carefully inches to the opposite end of the couch and lies back down, pretending to still be asleep. But she stretches her leg out and allows her ankle to touch his. Holding on to some little connection. Soon, he awakes himself, and she pretends to startled out of slumber by his movements. Spencer looks at her, at their tangled legs, at her bedhead, and laughs. And she does too, giggling at how tired they must have been to fall asleep like that, how silly. How incredibly comfortable next to each other.

They walk downstairs and grab coffee and pastries at the bakery next to her building. She drives him home. He concedes that she’s far better at the helm of any vehicle than he could ever hope to be. She stops outside his building and he grabs his satchel and coffee.

Door open, he pauses, turns to her and says, “Thanks for this, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Doctor.”

He climbs out of the car. “Bye,” he says. “I l-” He blinks. “Um. I – I’ll see you on Monday.”

He closes the door. She waits until he gets into the building to start the ignition again, but lingers there on the curbside a few minutes more. Wondering what he would have said if he’d woken up to find them with their arms around each other like that. Wondering what exactly they are to each other.

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #brywrites #flight risk

223 notes · View notes

prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Cordy the vampire slayer

Cordy and Buffy Bodyswap au

Request: Hi, if you have time could you write a Buffy and Cordelia Body Swap fanfic? Set in the early episodes of Season 2? Giles tells Buffy about a special holiday for slayers, where the slayer can temporarily switch bodies with anyone she chooses and after an argument with Cordy, Buffy accidentally makes her choice. The only problem was that Giles never got to finish telling Buffy how long the switch would last — three months!

Requested by: Anon + @archiefan23

A/N: Just a little warning that Cordy kisses Angel as Buffy at one point. I really enjoyed this one !! Sorry it took so long to post love 💖

It was late morning. But the heat was rising by the minute. It was the kind of sunny day that held a multitude of possibilities. The temperature in the high school library was warmer still, but not uncomfortably so. It surrounded them in a glow that marked the beginning of summer. The kind of summer they hoped would spell demons and the like taking the same long break to sunbathe as they wished to.

Giles was in his usual suit, he wore his old faithful no matter the weather. The others figured there must be some kind of magic, breathable material tailored to him as otherwise he would be sweating buckets.

Xander, Buffy and Cordelia were waiting for Willow to arrive as Giles paced, figuring out how exactly to begin his speech without boring the teenagers to death. Unfortunately, this particular battle was one that would never be won.

Willow arrived, apologising and rushing to sit beside Xander giving him a bright smile. Giles nodded at her before turning to reveal

Giles sets the green, jagged stone in the centre of the table. Everyone just stared. It had begun to glow. The first time in a few decades.

“In every generation-”

“Oh I know this one!”

“-Yeah, there is a chosen one, yada yada-”

“No, well – yes. But, that was not what I was explaining. It is good, however, that you do actually heed what I tell you”

“God, Giles, nobody can forget it”

“I have dreams of that speech” Willow agreed.

“Nightmares” Xander added, shuddering.

“Yes, well, moving on from that enthused rally of support – in every generation there is a moment in the Slayer’s life where her consciousness may switch with that of a human. It is tradition that this would allow her to hone her skill and-”

“Well, I’m sold” Buffy shrugged, thinking of all of the free time she could have.

“-It was, ah, a vacation in some way and in others it was a sentence upon the woman that she swapped forms with”

“A sentence? Like, she had to write a paper on being a Slayer for the day? That’s horrible” Cordy said as Willow and Xander rolled their eyes at each other.

“Well, no – no nothing like this. The woman would endure being the slayer and survive unscathed would walk on the path of the righteous. She could be mythologised depending on how well she adapts to the gift”

“Yeah, like it could even be that hard!” Cordelia immediately scoffed whilst filing her nails.

“You wouldn’t last a minute, Cor”

“Oh yeah? Try me. I could slay twice as good as you!” she insisted indignantly, her hands on her hips.

“Yeah but Buffy would still get all the credit – you would be operating her body like some kind of whacky sci-fi feature” Xander added which made Cordy consider it. But, nonetheless she snatched up the stone and gestured for Buffy to do the same.

“Well, like, we would all know”

Buffy was pleased, mostly she wanted to have the day off. She thought Cordy had a pretty sweet gig. She was popular, athletic and people seemed to respect her. Plus she had seen the barista in the local coffee shop always gave her free Frappuccino’s.

So, they agreed. Giles asked several times if they were sure and they both raised an eyebrow and tried to get him to hurry up. Cordy decided she could track Devon down and show him exactly what he deserved for ignoring her for so long.

Giles put his hands over theirs who were clasped around the stone, palms glowing green as he recited the ancient rites. They stared at each other, their own bodies and facial expressions looked almost alien. It was really strange and Buffy couldn’t stop staring down at Cordy’s hands that were now hers.

The bell went and everyone went their separate ways. This could be fun, both thought at the exact same time. Cordy and Buffy couldn’t stop beaming for the entire day. They were really enjoying the swap. Cordelia would even write a paper on her day she was in such a good mood.

Cordy immediately skipped her morning classes and went to the beauty salon, to try and do something about Buffy’s hair and nightmare she called nailbeds. She was doing the girl a favour and it relaxed her anyway.

She found Devon and flipped him over her head with ease, warning him to call Cordelia back which he insisted he would and scrambled away. She dusted her hands off and put her hands on her hips proudly.

Buffy on the other hand went to all of Cordelia’s classes with little to think about other than whether that hot guy at the back was staring at her. She could just sit there with little expectation of her and enjoy it. She didn’t have to think about anything and it was really fun. She didn’t even mind sitting for Harmony for half an hour discussing the merits of a new hair serum.

It was going well. That first day was the easiest one and they were both convinced the other had it easy still. That was, until the revelation Giles was about to bestow on them. It was the end of the day and both met at the Library at the end of the day.

They returned to Giles in order to switch back. They just presumed this holiday was for a day before they were allowed to turn back. When they said this, Giles had to break it to them. Giles squinted, realising he hadn’t explained properly. They would be doing this for three months. At this revelation both of them began speaking over each other in their horror.

“That’s not a vacation, that’s squatting! This is a human rights violation, she should be paying rent to be living in there” Cordelia, from inside Buffy’s body, screeched.

“You should call your lawyer. Oh, wait – is he my lawyer now?” Buffy asked, deep in thought.

“Perhaps, uh, this will prove a pivotal part of understanding the other’s-”

“Oh my God! This is so not happening!” Cordelia spoke over Giles’ probably very profound explanation and instead stormed away.

She got in her car and started to drive towards her house, realising that she couldn’t go home. She scowled and reversed, driving to Revello Drive and tried to figure out which of the tiny box rooms was hers.

Buffy stayed with Giles and tried to see if there was a quick fix, but there was honestly nothing that he could do. He offered to drive her to Cordelia’s house and insisted that he would be there for her and Cordelia for the next few months.

The first month:

It had been a struggle. Neither of them were communicating much and Gies had insisted that the slayer still had to

It was ruining Cordy’s social life (not that she was convinced that Buffy had one anyway). She turned up to school after being driven by Joyce which she found kind of embarrassing but again, didn’t really mind seeing as nobody would know it was her.

Buffy’s arm was in a sling as she walked through the corridors. Cordelia had been trying to slay the night before and had fallen awkwardly onto her arm. No thanks to the real Buffy, who hadn’t come to help her.

As she was passed by herself, she reached and clasped her good hand around her wrist and pulled her with her. She tried to struggle but her new superstrength gave her the upper hand.

“Bathroom. Now!” Cordy squinted at herself and pulled Buffy with her again when she didn’t move of her own accord. Cordelia checked that the bathroom was empty before rounding on her.

“You know… if that happened last night your arm should be healed. Benefit of the slayer deal” Buffy offered before she could open her mouth, still trying to get used to navigating Cordelia’s body.

“Oh, yeah, I know - it’s fine. I just wanted a little sympathy but everyone kinda ignores you in the halls, huh?” she muttered, taking the sling from her shoulder and trashing it.

“Well-”

“Not the point! Where were you last night?! There was a vampire and it was like he knew every punch I was gonna throw!”

“How rude of him”

“I know!” Cordy agreed before stopping, realising Buffy wasn’t actually as invested as she was.

It was weird to Buffy how easily she had slid into being the popular girl again but it was a complete breath of relief. As if the entire world had been removed from her shoulders. She felt so much lighter.

“Ugh, just ‘cause you’re so boring and take slaying so seriously and vampires are like obsessed with you doesn’t mean that you have to be such a bitch!”

“I’m a bitch? You’re the queen of b-”

“You’re so gonna regret this, Buffy, I could make your high school career a living hell! Worse than any Hellmouth-!”

“Do you know what? I’m Cordelia Chase – I don’t take crap from anyone! Have a nice slay, oh, I mean day!” Buffy smiled overly sweetly before walking away. Cordy screamed in frustration, slamming her hand against a bathroom stall and ending up punching her entire fist through it in her frustration. Leaving her screaming again, but this time the door took the brunt of her annoyance.

After their exchange in the bathroom, both women decided they were going to make the most of the swap. By messing with the other and their lives. They were set on annoying the other just like they annoyed them.

Both ended up bickering more than usual if they ever saw passed each other. They started to say things or do things slightly out of character to annoy the person whose real life it was. This carried on for a few weeks. Cordelia started to show her strength more obviously, making more and more people question Buffy. Buffy started to pretend she couldn’t pick up even the easiest part of choreography for cheerleading.

Then, one day something happened that Cordelia saw as the final straw. Buffy walked in, as Cordelia, with her hair in a complete mess. She didn’t style Cordy’s hair and walked around all day with a birds nest. Cordy grabs her and tries to style it out, attacking her with a hair brush.

“Does my face really do that when I’m annoyed?”

“All the time” She replied, rolling her eyes. She tried to brush her hair again, but it was no use.

“No, I think the style’s really gonna catch on” Cordelia’s own face was smiling infuriatingly back at her. She was horrified. She was sure that she would never live this down. Her hair looked horrific.

“Fine. Then- then I’ll let everyone know I’m a slayer. I’m sure your Mom-”

“Cordelia! You can’t!”

“Then someone will have to discover that a tangle teaser is our friend”

Buffy soon realises that Cordelia means it and eventually gives in, which allows them a tenuous truce from there on in.

Cordelia and Buffy walked back home in the dark together, mostly in silence. They walk side by side until Buffy says goodnight and walks towards Cordelia’s house which would probably be empty when she got there. Cordelia warned her she wasn’t allowed to drive her car, she didn’t trust her.

It suddenly begins to hit each of them though, as they walked their separate ways. That their lives aren’t quite as easy as they expected.

Cordy realised she’s suddenly making all the tough decisions. The responsibility on her shoulders. Everyone automatically looked at her for guidance, to make the decisions – just because she had Buffy’s face. It was actually really hard.

Not to mention, Joyce’s parenting style was almost suffocating to her and Cordelia barely held back her snapping. She wasn’t used to someone asking after her every movement.

Plus, it was absolutely exhausting juggling slaying, sneaking out and pretending to be normal. She didn’t know why Buffy bothered. Because some gross men said so, like years ago? Cordy insisted if she was Buffy she would have quit. But, again, here she was still playing along even for the next few months without refusing to slay.

Meanwhile, Buffy was feeling how acutely Cordelia’s loneliness appeared to bleed into every aspect of her life. At home, she wasn’t really listened to no matter how rude or loud that she was. Her parents were rarely ever present and when they were it was to give her gifts to make up for all the time they were about to spend away again.

Buffy didn’t enjoy hanging out with Harmony and the rest of Cordy’s friends. None of them seemed to genuinely care about the other. Or share any meaningful bond. In fact, it didn’t seem that they cared for anyone except themselves and as soon as one walked away, they appeared to immediately begin to be rude about the others.

These new realities they have been planted in, these new perspectives gave them both something to think on. But it didn’t take from the fact that they were still so very annoyed with the other.

Month Two:

They had a lot of time to think, while living the other’s life. There was chance to reflect on themselves and the life of the other. In some sense, they were jealous and completely relieved there was an end to this.

The pair had began to bond a little more since the previous month where they were at each other’s throats. There was something about literally living another’s life that made them suddenly bonded together. Even if they didn’t really want to be.

Buffy just tried to avoid Cordy’s friends as much as possible rather than being rude to them. She didn’t want to upset Cordelia’s chance at popularity too much – she was starting to get it now, it was the way that Cordy could feel better about herself.

Towards the end of the second month, Cordelia had got into the swing of slaying by herself since those first rocky weeks. She found herself enjoying the daily exercise routine (she decided she would totally be bringing that back with her when they swapped back).

Cordelia and Buffy had been spending a lot more time together. Cordelia was in her own room – finally. Buffy’s home was a lot smaller, something she called ‘cute’ to her face but Buffy knew what she meant by it.

“When you said have a walk in your shoes, I wasn’t expecting to have to run the vampire-mile in last season’s boots” Cordy huffed, combing through the blonde hair she was still trying to get accustomed to while she looked in the mirror. She was getting angry at it, it was near-impossible to maintain in the way she was used to. Buffy always made it look so pretty. She missed her own brunette hair. She missed the way people would cower as she walked through the halls. She missed not having to

But, she liked that she could relax around the Scoobies and not have to worry about her image, not that she would admit it of course.

“Well, I always wear a heel that has a supportive ankle - y’know, for maximum slayage” Buffy shrugged and smiled, filing her nails in the way that Cordelia usually would. The change was a lot easier for Buffy seeing as this was the life she lived in Emery. It was sort of nostalgic to relive her more carefree years.

“It’s not even that hard, Cordelia. I mean, I don’t know how you hang out with Harmony and those other girls. They’re so shallow and kinda cruel” Buffy held herself back from including Cordy in the kind of girl that was cruel too.

Buffy, despite noticing the drawbacks of Cordy’s life really needed the holiday. She didn’t have any responsibility. She didn’t have to lift a finger at home and she could basically do whatever she liked whenever she liked. Cordelia’s parents barely even saw her.

“But, it never stops! Ever!”

“You’re doing this for what? Another month. You’re doing such a great job – really. Just let me have this last month and then everything goes back to normal”

“That’s easy for you to say! I mean, I have to be the Slayer and what? No soul-having hunk of goodness on my arm!?” Cordelia continued to whine as she got the comb caught in her blonde hair again. She tugged too hard and snapped the object clean in half. She groaned in annoyance. That was the last straw. She huffed and threw the pieces of the comb to the vanity table.

Buffy bit back a smile at Cordy’s overreaction. It was the opposite for her, an inconvenience not to have her strength. She felt weak and had a newfound appreciation for how her friends managed to fight vampires without any powers at their disposal.

However, Cordelia was sick of superstrength and vampire dust that seemed to get everywhere. This gave her an idea that would stay in the back of her mind. Cordy remembered that Angel had been out of town and would be returning for Buffy’s birthday. Interesting.

Buffy looked up, feeling sorry for Cordy. She knew how it felt to be out of your depth and she didn’t have the same kind of support system that Buffy did. Despite Buffy enjoying the freedom she had, she knew that this meant Cordelia wasn’t close with her parents. And her friends were shallow and wholly unsupportive. This realisation is why she offered what she did.

“Cordy? I can help, you know. With the slaying” Buffy offered softly. She was starting to realise she had just left Cordelia to it. Had begun by making her actual life harder too. It made the other woman look over, raising an eyebrow.

“Why would you want to help me?” Cordelia squinted as if she was suspicious, but Buffy just shrugged.

It made each woman think about why they had agreed to swap and what it would mean to work together rather than struggle alone. They nodded at each other, not really sure where they stood with the other.

Month three:

By the third month, both women knew the drill. Buffy would help train Cordelia and provide her with the most knowledge she could about slaying and how to improve. Which, the girl was surprisingly taking in her stride. She had slain three vampires by herself and with a very artistic flourish the night previous.

Cordelia used Buffy’s strength to her advantage spinning into a kick that would have made her overbalance before. She landed a few blows this time before she was thrown into a gravestone. She got up immediately, not allowing herself to stay down. She then charged at the vampire, plunging the stake into his chest leaving him dust in the wind.

She grinned in excitement. It truly was getting easier that slaying gig. She knew she was right – she could totally do it.

“Yeah! Take that, creep!” Cordy shouted at the pile of dust before jumping up and down over how easily she had taken that vamp down.

“Now we just need to work on your puns” Buffy added, her arms crossed as she watched.

“Only people with nothing interesting to say uses puns… oh, and you, obviously” Cordy added with a little shrug. They decided to call it a night and both were only hoping that no apocalypses threatened whilst they were still swapped. She was getting good but still.

During this time, Cordelia had also given Buffy pointers about how to enhance her popularity. To follow the age-old saying ‘Be more Cordy’. She helped her make up with Harmony by buying her something expensive and definitely not apologising to her.

It was still hard and Cordelia was always complaining whilst simultaneously gushing about the work-out routine she was picking up from this swap. She insisted she was going to do a slayer-inspired exercise video and make, like, millions from it which always made Buffy roll her eyes.

Buffy was sitting with her now usual gang of Cordettes hanging around her. She was counting to one hundred mentally in her mind until she would make an excuse and leave them to go to the library. She just hoped that she wouldn’t get seen entering again or face another war of passive-aggression with Harmony. This was one daily battle that she would rather take on an apocalypse over.

“So, what about you and Devon? He’s totally hot” Harmony afforded, “Not as much as my guy, obviously, but some people just have to lower their expectations right?” She smiled sweetly in that way Buffy had now become accustomed to.

“Yeah, Mr invisible sounds totally hot” Buffy quipped, knowing she could at least get away with that. It made the others giggle. Harmony always talking about this mystery guy but nobody had ever seen him.

Buffy sighed as she thought about all of the men she had encountered since she had swapped bodies with Cordy, and what they had propositioned to her at the Bronze. Buffy realised that men tended to try to use Cordelia and then just as quickly begin to ignore her. She does use her looks but she never ends up getting what she wants. She wants a committed relationship, companionship. It made Buffy really sad for her, she finally understood what Cordelia meant about being lonely despite having so many people around her.

She then turns to Harmony and insists, scarily exactly like Cordy would, that he was a total burnout loser with no prospects and even less in his pockets. Total no-go. The way gossip worked at Sunnydale, Devon would be blacklisted by anyone who was anyone by the final bell.

Which, is something she probably wouldn’t have done if she had known what Cordelia was planning to do that evening.

Cordy greeted Angel that evening and he smiled. It was Buffy walking towards him, how could he not smile? Angel opened his mouth to say something but she immediately crashed her lips to his. She kissed urgently, a hint of desperation and need that he would have found nice if it had actually been Buffy kissing him.

He frowned, somehow he could just sense that something wasn’t right. He stilled her, his hands on her upper arm. He pulls back, scanning her face. He squints, not sure if he should say something.

“You’re not…”

“Oh, come on… baby, I’m the slayer and you’re the soulfully good vampire. Let’s- do it” Cordy used her best seductive face, which admittedly worked better with her own features but she worked with what she had.

“Buffy, maybe we should… patrol” angel said, his voice wavered as his forehead furrowed. Something just wasn’t right.

Buffy sighed deeply and rolled her eyes and it reminded him of someone. She turned to leave but he called to her before she did, “Cordelia?” Angel tried and Buffy’s eyes met his immediately.

“How…?”

“You’re not her…” Angel admitted, looking at the floor.

“But I look like her, I’m stuck here with her entire wardrobe! What’s the big?” She sighed, her loneliness bubbling back to the surface. Ashe didn’t know whether to lash out or just cry at the rejection. She was a strong person and yet she was crumbling at the way that even as Buffy who appeared to have everything she couldn’t replicate it the same.

“Love isn’t about looks. Or, how nice your outfits are, which, um – they are pretty” He assured her, trying to soften the blow, “It-it’s something you feel deep inside. Something you know without having to question or second-guess yourself. It’s… her”

Cordy sat on the side of her bed and Angel sat beside her, comforting her. She was upset at this. Nobody had ever felt so deeply for her, she was sure of it. And it stung.

“Why does nobody like me for me? Why do I do everything and still have nobody?”

“You’re a great girl-” Angel started awkwardly, not really sure how to comfort the girl. But at these words, Cordelia suddenly stood up and left, running to Buffy’s house and hiding in her room. Just hiding her tears until she closed Buffy’s bedroom door behind her. She wanted a love story. Why did she feel like a secondary character in her own life?

The next day at school, it was finally the day. The day that Cordelia and Buffy were supposed to swap back.

Angel had explained to Buffy what had happened (although his eye contact was anywhere but her face as he found it weird to be so comfortable talking to Cordy this way). But rather than Buffy flipping out, as she might have done say three months earlier, she realised exactly why Cordy would have tried it on with Angel. Especially so after realising just how lonely it can be living Cordy’s life.

“Cor, I know what happened last night”

“Oh, yeah? What is loser just stamped on my forehead?” Cordy sighed and when she saw the look her own face was giving her she understood. Buffy wasn’t trying to be cruel or laugh at her rejection. She softened slightly, “I’m sorry okay? I am”

“Look, I know we’re not close-”

“And our hair is a very different style and texture” Cordy added without thinking.

“Our slaying abilities are different too” Buffy muttered under her breath and then shook her head at herself. She really was easily sucked into being the popular girl, “We’re not close but we’re a lot more similar than I ever thought. I get it, okay?”

Buffy took Cordelia’s hand in her own and offered her a comforting gesture. So much was left unsaid and yet both felt understood by the other in a way that had never really happened before.

“It’s tough at the top and we’re just both at the top of our worlds” Cordelia nodded along. Buffy’s the slayer of slayers and she slays the rest of the student body to be the most popular. It can be so lonely at the top and both understood the other in a much different way than they ever had before.

Cordy’s words made Buffy smile but she nodded. It was easier for Cordelia to express herself this way. Both of them were glad that they were changing back but they would miss the way that their weird friendship had blossomed through the last three months.

They understood completely now the pressure the other was under. Their points of view. Their lives. They were both hard in their own way. Maintaining Cordelia’s popularity alone was exhausting.

Giles returned to the library, nodding at the pair of them. Telling them that he was proud of the pair of them. Cordelia really had proved herself and Buffy had shown herself as someone who can support others and allow them to learn under her guidance. This admittance made both women gasp, both of them longed for a father figure and Giles saying this made both of them remember this moment for a long time after.

He recited the words, safe in the knowledge that both girls had learnt to work together in the way he had hoped upon his suggestion. Buffy needed to take a step back to have a break to appreciate her gift whilst understanding she had allies she could equally turn to for support.

A green hue lit up the room as their bodies swapped back. There was a final rush of cold air, making them both shiver and instinctually step back from each other.

This was right. Their own body, lives, returned to them. They shared a smile, a small nod of understanding before Buffy launched herself at Cordy. Pulling her into a hug. Both of their eyes were watering, it had been a long past three months.

The girls had never felt close, mostly because they hadn’t really understood the other. Not like this. But now they were sure that they would keep this bond for the rest of their lives.

#Cordelia Chase #Buffy Summers #Buffy #Cordy #btvs #btvs imagine #btvs fic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #bodyswap au #bodyswap #buffyverse #buffy x cordelia #Buffy Summers x Cordelia Chase

30 notes · View notes

fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

Time for Amnesia

Chapter Ten: “Don’t Make Me Repeat Myself.”

(Previous Chapter Here)

Yeah sorry for the mix up here’s the chapter I finally wrote after like 6 months-

Something pokes his face.

Blinking groggily, Kai looks around. Where the hell is he this time? What’s going on?

It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s stuck in some kind of prison cell, laying uncomfortably on the floor.

Jay pokes him again. “Are you awake yet?” He prompts.

Kai immediately gets to his feet, cursing at the stone walls lined with metal and the way the sole window is in the door, a set of bars through it for extra security.

“Yeah, we’re kinda stuck. Captured. The others probably have no idea where we are or who kidnapped us- we don’t even know who kidnapped us.” Jay gives a quiet laugh- one more out of fear than humor.

“We’re gonna die. This is it. We’re just going to get murdered here. Are we even going to find out who captured us? I mean probably, but we’ll be killed immediately after. I’d say we haunt them as ghosts, but after seeing what that did to Cole, I’d rather be in an afterlife. I think. I’ll have to ask him what being a ghost was really like- or I would, if we had the chance to see him before getting murdered!” Jay’s clearly panicking, and- hey, isn’t he supposed to be the experienced one here?!

Kai stares at him for a few moments. “We- we’re not gonna die.” His voice is shaky, but he tries to ignore that as he goes up to the barred window in the door. No, he won’t die, he refuses to die. This can’t be how it ends, with him not even knowing who he is! That’s not fair!

He wills his fire into his hands, but nothing happens. Scowling, he tries again, but for some reason, it still doesn’t work.

Ugh, come on, he did this before without even really thinking about it! Why is it so hard to do now?!

“Jay, blast this thing with lightning!” He instructs. “We can figure out where to go from there.”

Jay looks unimpressed. “It’s vengestone. You can’t use elemental powers when there’s vengestone.” He sounds tired, and Kai gives him a glare.

“Would you mind picking an emotion and sticking with it? Panic or calm or annoying or whatever? I’m not in the mood to navigate whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

He ignores the sputtering noise the ginger makes in response in favor of looking closer at the bars of the cell they’re in. There’s gotta be something he can do here…

Unfortunately, if there actually is something he can do, he can’t figure out what it is. Which is bullshit, but something tells him this is how his life usually ends up going.

With a grimace, he looks back at Jay. “Do you know who captured us? Or why?”

The other shrugs, which only serves to fuel his annoyance. “No idea,” he admits, “but they’re probably trying to keep us from stopping them from doing something evil.”

For a few moments, all he can do is stare. Seriously? This is what he’s working with here? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” he grumbles sarcastically, silently lamenting his past self. Why would he hang out with these people to begin with? Sure, they said something about him needing to rescue Nya, but couldn’t he have just left afterwards? Why would he let himself get put into these situations?

“Look, we- we’re probably gonna be fine.” Jay assures. “It’s just- uh. I tend to overreact a lot. It’s gonna be okay, I just freak out easy.” He sounds uncertain of himself, and Kai resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Like I said: pick an emotion and stick to it,” he snaps, turning away again. This entire situation is infuriating as it is, he really doesn’t need Jay pissing him off more.

Shaking his head, Kai comes to a conclusion. He doesn’t know what’s going down here, but whatever it is needs to hurry up and just happen.

Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step back, trying to dig back into those forgotten memories. He knows how to fight, doesn’t he? Why can't he remember it?!

With a huff, he comes to a decision. He’ll give this a shot and hope that his muscle memory will take care of it.

“Kai?” Jay speaks up behind him, but Kai ignores him in favor of taking a deep breath, preparing himself.

“Kai, I don’t think-“

Summoning all of the rage and frustration inside of him, Kai moves forward, kicking the door with as much strength as he can muster.

But even with all the force in his hit, the door only rattles against its hinges in response.

As a matter of fact, the only real result is the red-hot pain that’s suddenly jolting up his leg.

The high-pitched yelp that escapes him is just plain embarrassing, and as if to damage his pride more, he ends up stumbling backwards, falling flat on his ass against the stone floor.

“Ow,” he grumbles, grabbing his foot instinctively. Damn, that hurt a lot more than he thought it would- well, actually, he wasn’t expecting it to hurt at all. In the movies, the door would’ve just swung right open.

But this isn’t a movie. This is real.

The sudden understanding hits him like a bucket of ice water.

He keeps not thinking, he keeps just acting, but this isn’t a game. He knows nothing about what’s going on, he doesn’t know what enemies he has, and all he’s done so far is alienate the people who he needs to stay alive.

Jay pries his hands off of his foot, and Kai feels himself flinch. When had he gotten that close?

“Alright, uh, maybe don’t do that again.” The ginger suggests. “It doesn’t look too bad, but there’s probably gonna be a few bruises.”

Grimacing, Kai nods. “Okay,” he agrees, ignoring the frustration boiling in his chest.

He can’t afford to keep doing this. Like it or not, this is his situation. If he keeps this up, he’s going to get himself killed. He needs to work with the allies his past self had made- he has them for a reason.

That doesn’t make them any less annoying, though.

Jay seems surprised- probably because he didn’t snap at him. Well, actually, if he’s being honest, he probably needs to do something to fix whatever damage he had done to their relationship since he woke up.

Not romantically, though. He doesn’t even want to think about that.

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his pride- for the moment, at least. “I was being mean to you earlier. ‘m sorry.” He mutters the words in a low growl, refusing to look at the other while he does.

Even though his eyes are on the floor, he can still tell how startled Jay is. Which is honestly fair- Kai hasn’t exactly been the nicest since he woke up.

“What?”

Flashing him a glare, Kai struggles to keep his temper under control. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snaps.

He has to get along with these people, sure- he doesn’t have a choice- but would it really hurt for them to be less annoying? Or is that just their personalities?

Jay opens his mouth to reply, but just then, there’s a weird slithering noise coming down the hall, growing closer. Silently, they exchange a glance. The ginger seems to be trying to tell him something, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what.

Quickly pulling the two of them to their feet, Jay grabs him by the arm and pushes him against the wall by the door. Once he has, he takes a few steps back, staring out the window definitely.

It takes a moment before that clicks- if the door is opened, anything on the other side won’t be able to immediately see him. Of course, it comes with the risk of getting a bloody nose, but-

The noise stops just outside the door, and even though Kai can’t see past the bars where he is, he can at least see the ginger’s almost shocked expression.

“Hello there, ninja. Long time no see, hm?”

Taking half a step back and clenching his fists, Jay seems to be trying to swallow back his fear. “Ha, with that ugly mug, I wish it’d been longer!” He snaps.

“And you are still as unoriginal as always, it seems,” the stranger tsks, sounding amused. “But I suppose I must ask, what happened to that little fire-starting friend of yours? He was in here earlier, I know.”

Kai feels himself tense, but Jay doesn’t even glance in his direction. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” He finishes the words off with a hesitant smirk, but then pauses. “Well, I mean, I guess technically I’m the one with the lightning powers… but I’m still not telling you anything!”

There’s another pause, and after a few moments of it, Jay huffs, narrowing his eyes. “I see that someone doesn't know their memes, huh?”

“Yes, well, some of us are actually intelligent. But that is… besides the point. I wasn’t aiming for the two of you in particular for this, but I suppose you’ll do.”

This time, Jay does glance towards Kai, a poorly-hidden terrified look on his face for the split second their eyes meet.

“So he’s just beside the door, then? Hmm. I suppose I had a bit too high of an opinion of you both to think one of you could have escaped,” the stranger chuckles again, somehow making it sound even more insulting than before. “But then again, I most likely would have caught him again anyway.”

Kai can feel his breathing catch at the words, his entire body tensing with apprehension.

Who even is this guy?!

Jay scoffs, but he’s still clearly stressed out. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pythor. We’ve beaten you before, and we’ll do it again!”

Alright, so their name is Pythor. If Kai didn’t know any better, he’d say that that kind of name would belong to a serpentine. But serpentine are just an old bedtime story, so they can’t be-

Well, it wasn’t long ago he thought the same thing about magic. So it might be possible. But it still doesn’t sound-

Wait. When Lloyd was telling him about the volcano… he mentioned serpentine, didn’t he? And- and this Pythor guy specifically!

… and this serves to show that Kai should really pay more attention to what these guys talk about.

Speaking of which, he should probably tune back in to whatever’s going on with Jay and Pythor now.

“-can’t be serious. I mean, I knew you were crazy, but this is a whole new level, even for you. Didn’t someone actually say that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results? I don’t remember who, but my point stands! You-“

“Yes, well, I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. I do, however, have other questions I would like answers to.” The words are spoken threateningly, intense enough that Kai can feel himself shudder.

Jay, however, looks unaffected- actually, he looks like he’s starting to calm down from his earlier panic. “And why would we give them to you?”

Fear still coiled in his guts, Kai forces himself to take deep breaths. This doesn’t look good, and Jay just seems to be escalating the situation. And Kai would try to do the opposite but one: he doesn’t know how. Two: he’s pretty sure Pythor wouldn’t listen. And three: he has a very intense desire to punch this guy in the face. There’s not really a reason, he’s just annoying and sounds really punchable.

“Well, blue ninja, I think you’ll find it’s because you don’t have a say in the matter. One way or another, I-“

Fuck it.

Shoving his rational thoughts to the side, Kai quickly sidesteps in front of the door. And- yeah, that’s definitely a serpentine. Still, he doesn’t let himself dwell on that. If anything, the long neck is a plus.

Because it’s that much easier to reach through the bars and grab.

Hand tight around Pythor’s throat, he yanks him into the door, forcing his head to slam against it with a very satisfying smack.

Kai lets himself smirk as he lets go, expecting the snake to collapse to the floor from the force of the hit.

Instead, he finds himself staring into infuriated magenta eyes.

Oh. Okay.

Kai may have made a mistake.

#ninjago fanfiction #time for amnesia au #fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

markszone · 4 years

Text

Don’t Need a Lucky Charm

GIF from nakamotens

Summary: Supporting Mark's first boxing match

Pairing: boxer!Mark x female reader

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8K

( A/n: couldn’t get this boxer Mark out of my head... enjoy!!❤️)

You and Mark were laying on the couch watching a show to pass time.

“I’m so excited for tonight,” you said, turning around to face your lover.

“I’m nervous,” Mark admitted.

You ran a hand through his smooth brown hair, your hand parting through the soft strands. He was going to his first boxing match after months of training, he has every right to be nervous.

"Win or lose. You'll always be a winner in my eyes," you comforted him.

His arms tightened around your waist. "There's no bigger catch than you, baby." he said with a wink after.

You smiled, feeling all the butterflies erupt, and kissed him.

You turn to look at the clock. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"

"Nah, I don't want to wear myself out," he explained.

He stood up letting go of you and straightened his clothes, he held a hand out to you and you looked at him puzzled.

"I thought you weren't gonna train?" you asked.

"I'm not," he replied "C'mon, let's go to the nearest beach while we still have time."

"Okay," you replied, taking his hand and straightening your clothes as well.

He grabbed the keys while you grabbed a bunch of chips to munch on the way.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep, c'mon," you replied.

-----

It wasn't a long drive to the beach, you reached there within a few minutes, you stepped outside the salty breeze clouding the air. You loved the beach even though you drove by it plenty of times.

Mark walked around the car and grabbed your hand making a smile light up your face. His fingers laced through yours holding you tightly. He brought your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing your knuckles.

"Can we switch hands?" you asked, you still wanted to eat the potato chips while you walked. He released your hand, and you walked around quickly grabbing his other hand.

He was holding the chips packet with his spare hand while you fed him and yourself with your other hand.

"Summer is coming around, you have any plans?" he asked.

"Maybe just lounge around and just spend time reading," you said, which was exactly what you did every summer.

"I think we should go on a road trip," he suggested.

"I thought we were gonna do that during spring?" you question him.

"I thought about it but I think it's better if I work during spring, save up, and then we go on a road trip for two months," he explained "That means we get to spend more time with each other."

"I like the sound of that," you said.

Mark sat down on the sand and pulled you down on his lap, his arms embracing your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder while you rested your head on the side of his. Watching the waves crash the shore feeling utterly at peace in his arms and near the beach.

"Wouldn't it be cool if a shark washed up on shore?" he asked enthusiastically.

"More terrifying than cool, bub," you muttered.

"You could watch me kill it in order to protect you," he said his arms tightening around you "Would you be impressed, my lady?"

"Considering it would already be dead due to lack of water. I'm pretty sure I could kill it too." you chuckled.

"I suppose this is the downfall of dating someone ten times smarter than you," he sighed.

You faced him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Mark blushing immediately as soon as your lips left his cheek. You smiled at your boyfriend, admiring his boyish smile and red cheeks.

You traced your hand on his jaw wondering just how lucky you were to be with the single most amazing person in the world. You lost track of how long both of you sat there in silence, comfortable silence. The kind that you could only share with certain people and yours was Mark.

"It's so beautiful," you breathe, staring at the sun setting in the distance. The flickers of orange, pink and red mixed in a beautiful swirl illuminating the sky. It was breathtaking.

"You know what's beautiful? Watching you admire something which seems so dull in comparison to your beauty," he whispered softly.

You blushed hard, thinking you were hardly prettier than the sunset, but it was kind of him to say so. You looked down hiding your reddened cheeks.

"I wish you believed me," he said.

He looked at his watch before slowly bringing the both of you up.

"My match will start soon," he informed.

You could already feel the nerves kicking in at the statements so you wondered just how nervous he must feel.

-----

Mark paced around the locker room, his hair put up neatly to avoid the bangs on his face while fighting, and his strong chest on display. You could hear the sound of his name loudly echoing through the room.

"I have to go home. I forgot the dishes," he said suddenly.

He reached for his shirt just as you grabbed it. He looked up at you and just beneath his firm expression you could see the glints of fear.

"Mark you are going to do fine," you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder.

"How do you know that?" You're not a psychic."

"I don't have to be. You are the strongest and most hardworking person I know and tonight you'll prove tha-"

Your words were cut off by his lips, his lips moved against yours hungrily as though he were saving a piece of you for the match. He pulled back his breath ragged. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I don't need a lucky charm. You are my strength Y/N," he said.

"Then go prove me right, Lee."

He pulled on a pair of blue gloves, and pounded his fists together. He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before he headed to the entrance.

"Next up is Lee," the announcer yelled.

He gave you a small wink before walking out into the crowded room, and stepping into the ring. The other boxer stood on the other side of the ring, he must have already entered before Mark's moment of doubt.

You moved to join the full crowd, elbows dug into painfully, shoulders pressed against yours. The more you tried to get to the front the more you were pushed back. You couldn't see anything mainly due to your height but also because you were too far back. How were you supposed to cheer for Mark if you couldn't even see him?

"Lee wants the girl in the blue shirt to be brought to the front," the announcer demanded.

"I'm over here," a girl wearing blue called.

"No he means me."

"Bring me front."

"My bra is blue. I can prove it."

"Mark baby I'm coming."

The room erupted in chaos with everyone claiming to be you. You halted in your spot feeling your protective instincts for Mark kick in, because every girl was struggling to move front towards him and every guy seemed to be irritated by this.

"Shut up," Mark said in an annoyed tone, through the announcer's microphone.

The room slowly grew silent.

"Much better," he murmured.

His voice softened. "Y/N, babe, where are you? Raise your hand please."

"I'm here," you said raising your hand.

"Good," he said "Now all of you please part like the Red Sea and let her come through."

They slowly moved aside providing you enough space to navigate to the front. You gave the people you were passing a small smile to show your gratitude, but they all seemed to be sporting matching expressions of irritation. You finally made it to the front of the ring glad to be closer to him.

"Let's begin," the announcer yelled.

The crowd resumed in their cheering, yelling 'Lee' repetitively and occasionally the name Jaehyun who must have been the opponent. You eyed this Jaehyun he was built, very built, Mark was almost as tall as him. It kinda scared you, but you believed in Mark.

The announcer went over the rules, explaining what determined a win and a loss. You listened intently paying attention to the rules much of which the crowd wanted to drown out in their cheers.

"Round One"

They circled each other like predators. It was Jaehyun who threw the first punch which Mark effectively dodged, retailing with a swift punch to the stomach. They did this a few times exchanging positions of defense and offense. At times it seemed like Mark had a third eye because of the way he dodged a majority of his hits.

The rounds came and went each time Mark got hurt it felt like a blow to your own chest, and each time he had the upper hand you felt like a proud soccer mom at one of her kid's games.

You couldn't help but notice that Mark was very talented, his punches were well aimed, his steps seemed measured, and just looking at the constant flicker of his eyes you could tell that he was aware of his surroundings. His behavior seemed to imitate that of an animal fighting for survival.

The last round of the match was nearing and Mark's face and chest was a burning red coated by sweat. Exhaustion didn't begin to cover the state of him at the moment.

"You can do this Mark!" you yelled "Take it home, baby!"

The round felt like a century with them both seemingly worn out.

"Mark, baby, put him down!"

Mark suddenly charged at Jaehyun, forgetting about holding his position, and continuing firing a punch after punch. I watched wide eyed as Jaehyun dropped to his knees and finally rested on his back. The referee blew his whistle, and soon after raised Mark's hand declaring him the winner.

His chest rose and fell as the crowd roared in delight and victory. He spit out his mouth guard grinning widely. Your heart clenched with joy as you watched him bask in his glory and heard the growing chant of his name begin. This was his moment.

In his moment Mark proudly smiled and when your eyes met, you swore you saw the galaxies in his eyes and you felt as if you're the luckiest person to have ever crossed paths with him. He made you so proud.

------

You waited for Mark to enter the locker room and once he did, you tackled him with a big hug not minding his sweaty body. Mark pulled away to cup your face, seeing you smile proudly at him made his heart burst into happiness. He leaned in to give you a kiss. Your lips moving against each other.

You slowly pulled away just enough that your lips were still brushing against each other. "I love you," you said "Win or lose, I'm proud of you for doing your best."

"I love you too," he replied.

Kissing you once more. Happiness and pride lighting up his face.

237 notes · View notes