#imagine one day youre trying to send important information to the resistance and then some little brain freak interrupts you and insults yo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Note

hi it's 🍃 leafy!

My bf actually came up with the idea lol!

OKAY IMAGINE TRYING TO WAKE LEGOLAS UP AND HE'S JUST LIKE "no." SO YOU GIVE UP AND JUST SPEND SOME TIME IN BED WITH HIM 🥰🥰

But then you have to wake up to do your chores, Leggy still in head. Thranduil is worried and comes to look at him... BUT LEGGY THINKS IT'S STILL YOU TRYING TO WAKE HIM UP AND PULLS HIS FATHER TO BED AND CUDDLES HIM! LMAO!

Thranduil is a mix between awe and WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SON?

You return to see this too!

Please could you write this whenever you are feeling better? I wanted to send it in in case I forget, because I have the memory of a stupid minion!

Thanking you 💜💚

Dearest leafy anon, of course...this was a pleasure to write and here it is <3

Words: 1,5 k

Warnings: none

Characters: Legolas x reader, & Thranduil

“Prince,” you purred, laughing when Legolas merely nuzzled closer into your bare shoulder, “we’ve got to get up.”

“No.”

His definitive grunt, holding quite a bit of that stubborn haughtiness he got from his father, made you chuckle once more; Legolas was a dear creature – brave, generous, and kind – but he was also almost impossible to wake up in the morning.

Or at least that was your experience; it was true that he had accomplished exceptional deeds of valour and steadfastness in the past and you had often wondered how he had managed to defeat so much evil when you had to all but drag him out from between the sheets most of the time, but you had not been particularly eager to seek out the council of the king on that subject.

When awake and asked about it, Legolas would usually say that it was your warm, fragrant, comfortable presence that made him so reluctant to let you leave his arms and that, hence, he was easily dissuaded from starting his own day just yet.

Pressing your lips against his fair brow, you resigned yourself to whiling away a bit more time in his tender embrace. Even though you were fiercely aware of the duties awaiting you – piling up in your absence and promising a stressful day of running late for every one of them – you could not resist the seductive pull of his strong limbs that kept drawing you in until you lay – cradled safely – against his broad, muscled chest.

There was not a thing you didn’t love about him; you adored the way he smelled in the morning – green growth and fertile earth – and the feeling of his smooth skin under your dancing fingertips; idly, you pencilled a list of your plans for the day onto his collarbone in the invisible ink of your love and looked up just in time to see the dreamy smile that made his lips quirk.

Strands of his hair – shining silver in the early morning light filtering through the badly drawn curtains – wrapped around your fingers as you caressed his head as if his whole being was loath to let go of you.

“Legolas,” you tried again after another long moment of getting lost in his ethereal and almost heart-breaking innocence, “I really have to get up now. Join me, my love?”

He hummed vaguely and you sighed; extricating yourself from the sweet cage of his arms and legs coiled around like vines felt like tearing off your own skin.

If it had not been of the utmost importance that at least one of you should appear at the meeting about to begin, you would have liked nothing better than to stay holed up in your nest of tangled sheets and deep affection for little while longer.

Dressing quickly, you strode out of the room – regret shivering down cold and clammy your throat – and made your way to the meeting room before you could change your mind.

Legolas’ disgruntled moan had sunk sharp hooks of discontentment into your flesh that now released the slow poison of impatience into your bloodstream though; every step was torture and every breath you took shallow with yearning.

“It has been cancelled,” the king – holding a piece of bread slathered in honey – informed you dryly. When his eyes sought but did not find his son at your side, his brows rose in surprise.

Your anger froze into incredulity; this was just your luck – to have struggled so in vain – and a mean streak of petulance started to flare into life upon seeing the placid face of your father-in-law.

“Where is my son?” he asked, already casting aside his breakfast, and standing in a flurry of rich robes; apparently, you were not the only person who had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. In your case, the whole problem had been getting up at all, but Thranduil seemed considerably dismayed as well.

“In bed,” you replied curtly while eyeing the discarded food covetously; you truly hoped that Legolas would be down any minute and would hence join you while you were breaking your fast; otherwise, you’d prepare a tray and take it up to him for a romantic meal under the covers.

Uttering one of those non-committal guttural sounds that were so typical for Thranduil – at least in private - the king nodded and left the room without any further explanation.

Shrugging, you snatched a morsel from the leftovers of his meal and – while chewing slowly – you put together a solid meal for your beloved and yourself.

Puttering around, you suddenly became aware of how much time really had passed since you had first opened your eyes when the sun had reached a point in the sky from whence it could slant into the room and paint dancing flecks of gold onto the smooth floor.

When had you come down here by yourself? How long had Thranduil been gone?

Slightly worried yourself now, you wiped your mouth, lifted your carefully arrayed tray, and retraced your steps to check on your two favourite royals.

Legolas knew that he probably should be getting up and – just as he had almost convinced himself that lying in bed was not worth angering his father without having his beloved by his side – a warm hand came to rest on his bare shoulder.

Without thinking twice, he grabbed it and tugged, overjoyed that you had decided to skip the meeting and join him in bed once more.

“M’father can wait,” he mumbled, nuzzling into his pillow, and dragging your arm – when had it become so long? – over his shoulder to cuddle deeper into the stolen embrace.

This was just what he had needed: the warmth of another body beside him and the certainty that he was loved and protected here within these hallowed halls that kept the darkness of the world at bay.

The massive ring banging against his forehead made his eyes fly open though; your fingers were nowhere near as long as the ones he was holding, and he was sure that you had not been swaddled in the long robes that were now entangling his legs when you had left your chambers.

“Good morning, son,” Thranduil chuckled good-humouredly, relieved to find that there was nothing amiss with his Little Leaf other than laziness.

It had been years since he had last been invited to sit by his son’s bedside and caress his soft hair in comfort and solidarity; if he was honest, he often missed those fleeting moments of paternal pride and tenderness.

The seed he had cradled and nurtured had burst into bloom – shooting up and away from his roots at a dizzying speed – and it now no longer needed the affectionate tending of an old king; Thranduil hated having become obsolete in the life of the one he would have kept under his wing for all eternity.

Just in that moment, you burst through the door to find your venerable king half hanging off the bed you shared with Legolas, half thrown across that very same prince as if he was a light shawl one wraps around one’s shoulders against the autumn chill.

You blinked, but they were still lying thus, a grotesque painting of domestic and familial bliss.

Blindingly handsome, they looked as if poured out of the vat of starlight, as if moulded out of gold and silver, as if crafted out of diamond and moonstone, and a fond smile of emotion tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Father!” Legolas cried out, flinging away the arm hitherto slung around his shoulders with enough vehemence to all but toss the king out of the bed, “Whatever do you think you’re doing?”

“I was worried you were taken ill,” Thranduil griped, slightly vexed by his son’s reaction.

“I am not,” Legolas hissed, pulling the blanket up to his chin as if he’d never been seen undressed before, “now, if you would remove yourself from my bed, please?”

“Legolas,” you chided sharply, “your esteemed father and king has come to inquire after your well-being, the least you can do is be civil about your own lack of discipline.”

“Sorry,” Legolas muttered immediately, visibly chastised but meeting his father’s wounded gaze bravely, “I apologise, father, thank you for looking in on me and holding me as you’ve done all my life.”

A moment of deep complicity and unfiltered love played out before you and you felt humbled and honoured to be allowed to witness such a rare instance of earnest vulnerability between two fearsome warriors and dreaded foes to the forces of darkness. Then, as they both looked up at you rather sheepishly – silken hair dishevelled and light eyes flickering with embarrassment – you added: “Neither one of you has had breakfast…how about you both get your hair fixed and I’ll await you in the adjoining sitting room?”

As you walked over to the sunny room you had just crossed in such a hurry and laid out the breakfast, you sighed, they were chaos and mischief poured into shapely, living flesh, and you loved them more than words could say.

So, here's another Leggy story from me, featuring soft Thrandy and surprising cuddles!

Lots of love from me; I hope this was to your liking <3

#request #IDNMT answers #legolas #legolas x reader #thranduil #good dad #surprise cuddles #breakfast #fluff

119 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

So I was showing my sister your amazing Q-A posts, when I came across Peter's. I realized that you just keep mentioning the incompetence of the Order, and how they're just a bunch of babysitters who don't do anything throughout many posts, but never actually wrote a rant about them and their members. Can you do that, while stating all the things they did/didn't do and their uselessness to the Order? What can I say I love your rants!

Caveat that it has been a while since I’ve read books 5, 6, and 7 of Harry Potter. I have a fantastic memory but some things may slip my mind. If I grievously offend anyone and it turns out the Order does actually do something, anything, of any vague importance then feel free to let me know and shame me on the internet.

With that, the story of why I think the Order of the Phoenix is a ridiculous organization that was mostly there because Dumbledore felt the need to have a guerilla resistance group (you’ve got to have a guerilla resistance group! Or, if Tom has a secret cult, I must have one too! BUT WITH BIRDS! COO COO KACHOO TOM RIDDLE!)

First, let’s look at our lineup.

Yes, we have a few aurors in the midst, but even with them the lineup is... worrying. In the first war we knew that key figures had presumably just graduated Hogwarts and joined the Order (James and Sirius). For all we know, they were recruited even before graduation. This makes sense as James’ is a big financial win for Dumbledore and was probably, perhaps with Longbottom, in charge of funding most of their operations. That and he and Longbottom give Dumbledore a voice in the Wizengamot (which so far as I can surmise is the only real governing body in the country, the ministry exists, but it all boils down to the Wizengamot).

The point being, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily are all barely squeaking out of Hogwarts not only when they join the Order but also even by the time they die. More, it could be because the books are from Harry’s point of view and he has a serious thing about worshipping James, but James in particular is made to sound very vital to the Order’s operations. A twenty-one-year-old who charged Voldemort without a wand (I really shouldn’t give James shit for this, it was a desperate situation, an attack they had not anticipated, he’s young, and panicking. I will still give James shit for this.)

Otherwise we have Mundungus Fletcher, who gives strong vibes of being an alcoholic and is just a generally unreliable, shady, dude who will steal your silverware and pawn it on the black market when you aren’t looking.

We have Molly and Arthur Weasley, whose only use I can possibly think of is being moral support and... I don’t know... providing safe houses maybe? Seriously, we have no indication they’re good at dueling (less so as Harry’s shocked when Molly takes on Bellatrix and miraculously wins). We know Arthur’s not a very intelligent guy. Arthur and Molly have no sense of... Well, suffice to say, if Dumbledore gave them any real information they’d run away screaming. They throw Percy out of the family for becoming Fudge’s secretary, I’m sure Dumbledore was just internally screaming and begging them not to do it so he can make Percy a spy. But he can never say as much as such a notion would horrify Molly and Arthur. Molly and Arthur are also presented as vital members of the Order by the way. Molly and Arthur. ARTHUR.

We have what remains of the Marauders in the second go around: Remus and Sirius. Remus, while a competent wizard, nobody can quite trust for the reason they couldn’t quite trust him last time: he’s still a werewolf and has no reason to support the current government. Sirius is recovering from ten years in hell and is in no condition to do anything, knows it, loathes it, and is clawing at the walls of the safehouse he was pretty much forced to provide the Order.

We then have the aurors. Kingsly seems competent enough but more than him we have Moody and we have Tonks. Tonks is young and seems very very green, she was a good enough duelist to get into the auror corps but we know she’s dreadfully clumsy and often seems to treat Order business as this very exciting super secret mission she’s on. Moody, is a paranoid wreck who is almost comical for his utterly ridiculous skepticism of everything and seems incapable of making any true plans or taking any real action.

Looking at the Order of the Phoenix is kind of like watching “Dodgeball”, you just have this really weird collection of people who try to dodge wrenches, only the Death Eaters aren’t much better, so it kind of evens out.

But onto why I think they do nothing... It’s because we see them do nothing.

We don’t get much information on the first war but at best it seems like there were a few minor skirmishes in the street now and then. I always imagine something like the Sharks and the Jets in Westside Story. They’re walking along the streets, spot each other, dramatic music ensues and a rumble begins, then they scamper away when the aurors come in.

Remember that these guys aren’t a legitimate organization and really don’t have the structure of one. Back in the day they were probably, essentially, a street gang.

We get a little more evidence of what we see them get up to in the later books. And it’s all just kind of sad.

Remus is sent on the world’s most ridiculous and hopeless quest to recruit werewolves. Why do I say ridiculous and hopeless, what the hell does Remus have to offer these guys? Werewolves are ridiculously oppressed by the current government, they cannot obtain an education, they cannot hold jobs, they’re desperately unemployed and people routinely talk about wiping them out. Remus comes up to them and says, “Hey guys, come support the guerilla movement that supports the government that talks about killing you all the time! It’ll be great!” They’ll either put Remus’ head on a pike or if they’re nice just laugh at him until he leaves. I’d say it’d be worth it, except that it’s an exceedingly dangerous task that probably would end with Remus’ head on a pike. As it is, it ends in embarrassing failure. And this is one of the more legitimate Order missions.

Hagrid, similarly, is sent to talk to the giants and it ends in equally embarrassing failure for the same reasons (why would the giants ever support the ministry and or Dumbledore who promises them nothing). Also, sending Hagrid to talk diplomacy, with anyone, ever. Surely, there’s no way that could possibly go wrong.

Otherwise their big task seems to be to babysit Harry and transfer him from the Dursleys to the Burrow/Grimmuald Place. The first, they fail at, Mundungus gets put on the job the one day something actually happens and it’s a complete disaster. The second, they also fail at, as I never understood why they couldn’t just portkey him where they needed him to go or at least closer by. The polyjuice flight across the sky was... really unecessary.

You can tell by the seriousness with which most Order members, i.e. Tonks, take the babysitting Harry duty that this is a very serious task for very serious people. Given this, Tom’s lack of overt action in the fifth and sixth books, the fact that we don’t seem to see them do anything even in the seventh book... Yeah, this and keeping an eye out for that prophecy are their most exciting jobs.

Remember that rescuing Harry from the Department of Mysteries wasn’t really Dumbledore’s idea. That was an emergency situation where he had to pull out the stops, more, I suspect Sirius went “CHAAAAAARGE” and gleefully rushed out into glorious battle with the Order directly behind him and Dumbledore going, “Well, shit.”

I guess the last thing I’ll say is that we also see that Dumbledore has very little confidence in the Order. He gives them nothing important to do and, more, gives them virtually no intelligence.

He never tells the Order about the horcruxes (their existence or Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s super serial mission to track them down and destroy them). He never relays to them that Harry himself is a horcrux. He never reveals the suicide ploy with Snape or that he was in fact dying before that point. He never reveals Malfoy’s assassination attempts. Dumbledore doesn’t tell them jack shit.

If he relies on anyone, usually when he’s forced to, it’s Severus Snape. This I think is not only because Snape is forced in a way to be loyal thanks to the life debt to Harry as well as his own overwhelming sense of guilt but also because he’s the only really intelligent and competent one there.

The Order’s just... if you need someone to pick up Harry or else keep an eye on him when Mrs. Figg is busy: they’re your guys. Otherwise, they make Dumbledore feel good about himself?

#ask #anon #the order of the phoenix #harry potter #headcanons

370 notes · View notes

collectivefandomstuff · 3 years

Text

Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

343 notes · View notes

snow-leopard-7772point0 · 4 years

Text

I'll Change My Crown, from Light to Dark

The akuma landed on Marinette's windowsill, the girl not even noticing as she sat in the tattered remnants of her designs. Luckily she had dropped off most of her completed works the day before to be delivered to the appropriate patrons, though everything she had yet to send off was ripped, cut, burned, there wasn't a scrap of cloth that was usable for anything but as a guide for buying more. Her sketchbook was in shreds on the floor, paper scattered like confetti over the remaining slivers of all her hard work.

The akuma danced in place. It's master was urging it to go forward, to possess the girl, but… there were so many objects to choose from! Should it just possess the entire room? The sewing machine? One little scrap of fabric? A piece of paper? What about her emotions? This butterfly had made some of the strongest akumas to date, though the strength behind her feelings was astromically larger than any other person they had targeted. The little insect itself was slightly afraid to act as a bridge for her. It finally flew forward, choosing the scraps of the dress the girl had been making herself for the Wayne gala.

Marinette froze when her emotions intensified, hearing Hawkmoth cooing in her ear. "Greetings, Mistress Hawthorne. They all accuse you of being the bully, of being a liar, never paying attention to the proof you give them. They destroyed your designs, your livelihood, and expect to get away scott free. I'm giving you the ability to turn all your ruined dreams into hawthorn bushes that force people to see the truth, whether they can accept it or not. No more hiding behind lies or masks, everyone will have to be honest and pay for their crimes. All I ask in return is for Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous."

"I refuse, Hawkmoth "

The villain froze for a second. Only one other person had ever resisted him so easily, and that was due to her love for Ladybug. Nothing about Marinette Dupain-Cheng screamed that she truly cared for the heroes, so why would she resist? He was giving her the perfect way to get revenge! If he didn't fear that it would give the heroes a clue to his identity, he wouldn't have even asked for the Miraculous for this offence! "Why do you refuse? Imagine how great it will feel, trapping them in their castle with your thorns until the truth comes out!"

"Oh, make no mistake, revenge will be divine. But I'm already looking at little to no sleep for the foreseeable future so that I can press charges against them, email all my patrons whose clothes were destroyed about the delay, buy all the fabric to remake their outfits, and get my own dress together for the Wayne gala. Luckily I'm not starting completely over with it, their mindless destruction gave me an idea for my dress, but there is still much to do. I have no time to become an akuma, I have to get to work immediately, and it will be tomorrow before my classmates are all in the same place again."

"What… what if I didn't ask for the Miraculous in return, and you miss a few days of school to get everything completed?

"While missing school may become a necessity before everything is over and done with, I still have much to do. It would take far too long to force the truth out of Lila Rossi, and I am uncertain if Ladybug's Miracle Cure would erase any progress I made on designing as an akuma. You seem like a reasonable businessman, I'm sure you understand."

"Ah, yes, I do, actually. Cut me some slack here, I've been trying to akumatize you for over a year now! What kind of cloth are you cut from?"

"A different kind from my classmates. I refuse to stoop to their level. Besides, I have pride in the fact that I am not helpless, and the costumes I see akumatized people in are atrocious. Please have a nice day, but I do need to get to work."

"I-very well then. Good luck. Please at least make your classmates suffer."

Marinette's smirk alone was fuel to create a fear-based akuma. "They'll pay. But on my terms." The purple butterfly left her dress, and Marinette caught herself as she slumped to the floor. Resisting Hawkmoth had taken much more out of her than she had anticipated.

⏳

Gabriel rose from the underground room, surprising Nathalie. "Sir, surely she didn't-"

"No, Nathalie, she didn't loose. She didn't even accept my offer. I even offered to not require the Miraculous this time, but she still refused. Her mental strength is highly admirable, especially when her guard is at its lowest. She would be a great asset to us."

"In what manner?"

"Any way I can get her. She is one of the best designers I have seen in a long time, especially at her age. I caught a glimpse of her revenge plan when my akuma possessed her and it was astoundingly terrible, and she is kind and independent enough to make an amazing daughter."

"Sir, kidnapping is illegal."

"I don't have to kidnap her, I'll throw Adrien at her." Gabriel started to wave his hand in dismissal, then noticed the look on Nathalie's face.

"Sir, I think you should watch the rest of this." Nathalie walked forward, bringing up the video from earlier. Gabriel had only watched a second of it before rushing to his butterflies, it was easy to recognize the girl's room by her designs. He'd been gunning for her since she lied to him to help keep Adrien in school and made the feathered hat. Her spirit and dedication let him know that she could be a great ally or terrible enemy. She didn't (yet) have the money or power to come after Gabriel Agreste on her own, but he was certain that the girl was being considered for a Miraculous. He knew she didn't already have one, she hadn't responded to Miracle Queen, after all, but several of her classmates had used one. He actually paid attention to the video this time, watching all the way through. The first people seen on camera were the blogger girl and Lila Rossi, several other classmates cropping up through the video. He didn't notice Timebreaker, Evilillstrator, or the Bourgeois girl, though he did see his own son halfway through the recording, happily cutting at a gown that had been carefully beaded with a hawthorn pattern with a pair of scissors, cutting off the beads and chunks of fabric.

Gabriel's frown deepened. "Cut all ties to Lila Rossi immediately. We will be making a public apology, telling the public that we did not know of her abhorrent tendencies, nor did we expect her to pull Adrien into her schemes. Adrien will be appropriately punished, and we will offer Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng compensation for the destruction of her property, along with a small team of designers that will know to make every stitch to her preference, no matter their opinion on the piece."

"Of course, sir. How would you like to make your statement to the public?"

"Call that news anchor, Najda Chamack, and ask her to come here. I will speak to her in person as soon as she is available. I also want the apology posted to every social media outlet we use, including our official website."

"Sir, is this not overkill? This isn't Audrey Bourgeois."

Gabriel glared at Nathalie. "No, she is not. She designs for more famous people than Audrey does. She is the main designer for the Wayne gala this year. Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Tsurugi Tomoe, even the Wayne's commissioned her work. All of her designs are paid for in a split payment plan, the money for the materials is required upfront while the rest of the payment can wait until after the person received their design to make sure it is what they want. That means there will very likely be several highly influential individuals and families gunning for us because of Rossi and my son."

Nathalie paled. She hadn't imagined that the small girl who stumbled and stuttered every time she saw her would have that kind of power backing her. Everyone knew that the girl had Jagged Stone backing her, MDC was his main designer for everything and anyone who personally met the girl and the rocker knew who MDC was, especially since they were supposed to have their identity reveal at the Wayne gala. Jagged Stone by himself would be bad and the company would take a hit, though she was positive Marinette would stop him before he went too far. But with so many others working with Jagged… Gabriel (the company) would not survive.

"I will get everything arranged." Nathalie quickly left the office.

⏳

Marinette's first order of business was to email all of the clients affected by her classmates's actions. She informed them that they did not need to worry, as she was suing all the students for the costs of what they destroyed- not just materials, but labor as well, and would be buying new material for their clothes out of her own pocket until she got retribution. She also informed them that their orders would come in slightly later than planned, though not by much. Clara, Jagged, Kagami and her mother, and the Wayne's all responded to her email with assurances that things happened and to take her time. Bruce Wayne offered to delay the gala so that she would have plenty of time to rectify the situation, though she was quick to assure him that it was not necessary.

Her next order of business was cleanup. She collected every scrap of fabric big enough to make so much as a small patch or strip and sat them in a small box next to where her personal dress was. Everything else was collected and thrown in the trash. She dug out her receipts for all the fabrics destroyed, including the fabrics for projects intended for her classmates. She quickly pulled up the video Alya had posted, writing down who destroyed what. She matched the fabrics to the people, then calculated the time she would have spent on each piece. She reviewed the video one more time, noticing that none of the art students, including Chloè, were in the video. Though it was to be expected. The whole class knew how important all art was to the art students; those students would have stopped them if they were in the know. Chloè was not only in the art club, but also still exiled from the class, though her relationship with Marinette had gone from bully to ally. They still weren't friends, but they stuck together against most of the class, only Nathaniel and Alix leaving them alone. The class may have had five braincells in the entire room, Chloè, Marinette, Alix, and Nathaniel each having one all to themselves while the rest of the class, including Madame Bustier, shared the other one, but they used that one braincell to know who could be brought in on a scheme like this.

Marinette had just finished calculating who she would she for what and was on her way to buy fabrics when her phone rang. She grabbed it as she opened her hatch, activating her recording app as she answered. "Hello?"

"Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, it has come to my attention that Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi have vandalized your property. Lila Rossi has already been terminated and Adrien will face suitable punishment for his actions. I wish for you to come by the manor at your earliest convenience for us to discuss payment."

"If you're free now, I was just about to head out."

"Of course. I'll send a car for you."

"Merci, Monsieur Agreste." Marinette pocketed her phone and made copies of the expenses each of her classmates would be charged. She had no way of knowing where, exactly, Gabriel Agreste stood, but she refused to leave anything to chance. The original, along with the receipts, was stored in her diary box while one copy was left on her desk and another found its home in her purse. She stopped by the kitchen to inform her parents that she was headed to the Agreste Manor and would explain later before walking out to wait on the car.

⏳

Adrien was smiling after school. He had never realized how freeing it was to tear clothes apart, especially clothes made by someone who refused to listen to him. Marinette deserved everything she got, plus some. He wondered what of hers he could destroy next.

He was surprised when he returned home to see his father glaring at him from in front of the stairwell. "We need to have a talk, son." The designer's voice promised pain. "About your friends and actions today."

Adrien stared at his father, confused. "Why? What happened?"

Gabriel growled. "Nathalie."

"Sir?"

"Show him the video, then leave us to our discussion."

"Yes sir." Nathalie quickly pulled up the video of the class destroying Marinette's designs and held the tablet out to Adrien before taking her leave.

Adrien watched the video, unable to understand what had angered his father. "Do you understand what you have done?" Gabriel demanded.

Adrien shrugged. "I got payback. She wouldn't listen to me when I told her to lay low, so I decided to help the class teach her a lesson."

Gabriel coldly glared at his son. "You have cost me over a thousand dollars just in the hours that girl put into her work. That does not include the cost of the materials, deformation of private property, or potential unlawful entry and vandalism charges. How do you know that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is not currently an akuma gunning for your head? Or that her clients aren't going to press charges? Her clientele could ruin your entire class, your entire school, with a single phone call."

Adrien scoffed. "She doesn't have that many big clients. Just Jagged Stone. And Marinette can't get akumatized. She's too stubborn to listen to anyone."

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Adrien, I'll tell you this as your classmate is revealing it in less than a month. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been taking the world of fashion by storm while using her initials, MDC. Only certain celebrities and rich people know who she is, mainly people she has worked or designed for. Jagged Stone is the first and main one, yes. But Clara Nightingale has been using her more and more. MDC is the main designer for the Wayne gala, not only Monsieur Stone and Mademoiselle Nightingale commissioning her, but the Tsurugi family and the Wayne family, along with several friends and supporters of the four families. Aubrey Bourgeois supports her, perhaps even more than she supports me, and I have admired several of her pieces done for contests."

Blood began to drain from Adrien's face, though Gabriel doubted that the boy fully understood anything yet. "Her mother's best friend is Najda Chamack, and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng babysits her child. Her uncle is a famous chef who loves his family dearly, especially since his great niece learned Mandarin to be able to talk to him and help him with his French. Alix Kubdel is friends with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, and also comes from a respectable family- as well as Chloè Bourgeois becoming her ally after she helped with her mother. Not to mention that the Dupain-Cheng family is not hurting for money, as they are the best and most popular bakery in Paris. They get orders from all over the city, plus serve at almost every party that has edible food. You attacked the livelihood of one of the most powerful children in Paris. Not only that, but you destroyed the property of some of the most prolific people in the world." Adrien's face had lost all traces of blood, though Gabriel did not expect it to be from shame. No, his son was afraid because he had been caught. "You will not return to school until Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng has revealed herself as MDC to the world, nor will you have access to any of your social media, messages, or phone. You may return to being homeschooled. I shall have to reassess the situation at a later date. If I do allow you to return to school, it will not be François-DuPont. You will drop contact with your current classmates. You are dismissed." Gabriel turned from his son, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

⏳

Marinette was escorted straight to Gabriel's office upon arrival. The man shook her hand before gesturing for her to take a seat. "Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, my assistant showed me the video of what your classmates did. My sincerest apologies. I assure you that my son is currently being punished and Mademoiselle Rossi's contract has been terminated. I also wanted to offer you compensation for your loss as well as a team of designers that will follow your instructions to the last stitch."

Marinette eyed the elder Agreste. "What do you want in return?"

Gabriel blinked at the girl. He knew she was smart, though he hadn't expected her to ask that. "For this? Nothing. My son deserves every lawsuit you draw up. I remember what it was like when I was first starting my company; something like this would have been devistating."

"Well, Monsieur, covering everything will not be necessary. I have already calculated the damages each student did and how much they owe for it. I am not holding you responsible for the actions of any of my classmates, not even Agreste or Rossi. I'm sure you have paid your son for working for you," Marinette felt viciously victorious when he nodded, "in which case he should be able to pay for damages himself. The same holds true for Rossi; she was a contract model for your company and was paid as such. They should both be able to afford my work- custom or not."

"Might I see what you've drawn up? I heard from Aubrey that you have a tendency to undercharge for your work, and, as you just said, my son and former employee should be able to afford your work. The beaded dress my son ruined, for example, should cost twenty-five hundred dollars, bare minimum. I would charge much more than that, especially with how much work is put behind hand-beading." Marinette could do nothing but gape at her childhood idol. She had been expecting a bribe, a threat, something to try to protect his son.

She pulled the paper out of her purse when he raised an eyebrow, pulling the video up on her phone. "Césaire was stupid enough to put her phone in the corner where I could track everyone's movements, and I can figure everything out if I can get Markov. I figured out who destroyed what and calculated what they owe from there. I don't know who picked the lock to the upper floors, or to my room, though my money's on either Césaire or Rossi. Césaire's obsessed with being a great reporter while Rossi is a liar and a thief. Harleprè, Lavaillant, Bruel, Couffaine, and Lahiffe owe the least, they didn't do much. They just ripped a few pages out of my sketchbook. Raincompx, le Chein, Césaire, Rossi, Agreste, and Kantè did the most damage, and so will face the bigger lawsuits. I have already contacted my clients and informed them of the slight delay. Your team of designers, while most appreciated, will not be necessary. It shouldn't take me more than a few days to recreate the Wayne's suits and send them off, I sent the dresses yesterday. Jagged and Clara will both be in Paris next week and can stop by my house to pick up their outfits and have a final fitting. I can easily deliver the Tsurugi chensogams to their home. That covered everyone that had their outfits for the gala destroyed. I had finished the majority of them yesterday and done the final checks before sending them off. I was supposed to send the Wayne suits off today, though that plan was foiled. I was lucky that I went ahead and finished my commissions rather than more personal projects. Most of what got destroyed were projects my classmates requested of me rather than important works."

"Are you positive you don't want help? At least on your beaded dress?"

Marinette pulled up pictures of what she had. "I have several different scraps of colors, most of them either on the darker end of the spectrum or metalic, from the works they destroyed. I'm going to use those scraps from my other works to make a pair of wings on the back of the dress, the colors getting darker the further down they go and metalic fabrics making the outline of the wings."

Gabriel considered the dress. "You'll look like a fallen angel. I hope you're still planning on charging my son the full amount for the dress."

"Most definitely. There will be some alterations I make besides the wings, putting some pieces back together, cutting or tearing others, partially rebeading sections, I have some work to put in. Your son added to my work load when it was already full, he personally destroyed not only my dress but Jagged and Penny's outfits as well. Might I know what punishment he is suffering?"

"So you can plan revenge accordingly?" Gabriel questioned. He sighed at her innocent expression. "He will no longer attend François-DuPont. He will basically be under house arrest for everything except shoots until after the gala. I am undecided as to whether he shall go to another school or be permanently homeschooled. He is not allowed any contact with his former classmates nor access to social media or his phone. So if you wish to strike, do it right after a photo shoot. You can do it before or during as long as you don't ruin the clothes on display."

Marinette's grin was pure evil. "Don't worry, Monsieur Agreste. I have too much respect for the work designers put into their work to be so crass. Will Agreste still practice fencing with Kagami?"

"I shall allow it on a trial basis."

"Very well. It was nice meeting with you, Monsieur Agreste, but I must take my leave. I have too much to do before I traumatize, I mean get payback, I mean revenge, wait, no, deal with my classmates after the gala. But before I go… You wouldn't happen to know anyone that would be able to teach me how to, how should I phrase this… I guess basically be an Ice Queen?"

Gabriel smirked. "Actually, my nephew, Felix Graham de Vanily, will be at the gala. He's a model from England, and many consider him an Ice King. He'd be a great teacher." And perhaps potential mate to bring you into the family. I wonder how many love akumas it would take to get you two together… perhaps Adrien needs a good influence his age around the Manor…

Marinette slightly felt as though she had signed her future away, though that was ridiculous so she simply thanked Gabriel before leaving.

⏳

The next few days flew by in a rush of designing and lawyers. The lawyers her parents got were more than willing to come to the bakery and talk to Marinette as she sewed, especially since she had eyeballed them and given them all scarves and beanies the next time they were there. Marinette didn't bother to pay attention in Bustier's class, electing to nap instead. She was awake for Mendeleiev's classes, though. She liked her dragon-like teacher as the woman actually taught her students. She managed to finish her clients' clothes with time to spare, having gotten so used to designing for Jagged, Penny, and Clara that very few adjustments needed to be made. A couple Wayne suits had come back with notes on where they needed to be adjusted and how, and those were shipped back out that same day. Her own dress took until the last minute, Marinette completely finishing it, including adjustments, the day before she was set to leave for the gala. She would be staying with Jagged and Penny in the Wayne Manor for the two weeks she was to be there, a week before the gala and a week after. Her classmates's parents were horrified to hear what their children had done, making sure the kids paid every penny of what Marinette was suing for without even going to court. Alix and Nathaniel had nearly gotten in trouble with their families, though Marinette was quick to personally visit and explain things. Apparently the other families had contacted the Kurtzburg's and Kubdel's about the scandal with the children, no one noticing that some of the children weren't involved.

She already had her traveling designing kit packed so that she could make sure the Wayne's outfits all fit properly. Chloè and Kagami were traveling with her, determined to make sure their former rival was well taken care of while their parents took care of the hotel. Jagged was fuming beside Marinette whole they rode through Gotham, the girl talking to her friends.

"So, Mari-hime, you told me that you would explain what was going on if Adrien refused to before we left."

Marinette gave Kagami a highly stressed smile. "I think watching the video would explain things better. I didn't want you to get akumatized because of me while we were in Paris."

"So you knew Adrien would refuse to tell me what crime he committed against you. What video?"

Marinette pulled it up on her tablet. "For the record, I simply suspected that he would keep his mouth shut. Though Monsieur Agreste is making sure that his interactions with anyone besides himself, Madame Sancouer, and his bodyguard are highly limited." She passed Kagami the tablet, Chloè leaning over to watch it with her.

The Japanese girl dropped the tablet in her lap as she watched, clenching her fists so hard that her palms bled. "How- how dare that baka! They all have no honor! They should meet my blade!"

"Kagami. Calm down. I have it handled. I want you and Chloè to teach me how to be a vengeful Ice Queen while we're here. Monsieur Agreste suggested talking to his nephew for lessons as well. By the time I'm back in Paris, I don't want our classmates to be able to recognize me. I already have some revenge planned, the wheels for those are already in motion. I messaged the Césaire and Lahiffe families to inform the entire family that I will be unable to babysit for them for the foreseeable future. Ambassador Rossi has a request in her inbox to visit the school while we are gone, as Rossi's classmates would love to hear about what it's like to be an ambassador. The le Chein family was sent a list of tutors for their son's failing grades, unfortunately all those tutors work at the same time as mandatory swim practice. I sent Luka a copy of the video, so Kitty Section is about to loose their lead guitarist so that he can learn under my dear uncle. Agreste will be facing a startling amount of bad luck for a good chunk of time whilst loosing all of his beloved friends. By the time I am finished, even Hawkmoth won't want to work with them."

Chloè stared at her friend. "Did you really just say 'whilst?' Who hurt you? I just want to talk."

Jagged continued to sulk. "She won't even let me send my rockin followers after those bloody rats. She's only letting me steal away a new guitarist!"

"Because I have everything planned out. And Agreste will become even more isolated once we return. No matter what I say, Kagami is going to duel him to the, figurative, death before informing him of her distaste for him and his actions."

Kagami mock glared at Marinette. "So what if I do? He deserves it. He deserves much worse. But how will he become more isolated? I will still be sparring with him twice a week."

"A person is more isolated surrounded by people that don't care about them than all on their own. Yes, you will physically be there. But your obvious emotional distance will leave him more isolated than him being stuck in his room all day."

Chloè stared at her new friend. "Where was all this evil cunningness when I was your bully?"

Marinette smirked. "I had a wake-up call. Césaire, ironically, taught me that it's okay to stand up for myself, and Hawkmoth helped release a part of me I had blocked out."

"What? Were you akumatized? How did I not know?" Chloè demanded.

Marinette waved her hand dismissively. "It was a few days before we actually became friends, and he didn't manage to akumatize me. He possessed my dress, but I refused to work with him. Apparently he's wanted to akumatize me for a while, but I'm good at forcing myself to calm down."

"What was he going to call you?" Chloè was highly excited to finally have someone who knew what it was like to fully resist Hawkmoth. Not calm down before the butterfly reached them, not resist for a second before giving in, but fully resist the man.

"Mistress Hawthorne." Marinette laughed. "I was going to have the ability to turn my ruined dreams into hawthorn bushes that would trap everyone in their castle and force them to see the truth." Marinette had to stop, she was laughing so hard. "I told him no, and he was so shocked that he only argued for a second before wishing me luck with revenge!"

Jagged continued to sulk through the teens laughter, refusing to give in. He wanted to crush those bloody teens. No one gets away with hurting his niece.

⏳

As soon as she arrived at the manor and had her bags unpacked, Marinette began tracking down the Wayne's, one by one, and dragging them back to her room with their suits or dresses, forcing them to put them on so that she could fully alter them to her preference. Dick was scared of the tiny Asian girl that slung him over her shoulder before grabbing his suit and forcing him to come with her when he hesitated and then worked silently, ignoring his attempts at friendship. He was so scared of her that he sprinted the other direction the first time he saw Kagami. Jason and Bruce both wanted to adopt the girl- she blended in perfectly with their family, and Jason had witnessed both, the girl's kidnapping of his brother and Dick running away from Kagami. He had to respect someone who could instill more fear than Demon Spawn himself, and Bruce wanted to cultivate that talent until he got a Nightingale. Damian and Cass both respected the girl for her professionalism and silence (and word of her traumatizing Dick had already spread through the manor). Tim instantly fell in love with the girl, as she asked him if he wanted coffee or tea while they were doing his fitting, as he looked dead on his feet (he did not choose both or cry tears of joy, and no one can prove to Alfred that he did). Selina purred at the amount of pure chaos she could feel pouring off of the girl, even with her suppressing it while she worked. She needed a kitten. Bruce already had his litter, it was her turn. Kor'i bounced in place the whole time, trying not to inturupt the girl as she adjusted her glorious creation.

Jagged disappeared with Bruce after his fitting, explaining to the billionaire what Marinette had been going through, even showing him the video of her work getting destroyed, before asking for his help to get revenge. He explained Marinette's known plans, and the rocker and vigilante began planning around hers, using their collective contacts and knowledge to open the class's wounds even deeper.

Dinner that night was chaos. Jason, Selina, Bruce, and Jagged were in a constant argument, with Penny occasionally interjecting, that abruptly cut off any time Marinette drew near, she was only able to catch the words adoption and revenge, Kagami and Cass spent their time in silence, eyeing each other. Chloè didn't breathe while swapping between berating Dick and Tim for their fashion choices and interigating them about Gotham and its foreign student transfer policies. Damian scowled at everyone the entire time from his seat next to Marinette. Marinette did her best to emulate him, not noticing Dick slowly sliding his chair further and further away from her.

Damian decided he liked tolerated Marinette five days into her stay. Dick had been complaining to him and Jason about how much Asian girls scared him and Kor'i wanting them to live with them. Marinette had somehow heard his complaints and came storming up to them, cussing Dick out in a mixture of French, Mandarin, Arabic, Italian, and English. Damian did not know why that caused a blush to creep up his face, though he admired the way her accent curled around the words, making everything seem like a language all of its own.

Jason chuckled when she walked off. "That. That was the art of cussing at its finest. I'm getting Alfed and we're going to go teach my new little sister how to shoot guns. Angel's my favorite, you can all suck it." Jason walked off in the same direction the girl had left in. It didn't take but forty-two minutes for the sound of gunfire to echo around the house.

⏳

The night before the gala, the women in Wayne Manor gathered in Marinette's room. The night was spent coaching her on how to act and reveal her identity, both on the carpet and during the gala.

"Don't fret so much, kit." Selina advised. "You are a queen, act as such. Keep you head up and keep your cool. They'll all be tripping over themselves to speak to you, and you don't give them the time of day." Chloè nodded her agreement, even as Kagami objected.

"You're approachable and professional at the same time. Just let people see both sides of you."

The women continued to argue, Marinette finally escaping to talk to Alfred. She spent the night under his tutelage, learning all she could about presentation. The man finally ushered her off to bed. "You have a long day tomorrow. You will need sleep to get through it."

⏳

Once arriving at the gala, Marinette kept her head high as she glided down the carpet, the press quickly stopping her to ask if she was a new Wayne and what happened to her dress. "No." She offered a small smile to them. "I'm the designer MDC. The Wayne's hired me to design their suits, and were kind enough to offer their home to me and my aunt and uncle, even letting two of my best friends, Tsurugi Kagami and Chloè Bourgeois, spend the majority of their time with me at the Manor. My parents live in France, where I will be returning to in a weeks time. My room was broken into a few weeks ago, and some of my classmates ruined the outfits I had in there, including my dress. I decided to take what they did to my dress and use it as proof that nothing will bring me down. Excuse me, I need to go. I do not wish to keep my companions waiting." Marinette offered them a small bow before leaving them, giving the press a good look at the drooping angel wings sewn on the back of her dress.

"Angel," One of the reporters breathed, leading to a frenzy. MDC was announced to the world that night as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Angel of Gotham.

⌛

Finding her group was easy, and it was almost just as easy to spot Felix, Gabriel's nephew. She grabbed Damian by his forearm, the boy too startled by her random action to react, and drug him over to the boy she assumed was Felix.

She tapped.the boy on his shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Felix?"

The boy gave a hesitant nod. "Great! I want the two of you to teach me as much as you can about being a vengeful Ice Queen."

Felix raised one eyebrow, looking between the girl and the scowling boy. "What do we get out of it?"

"You get to live with the knowledge that I am going to use your teachings to traumatize idiotic classmates and I can keep the girls from making passes at you, as you are already occupied with entertaining a lady."

The boys both quickly gave their consent, refusing to let the girl leave their side for even a moment the entirety of the gala. They were appeased enough with the girl that her lessons continued throughout the following week, the boys enchanted enough with her to seriously consider following her to Paris and watching her strike like a coiled viper.

⌛

When Marinette returned to school, she had changed. Not just in personality, no, she changed everything. Her personality (at school), her hairstyle, her clothes, everything was redone to fit who she had become. Flowy black pants, a black sleeveless top held up by a ribbon that wrapped around her neck, a red leather jacket loosley hung on her frame, and black boots could be seen under the pants.. Her gaze was frozen as it swept over the class. She was unsurprised to see Adrien sitting in his usual seat, Gabriel had informed her of his decision to place Adrien back in Bustier's class for the time being so that Marinette could teach him a lesson. Alix and Nathaniel had transfered out of the class as soon as they had learned of what the students had done, moving to Madame Mendeleiev's class. Chloè was also leaving, though she was transferring to Gotham after the week was up. She wanted that week to be able to watch the havoc Marinette would wreck on the class. Kagami had already decided to join the class, and Marinette spotted her in Nathaniel's old seat. She was not expecting to see Felix frowning next to Kagami, nor Damian smirking at the back of the blond's head. Thanks to those very boys, though, it was amazingly easy to hide her surprise. A smirk crawled its way across her face, even as she stepped far enough into the room that everyone could see her. She had timed her entrance perfectly. As soon as the class went to explode with praises and questions, the bell rang, Madame Bustier walking in and asking them to all take their seats. Marinette made sure her steps were conscice enough to make it seem as though she was gliding up the rows, refusing to shoot her classmates so much as a glance.

Lila walked into the room moments later, late, her gaze zeroing in on Felix. "Felibear! It's so nice to see you again!" She squealed, rushing up the steps.

Felix stopped her with a cold glare. "Do I know you?"

Alya glared at the blond. "How could you ask your girlfriend if you know her? Especially since everyone knows you transfered to François-DuPont for her!"

Felix looked scandalized. "I did no such thing! I came here on request of my uncle. There are very few people here that I know from previous endeavors."

Lila burst out into tears. "H-how could you treat me like this? At least my Damiboo didn't do this!"

"Damiboo?" Marinette asked. Clearly Bustier wasn't going to stop the girl.

"Oh, I forgot you weren't here!" A sly grin crawled across Lila's face. "I suppose Damiboo didn't speak to you the whole time you were in Gotham, otherwise you would have known I used to date Damian Wayne!" The girl boasted.

Marinette looked at the horrified expression on her deskmate's face, and began her countdown. "I would never date a harlot like you!" He burst out, unable to stop himself. The class turned to stare at him, then realized that he had been just ahead of Marinette when the Wayne's and Jagged Stone arrived at the gala.

A slow smirk crawled across Marinette's lips, erasing the smile she had given her friends. "Do tell, Lila. I would love to hear all about your relationship with the Wayne's. Or about you dating Felix here. Oh! What about your relationship with my uncle? Save any of his cats lately? Let's not forget Clara Nightingale! Since she steals her music and dance moves from you, perhaps we could get a preview for her next video?"

Adrien frowned at Marinette. She seemed… different. "Mari, don't be so mean! Your supposed to be our everyday Ladybug, the better-"

"Agreste, if example is the next word to come out of your mouth I will steal Chloè's six inch stiletto right off of her foot and shove it down your throat while I laugh at your struggles." Adrien's mouth snapped shut as he paled, the class staring at Marinette in shock.

"Marinette! That was uncalled for!" Madame Bustier frowned at the girl. Perhaps letting her go to Gotham was a mistake.

"Really, Madame Bustier? From where I'm sitting, it was perfectly called for. Agreste is not going to use my emotions to manipulate me into being the perfect placemat anymore. You are not going to manipulate me into being the perfect victim. I will no longer tolerate this class's treatment of me. Four people in this room have the authority to call me by a nickname. They know who they are. Four people have the ability to ask something of me. None of them were the ones that destroyed my sketchbook or commissions. None of them told me that I always have to be the better person and set an example for my classmates. I refuse to allow myself to be used any longer."

Alya glared at her friend as the rest of the class stared at the noirette in shock or turned their head away from her in shame. "Girl, what are you talking about? First you want us to pay you a while bunch of money, and now you don't want to do anything for us?"

Damian started to retort himself, stopped by Marinette's hand on his arm. Her voice was frosted fire when she commanded the room. "Everyone in this room, excluding my four friends and our teacher, had a hand I destroying commissions for the Wayne gala, requests from all of you, and my sketchbook. That is why you were sued for damages. Some of you paid more than others because Alya was gracious enough to post a video she had taken of what you did on her blog that allowed me to see who destroyed what. That allowed me to see exactly who has hell to pay." The dangerous smirk several of her classmates had noticed danced across her face yet again, like a sword would dance in the hands of Robin.

Adrien scoffed. "you're just a baker's daughter. What could you possibly do?" He paled not long after the words flew out of his mouth, remembering what his father had told him.

"You look like you just remembered that I am not just a baker's daughter. Why don't you share with the class?" Marinette offered up one of her customary sunshine smiles, though Adrien was not fooled this time, quickly yelling the class exactly what his father had told him.

Lila blanched. Forget the Agreste's and that stupid reporter, she should have set her sights on Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette smiled down at the class, her court sitting in the back two rows with her. Chloè had kicked Felix out of his seat next to Kagami, and Felix had nudged Marinette into the middle of the bench, sandwiching her between Damian and himself.

Her blue eyes were frigid as she glared down upon her kingdom. The time for the Queen of Light was over- Darkness had come for her, and she welcomed them with open arms. Her crown darkened, from gold and diamonds to silver and onyx, and her reign had only begun.

#I'll Change My Crown From Light to Dark #Daminette #Felinette #Felidaminette #Félix Graham de Vanily #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Salt #Bashing #Miraculous Ladybug #MLB #mlb #MDC #Gotham #Wayne Gala #Clara Nightingale #Jagged Stone

1K notes · View notes

96dys · 3 years

Text

hydrangea ; johnny seo

money makes the world turn. there was so much of it, and yet so few people ever saw it. maybe if it weren’t for the money, johnny might have acted differently. maybe his family’s badgering wouldn’t have weighed on him as much as it did. maybe he wouldn’t have taken you, because finding a wife this way wouldn’t have mattered. he didn’t like the circumstance, but he couldn’t keep himself from liking you—the dirt-poor girl who worried more about helping others than feeding herself.

ceo au

taglist: @tyongpoetry @xianxian95 @aaaaalex05

masterlist

02 | little prince

eating breakfast alone wasn't something that was very new to you, though it wasn't often that you were able to eat breakfast, let alone something this size. your stomach had begun to ache just looking at the size of the plate in front of you, but your eyes lit up in awe of the colorful array of fruits. of course, they were accompanied by an alarming amount of vitamins and supplements, just as you'd been asked to take the previous day. a glass of water was provided to help you wash it all down, which you gladly sipped on between bites.

for the sake of getting out of your bedroom, you'd asked to have your meal in the common area, though you did your best to keep yourself just as isolated. you sat with your legs crossed in front of the coffee table, mindful of the way the skirt of your pale pink dress fell upon your lap. despite being alone, you couldn't help but feel as though you were being watched at all times. the door was open but a crack, just enough for you to see staff members pass through the narrow hallway. the curtains had been pulled open, allowing the bright sunshine to wash over your figure. a peaceful silence filled the air, something you were especially fond of. jisung was very kind, but you weren't sure you'd be able to handle any more of his mindless chatter after this morning.

of course, he had offered to keep you company while you dined, but you were very quick to decline. as hard as you tried, you were unable to hide your haste, for he had just spent almost an hour talking your ear off about the most random details of the wedding to come in just two days. it had gotten to the point where you stopped trying to decide which information was important and what was not in favor of blocking it all out entirely. even as you stood under the warm stream of water flowing from the showerhead above, you could hear him muttering things to himself as he tidied up your bedroom. you most imagined this behavior was due to growing up without the presence of others his age--if anyone at all. while you did feel sympathetic toward the boy, you weren't used to the constant noise.

your previous life was fairly quiet, even at the tiny, makeshift school where you had spent all of your free time. there was always the odd occasion where a child or two would be exceptionally talkative, though most of the time the children were too malnourished to have the energy. it was a struggle to get the group to participate much at all, let alone speak amongst themselves. you tried your best to encourage your pupils to make friends with one another, but this wasn't something that was accepted with open arms. you couldn't even find it in yourself to be upset at them for this, given that your brother had been your only friend growing up; it was this way for most people you knew.

after a long day at the school, you would go home to an empty home. it was tiny and everything seemed to be falling apart, but it gave you a private space to unwind as much as you possibly could. you never cared to invite anyone over, nor did you have anyone to visit. it was lonely at first, but after a while the silence became very calming. perhaps this was because it was the only constant in your life; the only thing that would be waiting for you at home without fail. a meal was not always promised, nor was a new book to read, but there would always be a heavy silence ready to envelope you as you drifted off each night.

looking down at your plate, you noticed that it was nearly empty. oh how you wished your brother was there to fight you over what remained, like he used to when he was too young to understand how little your family truly had to go around. unless you finished your food with incredible speed, he would begin whining about how hungry he was, about how you needed to share with him. you would always shoot him a glare and questioned why he deserved to eat more than you did, which would only result in the little boy pinching the tender skin around your ankles. as you cried out in pain, he would quickly grab at the food resting atop your lap., smiling to himself as he bit into your food. this wasn't something you ever imagined yourself missing, although the change in circumstance caused the memory to become very fond.

after having your entire life uprooted against your will, you've found that many of the things you used to find so unpleasant have been on your mind. this was especially conflicting, as none of these were things you had to deal with within recent years. it almost made you sad to realize that there was nothing to your life that was worth missing; everything you cared for had been ripped from your fingers the moment all of your family members were gone. you longed not for the days you spent as an adult, but the miserable nights you spent as a child begging your father to stop yelling at you over whichever minor inconvenience had stressed him out that time.

perhaps the anger you felt toward your current situation was purely out of spite, though this only caused your heart to sink a little further down into your chest. was your life of so little meaning that you couldn't find a good reason to continue to be hateful? did you have so little back home that this new setting seemed only a little less than pleasant? the change was beyond unfair, yet you could only sigh knowing that you were likely better off here anyway. you wanted to do more--to lash out in anger, fear, or something--but you just couldn't.

a light knock floated through the air, causing you to dart your head toward the door. it had been pushed open, allowing johnny to lean against the frame. he was smiling down at you, like he was genuinely happy to see you a second time. your eyes widened ever so slightly, just enough to make him chuckle. you had been doubting his promise to make time for you everyday, so his presence came as a bit of a surprise. in all honesty, you figured that work would come first, making you an afterthought for him to tend to at the end of the day, but he was as early as he possibly could be without having interrupted your meal. it was as though he couldn't wait.

"i'm really glad to see that you've eaten," he spoke happily, glancing at your plate for a moment before returning his gaze toward your face. he could tell that you'd taken all of your vitamins as well, which made his smile widen just a bit. a wave of joy washed over him momentarily, knowing that you felt comfortable enough to do so without any resistance. he made a mental note to send someone to clean up the remains of your meal, though it wasn't like you had left much of a mess at all. "we don't have to leave now, but i'm ready whenever you are. i don't mind waiting in here for a little while if that's what you want to do."

you set your fork down on the edge of your plate and shook your head. there was nothing left for you to do here and therefore no reason to stay. standing up was a very slow process, as you had to be very cautious in your dress, but it felt nice to stretch your legs once you were able to do so. it was no surprise that you were fatigued already, but you hoped it wasn't very obvious to the man in front of you. he seemed unfazed, so you assumed he was unable to tell.

"please tell me there's less walking this time," you muttered, mostly to yourself.

johnny laughed in response as he took a step to the side, allowing you to pass through the doorway. it wasn't hard to fall in time with your lazy footsteps, yet continuing to keep your pace posed a bit of a challenge for someone with such long legs. he did his best, though he wound up a few steps ahead within a minute flat.

he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a white plastic card. he waved it around for a moment before returning it to its spot, smirking down at you.

"it's your lucky day; being with me means you get to use the elevator and not the stairs."

an elevator. you were unable to form a proper response. of course, you'd read about such a thing in a few of your old books, though you had yet to use one yourself. it wasn't very often you ever entered a building with two stories, let alone enough to warrant the installation of an elevator. you wondered why the little card was relevant, only to conclude a few moments later that it must be some sort of a key. then, you wondered why it would be restricted. if you were able to use the stairs without issue, what was the purpose of deeming the elevator off limits? if they accomplished the same thing, you would get to your intended destination regardless. maybe he felt that blocking off the stairs wasn't needed, given the likeliness of you getting lost before making it anywhere important.

for a brief minute or so, you found yourself feeling less than adequate. it wasn't that you felt an overwhelming need to impress anyone here, but it was quickly becoming evident that you truly knew so much less than he did. the rational part of your brain knew that there was no one to blame for this, and yet you couldn't help but think that you should've taken it upon yourself to learn more. just knowing how to read as fluently as you did was a feat in and of itself, but the accomplishment seemed meaningless in comparison to all the things you did not know. you didn't even want to think about how poor your math skills had to be next to his.

much to your surprise, it didn't take very long to reach the elevator either. you both stopped in front of two metal doors, causing you to stare curiously as he swiped the little card. you bit back a gasp as they pulled apart. when you were rushed down to the garden yesterday, you had assumed that these doors were different solely for decoration. remembering that johnny works in technology, you didn't feel that it would be very off to assume that he would have more of a futuristic sense of style. stepping into the little room though, you realized that this made much more sense.

each wall was mirrored, causing you to become lost in your reflection as the doors came to a close. you could see johnny press a button on the large panel to his right, though you failed to focus your attention on the action itself. you didn't bother to wrack your brain trying to figure out how the elevator began to move on its own just a few seconds later, as you were so entranced by the couple that stood before you. you were already well aware of the height difference, since it was so hard to ignore during a conversation with the man, but it was so much more interesting to see the both of you side by side. he looked like a giant standing next to your small frame.

his eyes met yours through the mirror, causing you to quickly look away. he only smiled at your response, waiting but a second more for the elevator to come to a stop at the correct floor. as the large doors slid open, he gestured for you to step out first. he wasn't worried about there being any trouble finding the library, as it was located directly across the hall. this in mind, he allowed you to lead the way, which you seemed more than happy to do.

he thought it was cute how your steps became so much lighter once the open doorway was in sight, how your eyes seemed to light up upon entering the large room. he watched as you stopped a few steps into the library, examining your features as you looked around. while he had been expecting a positive response, you surely didn't disappoint. your jaw was nearly on the floor as eyes the size of saucers scanned the maze of bookshelves.

just past the entrance was an area that resembled the common area; a large sofa sat opposite the door, which was paralleled by a coffee table of equal length. there was a chair positioned on either side, though the fourth side was left open. the furniture sat atop a beautiful floral rug, which distracted from the dull navy carpeting the rest of the room had been floored with. there were rows upon rows of shelves on the three sides in question, rows that seemed to go on for miles.

"a's start just to the right over there, i think," his voice rung in your ear, snapping you out of the book-induced trance you'd fallen into. he pointed in the general direction you needed to go, which was all the permission you needed to begin walking. you were too excited to respond, so you simply allowed him to follow your fast paced footsteps as you began searching for the book you wished to read.

you'd never seen so many books in your life, let alone all at once. your heart did jumping jacks in your chest at the realization that you could never possibly be bored here. maybe every storm cloud does have a silver lining. no matter how unhappy you might become in the future, you were certain that you would never run out of books to take your mind away from the world. you couldn't wait to get lost in each and every one.

"are you looking for anything specific?"

you could easily make out the curiosity woven into every word. his fancy shoes made a dull click clack noise against the thin carpet, the sound trailing behind you. it didn't sound like he was making an effort to match your swift pace, but then again, he didn't have to. his legs were so long, you knew he could easily match your fastest sprint with a brisk walk if he ever decided to try.

"no."

yes.

once you finally reached the aisle you were looking for, your eyes lit up. the section marked 's' was very large, but you were quick to find what you were looking for. given the letter combination, saint-exupéry happened to be toward the beginning of the section. however, it was out of your reach. even standing on the very tips of your toes, every book on the top shelf was just out of reach. sighing to yourself, you fell back on your heels.

"which one?" johnny asked, causing you to quickly turn your head.

you had been so lost in thought that the sound of his voice startled you, but his close proximity was even more surprising. there was maybe two inches between the both of you. his steady breaths felt warm against your neck even after you turned away. flustered, it took you a moment to respond. regardless of your feelings toward him, no man had ever been so close to you before; you weren't sure how to react.

"uh, it's on the top right there—the little prince," you answered finally. your voice came out a soft mumble.

he reached over your head and easily pulled your book away from the others. you assumed this was why he'd gotten so close, and you were correct. the moment he passed the book on to you was the moment he took two steps back. regardless, this did nothing to stifle the heat burning in your cheeks.

in an attempt to ignore it, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the lounge. he walked beside you now, most likely because he had a very good idea of where you were going. there was no reason to follow you around like a lost puppy otherwise.

"why that book?" he wondered aloud.

there was a part of his brain that worried that the question was a bit too personal, but he couldn't help himself. after watching you move through the library at such a fast pace, he had to ask. you were nearly jogging; that book had to be extremely significant to you for one reason or another. glancing down at you, he noticed that you couldn't take you eyes off of the cover.

"um..."

you allowed the sentence to fizzle out, unsure of how to begin, or if you even wanted to at all. having been pulled away from your past life, you hadn't decided whether you wanted to talk about it with anyone. you didn't have much of a story to tell, yet it still felt like something you should lock away entirely. though you didn't truly understand why, you dreaded the thought of letting anyone here get to know you. whether this was because they were undeserving or because acknowledging your past life made this one real, you didn't know.

weaving through the seemingly endless aisles, you allowed you gaze to fall upon the book again.

your brother was a bright young boy, almost too smart for his own good. he never tried to be a troublemaker—not the kind you felt the need to raise your guard around anyway—but he would risk anything to stimulate his mind. if he didn't have a book to stick his head into or a math subject to teach himself he fell into a painful state of boredom. he couldn't stand being bored; you remembered him declaring once before that not doing anything productive made him feel like his brain was rotting from the inside out.

"it's only a matter of time before it starts dripping out of my ears," he used to say.

to this day, you were able to recall in great detail the first time he got himself into trouble with your parents. he managed to drag you down with him without even trying to; your parents found you guilty before you even opened your mouth. all over a stupid book.

"it's not like he can even read it!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

while his intellect surpassed even the adults in your life, his age was really showing. just like any thirteen year old boy, he felt that your parents were just overreacting; that what he'd done surely didn't warrant this kind of response. after all, it wasn't like he'd truly hurt anyone. even if he really did want to, you knew he didn't have it in him. much like yours, his attacks were never physical, only verbal.

to an extent, you agreed with him. the law wasn't really enforced unless you had the money to make people care about your problems, so you doubted he would get into any real trouble. the most that could happen outside of the home would be some kind of beating from the people he'd stolen from, but you doubted they would even notice its absence. however, watching this situation unfold had begun to give you a headache and for that reason alone you felt he deserved to be punished. "you still stole it," your father shot back.

he stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest. your father was a short man, but he still managed to make himself look intimidating when he saw fit. his actions helped greatly; he had the tendency to raise his voice when things didn't go his way, or allow his eyes to narrow into a glare that would tear through anyone in his path. sometimes you hated him for being this way, but deep down you knew it wasn't his fault. working such long days with almost nothing in return was enough to drive any man crazy.

your mother though... you looked to your mother and saw nothing but disappointment painted across her face as she held the book in her hands. you frowned. for the first time in a very long time, you witnessed her express something other than exhaustion. she was so kind and caring, but she was empty. everyday was a constant fight to keep her family afloat through high tides and thunderstorms, but over the years the tiny raft she'd woven for those she loved most broke apart piece by piece. everyday you watched a tiny piece of her float far far away right along with it.

"how could you let this happen?"

you quickly averted your attention toward your father, your eyes widening as a wave of shock wracked your body. he glared down at you, but you didn't really understand why; you hadn't done anything wrong. and so you said nothing. instead, you nervously pulled at the hem of your shirt, wishing this would all go away. but this wasn't good enough. when you failed to respond, he only rose his voice even more. he pointed his finger at you accusingly, like you'd gone out and committed the crime yourself.

"you were supposed to be watching him! it's not like you have anything else to do. you don't work, can't go to school—what could you possibly have been doing that was more important than making sure your brother stayed safe at home?"

it was then that you began to cry. tears flowed down your cheeks in rivers as you tried so hard not to start hyperventilating. you never took criticism well—not when it was far from constructive. it felt like he had lunged at your throat and your windpipe was beginning to crack under the pressure. if he kept at it, you were certain you wouldn't be able to handle it at any capacity.

you refused to respond. what was the point in trying if your father wasn't even going to try to understand? how were you going to tell him that your idiot brother had managed to sneak out because you spent the day asleep on the cold, hard floor? how were you going to explain that you were so tired, that your body was so physically exhausted that there were periods of time where you were unable to stay awake during the day?

you couldn't, not when everyone else struggled just as hard as you did. you could already imagine his response, something about how he works himself to the bone and still manages to stay awake.

it was pointless.

you thought you were never going to be able to forgive your brother for that day. that night, when you were certain the rest of your family had fallen asleep, you picked the book up off of the floor where your mother had left it. it shouldn't be there; your brother shouldn't get the pleasure of reading it.

so you hid it. you remembered having to be so careful as you moved the heavy water pot, struggling to keep quiet as the lid began to gently crash into the rim. you then lifted up the broken floorboard beneath it and placed the book inside of the small opening before repositioning everything. that night, you laid next to your brother feeling content with your actions, yet no more happy overall.

for so many years, you avoided that book just as much as you did the negative memory associated with it, but after your family passed, something changed. it didn't feel like something you wanted to distance yourself from anymore, but rather something you wanted to hold close to your heart.

the first thing you did once the body collection team cleared your home was rush to the water pot. you were so hasty in trying to move it that it tipped over in the process, spilling what tiny bit of water was left all over your thighs. but holding that book in your hands, it didn't matter. there was a tiny piece of your brother you had yet to familiarize yourself with and you so desperately needed to. it felt like it was all you had left of him. for almost a month you read the book time and time again until the tears stopped; by then you had memorized the entire story word for word.

the little prince.

"someone that i used to know was really interested in it, that's all," you said finally.

you were too stuck inside your own head to notice how much time had passed, but by that point you'd reached the lounge already. the couch closest to you suddenly seemed very inviting, so much that you quickly sat down in the middle. your mind was still a bit too far away to realize what you'd done, but by that point it was too late.

johnny was left to seat himself on your right. much like before, this left very little space between the two of you. this got your attention immediately. your cheeks burned red hot as he rested his arm atop the edge of the couch behind you.

"would you mind if i read it?"

too stunned to form a proper sentence, you merely nodded and placed the book on his lap. when you took the quickest look up at him, you saw that he was smiling. it was a genuine smile, not one of those smug smirks you'd seen once or twice before. staring toward your lap now, you could see him using his free hand to quickly flip to page one.

oh. he was going to read it to you.

"you don't have to do all that," you quickly spoke up.

you did your best not to come across as rude. in reality though, you weren't sure whether or not you should've said anything at all. you had yet to decide if you were uncomfortable with someone like johnny making himself part of something so sacred, or if you were angry at yourself for letting his close proximity make you so flustered. no matter how much you tried though, you couldn't help it. it would've been this way with any boy, you told yourself, but the fact that it had to be him was so, so irritating.

the brunette scoffed lightly.

"you think i don't care enough to get to know you?" he quirked an eyebrow at you, only resulting in your gaze being averted elsewhere. a moment went by as he awaited a response that never came. "i don't want to be strangers; i want to know things about you. i think it's premature to say that things are most definitely going to be real between the two of us, but i would like to try, if you'd let me. at the very least i want to get to know you as a person. if this book is something you're into, i want to read it."

he watched as your eyes fell upon the open page. as hard as he tried, he couldn't make out the expression contorting your features. somewhere deep in his being he was hopeful you were considering what he said, though he knew not to get his hopes up. while he understood why you would do so, the idea of being wed to someone who refused to keep him any closer than arms length made him sad. while he despised it, it happened to be the normalcy and there was nothing he was able to do about it.

almost pleading with you, he quietly added, "for me? you can sleep for all i care; just entertain me for the rest of the hour, please."

very hesitantly, you nodded and allowed him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. he then pulled you close, causing your breath to catch in your throat for a moment. never before had you been held this way, nor had you witnessed your mother in such a position; this type of intimacy was something you'd only ever encountered in the few fairytales you'd been able to read in your youth.

as he began to read in that oh so soft tone, you found yourself lost in thought. the more you tried to think of an occurrence where this scenario had been normalized during your childhood, the less you were able to come up with. it would be humorous to call what you were required to have with johnny love, and yet it was likely the closest you would ever come to such a thing in your life time. marriage was more out of necessity than anything, you had come to realize--especially for women. each person was allowed to interpret societal norms however they so chose, though you felt that marriage offered women a degree of safety that living alone was unable to, while men were given sex and children in exchange. in all your years, you had yet to come across a couple that seemed to truly love one another beyond this platonic agreement.

having been a woman that had grown used to living alone, you understood the need for a man in the house. it wasn't that you were very strong on ancient gender roles, but that you had been forced to live with such extreme anxiety at all times. what few policemen there were didn't care about any crime that didn't have the potential to pad their pockets, so young women were often assaulted late at night on the lookout for whatever scraps of food they might be able to find and eat. even going out during the day made you nervous at times, depending on who was in sight. you'd even made a mental catalogue of which neighbors seemed especially sketchy and why, as you had learned not to trust anyone. living seemed to become extremely dangerous after your father passed away.

your eyes began to flutter closed as his low voice hung in your ear. being endlessly tired was not something that was new to you, for each and every day you felt as though you could sleep for hours and wake up feeling like your limbs were packed full of sand. the man beside you wasn't helping either; the steady sound of his heartbeat was the perfect backdrop to your thoughts. perhaps he noticed, though you couldn't be bothered to open your eyes in order to check. instead, you allowed him to slowly brush his palm over your head, almost as if he was petting you. it was endearing in a way, though you would never say so out loud.

counting down the days, you realized there weren't too many left until the wedding to come. jisung had brought it up earlier, but the subject matter made you uneasy, so you did your best to tune it out, just as you did the rest of his blather. normally you soak up information like a sponge, but the young boy had begun to babble about who all he thought was attending, which wasn't something you cared to know. the thought of being trapped in a room with at least half of the world's most wealthy made a knot tie itself oh so tight within your stomach. not because you felt the need to impress any of these people, but because you had spent your entire life drowning in poverty while these people had very little to worry about. your main concern was finding a way to keep from choking one of them to death on your way down the aisle.

on top of that, it sounded as if the majority of the relatives that were to be in attendance didn't like the idea of your marriage in general. jisung had recalled chatting with a young servant named yeri over lunch, who apparently dealt with all of the invitations. he relayed that she was tasked with calling each household personally, so she was able to get a feel of how they had received the news. as he ran the brush through your wild locks, he snickered and told you not to worry about johnny's family, as she told him that over half of those she spoke with sounded very irritated.

"i think it's about the money, honestly," he'd laughed. his slender fingers then wove themselves through your hair, parting it in three at the nape of your neck. "that's really weird to think about, isn't it? maybe i've just been poor for so long that money doesn't really seem like something to pine over, but i think it's kind of ridiculous when people that have more money than i'll ever know what to do with are so upset that they're not able to come into more of it.'

in a way, you thought the boy was right. while you felt that greed was almost amusing coming from those who already have a great deal of money, you understood the need to pine over it. you couldn't even count the amount of times you had gone to bed hungry, as well as had to function starving the next day. even just a few dollars would've been able to keep you fed, even if only for the smallest period of time. maybe the issue wasn't that jisung had been poor for so long, but that he had all of his needs met for such a long while. in all honesty, you understood the want to fight tooth and nail for every dollar that came your way, as much as it pained you to admit.

suddenly, you felt johnny's chest move beneath you, quickly rising and falling as a gentle chuckle escaped his lips. even still, you pretended to be asleep.

"what's wrong?" he questioned, nudging you slightly. "you're gonna give yourself wrinkles or something."

you swore under your breathe. your features relaxed then. every crease in your forehead slowly evened out, then the rest of your face fell in line too. it wasn't something that you'd done consciously, though you did understand why he would question such a thing. you weren't entirely sure what it must've looked like, but judging from his reaction, you were likely pouting like a child.

"how long until we have to get married?" you asked, peeling both of your eyes open.

"two days," he responded simply.

looking at the book in his lap, you noticed that he had gotten through a handful of pages. telling time had never been something you were very good at, but you guessed it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes since he had began. that was the beauty of being lost inside your head, you thought. you were free from the confinement of time, as it mattered very little when you had other things popping out of every little nook and cranny your brain had to offer. there was always something new to dissect and pick apart without having to worry about how much time you were wasting. it was nice, especially when wasting your time with him meant he was unable to bother you for very long.

instead of awaiting a response he knew would never come, he simply joked, "why, are you excited?"

"i'm thinking," you said, turning to look up at him.

you weren't sure if you wanted to continue. you weren't sure if you wanted to let him in, to let him know what was on your mind. there was a lot on your mind. the thought of being kept here forever with no one to talk to on a deeper level than the gossip jisung liked to bring to your vanity made you sad, though it wasn't like you were having very deep conversations with the kindergarteners you taught back home. however, the brunette's actions irritated you to no end. you were afraid that letting him in would mean to let go of what he had done, which wasn't something that you were ready to do yet. you weren't sure it would ever be something you were going to do.

the hardest part to grasp was that jisung had been right; as much as you wanted to hate the man for his means of getting you there, you would never be able to hate him for putting clothes on your body and food in your mouth. thinking back to the large breakfast you had woken up to that morning, you frowned. you tried and tried, but you couldn't be upset about that. sighing to yourself, you finally came to terms with the fact that finding comfort in another person wouldn't be so terrible, since you were unable to go anywhere else. it was a given that you would be exceptionally picky with what information you felt he was worthy of having access to, but baby steps wouldn't hurt.

however, you really did like his nervousness, at least in the sense that he knew better than to pry. he waited silently for you to continue, still absentmindedly petting the top of your head. he had been timid about such an action at first, but once he realized you weren't going to bite his hand off, he became more confident about continuing. he had a very soft smile tugging at his plump lips, though you could see the angst hiding in those chocolate brown eyes. it was as if he wasn't sure of what you were going to say, like that scared him.

truthfully, it did. johnny's biggest fear was that you would never get over any kind of resentment toward him you may have. this was a feeling he understood, and he very much understood why you would be feeling this way toward him, but he at least hoped the both of you would be able to find some kind of middle ground. he was just as fond of the arrangement as you were; maybe even more so, since he had grown up watching it play out before his eyes.

his mother never really did overcome her hatred for his father. perhaps this was because times were different when she was younger. she had the pleasure of experiencing life before the war; she knew freedom without having poverty cripple the entirety of her family. even in the midst of the violence and war, she still found a way to be happy without having to rely on money to do so. because of this, being pulled away from her parents crushed her. she wasn't like you; she didn't find comfort in a full belly, nor did she see it as a reason to excuse what had happened to her. she loved her son very much, though she never even made an attempt to hide the fact that she cared for her husband very little. in fact, johnny often suspected that she only agreed to have a child as a form of escapism. he always wondered if that was why she insisted on spending all of her free time with him, even while he was being pestered by countless tutors.

maybe it was selfish to wish for you to get over a traumatic experience in order to be happy with him, but he didn't know any other way of living. what he wanted more than anything was for you to be happy, though he didn't think this was something he would be able to communicate correctly without making a pig of himself. he understood the severity of the culture difference between the both of you and didn't want to come across as arrogant, especially because he knew that he was. he didn't intend to be, but he wasn't naïve.

"i want to hate you so badly," you admitted finally. for once, you locked eyes with him. you wanted him to see you, to know that you weren't exaggerating in order to toy with his nerves. perhaps you didn't know the first thing about talking to boys, but you knew a great deal about communicating your feelings to the emotionally ignorant. you often had conversations of this nature with you brother when he grew old enough, as you found that talking took far less energy than fighting did. the man stopped petting you then, his hand simply resting at the nape of your neck. you rolled your eyes, watching him squirm a little in his seat. "you can keep doing that thing if you want, it doesn't really bother me one way or another. even if it did, i think i could punch you in the face and you probably wouldn't do anything violent to retaliate; i probably would've done that by now."

he wanted to argue, but he knew he couldn't. you were right. even if he hated you with every fiber of his being, he could never bring himself to raise a hand to a woman. just the mere thought of what he had to do to you already made him sick to his stomach. instead, he simply began his hand motions once more.

"i want to hate you so badly," you repeated, huffing a bit. your eyes drifted off, directing your glare at whichever bookshelf you spotted first. "i've been thinking about it a lot and i don't think you have any idea how much it hurts that for the life of me i haven't been able to find a way to make you into more than just a minor annoyance. i'm irritated at the circumstances of our meeting, but the more i think about it, the less i'm able to find you terrible. you should repulse me, but really, what did i have waiting for me back home? loneliness and starvation? i try to remember that i was making something of myself by educating children that weren't able to bathe most days, let alone pick up a book on their own, but it seems a little bittersweet when the skeleton i see in the mirror is all i have to show for it. i want to hate your guts for what you did, but how can i when you've given me everything i never had?"

this time, he pulled away completely. he recognized your hurt, yet he was unsure about what to do in response. he knew that honesty was in order, but these were not the kinds of conversations he was accustomed to. johnny was taught to suppress his feelings as opposed to expressing them, as his father thought that to share one's inner feelings was a very feminine thing to do. even i love you's were assumed and not spoken. an attempt was made in explaining his point of view on your journey to his home, but even then, he had barely scratched the surface of what was buried deep in his heart.

"i'm sorry for that," he began, his features slowly contorting with the first wave of distress that wracked his brain. "i'm not really sure what to say aside from that. i understand that you're upset and i understand why, honestly. i figured you would be, which i guess is why i've been trying to overcompensate with material items. i don't know if that makes me even more of a shitty person, but i figured that the least i can do is make sure you have what you need... i'm not going to sit here and pretend like i'm your savior for doing that, nor am i going to force you to like me. do i want you to? of course i do. i hope we can be friends at the very least, but i'm always going to respect your wants and-"

"don't you have a job to be getting back to?"

you wanted to scream. he was making it so hard by being a decent person, so much that you had half a mind to punch him square in the nose. you knew it was terrible to wish he were a worse person, but it would make your frustration so much more valid. it was very clear that his intention wasn't to confuse you even further, but that was the result regardless. you weren't sure where you stood, only that the ground you wished to be upon was very far out of reach.

he shook his head, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. while he was sure your irritation was very genuine, he was relieved to see that it wasn't likely to grow into something more. the last thing he wanted to do was dig himself a deeper hole to fall into.

"i don't have to do anything; it's more that i choose to get up and go to work everyday. if i really wanted to, i could easily appoint someone to take on my workload without losing any personal profit," he explained, closing the book in his lap and placing it on the coffee table. not only did he want to cut your date short before your annoyance really began to blossom, he could see how tired you'd become. keeping this in mind, he was slow to stand up and extend a hand toward you. there was a fleeting look of hesitance that washed over the irises of your eyes, but you took it nonetheless. while helping you to your feet, he continued. "i like my job--the techy stuff, anyway. having to be the bad guy all the time is honestly really stressful, but i guess that's just part of the package, right?"

though it felt like the question was directed more toward himself than anything, you took it upon yourself to answer anyway. your hand still resting in his, you allowed him to guide you back to the elevator.

"not necessarily," you responded, watching as he swiped his keycard once more. following him into the elevator, you took a few seconds to piece together the rest of your thoughts. it wasn't very easy given how little you knew about what it was he did at work, but you felt that his mindset was very flawed regardless of his job title. "if you're really as in charge as you claim to be, i don't understand why it has to be so terrible for the people that work for you, if that's what you're trying to say."

"you don't get it," he muttered softly.

he used his index finger to press another one of the shiny metal buttons on the panel before him. while doing so, he did his best to avoid your gaze. he didn't even want to think about how he must've sounded complaining about such problems, as they seemed so silly in retrospect. he felt so guilty complaining about the way he happened to make his money knowing you came from the situation you did. in a way, he felt like he had slapped you across the face, though he would never even dream of doing such a thing.

"no, i don't," you quipped. your voice was very level, yet you couldn't help but let go of his hand. it seemed like he wasn't really in the mood to hold yours any more than you were his. "i don't know anything about science, or engineering, or even how to count without using my fingers, but i know what it's like to be poor. my father worked for someone like you. one days worth of your earnings could probably feed a family like mine for at least a week, but instead big companies throw pennies at their workers and demand that we make it stretch far enough. maybe other decisions wouldn't feel so weighted if you knew your employees were going home to more than scraps from the garbage, but you're choosing not to find that out."

johnny remained silent. there was nothing he could say to refute your argument; you were right. this was an issue that was far easier to avoid before your arrival, especially now that you were choosing to voice your concerns. the money his business produced made it very easy to ignore the conditions certain staff members were likely living in. in all honesty, he'd never even given it much thought. his father had always preached that they were not responsible for anything that went on outside of the workplace, though he was neglecting to take into account that the things they provided during work hours directly contributed to everything that took place before and after. he felt ashamed now, having this thrown back in his face.

"you're right. i'm sorry."

the elevator opened up after what felt like forever, much to your relief. after taking two steps forward, it felt like the man had wrapped his hands around both of your ankles and dragged you back ten. you were well aware that the difference in upbringings might make conversation a bit difficult at times, but you weren't expecting him to be so ignorant to the state of the world beyond the little bubble he existed in. all it served to do was dull what little sparkle had managed to find you today.

"i think i remember how to get back to my room from here," you promptly informed him.

"you're sure?" he asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

you didn't know if there was really anything left to say. you were far too exhausted to entertain him any longer; all you wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep until you no longer felt the tiny pinprick of sadness in your chest.

perhaps tomorrow he would manage to redeem himself, you told yourself. after all, he'd already made it very clear that he had more than enough money to do so.

author’s note: i’m so sorry this took so long ): i’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately, but i’m going to do my best to be more consistent with my uploads. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist (:

#johnny has so much character growth in his future #hydrangea ;#johnny seo #nct johnny #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #johnny scenarios #nct angst #nct series #nct stories #Park Jisung #nct jisung #nct au #ceo au

60 notes · View notes

maruzzewrites · 3 years

Note

For your yandere prompts, can I have 5 and Giorno please?

5. “This world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.”

Content warnings: yandere content, implied obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, controlling behavior, threats and Mafia stuff.

There was a time, at the start of your relationship, that Giorno’s finger curling your hair would bring you joy, then shivers. It was a slow, deliberate, languid motion; the strands that caught between his fingers, around each phalange, lighting up your nerves.

You understood, after a while, that he did this when you were angry, when you were trying to talk about something important, when you were talking about someone else. The pleasant sensation would make your brain pause in its track, shutter to a sudden stop, just to enjoy the goodness it brought you. The affection you craved, rarely got – and that was when it clicked into place.

Giorno, for a plethora of reasons, was hardly able to give too much love. At least physically, he was stiff, and only with the threat of separating he would show what he felt. Always, always, with a twirl of your hair. With that first clue, you noticed more: how he wouldn’t kiss you in public, but ask you to stay close and not talk to others; how he didn’t wear most things you picked for him, but wanted both of your locations shared at all times; how you couldn’t do anything, not if it wasn’t with him – but his possession stopped with demands, never with concessions.

When you first understood this, you were somewhat sympathetic. He was head of an empire, a criminal one, and showing any sort of weakness would be potentially lethal for him, for you, for all his companions. That was, eventually, the next step into your relationship’s collapse. You finally considered the nature of your romance with a man so dangerous, so influential, so divine in his power, that he could order your death for the smallest of slights.

It was frightening, but Giorno had always been nothing but kind to you – despite the tendency to be so reserved. After the initial shock, you attempted to test the waters with opening communications, and that failed. Then you attempted to be more direct, coming out empty handed once again. After weeks of efforts, as veiled or as blunt as possible, you couldn’t bear the thought anymore.

You informed Giorno that your relationship was over, and he had your hair between his fingers. This time around, it was his plan to stop working, no matter how you kept your head low. You didn’t concede when he asked, smooth as silk, if you wanted to talk further before such a decision. Such a life-changing choice.

You confirmed your intentions, and his fingers combed through your hair for the first time. Delicately, at first, when he still thought he could have the possibility to convince your otherwise. A bit more forceful after a moment, until he sighed lightly and left you alone. Stepped back, and looked down at your face; he looked melancholic, a bit lost, but his green eyes didn’t lose their shine.

He bid his farewell and hoped you would be happy, but asked to give you one last gift in the form of a house. If anything, he explained, he felt the duty to provide you with a future abode since you lived with him for so long, gave up your job long ago. Despite you having savings that you never touched because of Giorno’s generosity during your relationship, you admitted to yourself the need for a new house, and accepted after some resistance.

You started your new life as soon as all your things where out of your shared home, and you chose a modest apartment in a quiet part of the city as your starting point. You didn’t want any type of huge debt with Giorno or his organization, and nothing came after you transferred – even days, weeks, after your departure.

Adjusting to life after the breakup wasn’t as easy as you imagined, with the doubts about being able to do things you couldn’t before: going out with friends or people in general, talking freely at the phone, dressing down when going for a simple errand. It felt alien, but welcome with each passing day.

Somehow, Giorno’s memory took a bitter taste after your separation and he wasn’t as angelic as you remembered him; with time, his smile became a bit more crooked, his eyes more dull, his composure more rigid. Like a master more than a lover, no matter how gentle he would treat you.

Yet, you couldn’t help appreciating the fact he respected your decision. The most powerful criminal in Italy, and he was letting you go as if it was nothing, as if it was normal – and you didn’t really wrap your head around how vile that perception was. Despite all the grime on his image, in your mind, his gold was still shining like the sun, distracting you from the filth.

Distracting you from danger, too. It was only after two months that you started to notice someone following you around. You feared it would be someone hired by Giorno. Your answer would come a week into your discovery, when a man cornered you in an alley as you were returning home. He asked you about your life, about your love life, about Giorno himself; his veiled threats about how he needed to know where the big man was, and maybe you could be the key to open the gate.

You knew Giorno had enemies, people who wanted him dead, but you failed to consider how you were easily a target to him because of your bond. You shuttered how you were separated, how he did have nothing to do with you anymore, but the man was only angered. You managed to run away, somehow, and lock yourself into your apartment.

Breath caught in your throat, eyes watering. Your thumb hovering over the keys of your phone, Giorno’s number on the screen. You shook your head, and opted to avoid his involvement. You would try to handle it as well as you could, with help from authorities.

However, the police wouldn’t do anything. The simple recruits could only sigh and shrug, offering their condolences, while the higher-ups were on the verge of laughing in your face – their smug grins were enough mockery, though. You found yourself with daily threats on your doorstep, urging you to help this mysterious organization reach their goal and that no harm would be done to you if you collaborated.

At some point, your mind broke. You were on the phone, listening to it ring. Giorno answered with his name, and asked who it was. It felt like a thorn in your heart, but you ignored it. You started to sob your request for help, which turned into a wail. Giorno was silent, listening.

“Do you want me to send someone?” His voice was so placid, so warm, a calm river flowing while a storm was raging elsewhere. You could hear fondness in his tone, almost a restrain in letting it spill; and you hoped he was still feeling the same sense of relief you were, now that you felt like he was there with you.

“Can I come there?” You asked. There was a pause, and you feared his rejection. Maybe he found someone else, maybe he was ready to move on while you were ready to sink. A sigh carrying your name was heard, and you felt more tears falling, more whimpers coming out of your mouth.

You feared you would be alone in this. You would have to face the terror, the dread, all on your own while Giorno would swallow the grief and go on. You felt your muscles tremble, you felt your skin not fit you, and your breath didn’t belong to you anymore.

“Darling,” his voice came like a promise from heaven. You waited for something, anything, and another sigh ringed in your ears, “I’m sorry I left you to your devices. This world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.”

You shivered, but it felt better this time. Like you could actually sense every nerve, not as if you were experiencing something other than yourself. You asked, tentative, if you could come, again. His consent felt like water after the desert, and you listened carefully to his instructions about how to return. You thanked him and waited for him to hung up.

Once he was sure you weren’t listening anymore, he smiled as usual. He dialed another number, the man on the other end asking what he wanted. Giorno wasn’t in the mood for getting angry at some lowly thug, “You can stop bothering her. I will send your payment in your mail.”

He didn’t leave the man time to answer, and his phone was out of his hands immediately. He called for one of the maids, requested that they dusted the portion of wardrobe you left empty months prior and redecorate the bathroom with your favorite items again, those he stored in wait.

All he had to do, now, was arrange the return.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #hello i'm here with new content have fun lovelies!#Anonymous

98 notes · View notes

rolandtowen · 3 years

Text

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

20 notes · View notes

mingkily · 3 years

Text

｡☆✼★━ ‘bring your mingi to work’ day | s.mg ━★✼☆｡

navigation

starring: mingi x reader

fsk-6: fluff & slight angst | language

volume: 4.4k words

vip access: @midnightseonghwa !

additional: schultüte - when children in germany [...] set off for their first day of school upon entering first grade, their parents and/or grandparents present them with this large cone, attractively decorated and filled with toys, chocolate, candies/sweets, school supplies, and various other special treats. the cone is given to children to make this anxiously awaited first day of school a little sweeter.

“there’s ‘bring your kids to work’ day, right?”

“yeah?”

“how about ‘bring your boyfriend to work’ day?”

“love?”

you were currently planning the next day’s lesson, trying to focus, but your attention went to your boyfriend immediately after you heard him speak up, and by the tone in his voice you soon were certain that you should have ignored him, for your own good.

“there’s ‘bring your kids to work’ day, right?”, mingi continued, leaving you completely confused about what he was trying to get at with that question - yes, there was, but you didn’t have any kids, so why did he ask?

“yeah?”, your voice giving away how cautious you were, eyeing him curiously but suspiciously.

“how about”, and by now you knew for sure that whatever he was about to suggest would not be something you liked, “‘bring your boyfriend to work’ day?”

your suspicions had been right, you knew as soon as he finished his question, but when you looked at him and saw his big, pleading eyes you also knew he’d get you to do as he pleased in the end, anyway. so you might as well save yourself the trouble, which was the sole reason why you agreed as quickly as you did.

“but”, you interrupted his joyful cheering, “i have to ask first. especially with the kids, you know i can’t just bring you along when i feel like it. i have to make sure it’s okay with the schedule.”

that was fine with him, it did not at all detract from his excitement, and you were glad you’d agreed because the look on his face was one of happiness in its purest form. he seemed so enraptured by the idea that he settled on your lap without giving you even a second of preparation time and started reading your notes, as if tomorrow’s schedule would be of any relevance to him at all.

“i’ll ask tomorrow, okay? but you have to behave, angel. and let me work”, a hint at how he was currently effectively keeping from finishing your lesson plan, but then again he was acting so cute that you didn’t have it in you to kick him off your lap.

“i hope they’ll let me”, he near whined, way too adorable if you considered the fact that he was almost an entire head taller than you, and it caused you to give his shoulder a small kiss.

“you’re basically a primary schooler, too. i’m sure they will”, voice teasing but so full of love that mingi decided to let it slip just this one time. instead he turned his head to steal a real kiss to his mouth instead of his undeserving shoulder, smiling when you immediately complied with his wish.

“now go to bed already or something, okay? i’ll join when i’m done.”

though he was a little reluctant, enjoying being on your lap and the warmth of your body way too much, your boyfriend got up and settled on the bed, just watching you as you did your work, trying his very hardest to not fall asleep, but that was a fight he could not win.

he woke up again when you joined him in bed, wrapping yourself around him as if he was a giant teddy bear, nuzzling your face in his neck and tickling him slightly with your nose.

“did i wake you up? sorry”, nuzzling closer to him as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible so you wouldn’t be able to escape his loving hold, so you wouldn’t neglect your boyfriend who was so desperately in need of affection in favour of your work again.

he mumbled something in reply that with a lot of effort and imagination could be interpreted as “it’s okay”, and then something that, with equal amounts of effort and imagination, could maybe have been a “let’s just sleep”, which was exactly what you were going to do now that you were all cosy and cuddled up in your big soft baby.

if you’d thought mingi would have forgotten about his request of joining you at work by the time he woke up the next morning, you were mistaken and, in all honesty, you should have known better than that. it was the first thing he hummed into your ear after a tired “good morning”, his deep voice reminding you of the promise you’d made the day before.

“you’ll ask today, right? don’t forget.”

and if his slightly whiny voice as he told you not to forget about it wasn’t enough to convince you the way his hold around you tightened when you hummed in affirmation most definitely did the rest.

“you’re the best”, only refraining from yelling excitedly because it was so incredibly early and he didn’t want to be a person just yet.

but he surprised you when he was actually the one to get up first, rolling over so now it was him on top of you, hovering there for a second before he pressed a quick kiss to your lips and got up, dragging himself to the kitchen to do something that, at this point in time, was still a mystery to you. about as much of a mystery as him voluntarily getting up early - usually he first joined you when breakfast was done, whining and complaining about the fact that you had to go to work so early, more than once saying “i bet the kids would be happy if school started later, too”, which convinced you but would do little to convince the people actually in charge.

“someone’s excited”, you mumbled against his shoulder once you’d joined him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and watching him make a few sandwiches.

“someone just loves you”, he informed you, but then, as he felt you chuckle against him, he added: “and maybe someone’s a little bit excited, too.”

“that’s cute”, rocking from side to side slightly, and mingi joined your movements even though it made his sandwich chef tasks a little harder. he just wasn’t able to resist you, not now and not ever.

“get ready, i’m making breakfast”, he then told you, which you did even though you really didn’t want to let go of him just yet. but sadly your job proved to be more important once more, because while cuddling up to your boyfriend made you much happier than having to get ready for work it wouldn’t pay the bills.

so you got dressed, as much as you wanted to keep wearing the oversized shirt that had once been mingi’s but had at some point during your relationship made its way into the part of the closet where you kept your pyjamas, and even though it had been one of his favourites he’d never been able to ask you to return it. you looked really cute in it, anyway, so at least he could still admire the shirt, even if not on himself.

back in the kitchen you saw that he had not only made breakfast but also prepared food for you to take to school with you, and a smile made its way onto your face before you even noticed it.

“you really want to join me, hm?”, you asked him and he nodded, sending a somewhat sheepish grin your way.

“yeah. i think it’d be cute. seeing you with the kids, i mean. and i’m curious about how you manage to build a whole lesson with those lousy notes you always write.”

“they’re not lousy!”, you protested, “you just don’t know anything.”

“i know that i love you”, a reply so sweet that any little bit of annoyance you’d felt at him insulting your notes vanished as soon as he said it. he had way too much power over your poor heart. and that was why you had to make one thing clear about this whole ‘take your boyfriend to work’ day.

“you know i won’t be able to give in to you all the time when you join me though, right? i’ll have to boss you around a little bit or the kids will think they can do whatever they want, too.”

you sounded a bit sorry about that - you were a bit sorry about that, too -, but he just grinned at you, a shit-eating, annoying grin that had you want to smack his arm even before he spoke.

“that’s kinda hot.”

there it was, the slap to his arm that he had coming, in all honesty. and there it was, the loud yelp that you had coming, in all honesty.

“what was that for!”, as if the reason wasn’t completely obvious.

“deserved”, was all you replied before snatching one of the sandwiches he had prepared, munching happily as he rubbed his arm for a second or two before joining you and taking a sandwich for himself.

“i really hope i can join”, he spoke up after a few minutes of the two of you eating in silence, seriously this time, “i always miss you so much when i have to wait for you to get home.”

“you could use that to write sad, longing songs about your love being out of reach”, you teased, to which he countered: “already do.”

“i miss you too”, you then genuinely replied, reaching across the table to pat his sandwich-less hand, “and i’ll miss you again when i have to leave soon.”

“take the day off?”, a suggestion both of you knew was impossible, which you told him with a small, sad smile.

“but at least if i go i can ask if i can bring you.”

this consoled him at least a little, and when you did have to leave roughly thirty minutes after he was back to his usual, cheery self.

“see you this afternoon!”, he chirped, a quick kiss to your cheek and then, as if he’d changed his mind, a longer, sweet kiss to your lips.

“see you”, a wide smile on your face as you left for work with the little lunch box he’d packed you, the only thing on your mind being that if giving in to him made him such an energetic person even in the mornings, made him make you lunch, even, then you’d have to do it a little more often.

though that morning’s cheerfulness was nothing compared to the joy he felt and expressed when you told him that he could join you just three days later, when half of the day would be spent on various projects and the principal, upon your request, had said that it might be good to have one more person to supervise the children because experience had taught that during that day it would be incredibly hard to keep an eye on everyone, and the more eyes, the better.

but mingi proved to be more of a big child himself, incredibly excited and asking for a schultüte - which you had to improvise since it was very much not the time where anyone would sell schultüten - and he’d apparently even used his alone time to get himself dinosaur-patterned socks and matching boxers, which he presented to you proudly, and even though he was standing there near-naked you couldn’t help but laugh and coo at how cute he was. he’d acquired a matching dinosaur-shaped lunchbox, too, which he insisted you had to fill with the tastiest snacks for him because it was his first day at school.

“you’re so adorable”, you told him when he asked you to pick his outfit on the big day, doing so quickly and leaving for the kitchen while he got dressed so you could finish his special school lunch in time.

adorable would be a heavy understatement to describe the way he looked once you left, schultüte in hand - though you had him promise you to leave it in the car because he’d be the only one having one and you didn’t want to cause a riot among the kids - and his usually so dishevelled hair combed neatly, those big round glasses that always had you want to kiss him were on his nose, and you wondered how a man this tall could look so absolutely tiny. his eyes were sparkling, too, and if you didn’t know for a fact that this man was about three months older than you you’d have thought he was a first grader that, for some reason, was already done growing.

“you act like you’ve never gone to school before”, you teased him lovingly while parking the car, to which he countered: “i’ve never gone to school with you before.”

“now you have”, smiling at him as you left the car, and you were glad to see that he had left the schultüte in the car when he got out, too, handing you your bag instead.

he continued being helpful, opening every single door for you because apparently you were unable to do that by yourself, an incredibly wide and happy smile on his face as he did so, and it wouldn't have surprised you if he'd physically burst with excitement once you told him you'd reached your class.

all the little second graders looked incredibly confused when there was not one but two adults opening the door - or rather, mingi watching you in amazement as you unlocked the classroom door as if he'd never seen someone use a key before -, but that confusion quickly faded when you told them that this was mister song and that he'd support you today, so they had to be nice to him, too. there seemed to be something else on the kids' minds about him, though, that they wished to get an answer to before class started.

"i didn't know people could be that tall", one of your second graders told him with wonder in his voice as he looked up to your giant of a boyfriend.

"and he keeps growing, too", you told the little boy conspicuously as you eyed mingi, who informed him with a smile on his face: "that happens if you always eat all your veggies", and that little interaction alone told you that you wouldn't have to regret bringing him to work with you - he was good with kids.

"he always eats mine, too, that's why he's so much taller", you made an excuse for your lack of height because the kids might think you avoided your veggies on purpose otherwise and you had to be a good role model.

your boyfriend proved to be better with the kids than with you, because while they absolutely adored him his need to be useful became a little embarrassing by the point he insisted to wipe the blackboard for you whenever it needed to be wiped because “you’re too short, let the big boy do that”, but he was so endearing that you left it at just rolling your eyes at him.

still, you were glad when you could give the kids some exercises to do by themselves, glad to have a little time to pay attention to your boyfriend exclusively, to ask him how he liked it so far.

“you like the kids?”, you inquired, holding his hand underneath the table to give him at least a little affection, because you felt like it’d be a little unfair to bring him to work with you only to ignore him even when you did have the chance to at least hold his hand.

“they’re so cute, i want seven!”, he told you and sounded entirely serious about it, which again had you roll your eyes.

“we can start with one somewhen. but first we have to check how it’s going with their exercises, want to help?”

mingi did want to help, getting up with you but refusing to let go of your hand, moving from table to table to check your second graders’ addition and subtraction exercises.

“can you do maths too?”, a little girl asked him when he told her that one of her answers was wrong, seemingly new to the idea that people that were not teachers could also do maths.

“i can”, he said proudly, doing some more simple maths with her and you decided that he could help her while you continued checking the other kids’ results.

what you had not expected, however, was that soon not only she but half your class was listening eagerly as your boyfriend went from addition to multiplication and ended up with square roots and more, at which point you decided that you should maybe step in before he completely fried their little brains with maths that was way above their current level.

“mingi?”, you interrupted him boasting his maths abilities, and the kids that had spent more time with you as a teacher rather than a girlfriend were able to tell you were going to scold him, being able to recognise the tone you used, which stayed hidden to your boyfriend because you never used a scolding tone on him.

“yes?”, he asked, and when you motioned for him to come over he did, looking at you questioningly but with a massive smile on his face.

“angel, you can’t talk to these second-graders about root division. they barely even know about regular division, you’re going to confuse them. please stop that, okay?”

you tried to not sound too harsh, because you knew he didn’t actually know anything about teaching, but this was something you’d have to bring up before he’d actually fry their little primary schooler brains.

“i’m sorry”, he said, looking like a scolded puppy and his adorable back-to-school attire did little to help your desire to pinch his cheeks and coo at him, “i didn’t think about that. they just seemed so impressed and i wanted to be smart enough to impress someone for once. i know i can’t impress you, you’re smarter than me.”

“you do impress me, angel. every single day. but you still can’t keep telling those second graders about faculties, okay?”

“okay”, and now he didn’t look like a scolded puppy anymore, giving you a small smile to show that he understood, but he still looked so adorable that you couldn’t help yourself, you stood on your tippy toes and pulled him down a little to kiss him, a small appreciative kiss.

while it wasn’t even a long kiss it was followed by a cacophony of “eww!”s by your second graders, and as if that wasn’t embarrassing enough mingi joined in, “eww!”ing you with a large, shit-eating grin, but you weren’t having this teasing.

“okay, sorry, no more kisses for today!”, you apologised with your hands up in a defensive motion, which in return made your boyfriend look at you with wide, surprised eyes, and as if he wasn’t able to believe you he leaned in again, trying to steal another kiss, but you just turned away and repeated: “no more kisses for today!”

which you managed to keep up until it was time to start the projects, moving over to the atrium where tables were assembled with various project options to choose from. the kids ran around, excited to get out of having to study, and you finally had time to pay attention to your neglected boyfriend again after you’d assigned everyone a project.

“you’re still sad?”, you asked him when you saw him pouting on the stairs, sitting down next to him and grabbing one of his hands to play with his fingers, hoping this would console him at least a little.

“mhm”, resting his head on your shoulder, his eyes focused on where your small hands were playing with his big one, enjoying the affection he got now.

“you kind of made me sad too, you know?”, you admitted now that the kids were busy and you had a little time to talk about it; you knew he hadn’t meant anything bad with it, but it had hurt you that he’d acted as if getting kissed by you was gross when you’d been nervous about doing it, nervous about showing your entire class - that you knew without a doubt was watching the two of you - that you weren’t just a teacher but also a woman with a boyfriend. that you also had a private life, and that he was part of it. you knew that by kissing him you were setting yourself up for teasing, and you knew that his reaction would only make it worse, your embarrassed brain already coming up with options such as “not even your boyfriend wants to kiss you!” and similar things. and it just hurt in general that he’d made you feel like he’d rather you hadn’t kissed him.

“i did?”, surprised, and he lifted his head to be able to look at you while you spoke - something he should’ve maybe done a little sooner, pay attention to your expression, because now he saw the sad little smile on your face.

“yeah. i know it’s stupid, but i… kind of felt like you’d rather i only kiss you when we’re alone. like you thought it’s embarrassing.”

your eyes were still trained on his fingers, bending them back and forth and trying to ignore the silly hurt you felt.

“shit, i- i’m sorry, love, i just wanted to joke with the kids a little. i didn’t think about how it’d make you feel. i’m sorry.”

he took the hand you were playing with and wrapped that arm around your shoulder, offering you his other hand as he pulled you closer against him.

“it’s okay”, you tried to reassure, “i know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“i made you sad”, he retorted.

then, anxiously: “do you still want to kiss me? i get it if you don’t.”

“why don’t you find out?”

it sounded like you were trying to tease him, but mingi knew you well enough to be able to guess that you just didn’t want to make the first move only to have him react badly again, so he took matters into his own hands - matters being your face, which he turned towards his own before giving you a quick kiss.

“i love you”, he mumbled before giving you another kiss, and when he pulled away he saw a girl whose grade he was not at all able to estimate looking at the two of you with the typical expression kids had when adults dared to be in love, but before she was able to comment he said: “don’t try, you’re just jealous because i have such a pretty girlfriend.”

“she is really pretty”, the girl you knew to be a third grader agreed, and then she informed him: “you’re pretty, too.”

“what’s up?”, you interrupted before you’d get incredibly flustered by this little girl complimenting the two of you, and it seemed like she first now remembered that she’d had a question to start with.

“oh! we need some help with our project”, and off she went, you rolling your eyes at mingi before you got up with him and followed her.

the needed help was using a knife to cut some fabric to decorate their sock puppets with, a task the children knew was an adult task, so that was why they’d come to get you. and since there were two of you it quickly turned into a sock puppet competition, each of you collecting a little fan club that insisted that the sock puppets mingi helped them with were much better, and the same went for your little fan club insisting that mingi’s could never be as pretty as yours. the competition was fierce, but what the kids did not seem to have considered was that the two adults were not at all actually competitive, especially your sweet giant who still wanted to make up for having hurt you, so he made his sock puppet - the children had insisted the two of you made sock puppets, too - kiss yours before proudly declaring: “they’re in love”, and he whispered the same into your ear when he leaned in to kiss you, “we’re in love”.

“sillyhead”, but it was said with the utmost affection, because he was your sillyhead and you loved him so much you could hardly believe that it was physically possible sometimes.

your boyfriend continued to show everyone that he absolutely adored you the rest of the day, having a little drawing competition with two fourth graders and his drawing was you and him and a little dog, which he claimed had to win because the model was more beautiful than anything else in the world, and one of the fourth graders, a girl you’d only had in substitute classes a couple times, told you that when she was big she wanted to have a boyfriend that loved her just as much as mingi loved you, something that left you quite touched and earned him a kiss that you wished could have been longer, but you were aware of the children watching the two of you, so you decided to keep it kid-friendly.

you continued to be proud of the way he was interacting with the kids, too, because even though he completely lacked any of your pedagogics studies he managed to be a help to you simply because he listened to you and seemed incredibly good with kids, them surprising you with how willingly they listened to him.

“thank you, angel”, you told him when you were in your car once the school day was over, smiling at him and placing your hand on top of his on the gear shift.

“thank you for bringing me along”, he replied, smiling at the street because he wasn’t about to risk a car crash to look at you, no matter how tempting it was.

“how could i not when it makes you so happy?”

mingi just hummed in reply, a small smile on his face the rest of the way and when you were home, too, continuously reminding you what a great teacher you were and how much the kids seemed to love you and how much he’d enjoyed getting to spend the day with you.

“i still want seven”, he told you while you were cuddling later that night, and he wasn’t the only one that had fallen in love, your second graders asking you first thing the next morning where mister song was. by the look of disappointment on their faces when you told them he had to do his own work again you figured that maybe you’d have to talk to the principal and make ‘bring mingi to work’ day a semi-regular thing.

not that mingi would mind, though, you knew that much.

87 notes · View notes

anonthenullifier · 3 years

Note

How would Wanda and Vision (and Billy) react to Tommy being taken by that mutant experimentation facility that wanted to turn him into a weapon?

When I saw this, the entire story immediately formed in my head and I had to write it. Thank you for the ask, I had a lot of fun doing it! I hope you enjoy :D.

Warning: story has some strong language

------

It took an enormous amount of convincing for them (Vision in particular) to agree to leave the boys alone for the weekend. There were many hours of whining and conversations about how they are sixteen now and how they need to be treated as adults. Surprisingly, it was Tommy who flipped the narrative by presenting them thoroughly researched details of their current private island get-away. In the back of his mind, Vision knows he should be more than just mildly worried about what antics they are getting up to and if they are remembering to eat and sleep, except that would mean ignoring the murmur of the ocean and the wistful smirk on his wife’s face and the way her curls sway in the salty breeze and the adorable wrinkles that have formed by her closing her eyes to fully enjoy the soft caress of their freedom. Though he can efficiently consider all of this at once, he would rather take Wanda’s near constant advice to live in the moment. So he does, scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Would you care for more sangria?”

Wanda pops open her left eye to look at him. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you deliver it in your speedo.”

Vision contemplates the request, not in a serious manner, but in a theatrical show of potential uncertainty despite both of them being aware there is no physical way for him to resist the insatiability sending scarlet flares across her iris. “At the Maximoff resort,” her eyebrows perk up at the lathering of poshness and the implication of the direction of their evening, “we do pride ourselves on catering,” a shrug of his shoulders dissolves his prior floral shirt and Bermuda shorts into the little teal number from their honeymoon so many years ago, “to our guest’s every need.”

“That’s good because I,” before he can grab her glass, Wanda fishes out one of the inebriated peaches, sliding it into her mouth with a saucy wink, “have lots of needs.”

“I will return momen-” the thought hangs limply in the air as he watches Wanda freeze, her back straightening out and hands gripping the armrest of her beach chair as her lust cracks and gives way to a distant stare. Whatever she sees is not on this beach, may not even be in this universe. “Wanda?” Each passing moment crawls up Vision’s spine, prickling his skin and sending his mind into a whirlwind of unease at his ignorance of the issue. After what feels like five minutes but is actually ten seconds, Vision kneels in the sand beside her chair, haltingly bringing his hand to hers, “Wanda what is it?”

“Tommy.”

All joy leeches immediately from his mind, replaced only by a frigid shroud of concern. “What’s wrong?”

To the untrained ear, the whirring and sputter to Vision’s left would be no different from the tropical breeze dancing around them, but Vision’s auditory system is functioning perfectly so he turns expectedly towards the blue portal of their son. “Mom,” Billy rushes through and the fact he’s barefooted and wearing sweatpants with a pajama shirt only unsettles Vision further, “Dad. They took Tommy.”

Wanda’s head snaps to the side to stare in the general direction of their son, her eyes still miles away despite her voice trembling with rage in the present, “Who?”

“I don’t, I don’t know.” Nervously he brushes a hand through his hair, “He went out for a run and then I felt,” Billy’s eyes are wild, tinged with blue, much like Wanda’s own get when she struggles with overwhelming emotions, “we were connected, you know, like you say we should be and-”

Vision has known anger in his own life, whether it is in the way he never hesitates to decimate those who harm Wanda, or in the calculated attacks of logic he uses on politicians and other officials who are being discriminatory and lecherous, or even in the calm, but firm words he uses to discipline the boys, but this feeling now, this dropping of his stomach and the roiling, severe heat that flows through his synthetic veins and the complete and utter single ideation of causing pain to whomever did this...this is new. “Can you track him still?”

Pinched eyes, a shaky nod, and a prismatic cloud confirms the question. Not wanting to pressure their son more than he, no doubt, is already doing to himself, Vision directs his attention to Wanda, recognizing the same fury in the serious scowl on her face and he does a less than admirable job of remaining calm when he assures her, “We will get him back.”

“I think…” Billy’s neck cranes to the right as if he’s trying to peer around a corner, “I found him.”

The strain in his voice kick starts Wanda out of her seething and into action, “Let me help.” Scarlet twines its way through Billy’s electric blue seeing glass, seeming to clarify the situation even if Vision stands helplessly blind next to them. “Vizh,” he snaps to attention, taking in every piece of information and constructing a mental diagram of the situation, “there’re six armed guards,” Vision’s fingers curl into a tight fist at the number, “two holding him, two flanking those, and two in the back near the door.” The people are added to his schematic. “It’s a small room.”

“Looks like an operating room.”

Billy’s addition is helpful and causes Vision’s body to become denser, his feet burying in the sand as his mind churns through the tactical options instead of getting mired in what might befall Tommy if they do not hurry. “Billy, you are going to portal us there. Let your mother and I eradicate the targets.”

Only the surprised warning in Wanda’s, “Vision” alerts him to his harsh vocabulary.

“I mean we will subdue and neutralize the targets.”

Billy doesn’t care about the terminology, still focused on his connection to his twin. “What should I do?”

It is tempting to tell him to remain here, safe on the beach, but if all Vision feels is a need for retribution, he imagines Billy’s own feelings are similar and being sidelined will only increase his worry. “You get your brother.” With a hand on each of their shoulders, Vision draws them in for a pre-fight huddle. “The most important thing is to get Tommy back safely.” Synchronized nods confirm the obvious goal. “The second most important outcome is that we make these individuals rue the day they decided to target the Maximoff family.” Battle ready smiles meet his words, all of them ready to tear the world apart if that’s what it comes down to. “Let’s get your brother.”

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

Tommy is pissed. For one thing, mom and dad are never going to trust them alone again and that’s utter crap because it’s not his fault some shady ass organization was apparently creeping on him and waiting for him to be alone. He was even following dad’s stupid running route of highest visibility to cars and he was wearing the even more idiotic reflective vest because he was damned if he ruined their earned freedom. It is going to be so vindicating to inform dad that the vest gave his position away.

Another point of annoyance is that these assholes used some sort of electrified net to catch him and it hurt like hell and they somehow have restraints that can withstand his powers. This was clearly well planned and that is a little flattering but mainly it’s infuriating. “Do you assholes know who I am?” Of course they do, but clearly they haven’t much thought through what kidnapping him would mean for their own well-being.

The guard to his right doesn’t directly acknowledge the comment, instead asking her superior, “Can we please gag him?”

Good, he’s glad his charming banter is annoying them. “You all are so fucked once they get here.”

The superior also pretends like he’s not talking. “Get him on the table and sedate him.” Great. “He won’t remember anything once we’re done.” Not ominous at all.

“Do you have to get training for how to be a villain?” He’d really, desperately like to speed away now, but not even vibrating his molecules is working on these shackles, so he needs to take the Stark approved quippy distraction strategy. “Because the delivery of the threat was a bit halfhearted. I’m not even scared.” A lie but they don’t know that (hopefully).

The two guards gripping his arms drag him to the middle of the room where there’s the stereotypical solitary operating table with leather straps and a blinding fluorescent light above it (does someone make their living doing interior decorating for bad guys? If they do, they suck at it because this is drab and uninspired). Tommy resists as best he can, flopping his body in the opposite direction of their tugging all while sending out a mental SOS. Truthfully he doesn’t really understand Billy or mom’s telepathy, he just knows one of them always shows up eventually when he thinks about wanting company. And he really wants them here right now.

A taser is rammed into his back and he crumples forward with an irate, “Assholes.”

Almost giddily they strap him onto the table, the leader grinning down at him through the military grade face shield. “Halfhearted or not, you’re ours now.”

“What does that even mean?” The man moves away without even the decency to shrug, radioing to someone that the subject is subdued and ready for the procedure which Tommy is most certainly not ready for whatever they plan to do and so he squeezes his eyes shut and sends out a very, he thinks, clear cry for help.

When he receives an answer in the form of a thought dropped deep into his brain, one that says We’re almost there , Tommy knows he should play it cool, bemoan the fate he is about to befall and rub the egos of the sadistic bastards around him, but he can’t help himself, turning to the guard tightening the strap across his chest, “You are fucked.” He turns his head towards the other guard, “You’re fucked too.” And then he just channels Oprah herself and spreads it to everyone. “And you’re fucked, and you’re fucked, and you’re fucked.” A shimmering portal opens up on the far wall right next to one of the door guards, to whom he shouts, “And you are most definitely fucked.” Before the promise is fully out the guard is pulled through the portal with a strangled scream, the wall closing up milliseconds before the others in the room turn towards the noise.

Mr. You’re Ours Now glares at Tommy and then instructs the rest of the room. “Orders are shoot to kill, do you copy?”

“Affirmative,” answers the guard next to him.

That’s how this is going to go? Well then a very sarcastic, “Good luck” to them.

Luck is not on their side because another portal opens and the second door guard is pulled through, dad phasing through the man’s body and solidifying just in time to punch another guard so hard it shatters their visor. Shit.

The room erupts in chaos, a scarlet mist descending around them, the guards try to shoot but their guns are ripped out of their hands. And then there’s dad’s vibranium gleaming as he phases in and out of mom’s carefully crafted cover, the frantic and pained screams of the guards echoing as they fall, and this, this is how you do drama because if Tommy wasn’t the one being rescued, he’d be praying to whatever god might take mercy on his soul. “You okay?” Billy’s voice cracks with concern which is just really sweet.

“Took you long enough.”

And the concern is gone, “I was doing the responsible thing and getting backup.”

He should be gracious right now because he is actually thankful but, “I don’t think you can call it backup when they’re the ones doing all the work.”

There’s the steely gaze Billy’s perfected, “Do you want to be rescued or not?”

“Thomas,” dad hovers beside him now, the transformation of his terrifying rage into fatherly concern contorting his features into a mildly upsetting scowl. “Are you injured?”

It’s not often he’s the absolute center of attention and if he were to lay it on a bit thick it would be wholly understandable because he was the one who was rudely kidnapped, but he also has never seen his family this worried before so he defers to downplaying the experience. “Just a bit sore,” while also being truthful, “They electrocuted me a few times.”

Finally, someone removes the straps and then dad breaks the constraints around his ankles, allowing him to blissfully stretch and shake out his muscles. Billy helps him sit up and the sight he’s met with is unexpected. “Why are you in a speedo?” To be fair, mom is in a beach cover and Billy’s in pajamas, but at least they’re clothed.

“Um,” it seems the choice of clothing skipped dad’s mind, his hands running haltingly over his bare chest, “it was a tactical choice meant to bewilder and divert attention.”

Scary, rage filled dad is gone and replaced with the normal, dry humored and dorky one, a fact that comforts Tommy far more than he’d ever admit out loud. “Sam’s never taught us about the tactical speedo.”

Dad’s shoulders rise up a half inch and then fall with grace, “It is an advanced skill meant only for the most stalwart of Avengers.”

Which would be more believable (still not close to it, but marginally more so) if he didn’t instantly morph into his uniform when the door opened and the rest of the Avengers came inside, dressed and ready for battle.

Mom directs them, “Vision has downloaded the schematics and files and will share them with you.” A chorus of chimes indicates the message has been delivered. “If you don’t mind,” mom wraps her arm around Tommy’s shoulder, easing him off the bed and helping steady him with her powers, “we’re going to leave the rest to you all.”

Sam’s, “We got it covered,” absolves them of any responsibility in taking down the rest of whatever shady organization this is.

Even though Tommy would love to be part of an actual Avenger’s mission, he’s okay with sitting this one out…for the most part because as they walk towards Billy’s portal, Tommy shimmies free of his family’s helping hands long enough to stare smugly down at the broken nose of the leader of the assholes, “Told you you were fucked.” And then they leave, certain that the message was loudly received: no one messes with the Maximoffs.

#scarlet vision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #mine #ask anon #To anyone else who has sent me an ask - I promise I am working my way through them!#The maximoffs

31 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil... She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

#Anevka Sturmvoraus #Girl Genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Klaus Wulfenbach #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Othar Tryggvassen #Agatha Heterodyne #Otharnevka #GG OT3 #Phoenix Posts

68 notes · View notes

theycallmebeccawrites · 3 years

Text

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 25

Happy New Year’s Eve (and yes, I realize some of you are already in 2021, but I’m not.) Nothing like waiting until almost the last minute to get my promised new episode posted before the end of December. But success.

I’m currently on my lunch break, so I have to keep this short and sweet.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me as I’ve been writing this series. I truly appreciate each and everyone one of you. And shout out to my betas: @nomadicpixel @alievans007 @heather-lynn and @mrs-captain-evans - you four are amazing cheerleaders and this story wouldn’t be what it is without you and your help.

♥Becca♥

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Episode Summary: Chris returns to Los Angeles (and Ellie)... for real this time.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 24.5

Episode 25: Only Fools Rush In

December 5, 2014

Chris's house in Los Angeles was dark when the cab came to a stop in front of it in the early hours of the morning. The driver helped Chris get his luggage out of the trunk and then wished him a 'Merry Christmas' after Chris slipped him a tip.

As the cab drove away, Chris stared up at the big house, trying to block out the memories from that day in July when he'd seen Ellie and Pierre hugging. Now that he knew what had actually happened, he felt like a fool for jumping to conclusions.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it. That rock bottom moment for him had been a catalyst. He'd finally gotten over the hurdles his mind created and was letting his heart take the lead on the whole Ellie dilemma. He owed it to them both to seek her out. He didn't know how it would go, but he was prepared to apologize and, if she wanted, walk away.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and carried his suitcases in. His eyes drifted up the stairs and he knew he should take them up to his bedroom, but he wasn't ready to go there yet. Instead, he dropped the suitcases at the bottom of the stairs then walked through the quiet house, taking everything in.

For some reason, Chris had expected everything to be different, but it all looked the same. The only thing that was noticeably different was the smell. The house didn't smell bad by any means, it just didn't smell like the light, fruity scent that he associated with Ellie.

It wasn't until he got to the kitchen that he noticed things missing, specifically Ellie's things. Like her ugly coffee cups that she insisted on keeping next to the coffeemaker so they were within easy reach first thing in the morning. His eyes then slid to the floor by the backdoor where Daisy's things had been. He missed her almost as much as he missed Ellie.

Taking a shaky breath, he started a pot of coffee, knowing it would be the only way he was going to make it through the day after taking a red eye flight from Boston to Los Angeles. While the coffee brewed, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and then looked back at the coffee maker.

"I don't know why you keep them so far apart," Ellie's voice came back to him from a long-forgotten conversation. "It's silly. The coffee cups should be right above the coffee pot for easy access. Everyone knows that."

"You're right," he admitted out loud in his empty kitchen.

Trying to remember the other things Ellie had said to him over their time together, he opened the doors of all his cupboards and began reorganizing them. At first, it required a lot of thought, but once it got down to just putting things away, his mind started to wander.

It had been ten days since he'd learned the truth about what had happened in the driveway back in July. At first, he had been too overwhelmed by the information and hadn't been able to process it. Opening up to his mom about everything had helped, but that had just been step one.

The next step had been sorting through his feelings. He knew he was in love with Ellie. Months of long, lonely nights of introspection convinced him of that. But he also knew that his feelings weren't what was important right now. Ellie's feelings were all what mattered. Him being in love with her didn't mean a damn thing if she didn't feel the same way. Or worse, if she hated him and never wanted to see him again.

He'd tried to put on a brave face for Thanksgiving, but his heart hadn't really been in it. He'd gone through the motions, but not even a competitive game of Trivial Pursuit had pulled him out of his head.

His mom had given him until Saturday morning before she'd stepped in to help some more. Through a series of questions, like 'what are you thinking' and 'what are you planning to do', she helped him get through the quagmire that was his brain. The outcome of which had been him deciding to go back to Los Angeles to talk to Ellie.

The biggest question that had followed his decision had been when. Scott had gone back to LA Sunday morning, but Chris hadn't been ready yet. He'd wanted to come back with a game plan. Even if it all ended up a complete and utter failure.

"What are you doing?" Scott's voice came through the fog of Chris's brain, bringing him back to the present.

Shaking his head, Chris turned and found his brother standing at the top of the stairs to the basement. Seeing the confused expression on Scott's face, he took a step back and took in the reorganizing disaster that was his kitchen.

"Are you ok?" Scott asked, slowly. He'd known Chris was arriving this morning, but he hadn't expected to find his brother rearranging the kitchen when he came in from the guest house where he was now living.

"I'm fine," Chris assured him. "Just felt like reorganizing, I guess." He shrugged. "Ellie was always commenting on the silly places some things were stored and she was right." Stepping forward, he opened the cupboard over the coffee pot. "The mugs are here now. Above the coffee pot."

"You could have just moved the coffee pot," Scott said with a stifled yawn.

"I could have, but it makes sense for the coffee pot, coffee and coffee cups to all be in one area," Chris explained. "Speaking of which, I made coffee. You want some?"

"Shouldn't you be fighting jet lag or something?" his brother asked.

"I slept on the plane," Chris replied with a shrug. "And I've had two cups of coffee this morning. I'll sleep later."

"In your bedroom or in one of the guestrooms?" Scott asked, cautiously. He knew coming back to the house was a big first step for Chris, but he didn't think his brother was fully prepared for the onslaught of memories that the house would bring. Seeing Chris tense at his question, Scott pressed on. "Have you been upstairs yet?"

"I couldn't go upstairs," Chris admitted, softly. The bedroom held so many memories for himself and Ellie but was also the place that his worst memory with her had happened.

"Want me to go with you?" Scott offered. He'd walked by Ellie's side during the aftermath of the breakup and now that his brother was forced to deal with it himself, he could help him, too.

"Will you help me with the kitchen first?" Chris asked, gesturing to the stuff that was still on the counters to put away.

Knowing his brother needed to mentally prepare himself to go upstairs, Scott helped him finish reorganizing the kitchen. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but some of the changes really did make sense. Others, he knew would drive Ellie crazy. Which made him want to take a picture and send it to her, but he resisted the urge. She didn't know Chris was back in town yet and he didn't want to be the one to tell her.

After the last cabinet door closed, Scott expected Chris to come up with a reason not to go upstairs, but his brother surprised him by leading him out of the kitchen.

"Are you ready for this?" Scott asked as he picked up two of Chris's suitcases.

"Not really, but it's not like I have much choice, is it?" Chris asked as he grabbed his other suitcase.

"It'll be ok, you'll see," Scott assured him. "The cleaning lady was here yesterday and she made the bed for you and cleaned the bathroom."

Leading Chris up the stairs, Scott waited for him at the bedroom door. He knew his brother needed to be the one to open the door to fully cement his current reality. Afterall, the last time Chris had been in the room, Ellie had been peacefully sleeping in the bed and it had been April.

"You got this," Scott encouraged as they stood outside the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle, Chris pushed the door open and found the room just as it had always been when he came home from a long time away. It was both comforting and depressing.

He forced himself to take a step into the room and then another until he reached the bed. He dropped his suitcase onto it and Scott did the same with the other two.

Turning to survey the room, he saw the two neatly stacked piles of clothes on the dresser by the bedroom door. He recognized some of the sweatshirts that Ellie had borrowed from him, but others were just clothes he had worn during the days leading up to his early departure.

Sucking in a breath, he turned his attention to the closet. Crossing the room, he opened the door and was taken aback at the chaotic state of it. He knew he'd packed in a rush, but he hadn't realized he'd left it in such a state.

"I told the housekeeper not to clean it up," Scott said from behind him. "I thought you needed to see the way you left things."

"I hadn't realized," Chris whispered as he felt pressure building in his chest. He could only imagine how shocked and hurt Ellie had been when she'd seen the room. "I really fucked up."

"You did," Scott agreed. There was no reason to sugar coat things anymore. At the same time, he could feel the anxiety radiating off his brother. Reaching over, he put his hand on Chris's shoulder and squeezed. "You're here now. That's what's important."

Turning to look at his brother, Chris felt the weight of the last eight months on his shoulders. Not only had he lost Ellie, but he'd effectively lost his own brother, too. Both because of his own stupidity.

"I'm sorry for being a jackass," he told Scott.

"I know you are and I forgive you," Scott replied with a smile. "I'll try not to rub it in your face. Too much anyway."

Chris rolled his eyes and pulled his brother in for a hug.

"So what's your plan?" Scott asked, once they'd parted.

"I'm going to go talk to her," Chris told him.

"You mean call her, right?" Scott responded. The idea of Chris just showing up at Ellie's apartment left him uneasy. Assuming his brother knew where she lived.

"No, I'm going to go find her and talk to her," Chris replied with a shake of his head. "We both know I'm eight months too late to just call her like everything is fine between us."

"You can't just show up, Chris," Scott insisted. "You should give her some sort of warning that you're wanting to fix things. A phone call would be the best way to do that."

"That's assuming she hasn't blocked my number," Chris pointed out. "And on the off chance she hasn't, who says she would even answer the call? Or that she won't hang up when she realizes I'm the one calling?"

"She hasn't and she won't," Scott assured him. He knew Ellie hadn't blocked or deleted Chris's number because he'd looked when he'd seen her the other day. As for the second part, he was certain that she would answer the phone for Chris. If only to make sure that everyone was ok.

"I have to talk to her in person," Chris stated in a tone of finality. "Even if it's just to tell her I'm sorry."

Scott sighed, but nodded his head, as if giving his permission, which meant a lot to Chris. He knew that Scott and Ellie had gotten closer during his absence and Scott had been there for her. Oddly enough, he even appreciated the balancing act his brother was doing to protect Ellie but also help him.

"I don't suppose you'd give me her address," Chris asked, hesitantly. He didn't want to cause problems between his brother and Ellie, especially if things didn't work out for the two of them, but it was worth a try.

"I don't know her address," Scott replied. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He didn't know the address of her apartment or even the address of the bookstore. He could tell Chris where Ellie's apartment was, but he didn't want Chris to catch Ellie off guard. Like his brother, she needed time to process things and having Chris just show up on her doorstep would not be ideal.

"Then I guess I'll start at the bookstore," Chris reasoned. "That's where I was planning to start anyway." He frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "She still works at the bookstore, right?"

"Yes," Scott told him, making a mental note to call the bookstore when he had the chance to give them a heads up. "They have later hours right now because of the holidays. You'll probably want to go on Monday. That tends to be their slow day, though with Christmas right around the corner, that might be different."

"I'm going tonight," Chris stated. "And I knew about the later hours, I saw it on their website. I plan on getting there right before closing time."

"Oh," Scott said, hoping his voice sounded calm despite the panic that Chris's words had caused. Then he remembered that Ellie wasn't working that night. He couldn't remember exactly what she was doing, but he thought it had to do with the afterschool program she'd been helping with. Possibly a Christmas party? Whatever it was didn't matter. All that mattered was that someone else would be at the bookstore and she would get a heads up that Chris was looking for her before they met. He wondered if Ellie would believe him if he sent her a text in the morning saying that Chris had shown up at the house.

"... and that's my plan," Chris's voice trailed off.

Scott blinked and then coughed awkwardly as he realized he'd missed Chris's plans while panicking. "Uh, sounds like you have it all planned out then," he said, hoping his voice didn't give anything away.

"Yeah, I guess," Chris replied, nodding, his mind on his plan. He'd spent hours formulating it and it was almost time to put it into action. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the disaster that was his closet. "I suppose I should deal with this."

"Good idea," Scott said, his mind on making the phone call. "I'll let you do that. I need to go make a phone call anyway."

It wasn't until Scott had left that Chris felt the weight of the pressure he'd succumbed to the night he'd walked away. Unlike that night, however, his heart was able to push past his chaotic thoughts. Starting with the overturned hamper, he picked it up, thankful that someone had taken care of the dirty clothes that had been in there.

It took him a couple hours to get everything picked up and the clothes from his suitcases put away. The hardest part of it all had been the sweatshirts that Ellie had borrowed from him. He smelled each one, hoping they'd still smell like her, but they didn't.

Around two in the afternoon, he gave in to the mental and physical exhaustion he was feeling and laid down for a nap. He slept for a couple of hours and woke up feeling a little groggy, but also recharged.

Hearing his stomach growl, he made his way downstairs and found the house empty. Going into the kitchen, it took him a few minutes to remember where he had moved things to in the kitchen, but eventually he had what he needed to make himself a sandwich.

With hours to kill, he thought about going downstairs to watch tv, but he wasn't sure he was ready for that. At least, not on his own. The basement, even more so than his bedroom, held so many memories for himself and Ellie. It was where they had built their friendship and where it had grown to be more.

Instead, he went back upstairs to take a shower before trying to figure out what to wear. All black seemed too dramatic, but he didn't feel right wearing anything she'd told him she loved seeing him wear. The goal of tonight was for her to see that he was back in town and for him to at least apologize to her. He hoped that she would give him a couple minutes to explain things, but he didn't want to push her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with.

He spent the remaining time going over every aspect of his plan. He purposely hadn't written down what he wanted to say, because he didn't want it to sound rehearsed, but he had a general idea. If all went well, Ellie would be at the shop when he got there and then he'd either talk to her or make plans to talk to her another time.

He felt nervous, but oddly calm at the same time. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

With two hours until closing time, he left the house and made his way to the Los Angeles neighborhood that the bookstore was in. He gave himself more than enough time to get there, not wanting to risk getting stuck in traffic and getting there after they closed for the night.

As it was, he got there a good forty-five minutes before closing time and stopped for coffee before finding a parking spot in front of the shop. He sipped his coffee as he waited, mentally going over everything he wanted to say to Ellie. Assuming she let him talk and didn't run him out of the shop.

With five minutes left until closing time, Chris got out of the car and made his way to the shop. The bells jingled above his head as he came inside.

"We're closing in -" A friendly voice started to say before switching to a less friendly one when he came into sight. "Oh. It's you."

Even though he'd never met Veronica, the shop owner, he knew that was exactly who the middle aged woman was. "You know who I am?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You're Ellie's actor," the woman replied, pursing her lips. "I'd heard you were in town."

"Scott," Chris said, suddenly feeling annoyed with his brother. Obviously that had been the mysterious phone call he'd had to make. "Look, I'm just -"

"I know you're trying to find Ellie," Veronica interrupted him. "Go sit in the break room. I'll be with you in a minute."

Confused, Chris followed her directions and made his way into the break room. It was as he stepped into the back room that he picked up on a familiar scent that rocked him to his core. Ellie had been here or maybe her scent was just imprinted on the place since she worked here. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed the smell until now.

"I dated an actor once," Veronica's voice said from behind him.

Chris turned to face her, waiting for a clue as to how it applied to himself and Ellie.

"It was the worst experience of my life," Veronica continued. "He was the vainest man I'd ever met, in the end. At first, he treated me like a queen. Taking me to parties and events with other famous people. Then something changed and it became hell for me. It's been thirty years and I still can't say one nice thing about him."

"I'm sorry you went through that," he said, still confused. "But you're right, Hollywood is filled with some pompous assholes."

"And are you one of them?" she asked pointedly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I will admit that I let Hollywood and fame in general get to my head when I was in my twenties, but that's not who I am anymore or who I want to be."

"Ellie and your brother would agree to that, I know," Veronica told him. "Which is the only reason you are in the break room right now and not standing outside."

As she crossed her arms and leveled a protective look at him, Chris realized what was happening. His brother had obviously clued her into the fact that he was back to talk to Ellie, but Veronica had taken it a step farther, wanting to protect Ellie from anymore heartache if she could.

"I fucked up," he said, simply. Obviously, he had mentally prepared to talk to Ellie, not her boss, but if he had to play hardball to get the chance to talk to her, he'd do it. "And I hurt her in the process and I regret that."

"Now you're back," Veronica stated, visually unswayed by his words.

"Now I'm back," he confirmed. "I don't know if I can fix things, but I want to try. If she'll let me."

"And if she won't?" Veronica pressed.

"Then I walk away. Forever," Chris promised. Squaring his shoulders, he added, "I'm not here to tell her I love her. I'm not saying I don't, but I know that my words aren't worth shit to her, to you, to anyone who knew about our relationship."

Veronica's eyebrows rose at his confession, but she didn't interrupt.

"I just need a chance to talk to her," he continued. "My brother wanted me to call her, but I know this conversation has to happen in person. It's been too long for it to happen any other way."

As if triggered by the word 'call', Veronica's phone started to ring. He saw her take it out of her pocket and saw the look of surprise that crossed her face.

"Excuse me for a minute," she said before disappearing into a private office and closing the door.

Sighing, Chris sank down into a chair at the table. Dealing with an overprotective boss was not something he had planned. Let alone his brother tipping off said boss. That said, he was happy that Ellie had people looking out for her.

Hearing the door open, he saw Veronica putting on a coat.

"Mr. Evans, you are lucky that I believe in fate," she told him as she turned off the lights in the office. "I assume you brought your car?"

"Uh, yes," he replied, more confused than ever, as he stood up.

"Good, Ellie needs us," she told him. "I'll let you drive."

"Is she ok?" he asked as he followed Veronica out of the building via the door in the alley.

"She's fine, but Santa just called saying he was going to the ER for appendicitis," Veronica explained as she locked up.

"Santa?" Chris repeated. What the hell was she even talking about?

"The costume should fit you," Veronica continued as if not hearing him. She led him down the alley and to the street.

"Wait? You want me to dress up as Santa?" Chris said, finally catching up. Sort of.

"Yes," Veronica replied, turning to look at him. "Unless everything you said in the break room was a lie."

"It wasn't," he said firmly, finally knowing something for certain.

"Good." Veronica nodded as they reached his car, the only one parked in front of the bookstore. "The community center is a ten minute drive from here. We'll need to hurry though. The kids are expecting Santa and Mrs. Claus to hand out presents."

Head still spinning in confusion, Chris followed her directions to the community center. Then found himself ushered down a dark hallway to an office.

"Your costume is in there," Veronica told him. She opened a door and all but pushed him inside.

Mind still trying to catch up with what was going on, it took Chris a minute to see the Santa costume hanging on a coat hook. Still not sure what this all had to do with Ellie, he grabbed the red, fake velvet pants and was in the process of pulling them on over his jeans when the door suddenly opened.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a woman dressed as Mrs. Claus come into the room. Her costume consisted of a red velour dress that matched Santa’s costume, a white curly wig and a pair of fake glasses.

Glasses that circled eyes he knew very well.

Eyes that widened when they saw him standing there.

"Chris," Ellie said in a tone of disbelief.

Episode 26

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

Tag List: @nomadicpixel, @heather-lynn, @alievans007, @mrs-captain-evans, @stopjustlovethemcu, @thewannabewriter, @guera31, @badassbaker, @chezdricks, @patzammit, @katiew1973, @zoeloveschrisevans, @marvelouspottering, @pegasusdragontiger, @smoothdogsgirl, @peaceinourtime82, @ek823, @anionthewrite, @mizzzpink, @giftofdreams, @janeyboo, @princess-evans-addict, @jesseswartzwelder, @avenger-nerd-mom, @furrywerewolfcollector, @ladyamandapanda12, @gigglegirl77, @poisonedyouth-americanbeauty, @jennmurawski13, @theladybiers, @rapunzel-flynnrider, @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss, @animnerd, @tvjunkie08, @coldmuffinbanditshoe

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x original female character #chris and ellie #chris and ellie series

63 notes · View notes

dat-carovieh · 3 years

Text

Got some interpretation on Hank’s character that got prompted by some discussion on Discord about the stickers on Hank’s work desk. They all seem to somehow send a message about some boomer guy who is racist about androids, hates his ex-wife, is in general a grumpy asshole who is a prick to everyone. But is he really and if not, how do you explain the stickers?

So, let’s first have a look at who Hank interacts with throughout the game to see if he really is a grumpy prick like the stickers suggest. We will get to the stickers later. I will not include Connor for now, because I think that has been talked about a lot also this post is already a novel. But let’s talk about side characters.

We have of course his co-workers. Most memorable is probably Gavin. He clearly doesn’t like Gavin and Gavin clearly doesn’t like him. Gavin is pretty shitty to Hank, despite Hank being his superior. So I think Hank calling Gavin an asshole and not being friendly with him makes sense. How about other co-workers, we don’t see a lot. I can only think of Ben and Chris. They seem to be respecting each other. In Partners Hank arrives, gets greeted by Ben, has a polite conversation about what happened, Ben teases him a little, Hank does not get rude about it, maybe a bit grumpy, but well he’s annoyed about his new partner. He than walks around the crime scene and asks questions. When he talks, he is polite to the person he talks to. He talks to Chris in public enemy (Please excuse if I forget instances, I have played the game a couple of times, but my brain isn’t perfect) He enters, he makes a joke, in my opinion it’s funny and in no way rude, he’s annoyed with the FBI, yeah but I think that’s normal. He asks Chris questions, listens to him, polite conversation, they seem to clearly respect each other and have a good and professional relationship. Later Hank is clearly really affected by what happened to Chris, no matter if he got killed or not.

Jeffrey is a little harder. They do yell at each other, it’s not really pretty, there are clearly issues between them. They go way back and I can imagine they butt heads a lot because Jeffrey is disappointed in Hank for letting himself go and giving in to his depression and alcoholism. I can imagine he had tried to help Hank and he resisted a lot, Hank seems like the type. So there is a lot of tension that comes out between them.

I mentioned the FBI earlier, so clearly, we have to talk about Perkins, THAT MOTHER FUCKER. Yeah, I hate him, he’s an asshole, Hank thinks the same. But honestly Perkins was super rude from the beginning. Chris introduced them and instead of a “Hello” or whatever his first words were “What is that” about Connor. Yeah, fuck off Perkins. Hank has actually been really polite with him there, if you take in the circumstances.

Let’s move to the Eden Club. Who does he interact here? Ben, briefly, polite professional, he calls Gavin an asshole, when he’s not there, he doesn’t really say anything to Gavin when they’re in the same room, despite Gavin being a little shit again. Eden Club owner? He’s polite as he questions him, he does mention that he likes his dog more and more the more he learns about humans, which honestly, if you look at why he says that, understandable. Then the Traci, this is easily missed, I only saw it on my fourth playthrough, he is trying to gently let her down and it’s incredibly adorable. The guy who supposedly absolutely hates Androids and thinks they’re just machines tries to not hurt this android sexworker’s feelings even though he believes she doesn’t even have feelings.

We see a little bit of his private life at Chicken Feed where he meets Pedro, a guy who apparently gives him questionable betting advice and last time Hank apparently lost quite a bit of money with Pedro’s advice. But he’s not mad. He mentions it but he is quickly convinced to bet again and he’s in general super friendly to Pedro. Gary, the guy who owns Chicken Feed, him and Hank also seem to have a good relationship. Someone who wouldn’t want to interact with humans and who is annoyed by them (like me sometimes) wouldn’t actually built a connection to the guy you buy your food from. I’m talking from personal experience here. Yes, I’m always friendly to service workers I interact with but I don’t really say more than greeting, thanking, wishing a good day and anything important for whatever I’m buying. Hank clearly knows him better and talks to him. Jimmy is less clear but the way he says to him “Wonders of technology, make it double” it seems like they know each other, they chat on occasion. And I think that extends to other Service workers. He would be friendly at the grocery store when something doesn’t work out r at the restaurant when getting the wrong dish. You know like millennials are, because he is a millennial.

That we go to Kamski. I’m not sure why he seems nervous while talking to Chloe because I’m pretty sure with all his experience he doesn’t get nervous in front of a pretty woman, that seems like it would be really bad for the job. I don’t know what’s with this, maybe cause she’s an android and he’s not sure how to interact with her? But he is very polite to her, greets her and asks for Kamski. Despite her being an android, he supposedly hates. He is less polite to Kamski, but he’s a little shit, who honestly is wilfully withholding information from the police, which is a crime, but he’s rich so I guess he gets away with it.

So, what about the Stickers than? Let’s have a look at the Stickers and see what we have.

I’m just gonna list what we see there, so you don’t have to get through my grainy screenshots and also, it’s accessible for screenreaders.

We have three categories, let’s start with anti Android: -“We don’t bleed the same color” -a blue triangle, crossed out, underneath it says: “No more androids”

That’s it, only two, we know he doesn’t like androids but like mentioned before he is still really polite to them, well his relationship with Connor is starting bumpy and based on player choices might get bumpier. But what is it, he hates? He doesn't like androids in their non-deviated state because of what humans want them to be, he hates that humans basically built human shaped slaves. And honestly, I kinda get it. Connor shoots the Tracis? Hank likes Connor less. Hank shoots Chloe, Hank is mad. Connor spares them? Hank tells him he did the right thing. Connor asked him why he didn’t want him to chase Kara across the highway and the first thing he says is “You could have died” before he remembers he’s supposed to hate androids. Yes, he gives positive feedback when Connor shoots the kitchen android but he was actively threatening all of their lifes.

Next, we have a sticker mentioning an ex-wife, only one. It says: “If I wanted to be ignored I’d talk to my ex-wife” There is something else there but it’s blocked by another sticker.

Seems like classical boomer humour “Haha I hate my ex-wife” or it’s ironic. There is no other instance of an ex-wife being mentioned. For all we know, he might have never been married. Hell he might be gay. Cole might have been adopted. The sticker might be ironic. Or he got it from somewhere and just sticked it on or he did it very shortly after the breakup when he was pretty mad.

Third are the grumpy ones. We have more from them. -“If you’re not a bartender, go away!” twice -“How is my driving? Call: 1-555-IDONTCARE” twice -I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like you.” -“Warning, to avoid injury, don’t tell me how to do my job” -“If you have a complaint, please do to hell.” -“Happy people make me sick”

This screams edgy millennial to me. Also the fact he has stickers twice seems like he just got them somewhere and slapped them on because he found them funny. He didn’t buy them specifically.

The bartender ones? Don’t we all like to make fun of our mental illnesses? He knows he’s an alcoholic, might as well make fun about it. The ones about driving? Wouldn’t you stick them on your car? Why is this in the office? Because they’re stupid but somehow funny, just slap them on there. I’m not grumpy? I would totally say that as well. And I believe people told them he’s grumpy so he probably saw this as fitting. I have to admit I don’t have a specific interpretation to telling him hoe to do his job and the complaint one. The one about happy people? This man is heavily depressed, that’s a coping mechanism, it’s again making fun of your own mental illness. But yes, all in all they boil down to edgy millennial.

I’m well aware that this is probably not what David Cage intended but to be honest I don’t care what David Cage intended. He tried to push boomer Hank on us with these stickers but the Hank we got was different. I don’t know if that’s Clancy’s doing or if this is just another plothole. But that is my interpretation of Hank, nobody asked for.

Anyway, I love Hank and I’m making it everyone’s problem.

#Detroit Become human #Hank Anderson #I love him your honor

28 notes · View notes

userpoe · 3 years

Text

alright so I've used the tag 'poe dameron and the no good, horrible, awful, terrible bad week' frequently on this blog regarding the events of tfa/tlj but I've never really expanded on this and usually when I see people mention Poe's trauma, it's usually only the fact that he was tortured (valid). So, without further ado, let's take a look into the amount of trauma my poor kid went through in the span of like...a week and a half (if I had to hazard a guess).

Almost dies pulling a ridiculously dangerous stunt to escape the Colossus with Kaz (Resistance)

Finds the remains of an outpost destroyed by the First Order, is the one to find a tooka doll in the wreckage (Resistance) and realizes what happened

Has to watch Lor San Tekka (a man Poe has spent a long time looking for and greatly admires) be brutally murdered.

Is frozen with the Force and roughed up by some stormtroopers who take the advantage of the fact he couldn’t move

Is taken captive and has to watch as another outpost full of civilians be slaughtered - unable to do a damn thing about it but cry out “no”

Is taken aboard the Finalizer where he is confronted by the fact that the First Order is more powerful/has more resources than he realized

By my estimate, he’s held there for a couple of days: it’s nighttime when he’s captured and we see Rey go through two days on Jakku in between scenes with Poe. So, I reckon he was tortured for most of the first night/most of the next day. His wounds suggest physical torture (bruising around his head, bunch of cuts on his cheek/nose and a busted lip) and the Poe Dameron Flight Log also states that he was tortured by an interrogation droid who was given orders to use any methods available to get him to talk, including neuroshocks (yay). The droid apparently asked Poe where the map/Luke was 813 times and he never broke.

By the end of the second day is when Kylo comes in. As far as I’m aware, there’s no detailed explanation of what Poe sees when Kylo goes through his head but I think it’s safe to assume from what we saw of Kylo doing the same thing to Del in Battlefront II that Poe likely to relive some of his pre-TFA trauma while Kylo searched for the location of the map.

Poe is actually unconscious by the time Kylo leaves the room.

In the Flight Log and in the Poe comics, it’s revealed that Poe believed he was a) going to be killed, b) thought he’d doomed the Resistance and the Galaxy.

It’s day #3 that Finn comes to break him out. Poe’s so out of it still that he looks like he’s barely conscious when Finn comes to collect him. Obviously, things don’t go well and they crash.

Mid-crash, Poe ejects Finn out of the TIE Fighter, but is unable to eject himself out because his flight jacket got caught on the mechanism. He’s thrown out of the TIE Fighter (more physical injuries, yay), and stays unconscious for the rest of day 3.

Wakes up that night and wanders by himself for the night and some of the next day before he meets a scavenger who begrudgingly helps him out. Poe makes his way back to D’Qar, where he informs Leia of all the dozen ways he feels like he’s failed the Resistance, her, and the galaxy

(he never tells her who tortured him, though)

The New Republic is then destroyed. This is the government Poe believed in, served for years. It’s incredibly likely that Poe probably lived on one of the planets that was destroyed during his time in the fleet, and even more likely he lost old friends when it was destroyed.

Despite undergoing several days of torture + duress, Poe is sent to Takodana. When everyone returns to D’Qar, we see that it doesn’t appear he’s even visited a medbay at this point: he still has a busted lip and a lot of bruising.

When Starkiller sets its sights on D’Qar, they have to come up with a plan quickly. The Resistance is noted several times in the Poe comics to only have a handful of pilots: hell, there’s only about 400 people to evacuate in TLJ. They are officially the only people standing in between the galaxy and utter tyranny: no pressure or anything.

Since the bombing squadrons are out on a mission, the Resistance has to send twelve fighter pilots to take on a planet.

Only seven out of those twelve make it back alive (that shot of Poe growling mid battle? Yeah that’s after one of his pilots is killed).

Poe then discovers that Finn was gravely injured - Finn, who Poe probably feels a lot of responsibility for, since he’s there because of him, and who Poe already cares for a lot.

Not necessarily trauma related but it makes me emotional thinking about it: he hesitates long enough to make sure Rey is physically okay before taking off after Finn (you can spy Jessika and Snap watching after Finn worriedly in the crowd too!), and we later don’t see him leave Leia’s side: likely, he’s trying to keep an eye on her since he knows she’s grieving.

The Resistance doesn’t get very long to celebrate, though. Shortly after Rey leaves for Ach-Too, they discover the FO has already recovered enough to launch an attack on D’Qar.

As the Resistance discusses how to evacuate, Poe offers himself up as bait - knowing full well he could die by doing so. He’s scared, and Leia is too (we see this in TLJ, she’s actively nervous while on the comms with him). We even see him trying to calm himself down before he engages (”happy beeps”) once he has a moment to himself after calming Leia and BB-8 down (”c’mon buddy, we’ve pulled crazier stunts than this”).

Gets to listen to Hux threaten Leia, who Poe has spent the last sixteen years admiring and is one of the most important figures in his life/a surrogate mother figure. Literally, Hux calls Leia “[his] precious princess”

(maybe if you’d kept your pasty mouth shut you’d still have a dreadnaught, Hux).

It’s worth noting that almost everyone Poe has loved and lost has died in a space battle, including his mother. The entire Resistance, everyone he has left, is currently vulnerable to dying a similar death.

Poe strapped on a pair of experimental boosters to Black One, knowing full well that they could possibly kill him: they’d never been tested before. In fact, the blow back when he does activate them is so bad, he’s almost knocked unconscious in the TLJ novelization.

Rounding back to Starkiller for a second, it’s easy to see why Poe misjudged the Dreadnaught situation: they managed to take down a freaking planet with twelve starfighters and a ground team of five. A dreadnaught should have been nothing in comparison (and his line of thinking is very similar to Lu’lo’s, the man who helped raise him after Shara died, who’s loss catapulted Poe from being cautious into more freely engaging with the First Order).

Instead, he loses....a lot of his pilots. It’s stated in Spark of the Resistance he was friends with Paige, who - you guessed it - he’s on comms with when she dies. They take out the Dreadnaught, so he tries to focus on that instead - but it’s obvious that it’s eating away at him.

He’s then demoted but barely gets time to process that because then the FO finds them. He offers to go “jump in an x-wing and blow something up” but instead arrives in the hanger just in time to see it go up in flames...with a bunch more of his friends (pilots and techs who were already there) dead. To make matters worse, he was on the comms with Tallie when she died. Please give him a break.

Immediately after this, all leadership is killed in an attack. Poe, Kaydel and Finn are watching from a window when Leia pulls herself back to the Raddus: which likely means they were staring in horror before Leia ever came to. He’s the first one to catch Leia when she reaches the airlock, and doesn’t leave her side until he has to, to attend the meeting with the surviving members of the Resistance.

He then has a CrisisTM when he mentally freaks out, wondering if Leia still left him in charge because he knows she’s been trying to mold him into her replacement (although he believes he’s not worthy and is just a soldier/pilot, nothing more). Look at his sigh of relief when Holdo is called instead! He was terrified.

Kind of thrown by her speech, which I reckon reminded him a lot of the officials he dealt with in the New Republic Navy. [smash cut noises] in Poe Dameron #14, after Lu’lo dies, Leia grounds Poe so he has time to process his grief instead of just throwing himself into the next mission because “Everything’s easy for Poe Dameron, right?” I imagine that’s why Poe was immediately at Holdo’s side: looking for something to do, something to distract him from his own regret, grief and fear. However, it doesn’t work, and he’s again reminded of the things he hasn’t time to process: namely, his demotion -- which likely bothers him less than the fact that it reminds him that the last conversation he had with Leia, she was disappointed in him and it was...essentially an argument.

However, when Holdo makes it clear she doesn’t want his help...Poe backs off. He listens to her, and finds something else to do.

Which is keeping an eye on Leia, apparently, since the next scene we see him, he’s in her quarters. I’m guessing he stopped long enough to get dressed after the meeting, and immediately went to go keep an eye on Leia after this.

After Finn and Rose detail the plan to him, he takes a moment to himself to hold Leia’s hand: no doubt trying to gather up the courage to step into a leadership role. This plan is exactly the kind of thing Leia has come up with for Black Squadron, which is probably why he agrees to it. He’s pulled stunts like this before, this should go well, right?

(Spoiler Alert: no one has any luck in this movie so It Does Not Go Well)

BB-8 goes with Finn and Rose, which leaves Poe on the Raddus without any of his usual support system. Black Squadron is on a mission to gather allies, so he officially has no one to talk to or lean on at this time. He’s utterly alone and the cracks start to show.

(TLJ Poe is a Poe very close to losing hope for the first time. He’s desperate and scared)

In the TLJ novelization, Poe helps evacuate the medical frigate before Holdo grounds him from aiding in future evacuations (??? for reasons never explained). Despite his own growing concerns, Poe greets all the newcomers and spends his free time trying to raise spirits around the Raddus.

After seeing so many of his fellow Resistance members so desperate and without hope, Poe starts to worry everything Leia built is going to be destroyed. He even tells Holdo this, and her response is literally “Captain Dameron. If you’re here to serve a princess, I’ll assign you to bedpan duty.”

which...nice ableism there.

The Day Just Gets Worse and Worse and Poe has absolutely Nothing To Do with no idea how to help, and just a lot of waiting, and he hates that, he hates not being able to actively do something to protect the people he loves so he just gets more and more agitated until he eventually has a meltdown on the bridge.

Despite ALL OF THIS, he doesn’t even want to mutiny. It’s an attempt to buy Finn and Rose a little more time, it’s a last ditch effort, one that he doesn’t Remotely Look Happy About, and was never originally part of the plan.

He then hears Finn and Rose (over the comms, hooray I’m sensing a pattern) be found aboard Snoke’s ship. He realizes they didn’t make it, but doesn’t get time to focus on that because Leia shows up and stuns him.

He wakes up in a panic aboard the ship and (imo, because fellas I’m intimately aware of what one looks like) has a panic attack when he realizes they’ve abandoned ship. At this point, he doesn’t even know there’s a nearby planet to go to (Crait is uncharted), as far as he’s aware, the escape would’ve just been to drift in the weaponless (?) shuttles until they ran out of fuel again. Leia calms him down from it and gently explains the plan to him.

He gets to watch several other shuttles be destroyed, and tries to find out if theirs can go any faster (Leia’s on the ship with him). He then gets to watch Amilyn sacrifice herself and is the first to realize what she’s doing.

I don’t know why it took me so long to realize this but his line “Finn! Rose! You’re not dead! Where’s my droid?” yeah, Poe had no idea they were even alive, he probably thought they were immediately killed or died when Holdo did The Thing.

When they realize they’re trapped, the camera pans up on a worried looking Poe. Just before it cuts away, he’s starting to smile: he’s already prepping for a inspiring speech, despite his own fear. He doesn’t get a chance though, because Finn beats him to it: and then we get the heart eyes shot from Poe, because he realizes he isn’t alone any more (no this isn’t trauma related it just Gets Me In My FinnPoe feelings so)

They begin their run on the battering ram canon. After losing more pilots, Poe orders them to fall back, but Finn disobeys him in a direct parallel to Poe at the start of the film. This move is largely considered a suicide run on Finn’s part...[coughing] maybe the start of the movie was too [coughing]

Poe continues to get everyone to retreat and is the last one back on base. He runs with the medic team to check Finn and Rose, and also bolts to Leia’s side when Luke is fired upon to comfort her.

He panics again when he realizes they can’t get through the only other exit, but luckily they’ve got Rey on the other side.

Shortly after all this, Poe has some drinks with Finn and Rey on the Falcon. He’s still mulling everything over and admits he wishes they’d all met earlier and wonders if things would’ve gone differently if the three of them met after Takodana (Poe Comics)

After Finn asks Poe what happened after the TIE crashed in TFA, Rey encourages Poe to tell them his story as she thinks it would be a “good distraction” from everything else. Poe hesitates, but goes through and literally retells a very traumatic series of events that’s barely a week old, so they have a distraction from everything. He plays it all off light-heartedly, cracking jokes (even says he went through a “little light torture”).

It isn’t until Rey mentions that Kylo also tortured her that Poe treats it a little more seriously “he did that to me too!” and holds his drink up for her to cheer with him and calls them “torture buddies” because he’s Poe Dameron and trying to cheer people up is what he does.

Finn even calls out Poe’s insistence that everything will work out several times in the few issues set post TLJ. He can’t believe Poe has so much faith, but honestly? As much as Poe keeps saying everything is gonna work out, I wonder if he’s trying to convince Rey and Finn or himself.

Finn then asks Poe to catch him up on what happened while he was unconscious post Starkiller.

Let me reiterate that Poe literally just retold with some ease being held captive for three days to distract them.

But after he tells Finn he offered himself up as bait, Poe skirts around the rest of the story with a “well you know the rest!” He can’t even bring himself to talk about the Dreadnaught run. Talking about Kylo running through his head is easier for him than that.

He then receives a recording from Jessika retelling the events of what Black Squadron was up to during TLJ. When he starts the video, he almost immediately pauses it and asks Threepio how it ends. Poe admits he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the video ends with Jess going up in a fireball. Luckily, it doesn’t end that way, but he still has to watch the videos with no idea what happened to his closest and oldest friends.

All of this happens in, like, a week at the most. This doesn’t even BEGIN to touch on the trauma Poe goes through in the Poe comics or even Freefall, but if we did want to touch on that, I’d say that a lot of the events in TFA and especially TLJ probably triggered some bad memories for him. Poe Dameron deserves nothing but fluffy things and also a lot of hugs.

#tegan speaks #i've read/watched every piece of poe media i can get my hands on since 2015 and like. SURE he gives me seratonin #but i now also have a very intense file in my brain of all the trauma he's gone through and how that impacts his every decision and #how events in the films almost definitely remind him of said trauma and it Makes For A Very Depressing Time #i'm sure there's probably more trauma in resistance reborn but i got too mad at the book to try and finish it so i just included #the comics. i'm pretty sure this is everything but I may have forgotten some stuff #long post #sorry mobile users

43 notes · View notes

inadaydream99 · 4 years

Text

Like a Challenge

The Boyz Q/ Changmin

It’s a week before finals and all you want is to get some studying done in the library. Though there’s one thing in your way, the devilishly cute boy sitting in front of the last available computer on his laptop. Things don’t get off to the best start. But what can you say, you both like a challenge...

A/N - I’ve been working on this oneshot for ages now, kinda been busy and not had much time to write recently. But it’s finally finished!! Enjoy! 😁

You have to be kidding me! You’re seething, hands clenched into fists on either side of your body as you stomp towards the only computer that is free in the library.

You had expected for the library to be packed, it approaching finals and all. But not once did it occur to you that there are people out there who seriously sit on their laptop in front of a computer, stopping anyone else from being able to use it.

“Excuse me, is this computer available?” You force a smile onto your face. You have to give the benefit of the doubt right? Maybe he hadn’t realised he had taken the last computer space.

“Yeah.” The guy absentmindedly responds, not even sparing so much as a glance in your direction. You feel the anger bubbling up inside of you once again, becoming more and more agitated by the second.

“Then can you move so I can use it?” Now you’re being blunt, arms folded across your chest as your foot taps impatiently on the floor.

“Maybe if you’d given me a chance to finish my reading then I would have moved, but since you’re being so rude I think I’ll just stay right here.” He finally lifts his focus away from his laptop screen, a scour shooting in your direction.

You gasp a little in shock when your eyes meet his. Ji Changmin. It’s common knowledge around your campus that no one messes with Changmin. Many have tried and failed to outsmart him. But he’s just too clever, too quick witted and snarky. He’s one of the most respected students and you’re not about to take him on in a challenge. Well, at least not right now.

Your mouth snaps shut when you notice Changmin mockingly laughing at you. He’d been watching you the whole time you gawked at him, obviously taken aback when you had realised who you’d come up against.

Heaving a defeated sigh, you turn away from the boy with the intimidatingly dark eyes and begin to walk towards the exit. Maybe tomorrow you’ll have better luck, but for now you’ll settle for studying in your room without a computer.

Four days until finals and your second attempt at getting a good amount of studying done. Being adamant to get a computer in the library, you arranged to meet your friend Younghoon after your morning class. Younghoon was kind enough to offer sacrificing his only lay in of the week to grab a decent study spot in the library for you. But only on the condition that you bought him coffee.

That’s why you almost drop the large takeout cup all over yourself when you gage who has taken the only computer space next to your friend.

“I’m sorry, I tried to tell him this seat was taken but he wouldn’t listen.” Younghoon warily informs you as you drop the cup onto the desk in irritation. You can tell younghoon is nervous, his eyes darting to cast a brief gaze at the person beside him as he informs you in a hushed tone.

“I can’t believe this.” You mumble, dropping your bag off your shoulder. It hits the ground with a loud thud, successfully gaining his attention.

“What.” Changmin turns to you, frustration written across his face. He’s giving you the same look that made you nervous the previous day, only now you aren’t so affected. Or so you hope it seems to him.

You had spent the entirety of the previous evening replaying the awful encounter, each time coming up with new insults and sassy comebacks to spit in his face. You’d imagined rendering him speechless from your perfectly rehursed remarks. Only now, in the moment, does your mind go blank.

“That’s... my seat...” You mentally cringe at yourself. How could you come off so unassertive and timid when you’d envisioned this scenario a hundred times over already?

“Not anymore.” Changmin mocks, the devilish smirk on his face making your fists clench and toes curl. Your body becomes stiff, breathing heavy as you watch him slowly turn back around to face his laptop.

“Come on (Y/N), let’s just go somewhere else.” Younghoon tries to compromise, picking up your bag from the floor and tugging on your hand genlty.

You don’t want to move. Moving means admitting defeat for a second time. But Younghoon persuades you to comply with him by offering his laptop for you to use.

Turning to give one final glare to the back of Changmin’s head, you notice him watching you through the reflection of the black computer screen. The wink he sends you almost makes you see red, a hiss escaping through your gritted teeth as you resist a little from Younghoon’s hold on your hand.

“Don’t stoop to his level.” Younghoon encourages you to raise above and not create a scene in front of the crowded library. And upon refelection you are glad that he was there to keep you grounded and stop you from ripping Changmin’s head off his body.

Three days until finals. If you weren’t determined before you definitely are now. You confidentially march into the library, bag flung over your shoulder as your gaze focuses on one thing and one thing only. The only free computer.

Initially your heart leaps in your chest, an elated sensation filling you when you see the empty seat in front of it. This is the moment you had been waiting for and the overjoyed smile on your face informs everyone of this.

Which is why is only angers your more when you make eye contact with the tormenting devil himself; Changmin. He’d been waiting for you, planning how to rile you up once again.

You thought you were clever yesterday by getting your friend to save a seat? Well, two can play at that game and Changmin never loses.

He grins at you menacingly as he tauntingly places his hand on the back of the chair, dragging it out slowly and finally sitting down in front of the computer.

“Can I help you?” Changmin triumphantly smiles up at you as you stand looming over him. From an outsiders perspective it would seem that you are the one tomrmenting him, his feigned innocence only making you lose more and more of your temper.

“What is your problem?” You speak through gritted teeth.

“I’m not the one with the problem, you are.” Changmin reply’s completely unphased. “If you are so desperate for a computer, why don’t you just buy one?” He tilts his head in question, his smirk alerting you of his mocking.

“Because not everyone is able to afford one.” You snap, though you manage to keep your voice controlled. “Now, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to study for finals and, thanks to you, I’m very behind.” You continue, holding your head up high as you admit defeat for the third and final time.

As you exit the library, you don’t notice the way Changmin watches you walk away, guilt clouding his mind as he slumps into his chair. He’d won at his little game, but for the first time he wasn’t happy. He never thought that he’d ever feel regret towards you and your snarky attitude. I mean, you were the one that started it all, right?

Two days until finals and Changmin is waiting by the very same computer, desperate to see you walk into the library. He’d been thinking about you a lot, wishing to have a chance to make things right between you, to redeem himself in your eyes.

Truth be told he had kind of fallen for you a little. He hadn’t realised it at first, but when you sassed him yesterday it made him feel things he’d never felt for anyone else before. He’d seen a part of himself in you, a way that you were similar and it’d made his stomach flutter nervously.

He stands up straighter when he sees Younghoon enter the library, but as soon as he realises that you aren’t with him his posture deflates again.

“If you’re waiting for (Y/N) then you should give up now. She’s not coming.” Younghoon flatly informs Changmin before continuing past him to find a table to study at.

“I took it too far, didn’t I?” Changmin follows Younghoon to the empty table, perching opposite him. This is the first time he’s looked so vulnerable and it makes Younghoon feel a little sorry for him.

“Look, I get that you like (Y/N), but word of advice from her best friend, annoying her isn’t the way to her heart.” Yonghoon softly speaks, leaning across the table a little to keep their discussion private.

“How did you know I- you know what, it doesn’t matter. How do I win her over?” Changmin begins to question, deciding that you are more important than feeling self conscious over being obvious with his crush.

“Tell her how you really feel.” Younghoon encourages with a warm smile. “Oh and, I’m just good at reading people.” He quickly adds, making Changmin roll his eyes before quickly rushing out of the library.

One day until finals. Changmin had been looking for you everywhere, but with no luck. He’d even waited outside of one of your classes in hopes that he could catch you at the end, but you never showed.

“I see you finally got the computer.” He beams, chuckling as he approaches you while you study.

In a desperate attempt to find you, he’d decided to try the library one last time and he’s very glad he did.

“And I see you’re slacking.” You turn to him with a cheeky smirk, raising your brow in challenge.

“Oh is that right?” He laughs. “Maybe it was intentional.” He retorts lightheartedly.

You were kinda hoping to bump into Changmin today after hearing from Younghoon how guilty he felt yesterday. You finally feel like you have the upper hand in your odd relationship, so why not have a little fun with it?

“Maybe...” The corner of your lip quirks as you stare at each other. A comfortable silence encapsulates you, almost as if you’d come to some unspoken mutual agreement that things were taking a turn for the better between you.

“So... is this seat taken?” Changmin breaks the silence after a minute, eyebrow raises quizzically as he indicates to the empty chair beside you. You sheepishly turn to look at the chair in question before breaking out into a wide smile.

“It’s all yours.” Changmin’s cheesy grin matches yours as he chuckles under his breath. And for the next few hours you sit together, laughing and chatting while you study.

Needless to say, after that your relationship bloomed and you actually managed to do well on your finals despite your disrupted week. Although, Changmin continues to tease you all the time. Some things never change. And maybe you’ve grown to love it. That, and the fact that you give it just as good back.

113 notes · View notes