#i think it's fair to say you may be less inclined to want to admit that your experience working on a show was fucked up
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obv the movie is titled zoey 102 but the most annoying thing about it was that we didn't even really get to see quinn and logan in their relationship. like the focus was almost always on their conflicts with regards to the marriage but the first real moment between them where it wasn't about that conflict was when they had their first dance and quinn teased him about the oyster shuckers. and it was such a small moment but i loved it and i want more insight into their daily life and the everyday teasing and uplifting and idk like again obv the title is zoey 102 but i don't think most people would disagree that it fully being a movie about quinn and logan would have been so much better. like the zoey and chase plot took up so much unnecessary space and their sudden bout of closure didn't even make sense bc they had one conversation prior to it after over a decade of mutual non-communication so why was any of this more important than quinn and logan. esp logan tbh. like quinn kind of had the liberty of a few moments to herself where she expressed her worldview in her own way but logan had close to none up until the proposal and yes i do love that he's quinn's number one supporter but i also wanted to know what that was like outside of the context of the wedding if that makes sense. like how he exists in their day to day relationship. there were glimpses of that in the final wedding sequence but i wanted so much more and i know the idea of a spin-off is so delusional at this point but the cast do apparently want to do it and i for one would love an exclusively quinn and logan spin-off where zoey and chase can be side characters ig 🙄 so.. why not!
#zoey 101#zoey 102#quinn x logan#quogan#i was very wary of the idea of a spin off at first but now that we know dan schneider is completely divorced of the project#i feel more inclined to want it if it's possible#granted i do still think the cast needs to work out their issues with alexa bc that was still shitty#but with the way the timing of jennette mccurdy's book worked out i have this feeling it contributed to their maybe#reevaluating their relationship with him. like they reunited with him barely a few years ago so it was surprising to see him not involved#in this movie. but the fact that production started only a few months after jennette's release really feels significant to me idk#like obv i don't want to make excuses for the cast but when you're a kid doing that work and parents are largely controlling you bts#i think it's fair to say you may be less inclined to want to admit that your experience working on a show was fucked up#bc it's scary to think it could have been. and from the response jennette got i feel like it was a huge catharsis for a lot of people#so who knows. maybe her book was what they needed to recognize that how he treated them was fucked up too#or at least that's what i hope. but anyway. erin and matt are super super sweet and their chemistry is phenomenal and i want a show
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Regret
(Also on Ao3)
Mori was not unfamiliar with regret.
Of course, he'd never let that stop him from acting in Yokohama's best interest. A few times in his life, he'd even had the displeasure of regretting his actions before he'd even taken them. But above all else lied the greater good, so he couldn't let sentimentality or emotions sway him from it.
He sat in his chair contemplating such regrets now, looking out over the skyline and brushing a finger along the rim of his glass on the table beside him. He smiled wistfully. Peace was hard to come by but always appreciated, especially given his position and the current tumultuous status of their dear city.
"Boss."
Mori looked up to see Chuuya stepping into the office, holding up a few manilla folders. Mori inclined his head to the chair next to him.
"Chuuya, welcome back. Leave the reports on my desk and have a drink with me."
Chuuya didn't argue, always up for a casual drink. The man did as requested, leaving the files neatly on Mori's desk before coming around to take the empty seat. He poured himself a healthy glass of wine, and Mori hid his smile behind his own glass. His executive's love of the drink was no secret, but neither was his incredibly low tolerance of the stuff. Mori eyed the one glass and wondered if he'd need to send for someone to escort Chuuya home after this.
"Mission went well, I presume?"
"Yes," Chuuya nodded, swishing the wine in his cup and sniffing it with a grin. "No casualties or unexpected issues."
"Well done," he praised. "And our truce? How fairs our little kept detectives?"
Chuuya snorted, rolling his eyes. "They have no troubles, not with that bandaged menace among them. If anything, our concern should be them betraying us first."
Mori hummed thoughtfully, eyes sliding from Chuuya back to the cityscape. "I'm not concerned," he admitted easily. "Dazai is smarter than that."
Chuuya grumbled under his breath what sounded like disagreement on Dazai's intelligence, but Mori just chuckled at his theatrics.
"Chuuya," Mori called his attention, "you know I have much respect for you, thanks to all that you've done since joining the Port Mafia. You are an incredibly talented individual and much more than simply the brawn of Double Black, as some of our enemies may say. I trust your strategy."
Chuuya seemed to be getting embarrassed under his praise, but his face twisted with befuddlement at Mori's last statement. "My strategy?"
"With Dazai," Mori clarified, smile sharp.
Chuuya tensed ever-so-slightly. "What do you mean? I hate Dazai and want him dead."
Mori raised a brow, glancing over at him. "Oh? Did I misunderstand Dazai being seen leaving your apartment several times since our truce?"
Chuuya's face was redder than his hair. "That vagabond broke in, it wasn't–"
"Chuuya," Mori cut him off simply, turning in his chair to face his executive with a smile. "We're in a truce. Dazai is a valuable piece. He may never rejoin the Port Mafia due to his…certain sensitivities, but myself being out of his favor does not extend to our entire organization. I paired you together all those years ago because I saw something great in the two of you. If that extends beyond what was initially expected, I do not hold that against you."
Chuuya's hands were curled into tight fists, leather creaking. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I think you do," Mori disagreed, "but I won't force you to speak it out loud. I just meant to offer my blessing, should you wish to continue your liaison with less stress about discretion." He frowned with concern. "You do carry such a heavy weight for one at your age. I don't wish for you to burn out, Chuuya. If you need to take some time for yourself, you're always welcome to."
Chuuya's mouth opened and closed without sound, as if he wasn't sure where to begin. Mori smirked, turning away and taking a sip of his drink.
"Dazai and I," Chuuya eventually settled on, teeth gritted, "are nothing more than ex-partners."
Mori hummed. "I'm not expecting you to tell me everything, but I'd appreciate it if you refrained from lying to my face."
Chuuya sputtered. "Wha–no! I'm not–He's nothing to me, I haven't–I would never betray the Port Mafia, this is my family, I–"
Mori held up a hand. "No one is accusing you of anything," he said. His mind went to an old place, with silver hair and a sword and trust so deeply ingrained in his bones that it felt like it could never be removed. It had been, eventually, but sometimes he still felt the remnants, the taste of the nostalgia heavy on his tongue, especially with their new truce. He sighed. "Sometimes there are people in this world who just fit together, as if you were matching puzzle pieces. I sensed that with you and Dazai, that's why I had you two team up as partners. And I think I've been proven correct by this point, between all the happenings throughout the years."
"I would never–"
"I trust you, Chuuya," Mori cut him off easily, and it was a fact. Even if he couldn't trust Dazai as much as he wanted, Chuuya was bluntly honest with those he felt loyal to and even with his own impressive set of skills and brilliance, he'd never shown any drive or desire to uproot the Port Mafia with a coup. Even if he was popular enough to have his own subset of loyal followers, Chuuya was meant to follow orders himself, not give them. He couldn't handle the weight of an entire organization on his back, the decisions that had to sometimes be made, one life for many. Chuuya still mourned every life they lost, knew every one of his underlings by name, and while that was becoming of a man, it was not a good trait for a leader of an organization with as bloody of a history as the Port Mafia.
"Dazai is angry at me," Mori said, "and he may always stay angry at me. But: he's too much like me to not see the benefit of this organization's existence; he's too smart to not be able to subtly influence certain events around us; and," he paused, putting the entire weight of his assessment on Chuuya as he met the other's gaze, "he's too emotionally involved with certain members to allow anything too tragic to happen to us. He won't let you get too far from him, Chuuya. All I ask is that you return the favor."
"I still don't understand what you're talking about," Chuuya frowned. "Dazai is a traitor."
"Dazai is a teenager having a temper tantrum," Mori said, long-suffering, "but alas, he always was. You have always taken care of his plans, sometimes without even discussing it with him like that recent issue with Shibusawa. I give you free reign to continue doing so." Mori waved him off. "It's fine with me if you remain close to him. That's all."
Chuuya seemed like he wanted to keep denying it, but instead he grabbed his wine glass and chugged the whole thing inelegantly, standing and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Thank you, boss. I think I'm going to retire for the day," he said with strain in his voice.
Mori smirked, nodding at him. "You're dismissed. Why don't you take tomorrow off as well? Don't worry about coming in until Monday. "
"Very well. Thank you," Chuuya agreed stiffly, before turning about and walking out the door as awkwardly as a robot.
Mori rolled his eyes. Dazai and Chuuya may not be teenagers anymore, but they certainly still acted like they were, at least where the other was concerned. He was sure he didn't need to remind Chuuya about tomorrow being Dazai's birthday, and he expected the other had been planning to ask off anyways. Mori had been dealing with a slew of tiny annoyances all day, and he recognized that the secret alert codes that the Port Mafia used had spelled out 'Let My Dog Free' in Dazai's own secret code from when he was fifteen. He didn't want to imagine what havoc Dazai was planning to unleash if Mori hadn't given Chuuya tomorrow off.
"Introducing them was either my best idea or my worst," Mori spoke to himself. "Only time will tell, I suppose." He allowed himself one more moment of melancholy before he felt Elise appear at his side.
"Rintarou! I want a new doll," she demanded, stomping her foot.
"Of course, let's go to the shops then," he agreed easily, setting aside his thoughts on other matters to have a moment in the present.
There would always be another day full of regrets.
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RQ: He’s upset and needs comforting
Masterlist
Ya'll want angst? Because I have some angst.
Very hurt/comfort
Set platonically and within the group since there was no specification. Hope that’s ok! Sorry it took awhile, it got away from me again. I think this may be a trend.
Scenario under the cut! It’s super long so take caution!
Sky
It took a while for you to notice but eventually you do.
Sky has been acting weird all day.
It was only clipped responses at first, then it was was the lack of attention where Sky would have been the first to comment or act otherwise. What really tipped you off finally was how he seemed to be evading the whole group. Not necessarily stepping away and out of sight but he didn’t interact with anyone and when they approached him, he didn’t make eye contact, seemingly trying to cut the conversation short.
No one has said anything.
You mention it to Twilight about his out of character behavior but he says that it maybe a bad day, or he slept wrong, or some other reason that you stopped listening to because it didn’t make any sense.
Sky was always trying to be friendly no matter his mood and it took a lot to shake him up.
What was eating at the Chosen Hero?
Soon, the uncertainty begins to eat at you too and you wait for night fall, once everyone is asleep to strike.
Strike up a conversation that is.
Sky usually takes the last watch because he’s usually the first one out regardless of what activities for the day so you strive to wake up early.
It works for the most part, your internal clock doing what you want it to do when you blink your eyes open. Part of you begins to drift off again so you sit up and nearly fall asleep that way.
A hand comes up on your back and rubs a small circle. “Nightmare?”
It’s Sky and he’s looking at you with mild concern.
You smile and shake your head. “No. I’m alright but I think I’ll stay up with you if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He moves out of your space and back to where he sat.
You follow, still groggy from just waking from your slumber but succeed in not stepping on any of your friends or waking them up as well with the added noise. you sit next to the Hero of the Skies with little fan fare and let the moment settle on the both of you before looking skyward.
“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look at Sky and continue star gazing even if they’re a little harder to spot as the sun travels closer for it’s shift.
Sky hums in agreement and follows your gaze upwards.
“Are you ok? You seemed a little off lately.”
Sky doesn’t say anything for the first few seconds and you suspect that maybe he didn’t hear you. With him spacing out so much and the fact that you whispered for the sake of your still sleeping friends, you’re inclined to repeat yourself but Sky answers in time.
“Just thinking a lot, I suppose. Nothing serious.”
“Yeah?” You don’t look his way. This is casual. This is friendly. This is not a big deal. “Rupee for your thoughts?”
“It’s not that interesting.”
You shrug. “Hit me with it anyway. It’s got to be something if it’s throwing you off your rocker. Maybe a new perspective will help clear some of it up?”
Sky frowns at your attempts, once again retreating into his mind. You let the offer hang in the air and let it sink in.
You’re disinclined to bring it up anymore. Your brain is still tired and you’re wondering your effectiveness when half of your thoughts are still muddled with sleep and fatigue. You could have totally slept in some more. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?
“Time mentioned something earlier that I can’t seem to let go of.” Sky begins.
You hum back and let him keep talking.
“I never fought this Ganon guy they all so talk so much about. I fought the God Demise. Before I could land the final blow, he cast a curse on me, on us, that some cycle would continue. His hatred would last forever and my blood line and Zelda’s will be cursed to deal with constant darkness caused by him.” Sky admits, looking now at his intertwined hands. “I finished him soon after that but... I wonder... Am I the cause-... Is this all my fault? Am I the reason that we’re all here right now? That everyone has gone through so much? So many thing happened that should have never occurred. Time and Legend and Wild have all suffered so much.... more than I can possibly ever imagine and it seems like it’s never ending. Everyone starts they’re adventures so young... If I had killed him sooner... If I had just got it over with... If I had just shut him up-”
“Hey.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, cutting off his tirade. “None of this is anyone’s fault. The only people to blame are Ganon and now, this Demise guy. You did what you could. You still got the job done and no one here will ever blame you for what has happened to them or to Hyrule. You were young too... you’re still young. Give yourself a little kindness and understanding, just as you do with everyone here. You didn’t deserve it either. It’s not like you asked to fight a God.”
“Well...”
“Sky you know what I mean.”
“I should have been faster. If-”
“There’s no use in worrying about what if’s.” You shove him slightly. “This is our life. Even if you ask, no one is capable of giving you the answers. I get it. It’s hard to know if the path you took is the right one if it’s all you’ve ever known and you can’t see where the other would have lead... But... Even if horrible things happen, I’m still glad to have met you. I’m glad I met the others. I’m happy to be here with you and with them, and I’m glad that it’s not just me anymore.”
You let the words sink in before leaning down wards and trying to get him to look you in the eye. “I can’t answer your questions. But what happened, happened and the best thing we can do is learn how to play with the cards we’re dealt.”
He take a deep breath and finally looks in your direction. “I know you’re right.”
“Naturally.”
“But I can’t help but feel responsible for being-”
“But you’re not responsible for their pain or any of this Sky. If Ganon has anything to do with Demise then it’s all Demise’ fault. His and his only. Understand?” You stress. “I wish... I wish I could do something more to help.”
Sky places his hand over yours where you still have it on his shoulder and sends you a small smile. “I know. Me too.”
Wild
“Zelda, would you please drop it!” You hear the Champion yell, his voice carrying over the wind and somehow getting louder. “We’ve had this conversation before and it’s not the time to have it again. I have things to do excuse me.”
Wild storms into his house and shuts the door behind, blocking it with all his weight and waits for the indignant shrieking on the other side to go away. The voice ends with a frustrated huff and after a moment of silence, Wild relaxes and steps away from the door and further into the house.
You’re almost scared for the moment. You’ve not known Wild to yell, even less so for a Link to be on bad terms with Zelda no matter the universe. To make matters worse, you were the only that was actually within the house at the moment and you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed from here.
“Trouble in paradise?”
That probably wasn’t the way to go, if you were being honest with yourself.
Wild groans, loud and exaggerated and sits at the table in front of you with as much fan fair.
“Do not...call it that.” He sounds tired.
“Sorry.” You amend with an apologetic shrug. “That-” You reference to the scene outside. “-Didn’t sound ideal.”
“No. It’s not.” Wild sighs and places his face in his hands with his elbows on the table. Bad table manners, a small voice in your head pipes up. But it’s his house, so you bite your tongue.
“Can I ask what it was about?” You hesitatingly venture.
Wild takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I wanted to live a simple life.” He starts. “Everything was over now, right? That was the idea I had. Defeat the evil and get to finally live as a normal man. Maybe explore more of my home and show Zelda all the cool things I’ve seen and done. Everything I knew, everything I remembered is gone and has been gone for a while. No one alive misses it. No one alive even knows about it. This is the world they were born into and they wouldn’t have it any other way. I was prepared to accept that and join them.”
Your face twists in sympathy as you nod along. “I take it that’s the issue here.”
“When I defeated Calamity Ganon and reunited with Zelda, she seemed so full of hope and purpose.” Wild continues. “I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”
“And what’s that?”
Wild gives you a pained look. “Zelda wants to try and rebuild the kingdom. Make it into what she remembers it to be. She wants to strengthen relationships with the other nations and reestablish the royal family and a whole lot of other things that I cannot begin to think of how long it would both take and last considering all the damage that already been done. She wants to be Queen. And over what? Hyrule Kingdom is no more. Can’t be a Queen without a kingdom to rule and there’s not a lot of Hylians left that would agree to being ruled over or even enough of them to count as a kingdom to begin with.”
“I suppose it’s not a bad goal to have but you do make a point.” You try and add to the conversation, feeling wildly out of your depth. “Does she know that you-”
“Yes. And she thinks I’m crazy for it. She thinks that I’ve given up on my friends and the past and the future and- uugghhh.” Wild leaned forward and slams his head on the table with enough force to make you jump.
“That look like it hurt.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I believe you.” A small smile covers your face.
A beat passes before Wild continues to talk with his head still on top of the table. “I don’t think she realizes that I’ve changed after everything. Maybe if I had my memories to begin with, or maybe if I had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon sooner, I’d be more inclined to agree with her, but I’ve experienced so much and done so much that I don’t want to go back to how things were. I’m a different man now.” Wild looks up at you. “She’s different too but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation.”
“So you’re stuck with this one?”
“Yes.”
“That sucks man.” You shift in your seat. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Not if you can change the past.” He pouts.
“Shame. I’m fresh out of past changing wishing powder.”
“That’s not a thing.” He pouts even more.
You chuckle at the display before sobering up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“What good will that do?”
“Maybe a third person party has to step in. It could be that it’s because you’re the one who saying that she isn’t listening.” You shrug. “I think you’re right but I’m willing to give her chance to tell her side of the story while you cool down in here. I can be a distraction so you can sneak out quietly and she won’t know you’re here anymore! It’s a win win! And maybe you guys can come to an agreement when you both see each other again with new perspectives.”
Wild gives you another tired look and leans into his hand. “I doubt it would work. Zelda is incredibly stubborn, one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But if you think it would help, I won’t stop you. I’ve run out of arguments and I’m done hearing hers.”
“Ok.” You say getting up and moving around the table. “I think it’s worth a shot. There’s a saying where I’m from that goes, ‘it’ll all be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.’”
You give Wild a hug around his shoulder and squeeze him tight. “I have faith that you’ll pull through and get to live peacefully, but until then, you’ve got us on your side ok?”
He leans in your direction and wraps his arms around your own. “I know. I figured as much.”
“Good man.”
“I’m definitely sneaking out of here though.”
“That’s fair. Go hide.”
“I will... And thanks for listening to me. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Four
"I'm sorry, what?" Four snaps his head up to stare at the Champion.
"What?" Wild tilts his head. "What? There's no stuff in the grass in my Hyrule. Just crickets and lizards...you know normal stuff. I don't know why there's tools and rupees in all of yours."
"You don't-" Four cut himself off with a click of his teeth, a piece in his mind clicking into place. He stands suddenly, clearly upset and tense as he processes the information.
"Four?" You call out to him but he doesn't respond to you, nor does he look back.
"Four!" Hyrule calls as well. "Where are you going?"
No reply.
"I'll go with him. Just in case." You stand up in a rush and nearly knock over the equipment at your feet in the process. "Don't wait up for us."
You follow him.
Four is fast and quiet and it takes very little time to lose him- or rather, for him to lose you.
Before you knew it, there's no trace of him and there's nothing within the forest that would give you a hint to his whereabouts.
"Great." You hiss and look around.
Nothing.
"Four!" If he won't show himself, you'll just have to make some noise. "Four! Four! Show me a sign so I know you're not dead!"
You wait.
"Don't make me get Wolfie!"
Nothing.
"Four!" You scream a little louder and begin to run. Now that you've said it out loud, despite being a joke in the beginning, the thought of Four being dead somewhere spikes your panic and anxiety and it fuels your quest.
It's only been a few minutes and Four can handle himself just fine but you don't think about that.
"FOUR!"
"Why are you screaming?" A voice come just beyond you.
You sprint toward it and find Four in a small clearing, crouched down and appearing to hold something in the palm of his hand.
"I was calling you." You don't know how you find it in you scold him. "A response would have been nice."
"Sorry." He shrugs. "I was having a conversation, it would be rude to drop it."
You get on your tip toes to look around him and find nothing. "With... With what?"
Four looks down into his hand and places it, ever so gently, on the ground, pausing and standing up to see you. "You can't see them?"
"See who?" You step over to him. "Four? Are you ok?"
His face twists in annoyance before sighing. "I'm fine."
"No offence, but I doubt that."
"It... a group of creatures that can only be seen by good children. They were important on my quests and have helped me greatly. Children usually stop seeing them around the time when they turn sixteen."
"Would it be easy for me to chalk it all up to magic?" You bit your lip.
"Probably. If it'll help you sleep at night." Four sighs and looks down to the ground, a small smile on his lips before it twists into a painfully and... he looks seconds from crying.
"I did so much to help them... and they helped me.... They leave gifts in the grass to help travelers and us heroes alike and yet... Wild says it doesn't happen anymore..." Four gulps and looks away from you and what ever is by his foot. "They wouldn't stop.... They're incredibly kind and hospitable and... There's no reason for them... Why are they gone?"
"Four." You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.
"What happens to them?" His Adam's apple bobs a bit as he sucks in a breath. "It just means there was no one to help them."
"Oh Four." You pull him into a hug and nearly crush him with it.
"There's nothing I can do to help them, is there?" He sniffles into your chest.
"No, I... I don't think so Four. Not that far out into the future." You shake your head and begin to rub circles on his back.
You don't think he's crying but he might be fighting it because he does begin shaking.
He doesn't say anything else and you're loath to let him go when he's so emotionally charged. So you hold him. You hold him for as long as he needs and you wait for him to pull away first.
When he does, you keep your hands on his shoulders and he stays within your reach. Four begins to take deep calming breaths with his eyes closed and you instinctually run your hands through his bangs and push some of the loose hairs from his face.
Minutes continue to pass and the sounds of nature around you fill the void.
"I'm sorry." You say. "I wish I could help you but I don't know how."
Four nods and rubs his eyes. "I don't doubt that. Thank you. I'll be ok."
You don't think he's ready to go back to the group just yet, not after all that. "Tell me more about these friends of yours. How did they help you? How did you help them? What are they exactly?"
It earns you a small laugh and he grins up at you with a watery smile. "Sit down. And let me tell you about the Picori."
Twilight
“You almost died and for what?!” Twilight screams at Wild for the umpteenth time.
It startles you to hear his voice reach such volumes but you’re inclined to agree with him this time around. After Wild’s stunt with taking a hit to the head for Wind, you’d been on the look out for his more... self sacrificing behavior. You knew he wouldn’t think twice to do it and you tried to make it so there wouldn’t even be a chance for him to make such a decision.
This time though, in this last fight, you took your eyes off of him for only a moment and that’s when he broke his streak of uneventful fights.
Twilight, of course, is livid and has no regard for the poor creatures of the forest that have to endure his tirade as he unleashes his concern and worry in the form of rage and over exaggerated gestures.
When Hyrule finishes healing your more minor wounds, you slink away from the soon to be screaming match since Wild is very much still conscious, if a little roughed up. You don’t intended to stray as far as you go but you don’t find it in yourself to care for the time being.
Being around so many people for so long is taxing. You make the executive decision to remove yourself for the time being while tensions are high, to both cool off and to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.
There’s a small creek nearby, you find, and decide to make a small space for yourself there until dinner comes rolling around. The birds and the babbling waters calm your soul and snuffle out the last of the adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you can faintly hear the screaming match in the distance that you dipped out of.
You don’t regret it.
More time passes and you find that you may or may not have taken a small nap in the meantime. If the position of the sun is anything to go by.
Despite the pain in your back from sleeping against a tree, the slight ache in your neck from the angle you slept in, you feel better. Clearer, even.
You hope your absence wasn’t entirely noticed but you can’t seem to regret leaving either.
Footsteps creep closer to you and you huddle into a small ball out of habit to avoid detection.
It’s Twilight.
He walks near the creek and takes a heavy seat next to it. He looks both pale or red faced at the same time but exhaustion is laced in his entire body from what you can tell.
He doesn’t notice you.
You uncurl and set your legs out in front of you. Leaning forward a little, as quietly as you can, you see that he’s upset. It doesn’t surprise you. But seeing as you don’t how to deal with an upset Twilight and you can’t really sneak away without crossing his line of sight or making any miniscule noise, you still yourself and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Twilight calls your name. Quietly and hollow- like he’s not all there. Or in the way one would talk to a memory.
It’s immediately unsettling. Both in how he sounds and how he knew you were there without you doing anything. But you suppose Twilight can just sense things like that from times to time. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done it.
“I’m here.” You reply.
“How long?”
“A few hours I think. Longer than you were here that’s for sure.” You shrug and slowly crawl out of your hidey hole. “I think I fell asleep....The sun wasn’t over there when I first got here.”
Twilights hums in what you think is agreement but it’s really only a sound. “It’s a nice spot.”
You smile. It’s tense and little fake, but he’s not looking at you so you don’t care for authenticity. “Good thing it’s big enough for the both of us huh?”
“Yeah.” He looked into the distance again, noting that the sun is beginning to set and takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”
“Can’t say that I have.” You move closer to him, aiming to sit by his side. “I’ve always enjoyed sun sets and I find them calming to watch but hearing someone finding them sad is a new one. Do you feel sad as dusk falls?”
He hums again. “They say it’s the only time their world interacts with ours.”
“Whos?”
“Lingering spirits I suppose...” Twilight tilts his head upwards before twisting it to look at you. “It’s nothing. I’m just reminiscing about my life before my adventure is all. My... father told me those words and I haven’t forgotten them since.”
You hum this time and lean back to mirror him. “Wanna tell me why?”
“That Champion reminds me so much of myself and yet... he’s ten times worse.” Twilight falls backwards with a soft thump. “I know why he does it but I...”
“You care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” You shrug. “It’s not exactly a new concept.”
“Tell that to him.”
“Maybe I will. He gets just as upset as you do when this happens, you know.” You shift your weight to make it easier to stand up later.
“Does he? You’d think that he’d get the point to stop doing then.” He growls.
“Maybe he’s scared of losing more friends.” You blurt before you can stop yourself. That was something Wild told you in confidence and while he didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone- that was kinda implied.
Twilight stills for a moment, the fight leaving him again in a single breath as he considers your words. They don’t seem to be new news to him.
Wild is pretty close to Twilight...Maybe he already knew.
“I still think I’m entitled to not like it.” He settles.
“It’s not he’s asking you to be ok with it. I know I’m not.”
“I guess that’s fair then.” Twilight sits up again and stands up in one fluid motion that you envy. With a turn on his heel, he holds his hand out to you to take.
You take it and feel him effortlessly lift you off of the ground with that one hand.
You don’t comment on it.
“Come on.” He says. “I’m going to need you for moral support.”
“Why?”
“If I yelled in front of him of the whole group, I should apologize to him in front of the whole group.” He admits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “But I might need an excuse to get close to him again after all the things I’ve said.”
“I get your desert and you’ve got yourself a deal. I left to not get involved and here you are... involving me.” You tease. “I demand payment.”
“One desert? I can do that.”
Hyrule
“I can’t do this.” You snap your head to the sound of the voice and see Hyrule with his arms cross and shaking.
“What? What’s happening? Hyrule?” You step closer to him as you’re the only one within arms reach. “What do I need to do? How can I help?”
“There’s nothing. Nothing you can do, that can make this better.” Hyrule takes one ground step before throwing his arms down. “Don’t you see them? With all their tools and experience and then there’s- me. Just me. Some magic later and a old man with a sword and I found myself trying to save my princess and defeat some evil, but these guys...”
You look around, trying to see if Legend or Sky are close enough to give you back up, or better yet, take over. You suppose it’s better than a panic attack but it’s so left field that you’re stunned and floundering to catch this hot potato of a conversation.
He keep talking.
“For all that is good and holy, they are heroes. Do you see them? Some of them have training, and families and skills and I....was just a boy in a grave yard. How can I even compete with them? I don’t, that’s how. But how can they consider me an equal? When I was in town and listened to the elders and their stories, they would tell me of a legendary hero from the past who courageously defended our home until the very end and who was virtually undefeated in all his adventures. And then I meet Legend....and he’s so much cooler than all those stories combined.”
“Link.” You call out to him and back to the real world. “You need to slow down for me honey because you’re too fast for me to keep up. What do you mean how can they see you as an equal? You defeated Ganon just as they did. You stood up for your home just as they did. You did it all on your own just as they did. Why wouldn’t they consider you an equal? No one cares about where you’re from, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“But they can do so many things even without the sword!” He exclaims. “They all have a place to go to, a person who cares about them, a title or a skill and a world that’s not on the brink of collapse-”
“Ok, whoa, hey.” You step into his space and take his face into your hands, bringing it up for him to look you in the eyes.
“I have no idea what brought this up but I won’t stand for anyone talking bad about you. And that includes you. We... can talk about your home with clearer heads later, ok? Maybe the others can help with that when we get there, yeah? And well....” You’re sinking. You don’t know what to do with all this information and you have even less of an idea about how to address it.
“Good golly, when it rains, it pours with you lot, doesn’t it?” You hiss under your breath and bite the bullet. With a strong grip, you wrap your arms around the Traveler and pull him close. You try to keep your grip strong without fear of hurting him, but it hits you then how thin he is. How light he actually is. You can feel the hint of armor under his tunic and it does little to quell your fears.
“Clearly there’s a lot on your mind. And... I’m probably not the person to help you through this. If you want to talk about not belonging though, I’m free to listen. I’m the only one here who’s not a Link, if you haven’t noticed.” You try to joke but it falls a little flat. “You though... You belong here with all of us... all of them... And if you need more convincing then I’m bringing this up with Legend who’s is over the moon proud of you and what you can do and he told me himself that he couldn’t be happier to have you as his successor-”
“Really?”
“Not in those exact words admittedly,-” You gulp as the word vomit continues to bubble out of you in waves of panic. “-but I know that’s what he meant because he doesn’t stop talking about how cool you are.”
“Hm.”
“And everyone has a different background, ok? Everyone has skills and people that the others don’t have. That’s ok. It’s not a competition. I get worried that one day you guys are going to create some game out of all your trauma. Like... who had it worse and just go around in a circle listing off all the things that happened to each of you... Whoever runs out of things to say or can’t think of something as bad or worse than the others is out. Last man standing wins.”
“Don’t give them ideas.” You feel him chuckle. It’s breathless and small and it doesn’t reach your ears despite your closeness but you feel it.
“Good thing it’s just you and me right now.” You sigh a little in relief and loosen the hug. “Look, just.....whatever you think you can’t do, just know that there is someone who is confidently doing it wrong right now. In the group or not, just keep your eyes and watch. They don’t plan on doing it better either and people are celebrating them for it. Please believe in your own excellence as much as they believe in their mediocrity.”
“Big words.”
“You’re awesome for trying. Others are not and don’t plan to. You’re already better than them.” You amend, stepping away to look him in the eye again. “The group can’t do magic like you can. That’s all you. They all have items sure but no one can do what you do... and you’re self taught, right? That’s incredible! You have just as much as a reason to be here as the others. I swear it.”
Hyrule sighs and gulps. He doesn’t believe you. It’s not enough.
You knew it wouldn’t be and it’s definitely doesn’t scratch the tip of the iceberg of the bomb he just dropped on you but... step by step. Little by little. you have a plan.
“Screw it. Let’s catch up with Wind and Warrior and get them to tell you how awesome you are, since you won’t listen to me. And if you’re still a nonbeliever then we move on to the next pair. We’ll go down the line if we have to.” You nod and grab his hand, beginning to drag him along.
He laughs after you, a little hysterical and in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”
“That is not new information.” You reply, hiding your grin. “I say it’s Hyrule loving hours and I’m gonna get everyone to join.”
“You’re not joking are you.” It’s a statement. He already knows the answer.
“Nope!”
Legend
It was your turn on watch for the night. In an hour or two you were supposed to wake the Veteran for his shift and finally catch some sleep.
The others snored and slept away without a care in the world. It was just you and cackling fire that was active but you’d kill for something to help your mind get passed the boredom.
Anything but monsters or an attack that is. You’d hate to jinx your good luck so far.
In the corner of your eye, while fighting to keep your head up, you see Legend shift. Not necessarily unusual. You’re inclined to ignore it.
But then he shifts again, whimpering like he’s been hurt and a white knuckled grip on the blanket.
You still and begin to wonder what’s your level of care here.
Part of you, in kindness, wants to go wake him. The lack of sleep seems more merciful than letting him suffer a prison of his own making.
But you also don’t know how he’ll react.
You know he’d hate to be seen as weak for whatever normal reason and he’s been inclined to wake up swinging in the right circumstance.
Twilight suffered a broken nose for the whole night because he was disinclined to wake up Hyrule or take a potion.
Not you’d make the same decision and suffer the whole night in the same manner but it certainly fails to sound appealing.
Just as your about to appeal to your better nature and force yourself to go wake him before it gets worse, he shoots up into a sitting position with a strangled scream. The job seems to have been done for you- but in the worse way.
He’s breathing hard with his hand gripping his chest. Legend begins to frantically look around and slowly begins to piece together where he is and what’s happened. He never looks behind him, where you are, before running a hand through his hair a little harder than you think reasonable and getting to his feet.
You cough slightly, leaning away from the fire and back into previous position. You hadn’t realized you leaned into his direction as you watched him, inches from putting your face into the flame.
He startles at the sound and whips around, one hand poised to reach the sword he’s not equipped with.
“It’s just me.” You wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He calms somewhat and you can see his jaw flex. “Well, goodnight to you.”
His voice is croaked- from disuse or an overwhelming emotion, you’re not sure.
“For me maybe. But you? That was quite a scare you gave me as well.” You play it off. You can at least pretend that you weren’t watching him. That you would have saved him a little earlier and took your sweet time doing it. You offer a peace offering to your morals. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” He snaps, furiously rubbing his face. “It’s nothing new. We all deal with it one way or another.”
“True. But it’ll be easier to let it go, and let the experience float up into the air and never return. Otherwise it’ll fester and grow.” You shrug. “But I won’t force you. I know you’re not exactly fond of me.”
Legend glares into the fire as you talk and refuses to look at you. Once you finish though, he moves his head away, still not in your direction but visually drops more tension from his shoulders.
He doesn’t say anything.
“There’s a spot next to me with your name on it if you want it.” You offer. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”
He takes more time to respond and you resolve to go back to staring at the fire.
A moment or two passes and you hear the faint sound of crunched foliage. It takes of your will power to not look up as he approaches and even more so when he decidedly sits next to you.
The fabric of his tunic brushes your leg for a minute and it strikes you odd that he sat that close despite the rest of the log at his disposal.
It must have been bad if he wants to be close to someone right after. The thought enters your mind. Once it’s there you don’t chase it away and instead casually lean back with your hand behind you.
If the angle causes you to lean closer to him in the process, you don’t say anything.
And if Legend notices, he doesn’t say anything either.
A moment of time passes in silence, the only sounds through the whole forest are crickets and a passing owl with the occasional whisper through the trees.
“How do you do it?” He asks.
“Do what?” You tilt your head in his direction.
He’s still not looking at you.
“Keep going.”
The answer shocks momentarily but you’re not surprised that it’s coming from him out of the whole group. “Legend-”
“I’m tired.” He says instead. “I hate this. I hate that sword. I hate that pig demon. I hate that I can’t be done.”
You hand comes up to his shoulder and you force him to look at you.
He lets you and he looks up to you with tears building up in his eyes and for a moment you’re struck by the odd balance of how old he sounds but how young he looks- is.
You stuck floundering for a response to answer him with but he asks one more thing. “Why can’t I be done?”
You pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t know Link.”
You find yourself wanting to cry as well once Legend collapses into the hug. He’s not hugging you back but he’s being held for the first time in... you don’t know how long. Your grip tightens.
“But I do know is that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And maybe....maybe this is the final fight. That’s why we’re all together right? A darkness so evil ahead that every hero is required and then....rest. For each and every one of you.”
You sniffle, carding your fingers through his hair without a moments hesitation. “If it’s not then I’ll fight everything for you from then on. I’ll take your place you hear me. I’ll take your job and title and you won’t have to do this anymore.”
“I’m the Hero of Legend. That’s not exactly an easy thing-”
“No. I am the hero now. I’ve decided it.” You hide the tears in his hair to the best of your ability.
Legend snorted, loud and wet but you elected to ignore it just as you were ignoring the ever growing wet spot on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“It does now. I said so.”
A beat.
“...Ok.” He sniffled and rubbed his head on your shirt. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the night take over the atmosphere again. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
He nods once, definitive and final. Your expecting him to let go now and return to his roll, already electing to take over his shift as well and just push through the next day.
Except he doesn’t.
Legend calls your name, testing the waters and lifts his head up ever so slightly. “...It’s not that I’m... not... fond of you-”
“Save it for a rainy day.” You grin. “I think you’ve had your fill of emotions for the night.”
He nods and eventually slips into sleep with his head on your chest, no doubt lulled by your heartbeat.
With tearful eyes, you stare back into the fire.
Time
Time marched from the stunned group the same way a parent does after making a scathing remark instead of a lecture.
You know the one.
“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”
The poor boys suddenly didn’t know what to so with themselves or how to get back into Time’s good graces.
You felt for them and their awkward meandering through the camp. So, with your pride swallowed, you follow in the vague direction where Time went off to and decided to at least talk him down.
He is... decidedly harder to find than you previous imagined.
Just as your starting to think the Old Man doesn’t want to be found, you hear subtle swing. It’s to your left and it sounds heavy.
So naturally you follow it
Which leads you to a small clearing just beyond a bunch of bushes.
Time is there, full armor still on and swinging his giant sword forcefully, each swing stronger than the last. It’s as if it weighs only as much as Four. You’ve wondered in the past what it would like if he decided to actually throw the smallest ones of the group but out of fear, do not voice your ideas.
Just because Time won’t doesn’t mean that the others won’t try.
It’s hard being the responsible one when there are nine Links to take care of, each as much as a gremlin as the last. It must be hell on Time’s back to carry the group.
You see where he’s coming from and yet...
“You can stand to be a little more patient with them.”
The words are out of your mouth before you can actually stop them.
Time stops abruptly, in both the figurative and literal sense, before the man turns to you with that same face of neutral disappointment.
“They are heroes.”
“They are also children, Time. I think that it’s because they are heroes that they deserve to act their age every now and then.”
“Slacking won’t divert the evil away from our home.”
“Running face first into the problem won’t solve it either.” You sigh and walk up the man. He tenses as you approach and slowly lets his weapon down. The Hero of Time is an intimidating creature but you refuse to let that dissuade you.
“Look, I know why you’re upset. I get it. It’s hard to get a job done when you feel like you’re the only one it’s important to... But have a little faith in our group. Please.” You plead and stop right in front of him. You have to look up at him slightly due to the angle but he was forced to acknowledge you here.
His arms cross and he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.
“You’re right, they are heroes and there is a job to be done and an evil to be done away with. But they were even younger when they earned the title. They still vanquished the darkness even for their age. You have to trust that they will do the same here.” You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, getting onto your tip toes to look him in the eye better. “And they will. Because they are heroes. Because they have the spirit of courage. Because they are Link... Just like you.”
He softens his stance ever so slightly but he still doesn’t look pleased.
“It’s not easy I know.” You get down again. “But they look up to you. I think all of them do. And I can’t stand to see how hurt they look when you get upset when they act their age. It’s not like they can help it.”
He takes a deep breath and uncrossed his arms. He takes a minute to respond. Time stared at you intensely before he drops all the tension in his body and finally lets his weapon go. A single hand comes up to pat your head.
“Let’s head back to camp.”
He says nothing else and continues to walk past you and back the way you came.
You don’t ignore the sense of accomplishment and refuse to dampen it when you catch the tiniest slivers of a smile before he turns away from you completely.
Wind
You’re lying peacefully on the dirt when you hear someone sit beside you with more power than would ever be needed.
You don’t open your eyes for the sake of the other person, not really thinking much of it and even forgetting that they were there until you heard the smallest of sniffles.
Now, you’re sitting straight up with wide and concerned eyes locking directly onto the crying form of your beloved pirate.
It’s hard not to feel for him and while you’re not sure what sprung this up, you don’t have it in you to turn him away, or to ignore that he was upset.
Neither of you say anything and you’re almost afraid it make the picture in front of you a little too real.
Instead, you move yourself closer to him and open up your arms.
Wind doesn’t hesitate to throw himself onto you and let his body sag with unwanted emotion.
As sobs silently rack his body, you begin to feel yourself rock back and forth for both his comfort and yours. Soon you start running your hands through his hair and rub small circles on his back.
He cries for a long time and never once gives you a clue why.
You don’t ask either.
Still, once the moment has passed, you continue to hold onto him. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of you any time soon and you’re happy to be there for as long as he’ll let you.
That doesn’t stifle your concern over the cause but you’re loath to bring it up.
Minutes pass with the boy in your arms and it’s only when you shift positions, does he look up at your face. His eyes aren’t as red anymore with the amount of time that’s passes since he’s stopped crying but his face is still a little puffy and his cheeks are both stained in tears and incredibly red.
A small smile creeps onto your face when you look back at him. “Feel better?”
“A little.” He admits and sniffles the last of the tears away, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”
“For you? Anytime.”
Warrior
It struck you as odd that it was dinner time the group seemed to be missing someone.
Earlier that day the group had split up to take down some troublesome monsters on the border of some tiny town defenseless town and that was that.
It didn’t seem like big deal nor was it a particularly hard thing to do. The monsters weren’t infected and they didn’t have numbers on their side so your group took care of the pests in a matter of moments.
And yet, when everyone regrouped there was a visible tension.
Some thing had happened on the other side of the fight and no one wanted to fess up, even less so when Time mentioned it.
It worried you.
Now, as it stood the tension was still there but Warrior didn’t want to come out of the wood work. He had left earlier claiming to need to check up on his appearance and no one had questioned him. No one offered to go with him.
It was always dangerous to go alone.
“Hey, has anyone seen Warrior?” You glance around again, hoping it was just a miscount on your part. “It’s been awhile since he left.”
“He takes his sweet time.” Legend snapped. “And you know how narcissistic he is. He’s probably trying to get every single little hair in the right place and working out every little blemish in his stupid uniform-”
“I’m going to look to him.” You stand, placing your cooling food down by your foot. You don’t know what happened or what caused it but at least an idea begins to form. “It’s been too long regardless. Keep my food warm for me, yeah?”
You don’t wait for a response and walk away into the tree line where you think Warrior might be.
“It’s getting dark. Be careful.” Someone calls from behind you, mouth clearly full of food.
“Yes sir.” You reply.
You march on.
When you’re sure you’re far enough away, you begin to call out to Warrior.
It takes a minute to get any results but you’re starting to worry about your friend. The sun is lowering in the horizon as time goes by and you’re beginning to feel silly and frustrated and-
“I’m here.” A tired voice replies.
“Oh thank goodness.” You cross the distance between you two. “I was really starting to worry.”
Warrior puts on a brave face and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes greets you when you stop in front of him. His look a little puffy and you think his eyes might be a little red but it easily be the lighting- or lack there of.
“Are you ok?”
“Obviously.”
You doubt him and it must have shown on your face because he immediately begins walking away. “Well look at the time. Crazy how fast the sun goes. Let’s get back to the group and eat. I’m starving-”
You grab his wrist as he pasts you and get a good look at him. “Are you ready to go back to the group? They can wait a little longer if you want them too.”
It irritated you that it’s come to this. How no one went to check on him. How no one offered to go with you. How no one seemed bothered by this. How long that he was alone dealing with something that’s been bothering him. How it took you so long to do something.
“No. It’s fine.” He says. Lying. It must have really bothered him, usually he’s better than this. “It’s about time to head back anyway.”
“They can wait.” Your grip tightens. “The sun can wait. We’re not obligated to be there. What’s wrong? ...If you want to talk about it that is...” You trail off uselessly. It only occurred to you that near the end that he may not even speak about with you. You weren’t the closest in terms of grouping but you can’t stand the thought of someone hurting alone.
“I’m fin-”
“You look like you were crying.” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine, just say it. But you might need more time before you head back anyway if you actually want them to believe you when you say you’re fine.”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.
“Warrior?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“If it bothers you then it’s not nothing.” You push. “But....fine. I won’t force you to talk to me. I just wanted to see if you were ok... You’re not but it’s better than seeing you bleeding I suppose.” You grit your teeth, annoyed by the lack of results. You did tell him that he didn’t have to talk to you and you don’t hurt him further but part of you wants to fix this. Even if you don’t know what it is, your heart calls for justice at his pain.
But he is unwilling.
“Camp is this way by the way.” You mention, looking at the ground. “You were actually farther away than I thought, so it’s a bit of a walk.”
“I just think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”
You still and slowly turn to face him.
He’s looking at the ground as well, unable to say it and look you in the eye. It’s not what you were expecting and you’re not sure how to follow after that.
It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him- even rarer that he’s showing it to you and you don’t want to squander the show of trust.
“Back home...there was a lot of... attention on me. A lot of blame... for starting the war. Or at least being the cause of it.” He admits, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. A little bit kicks up and sticks to the toe. He does nothing about it. “People listened to what I had to say because I was some destined hero. At first I didn’t think anything of it because I had thought it was one big mistake and sooner or later people were going to see that I was just some soldier not worth the time of day. It happened to be pure luck that Impa got it right when she gave me this uniform. Zelda made me a captain because of it and suddenly I had all of these men I had to give orders to. And if anything failed or if we lost, it would all have fallen on me. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of the war...and then we found out why Cia was even opening these portals to begin with-”
You hug him.
“Please don’t cry.” You say into his chest. Your throat is tight and it a little hard to breath but you power through. “I’m not good at this. I never have been.”
“I’m not going to cry. It’s not worth crying.”
“I’ll cry for you then.” You admit and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was no ones fault.” Warrior hugs you back and rests his head on top of yours. His voice seems a little tight too and you’re sorry for all the things that he must have gone through.
You hug him for as long as you deem appropriate before letting your arms go lack and stepping away.
Or... at least you try to.
Warrior suddenly has a grip on you and refuses to let you leave.
“Please... Just stay a little longer.”
You do.
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#I had no idea where exactly to go with this one#believe it or not I wrote Legends first.#I didn't know it would get as long as it did#are these a bit generic?#yes.#warrior's is also very long#sorry not sorry#should I have split this one?#probably.#did I?#no.#it took days ya'll#next time I'll split it again
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Petal
college!sebastian stan x reader
masterlist
Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one
Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff
divider by @firefly-graphics
Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.
It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.
He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.
But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.
From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.
Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.
Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.
Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"
"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.
"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.
And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.
"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."
“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.
“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.
The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.
It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.
Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.
They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.
Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.
“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.
That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.
Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.
He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.
People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.
It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.
"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.
"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.
"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.
"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.
"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.
"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his
"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.
"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.
“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”
“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.
“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.
“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”
“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.
“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.
“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.
“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”
You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.
“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.
“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.
It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.
And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”
With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.
Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“
He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.
He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.
It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.
In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”
“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.
“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”
#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fluff#Sebastian Stan x reader smut#sebastian stan fic#sebastian stan au#sebastian stan oneshot#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan reader#imagines#imagine#xreader#marvel actors x reader#marvel cast x you#marvel cast smut#mcu cast smut#mcucastxreader#marvel smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader smut
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idk if requests are open, or if this even counts as a request or more of a prompt for u to ramble, but how do you think mozart and theodorus would react to an mc who used to be friendly towards them pulling away, and finding out somehow that it's because they were too hostile and mc gave up (in the context of them secretly liking mc and being tsundere jerks). tysm in advance!!
Requests are open! I talk about just about anything ikevamp related on this blog, so nws in regards to that~
I guess I took this as a prompt to ramble so hopefully you enjoy this meme energy 💛💛💛💛
And well, I'm a little conflicted about this one--largely because I see two possible (most likely) outcomes. I think it depends on their feelings for the MC in question, as I get the vibe that they are willing to make the effort if they deem it worthwhile in the long run (perhaps a bit callous, but hey, what can I say). If they feel they can't see eye to eye with the MC long term, then I doubt they would pursue the matter much further.
If there is enough grounding for them to want to salvage the relationship, I think they would both make some effort to make amends tbh. They may have trouble saying it directly, but I guess I see them as men of action--they'll adjust their behavior, and that speaks volumes. Maybe they hesitate before something harsher slips, changing the course of what they were going to say. Maybe they smooth over a mistake she makes before anyone can notice, saving her that social discomfort. Maybe they don't nitpick what she does anymore, just note adjustments neutrally (the tonal difference of "you clod, you're going to ruin it if you hold it that way" versus "try holding it like this, it's easier to carry and poses less risk of damage if you drop it"). I guess my impression is that they tend to be subtle when it comes to their emotional landscape; if you don't pay close attention, you could miss it.
But. BUT. If you point out any difference in their behavior. They will look away and scowl/blush which is frankly, beyond hilarious (but don't do it too much or they'll get mad, you gotta go for the spicy moments to expose them italian hand thing). I imagine that, whether they admit it or not, they do notice if you see past the surface and appreciate that you care they're trying. It helps them move from very acerbic to a more lowkey kind of pragmatism that's less biting. Tbh I'm just a shithead and would probably tease them to near death because I'm very familiar with that sort of behavior, but I also understand not everyone is comfortable with that ;;;
I think it’s less that they refuse to make amends for troublesome behavior, and more that they have a lot of paralyzing shame associated with honesty (and they don’t much like being vulnerable ;;;;). For Theodorus, I think he’s deeply traumatized by how hard his brother tries to be a good and fair person, only to remain ridiculed and ignored by the people around him at large. There’s a sense of a male culture dominated by the concept that gentleness is only an extension of weakness, and as such he feels the need to overcompensate to defend Vincent. The rough exterior serves both as an insistence that he is a grown man (parental infantilization) but also to demand people’s respect, ripping them to verbal shreds when he sees fit for survival.
Mozart’s is more obviously a defense mechanism; he rejects people and sees the worst in them before they can do that to him. I don’t think he’s as malicious by nature as he seems. I think it’s more that he’s accustomed to and self-imposes impossible standards of self-control. The emotional repression, terrible (also unpredictable) experiences at the hands of his father as a boy genius, and relentless inability to see his own value separated from his work ethic results in a man who is inevitably dissociated from his reality. He has no concept of worth beyond functionality, and no concept of worth beyond giving to a self-emptying extent. So much of his life is a kind of hyperanxious denial and paranoid shame, and it’s a pity considering his immense potential for warmth and love.
I suppose I get the inclination that they both really just need to be slapped upside the head a little ahlskfjdhsgsfdkhj. I'm not typically one that likes that method of getting through to people, but it's an unfortunate result of some forms of abuse. Sometimes people need very direct and very intense rearranging of their face holes to see the limited nature of their perspectives. Though I will say context matters: some people need very gentle, some people need more persistent measures.
(Please note: sometimes people do not want to change, and if they don’t want to, they won’t--that’s just a waste of time imo. No amount of arguing or altruism will get through in that scenario ;;;;;; but since this is an otome it’s easier to give the benefit of the doubt. Honestly I find myself torn a lot because I don't? Like giving up on people who struggle with things like that. But at the same time, I don't necessarily think it's worthwhile to beg for someone to be kinder/more aware when they have zero desire to.)
I can't really speak to Theodorus as much but I think somebody who is with him would have to be somebody who is less put off by his jagged edges ;;;;;;;; I don't think it's wrong to be sensitive to it, but the reality is that he has a hard time toning it down sometimes because of his habits. It's a part of being with him, though I think he softens considerably over time in a relationship. I see it is as a kind of balancing act. His s/o would have to be firm about the times he's well and truly unfair, goes too far with what he says/does. And his s/o would likely need to let go or just tease him about the more harmless nonsense, taking it in stride. It's about knowing when to throw a punch and when to breeze by (float like a butterfly, sting like a bee).
Mozart I'm ngl is just Pride and Prejudice material, Mr.Darcy ass. He literally just needs somebody who will read him for utter filth in the classiest way possible, until he has no choice but to strut on his walk of shame saying "you dropped this, queen 👑". I find it a little funny because as long as you roast him in a true way, half the time he isn’t even mad, just sheepish. I find him to be a unique case between the two of them because he's more guarded than reactive. As soon as he knows his s/o is willing to hear him out and talk to him if they have some kind of misunderstanding, he doesn't really go for the throat anymore. Just gets kind of 👉👈, needs some time to figure out how to broach the topic (or Jeanne slides in to mediate a little bit). His development is more of a slow upward track to more normal and very affectionate interaction.
Of the two, I think Mozart might be the best bet for the type of person you mentioned. He has a lot of capacity for responding with penitence when it's due, and acknowledging when he messes up. Theo needs a lot of control, and I think it's fair if some people can't handle the overbearing nature of it at points.
#ikevamp#ikemen vampire#ikevamp mozart#ikevamp theo#ikevamp theodorus#you know i think about this a lot only because#sometimes i don't really realize how intimidating they are to people??? i just see them as clowns HAHAHAHA#i feel for yall i mean its not really something everyone is comfortable with so **pats**#ideally they'll be understanding#worst case they'll just avoid and drown themselves in their work#can we get an F in the chat#i hope this was helpful/entertaining! <3333#always welcome here lovely~#and ill be getting to those theo requests today so theyll be up soon~#i started binging a kdrama and there went my attention span for the week LMFAO#not incorrect quotes#rambles
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Missing - Part 4.1
Remember the something bad coming I mentioned before?
This is that.
Fencing practice the next day had been a bit more intense. Fortunately, Kagami had been a perfect opponent to go all out with. She seemed to notice his emotional state and reacted in kind. Which he appreciated, certainly. Adrien had needed to work off the stress and anxiety from the previous incident with Lila.
It hadn’t helped that Plagg had also been unusually agitated that morning. He wouldn’t say what was going on, but he had told Adrien that they needed to see Master Fu immediately.
Plagg...had never gotten like that. Adrien didn’t understand what was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed quite serious. So he had bit back any complaint about the early morning or his schedule and attempted to reach Master Fu by phone. Unfortunately, it had gone to voicemail after several rings, and they couldn’t be sure if it was that Fu had been asleep or otherwise occupied. While Adrien had offered to find time to go to Fu’s place that day once there was a break in his schedule, Plagg insisted that whatever was going on couldn’t wait, and had decided to go to the man’s home himself.
Adrien wasn’t about to refuse Plagg if he felt it was truly necessary to go, but he felt anxious without his kwami and he still wasn’t back yet. He only hoped that there wouldn’t be another akuma attack before he returned.
He hoped everything was okay…
But at least Kagami was there. Both to challenge him physically and to support him when he explained what happened afterwards.
“So you came clean to them?“ Kagami asked, seated on a bench in the locker room as she listened to Adrien talk about what had happened.
He nodded, coming back to the present and admittedly still somewhat shaken from the entire ordeal the day before. “They deserved to know.“
“And how did they take it?“ While he certainly warranted some reprimand for the poor decision he had made on the matter, he did not deserve to be ostracized or blamed for the mess. Lila’s actions were her own, and while each of them held responsibility for their part in falling for her manipulations and the weakness that allowed her to get as far as she did, ultimately Lila was the only one to blame for her actions. With everything so recent and still so raw, the last thing they needed to have happen was for someone else to be made a scapegoat, which was still a possibility now that Lila was no longer present to take the brunt of their anger. Kagami knew the class was made of generally kind souls, but people could do regretful things in anger.
She for one was not inclined to sit by and allow him to be made into the villain for a situation he was not fully responsible for, and her tightening grip on her foil was indicative of that.
“They weren’t happy with me. They still aren’t. And I don’t blame them, really.“ He admitted. He had been kicking himself ever since his initial talk with Nino for...a lot of reasons, really. Having friends really helped with getting insight and other perspectives. And helped him notice things he hadn’t before.
“But what it comes down to is that even if we knew or suspected that Lila wasn’t being honest, none of us truly realized the depths of just how manipulative she could be.” Not until it was all laid out for them at any rate.
“Even when she snuck into your house and sent out that picture?“ Kagami asked, keeping her voice level.
He winced at the memory of the cause of her akumatization. But still...
“That was rotten of her, and I warned her afterwards.” He took a breath, realizing that his school friends hadn’t been the only ones hurt because of this. This just served as another reminder of his failure to act. “I should have done more then. I’m sorry, Kagami.”
She frowned, not necessarily pleased, but not angry either. “What was the reasoning then?” She asked. Because even if she didn’t agree with it, she knew he at least had some view that led to the choice he made.
He winced. “Honestly, that was the sort of thing I would see of a more extreme fangirl. But lying to police to try and keep someone from getting help is a whole new level of low. And one I thought she actually would not stoop to.” He frowned, looking up at Kagami. “Does that make me foolish?”
“Yes.” She replied bluntly. “You at least knew that she was capable of underhanded things. And when you know a tiger’s stripes, you should know what to expect.”
He winced and looked away, guiltily. “I know. Or—I didn’t? I just...”
She decided to take pity on him.
“That said,” She added, drawing his attention back to her. “While you may know a tiger’s stripes, that does not necessarily mean you would be able to see them in the wild.”
He smiled bitterly. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Yes.” She admitted bluntly. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”
He sighed. “I still should have done something then. I knew she was capable of bad things. There was no excuse for not warning anyone at least.” He gave a sad laugh. “I can’t even imagine how Marinette must have felt when I told her to leave things alone.”
Adrien hesitated, coming to a realization.
“I think I’ve been doing that a lot...” He admitted. “I did the same thing to her when it came to Chloe when she was being her worst.”
“I cannot speak regarding Chloe.” Kagami stated, and she couldn’t given her limited interaction with the bratty daughter of the mayor. Anything she had to say about the girl would likely be far from helpful and only get them off track. “But if I may ask...why keep putting it on Marinette then when you knew she wasn’t in the wrong?“
He shrugged, despondent and uncertain.
“I just felt safer with her.” He answered.
He was used to being friends with Chloe. Where he had been expected to give her what she wants. Whether it was completing whatever task she demanded of him or tell her what she wanted to hear.
Telling her what she wanted to hear...even if it wasn’t true.
But Marinette...
“I knew Marinette would listen to me. And she’s been good with reaching out and giving chances.”
When two parties were arguing, one of them needed to be willing to offer an olive branch if they were to reconcile and make things better. But so far, Marinette was the only one he could see in that role. The only one capable of it, to be honest.
Heaven knew how often she intervened for their classmates. She’d stood up for them, but she had also been willing to put her own feelings aside to come to a compromise. After all, she had helped Chloe more than once. Even in spite of everything Chloe had done.
“My thoughts were that if I could get Marinette to listen and agree, others would follow suit. And there could be compromise. But that was an unfair burden to keep putting on her and I ignored that there were times she shouldn’t have had to be the one to reach out first. And when Lila came along…”
He shrugged, helplessly.
“In a weird way, I thought I was supporting her by encouraging her to not fight back.”
That turned out to be a mistake. One that had hurt everyone.
It was never that she didn’t matter as much as anyone else, or that she was less important than keeping the peace. It was just that out of everyone, she was the only one who would take that first step and he knew that. He knew it wasn’t fair to keep putting such responsibility on her. But there was no one else he could count on to help or mediate things. And he just didn’t want the class to fall apart.
He kept telling himself he would make it up to her and that he would support her when she needed it, but he wasn’t the most observant of people and Marinette always seemed so strong, like she’d never needed his help.
“I wasn’t being fair to her.“
The fact that he knew Marinette could handle things did not necessarily mean that she should be expected to be the one to have to, or that he should expect her to.
Kagami hummed to her self, thinking for a moment.
“Did you consider that the longer Lila Rossi was allowed to continue on, the more hurt other people would be once her lies were revealed?“
He winced.
“Or did you think they would be revealed at all?“
He sighed and slowly nodded. “At the start, her lies seemed frivolous and only meant to make herself look better. I had figured that either she would get comfortable and stop, or that people would lose interest in listening to her.”
She nodded, considering. “It was a reasonable assumption, albeit an erroneous one.“
He looked away and nodded. “It was a mistake on my part for assuming that much. I wanted to believe that people can get better and learn from their mistakes. And I keep wanting to give second chances, even in situations where I really shouldn’t.”
He knew now that Lila went beyond that.
“Why I let it happen was a combination of a lot of reasons really. I thought she would quit on her own. I thought people would get tired of listening to her. I thought that she would come clean herself. I thought, if nothing else, people would catch on to her lies. I had so many reasons behind my decision, but at the end of the day, it was the choice I made and I will never know what would’ve happened if I had simply told someone sooner. Maybe this could’ve been avoided.”
“But there’s no point lingering on the possibilities of different decisions now that the moment for them has passed.“ She pointed out.
He gave her a slight smile at that. “Yeah. While we all feel bad about it, wallowing in that isn’t going to change anything at this point. We’ve decided to keep our focus on trying to find Marinette. And if nothing else, the reveal of Lila will ensure she can’t sabotage our efforts anymore.”
“Has there been any luck?“
“Alya said she found something. Nino and I are going to talk to her tonight to go over what she’s learned. Maybe she found something that could help?“
“How are things with them?” She asked.
“They’re doing all right. Better than they were with Lila around. The others were really forgiving.” More than he honestly felt he deserved.
Kagami seemed satisfied with that. “They are good friends. If you try to talk to them, they will listen.”
He frowned, a bit frustrated but it seemed to be mostly with himself. “I know.”
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s something wrong, or if something is troubling you, then you should be free tocommunicate it. If nothing else, it can allow you to get a second opinion on a Point of concern. And in many cases you can share information that other people may not know.“
He smiled at her gratefully.
She smiled back.
“One of the common mistakes in fencing is to hesitate and miss an opportunity to act. Once the moment is over, it’s too late. But if nothing else, you at least have the knowledge for next time.”
“I know.” He agreed. “It’s why I want to help find Marinette. I want to be able to apologize to her in person…and reassure her that things will be better now.”
He clenched his fists.
“She deserves that much, at least.”
Because she was…
To him she was…
Kagami nodded in understanding.
“Marinette is a good friend.” She stated. “If there is any way I could help, I would like to try.”
He smiled.
“Thank you, Kagami.”
______________________
Another day came with another search party. The available classmates gathered in another attempt to try to locate their missing friend. Unfortunately, life goes on even when it feels like the world should stop turning. As such, not all of them were able to make it this day.
Adrien had fencing, and with his hectic schedule and strict expectations, he couldn’t afford to keep missing appointments or he’d lose any freedom to help in the search. Max was busy with a project and was thus unable to join the group on what was steadily becoming a new after school activity of searching the city for any clues. Nathaniel needed to do chores and help his dad at home. Mylene wasn’t feeling well and nobody wanted to risk her coming down with a cold or other illness. Kim had swim practice followed by a date, and it didn’t feel fair to make him give up something positive that made him happy on a search that would likely leave them all feeling drained and depressed.
Chloe was...well, Chloe. And while she had been surprisingly willing to step up and pull a major victory against Lila when it mattered, that one good deed didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t still her usual self absorbed self. And it certainly didn’t mean that she was willing to traverse around Paris in the cold for who knows how long on behalf of someone she has expressed nothing but dislike for. She made it clear she would be spending her afternoon in warmth and comfort.
Sabrina, naturally, went with her. Though she had wished the group luck with their search.
This left Alya and Nino, along with the members of Kitty Section for the search. To Alya’s surprise, this meant they were joined by Luka as well.
“Luka? You helping out as well?” Nino greeted.
Luka hefted his guitar on his back and nodded. “ I heard you were looking and I wanted to help out anyway I could.”
In normal circumstances, Alya would be gleeful at the show of concern by a cute guy for her friend and the sign of at least one of her ships moving forward. But as sweet as the gesture was, it was really just a reminder of the fact that her friend was still missing, so whatever joy she felt was short-lived.
She shivered.
Chloe did have a point though. As it was getting later into the year, the days were getting colder. It only made her all the more concerned that her friend could be out on the streets in winter.
It was all the more reason to find her sooner. And she straightened, bringing out her phone and planning to do just that.
Alya had spent most of the night and well into the early hours of the morning going through the data Max gave her regarding Marinette’s phone.
What she found was....strange.
The phone itself was gone. Possibly turned off. However, the signal was still there. It was blurry. Seemingly fading in and out, inconsistent, and frequently moving. But it was there.
The data showed the status of Marinette’s phone and its location over the past weeks. Which was…weird, to say the least. The signal was abnormally weak. And didn’t seem to stick to one set location which she would have expected if the phone had been lost. No, if anything, it seemed to be...almost roaming?
Which didn’t make sense. If she was kidnapped, the kidnappers surely would have tossed the phone. And if it had just been left somewhere while being left on, it still should have run out of battery by now.
Instead, it just...sort of kept cutting in and out at random. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it.
But what had caught Alya’s attention was just when and where this strange status first started, which she had decided would be the location of their search for the day.
The others followed her, letting her lead the way while they chatted amicably with one another. Alya only half paid attention to what they were saying, her focus primarily on her phone and the map it was showing.
“It’s getting colder out, huh?”
“Anyone want to grab a hot chocolate after this? Maybe just as a pick me up after the search?”
“That sounds nice! What do you think, Juleka?”
“I’m in.”
“Hey Luka, is it really a good idea to bring your guitar out here for this?“
“It helps me think. And besides, you never know when it might be needed.“
“I guess.”
Alya, for her part, only half minded the conversation behind her as she led the group to the last known location of Marinette’s phone before it started doing...this. This strange fuzzy image that didn’t seem to be all there.
Unfortunately, the map icon was only able to narrow down the location so much. She was able to find the general area Marinette had been in last, but the specific place...
She looked around.
Strangely, the map led her to a somewhat out of the way area. It was a normal street. Shops of various kinds were lined up along the sidewalk. There wasn’t much that stood out. This was a simple district with no real landmarks. There was no real draw. No tourist attractions. No fabric stores either to garner Marinette’s interest.
So why come here? What had she been doing? And where did she go?
“Does anything stick out to you guys?” Alya asked as she glanced around, trying to find anything that could indicate where Marinette had been.
The others started looking around as well, but for all intents and purposes, it was just a plain street. The split up amongst themselves to go into the shops and ask around for clues. But none of the stores seemed like places where Marinette would go. And none of the workers inside had seen her. Though if they had, there was no way for her to have stood out to them enough for them to recall her weeks later.
“Not with the akuma attack, anyway.” One clerk stated. “It was a distance away, sure, but still close enough that we all shut down and hid out in our stores.”
Alya had nodded in understanding. Because honestly, while Ladybug and Chat Noir did a great job stopping the akumas, the fights could take them all over Paris in the span of an hour. Even if a battle was on the other side of the city, there was no telling where they would end up by the end.
She thanked the man for his time and left the store. Nothing she didn’t already know, but still, any information was useful. Something about it had nagged at her, though, so she wrote it in her notes all the same.
“Any luck?” Ivan asked, causing her to look up at the assembled group. Nino had been chatting with Ivan while Luka had taken to strumming on his guitar while they waited. Rose and Juleka were talking to someone at a nearby kiosk, possibly to purchase one of the charms.
Alya shook her head, regretfully. “Nothing on my end. At least not anything new. How about you?”
The boys shook their heads sadly. Alya couldn’t help the disappointment at that.
“Do you think there’s something we missed?” Ivan asked, trying to be hopeful.
Luka frowned, playing a few notes on his guitar, a bit harshly in apparent agitation. It was probably his method of coping, Alya rationalized. A part of her wished she had some reassurance to give him, but she was feeling despondent herself. Whatever boost she had gotten from seeing justice served with Lila was starting to falter, and she didn’t know how much hope she’d be able to hold on to for her best friend.
“Hey guys!” Rose came running over, looking excited. Juleka followed along silently behind her at a somewhat slower but still faster than usual pace. “That guy selling charms said he saw Marinette that day!”
That got their attention as everyone perked up.
“Really?”
“Where?”
“It was right before the akuma attack.” Rose explained, practically bouncing as she told them. “She was looking at the charms at his kiosk and mumbling about different designs for them, so they had gotten to talking a bit.” She frowned, looking concerned. “But then they heard the akuma alert. The owner was shutting down his kiosk but pointed out the direction he saw Marinette run.”
Juleka reached out, pointing towards a gap between two particular stores. “In there.”
Alya turned to look. The stores in question were both the tallest buildings on the street, standing at four stories with a clear alleyway between them. They didn’t have much in the way of decorations, but with the awnings and balconies, did appear to provide cover. Maybe Marinette had hid in there during the fight?
The alleyway itself was empty. Other than a fire escape on one side, a dumpster, and a fence blocking the way through, there didn’t seem to be much else of notice. And the dumpster had to have been cleaned out in the weeks since Marinette’s disappearance.
Nino heaved a sigh of relief when Alya told him this before he could attempt to dumpster dive for clues. He wanted to find Marinette, sure. And he certainly would have been willing to loot a dumpster for her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.
The group spread out along the alley, continuing to search for clues. While not searching within the dumpster itself, Nino and Ivan had gone so far as to lift the dumpster enough for Rose to do a quick search beneath for anything. Juleka checked the fence for any holes or ways through. Luka stood near the entrance to the alley as a lookout in case anyone noticed them, absently picking at notes on his guitar.
Alya, for her part, tried to check the fire escape. Was it reachable from the ground? No, it was at least a story up and the ladder leading to it wasn’t lowered if it was even there at all. Maybe if Marinette had stood on the dumpster? Hmm...what if there was a way to check for height on her map?
She pulled out her phone
And immediately froze.
There, on her phone’s map, was a blinking, fuzzy icon. The one that had been indicating Marinette. At some point without realizing it, she had switched from the image of Marinette’s last placement to the current. She saw her own indicator with her picture, as well as those of her other friends with her.
But amidst her searching, the icon symbolizing Marinette’s current location on her map had been moving.
It was moving here.
And suddenly...
It had stopped.
It...was here.
Marinette...it said she was here.
Alya froze.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t even move her body from her spot. At most, she was able to move her eyes, searching wildly for any trace of her best friend.
But...nothing.
Why was it saying she was here?
“Marinette?!”
All other sound ceased. The others turned to her, but she didn’t even notice because it was here! The signal was right here! Marinette was here!
But…she wasn’t.
It was just herself. Just Alya. Just Nino. Just Luka and Rose and the rest of Kitty Section. Just them. Just random people passing by on the street.
No Marinette.
But…
A quick glance to the phone showed it was still there. So Marinette had to be here, right?
But why?
Alya looked around frantically, calling out in desperation.
“MARINETTE?!”
Silence.
A few strange looks from the people nearby.
Not even her friends dared to speak.
And on her phone, the icon symbolizing Marinette’s signal started to fade and drift away.
Alya stared at the icon. Wishing it back.
“Babe…” Nino tried, approaching her cautiously. “What was that?”
She bit her lip.
“I…don’t know?”
______________________
Oh.
The music stopped.
Whatever strands of melody and lingering echoes of the tune had since faded from the rooftop where she stood.
It had been a beautiful melody. Something gentle and kind in its own way. And while she knew better than to take a break, she had a strange inclination to listen to the sweet yet heartbreaking tune while it lasted.
…it just hadn’t lasted very long.
The loss felt…sad, in a way. She couldn’t help but feel that it had been cut off all too soon.
And the silence bothered her.
It seemed…stifling, almost.
She shook it off.
It was time to go anyway. She had spent too much time here as it was. And she still needed to…do whatever it was she was here to do. Continue searching the city. Keep an eye out for any akumas. Be useful. Stay busy.
Until she could go back to wherever she had been before, at least.
She sighed and threw her yo-yo. As she approached the edge of the building, she allowed the low murmur of background noise and city life to erase that gnawing emptiness. She swung off, leaving the sounds of shouting behind her. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound important.
Back to work.
______________________
Evening came all too slowly for Adrien. The rest of the day seemed to drag on and made him all that much more eager for the end of school. And wasn’t that an irony that he actually wanted to be out of school for once?
But the only thing he was more eager about than school was his friends. And Alya seemed to think she had a lead on Marinette. If she had anything, he wanted to know. If there was even a chance, he’d happily take it if it meant getting to see her again.
Unfortunately, their differing schedules made meeting difficult. Alya had wanted to share her info with Nino, and knowing how affected Adrien was by everything, Nino had insisted Adrien be there as well. But Adrien had practice and lessons after school. And Nino and Alya both had obligations at their respective homes.
It had been decided that they would do a phone chat later in the evening. After Nino and Alya’s younger siblings were put to bed and when Adrien’s schedule was clear.
He was practically vibrating out of his chair with nervousness the longer he waited for their video chat.
“Boo!”
So much so that he actually fell out of his chair when Plagg returned.
“Plagg! Where have you been?!” Adrien demanded as he pushed himself up. He was of course happy that he had returned, but really!
The kwami snickered at Adrien’s expression. Could anyone blame him? That was hilarious.
...but back on point, Plagg remembered his news and quickly got serious.
“I couldn’t find the Guardian.”
Adrien’s eyes widened. “Did something happen to him?”
Plagg shrugged. “I don’t know. He could just be out running errands or something. We’ll need to try again.”
“I could try calling him now.” Adrien suggested. If he had just been busy when he tried before, then surely it would be all right to try again to reach him now? And as long as he had his phone, Fu should be able to get his call. Though in that case, Fu should already have known about his earlier call, right?
Adrien bit his lip in worry. So much had been happening lately. Marinette disappeared. The whole thing with Lila. Ladybug was...apparently in a bad mood for some reason. Now Plagg was agitated and they couldn’t reach Master Fu.
He took a breath to steady himself. They weren’t sure Fu was actually unreachable yet. He needed to call him first. And if that didn’t work, he could have Plagg lead him to the man’s place to check up on him.
Still...he couldn’t help the anxiety he was feeling, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
BRIIIIIING!
“AAH!”
As was evident when he panicked at the sudden alarm from his phone. So much so that it took him three tries to grab the phone as he kept dropping it due to his frantic fumbling. Ignoring Plagg’s commentary, he looked to the screen and saw it was a video call request from Alya.
Oh right. The video chat with Nino and Alya. It was supposed to start now. He had just gotten distracted.
He took a breath and answered the call.
“Hey! Hi! Hello! Glad you made it!”
Honestly, he could have smacked himself.
Somewhere off to the side, Plagg was snickering. On the video, both Alya and Nino seemed to be smiling at how frazzled he appeared. Adrien himself was much less amused.
“Did you find anything?” He asked, only partly to distract from himself.
Mostly because he was hoping for some news. That their excursion earlier had been successful. That they’d found something on their friend. Preferably the friend in question.
But their downhearted expressions told him the answer before they even had to say anything. The explanation that followed was short but detailed, and only seemed to further his confusion. Given their expressions, Adrien was sure that Alya and Nino were in the same boat.
“It was the weirdest thing...” Alya trailed off in a mutter.
“I’ll say.” Nino added with a laugh. “You were kind of freaking out. We all panicked when you started shouting.”
In any other instance, Alya might have been offended. As it was, though, she was quiet. Remaining deep in thought and seemingly oblivious to her boyfriend’s attempt to distract from her.
But Adrien noticed.
“Alya? What’s up?”
A moment of silence followed as she attempted to gather her thoughts.
Then...
“I have a theory.“ Alya started, looking apprehensive.
Adrien perked up. “A theory? What of?”
Nino, for his part, found in realization. “Does this have to do with what happened earlier?“
She nodded. “I’d been following her cell phone signal. After…” She hesitated for a second. “Well, when I was Lady Wifi, I managed to track Marinette’s phone signal and that same signal is on my phone now. But something isn’t right about it.”
She lifted her phone to the screen so Adrien could see what she meant. Sure enough, there was Marinette’s icon active on the map, but...it looked strange. Distorted. He struggled to tell that it was Marinette’s picture there at all.
“It’s been like this for a while. I’ve never seen any case like this, and there are no reports online of anything similar. Plus given how it’s been moving around…” She pulled her phone back and shrugged. “I think magic may be involved.”
Adrien straightened. “So you think she might have been akumatized?”
She shrugged. “Near as I can figure.“
Nino frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Hawk Moth can only akumatize one person at a time.“
Well, that wasn’t quite true, Adrien realized. There had been the Scarlet Moth incident when he had caused a mass akumatization with that illusion. Then it happened again that time Marinette had been expelled thanks to Lila’s schemes.
He bit back the rush of resentment and guilt at the memory to focus.
Could Hawk Moth akumatize more than one person at once? There had been the young twins who became Sapotis and when Alya and Nino became Oblivio, but those were cases where two people were essentially one akuma. And even in the case of multiple active akuma like the time Lady WiFi, Reflecta, and Princess Fragrance came after him thanks to his cousin, they all still only shared one akuma. Purifying that had been enough to restore all three, and in this case, he and Ladybug had already done that. So if that was the case, Marinette should have been restored as well, even if they hadn’t fought her.
“Could he have made Lady WiFi if Marinette was already an akuma?” Adrien asked.
“He’s akumatized more than one person at once though. There was the incident with the scarlet butterflies. And then there were also the time with my sisters.” Alya argued, remembering the same incidents Adrien had.
“And when Adrien’s jerk of a cousin caused you, Rose, and Juleka to be akumatized.” Nino added.
Alya groaned. “We just don’t know the extent of Hawk Moth’s power.”
Adrien nodded at that. Of course it was possible that Hawk Moth had discovered some new ability. But his power seemed to follow certain rules and have at least some limitations, so it didn’t make sense that he could suddenly do this.
Or why, for that matter? Hawk Moth did show some capability for planning—Scarlet Moth was proof of that. But what could he possibly gain from keeping Marinette as an akuma for this long?
But...hadn’t he targeted her before?
Adrien bit his lip.
There was too much uncertainty.
He sent a glance to Plagg, who saw his look and shook his head in response. The kwami looked particularly annoyed at the current train of the discussion. Clearly they were on the wrong track.
Adrien took a breath. “I don’t think that’s it. If it was Hawk Moth, what would be the purpose? We all know Marinette is gone now and would be looking for anything that could be behind it. If he had the ability to akumatize multiple people back to back, why use it like this? It doesn’t add up.”
“I don’t know if it is that Hawk Moth akumatized her.” Aly admitted. “It’s just that it has to be magic. There’s no other way to explain it. I mean, it’s not just Marinette that’s gone. Her cellphone…” She hesitated. “It isn’t stable. It’s there, but...not? And she was there today. I know she was.”
She had to give Max credit for his capabilities. The data was extensive and thorough despite the clear limits. And quite advanced. She hadn’t known it was possible to get as much data as he had, or even that it existed. But it was helpful to her search, and that was the important thing. With it, she was able to glean information. And slowly, a timeline started to form.
As did a theory.
“So her phone signal is still there, but she isn’t. And it’s been like this since...“
Since Marinette went missing.
The same day she disappeared, the biggest thing that happened that day was—
“The akuma.” Alya whispered. She frowned as she switched her browser on her computer to the Ladyblog and started looking through the archived footage and documentation of that attack.
There was an akuma attack that day. Someone feeling forgotten and overlooked was given the power to erase others.
She had watched a video of one such unfortunate victim. The poor guy didn’t even have a chance to wince at being hit. He just vanished the instant the attack made contact.
“But if Marinette was akumatized,” Nino continued, “why would Hawk Moth even make an akuma like that? If she’s not doing anything other than making herself disappear...that’s not useful for him, is it?”
Alya frowned, looking over the data again. “It’s not, no.”
Adrien also wasn’t convinced. From Plagg’s expression, it seemed he had some idea, though now wasn’t the time to press him. He’d have to wait until after the call was over. “It’s also much quieter, isn’t it? Every akuma up until now has been immediate and noticeable, otherwise Ladybug and Chat Noir wouldn’t know to come out and fight it, and Hawk Moth wouldn’t have a chance to target their Miraculous. The only exception was when Sabrina was akumatized the first time to be invisible, and even that was only for a couple of days.”
Nino shrugged but appeared to agree with him. “It’s been a couple of weeks since Marinette disappeared. If it was an akuma, wouldn’t we have noticed one by now? Akumas are generally fueled by emotions. They aren’t subtle.”
Alya looked back at her phone, reviewing the timeline. “But if she isn’t an akuma herself, then the only other option I can think of is that she was hit by that erasure akuma last month.” She shook her head, incredulous. “But that can’t be right. The Miraculous Cure would have brought her back, wouldn’t it?”
So caught in the discussion between his friends, Adrien didn’t see how Plagg looked stricken.
“It’s never failed before.” Nino stated.
“But what else could explain the state of her phone signal? It should either be there or not at all.
Adrien paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “That’s not normal.” He agreed.
“It does indicate that whatever happened to Marinette, it must be magical. And the only one with any sort of power along those lines would be Hawk Moth.”
“But why?”
She sighed.
“I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”
None of them noticed Gabriel standing outside the door. Or the expression of dawning horror.
________________
Gabriel felt numb in a way he never thought he had been before.
The missing Dupain-Cheng girl? An akuma?
No. That was impossible.
Even if he was capable of akumatizing more than one person at a time outside of the Scarlet Moths, he would still have known. He would have made contact with her. And from his experience with his powers, he would have a link to the girl.
There was nothing.
But the only other explanation…
An official victim of an akuma attack. Someone that the Cure didn’t bring back.
How was it possible?
He entered the office in a daze. Nathalie followed him closely in worry, but he barely took notice. He just shut the door quietly behind him once they had both entered, then leaned against it. He felt shaky. Off balance.
He had gone to his son’s room to see if he had access to any of the pictures or footage from the fashion show. Or if that journalist friend of his still had her video. Just...anything.
Audrey had called him in such a rage that day. Somehow, the shipments of her latest issue of Style Queen never made it out. Her attempt to recover the issue failed due to multiple holes and entire blank pages where pictures and articles should have been. So she had reached out to him through Nathalie, demanding his involvement and taking his attention away from his duties as Hawk Moth. At the time, he had begrudged her the missed opportunity at another akumatization.
But now…
“That can’t be right.” He murmured to himself. How could this be? How was this even possible?
“Sir?”
“The blank pages and missing pictures were those of myself and my son, as well as any of my son in that hat.”
“The one from the contest?” Nathalie asked, uncertainly.
“Made by a Marinette Dupain-Cheng. A girl who it seems is also missing. And has been for some time…”
He looked to his computer, wondering if he could pull up the information or if that would be gone as well. He had thought it a simple error at first, but the more he searched, the less he found. And now, after hearing his son’s conversation...what else could it be?
“But the Miraculous Cure restores everything.” He continued, almost monotone. “That’s what it does. That’s how it works.”
She hesitated.
“Maybe…not this time?”
He felt unsteady as he made his way to his desk. Perhaps he actually was, as Nathalie had quickly moved to his side to help him to his chair. Given how he felt, he could only assume he probably looked ready to fall over.
“Sir?”
It…it shouldn’t have happened. The Miraculous Cure always undid any damage of the akuma battles. It rebuilt any damaged or destroyed property. Healed injuries. Brought people back from any sort of unwelcome fate. It restored people from being half-melted ice cream sculptures, for crying out loud!
For anyone to have just…NOT been saved was unheard of.
Gabriel had thought he had been prepared for this. But now that he was actually experiencing it, he was…left shaken...
He had known going in that casualties would be a very real possibility, but had reassured himself. It was for the greater good. His family was worth it. Everything would work out in the end. He could just use the Wish to change the world and make it so that none of this had ever happened.
And then Ladybug had appeared with the power to restore things and he was only further convinced. There wouldn’t be any long term damage. No one would be really harmed. Whatever happened could be fixed.
No one would die.
It became almost like a game. He could go all out with little concern for the consequences. If he lost, Ladybug would just use her Cure to fix everything and he would get another chance to try again. And if he won, he could correct things himself.
As such, he ceased to worry about the “what if’s” and focused solely on his goal.
But now a child was gone. As good as dead. Possibly worse.
And this time, magic wouldn’t bring her back.
For not the first time since he had started on this path, Gabriel wondered if it was worth it.
Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was an aspiring designer who showed great promise. From his limited interactions with her, he could see she had passion—both for her art and in her life. He had been impressed with what he had seen of her capability, and her level of care for his son was secret only to Adrien himself.
And now she was gone.
And Adrien…his own son was suffering for it.
He had heard from Nathalie how Adrien had been worried for her. How he had gone so far as to go out and search for her in some futile hope of finding her. How he had held onto that hope, trying to reassure himself each day that she would return safely.
Adrien…truly cared about this girl.
He wondered if it was any different to how he felt about Emilie?
What would he think if he learned the truth? If he discovered who Hawk Moth really was? If he knew his father was the reason his friend had been erased.
It was…too much.
Was this a sign?
Was this an indicator that he was going too far?
He should stop. Before more people were hurt. Before his son discovered the truth. He should…
He should stop this.
…
And yet…
Gabriel clenched his eyes shut.
…he couldn’t.
Stopping meant letting go of Emilie. It meant giving up on ever getting her back. Of ever making their family whole.
If he gave up now, that would make all he had done for nothing—including the child’s loss as well.
He was not completely heartless. A missing child would no doubt cause quite a bit of turmoil. It was no wonder Lady WiFi hadn’t listened to him, being too intent on searching for her friend. The feelings that had drawn his akuma to her...similar to the growing feelings settling on a number of Paris’s citizens.
Worry, sadness, fear, anger…all were emotions that would make perfect targets for his akumas. In any other circumstances, he would see fit to use that. However…given his part in this matter, the very thought of using the loss of a child to his advantage—especially when it was his fault—made him feel ill.
He would avoid targeting her friends or family. He owed her that much.
But he…he had to continue.
He had to make it worth it.
Once he saved Emilie, perhaps he could even use the Wish to bring back Miss Dupain-Cheng as well?
Then maybe…
Maybe they would forgive him someday.
________________
Sure enough, a few days later it all came to a head.
When Adrien arrived in class that day after yet another failed attempt at contacting Master Fu, it was to a group of some of his classmates looking particularly concerned and surrounding an upset Juleka. The girl wasn't crying, but she looked to be close as Rose kept an arm around her shoulder and was trying to whisper words of comfort to her. The only ones not present were Max and Nathaniel.
"Don't worry.” Rose reassured her. “I’m sure they've just been misplaced somewhere."
Juleka shook her head firmly. "No. I keep them on my wall. I never move them, but they're just gone."
"Maybe your mom or Luka moved them?" Kim suggested.
"Not without telling me. And I asked them. Neither of them knew anything."
Adrien grew more concerned as he approached the group. "Guys, what's going on?"
Alix glanced over to him and answered. "Juleka's photos are missing."
That was a surprise. He knew how much actually appearing in a photograph meant to the girl. It would have to be upsetting to her to lose any of them.
"They were all the ones from the class photograph.” Mylene explained. "Remember? The ones we took in the park.”
Adrien winced internally before nodding. He had remembered full well that entire incident...and the akuma she turned into because of it...and the heels (god, the heels). They had taken quite a number that day and Juleka had seemed so happy when she went home with copies in hand. "Do you recall where you last left them?"
Juleka appeared more morose. "They're on my wall. They're always right there and I can't miss them. I put them up immediately after getting home and haven't moved them since. I know I saw them there yesterday, but when I got up this morning, the wall was completely blank."
"That's really weird.” Alya chimed in. "And you're saying no one moved them?"
Juleka shook her head.
The other classmates glanced to each other, appearing more uncertain. Adrien himself started to gain an unsettling feeling.
"I keep them all posted on a board in my room. They're right there and I can't miss them, but when I looked this morning…” She shook her head.
"I never move them."
"Maybe it's a prank?” Kim asked, but he sounded uncertain. If it was a prank, it was a cruel and rather pointless one.
Alix seemed to share that sentiment. "It's not a funny one. Who would even do that?"
The group looked around at each other. They were really the only ones who even knew Juleka's "curse” or about the pictures. But each of them simply looked confused over the matter.
"It couldn't have been a prank.” Ivan insisted. "Luka would never do that and their mother would punch out anyone who tried."
Mylene frowned, considering. "Juleka's house is a boat. One housing three people and isn't that big that someone could sneak on board without being seen."
“It’d be a pointless thing to do—sneak onto a boat just to mess with pictures and nothing else.” Kim noted. “Was anything else missing?”
Juleka shook her head. “Not that I know of. Just my pictures.”
"It's okay." Rose said, trying to be cheerful and calm her upset friend. "I have a couple extras of the photos we took in my notebook. We can copy them and replace the ones that went missing."
It wasn’t quite the same, but it was a suitable alternative for now. So with a solution to the more immediate problem at hand, Rose shared a bright smile that Juleka tried to return—albeit with a much more strained and shaky one. Rose didn't comment, instead going to her desk and pulling out her book bag.
“I keep them right in—”
The others looked over in confusion as Rose suddenly cut off, her expression turning confused.
"Rose? Everything okay?” Alix asked, growing worried at the prolonged silence.
Rose bit her lip and turned back to the group. "Did one of you maybe already take my notebook?"
Confusion seemed to be the theme of the day, as the classmates again glanced at one another before looking back to Rose.
"I'm not mad or anything!” Rose said, attempting to reassure them. "Since it's for Juleka, but if you already have it, I'd like to know where it is."
"Wait...are you saying your notebook is missing, too?" Nino asked.
Rose bit her lip, uncertain. "I don't—I mean, I guess so?"
"That's strange." Adrien said with a frown. He turned to the rest of the group in growing concern. "Look around. Is anyone else missing anything?"
The rest of the class searched through their bags, but fortunately, no one else seemed to be missing anything.
“That is odd. First Juleka’s pictures, then Rose’s diary? Why those things?” Alya wondered. She muttered to herself about an akuma and checked her blog to see if anyone had posted any similar cases on the matter.
The rest of the class took it upon themselves to try and offer some reassurance to the two girls that their items would be found.
“Maybe we can check the cameras?” Ivan suggested.
“That’s a lot of footage to go through though.” Nino pointed out.
“I bet Markov could go through it pretty quick.” Kim replied with a grin.
Adrien looked around at his classmates. It was good to see them mostly recovered from the ordeal with Lila and trying to help each other. But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was strange.
He could almost get a sense for it before he was interrupted by the timely yet untimely arrival of Max.
Kim smiled in relief at the sight of his friend. “Hey, Max! Buddy! Think you and Markov could give us a hand with a little investigation? Rose and Juleka seem to be missing some things and we figured maybe you could help!”
Max, for his part, looked concerned and a bit guilty. "I'm sorry, but Markov and I are already busy trying to assist Nathaniel and Marc. It seems that somehow, their collaborative comic has been erased."
Multiple gasp and moans of horror and disappointment filled the room at that. Everyone really enjoyed that comic and they had been really looking forward to the next installment.
"Do you know what caused it?" Mylene asked.
"We've been doing everything we could, but we haven't been able to find anything about the comic in the computer. I suspect it may be a virus of some kind, but there's no trace of anything of the sort. We're trying to help them work this out. They had gotten a lot of work done on this comic and I'd hate to see it lost."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You're amazing when it comes to technology." Kim said with a grin, fully confident in his friend's capabilities.
But Max didn't look enthused. "I'm not so sure. Markov can't find any trace of an outside program or of the comic even being there.” He waved his hands. “It’s like it just…vanished!”
Adrien frowned. Three things in one day. It…couldn’t just be coincidence, could it?
“Can it do that?”
“Not like that. Not normally.”
"This is strange.” Mylene said anxiously, gripping Ivan’s hand. “A lot of things seem to be missing."
Alya frowned, looking at her phone. "Speaking of strange things, I just got a hit to the Ladyblog. It's Marinette's parents. They want to talk to Ladybug and Chat Noir as soon as possible."
Several of the classmates perked in surprise.
“Could it be an akuma?”
“Do you think they’re okay?”
“Did they find something about Marinette?”
“But why call for Ladybug and Chat Noir then?”
“Huh? Hey, Adrien, where are you going? Class is about to start!”
Adrien barely took notice. He was already out the door.
______________________
If he hadn't already received the message, Chat would have known immediately that something was wrong. Rolland and Gina Dupain were present at the bakery. He knew little regarding the Dupain family, but he had been under the impression that the two were not on good terms. But they were actually working together without issue, with Gina working the counter and Rolland working the kitchen with nary a grumble regarding the bread.
When Chat arrived, Gina immediately called for Tom. And within seconds, he was quickly rushed in by the much taller man, who…did not look well.
The giant, kind bear of a man looked like he had aged since the last time he had seen him. Not to any great or unnatural extent, but it was clear that stress had impacted him.
Losing a child would do that to you, he realized. But whatever else was going on was certainly doing him no favors.
"Thank you for coming." Tom said with clear relief as he opened the door.
Chat nodded in return as he entered. "It's not a problem. But your message sounded urgent. Has there been any word on Marinette?" Like hopefully that she returned and the bakery was closed so the parents could smother her in affection?
He was hopeful. He was a hopeful guy.
Tom shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. It's best if you see it for yourself." With that, he led the way through the back. Chat followed with some growing trepidation and jumped when he entered the living area.
Sabine was there. Her gaze practically snapped to him the instant he appeared, though she didn't otherwise move. The woman was sitting on the couch, clutching a box of what appeared to contain an assortment of clothes and dolls. Marinette's things, he realized. But why? Comfort, perhaps?
But Sabine didn't look sad or in need of comfort. If anything, her expression made him wary to approach her. She looked upset no—not just upset, but downright angry. She was on guard and watching him with a strange sort of hypervigilance. Like she'd literally bite his hand off if he got too close. He had no doubt that magical suit or not, the woman probably could.
Chat had thought the grandparents had looked particularly tired. Like perhaps they hadn’t slept in a while. But Tom and Sabine both looked like they had slept even less.
For her part, Sabine’s eyes narrowed at him and she pulled the box closer to her and as out of his sight as possible. It bothered him, because it was strange for someone to be clutching a box like that. She wasn't looking to the things inside for solace, she was warily watching everything else around her.
Something was wrong.
More wrong, he amended.
"We noticed it after a few days, but we didn't know what to think." Tom said, softly as he continued to lead the hero up the stairs and through the house. "It looked like some of her things had been moved around. At first we thought that maybe she'd found a way back home. Or that she was trying to communicate with us somehow. But... “He opened the door and allowed Chat into the room.
When Chat finally entered Marinette's room, he couldn't help feeling bewildered.
Was it always this empty, he wondered? He glanced around at the different areas of Marinette's room, noting the differences and the overall"¦lacking. The walls were missing pictures. There was nothing on the desk. The mannequin that was normally adorned with the beginnings of some sort of outfit or new piece wasn't even present, leaving a sadly empty space in the room. There weren't even the knick knacks or textiles or yarn or cloth pieces that he remembered seeing previously. It looked like a room. It even looked like someone lived in it. But it was bare of a lot of what made it Marinette's.
Tom looked around the room in growing dismay. "It's getting worse."
Chat blinked in confusion. "What?"
"The posters are gone now. So are the gloves she had been working on. Several of the pictures changed before they disappeared." Tom looked to Chat, eyes begging for an answer. "We checked frequently, but bit by bit, they were gone before we realized it. It's like they're just...”
"They're fading." Chat realized in growing horror. He'd started to suspect, given Juleka's pictures and Rose's diary, but this confirmed it.
This wasn't natural.
Marinette didn't run away. Nothing so simple could explain what he had been seeing so far. No human could pull this off, and he knew Marinette was far from the sort to even try, no matter the reason. This was magic, he was sure of it.
"Sabine and I have been taking shifts. Whenever we looked away, something else was gone. So we just...” He shrugged helplessly before gesturing down the ladder.
Downstairs. To where Sabine sat hoarding a box with all the ferocity of a dragon guarding its gold.
He understood now. Marinette's mother wasn't holding onto Marinette's belongings out of missing her child, she was literally trying to keep them from disappearing!
Her room. The pictures. The notebook. The comic. They were all connected by her influence. Everything Marinette owned or had a part in was starting to fade away. Her parents figured it out and they were trying to protect what was left of their daughter.
He clenched his fists.
He had to talk to Ladybug.
______________________
How frustrating.
It had been weeks, but Ladybug had made little progress in her self appointed mission to track down Hawk Moth. And it had been vexing, especially given his recent silence. Other than Lady Wifi, there hadn’t been any other akuma attacks. Even in spite of the more despondent atmosphere she had noticed around the Francois Dupont school as of late.
He must be planning something...
Surely there had to be some minor issue he would consider escalating to akuma-worthy. That incident in the park with that strange old man certainly stood out in her mind as one such missed opportunity for the supervillain.
...who even was that man? He acted like he knew her and was spouting...the strangest things.
Who she was before she became Ladybug? Someone beneath the mask? He ‘knew’ her?
Ridiculous.
Clearly he had been suffering some ailment when he happened upon her.
She sighed.
It was unfortunate really. For a brief moment there, she had almost thought the man had known something valuable. He had seemed so earnest. And she could almost swear he seemed...familiar? Like she had met him somewhere before.
She rubbed her head, trying to recall. It wasn’t just this time or the one incident before. Maybe she had rescued him once? Maybe he was one of the civilians she had chatted with on some previous occasion? And that could be how he thought he knew her?
Maybe...
“Ladybug! LADYBUG!”
At the sound of someone calling for her, she stopped and turned around to see Chat running towards her. She was glad to see him again, but from his expression and the way he was running, it looked like this wasn’t a social visit.
“Chat? Is everything all right?” She asked once he had finally reached her. “Is there an akuma?”
“No! I mean yes! I mean—not exactly!” He shook his head. “Sorry, just…”
She couldn’t understand him through his babbling. Ladybug frowned and held her hands out, gesturing for his silence to get his attention.
“Chat, calm down and breathe. Then tell me what is wrong.”
To her further annoyance, he took a deep—somewhat exaggerated breath. If nothing else, however, it did serve to get him to settle and be able to speak normally.
“Listen, I think something may have gone wrong in the last akuma battle. Well—not the last one, but the last last one.”
…semi-normally.
At least she could understand him, at any rate.
Still, that was concerning. “What do you mean?”
She had stopped that akuma, hadn’t she?
“A friend of mine disappeared after that battle and never reappeared. Now she’s missing.”
“You mean that Marinette girl? Chat, it’s likely she may have run away.”
“NO. She didn’t. I was worried about that at first, but she wouldn’t and I was right. Other things are disappearing now! Everything of hers or that she had a hand in is literally fading away! She had to have been hit by that erasing akuma.”
“That’s impossible. The Miraculous Cure fixes all the damage caused by an akuma fight.”
“But Marinette hasn’t returned!”
“Then maybe she wasn’t involved with the akuma fight at all.”
“Her things are disappearing! Anything that reminds people of her are suddenly vanishing if people aren’t constantly watching them! That’s not normal! That’s magic.”
“Did you actually see anything disappear?”
He paused.
“Well—not directly myself, no.” He admitted, rubbing his head. “But a lot of people have said things are disappearing. And they all seem to be things she had some involvement or influence in.”
Marinette had come up with the idea for Rose’s journal after Chloe had insulted it. She had helped Juleka break her curse and take all those fun photos to make up for the class picture. Marc and Nathaniel’s comic only got started because Marinette had introduced them. And from what he saw at the bakery, the effect was expanding.
He froze, a creeping realization sinking in.
If it was expanding, just how much would be gone?
“But if you haven’t seen it, then how do you know that it’s an akuma?”
“But they said—”
She shook her head. “Chat, it could just be coincidence. People misplace things. Lose things. Throw things away and forget about them. It happens. That doesn’t make it noteworthy and doesn’t mean it’s magic. Sometimes, those things are just gone.”
“But they—”
“You have to face facts, Chat Noir. If she’s gone, she may not return.”
He’d had enough.
“What is WRONG with you?”
He had plenty of times where he felt annoyed or angry with Ladybug. When she rejected him. When she kept secrets. When she didn’t seem to take him seriously. Looking back, those instances seemed so incredibly petty compared to how he felt in this moment.
Never had he ever wanted to shake her the way he did now.
“A girl is missing! She is literally fading from existence and you don’t care!”
“Chat, you don’t even know that’s actually the case! There are other things to worry about right now!”
“This is a person’s LIFE AT STAKE!”
Ladybug simply looked unimpressed. “Everyone’s life is at stake against Hawk Moth, Chat! And you would have me put him on hold just for one person?”
“She isn’t just one person!”
She was a person! She had a name! And a family! And friends! And a dream! She was an up and coming designer! Jagged Stone’s artist! Their class representative! His classmate!
She...
She was his...
Now Ladybug looked almost...sad? Disappointed?
“You’re too attached to this girl to think about this objectively, Chat. You are letting your emotions cloud your judgement. As a hero, you need to be impartial.”
He grit his teeth.
He wanted to say something.
He wanted to say so much.
But instead, he turned tail and stormed off.
It was Ladybug. His partner. The person he would follow in any crisis. He knew to an extent that she had a point, because yeah, he had a tendency to act on his emotions rather than think things through. But...she sounded like she didn’t care.
What else could he do?
So he ran away.
But Ladybug...
She simply stood there. Her head tilted in confusion as she watched him go. She watched for a minute before she shrugged it off and turned away. She didn't try to go after him. Not once did she call out to him.
Her partner was running away from her...
...and she just let him.
______________________
Tom knew something was wrong.
It had been a busy day in the bakery. Despite the circumstances in the current situation with her daughter being missing, they couldn't just keep the bakery closed. After all, Marinette had to have a place to come back to at some point. And they needed to keep living.
But that didn't mean it wasn't hard.
Tom and Sabine had been torn. In their current state, they were hard pressed to keep the bakery running and also focus on efforts to find their daughter. It was even worse now that they had distinct reason to believe magic was involved.
It had been fortunate that both Gina and Rolland had been willing to put their differences and issues aside to come help. They had been a substantial support during this time. When Tom had reached out to them, Gina had cut short her trip to Peru to fly back to Paris and assist, mentioning using her connections to deal with some of the cartels in the area known for human trafficking on the chance they happened to be involved. And Rolland had taken to the traditional methods of posting Marinette’s MISSING picture at various locations.
Seeing the current situation with the parents, both had gone so far as to agree to help in the bakery. Gina had agreed to manage the storefront while Rolland had taken to helping in the kitchen. Surprisingly with minimal complaint about the bread. And even willing to close his own bakery in the meantime.
He was still difficult, but it was clear the man was trying. And he was more help than not.
This allowed Tom and Sabine to be able to breathe. There were points where one or the other would have to go to the back when things got to be too much. From the normal stress of the job itself to the pitying looks and questions they would sometimes get. And now to try to keep count of what else of their daughter’s had disappeared when they weren’t looking. Which meant they had taken to shifts during the night as well in hopes that their presence would slow down the process.
Sabine had been quite focused on this for the past few days, willing to leave the majority of the bakery work to the other three. But one could only spend so long staring at a box and a slowly emptying room, and she had eventually agreed to Tom’s pleas to just try to return to a regular work day if only to restore a sense of normalcy.
...he should have realized something was up the instant she had agreed.
She had switched with Gina in working the front and dealing with the customers. Plastering a perfect smile and jovial tone, as if her world wasn’t crumbling. He was concerned with her state, but Tom had wondered if this wasn’t her way of trying to cope. Sabine had long had a way of being a pillar of calm in any storm, so he had decided to trust in her.
But then there were the more...delicate customers.
Enrique Arnette was never an easy man to deal with. Pretentious, high-handed, and with a need to be catered to in a way that rivaled with Audrey Bourgeois. He could be her brother, all things considered. They were both loud and full of themselves. Only she, at least, had the power and capability to back her.
Unlike Audrey, Enrique was just loud. Loud and entitled. He was well known for being picky and making specific demands that some questioned might be less about what he actually wanted and more about looking for a reason to get upset and cause a fuss. But Tom and Sabine's Bakery seemed to be one of the few places capable of meeting his picky and overly extravagant standards.
Usually, Sabine was more than capable of handling him or any other contrary customer.
But today...
"What is this? Are you supposed to be a bakery or a crematorium?"
It was like nothing she did was satisfactory.
It might have been the stress getting to her. Tom would have believed that.
Except that the smile on her face was like ice. And her eyes were like steel. When he tried to step in to take over handling the order, Sabine clutched the plate in an iron grip. And as she looked up at him, her gaze was downright unnerving.
"Let me handle this."
Tom didn't dare disagree. He just watched and waited anxiously to the side as Sabine continued to try and fail to fulfill his order.
It was too cooked.
There was too much syrup.
The fruit was mashed.
The design was poorly done.
As Enrique became more frustrated, Tom noticed how Sabine neither stood up to the verbal tirade, nor did she apologize.
And his wife's expression was a knowing one.
It was...unusual for her. If he didn't know better...or maybe because he did know better, he couldn't stop himself from wondering if it was intentional?
The way she was messing up the order so many times was not like her, to the point he could swear it was on purpose. And her attitude and responses, while not outright rude, were not customer-friendly and were certainly far from her norm.
Was she...trying to upset him?
"What kind of service is this?!" The man demanded.
Tom stepped forward. "Dear, why don't I handle this and you can take a break, okay?"
But Sabine didn't even look at Tom. Her gaze remained fully on Enrique.
"If it is so displeasing to you, perhaps you would find service more befitting of your station in a dumpster?"
Everyone froze.
Sabine was many things. Matronly. Firm at times when needed. Soft at other times when it isn't. Fully willing to stand up to people.
But she was never rude. And she would never insult anyone like this.
Enrique’s face turned red in growing rage.
"What did you say?"
“Are you deaf?” She asked him congenially in a tone and manner as if she was commenting on the weather instead of actively insulting the man. “Or is there as much trash filling your ears as there is your mouth?”
Tom gaped momentarily before moving forward to intervene. “Sabine, why don’t you just—”
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Enrique shouted, almost on the verge of a shriek. “I have NEVER been so insulted in my life!”
“Then clearly people weren’t trying hard enough.” Sabine shot back derisively. “If you aren’t going to take your needlessly complicated and pretentious order, then get out and let someone else.”
Gasps and murmurs resounded.
He turned up his nose. “I won’t pay a euro for that mess or your attitude! If anything, you should be paying ME at this point for the insult! And trust me, I WILL be making you pay!”
Shouts of alarm got Tom’s attention, along with the sound of wings.
“Oh no!”
And akuma had gotten into the store, no doubt attracted to Enrique’s indignation as it fluttered its way towards the irate man.
Except that in the second before the akuma could reach him and assimilate into his watch—
SLAM!
Sabine had caught the akuma in midair before it could reach Enrique, her hand covered in an old worn oven mitt.
Everyone jerked back in shock and growing horror.
But Tom just stared in sorrowful realization.
He recognized that mitt. It was one of the first things Marinette had made and gifted to her mother.
It was one of her few possessions that remained.
One that Sabine had refused to part with.
"No." He murmured. "Sabine. Honey, no.”
His wife couldn't hear him.
The glowing mask was indicative that it was already too late.
#missing#ml fic#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#adrien agreste#chat noir#alya cesaire#nino lahiffe#Kagami Tsurugi#luka couffaine#tom dupain cheng#sabine dupain cheng#hawk moth#gabriel agreste#plagg#ml sad#ml angst
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Azriel X Gwyn - Autumn Connection
https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73536900
She was nervous.
Gwyn had arrived at the house with Nesta and Cassian, who were there to meet with the rest of the Inner Circle. Cassian had asked Rhysand if it was alright for her to come, and the High Lord thankfully had not objected. It was her first time being in the home of the High Pair.
After they’d arrived, she’d split from the group. With the blessing of Nesta’s sister, Feyre, Gwyn in wandered the grounds and explored the marvelous home.
But that was simply a means to pass the time.
Gwyn had one single reason for being here, and he was sitting across the room - staring silently out the window. His hair reminded her of her own.
Lucien Vanserra.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him - noting his handsome profile.
“Why aren’t you in the meeting with the others?” she asked politely.
The red-headed male turned his head, and her eyes caught on his false golden eye as he scrutinized her.
“I’m not welcome there,” he answered.
Her brow crinkled, “What do you mean?”
“I came here in an official capacity, as emissary, to deliver news of what I’ve learned. But their discussions are meant for them alone.”
The male tried to sound indifferent but she detected the wistfulness in his tone. He said he did not belong, but a part of him wanted to. She lips pressed thin at the dejection that took over his face as turned back to the window.
“Well then, perhaps I can sit with you while you wait,” she offered, dropping down beside him on the large couch.
He said nothing in response.
“My name is Gwyn by way.”
Again, no answer. Gwyn refused to give up. No matter how stubborn he insisted on being. She’d mustered up the courage to show up here uninvited, and she would not leave with nothing to show for it
“You’re from the Autumn Court right?”
He gazed over at her apprehensively, “I’m sure you know who I am,” he returned, waiting for her to deny it.
But she didn’t. Gwyn saw no point in lying since they both knew the truth.
“You’re right, I do.”
She could’ve sworn he regarded her with begrudging respect for the fact that she didn’t attempt to lie. Perhaps, that was why he deigned to answer.
“I have not belonged to the Autumn Court in a very long time. But I’m sure you knew that as well.”
She nodded, “But you were born in that court, grew up there. Didn’t you?”
He eyed her attentively, “Yes.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
His eyes narrowed, “Why do wish to know about the Autumn Court?”
She smiled, lowering her voice as if imparting some great secret, “I’ve been told that my grandmother, a river nymph, once used her feminine wiles to seduce a High Fae from your home court. So, I suppose you could say I’m curious about it all. I mean we could be family.”
She gestured to her hair to make her point.
Lucien stared at her for a long moment, not saying anything, and she wondered if she’d laid it on a bit too thick.
Until he erupted in laughter.
This went on for several seconds before he managed to collect himself.
“I dare say that was not the sort of answer I was expecting.”
Any signs of ill-humor was gone from the male. He now looked downright amused, his hands pressed to his knees.
“A member of the Autumn Court seduced by a river nymph, truly? My goodness. I only wish I knew the story behind it, if it is in fact true.”
“Of course, it’s true. I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she insisted.
“Right well, first thing you need to know about the Autumn Court is that they’re all a bunch of stuck up assholes.”
She crinkled her nose in distaste, “Aren’t they your family?”
Lucien watched her intently.
“That’s how you know I’m being honest when I say they’re painfully uptight and overly prideful. If what you say is true, any one of them will deny it.”
Gwyn didn’t much like what was being implied.
“Are you trying to say river nymphs are less than?”
She might not have known her grandmother but the insult still stood.
Lucien gave her a empathic look, “I’m not so pretentious that I would look down upon someone for being what they are,” he defended, “River nymphs are beautiful in their way. It is a different beauty than that is the High Fae but that should not surprise you.”
With him having spent so much time in the Spring Court, prior to the war, she was inclined to believe him.
"I can’t say I know. I’ve never seen a river nymph myself,” she explained, “My life was spent in the temple. And after Hybern...until I met Nesta I spent my time buried in the library.”
His eyes grew sad on her behalf.
“Don’t do that,” she said, “Don’t look at me like I’m something to pity.”
At her annoyed tone, he winced then conceded, “Very well.”
Her watched his expression making certain he meant it, when it looked as though he did, she started again.
“May I confess something?”
He cracked a small smile, “Who am I to say no when a female wishes to bare her soul to me.”
She almost laughed. There would be no soul baring today, at least not from her.
“I came here to meet you,” she confessed.
“Yet another admission I was not expecting,” he said, waiting for her continue.
“I never cared much about my parentage for a long time. But lately...”
“You’ve started to wonder,” he finished.
She nodded, “So, will you tell me about it? The Autumn Court that my mysterious grandfather is from.”
His demeanor softened.
“Ask and I will answer what I can, Little Red.”
She grinned at the sudden nickname. She rather liked it.
---
Azriel had come back from his latest mission worn and with little good news to share.
When he’d told Rhys, his brother had made the decision that they needed meet with their allies to see if any of them knew anything else. And then discuss what contingency plans they needed to put in place.
When Nesta and Cassian had shown up, he had been surprised to see Gwyn had come with them. She made some excuse about wanting to try and get out more, and he knew was not a total lie. But something told him it wasn’t the whole truth either.
Rhys and Feyre had naturally welcomed the young woman into their home. Telling her to explore all she wanted while they discussed matters. Gwyn looked not the least bit put out about being excluded and took Feyre up on her offer to see the grounds. Before he had much of a chance to speak with her, she was gone.
Leaving him distracted throughout much of meeting, his mind wondering where she was and what she was doing. He’d admit he did that a lot these days.
He was none too pleased when he arrived in the shared living space to find Gwyn sitting beside a certain Autumn Court Exile.
Azriel stared daggers at the male sitting across the room. It was certainly not the first time he’d done so where Lucien was concerned, and he suspected it would not be the last.
As always, the other male ignored him.
Gwyn sat beside the Exiled Son of the Autumn Court, speaking animatedly.
Even Elain watched the pair, a blank expression on her face. Yet neither Lucien nor Gwyn seemed to detect their presence, or perhaps they were simply ignoring it.
No that wasn’t right. Gwyn would never do that. And Lucien, much as Azriel disliked the male, wouldn’t miss detecting his mate.
Lucien’s earlier laughter had surprised them all. It’d echoed down the halls so that they’d heard it even in the meeting room. Feyre had smiled, mentioning that it had been a long while since she’d heard the sound.
They’d all wondered at the cause. Now he knew.
The two of them sat huddled close. A strange sense of intimacy there. Surely, they’d only just met and yet they appeared at ease in one another’s company.
Jealously filled him.
He believed Gwyn when she’d said they would move past the necklace situation. And for the most part, he felt they had. But he still sensed a level of reserve from her when they trained, when he’d greeted her earlier. He knew because he was much the same.
But even before that he wasn’t sure they ever looked so easy around each other.
It wasn’t fair.
At that precise moment, Lucien got up as if to leave. Only then did the male seem to notice the rest of them standing there. He paid Azriel little to no mind, his eyes going first to his mate and then to the Rhys and Feyre who had just come up behind. Nesta and Cassian on their heels.
Since he’d come at the behest of the High Pair, he addressed them first.
“And your decision?” he asked plainly.
Rhys was the one to answer, “We will do as discussed. Share our plans with Vassa.”
Lucien nodded. Gwyn came up beside him.
“Will you return soon?” she bid, “Tell me more stories of the Autumn Court?”
An uncomfortable silence followed. No one in the room spoke a word, while Lucien studied Gwyn.
“I’m not sure,” the red-headed male answered reluctantly.
Gwyn took in the rest of the room. No doubt feeling the tension.
She turned back to Lucien.
“Oh, I mean not necessarily in an official capacity. You can just stop by to visit me,” she said with a grin.
Azriel felt Elain tense beside him.
Lucien chuckled, “I don’t think you realize how that sounds. But alright, I’ll try Little Red.”
She smiled at the nickname.
Azriel, on the other hand, was seething.
To think the male would behave in such a way in front of his mate. Things between him and Elain had been uncomfortable as of late, partly due to the necklace incident but mostly because he’d realized his feelings weren’t what he’d once believed. Still, he cared about the female and he did not like to see her upset. Especially not by the male who was supposed to care for her the most.
“Thanks, Grandpa,” Gwyn jested.
Wait, what?
Taking a quick glance around their circle, he realized everyone but Nesta looked equally confused at the comment.
“Hey, don’t go blaming me for knocking up your grandmother,” Lucien answered in mock offense, almost smirking.
“You don’t have any proof that you didn’t,” Gwyn shot back.
“I should think I’d remember if I laid with a river nymph,” the male insisted.
"You said it yourself that any member of the Autumn Court would deny such a thing,” she argued, “And while you might no longer belong to it, that court birthed and bred you.”
Lucien laughed, “Alright enough with you, I’m off to do my job.”
“Stay safe,” she said right as he winnowed away.
The other male’s smile was the last thing Azriel saw before he disappeared.
Gwyn turned to Nesta, who had come up beside her, “I rather like him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was my grandfather.”
“Ah yes, what a delight that would be,” Nesta answered sarcastically.
Everything else seemed to fade into the background. He overheard Gwyn thanking Rhys and Feyre for allowing her into their home. The other’s spoke as well but he was no longer fully listening. The tension that had been building inside him slowly ebbed away. Gwyn wasn’t interested in the other male. At least not in the way he’d feared.
“Are you alright Az?” Mor asked from behind him.
He turned to his friend, “Of course” he said without hesitation.
He wasn’t able to tell whether or not that was a lie.
He could hardly explain the relief he felt.
Somehow Azriel had forgotten Cassian mentioning that Nesta and Emerie were trying to help Gwyn learn more about her family.
Nesta’s bringing her along now made sense.
As if only now sensing his gaze on her Gwyn turned her head, eyes meeting his. She gave him a friendly smile.
He smiled back.
He needed to get ahold of himself, Gwyneth Berbara wasn’t his to lose.
She was his friend. Nothing more.
~~~
@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium
@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lovelywordsandwine
@my-fan-side
~~~
Notes: This chapter was surprisingly more difficult than the others. Partly because there isn’t much direct Azriel and Gwyn interaction which is kind of what I’m living for at this point lol. But also because I was trying to capture some of Lucien’s humor as I remember him from Book 1. It was so long ago, but man I miss that guy. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it despite the lack of one on one in this chapter. Next chapter, promise. As always, share and comment as you please =D I love reading all of your comments <3
#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#acotar#acosf#azriel x gwyn#gwynriel#azwyn#azriel#gwyneth berdara#gwyn pov#azriel pov#otp#fanfiction#read on ao3#ao3 update#Lucien#lucien vanserra
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krantt
for #trilogyappreciationweek, with thanks to @wlwkiranerys and @rannochs for being my sound board.
The one where Wrex doesn’t adopt Tali (except he kinda does) also here on ao3
~~
Everyone on the Normandy was young to Wrex. The thing about being a Krogan was that it gave you a different perspective on age. Excluding the Asari, all species burnt out bright and quick to him. But even Liara was just a kid to him, not even 200 yet.
From what he knew about Quarians however Tali was young to them too. He'd met a few Quarians on pilgrimages before; their version of the Rite of Passage from what he gathered. Except with less Thrasher maws.
Well there was one on the planet they'd gotten a distress beacon from. That probably counted.
But unlike the Rite of Passage you did it alone; not a krantt to rely on like Krogans had. Seemed lonely.
So Wrex may have decided somewhere after that mission to keep an eye on the young Quarian. She wasn't so bad. Understood all his grumbling about the Council and the bullshit they put his species through.
Though at least his species hadn't released an intelligent robot race onto the galaxy that now worshipped some old machine.
Still Tali was okay.
She just had to remain alive to be okay.
Wrex sighed as he watched her clean her shotgun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching lightly with his gloves.
"Where'd you learn how to fire that anyway?" He asked.
Tali jumped at his voice, the light in her helmet that indicated she was talking lit up when she yelped.
"Wrex! Don't sneak up on me!" Tali scolded but then her shoulders fell like she expected a scolding of her own.
Wrex merely stared.
"I..." Tali began, her nervousness coming through her tone even without facial expressions to go off on. "My father taught me. He's an Admiral." There was a touch of reverence and regret in her voice. "As his daughter I was expected to learn. Our ship could have been boarded by Geth at any moment."
Wrex hummed, loudly enough it echoed in the quiet cargo bay. Thankfully it was late enough most of the crew was asleep.
"Makes sense." He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement. "Guess the Quarians would have reason to know all that."
"We may not be the Krogan but we've seen our fair share of battles. You've seen me fight, I can handle myself." Tali practically bristled from where she sat, angry and petulant. Wrex wondered idly how many times she'd been forced to prove herself to others that it was this touchy a subject.
"Didn't say you couldn't. Could use a few tricks though."
Tali paused, caught off guard. "Oh? Like what?" If she was trying to aim for casual she failed. The curiosity shone through and her leg bounced like she could hardly contain herself.
Wrex huffed in amusement and then pulled out his own shotgun.
"Lemme show you." He said and aimed at Garrus' locker. The shot fired and he reloaded with ease, firing off another shot a second later.
Tali was up in an instant, "How did you reload so fast?" She asked in one breath, the words blending together.
Wrex chuckled, "Old trick I learned. Here, watch the wrist, keep an eye on my right finger."
"I'm not sure Garrus would like us using his locker for practice." Tali said even as she inched closer to do what he'd asked.
"Oh no an upset Turian. I'm real broken up about that." Wrex's voice was as dry as ever and Tali snorted in amusement. "Now come on, I don't got all night."
Tali stepped closer still and watched carefully as Wrex did the trick over again.
~~
"Does anyone know what happened to my locker?" Garrus asked the next morning and Tali choked on her drink.
She'd procured straws from somewhere though Wrex wasn't sure where.
"No idea." Tali said a moment after, clearing her throat.
"Maybe someone got tired of elevator conversations." Wrex suggested, leaning back in his chair with a toothy grin.
"Point taken." Garrus grumbled, "You could have just said so. Now I'll have to spend the morning replacing my locker door."
"I'll help." Tali offered and she sounded guilty. She was fidgeting again in her seat, a telling trait.
Garrus stared at Wrex who just stared back, the grin still on his face.
“Fine. Thanks Tali. I suppose that’s about all I can ask for.” Garrus was still looking at Wrex.
He rolled his eyes. “Look Garrus, you want a favour come right out and ask it.”
Garrus made an indignant noise. “I don’t think it’s a favour if I’m asking for help to fix something you wrecked.”
“Allegedly.” Wrex said and shifted in his seat just a little so his shotgun was in view.
Garrus took the warning and fled, muttering about Krogan as he did.
“Is that how Krogan always end a conversation? Showing off a shotgun?” Tali asked.
“Nah, usually there’s more bloodshed.”
“And it’s not even noon.”
“Give it time.”
~~
Tali was back in the cargo bay that night and while she’d set up one of the targets that was officially there for practicing she wasn’t firing at it but struggling with the reloading trick Wrex had been showing her.
“Any luck?”
Tali jumped at the sound of his voice again and turned to face him. “You know for someone so large you’re very light on your feet.”
“Large?” Wrex shot back, “Something you want to say to me, Quarian?”
“No.” Tali said quickly. “Um, just, you know. You are a Krogan and I haven’t met many but they are all large and-”
“Relax, kid.” Wrex cut off her rambling before it went on too long. “I knew what you meant.”
“Oh.” Tali sighed with relief and then her shoulders shot back up. “I’m not a kid you know.”
“Everyone’s a kid to me on here.” Wrex waved off her concern. “When you live as long as I have it happens.”
“Ah.” Tali said. “I suppose that would happen. I can’t imagine living for hundreds of years, you must be old to the Krogan though.”
“First I’m large, now I’m old?” Wrex snorted. “You sure know how to flatter someone.”
He couldn’t see it but he was willing to bet under his mask Tali was cringing.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway?” Wrex asked.
Tali shifted on her feet, “I can’t. It’s too quiet. Quarian ships are rather full, here it’s…” She trailed off but the fact that nothing could be heard around them, not even the hum of the engines, told Wrex everything.
Suddenly the ship felt empty and, he was sure from Tali’s perspective, lonely.
Wrex sighed, the weight of responsibility falling on him.
“You know I’m not the oldest Krogan by a long shot.” Wrex finally said, sitting down on one of the crates next to them. “There’s this ancient guy, Drack. Comes from Clan Nakmor, they’re not as big as Clan Urdnot of course but there’s a lot of them. Somehow this guy survived the Krogan Rebellions.”
“Really?” Tali asked, taking the seat next to him and crossing her legs and setting her shotgun down next to her. “I didn’t think any Krogan had survived since then.”
“There’s a few still around, some of us are just hard to kill.”
“Like you?”
“Anything that can kill me deserves it. If it can get to me first.”
“But there’s so much of you to shoot.” Tali said and her voice was teasing.
“Is this how Quarian’s live as long as they do? By being so small nothing can hit them?” Wrex asked drily.
“Hey!”
“Course one lucky shot and you’re gone. Lacking redundant systems must suck. That guy, Drack, had most of his replaced. Pretty sure he’s only still alive because Kesh would kill him otherwise.” Wrex had met Kesh a few times, once thought of her as the runt of a litter like most had. Then she’d punched him in the face and stolen his equipment from his camp. That was the thing about underestimating people, they could always surprise you.
Wrex glanced over at Tali who was swaying a little where she sat, clearly tired.
“That and he had his krantt back in the Krogan rebellions.”
“What’s a krantt?” Tali asked and then yawned loud enough Wrex could hear her jaw crack even through the helmet.
“Hard to explain it to outsiders.” Wrex admitted, grumbling a little that he felt the need to even explain it. “They’re your allies, ones you can rely on even more than family. They’ll be there to watch your back, like in the Rite of Passage.”
His krantt had died when his father betrayed him and had them all murdered before him. Wrex got his revenge but the wound was still there.
“So like Shepard.” Tali said sleepily, her helmet knocked against Wrex’s shoulders. “And you and the squad.”
“Not the same.” Wrex replied, shifting a little and if that was more comfortable to Tali to rest against him that was no one’s business but his own. “Though maybe Shepard might count.”
Wrex was coming around to her.
“Guess the rest of you aren’t so bad for aliens.” He admitted begrudgingly after the silence dwelled on them for too long.
Tali was out however, a soft hiss from her filter filled the air every time she breathed out.
“Some of you could get better aim though.” Wrex continued on in the dark of the cargo bay, letting his voice take up the empty space. “Don’t know how you lived this long. Not that us Krogan can talk with the genophage running around. Nothing left on Tuchanka even worth saving…”
~~
“Your ancestors wore that?” Tali asked in disbelief, staring at the armor Shepard had recovered for Wrex. He couldn’t see it but was willing to bet her face was scrunched up in disgust.
“I don’t think a Quarian is allowed to give me advice on a suit.” Wrex deadpanned, moving the armor to sit at his feet.
They’d had another session of training, Tali was really coming along with the reloading trick.
Then she’d asked him about the mission he went on that day with Shepard and Liara and he’d reluctantly pulled the armor out of the box he’d set it in.
“I think a Quarian is probably the best option for that.” Tali shot back. “We do spend our lives in them after all. It doesn’t hurt to make them look good.”
“Then what happened to yours?” Wrex asked and tried not to laugh as Tali turned her head at him in what was certainly a glare.
“I have a shotgun.” Tali warned him.
“Try that excuse on the Turian, not on me.” Wrex said and let out another booming laugh.
“You’re right,” Tali said, her voice too chipper to be real, “I’d never make it past all your layers with one shot.”
Wrex broke out in a loud laugh. “You’ve got quads, Quarian.”
“I have a name.” Tali said, all hints of laughter chased from her tone.
“Yeah yeah, not bad.” He paused and inclined his head. “Tali.”
The pleased smug smile she was wearing was obvious even if it couldn’t be seen.
“Too bad you still need to practice your shots.” He couldn’t help but add.
Tali huffed and grabbed her gun and without hesitation fired it at the training dummy. She flicked her wrist and reloaded with the shell she had in her hand already and fired again in only seconds.
Wrex watched with something that might have even been pride.
~~
“What was that?” Tali asked, her voice a little high pitched as the noises continued around them like nothing they’d ever heard before.
Noveria was not a place Wrex had ever cared to visit and he doubted he’d have any better memories of it now.
“Probably debris.” He said, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find the cause of it. “Don’t have a panic attack, I’ll protect you.”
The swarmers came out from nowhere under their feet and Shepard cursed.
Wrex fired his shotgun though it might have been easier to just squish the bugs under his feet rather than fire at them.
“Keelah,” Tali swore as they encroached further towards her. She scrambled back and nearly fell but Wrex shot out an arm to grab and steady her.
“It’s not over yet.” Wrex yelled and fired off another shot as the swarmers came closer.
“I’m going to have nightmares from this.” Tali muttered, Wrex only just close enough to hear it.
“At least you’ll live through it to have them.” Wrex said and kicked a swarmer that came close. It went flying and splattered against the walls.
Next to him he heard Tali reload and fire her shotgun over and over again.
~~
Tali was fiddling with something on her omnitool when Wrex arrived that week, this time when he called her name she didn’t jump but looked up and nodded her head at him.
“Wrex.” She said, “Sorry but I’m a little busy tonight.”
Wrex shrugged. “No skin off my back, this have something to do with the data Shepard got?” He nodded at the omnitool in Tali’s hand.
Ever since she and Kaidan had come back from a mission on geth intel she’d been invested in it. Hadn’t even come up to eat with the group.
“I’m planning on taking this back to the fleet to complete my pilgrimage – when this is all over of course.” Tali said, so fast Wrex could barely make it out. Her leg was bouncing in her excitement again. “This data could help us plan against the geth! I’m trying to get a headstart into deciphering it.”
“Not bad for an Admiral’s daughter, bet he’d be proud.” Unlike his father.
Wrex never was the conventional enough Krogan for him.
Because they’d spent so many months fighting side by side Wrex had gotten good at telling Tali’s body language even if he couldn’t see her face. So he could tell it’d fallen a little at that remark.
“I hope he is.” Tali said wistfully. “I was worried about going back to the fleet with nothing much to show.”
“And now you’ll show you helped stopped an invasion and picked up some random data along the way.” Wrex sat down next to her and groaned like it was an annoyance to him. He stretched out, his foot nudging Tali’s. “Bet other Quarians can’t say the same.”
“No.” Tali brightened, her back straightening. “They can’t.”
Wrex grunted and fell back. “Wake me up when you decide it’s time to do something practical like shoot at something though.”
“This is practical!” Tali said hotly, “You saw how far the Geth have advanced, with this data we could see if there’s a pattern to where they’re coming out of the Veil and-”
Wrex let Tali’s words wash over him and shut his eyes.
~~
They lost Kaidan on Virmire and everyone was a little more withdrawn, a little angrier, and more than a little ready to end it.
“I’ve lost friends before,” Tali admitted that night. “But not like this.”
Wrex didn’t say anything. Keeping quiet even as Tali curled up at his side with the hiss of her filter staticky in her held back sobs filling the air.
Krantt weren’t supposed to die like that.
Good thing his fellow squad members weren’t krantt.
It helped him sleep that night for what little he did get.
~~
He was never one for emotional goodbyes or just goodbyes period.
Which is why when Wrex left the Normandy he did it by only telling Shepard and leaving one thing behind.
Shotguns were nice and all but if he was about to try to sit in a room and make peace with a bunch of clan idiots then it wouldn’t do him any good.
Tali would put it to better use.
~~
It took two years before he saw someone from the Normandy’s crew again but Shepard was standing right there on Tuchanka.
He clasped her arm and squeezed, trying to convey his relief at seeing Shepard again.
To Shepard’s right he heard a cough and looked over to see Tali.
“Good to see you too, Wrex.” Tali said and Wrex squinted at her. She looked roughly the same, maybe a little taller and bigger. Her suit had changed a little, looked fancier from what he could tell.
The shotgun at her hip was more than little familiar to him.
“Shepard got you caught up in her mess again, hunh?”
“Had to pick Tali up from a planet, she needed a little help.” Shepard said and grinned at the both of them.
“Always getting into trouble.” Wrex intoned.
“At least I’m getting out.” Tali said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to have gotten even bigger just sitting on your throne.”
The throne in question stung a little for Wrex. He hadn’t really wanted it, symbolically or literally. His brother put together the stones to shape that way more as a mockery and bitter anger he hadn’t gotten the title or respect Wrex had.
He grunted and Tali must have noticed she struck a nerve because she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted in the same way she used to back on the Normandy when she was feeling guilty.
Before she could say anything he slapped her on the back, making her yelp and almost stumble over her own feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Tali whipped her head to glare at him from under her helmet.
He laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t be jealous just because I have somewhere to sit on my homeworld.”
Apparently two years weren’t long enough to stop him from remembering the old Normandy crew’s quirks because Wrex could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.
It seemed Tali had gotten tougher skin in the intervening years.
At least she was still standing.
“So,” Wrex said and dropped his arm away from Tali’s shoulder to take a seat back on his throne. “What brings you here?”
Shepard stepped forward and gestured at Grunt and Wrex leaned in to see what was wrong.
~~
Word traveled fast and before Shepard had even made it off the battlegrounds Wrex had heard about the fallen Thresher maw.
Granting Grunt a title in Clan Urdnot was easier after that. Though Wrex would have been lying if he’d said he wouldn’t have given Shepard and Tali a title too if they asked.
Shepard wandered off, chasing after Grunt who had decided to challenge some Krogans standing near a pit, leaving Tali alone with him.
“So that was your Pilgrimage?” Tali asked, “I’m amazed any of you make it into adulthood.”
“Right,” Wrex said drily, “Nothing like sending our young out into the galaxy without a credit to their name and just hoping they make it back.”
Tali tilted her head, a silent acknowledgment.
“You taking care of that thing?” He nodded at the shotgun at her hip.
“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you, by the way. It would have been nicer to thank you in person however.”
Wrex shrugged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”
“Uh hunh.” Tali said, her tone one of disbelief.
“Surprised you joined the whelp there in his Rite of Passage.” Wrex glanced over at Grunt and then back at Tali. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of deal.”
“Well.” Tali shifted on her feet, looking away. “I remembered something an old Krogan told me about krantts and the importance of them in the Rite.”
Wrex blinked in surprise.
“Hm.” He leaned back in the throne. “Not bad for a Quarian.”
“Tali, come on!” Shepard called out to her and Tali straightened up at her name.
“See you later, Wrex. Take care of yourself. Though I suppose that’s easier to do if you’re doing nothing but sitting.” Her tone was cheerful as she said it.
“Don’t forget who taught you those tricks of yours.” Wrex said, there was no real hint of warning in his voice- if anything it was jovial.
Tali nodded at him and walked off.
Wrex sunk into his chair, taking the next datapad he needed to look at about Clan Weyloc with him. It seemed like Tali wasn’t so young anymore.
Two years could make a lot of differences to species who didn’t live that long.
Wrex wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
~~
“You heard from Tali?” Wrex asked Liara one day when they were sitting in the lounge. He’d pulled her away from those screens of hers, the tightness in her eyes worried him a little.
Everyone else was back on board except for Tali and Ashley but Ashley he at least had heard about. She’d recovered from her injuries and even had a Spectre status to her name. Tali though no one seemed to know anything about.
“Our last interaction was months ago.” Liara said. She dragged a hand over her face and Wrex pretended not to see the wetness on her fingers as she pulled it away. “I’ve heard very little from Quarian space. It seems they’ve just gone silent.”
His grasp around his cup tightened, the glass crinkling underneath his grip.
“I’m certain she’s fine however. I saw her when Shepard came to help me with the Shadow Broker. She was…broken up about her father still but didn’t let that interfere with the mission.”
“Her father?” Wrex asked, frowning.
“He died. Shepard says he woke up some of the Geth units that Tali had sent him. The Admiralty put her on trial for it.”
“Those idiots did what?” Wrex growled, slamming the glass on to the table. “Have they even met Tali? She’s the last person who would take chances with the geth.”
“That’s what Shepard said.” Liara replied, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. “I wouldn’t worry Wrex, Tali can take care of herself.”
“Who said anything about worry?” Wrex blustered but he knew Liara wasn’t buying it. “I just think there’s a whole lot of stupid in this world that needs to be taken care of.”
Liara hummed and let it slide, “From last I heard she’s working along with the Admiralty board.”
Wrex scoffed.
He understood it certainly, those were Tali’s people. She cared about them the same way he cared about the Krogan, probably more since she didn’t seem to hate half of them. Maybe the genophage hadn’t ravaged her people but the war with the Geth had. He was willing to bet she’d taken on more responsibility than was reasonable.
And no one was even with her to watch her back.
“So,” Liara tactfully changed the subject, “What will you do when the genophage is cured.”
Wrex grinned widely. “Finish kicking the Reaper’s ass for the rest of the galaxy.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Liara said, shaking her head but the smile she wore was genuine at least and the shadows in her eyes had receded however little it was.
“The Asari can thank us later.” Wrex took his drink back up and chugged it the rest of the way. There might have been some broken glass in there but it made little difference to him.
He put Tali out of mind for the time, he was sure they both had bigger issues to worry about.
~~
Only Shepard could get a clone that would try to take over her life.
In all honesty, Wrex had missed the chaos.
And being with the crew.
Kaidan was still a notable absence, especially whenever Ashley was standing next to Shepard and would just lean over like she was about to say something to someone and then realized they were no longer there. Old habits died hard even years later it seemed.
No one mentioned it.
Shepard opted to take Ashley and Brooks to the casino with her, leaving the rest of them to the apartment. EDI and Liara took to monitoring the channel in case Shepard needed anything, Vega had taken over the tv, Garrus and Joker were shooting jokes back and forth at each other about Turians and humans, and Javik was just standing creepily in the corner.
Wrex still didn’t know what to make of the Prothean. Shepard found the weirdest people to call squadmates.
“So I heard there’s a cure for your people.” Tali said as she took a seat next to him. Her glass was filled with something alcoholic with a straw stuck in it so she could drink it.
“And I heard you made nice with the Geth.” Wrex said, taking a gulp of his own drink.
“Who’d have thought we’d be here now.” Tali raised her glass in a toast and then took a sip.
“Probably Shepard.” Wrex grumbled though it wasn’t really critical. “She always did keep talking about making a difference.” And apparently Wrex had listened. He wasn’t sure what was worse.
At least taking a risk with her had panned out.
“You should visit Rannoch,” Tali said, “The Geth didn’t do upkeep much on the buildings they weren’t inhabiting, it might even feel like Tuchanka to you. Except greener.” Tali sounded proud and Wrex caught the twitch in her leg. This time like she was stopping herself from bouncing as she talked excitedly about her homeworld. “It’s all so new. Can I even call it new? It is technically old to us. Old like you are- wait you must have seen what it looked like before…” She shifted, looking up at him.
“I didn’t go much in Quarian space.” Wrex admitted. “Never had a reason to. Didn’t think I’d be around Quarians much.”
He could hear the smirk in her voice. “And yet here you are.”
“Mistakes may have been made.” Wrex drawled and snorted when Tali tried to glare at him from under her helmet. “I’ll see if I can make my way out there. When all this is done. Who knows maybe the council will award us Rannoch. Then you’d have to fight us for it.” He grinned at Tali. “Good luck getting it back then.”
She was rolling her eyes, he knew it.
“We’d manage.” Tali said, sniffing indignantly. “We’re tougher than you think.”
“Yeah.” Wrex agreed, glancing over at her. “So it seems.”
“I mean. We took down a Reaper. Without using a Thresher maw even.”
Wrex threw his head back and laughed. “Only because I bet Quarian’s guard dogs would catch a cold if they went outside.”
“Speaking of dogs I heard Jack got herself a pet varren, I wonder how one of those would do on Rannoch…”
“Bad idea, kid.” Wrex said but leaned back to listen to Tali go on about it anyway.
~~
It’d been years since he’d seen Tali in a firefight. The ride down the elevator to the cargo bay had him glance over at her.
“You been practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast-reloading trick I showed you?” He asked.
Tali’s back straightened. “You know, I've taken care of myself for the past few years.”
Of that he had no doubt. She would have had to with everything going on the galaxy right then and even before it from what Wrex had heard of what happened to her father.
“I know. I'm old and I worry, even though my favourite Quarian's all grown up and killing Reapers.” He sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to admit that.
“You're like the crazy head butting uncle I never had.” Tali told him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her voice.
Whatever response he was going to have was lost when the doors opened and Shepard raced after her clone.
In the end he pulled both Tali and Shepard back up into the cargo bay before they fell to the Citadel streets below.
“Thanks, Wrex.” Shepard said, slightly out of breath. She stood up and pinged Joker on the comms.
Tali sat on the ground next to him, shaking a little.
He nudged her.
“You okay?”
To his surprise Tali started laughing, falling onto the floor on her back and giggling.
“You ever think about how weird our lives are?” Tali asked between her laughter.
“All the time.” Wrex sighed. “I had it much easier before all of you.”
“Aw but Wrex.” Tali sat up and he was certain she was grinning. “Then you wouldn’t have met your favourite Quarian.”
Wrex rolled his eyes.
“Does that make Garrus your favourite Turian? And Liara your favourite Asari? I bet Shepard’s the favourite human, right? Can I tell them?” Tali asked, snickering.
He almost wished he could have said that she reminded him of the Tali he’d known years ago who was lighter and freer of responsibilities but even back then she bore a weight on her back.
“No one would believe it.” He turned his head a little so Tali would miss his grin.
“I bet they would.” Tali said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re a little soft around us Wrex, I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”
“You take that back.” Wrex grumbled, looking back to frown at her.
“If it makes you feel better you’re my favourite Krogan.” Tali told him, matter of fact.
It did make him feel a little better, not that he was going to say it.
“Yeah yeah, head-butting uncle, I heard.”
“At least your hearing isn’t going in your old age then.”
~~
Wrex certainly proved the head-butting part later that week when Grunt challenged him at the party.
Laughter rang out all around them, the apartment alive as everyone who had once been a part of the Normandy crew shared stories.
Though some of them he’d never met they all shared the common bond of getting dragged into the craziest shit with Shepard.
Glancing around he noticed a certain Quarian was missing and heaved himself away from the balcony with a sigh. It didn’t take long to find Tali nearly passed out in the bathroom.
“I knew you were a lightweight.” Wrex said, looking down at Tali and huffing with a laugh.
“Wrex!” Tali yelled, too loud even over the blasting music.
“Think you can stand or you too out of it?” He asked, amused as Tali hiccuped.
“I am not too out of it.” Tali denied but still lay on the floor. “I am still looking for answers is all.”
“Answers?”
Tali nodded but then held a hand to her helmet like she regretted the movement a second later. “Shepard said the answers to my father are the bottom of the glass. I am still looking.”
Wrex rolled his eyes, “Shepard also thinks she could survive a head butting contest with a krogan. Come on,” He said and leaned down to drag Tali up right.
“Do you think I made him proud? I am not certain he made me proud.” Tali rambled as Wrex started to drag her towards one of the many bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess she was still talking about her father. “I thought he had all the answers once; but they were just lies he told me.” Her voice was bitter and Wrex paused.
“Kid no one has all the answers and as for your dad, well. Parents are complicated. At least he didn’t try to kill you.”
“Oh.” Tali said, trailing out the word too long. “I suppose you have me there, Wrex.”
“Always nice to beat a Quarian at something.” Wrex kept moving then.
“Pfft, you don’t want to beat me, I am your favourite.”
“Really going to milk that one, hunh?”
Tali was beaming under her helmet, this close up he could just make out a grin. “It means a lot to me.”
Wrex made a few mock grumbling noises. “Don’t you people have the ability to flush out toxins or something.”
“I will!” Tali said brightly and then hung her head. “In a minute.”
Wrex got to the bed and dumped her on it. “There. Now you can also sleep it off.” Tali flopped around on the bed, making Wrex drag a hand over his face. “This is humiliating for the both of us, kid.”
“I’m not a kid!” Tali complained, her tone the near exact it had been three years ago in the cargo bay. “You even said I was all grown up! And and-” She swayed when she tried to sit up. “Killing Reapers!” She finished victoriously.
Wrex chuckled and pushed her back down, “Yeah you are. I’m proud of you for it. You’re no Kalros but you can pack a punch with that bot of yours.”
“Chitika goes for the optics!” Tali said but it was slightly muffled by her turning her face into the bedsheets.
Wrex snorted when she began to do the wheezy breath with her filter that meant she was out again.
“Your dad’s an idiot.” He told the sleeping Tali and then trudged back to the party.
~~
Tali wasn’t wrong. Rannoch was greener than Tuchanka but a lot of the land had been turned into Geth hubs that were now being dismantled to turn into homes.
Having them so near still creeped Wrex out with their flashlight heads, he wished for a moment Ashley was there to share in his commisery of it but she was still on Earth. After the last battle most of them had headed for their homeworlds while mourning the loss of Shepard.
He’d spent a few months on Tuchanka overseeing building plans for expansion and watching the first of his children grow a little and then gotten the invitation from Tali to “see what a real planet looks like”.
“If this is what qualifies as a real planet I’m not impressed.” Wrex intoned as Tali greeted him at the shuttle pad.
She stepped up to fling her arms around him and pulled him into a hug that he returned with a sigh.
“I’m surprised you made it off that scrap of rock you call one so quickly. I didn’t think you’d accept my invite for another year at least.” Tali stepped back and was fidgeting.
Her mask was off and Wrex squinted a little to view her face. He grunted lightly, “Thought you might be in trouble. Or in need of some good old fashioned Krogan strength to move things.”
Tali rolled her eyes, “This is just a friendly visit.” She said but was still shifting on her feet and wringing her hands. “I wanted to show you how far we’d come.”
Wrex tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was Tali was hiding. Without her mask it was easier to see her avert her eyes. “Well, I also thought I should see my krantt.” He finally said just to see her reaction.
Tali’s face shot up, her gaze meeting his and her mouth dropped in surprise. “I thought you didn’t have a krantt anymore.”
That’s what he’d thought too until three years ago. But he wasn’t about to lie to himself anymore. The Normandy crew would always be important to him.
Wrex just shrugged in response to her though.
Tali bounced on her feet and grinned up at him. “I see the end of the war really has made you soft.” She said, her voice sly. “How are raising babies?”
Wrex grunted. “Almost as annoying as watching over a baby Quarian.”
“Hey!” Tali reached out to whack his shoulder but just hurt her hand instead. She pulled it back with a pout.
“But I’d be glad if they grew up as well as she did.” Wrex admitted a second after even as he laughed.
Her shoulders straightened at that and Tali stood a little taller. “Thanks. I’d hope my father would be able to say the same thing.” Her eyes darted away again at the comment and it clicked to Wrex.
He truly was getting old and soft because instead of dropping it he stepped closer to nudge Tali. “Guess I can be proud in his place then.”
Tali hesitated only a second before she smiled at him again. It was a little sad this time but the sincerity was there. “Come on old man, I’ll show you why we Quarians were once considered the best builders.”
“So long as it looks better than your suits.”
Tali whacked his arm again, a lesson not learnt the first time.
“You’re lucky I don’t have a shotgun right now.” She warned him.
“You couldn’t match me even with one.” Wrex said back but it had no bite. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.
She probably actually could though he’d never admit it.
After all, he’d taught her the best tricks in the books.
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to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)
He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.
“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”
Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.
(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)
Chapter Warnings: swearing
Chapter Word Count: 6,292
Pairing: platonic Thomceit
(part 1) (part 2)
(masterpost w/ ao3 links)
They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
So, he decides to try a different approach.
“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.
“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”
Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”
He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”
Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.
“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”
“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”
“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.
Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”
“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”
“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”
Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.
“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”
From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.
“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”
Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”
He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”
Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”
He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.
“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”
Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”
“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”
“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”
Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.
“Virgil—”
“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”
“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”
“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”
“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?
Would he be right not to?
“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?
He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.
“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”
Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”
There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.
“What?” Logan asks.
“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”
He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—
Oh. Wait.
“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”
Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”
His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.
“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”
Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”
Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.
He hopes they know that.
“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”
Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”
Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”
Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.
And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.
“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”
Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”
Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”
Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.
“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.
Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.
He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.
-------------
He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.
He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.
He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.
“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.
And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.
“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.
But just for a moment, and that is all.
“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”
Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.
“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”
As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.
He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.
“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”
Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”
He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.
Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.
“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”
He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.
“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”
Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.
“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”
Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”
And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—
He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.
And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?
He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?
What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?
“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”
“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.
“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”
Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.
“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.
Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—
“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.
“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”
“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”
“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”
He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.
“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.
“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”
The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.
“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.
Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.
“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.
“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.
The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.
So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.
“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”
Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.
“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”
Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.
“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”
Janus shudders at the sound of his name.
“Can you promise that?” he asks.
And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.
“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”
Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.
“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”
“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”
Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?
Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?
“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”
“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”
He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.
“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”
He pauses.
“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”
They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.
Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.
So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.
------------
It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.
Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.
Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.
“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.
Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.
“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.
They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.
And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.
“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.
Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.
“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.
Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.
Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.
-------------
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#sanders sides#ts sides#platonic thomceit#character!thomas#janus sanders#ts janus#logan sanders#ts logan#virgil sanders#ts virgil#my fic#long post#that's a wrap folks!
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okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:
Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old
Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill
Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this
so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.
s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...
Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things
*nice for Xue Yang
from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.
here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons
in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??
because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell
because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”
this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.
obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason
Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.
Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...
we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion
now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging
[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]
we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -
it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse. LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...
SO
...I neither know nor care what happens in s5
it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.
I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?
which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun
More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.
the end
Addenda:
it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.
Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him
we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.
idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have
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because i was a fool for loving her over you (and if i call i really hope you’ll call me ‘cause i’m not over you)
Fandom: Choujin Sentai Jetman
Characters: Tendou Ryuu, Yuki Gai, Rokumeikan Kaori, Hayasaka Ako
Song: “Empress,” Morningsiders (playlist here)
Note: Alternate title for this story is “The Jetman Trap (1992) starring Hayasaka Ako”
Directly following the defeat of the Vyram there are several days of frantic, exhausted reports and debriefings and meetings, some of which take place in hospital rooms where the various team members are receiving medical care, and then once those are done there is a month total, blissful peace. The Jetmen return to their homes to rest and recuperate. Raita is able to begin the spring planting, Ako to consider and then reject university entrance exams, Ryuu to mourn the second death of his first love, Gai to brush up on his saxophone in preparation for going back to his usual occupation, and Kaori to spend a day with her parents for the first time in ages. Perhaps they’ll be called upon to save the world again, but hopefully not.
At the end of that month, though, comes a strange moment of confluence as in a sumptuous mansion, in a mediocre bar, in a sparsely-decorated military apartment, three people find themselves staring into space and sighing heavily as they murmur, “Well, I screwed that up.”
---
Gai is there when Ryuu finally asks Kaori to dinner, and he’s mature enough by now to admit that it stings somewhat to hear, just as he’s still immature enough to find Ryuu’s gut-punched expression when she turns him down a little bit funny.
“Why?” Ryuu manages to stammer out after a moment, and then he visibly backpedals—“which is to say, of course if you don’t want to I respect that.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Why now?”
“Well, I, I…I just realized that I’ve wasted so much time on obsessing over the past that I never actually gave…other options…any fair consideration. And because I like you, Kaori, you’re a dear friend, and I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Well, I’m not interested in being your runner-up.” And that haughty little chin tilt, the one she doesn’t actually pull out too often, and Gai is trying not to eavesdrop, really he is, but she’s just so wonderful to watch when she decides to put the rich blood on. “Ask me again when you want me and aren’t just ‘giving me fair consideration,’” with a hand gesture that manages to indicate quotation marks while concealing how hurt she actually looks.
Then she leaves, and Ryuu stares after her until she’s out of sight before turning to Gai and saying, sounding bewildered, “I did something wrong there, didn’t I. You heard all that, right? Did I do something wrong there?”
Gai takes a sip of his drink—a soda water, he’s trying to drink less alcohol. “I think you might have messed up a little, yeah. Nobody likes to feel like they’re a fallback option.”
---
Ryuu is there when Kaori asks Gai to try meeting her parents again, and it’s a little painful to hear, but not as much as the hissing argument that it devolves into. Nothing that either of them says is untrue, but all of it is put unkindly, two injured people cutting further pieces out of each other in the hopes that it might make everything more even. He’s unexpectedly hurt by the realization that they slept together, probably more than once, even though they’re both mature adults and certainly didn’t need to consult him about it.
Of course, in the end, Gai is the one who stalks off, mouth tight and brow furrowed, and Ryuu almost chases after him—but that would mean leaving Kaori by herself. She stares after Gai for a moment, looking forlorn, and then turns and buries her face in Ryuu’s chest and bursts into tears. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” she sobs, and he pats her shoulder awkwardly and offers reassurances that he’s not sure he means.
“It’s all right,” he says, staring over her head in the direction Gai went and trying not to focus too much on the warmth of her body pressed up against his. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance to talk things out with him.”
---
Things are still very busy on the farm, so Raita’s not with them, but the other four meet up at a park as the weather starts to warm up. Ako and Kaori are sitting together sharing a thermos of tea and a basket of cookies while Ryuu and Gai play catch when Ako says, “So how are things with you guys?”
Kaori blinks down into her cup and says, carefully, “It’s a bit lonely without the team all together, but I’ve been doing well, thank you. How is school? You’re graduating soon, right?”
“I am, but you know that’s not what I was asking. How are things with you three. You and Ryuu and Gai.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, don’t give me that, you totally know what I mean.” Ako shoves an entire cookie into her mouth, chews, swallows, and continues with her mouth still partially full. “Honestly if I didn’t already like girls better I think watching you three would have made me prefer them, guys just seem like a hassle.”
Kaori does not choke on her tea, but only through main force. “You like girls?”
“Don’t you? I mean, have you seen girls?”
“I…I suppose I’ve never considered it.”
“Huh. Well, anyway, girls are amazing, not the point, I’m worried about you guys. Which one of them do you actually like?”
Kaori doesn’t answer, she just stares down at her hands.
Ako’s eyes go wide. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”
“What, what do you mean, it’s like what?”
“Have Ryuu and Gai figured out that they’re in love yet or are they still being dumb boys about it?”
“Have—Ryuu and Gai are what?”
“Come on, you have to have noticed.”
Kaori looks over at where Ryuu and Gai have abandoned their game and are sprawled on the ground side by side, catching their breath. Their hands just barely touch, there in the grass, and. She knows. She does know. She’s known for ages now. She’s just been pretending not to, because it hurts to be certain that in the end she won’t ever be the one. But all she says is, “Oh.”
Ako nods, looking unwholesomely knowing for someone who’s not even out of high school, and eats another cookie.
---
“Hey,” Ako says over the phone, “can I introduce you to a friend of mine?”
Kaori thinks about it for a long, long moment, and then says, “Yes, I would like that.”
---
Ryuu says, “I don’t really think I’m ready to try to meet someone new yet, but…sure.”
---
Gai says, “My number isn’t listed, how did you even get it? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what you get up to. Yeah, why not.”
---
None of them quite process what she’s done to them until they’re all seated at the restaurant and a waiter is approaching with a telephone to inform them that they’ve received a call. Ryuu is the one who answers, and he doesn’t even start with a greeting, he just says, “Ako, I hope you can understand that I’m a little upset with you right now.”
“You’ll get over it,” she says cheerfully, her voice tinny through the phone receiver. “I hear that restaurant’s really nice, anyway, I hope you three have a good dinner!”
“Don’t hang up, Gai wants to speak to you.”
Gai takes the phone and says, in the most affectionate, big-brotherly voice he can summon, “Ako, you’re a horrible brat and the next time I see you I’m going to spank you because clearly your parents never did it enough.”
“I love you too, and you’ll have to catch me first. Is it Kaori’s turn to be mad at me now?”
Kaori does take the phone, but all does is say, stiffly, “Goodbye, Ako,” and then hang up, turning as she does to smile at the waiter (who is doing his best to not look interested) and say, “If we could have ice water, please, we’ll need a few minutes before we’re ready to order.”
An uncomfortable beat after the waiter leaves, in which they all keep glancing at each other and then looking away, before Ryuu said, “So are we ordering? Or are we all just leaving? Because I want to say we leave, but honestly I’m hungry.”
Gai pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lady’s choice, I guess. I need a drink, but I can get that anywhere.”
They turn to her, and she looks between the two of them, how they incline ever so slightly towards each other even as they’re also inclining towards her, and how could she choose? Even if she did want to separate them when they were clearly so perfect for each other, how could she pick one and leave the other?
Ako’s knowing voice echoes in her head. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”
Oh, says her heart. It’s like that.
She covers her face with her hands, not crying, because everything makes sense in a way that she’s not entirely prepared for and if she starts crying now then she may never stop. “I think,” she says into her palms, breath not hitching, she is speaking so evenly that they certainly won’t be able to tell how overwhelmed she is, “I think, I think we should order dinner, and I think we all need to talk.”
Ryuu and Gai both speak at the same time, and what they both say is, “Whatever you say, Kaori.”
---
“So that sounds like it went well,” Kyoko says, not looking up from where she’s hunting through her box of nail polish. “Which one of them threatened to spank you? Was it the hot one with the motorcycle? He seems like he’d be into that.”
“Kyoko!” Ako throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be gross, he didn’t even mean it like that.”
“What? I’m not saying I want him to spank me, I’m just saying he seems like that kind of guy. There we go.” She lifts a bottle of deep blue polish out of the box. “You want your fingers and toes to match, or do I need to find another color too?”
---
The next morning the phone in Ako’s little apartment rings, and when she picks it up, Gai just starts in with, “Look, threat rescinded, but don’t do that to me ever again.”
She giggles. “So did you have a nice time? I hope you were safe.”
Sputtering on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a dirty mind for a kid. Nothing happened. We talked.”
“All night? I can hear Kaori’s voice. And Ryuu’s. Who was in the middle?”
“Threat unrescinded, you’re going to catch it the next time I see you.” And in the background, Kaori’s joyful laughter, Ryuu asking where the coffee is, something muffled from Gai as he definitely covers the receiver for a moment, and then, “Thank you. Stay out of my love life from now on, you’re a nightmare.”
Ako says, “Love you too, Gai. Tell the other two I say hi,” and then drops the phone back onto its cradle. A moment to just grin smugly at nothing, and then she whirls around to shout, gleefully, “Kyoko! I didn’t screw it up!”
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Surrender
So, I spend a fair bit of time in a supernatural soap opera world I made up. The background is crazy but I’m finally biting the bullet and posting a fic. You don’t have to know much about it for this one, though - he’s a Demon and the most powerful resident the Underworld has ever seen, she’s a Vampire, a little kink adjacent, interested in maybe learning a bit of magick. And they’re a mutually very devoted couple.
I make an attempt at what they look like here . Also this one, which I posted here a while ago, sorry about repeats.
Any questions, please ask!
But anyway...
----
She loves watching him.
Sometimes too much, perhaps, since despite this demonstration being very specifically done for her benefit, she’s allowed herself to become lost in mellifluous cadence of rich velvet baritone and the dance of long, elegant fingers weaving accompanying airpatterns as illustration, a smooth and balletic fluidity of motion seeming almost at odds with that commanding, tall and broad-shouldered physique, the imposing force of presence, radiant authority that draws all eyes upon him everywhere he goes, and thusly she’s neglected to actually...well, comprehend anything. Again. And now he pauses, the small cluster of leaves he’s holding without touch hovering midair between them, and looks at her in expectation, encouragement.
Am I supposed to say something now? Oh god, I’m supposed to say something now. Kia gazes up at Cerberus – and the leaves, the introductory Kinesis exercise he’s showing her the mechanics of – from her tree-stump seat in the woodland copse and wonders how she can reasonably ask him to repeat everything he’s just explained without having to admit that she didn’t pay proper attention because he’s so fucking stunning he’s practically cinematic.
Although, she finds herself noting with interest, she…may not have to admit anything quite yet. A momentary frown and vague flicker of confusion crosses his face, the piercing intense focus in those famed eyes of emerald becoming hazy, falling away, and he inhales sharply, shakily, glances upwards and pauses in a completely different kind of expectation before inhaling sharply again, more deeply this time.
She loves watching him surrender.
Ah?
Huh. Not now, apparently, as breathy anticipation stalls and fades, eventually dissolving unfulfilled.
He wrinkles his nose, rubs it a few times, shakes his head in curt negation. “Sorry, love. *snf!* Thought I was going to sneeze.”
Indeed. As if she needs to be told, and she smiles just a little, inclines her head in acknowledgement. Her gaze remains fixed on him as he takes another short pause, brief frown, twitch of the nostrils, then with a quiet Hm, another sniffle and a very slight shrug, he returns his attention to the original matter at hand. The leaves have remained in Kinetic hold throughout, and she’s not as surprised as she otherwise might be; she’s more than well aware that he’s exceptionally skilled. The best ever. This is nothing for him, no more than an effortless parlour trick.
“Darkling?” he prompts, and she knows he’s referring to the question he’d asked her earlier that she hadn’t been paying the proper kind of attention to. Unfortunately, she has even less of an idea now than she did before, which she hadn’t really thought was possible but oh well here we are, and he definitely expects an answer – or at least he does for a moment, until she’s saved again by a returning and clearly more acute distraction.
“Oh, one moment, I…” His brow creases and he turns aside from her in magnificent profile, a gods-forged angular precision entirely at the mercy of whatever stealth tormentor is apparently bothering him right now. “Hh-hh…”
She loves watching him surrender because he does it so rarely but he does it so well, so absolutely, this man who submits to nothing, to nobody. Except, of course, to her…and except, perhaps, to this – this simple, common, insistent and equalising need, and she warms at the thought as her beloved, the all-powerful Demon king,
loses control.
He inhales deeply, urgently, and altogether gives in to a bracing double, almost doubling over with the force of it, heavy and demanding. “Hhh-AHTSSCHHUU! ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” She catches the fleeting, almost startled look in his eyes as he glances across to her in apology, as if he’s surprised to find himself capable of such ferocious capitulation, as if he hadn’t been gearing up for precisely that outcome all those expectant moments before. A wet sniffle as he presses a firm hand beneath his nose to no avail, his breath staccato, and hitches into another mighty sneeze. “Huh…ah-HH… AAHTSSCHHUU! Gods. *SNF!* Pardon me.”
“Bless you,” she purrs.
Pushing a curtain of long, disarrayed ebony hair back from his face, he thanks her quickly, sniffles again, frowns and rubs his nose with purposeful determination. Annoyance now mixes with perplexity, and he pinches the bridge of his nose against the still-insistent irritation, blinking rapidly, and gives a brief, crisp shake of his head, as if by sheer willpower he can refute this, end this here and now.
As if his focus wasn’t already unstoppably disintegrating anew.
She loves watching him try to regain his composure. Oh, he’s not going to succeed – the helpless shift in his expression tells her clearly that this is a battle already lost…and once committed, he’s never been the type to do things by halves.
“Damn it, excuse m…” He manages to Create a handkerchief in a lucid micromoment, burying his face in it as he succumbs again. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Gods, I…I don’t know wh-hH… hh-HHAHTSSCCHU!” He groans heavily, almost a growl, sighs with frustration palpable, and offers her another apology, however unnecessary that may be.
Always the gentleman. A soft, private smile crosses her face as a craving heat suffuses her. “Bless you!” Her interest does not mean disregard for her love’s comfort, though. “Are you okay?”
He gives her a quick nod, blows his nose and sniffles in tremulous, uncertain recovery awhile, steadying himself as best he can, before looking over at her through increasingly reddened and watery eyes. “Um, if you…” His breath, still erratic, catches in encore, and he crushes the back of his hand against his nose in steely denial, sniffles hard. “If you… *SNF!* If you don’t mind, though, perhaps a… ah… Hh-hh… Ohgodswhatthe…”
His hard-fought-for composure crumbles in seconds. “Ahh-TSCHH-uu! *SNFF!*” Another series of sniffles follow; he exhales heavily, wipes his eyes, and turns from her to once more blow his nose. “Goddamn it,” he mutters. “Pardon me…again.” He pushes his hair back from his face and clears his throat, and the insistent itch actually seems to back off a little, giving him a moment of respite, though he’s not at all confident about how much longer his fortune will hold. He suspects – much to his wary displeasure – that the likely answer is not very, and he presses his fingers against still-rebellious sinuses, attempts to reclaim a little dignity. “Perhaps a change of venue?”
“Ah.” She takes a cursory glance around the copse and its variety of trees, shrubbery and wildflowers, nods sagely. “Maybe somewhere a little more…private?” she says, suggestive sensual, then adds with a quiet chuckle, “I was going to have to ask you to start over anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Did I…” He sniffles softly; she notes his momentary frown and accompanying flare of his nostrils, and the vexed waver in his expression as he rubs his nose again. “Did I not…” A sharp intake of breath, and she pauses, attention fixed – oh, again? – on what is plainly inevitable, no matter how much he may wish it otherwise. And this time he is clearly out of patience, rolling his eyes in exasperation and inhaling deeply moments before any remaining focus he has dissolves, and he comprehensively gives himself over, sneezing again, emphatic, unstoppable.
“Ah-HEHTSSHHUU! Fuck! *snf!*” Resentfulness now shines brightfurious in irritated, teary viridian as he meets her gaze from beneath strands of newly dishevelled midnight; by the look in his eye he’s one step from incinerating this entire damn woodland just to teach it a damn lesson, and she thinks that although he…probably won’t, that perhaps she should redirect his attention just in case. Besides, she muses, as his breath quavers and he sniffles again, it happens that she very much wants to…needs to get out of here too.
She loves watching him, but sometimes…ohgod, sometimes watching is simply not enough.
“Bless you, sweetheart,” she murmurs as she moves to him, internally burning, and wraps her arms around his waist. “Feel free to get us out of here whenever you like.” Standing on tiptoe, she now reaches up to weave one hand through his hair, pulling him nearer, silencing his apology with a finger to his lips, and soothes him with boudoir whisper, “Shh, it’s alright. Sometimes we’re all…just a bit at the mercy…” She kisses him hungrily, urgently, and abandons speech for heat-suffused Mindsend – :of forces beyond our control.:
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1-3: Turnabout Transfix (2/2)
The article in the paper under the list of missing persons had the wrong name before "Wright, age nine," and a lump formed in Miles's throat.
"That's not his name," he tried to say. It came out as a croak. "We told them his name was Phoenix. I know we did."
Ray, sitting beside him at the dining room table, looked disgusted but defeated. "They added it as a footnote," he pointed out. ""Responds to Phoenix"... Nick's not a dog."
Miles wanted to hunt down every copy of the paper and throw them all into the trash can. His best friend was missing, and people were calling him the wrong name because he wasn't there to stop them. It wasn't fair.
Miles looked to Ray as though he had an answer to right this horrible injustice. Ray looked as tired and frustrated as he felt, chewing on a thumbnail as he thought deeply.
"We can head down and talk to them," he offered, after a long pause.
That was what Father would have done. He would have marched right down to the office where they printed the paper and demanded a retraction. But nobody was going to take a freshman law student and his newly adopted nine year old seriously.
"It's worth a try," Miles responded, because a defense attorney should never give up hope.
⁂
Staying up late to scrutinize the series he already knew by heart for clues of some sort was a mistake, and Miles knew it. His eyes began to droop only partway through the season as Maya snored against his side, and he was vaguely aware he was becoming less and less alert every time he had to pull his head back up from his chest.
It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't be letting himself doze off in the presence of company.
His sleep was never restful. Every night, his subconscious was forcibly yanked back to the day everything changed.
Some nights, he found himself reliving what he was certain was a memory. The dialogue never changed, the action never shifted. A heated argument in the elevator, a foolish bid to stop it, a single gunshot, and that horrid, high-pitched wail of agony that he knew belonged to one of the people he'd lost that day.
Other times, he dreamed not of his father, but of Phoenix.
Those dreams changed, but they remained the same nonetheless. Whether running through the streets with Larry, or through the backyard of his home, or through the hallways of the courthouse, the same thing always happened - Phoenix disappeared. Maybe he ran too far ahead, or lagged too far behind, but Miles's friend was suddenly nowhere to be found, and he felt painfully, crushingly alone.
His subconscious had decided to grace him with the former that night, and when he woke up with "father" on his lips and sweat on his forehead, a rumpled-looking Maya was staring at him in undisguised concern.
"...are you o--"
Miles turned away from her and said nothing, effectively stopping the conversation before it began.
Maya was silent, and when Miles glanced back over, her gaze was fixed on the television, which was still playing through the old episodes of Steel Samurai. She lacked the enthusiasm they both shared for the show, however. She seemed deep in thought.
"...you don't wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.
He and Uncle Ray never talked after nightmares. One would get up to find the other in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea, and silently join them, knowing the other was thinking of the same thing but not having the courage to voice it aloud. Saying it gave it form, and Miles refused to shed any more tears over something he knew full well was his fault.
"No," Miles responded, sharp and blunt all at once.
"You wanna talk about something else, then?" Maya glanced sideways at him. "I used to talk with Sis after I had nightmares. It helped get my mind off things."
Miles hesitated. "Something else sounds nice," he said quietly.
"How about court today? Prosecutor von Karma was hopping mad, huh?" Maya let a grin stretch across her face as she leaned towards Miles. "She looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. Or maybe yours."
"That woman needs to see a therapist," he muttered.
"I think we all do, My."
"...you've got me there."
⁂
As the trial wore on throughout its second day, Sascha von Karma continued to act stranger and stranger. Before the judge could reprimand her for being far too harsh with the witness, Cody Hackins faltered and lost the confidence Miles had been working hard to build up about his witness account, a terrified look in his eyes. To his surprise, von Karma went ashen and actually stumbled back a little, like she hadn't meant to push a little boy nearly to tears.
Honestly, with her disposition, Miles wouldn't have thought she would care. But here she was, clutching her side, eyes blown wide with something like fear. Something in Miles's stomach turned over. Was he actually feeling sympathetic for this ferocious woman?
But it wasn't just him. Mia beside him (that had been a jolt to his nervous system -- he hadn't been able to see her clearly the last time Maya had summoned her) had her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at the prosecution. "I haven't seen her make a face like that since..."
Miles glanced at her. "Since... what?"
"...don't worry about it. Focus on the trial here and now, Miles." Mia gave him that mysterious smile that meant she was withholding important information from him. He knew it well. He huffed at her, and she huffed back.
Despite Mia's testimony, von Karma had that same look on her face as Vasquez took the stand the next day, wide eyes flicking between the witness and the defense bench. She was strangely silent, not offering a single protest as Miles proceeded with the cross-examination.
But he couldn't afford to wonder about it. Vasquez was clever and tight-lipped, and his attempts to wring her testimony dry and find something to pin her down were fruitless. She and the judge had both gotten irritated at this point, and when Miles hesitated, scrambling to find some point he hadn't pressed, the latter decided he'd had enough.
Miles cursed inwardly as the judge raised his gavel. Vasquez adjusted the pin of her shawl, self-assured in her victory. This was the end. He was prepared to accept defeat.
He couldn't have possibly prepared for what happened next, however.
"OBJECTION!"
Miles jerked his head up. Beside him, Maya gasped in surprise.
Across the room from him, left arm outstretched in a frantic point, was a frazzled, trembling Sascha von Karma.
She stared blankly at her own hand, as though it had moved of its own volition. Then she jumped - actually jumped - when the judge demanded to know the meaning for the interruption.
"Right! Uh. Um. The reason I objected," she babbled, "is because... uhh..."
It was the least composed Miles had ever seen her. He was bewildered. What did she think she was doing?
"...I don't have a reason," she admitted, shoulders slumping.
"Er..." The judge blinked owlishly at her. "Very well. Now--"
"OBJECTION!"
The poor judge looked as baffled as Miles felt. "Miss von Karma?"
"I... I request that the witness testify again!" she blurted out, digging her fingers into the desk. She looked disheveled, stray hairs having slipped out of her ponytail to poke out at a very odd angle. "I, um... I want to hear about... the, uh..."
Vasquez snarled with impatience. "Why are you badgering me? I'm your witness!"
"I'm inclined to agree!" the judge added. "I see little point in making Ms. Vasquez repeat herself..."
Miles looked at Maya. Maya looked at Miles. What?? Maya mouthed at him. Miles shrugged helplessly.
von Karma floundered. "Uh... yeah... great point... ummmmMMM! I want to-- I wish to hear about the body discovery! What happened after you found it?"
That hadn't occurred to Miles. But what could that possibly reveal? And why was von Karma risking sabotaging her own case by asking after it? She practically had the win in the bag, and after Miles had humiliated her so thoroughly after their last clash in court, she had no reason to let this continue.
What was going on?
⁂
The relief of a not guilty verdict and the butterflies of being in such close proximity to Mr. Powers yet again were a powerful combination that filled Miles's mind with fuzz and forced out any less important thoughts, like von Karma's odd behavior or Maya tugging on his coat.
"M-My! Hey! Miles! Kilometers! Little My!"
"H-Hrm?"
Maya pointed to somewhere behind him. "I, um... I think you're in trouble."
Miles turned, and flinched when he found himself nose to nose with a furious prosecutor.
"You," von Karma snarled, "should not be expecting a repeat performance of today! You're lucky I took pity on you! You got that?!"
Her voice raised to a yell as she spoke, and her burning eyes pinned Miles where he stood. He leaned away, but she just leaned forward.
"Don't you dare be expecting a shred of mercy from me from now on! You may be the son of that loathsome excuse of a defense attorney, and the favorite of that voluptuous wretch--"
Now, Miles was not going to sit there and take that. "You should never speak ill of the dead, Miss von Karma," he snapped, straightening his spine and making her flinch away. He met her glare with all the intensity he could muster...
...and then paused.
How curious.
"Wh... What? What is it?" von Karma's hastily plucked brows furrowed as an edge of nervousness worked its way into her voice, and Miles realized he'd spoken aloud.
"Your eyes," he continued hesitantly. They were heterochromatic - one brown, one blue. "They reminded me of someone. An old friend."
von Karma inexplicably blanched. She looked distant for a moment, and her left hand dug into her right side, just below her ribcage. "You... wh..."
Then she shook herself, and that boiling anger was back full force. "Why are you getting all nostalgic on me, you-- ugh! You listen closely, Ed... E-Edge..."
Again, she went pale, looking ill. Miles was starting to worry after her health at this point, despite the fact he was in the middle of being screamed at. "Er..."
"You... you listen closely, Worthless!" She thrusted a finger up towards him, nearly jamming it up his nose with how close she was. "These eyes... you'll see them and know nothing but despair once we meet again, you hear me?! I'm going to crush you, and I'm going to enjoy it!"
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stomped off, seething.
Maya coughed weakly. "Uh. Wow. What was that all about?"
Miles stared after Sascha von Karma, his gut clenching with inexplicable grief. "I have no earthly idea."
⁂
You failed again.
You can't even blame him this time.
This is all your fault.
Victory was within your grasp.
All that matters to a von Karma is perfection.
And yet you gave him an opening.
A von Karma should be swift and merciless.
You're weak. He's gotten into your head. You can't stop thinking about him.
Even his name makes you sick.
Miles Edgeworth...
...
...why does it feel like you're forgetting something?
#ace attorney#roleswap au#turnabout transition#long post#collab writes#collab draws#collab doodles#miles edgeworth#maya fey#mia fey#phoenix wright#dee vasquez#the judge#raymond shields#misgendering#misgendering tw
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Folktober 05 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels. In which Jude was never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk—mostly—until the night they tried to steal her twin sister away.
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The door is the first test. It is difficult not to stare at every new thing I see. There are lamps on either side of the polished wood doors, and at first I think they’re just regular lights, but of course nothing here is that simple; the light comes from two tiny glowing faeries, trapped behind glass. I am immediately filled with questions. Did they volunteer for the job? Is this a punishment for some unknown crime? Do they eat, and if so, who feeds them? Do they live forever, miserable in their prison, or do they eventually burn themselves out?
But I am meant to be glamoured and not ask questions, so I don’t, even though I want to pound my hands against the glass until they bleed and the tiny faeries are freed. I keep my eyes straight ahead and hardly even flinch when I notice the grotesque carving on the door. It looks horrible, a twisted and terrible face, the knocker piercing its nose.
Cardan acts as if this is all totally normal, because of course to him it is, because he lives here and none of this is new to him. Without any hesitation, he reaches for the door knocker. And as he does, the carving’s eyes spring open.
To keep from screaming, I bite my lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood. My entire body goes taut, a coiled spring waiting for release. I force myself to breathe in through my nose.
“My prince,” says the carving.
Cardan smiles at the door in a way I am not even sure he smiled at his friends. “My door.”
I am relieved when the next words from the door’s awful mouth are “Welcome home” and it swings open to admit us. Cardan stalks inside, and I follow.
There is a faerie servant waiting for us, wearing some kind of livery. “Prince Cardan,” they say, with a small bow. “Your brother would like to speak with you.”
“A pity for him,” Cardan replies, handing his cloak to another servant. No one offers to take the jacket I am wearing. “I would like that less.”
“I am afraid it was not a request,” the first servant says. “He wishes to speak with you and the mortal girl you have brought back with you.”
Cardan glances back at me, a frown turning down the corners of his full mouth. “Very well, although I cannot imagine why. Come, Jude.”
I bristle at the command, but I follow after him; it’s what the glamoured girl I’m supposed to be would do. I force a little smile on my lips and trot after him. “What’s going on?” I whisper through it.
“I know not.” The frown deepens. “And I like that even less. Stay close to me and face front, no matter what you see. And under no circumstances may you antagonize Balekin as you do me. Am I understood?”
I want to tell him that if he thinks my meager resistance so far has been antagonism, he doesn’t really know anything about hardship, but there’s an urgency to his voice, maybe something like nerves or fear, that makes me think he’s being serious.
“Totally,” I say, and then I fall back a little so that I trail him.
Soon I see why he warned me to stare straight ahead. As we walk through the hallway, I see another human for the first time, a young man dressed in the same palace livery. At first I want to call out to him, to scream, to tell him I’ve been taken and he has too and we should both run away from this place, but I notice the glazed look in his eyes, and, as we approach, his cracked fingers and chapped lips. He hums to himself as he polishes an old suit of armor on display, and doesn’t seem to notice as we pass.
I shudder. Cardan may have kidnapped me, true. He and his friends might have intended to do terrible things to my sister, and he may still intend to do terrible things to me. But at least I have been spared that fate, the loss of my all my faculties, of any control.
I’m not relieved for long, because Hollow Hall still has horrors in store for me. Soon we come to another set of gleaming doors, through which I can hear the sounds of chatter and the faint thrumming of music. The doors are thrown open for us by another pair of servants, and then we are in the middle of the great hall.
There is what is clearly a party happening. Well, I assume it’s a party, what parties are in fairyland. It looks like the kind of scene HBO would get in trouble for when casting a bunch of nude extras. I mean, by human standards, it would definitely be considered an orgy, but I am beginning to think that human and faerie standards are very different.
And that’s not to say all of the Folk are embracing. Some are eating golden fruit. Some are drinking wine and mead from great goblets, like the ones Cardan brought for his picnic jaunt into my world. Others seem to be falling asleep. Two might be strangling each other to the amusement of onlookers. There is a small band on the other side of the room that includes a green-skinned pixie playing a flute and a boy with goat legs playing an honest-to-god lute. And, yes, there are faeries in varying states of undress, on couches near the perimeter of the room or cushions on the floor, and some are definitely, um, occupied. They are clearly inhuman, but their bodies are human enough that I find myself blushing, out of embarrassment or mortification I don’t know.
But Cardan said I couldn’t stare, so I do my best not to. I face front and think about the places I would rather be. Which is pretty much anywhere. I imagine myself at the Starbucks downtown, sipping pumpkin spice lattes with Taryn, or bingeing She-Ra on Netflix with Vivi, like we had the last week of the summer. Then I think about how my parents will panic when they realize I’m not there in the morning—probably just a couple of hours from now—and I nearly feel sick to my stomach.
“Jude,” Cardan hisses through his teeth. “With me.”
I don’t nod. I just follow him as we chart a path through the revelers, managing to hold it together. A naked girl with daffodil-yellow skin and pink flowers for hair laughs and calls to him, trying to coax him into joining her circle, but he ignores her. I guess being a prince makes you popular.
Our destination is on the far side of the room, unfortunately, which means I have to do a lot more repression to make it there in one piece. For example, I can’t think about how a sharp-toothed faerie seems to be using a tiny bone to pick his teeth, or how another revel guest’s lips shine red like they’re wet with blood. At least I can easily pick out where we’re going and focus on that as I keep from tripping over any outstretched limbs.
Another faerie, one who looks much like Cardan with dark hair and high cheekbones, reclines in a wooden chair carved to look much like a throne, up on a dais. He is in conversation with a very lovely woman in a blue gown, but when she sees us approaching she kisses his ring and leaves. I almost want to tell her to come back, to not leave us with the host of this debauched fete. But there’s nothing to say. I’ll have no help here.
Cardan climbs the dais seps and stops before the chair, inclining his head with deference that seems a little mocking. Without being told, I know that this is Balekin, whom Cardan said was the eldest of the princes.
Brother,” Balekin says, and even I, an outsider, can sense the danger under the familial cheer. “How was your jaunt to the mortal world?”
“Tiresome,” Cardan says, stifling a yawn as he raises his head.
“I was told you brought a companion back with you.”
“Word travels fast.”
Balekin waits for him to say something else, and frowns when he doesn’t. I, meanwhile, am thinking of how I felt like we were being watched as we rode through the forest. Maybe we were. Or maybe the goblins who’d paddled the boat were spies. Nothing here was safe.
“Well, won’t you call her hence so I may examine her?” Balekin asks at last.
“Oh, indeed,” says Cardan, who clearly isn’t happy to have been called out for this. Still, he waves for me, and I take a step forward. “This mortal girl interfered with our fun. She was unhappy that Locke wanted to play with her twin sister.”
“Twins?” Balekin sounds intrigued. He sits forward. I’m learning that twins are probably rare among faeries if Taryn and I are so consistently interesting. “Why not keep them both?”
Cardan shrugs. “It was better sport to promise the freedom of one sister and then take the other. This one was so angry when she found her twin glamoured, and now she suffers that fate.”
I’m angry still, I want to shout. I’m angry now! I want to stomp my foot. I want to haul off and punch him. But I stay where I am, trying to keep the placid smile fixed on my face. I’d thought Cardan and his friends terrifying and wrong, but now that I am face-to-face with an adult faerie, I realize that Cardan can’t be much older than me—or whatever the faerie equivalent is. Maybe he’s ninety and just looks nineteen. But Balekin is clearly grown, less lanky than Cardan, more dangerous. He is looking at me in a way I don’t like.
“Come closer, child,” he says to me, and he almost sounds kind. I try not to hesitate as I approach his chair. When I am near enough, he reaches out and takes my face in his hand. There are thorns poking out of his skin, sharp enough to prick me. I stay very, very still and try to breathe normally.
“She’s not unpretty, is she?” he asks Cardan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan shift uneasily. “If mortals are your flavor.”
Balekin frowns, turning my face from one side to the other. “She has a familiar look. What is your name, girl?”
“Jude,” I say obediently.
“Your surname.”
“Smith,” I lie. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. Telling a faerie prince my actual full name seems like a really bad idea.
Balekin’s eyes narrow, but he releases me. My jaw tingles. He swirls the wine in his goblet the way sophisticated people do in movies, and then he leans back in his chair. “So, brother. Now you have a mortal girl. What will you do with her?”
“I have not yet decided,” Cardan replies, sounding thoughtful. “I would rather not put her to work in the kitchens or the hall. Mortals are so fragile, with such clumsy fingers. It amuses me to think of her carrying my schoolbooks, serving my wine, and sleeping at the foot of my bed like a faithful hound.”
“Trite amusements,” says Balekin, but I notice that he doesn’t seem displeased with his younger brother. “If you misplace this one it is of no consequence to me. Do as you will.”
Cardan inclines his head in a mock bow, then says again, “Come, Jude.”
Like the faithful hound, I follow at his heels. Unlike the faithful hound, I chafe doing so. But I can’t see another way out just now, so I will play this game until the end. Whatever that is.
---
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#jurdannet#jurdannetrevels#folktober 2020#jurdan#judecardan#jude x cardan#jude duarte#cardan greenbriar#the folk of the air#the cruel prince#the wicked king#the queen of nothing#mine: fic#fic: folktober#how long does october last? let's find out
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Hello ❤ hope you have a nice day 💖 can i request #14 from the dark prompts please?
Heya hun!!! Honestly, the day has been hot, but we push on. I hope your day has been good!! 💖 Hope you don't mind, but I went for a Fantasy AU for this one; I was super struggling with the prompt and the only thing I could think of was, "oooh, John as a mage..." so we kinda get that. The whole thing is more set up then anything else, but I didn't want to delete anything...
14. “You’re too sweet, darling. What type of monster would I be without you?”
- - -
There had been tales, whispers amongst the women and men of people going missing; of them being snatched off darkened paths and empty roads. Some reckoned it was a beast, spoke of a monster that was stealing people away to fuel their wicked appetite. Others thought it to be bandits, or other unscrupulous groups looking to profit off of the lives of inconspicuous civilians. But there were a handful, the few like yourself, that felt the shift in the air; that could feel the remnants of something foul and forbidden coiled around the scenes.
It had worried you greatly, the thought of such dark magic set loose in the town you had made a home of. Often you found yourself lost in your own mounting anxieties as the reports grew more and more frequent, and rumours gradianted into a much dreaded possibility. Even though you were no stranger to the darker arts, proficient as you are in the art of Summoning, you had never delved too far into its catalogue. In fact, Summoning was about all you ever touched and even then, amongst some other magically inclined individuals, it was considered somewhat of a lesser art; not as destructive and therefore not as notable as others.
However, just because you never strayed into more questionable arts doesn’t mean you know not of them. You’re aware that there are some dark arts that are a bit more accepted amongst the magically inclined than others, used for educational purposes and approved of as a means to protect oneself. Really dark arts are just offensive abilities, so no matter what there is always an element of wariness when it comes to the potential of such arts. As long as you utilise them in an acceptable manner there will be no questioning, no inquiries into your character.
For those not accepted though it is typically because they cross some form of moral or ethical line, taking an individual down a path that alters them irremediably. Stains the core of their aura with the makings of something dreadful, corrupts them until they lose all that makes them as they are.
Admittedly, if not studied correctly or the thirst for knowledge becomes too consuming, then any art can destroy a person; can set them down that very smart path. And sometimes a person can destroy the values of the art and stretch it into something it is not designed to be. There are many stories of Healers’ playing Maker, of a Conjurers’ calling going terribly wrong, of Astrologians’ going insane from their divinations. Once you were almost entranced by your own Summon; a rookie mistake, terribly embarrassing to recall.
Magic in general is a dangerous art and care will always need to be taken. But there are some arts where that danger is part of the art, and those are forbidden. They will always cross the line, and they will never fail to destroy a person; and that person will never fail to destroy others.
That’s what scared you so much about the recent happenings of the town. To think that such a person was lurching about the place, taking people off the street for who knows what nefarious reasons, terrified you. The idea that you could be next, that the stability of your own aura could be at risk because of this rogue caster sickened you. It tore you apart.
And John saw that.
It was a relatively small town, filled with all types of people coming in and out from across the region and the different towns within it. For a long time though the only people you knew that did magic was a spirited Pyromancer called Sharky and some eccentric Apothecary who lived on the outskirts called Larry (you were convinced the man tested his own potions on himself). The first you met when you had summoned a Kelpie to help you put out a fire he had accidentally caused a bit too close to your home, while the latter you had met by chance while looking for ingredients.
That had changed once the Seed brothers had moved in close to the town. They were surprisingly open about their magical inclinations and while the town wasn’t outrightly hostile they were openly suspicious of the three. You had even been a little suspicious of the three, not understanding their reasons for being so forward to a none magically inclined town; it could be dangerous to do so. Ultimately though they suffered little consequence of their reveal, other than strange looks and quiet gossip made of them. You had been envious of that freedom, to be forthright about what you were, but thought better of it. To reveal such a truth after so long would spell disaster for you.
Not even a full lunar cycle had passed before Joseph, the middle brother of the three, had made a point to come seek you out, introducing himself and his brothers to you. It had been a wholly uncomfortable encounter, especially the instance where he had suddenly questioned what arts you had studied. Desperately you had tried to deny it but thankfully the oldest brother, Jacob, had merely sighed and apologised on Joseph’s behalf. As an ex-Paladin turned Enchanter he had fully understood your need for secrecy and had been your saving grace during the whole thing. From then on the brothers become quick acquaintances to you, whether you wanted them to be or not.
Joseph was… okay. He made for interesting conversation no doubt and oftentimes his words gave you pause to think on things, but he could be a touch preachy at times, especially about his beliefs and divinations. Jacob on the other hand had become a confidante of sorts. You didn’t often talk, but when you did the conversation held well enough and his advice was always sound. He was also honest about his thoughts and opinions on a matter, and while you didn’t like being called out when you messed up you did respect his outlook. Your relationship with the youngest brother, John, however was a special one.
It had taken him a few days after the initial introduction to strike up a conversation with you, and for the most part he had purely asked you about yourself. But somewhere between admitting how long you’ve lived here and him nervously revealing himself to be a Conjurer, you had developed a fast trust of the man. It was unexplainable, completely foolish of you, but there was just something about him that you thought was pleasant; a believability to him. He was the first you deliberately told about your darker studies and thankfully, being of similar arts, he had taken it exceedingly well. You had even bonded over the differences and similarities between your chosen studies. He had become a dear friend, and only became dearer as the years went by.
So John noticing when your worries began to eat at you didn’t surprise you. He knew you extraordinarily well, sometimes it was even a little spooky how well he knew you, but it was also an odd comfort. He knew just what to say to put you at ease, to assure you that you would be safe and even going so far as promising that he himself would protect you from such a fate as those missing. You still had doubts, but his care was touching.
If only you had learned the truth sooner.
“My friend, please,” you cry, wrists shackled uncomfortably above you, the metal cutting into your skin, “I beg of thee, stop this! Such practises are a blight to the soul, you will doom yourself if you continue. I know not what it is you wish to accomplish, but please spare them this torture! Spare yourself! Surely there has to be another way, John; surely!”
John merely chuckles quietly, slowly shaking his head as he does so. “Oh, you’re too sweet, darling. Even now, as you are, you still think of me and my well being before yourself. Not to imply you have anything to fear, of course; you know I would never hurt you. I merely mean it as an observation. It is a charming trait, that sweetness of yours. It’s part of why I fell for you so.” He turns to you then, up to his elbows covered in blood. The person before him is still alive, but barely, their breaths shallow and their skin a deathly pallor. To think he was a Hemomancer this whole time…
“But why waste words on their behalf when they would never deign to do the same for you? You had to hide yourself, deny what you truly are just to be accepted by these lowly worms for years. Tell me, where is the fairness in that? In what world should we sequest ourselves away from those weaker than us, those deemed less worthy by the Maker themselves?”
Crossing the space in a few long strides he stops before you, bloody hands cupping your cheeks gently even as you try to turn away from him, bringing you back to stare helplessly into his sparkling eyes, “Don’t you see, sweet one? You are beautiful, in every part, as you are. We were blessed by the Maker, but they will never see that, blinded as they are. They will never appreciate our arts, our gifts, or even us as people, no matter what we may do or sacrifice for them. If I need to subject myself to risk to show them their place, to create a world that you need not hide in any longer, then I’ll do so gladly and without hesitation.”
Shaking your head softly, face still captured within his hands, a tear slips unbidden down your cheek. “But it will consume you. You’ll become a monster.”
“Maybe,” he admits, tone oddly calm as he carefully brushes beneath your eye with his thumb, smearing blood through the track of your tear, “but I wonder, what type of monster would I be without you, do you think?”
Perhaps it is vain of you, but something tells you that he would be another beast entirely without you chained to him as you now are…
#hrnggg#it's so long#and the ending feels weird but i didn't want to keep going#i like keeping my prompts to shorter pieces#yes i know they're not that short but their short for me#i just really wanted to write something in a fantasy setting and got carried away#my bad...#john seed#my gorgeous murder husband#john seed x reader#my writing#my writing prompts#my prompts#soft dark#soft dark writing prompts#soft dark prompts#soft dark fic#fanfiction#fanfic#fc5 fanfic#fc5#far cry 5#request#fadedjacket#thank you for sending this in hun! <3#i know it's a bit different to usual but hopefully it's okay#fantasy au#john's probably a touch ooc in this#but a change in vocab does that to you i guess
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the edge of hope (6/9)
summary: canon divergent au; when Din left Sorgan to protect the Child, he left the woman he’d fallen in love with, not knowing he’d also left behind something else. Or, Omera and Winta join Mando and Grogu on their season 2 adventures. Mandomera!
Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Sixth chapter below the cut or on AO3!
The Jedi
The journey to Corvus took a while, which meant there was enough time for the crew aboard the Razor Crest to spend time together in the hold of the ship.
While Winta and the Child played together on the floor, giggling loud enough that it could be heard from the cockpit, Omera spent her time working on a sewing project for the baby. It would be a pair of socks, eventually, mended together with fabric she’d brought along from the village.
Din had decided to stay up above by himself. She had to wonder if it was because he was upset about having to say goodbye to his boy once they found a Jedi. Hopefully, they wouldn’t find themselves following yet another clue to find the Jedi that Bo-Katan had vouched for.
As Omera sewed together the small sock for her unborn child, she couldn’t ignore the guilt that sat within her. She should’ve told Din when she had the opportunity. She should’ve found the words, as hard as they would’ve come. But instead, she’d allowed herself to get caught up in it all over again.
There was no such thing as perfect timing. She knew that now. The children would always be a priority in their travels, and so would the mission at hand.
As if he knew she was thinking of him, the Mandalorian dropped down from the upper level, landing with a thud that startled the children. They each turned to look at him for a moment, and when he had nothing to say, they returned to what they were doing.
He came to stand near Omera, though he didn’t come as close as he usually did. She sat within the opened sleeping nook, on the edge so that she could watch the children play.
“Are we getting close?”
Din turned his attention onto her, looking away from the kids. “Still a while to go.”
Omera nodded in understanding.
She watched Winta roll a ball across the floor, gesturing for the Child to go grab it for himself. He seemed less interested in play time, instead flopping down to sit. Winta did the same.
“When we were on Nevarro…” Din spoke carefully, just low enough that it was only for her to hear. Omera looked up at him patiently. “Cara and Greef said some things…”
She couldn’t help but smile. “They implied some things…”
He nodded. “I… just want you to know that I would’ve gone back to Sorgan. Even if you hadn’t come with us. You’re… important. To me.”
Her heart fluttered. She knew he wanted them to be together, that he may have even had feelings for her that were strong, but to hear him say so aloud felt like a gift.
“I would’ve been there waiting.”
The Mandalorian was quiet while his focus changed, shifting instead to his toddling boy with a happy grin on his face. At his side, Winta had discovered the Mandalorian armor that Cobb Vanth had worn on Tatooine. She slid the helmet over her head and giggled. Then, she pulled it off and showed it to the Child.
It surprised her a little that Din didn’t chastise the children for playing with it. He’d felt so strongly about protecting the armor and bringing it back to his people.
“Before him, I provided for my people on Nevarro. The covert is gone now. Scattered. After we find his kind, I won’t have a path I’m sworn to.”
Din folded his arms against his chest and turned his attention onto her again.
“I thought… maybe my next path would reveal itself to me on this journey. Maybe I’d find the members of my covert who scattered. But instead, we’ve just run around in circles, and Gideon’s back.”
She’d felt so excited at the idea of being together when this mission was over that she hadn’t considered what Din wanted to do next. Her only concern had been the relief of knowing he wanted to be together.
Would he still want that when he learned of their child? And what about his future? Was it fair to him to stay together somewhere, raising a family, when he could help so many with his skills and talents?
Her stomach flipped and she averted her gaze, looking at the baby sock in her hand.
“Well, maybe your next steps will be revealed to you soon,” Omera told the Mandalorian. She refused to look at him, feeling too ashamed of herself.
Din was silent for a few seconds. “Maybe.”
Before Omera had the chance to say anything, to offer him hope, he walked away, retreating back toward the cockpit again. She shut her eyes, sighing softly through her nose.
How could they ever be together? It felt like a dream that would never be realized, so distant that it felt foolish to continue running after it.
At her feet, she felt the sudden warm embrace of small hands around her calf. Looking down, she saw the Child, whose smile was gentle and innocent.
“Hi, little one.”
Omera leaned down to pull him up into her lap. With her arm around his belly, he wrapped his fingers around hers.
“What do you think?” She held up the sock. “It’s not finished yet… but I think it will work.”
The Child tilted his head and cooed. He reached out with one hand to take it and she laughed.
“It isn’t for you.” Omera kissed the top of his head before whispering, “It’s for your little brother or sister.”
The Child’s smile spread happily. Her heart felt warm. She could only imagine what it would feel like to finally tell Din.
-
“Din.” Winta sighed his name heavily from her seat behind him. “I miss home.”
They had been on their way to Corvus for a considerable length of time, so Winta’s complaint wasn’t without its reason, but it still hurt to hear. They were a traveling crew, one he was quite fond of. Winta in particular was just one way this journey had become so much brighter, in more ways than one.
Omera had excused herself to use the privy a few minutes ago and still hadn’t returned, so Din knew he had no choice but to turn and answer the angst-ridden child.
“I know you’re uncomfortable. I think we’re all getting a little cabin fever.”
Winta threw her head back and huffed a dramatic sigh. “I wish we could just be there already.”
Din sighed. He took a peek out the window of the cockpit and pointed to the nearby planet.
“Look. That’s Corvus. If you can just sit tight for a few more minutes, we’ll start the landing cycle, and we’ll be back on solid ground soon enough.”
The door to the cockpit opened and Omera entered. She sat without saying anything, but he still glanced back at her anyway.
The journey had been unintentionally tense between them for no other reason than his knowing that she had something to tell him, and her insistence that she wait until they finally found the Jedi.
If she wanted to tell him her feelings, he had an inclination that he knew what they were already. At least, he hoped he knew. After everything that they’d shared, everything spoken and unspoken, the direction she seemed to lean was in the very same direction he did.
It was hard to admit it to himself, after a lifetime of perfecting a tough outer shell. The feeling had only intensified with her closeness to him these past few weeks.
Din was in love, and it wasn’t just with Omera. He’d fallen for Winta too, the adorable girl with dimples and a penchant for making up songs.
They would be together, once this journey was finished, and it made his chest tight with longing each time the thought came to his mind, even if it terrified him. He didn’t know what it would look like, or how they would make it work. They’d figure it out. They’d have to.
“We’re almost there,” Din told Omera. He looked at the Child, seated on the console to his right. “You better get back in your seat, kid.”
The Child cooed, but didn’t move. For a second, he looked at the ball tightened on the lever - his favorite toy to hold.
“Hey,” Din said, trying to force his attention back on him. “What did I tell you? Back in your seat.”
After one more coo, the Child finally used his feet to move, climbing up onto Omera’s lap with a little contented sigh from the boy.
With the Empire likely on their tail and the Jedi not too far ahead, Din had to wonder what would come next. Would Moff Gideon lay off if the Child was returned to his kind? Would the Jedi even want to take him?
It was enough to keep Din’s mind busy considering every possible outcome of this stop on Corvus- a place, they soon discovered, that had been devastated by something, or someone. Trees sat dying on the barren forest floors, and a sleepy town sat behind tall brick walls.
It seemed desolate and empty. Why would a Jedi come here?
After settling the Razor Crest onto the ground near the town with tall brick walls, Din turned to his crew in the cockpit.
“Well, Corvus awaits.”
Winta slouched off of her chair, the earlier angst having melted into some sort of fresh tiredness mixed with it. Omera shook her head at the girl.
“You’ll feel better once we get outside,” Omera said as she ushered her child up out of her chair. “Let’s go.”
As they stepped off of the Crest, Din focused on the world around them. It was quiet. A few creatures moaned in the distance, but the land seemed peaceful. Although, the dead trees standing all around the ship seemed to be a bad omen for things to come.
Behind him, the Child sat down on the ramp. Din turned, frowning when he saw that he’d pulled the ball off of the lever.
“What did I say about that?” He leaned down, scooping the Child into his arms. He pulled the ball away from him. “This needs to stay in the ship.”
“Mama, what happened to this land? It’s so… sad.”
Omera shook her head. “I don’t know. It certainly hasn't been cared for, has it?”
“No.”
Din approached the pair who stood just ahead of him.
“Let’s head into town. See if we can pick up a lead. I’ve never had dealings with a Jedi before, so… not sure where to start.”
“That seems as good a place as any to try,” Omera agreed.
The walls of the town were higher than they’d seemed before, towering high above them as they approached the main gate. A handful of officers stood watch above them. Thoughtfully, he hid the Child within the fabric sling at his side in an attempt at keeping his identity secure.
After a short inquiry by the gate officers, they were permitted to enter through the gates, and once they stepped inside, Din knew right away that this mission was about to be difficult. Very few of the people within the gates seemed eager to linger, much less look in their direction.
“Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…”
The vendor turned away from him, heading away from her goods and inside the building just behind her. Frowning, Din sighed. He looked at Omera, who lingered behind him. She stared into an alleyway, at an older man who tended to two children.
“Excuse me,” Omera kept her voice low and kind. “Can you help us?”
The older man shooed the children away and then approached them. “Please, do not speak to them, or to any of us.”
Frowning, Omera shook her head. “We just need help finding someone. Please-”
Before she could make any headway with the villager, a pair of fully armed and threatening guards approached them and addressed him directly.
“The Magistrate wants to see you.”
He met Omera’s gaze. She instantly held Winta closer. With a nod toward the guards, he allowed them to guide them toward their Magistrate.
“Stay close.”
Omera nodded silently.
They were led toward another large gate within the town: a strange centerpiece to an already strange place.
Worried, he kept Omera and Winta in his sights at his side. He was always committed to protecting them, but with the hope of staying together once this journey was finished, he felt extra protective.
As they approached the second gate, Omera protected her daughter from the sight of three prisoners being tortured for all to see. He tried to shield Winta from it as well and stepped in front of her strategically.
“Help us.” He was electrocuted for his words and released a scream so bloodcurdling that Din couldn’t help but feel contempt for the one who was doing this to them.
Beyond the gates, there was a calm and peaceful garden. A bridge covered a pond full of fish, and that’s where the Magistrate stood, feeding her pets while three lives were tortured to the brink of death just feet away.
He led his crew just beyond the gates and stopped.
“Come forward.” It was clear to him that this woman was the cause of the troubles of this town. While she lived in comfort, her people were tightly controlled and fearful for their lives. Even still, he stepped toward her with Omera and Winta just behind him. “You are a Mandalorian?”
“Yes.”
“I have a proposition that may interest you.”
Din held his head high, glancing out of the corner of his vision at Omera. She held Winta close, protecting her even though they’d already seen the worst that this town had to offer.
“My price is high.”
The Magistrate took a few steps toward him. “A Jedi plagues me. I want you to kill her.”
He felt the Child stir a little at his side and was reminded of his true purpose for being on this planet. He needed to find the Jedi, not kill her.
“That’s a difficult task.”
The Magistrate offered a small smile. “One that you are well-suited for. The Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore.”
“As I said, my price is high.”
He was unwilling to pledge that he’d kill one of the Child’s kind. It was wrong to even consider such a thing, but he didn’t want to put their lives in danger by denying the Magistrate’s offer. It seemed to him that she might know where the Jedi was, and that was all he needed.
The Magistrate quietly summoned a guard droid forward, one holding a spear in hand.
“What do you make of this?”
The Magistrate spun the dull end of the spear toward him and then held it outward in both hands as an offering. Carefully, he stepped toward her to take it. When he took it into his hands, he studied it carefully. It seemed like beskar in feel, and when he tested it against his arm gauntlet, he was proven right. Rang out clean.
“Beskar.”
“Pure beskar… like your armor. Kill the Jedi and it’s yours.”
“Where do I find this Jedi?”
-
Walking around on a dying, unfamiliar planet with two children was not his brightest idea, especially considering the risks surrounding them, but they really had no choice. If they wanted to find the Jedi, they needed to keep moving.
Omera walked at his side while Winta ran ahead. She used the angst she’d built up on the ship in the quickness of her strides. It was only the smallest step above the complaining she’d done when they began the walk in terms of anxiety-inducing behaviors.
“Winta!” Omera called after her. “Winta, you can’t keep running ahead.”
Winta stopped, throwing her head back to groan. “Mama…”
“This is a planet none of us know,” Omera scolded. “We don’t know what’s out there. We can’t protect you if you get too far ahead.”
An idea came to him when he heard the Child make a noise. He gestured for Winta. “Come here. You can hold the Child.”
Winta came back toward them and waited patiently for him to grab the boy from the sling at his side. When he settled him into Winta’s arms, the Child cooed happily.
“There,” Din said, nodding toward them. “We’re getting close to the coordinates. We stay together. Understood?”
Winta nodded. “Yes, Din.”
He looked at Omera, whose usual brightness seemed to have dampened. “Okay?”
She took a breath of the thick Corvus air and smiled slightly. “I think all of the adventure is finally catching up with me. Traveling with two young ones isn’t easy, is it?”
Din shook his head. “No, but at least we’re together.”
Her expression softened a little and she nodded her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed thinking about what will happen when we find the Jedi. Will he go with them? Will he be okay with the Empire after him? Will we?”
They were all questions that had been plaguing him since learning of Gideon’s survival on Nevarro. It was comforting to know he had Omera to lean on as she worried about the same uncertainties.
Sighing, Din stared at the Child in Winta’s arms. “I don’t know.”
A twig snapped behind them and Din turned quickly, pulling his blaster from his side as he moved. Ahead of him, an unfamiliar figure stood with a pair of light sticks in her hands. She wore a soft smile on her lips and a quirk in her brow.
“Aren’t bounty hunters supposed to travel lightly?”
Din narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you Ahsoka Tano?” The woman said nothing indicating if she was or not, so he held hope that she was. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”
Pleasantly, she stepped closer to them. For a moment, he thought about how he’d attack should she decide to try something, but she saw past him and Omera, her gaze settling on the Child in Winta’s arms instead.
“I hope it’s about him.”
-
The Jedi sat opposite the Child, both planted firmly on fallen trees, for hours. The light of the day gave easily to night, and Din was unable to stay in one place for longer than a second.
He paced around in wandering circles, waiting helplessly as Ahsoka seemed to commune with the Child in silence.
He knew nothing of how the Jedi worked, or if talking silently was how the Child was meant to communicate, but he found some comfort in the way Ahsoka Tano carried herself. She would have answers for him.
Leaning against a nearby tree, Omera held a snoozing Winta in her arms. Her nervous gaze was set only on him every time he even cast a glance in her direction. His stomach flipped at the contact and his heart clenched warmly within his chest.
He found comfort in the fact that he wasn’t in this alone. They’d found the Jedi together.
From their perch just ahead of him, Ahsoka nodded at the Child, whose arms were held out as if he wished to be carried. She scooped him into her arms and grabbed her lantern, then slowly made her way towards him.
Feeling nothing short of anxious, Din met her halfway. The Jedi settled the Child upon a rock and sat next to him. The kid babbled at her and she smiled fondly.
“Is he speaking?” Din asked. “Do you understand him?”
“In a way,” Ahsoka replied, meeting his gaze. “Grogu and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”
“Grogu?” Din asked. It earned him an excited chirp from the Child as he craned his head to the side to look up at him.
“Yes.” Din stared at the Child. The Child stared back. Something had changed in the kid. Maybe it was because he was understood by someone. “That’s his name.”
“Grogu.”
This time, the Child’s eyes were wider and his ears perked up. There was a happy look on his face accompanying the noise he made. It must’ve been true: his name was Grogu.
“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden.” As Ahsoka spoke, Din sat on a fallen tree stump opposite the Jedi to listen to her story. “Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes… dark. He seemed lost. Alone.”
She paused and looked thoughtfully at the kid- Grogu. He seemed tired. His eyes squinted and his head fell. His ears flopped around as he tried to keep awake. “I’ve only known one other being like this. A wise Jedi Master named Yoda.”
As if affirming her words, Grogu made a noise. Din wasn’t sure what to think, but he appreciated learning about his history. As tragic as it sounded, he could relate to it. They were both foundlings. They had both been lost.
“Can he still wield the Force?” she asked.
Din shook his head. The word meant absolutely nothing to him. “You mean his powers?”
“The Force is what gives him his powers. It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”
He thought back over every extraordinary thing, big and small, that he’d seen the kid do. There was so much power inside of him that Din could never explain or make peace with. The Mudhorn. Healing Karga. What he did on Nevarro with the fire. Moving things… choking people.
“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain.” On the rock to his left, Grogu had closed his eyes, tired, and sighed as sleep overwhelmed him. “My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”
Sorrowfully, Ahsoka’s gaze fell dark. She frowned. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”
It seemed like she didn’t want to help him. She had to know the dangers that the kid faced. He was special and wanted because of it.
“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”
The Jedi contemplated this. He could tell that it wasn't something she took lightly. On either side of Grogu's path, there was the threat of the Empire.
“Let him sleep,” the Jedi said. “I’ll test him in the morning.”
Gently, she stood up, but she didn't walk away. Din followed her action and lifted the Child into his arms, cradling him as he typically did. Glancing past him, Ahsoka stared at Omera and Winta, not for the first time since their meeting. She looked back again.
“Grogu is attached to all of you,” she shared. She kept her voice low on behalf of the kid. “He told me she was special to you, too.”
Din smiled to himself, unable to help it. “Her name is Omera. She is… very special to me, yes.”
Ahsoka smiled amiably at his words. “It worries me- how attached Grogu is. It will make it difficult to train him.” Pausing, she took a half step backward. “But we’ll see how he is in the morning.”
“Right.”
He looked down at the boy sleeping in his arms for only a moment, but when he looked back up again, the Jedi had disappeared.
On a sigh, he made his way over to Omera. She was still awake where she rested, waiting for him to share what he’d learned from the Jedi. He sat down with his back pressed to the same tree. Their shoulders pressed together, but he couldn’t see her.
“What did she say?” Omera asked quietly.
Din’s chest ached as he lowered his hand to the Child’s belly.
Finally, he knew who this special child was, and it would only be a matter of time before they were no longer together. Ahsoka would undoubtedly see potential in Grogu and want to train him. It was something he hadn’t thought about, not wanting to deal with the realization that he had grown so attached to the kid.
Now that the time had finally come, the reality weighed heavy in his heart.
“She said his name is Grogu. She’s going to test his abilities in the morning.”
“Grogu,” Omera repeated. She laughed under her breath. “It’s nice to hear that he has a name.”
Din nodded in agreement. “It is.”
Silence between them grew like a vine on a wall for a long time, until Omera shifted and put her hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry we’ve made this part of the journey so difficult. Winta wants to go home… I’ve been distant...”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do. I want you to know that I’m here to support you. And Grogu. I want to be here with you both.”
Hearing Omera say that she wanted to be with him wasn’t a surprise. They’d made an agreement that they would find a path forward together once Grogu was with the Jedi. Even still, he felt his heart rate double at her words.
Omera wanted him in a way no other had before. She wanted a life with him, and he wanted it in kind. It surprised him how much he did.
Din shut his eyes. He pressed his head against the tree.
“When this is over…” he paused thoughtfully. “Maybe we could go to Nevarro. Winta can go to school. I can get work with Cara or Greef. We can have a home there.”
For a few seconds, she was quiet. He began to doubt that she felt comfortable with the idea of a life like that with him. Maybe she wanted something different. Maybe she wanted a life on Sorgan. But could he settle down there?
“That sounds nice,” Omera finally replied. Her voice was warm and gentle. “Maybe I would become a Mandalorian, too.”
The thought of Omera becoming Mandalorian was enough for him to forget to breathe.
“You would do that?”
“Yes.” Omera’s responding whisper brought an unbreakable smile to his face. “I’m kind of jealous of your armor, if I’m honest.”
He laughed, a noise that came from his belly, and Omera joined him. Her fingers found his on the forest floor, gentle when they slid against his gloved hand.
How had he found her? How had he been so lucky?
“What about Sorgan?” Din asked. “Your people would miss you. Winta would miss it too.”
She sighed. “I know. I think we would make it work. She could find new friends. And we would be together. I don’t want you to have to settle for something like a life on Sorgan if it isn’t what you want.”
“You shouldn’t have to settle, either.”
She was quiet while she thought about it. “We could visit the village. It’s a compromise I’m willing to make for our future together.”
With his eyes closed, he could see it: a home in Nevarro. Winta’s giggles echoing off the walls. A bed he and Omera could share alone. Doing odd jobs for Greef and Cara. Bringing Winta home a gift from wherever he found himself in his travels.
If he extended his reach enough, he could just feel it in the palm of his hand.
-
In the morning, once Grogu finally awoke, Ahsoka Tano began testing his abilities.
She started with a rock in her hand, one she pushed toward him as a demonstration of what she wanted him to do. Once he held the rock in his hand, she asked him to push it back by using the Force.
Din watched from the side, sensing that Grogu’s stubborn streak didn’t only include not listening to him. Apparently, he struggled to listen to everyone. When Grogu failed to send the rock back to Ahsoka, the Jedi sighed.
Thoughtful, she took a step to the side. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”
Din looked to the Child and tilted his head toward Ahsoka to try and get him to move. He didn’t.
“He’s stubborn.”
“Not him. You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”
He glanced over at Omera, who sat nearby with Winta, brushing back her daughter’s hair as they watched Grogu’s test in silence. They didn’t want to cause distraction for the kid.
“That would be a first,” Din remarked, lifting his brow in exasperation.
“I like firsts,” Ahsoka said with a wry smile. “Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” She handed him a fresh stone, wanting to start over. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.”
He did as he was told, the rock placed delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “All right, kid. Lift the stone.”
The Child stared back at him, blinking. Apparently, he didn’t want to listen to him either.
“Grogu,” Ahsoka reminded him.
“Grogu…” Din repeated.
This time, Grogu’s ears perked up. It was clear he enjoyed hearing Din say his name. Might have to keep that in mind for later.
“Come on, take the stone.”
Din could tell that Grogu gave it an effort, but it was nothing compared to what he’d seen him do before.
“You see?” He turned to face the Jedi and chucked the rock backward onto the ground again. It was useless. The kid didn't want to do it. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”
“Try to connect with him.”
Connect with him… how? A thought occurred to him, one that made him smile slightly. The ball from the lever on the Crest seemed to get him to do what he wanted. Just like Omera had suggested: award him with something he wanted to earn his responsiveness.
Din reached into his belt to find the ball. He lifted it into his palm and then slid it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Grogu.” He waited to get the kid’s attention locked on him. He gestured to the ball with a nod. “Do you want this?” His ears perked. “Well, go ahead.”
The Child concentrated on pulling the ball from him. He could feel it. Something was happening. He was about to do this, wasn’t he? He could prove to them all that he could use the Force.
“That’s right, take it. Come on.” Din couldn’t help from smiling from beneath his helmet. He had faith in the kid. He’d seen him do so much… if Ahsoka only knew. “You can have it. Come on.”
In an instant, the ball soared through the air between them, landing directly in Grogu’s waiting palm. He couldn’t help the swell of pride within him. He nodded, moving toward the Child.
“Good job!” He felt the grin on his face spread. “Good job, kid. You see that? That’s right.”
Din caught Omera staring at him. She smiled in kind, just as proud of Grogu as he was.
The Child cooed, looking at him as if he was more excited about the affirmation than he was about having his ball in his hands again. When he approached Grogu on his perch, he knelt down. He offered Din the ball and he took it, unable to look away from him. He was always amazed when he saw the kid do his thing. There was no doubt that he had gifts.
“I knew you could do it. Very good.”
From behind them, the Jedi spoke, “It’s like I thought. He’s formed a strong attachment to you. I cannot train him.”
He knitted his brow, instantly upset, and whirled around. “What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”
Ahsoka stared at the Child for a moment and then turned her attention up to him. “His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.”
“All the more reason to train him.”
The Jedi took a step towards him. “No. I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.” Ahsoka glanced toward Omera and Winta briefly. Then, she took a step backward as if she were prepared to leave. “I’ve delayed too long. I must get back to the village.”
The Jedi began on her path away from them, but Din knew he couldn’t let her go.
“The Magistrate sent me to kill you.” The Jedi pivoted on her heel to face him once more. “I didn’t agree to anything. And I’ll help you with your problem, if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”
Ahsoka took a deep breath as she considered the agreement. Together, they would make quite the team- one their enemies would never see coming.
Having made up her mind, she nodded. “Then we should get moving.”
-
After an afternoon spent trudging through the dying forests of Corvus, Omera felt as if every ounce of energy she had was absolutely depleted. As they approached the Razor Crest, all at once, all she wanted was to curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep.
Din and Ahsoka had come up with a plan to solve the Jedi’s problem, but they would wait for morning before they would begin their siege. Until then, their group returned to the Crest in silence, listening to the sounds of their feet against the forest floor and a couple of creatures moaning in the distance.
“He’s worn out,” Din murmured as he adjusted his son in his arm.
Omera hummed. “Using the Force must tire him.”
The Mandalorian nodded in agreement. He was the first up the Razor Crest’s extended ramp. As he walked, he soothed Grogu with his palm over his belly. Omera couldn’t help but see the action as a vision from the future, where he carried their newborn in the very same way. The thought made her heart ache with longing.
Winta followed after the Mandalorian, but Omera lingered at the base of the ramp. She turned when she felt a set of eyes on her. Ahsoka studied her from nearby with a soft, unassuming smile on her face.
She hadn’t realized that Ahsoka had followed them, but wasn’t surprised to see her. They’d spent the better part of the day together.
The Jedi approached, only slowing to a stop when they were close enough that their conversation would be kept private.
“I can feel your child,” Ahsoka said. She looked downward, a silent gesture to her middle. “It’s a boy. He’s strong. Healthy. Congratulations.”
Her heart raced wildly. How could she know? Was it the same way that Grogu knew?
“Thank you. But how do you…?”
Briefly, Ahsoka glanced up the ramp toward the inside of the Razor Crest. The Jedi was calm. Patient.
“The Force is in all things.” With a small smile, she added, “Grogu sensed him too.”
Omera thought back to the experiences she’d shared with the boy, where he’d seemingly been able to sense the unborn without needing any prompting at all.
“I had a feeling.”
The Jedi took half a step backwards. “I’ll be back for the Mandalorian before dawn like we agreed. You should rest.”
Before she could respond, Ahsoka turned away. Omera shifted her focus upward to seek out her family within the Razor Crest.
If what Ahsoka said was to be believed, she carried within her a boy. It was good to know that he was strong and healthy. Any worries she’d had about that could be put away.
Absentmindedly, her palm fell over her middle and she gave the small bump a gentle caress. Joy filled her as she considered her unborn child. What would he look like? In what ways would he be like Din? The thoughts gave her heart a lot to ponder.
Inside the ship, she saw Din with Grogu at the sleeping nook while Winta watched on from a slight distance.
The Mandalorian lingered, hovering with his son as if he could make time freeze, and Omera looked to Winta again, whose sorrowful focus sat on Din.
Winta knew they would have to say goodbye to the young Jedi soon. It wouldn’t be easy for any of them to let go of Grogu and see him step into his future, but there was hope in it. Grogu would one day be able to master his skills and return to them stronger than before. It wouldn’t last forever.
“Why don’t you set up our bed out here tonight, my love?” Omera asked her daughter with a gentle hand pressed to her arm.
Winta rubbed her eyes tiredly and nodded. “Okay.”
Their bed wasn’t much: a series of blankets and a single pillow they shared, but it was enough to make do. It was at least better than sleeping sitting up in the cockpit, even if the ground made her muscles ache just the same.
Omera went to Din and put her hand over his forearm, drawing his attention to her. “He isn’t going anywhere. Let him rest.”
“I never gave any thought to him leaving,” Din admitted in a quiet voice. “I always thought there would be more time.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Din sighed heavily. He finally pulled away from the hole in the wall. Their fingers tangled between them and she knew then that he was more vulnerable than he’d ever been with her.
This was difficult for him. She’d never seen him so conflicted about doing what was right before.
“Let’s try to get a few hours of sleep.”
Once the makeshift bed on the floor of the Razor Crest was completed, they pulled the ramp back up for protection from the creatures of the forest planet, and Omera settled in beside her daughter beneath a single blanket.
The Mandalorian lay out on his back beside them. The position made Omera feel tired in the most bone-aching way, but she turned to him anyway, and saw that he stared back at her.
He pulled his glove from his hand and she smiled when he sought out hers. This time, he traced lines into it, drawing over the creases and grooves of her palm like he could memorize her.
Desperation filled her. She wished that they were alone so that she could tell him how she felt about him. That she loved him. That she was carrying his child- a boy. That the future they’d discussed just a night ago was more possible than they could even dream.
“Are you okay?” Omera asked in a whisper.
Din stopped his movements on her hand briefly at the question she posed and then continued, whispering in response, “I can’t teach him what he needs to know. This is the best path for him.”
His selflessness was one of the strongest parts of him, but she knew it didn’t sit as easily as he made it sound. This was hard. He and Grogu were a clan of two. They’d formed an unbreakable bond.
“But are you okay?” Omera asked again.
The Mandalorian hesitated.
“I’ve grown to care for him as my own.” Din’s voice was quieter than before; timid. “He’s… my son.”
His words brought tears to her eyes. She forced him to stop tracing lines into her skin and reached up to take his hand in hers instead.
“One day, you will look back on this moment and remember the hurt, but then see the good that came from it and realize that it was well worth it all.” She smiled a little. “My mother told me that years and years ago.”
Din’s fingers tightened around hers, but he said nothing.
“She was so… wonderful. She would’ve loved you.” Omera smiled at the thought of her mother meeting the Mandalorian. She’d probably laugh that bright laugh of hers and challenge every word that he spoke. “She always told me I would find a man one day with stars in his eyes to match all of my ambitions.”
“Did you?”
She stared at Din for a moment. Her heart skipped a beat, frantic even though she knew the answer without needing even a second to think. Although she had never seen his face, she knew that she had indeed found a man with stars in his eyes.
“Yes. I found you.”
He released a soft breath- almost a gasp of surprise, like he couldn’t believe she felt this way for him.
“Every hardship that’s happened in my life led me straight to you,” Omera continued. “And I don’t regret any of it because meeting you… being with you…” She smiled more, admiring the Mandalorian in the darkness. “It’s made me so much stronger. I’m sure Grogu feels the same.”
When he spoke, his voice sounded fragile, “You’ve made me stronger, too.”
-
His mission with Ahsoka was a rousing success.
The townspeople were freed of their oppressive government, Ahsoka was free to do as she pleased, and to top it all off, he now had a spear of full beskar to add to his assortment of weapons on board the Crest.
But, it was the end. The Jedi wanted to see the Child, and she would take him to train him in the ways of their kind.
Slowly, Din climbed the ramp up to check on the sleeping boy. Once he stood in the cargo hold, he discovered that Omera and Winta sat out waiting for his return.
Omera had a sorrowful look in her eyes that Winta mirrored.
“Is it done?” Omera asked.
He nodded his head once. “I need to bring him to her now.”
His stomach twisted sourly. If this was goodbye, he needed to make it quick. They’d both get over this, in time.
“Winta, let’s go sit in the cockpit,” Omera suggested quietly. She seemed so aware of what he needed: time alone with the kid.
Without needing any other push, Winta and Omera went up the ladder to the cockpit, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and the child he’d fought to protect time and time again.
Din approached the hammock and realized he couldn’t be upset when he found that he was still asleep. He nudged the hammock, trying to wake him peacefully.
“Wake up, buddy,” he murmured. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
Grogu stirred, his eyes opening briefly, but sleep found him again, and Din sighed softly with a smile on his lips.
Eventually, Grogu whined and Din took the opportunity to lift him into his arms. Leaning back against the nook, he stared down at his son. Grogu took his finger and held it. His eyes opened a little bit more this time.
“Hey, Grogu.” Din grinned when Grogu’s ears perked at the sound of his name. “Hey, kid.”
Grogu hummed and his eyes slid shut, but Din didn’t begrudge him for wanting more rest. Instead, he held his son tighter and wished that the moment could last longer.
After a couple of minutes that stretched into dozens more, Grogu finally flexed his fingers into his palms and opened his eyes once more.
“You ready now, buddy?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I promised I’d take you to a Jedi… so, that’s what I’m gonna do. Okay?”
The Child stared at him blankly.
“You don’t belong with me. You belong with your kind.” It felt like a lie. “It’s time to go.”
He brought the Child away from the sleeping nook slowly. Stopping at a nearby crate, he prepared him for the small journey to town. Fussing over him seemed to come naturally, he mused, and he began to wonder if it was instinct.
Just as he was about ready to take Grogu back to Ahsoka, he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. It seemed he didn’t need to go back to town after all.
Din lifted the Child into his arm again and allowed him to hold onto two of his fingers as he descended the ramp to get closer to the Jedi.
“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka said gently. With a deep, steadying breath, she looked from Grogu and back up at Din. “I cannot train him.”
He hadn’t come all this way to hear such a thing, but there was hope that beat idly within him anyway. Maybe, if she just saw the kid do one more Jedi thing. Maybe if he could show her what he did to the Mudhorn...
“You made me a promise, and I held up my end.”
Ahsoka’s gaze shifted to Grogu and she took a few steps forward as she thought about something. She reached out to rub a finger over the Child's.
“There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython.” She looked up at Din. “There you will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has a strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”
“Then what?”
“Then Grogu may choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.” The Jedi folded her arms against her chest. “Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.”
Grogu babbled sadly.
She looked up at Din again, as if she could sense something. Her gaze shifted once more, to the ship just beyond him. Turning, he saw Omera standing at the top of the ramp on her own, watching the exchange.
“Thank you.”
Ahsoka took a step backwards, away from the Crest, and lifted a hand. “May the Force be with you.”
Din held Grogu just a little bit tighter as he turned away from Corvus and the Jedi on the ground. Omera gave him a tender smile and reached out to touch his arm as the door sealed itself shut.
“Guess there’s still at least one more stop. Tython.”
She nodded. “I heard.”
Together, he and Omera made their way back up to the cockpit of the Razor Crest. In silence and with a comfortable ease, he settled Grogu into Winta’s open arms and climbed into the pilot’s chair to begin preparations for takeoff.
They would have one more stop on this journey. It almost seemed like it would never end, but part of him was glad that they had more time.
Fear of the unknown path ahead of him could be pushed aside for a few more days, until the Jedi came for the kid. Then, Din would have to decide where the path was and what he would do next.
Once they broke the atmosphere into space, he heard Omera shift. Her chair squeaked just a little as it pivoted.
“Winta, would you please take Grogu with you down below? I need to talk to Din.”
His heart leapt. She wanted to speak with him alone? What for?
He turned around to face his passengers. Omera nodded gently to her daughter, silently asking her to leave. The girl stood to her feet with Grogu tucked beneath her arms and stepped out of the cockpit.
Once the door slid closed behind the children, Din focused on Omera.
“What’s going on?”
In her eyes, he saw something he’d seen a few times before: her secret.
She was interrupted by Winta the last time she almost told him. Now, they wouldn’t have any interruptions.
“I said I would tell you something when we found the Jedi. Can I tell you now?”
He swallowed the freshly formed lump in his throat and nodded just barely enough to be registered.
“Yes.”
Omera sat forward in her seat with her hands clasped together in her lap. She seemed confident, but at the same time, he saw nervousness in the way she breathed. She silently debated what to say before speaking, and when she did, she kept her focus on him.
“I’ve wanted to tell you since you came to Sorgan, but I keep getting tongue tied.” A soft, tender look filled her features. “I’m expecting a baby.”
His heart leapt and his stomach lurched. “You’re…”
She straightened out in her seat and settled her hand against her midsection, revealing to him a gentle swell of her belly.
How had he not noticed? How had he not noticed?
Looking away from her hand over her body, Omera met his gaze once more.
“Ahsoka told me that she could feel him in the Force.” An excited smile spread wide, crinkling beside her eyes with the purest form of joy. “She said it’s a boy. He’s healthy and strong.”
A baby. A boy. Omera was pregnant.
How had he not noticed?
Din felt almost lightheaded as the brunt of the reality of it hit him with full force. She had been with him for a few weeks and hadn’t uttered a word about it to him.
Should he be offended? Concerned? Angry? Happy?
How the hell had he not noticed?
Moments from their time traveling together flashed through his mind one after the next. Near-death experience after near-death experience. Danger after danger. Fight after fight.
Guilt cascaded over him in a hard wave.
Omera’s smile faded as time ticked on. “I know it must be surprising for you to learn. I was surprised when I found out, too. I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to have another child. He’s already changed my life so much.”
As much as he wanted to be happy for Omera as her friend, there were so many darker thoughts in the way of that. He was angry that he’d put her into situations that were so risky. Angry that she hadn’t told him the truth beforehand.
Angry at the betrayal he felt for loving someone who didn’t feel the same. There wasn’t any chance that he had anything to do with her child after only one night with her. There must have been someone else. Right?
He closed his eyes and his head fell. He didn’t know how to ask her if she was committed to another without breaking his own heart.
“Is…” He paused, hating the way his voice cracked. “Is it... mine?”
“Oh,” she gasped out of surprise, “Din, yes, of course.” Her voice was breathless, weighed down with a sense of relief. “How could I have been with someone else?”
His heart rate doubled at her admission. She hadn’t been with another. He was the one Winta had told him about on Trask: the one her heart chose. It wasn’t a surprise to him, but it did fill in some of the uncertainties he felt.
“Omera, you could’ve been hurt. You could’ve…”
His chest began to heave. The thought of losing Omera hurt more than even the thought of losing Grogu.
“I knew what I was getting into coming with you, Din.”
“I know, but I didn’t know that you were-” Din cut himself off when he realized his voice was raised. He sighed heavily. “I put you in danger.”
She shook her head swiftly. “I don’t blame you for any of it. We’re all okay.”
He couldn't shake the anger off of him for putting her in danger. It had been part of the agreement when she came along, but she hadn't told him ahead of time about her child. He could've done more to keep her safe.
“When we were still on Sorgan, you could have told me.”
Omera's focus went to her lap for a moment. “I didn’t know if telling you would’ve made you want to stay. I didn’t want it to force you to. You are on a path with Grogu to find his kind. A path I wasn’t on until you asked me to come with you.”
His chest began to ache when he realized just how much she cared for him. Without knowing how he felt for her, he imagined it would have been difficult to admit her secret to him. Allowing him to continue on his path for the Jedi had been a selfless act, even if it may have been a shortsighted one.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” There was a worried frown on her lips and her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, but she didn’t beg or plead. “If this changes how you feel about me, about our future… I understand. I haven’t been honest with you.”
Suddenly, she stood up in front of him. She took one of his hands into hers and settled it over her middle. He could feel the curve of her body. It was so very real.
His breath caught in his throat. He felt hot, as if the armor he wore was suffocating him, but it was the only thing keeping him from absolutely breaking down.
“This child is yours. If you want him.”
At her words, the weight of the day came crashing down on him. He’d almost had to let go of the kid, and now he had so much more than he thought he’d ever be given.
Somehow, he’d been given Omera. Beautiful, kind, gentle, Omera. And after just one night together, he’d been given a child. His own flesh and blood. A boy, if the Jedi was right. His son.
“If not…” Omera managed a weak smile and lifted a shoulder. “That’s okay. Winta and I can return to Sorgan. I’ll keep the baby safe and he’ll be loved. You can visit if you want to.”
Din stared at her from behind the haze of his visor and suddenly, it felt like he was playing a game. Wearing his armor in front of Omera felt like a child’s game. What purpose did it serve him to cover his face from her?
She was his equal. The one his heart belonged to. The one who carried his child.
If there were Mandalorians who didn’t need to wear their helmets in order to stay faithful to the creed, he could bend the rules and step across the line for Omera. Of everyone in the universe, she deserved to know him wholly.
He pulled his hand away from her body and decisively stood so that they were on equal footing. She stared up at him with an edge of uncertainty in the depths of her eyes.
The last thing he wanted was for her to be unsure about how he felt about her, or about their future.
Din settled both hands on either side of his helmet. Slowly, he lifted it from his head and lowered it to rest on the console beside him.
With the helmet removed, he could breathe freely. Cool air entered his lungs through his nose in deep, steady breaths that he forced himself to take.
All at once, he felt just as terrifyingly bare and exposed as he had on Nevarro with the IG unit. Anxious and self-conscious thoughts flooded his mind, but he quieted them when his focus settled on her.
Somehow, she was more beautiful to him, seen without obstruction. He could see more clearly the roundness of her belly, a sign of his child growing within her, and cursed himself again for not seeing it any sooner.
Omera seemed overwhelmed by his choice to remove his helmet- just as much as he was. Unshed tears gathered in her eyes and the softest gasp escaped her parted lips.
“I love you, Omera.” His voice was barely a whisper. It embarrassed him, how fragile he sounded, but she could see him as he was, truly, and it was everything all at once.
Hesitantly, she reached out for him with one hand. Her fingers were cool when they ever so softly grazed his cheek and his eyes shut instantly at the feeling. Invisible sparks lit up on his skin like fireworks that made his heart jump in surprise.
Slowly, her fingers slid upwards, until her palm rested over his cheek, and he leaned his weight into her hand. He opened his eyes again to meet her gaze.
Omera tilted her head and offered him a tender smile, just as fragile as he felt. “I love you too, Din.”
As if she knew it was too much to handle all at once, she lowered her hand away from his face and settled it against her middle instead.
Everything felt different. Everything felt new. Changed. The world he’d made for himself had been shattered in the best, most terrifying way. He and Omera were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family.
He took a moment to admire her, each pretty eyelash, every freckle, each breath she took that lifted her chest. It was different, in a good way, seeing her so freely.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need anything? Do you feel sick?”
Omera laughed out of surprise. “No, I’m fine.” She soothed a hand over her bump. “The worst of the sickness is over.” With a soft sigh, she added, “I feel so much better now that you know, too.”
There would be so much that they’d have to decide. Where they would go. What they would do next. How they would raise the kids. But all he could think about was her, and how he wished he could give her the entire universe.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
He shook his head, unsure what she meant. “About what?”
“This is a lot all at once… I would understand if you were overwhelmed.” She drew in a breath and averted her gaze, looking instead at the floor. “The day you left Sorgan, I thought it might have been partly because of me… because you weren’t sure what to do-”
He settled his hands over her hips and Omera timidly peered up at him.
“It is the Way to have a family,” Din told her. “Children are important. I didn’t think I’d ever have any of my own, though. It’s easier to travel alone.”
She nodded in understanding. Hope shined in her eyes brighter than it had before. “It was meant to be.” Her smile spread. “I’m so excited to meet him. I think he’ll be a lot like you.”
He felt his eyes grow wide with even the thought. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of what their child would look like, or act like. It was different for Omera. She’d had the experience with Winta and knew what to expect.
“I hope he’s more like you. Not me.”
Omera tilted her head with an affectionate smile. “We’ll see soon enough.”
His hands shifted on her hips and he squeezed as his thoughts shifted to the path that laid ahead of them. The Jedi had told him to take Grogu to Tython. Could he do that now? Did Omera want to do that now?
“Should we go back to Sorgan?” he asked. “If Gideon’s after the kid, it’s dangerous traveling with me.”
Omera frowned. She pressed both hands against his heart and he reached up to hold each hand, almost instinctively.
“We found the Jedi, but the journey isn’t over.”
“No.” He searched her eyes and thought about the way Grogu had so easily accepted Omera into his life. “You’re like a mother to him.”
“I know. I’ve felt it too.” Omera softened some. “If you want to take us to Sorgan, we’ll be alright waiting for you to come home to us.”
Home. He’d had to find his home on the Razor Crest the past few months, with the kid. Now, he’d have to figure out what home looked like with Omera, Winta, and, eventually, a newborn.
Overwhelmed, he lowered the crown of his head to hers and shut his eyes. She reached up to the back of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair, her fingernails scraping lightly against his scalp as she went.
As he considered next steps, he knew that he needed to be careful, but Omera had proven herself capable in dangerous situations. She’d been an active participant in several fights, eager to help in whatever way she could, all while secretly pregnant. He’d become stronger because of her help. Together, they were a powerful team.
If what Ahsoka told him was the final step in finding a Jedi that could train Grogu, there wouldn’t be much left to their journey. And if Gideon was out there, they could work together to protect what was theirs.
“You should come with us,” he told her. “Grogu would like that.”
“And when it’s over, what will we do?”
He shook his head. “We’ll… figure it out. We’ll be a family. All of us. If that’s what you want.”
Din pulled back from her just enough to meet her eyes. She lowered her palm to his face again and caressed his cheek with her thumb.
“I want that very much.”
It filled him with so much hope knowing that she loved him.
“Me too.”
A happy smile found her lips. “I'm glad.”
Their eyes locked in a way that they hadn’t since that night on Sorgan, with a silent fire burning within each of them. He couldn’t help the thought that came to him next: he could kiss her if he wanted to.
He had never kissed anyone in his life, but something about the moment made it feel right. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.
It almost felt like time itself slowed to a stop. Maybe it did. Just for them.
Pulling back, he kept his eyes shut and put his forehead against hers. Omera’s hand gently found his neck.
“You have given me so much,” she murmured with regret in her tone. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your creed as well. I never saw your face. Put your helmet back on.”
Din shook his head. He pulled away so their eyes could meet. “I want you to know me like this.”
Omera still seemed hesitant. Her fingers caressed his face, running over the curves and lines of him as if she wanted to memorize what he looked like. Each touch felt like a reviving spark that lit his heart up with the brightest light.
She pulled her hand from his face when she was done.
“There was a time I believed I would have been content never seeing your face.” Her dimples popped when she smiled at him. “But I’ll admit that I’m thankful I know who you are beneath.”
His heart leapt. “Does it give you hope that our child won’t be a monster?”
Omera’s gaze fell to her middle and the smile on her face spread. She laughed and it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard.
“I wasn’t worried, but… yes.”
Din admired Omera again. She was everything to him.
When he lifted his helmet into his hands, it felt strangely heavy. He hesitated with it, studying Omera one last time unobstructed by the visor’s haze.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Having heard her voice once more, saying those precious words, he resolved that it was time to put the helmet back on, so he did.
He didn’t know what the future held for him other than what stood before him. The idea had scared him before, the uncertainty of what he’d do once the Child was safe with his kind, but now, a different fear found him.
Would he be able to live as a Mandalorian within this newfound family? Could he provide for them? Keep them safe?
No matter where he would find his path leading him, he could only hope that he would be enough for Omera. For Winta. For his child.
#mandomera#din x omera#the mandalorian#my writing#the edge of hope#it's time to meet a jedi!#this chap is aka: The Big One
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