#I think it would’ve really sold the idea of them all becoming close friends | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thevindicativevordan · 3 years ago

Note

Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

192 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 4 years ago

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.9

masterlist

requests are closed, but please read this first :)

if you want to be tagged, send an ask or message me!

pairing: draco x reader

request: nope, my original shameless self insert idea lmao

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for the ride of her life when their exchange student is...a bit strange (but very hot). NOT a nonmagic AU, though you already knew that if you’ve read part 8 ;)

warnings: swearing, mentions of a break in, concerns about a home intruder, objectively the most fluffy scene we’ve gotten so far in this series (hehe), draco being fucking obnoxious and moody (did i mention swearing?)

a/n: ayoooooo so here’s part 9, as promised. i’ve started getting back into the hp universe more and more, so i should probably be picking up my writing soon. i’ve been feeling more myself again!! which is super awesome. i don’t think many people read this series anymore (or my author notes in general but i don’t blame yall) but i’m having a lot of fun writing it, so i’m going to keep going :)

music recs:

puppy princess -- hot freaks

loverboy -- A-wall

linger -- the cranberries

tags tags tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

word count: 3.8k :)

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Draco deliberately waited until the last minute to tell her family that he was leaving so he could evade her questioning. She tried to talk to him later that evening by knocking on his door, but she was met with complete silence.

Draco was ignoring her, and she didn’t get why. She’d promised to not tell anyone--even begged for him to trust her and essentially swore on her life--but he still wasn’t acting normal. Perhaps he didn’t want her to badger him with questions about the magical world.

Or maybe this was an excuse to get away from her.

Y/N swallowed the second possibility and locked it away somewhere out of sight. He’d left without a single word more to her (not even a congratulations for getting into a top 20 school, that loser) and never even bothered telling her when he’d return. And maybe that was the nicest part of it--she could pretend like he was never coming back.

As attractive as that option was, she had to admit that there was a Draco-shaped hole in her passenger car seat every time she drove to school. And in the kitchen when she was studying. And everywhere else he’d once touched.

“Why do you think he went back?”

Y/N took a break from reviewing her Art History final exam notes to look up at Lizzy. “Maybe something happened with his dad or he wanted to spend his holidays with his family? It’s probably not that serious.”

“Speaking of his dad, I tried to look up his name and see if anything came up,” Lizzy began. Y/N felt her heart jump into her throat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda sus? I haven’t found anything for him. It’s like he’s been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Do you know anything about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business.” Draco’s franticness when she found out lingered in the back of her mind as she chose her words carefully. “I’m sure if he’s a genuine political target, they’ve just scrubbed the web clean of him, being a minor and all.”

“But don’t you think it’s funny that he’s apparently so important but there’s no evidence of him or his father ever existing?”

“Lizzy.” Her voice was firm. “It’s entirely possible that his real name is different. And either way, it’s not our story to uncover. He’s entitled to his own privacy, and if he doesn’t reveal his true identity then we need to respect that.”

“Oooookaaayyyyy, Mother,” said Lizzy. “You’re so fun. You know that, right?”

“It’s my job.”

After the close brush with Lizzy, Y/N avoided the topic of Draco with her friends like wildfire. At the back of her mind, she registered that that was probably more suspicious, but when Sylvia asked her about him during lunch, she finally spun up a story.

“I told him I liked him,” she told everyone, the words stinging her throat. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I just would feel better if we dropped it.”

Her friends reacted immediately with sympathy, telling her that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see her for what she was worth. Somehow, this made her feel worse. She didn’t even need to tell him her feelings to know his thoughts--he didn’t see her as anything but a “muggle”, or whatever he called them. She never stood a chance.

Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how things would’ve been different if she was a witch. She didn’t know anything about his world (apart from the fact that they really had a stick up their asses about people knowing of them) but she somehow craved a place in it. Would Draco feel differently towards her if she was magic?

It was probably better if she didn’t pay too much mind to it, but she couldn’t let the thought go. Every time she shut her eyes at night, the memory of waking up next to Draco replayed in her head, over and over. She would’ve sold her soul to have gone back to that. Would things have been different if she had just...not found the letters? She was driving herself crazy digging through all her interactions with him. There’s no way she was imagining things, and judging by the surprised reactions of her friends when she told them he didn’t reciprocate feelings, she wasn’t the only one who thought something was there. If he was really so disgusted by her and her people, he wouldn’t have let her sleep in his room, in his bed no less.

As December wore on, her mind began to be occupied by another feverish stream of thoughts. If she didn’t already feel like she was going crazy over the Draco problem, she was going completely insane over the fact that she was misplacing things like crazy and forgetting the most basic of things. It seemed like it was almost every day that she was forgetting where she put her keys (even though she could’ve sworn she’d hung them up by the door) or getting home to find the door already unlocked even though she was sure that she’d locked it behind her. It would’ve creeped her out, but she was really off kilter. It just wasn’t right having Draco away, and the sense of dread she got every time she went by her room just threw her off balance. What if she still had lingering sickness from whatever magical infliction she suffered?

He really should’ve stuck around to watch after me. Just in case.

Another thing was bothering her--a name she saw pop up in the pouch from when she went through his letters. It was a small portion of his collection, and she didn’t even think to examine it until after he took them back from her, but she noticed that the name “Pansy Parkinson” came up more than once as a return address.

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst--Draco was madly in love with another girl, a magical girl, and traveled back home with the express purpose of declaring his neverending devotion for her and complaining about that rat Ohioan muggle that he had to spend his days with.

Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t quite shake it. The fact that he’d no doubt grown up around girls that would be suitable for him to date was making her physically ill with jealousy, which was probably the most embarrassing part of her feelings for him. Nevermind how much time she spent fantasizing about how soft his hair felt or how his stupidly pretty fingers would feel grazing her skin--she couldn’t even cope with the idea of him existing with other women that were honestly a better choice to him.

That Christmas was surprisingly bleak. Being an only child always made for a quiet house during the holidays, but the expectation she held of having Draco there set her up for disappointment. Her house felt empty.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” Y/N asked her mother as they did the morning dishes together.

“Well, I assume so. Why wouldn’t he? He was scheduled to spend the entire year with us. I think that if he’s changed his mind we would at least know by now.”

“What if he’s still deciding?”

“Why, miss him already?” Mrs. Y/L/N’s tone was teasing, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Quite the contrary. I’m just wondering if I’m about to become the pampered only child again or if I’m going to need to go back into the unglamorous life of sharing the spotlight.”

“Y/N,” her mother tutted. She’d stopped doing the dishes.

Y/N made a point to evade her knowing look. “Mom.”

Her mother took a breath before answering. “Nothing. As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him a few days ago. He’s scheduled to return the second week of January, right before school goes back.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, there’s no way her relief wasn’t visible.

“How’s that for your Christmas gift, hm?”

“Mom!”

“Hey! Hey, it was a joke,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, throwing her hands up in a “no can do” sort of gesture. “I know that you’re good friends with him is all. Unless…”

“Mom!” Her cheeks were all shades of red.

“All I’m saying is that he seems to enjoy your company.”

“Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.” Her explanation of what that meant was on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. There was no reason to--the only person who would need that explained to them was no longer on the same continent as her.

“Whatever you’d like to think.”

The snowstorm hit them without warning, two days after Christmas. Her parents had left for the night to attend a charity auction, but unfortunately for Y/N, by the time that they realized that their daughter would be snowed in, the roads were too dangerous to drive on. Y/N begrudgingly agreed to do all of the things they told her to--get the generator ready, make sure the fireplace was prepared, and locate all the candles in the house.

On any normal day, she wouldn’t have been concerned in the slightest, but she’d felt uneasy in her house ever since the night of the break-in, and now that this was the first night she’d have to spend alone, her heart was pounding at the thought of having to sleep in an empty house. Especially if the power was out. Especially when whoever broke in was still on the loose.

She locked up at dusk, making sure that every entry to her home was completely sealed shut. The generator was in the basement, all set up in the case that the lights went out. She’d located all the bottled water in her house in case the pipes froze, and she finally retired to her room to relax.

The sense of dread that hovered around Draco’s room was gone, thankfully. The overall feeling of creepiness was just beginning to lose its jarring sting, but she’d never quite been able to shake how many things she misplaced in the beginning of the month.

She busied herself with mundane activities--she cleaned out her closet, organized her drawers, read, changed her sheets, and finished the last of her homework--but nothing could distract her from the gnawing inside of her. The hairs on the back of her neck constantly stood up, even when she was tucked away in the corner of her room, nestled into her blankets. The tingling was akin to what she felt when she walked into that antique shop on homecoming night--the same night when Draco helped her off her feet and narrowly kept her from throwing up all over Heather.

Looking back on it, she realized that when he grabbed her wrist, he must’ve done something to quell her nausea, something magical. There was no way her carsickness could’ve been able to disappear so quickly.

Her soliloquy was interrupted by what sounded like footsteps outside. Before she could assess the situation and decide what she was going to do, a boom sounded off in the distance and she was all of a sudden bathed in darkness.

Y/N froze.

Someone was most definitely outside her house, but thankfully she’d locked all the doors. And, thankfully, the boom told her that her fuse box hadn’t been messed with. A tree had probably just fallen on a transformer.

But those small comforts still didn’t change the fact that she was no longer alone--and not only that, but no longer alone without power.

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by banging on her front door. Y/N jumped, just barely managing to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that alerting someone that you were home wasn’t the smartest move. She’d have to be strategic.

Heart pounding out of her chest, she crept out of her room and down the stairs. The power outage was quite lucky, she realized, as whoever was outside couldn’t see in. The moon only cast a slight light as it reflected off of the snow, so she was going to be able to see the person outside before they would see her.

She squinted from her perch by the base of the staircase. She could make out a silhouette, a tall and lanky one. The weak moonlight reflected off a very light head of hair, and Y/N was struck with a feeling of familiarity.

No way...

Y/N stood frozen for a few seconds as she heard the person knock on the door again. A muffled version of a familiar British voice said, “Is anyone there?”

Throwing all caution to the wind and praying to any higher power that was listening to her that her suspicion was correct, she pushed down on the doorknob and swung it open.

Her heart stopped.

“Draco? What are you--”

Before she could get another word out of her mouth, she was pulled into the tightest (and snowiest) hug of her life. One of his arms wrapped solidly around her waist, the other reaching further up to her shoulders to hold her closer. He was tall enough in comparison that he could rest his chin on the top of her head while she cautiously clasped her hands around him, breathing in the same soft pine scent that she knew so well.

When he finally let go of her, she noticed that his face was decidedly less pale than what it had been when she first opened the door. At a loss for words, Y/N just made her way behind him and shut the door to keep the storm from blowing any more snowflakes in. She noted that Draco was shaking.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

She grinned. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m not that scared of the dark.”

He didn’t look nearly as amused, wringing his hands out in front of him instead of meeting her eyes.

“You’re going to freeze to death if you’re gonna just stand there in soaking clothes,” she chided. “And what are you doing back half a month early? I know you must’ve missed me, but I didn’t expect you to miss me THAT much.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing Y/N the comfort that the sarcastic asshole was still in there. “We need to talk.”

“No, what you need to do is get changed into dry clothes,” she said. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but until we get our generator working, there’s no heat...and I’m not sure if the Ministry is going to like it if I let you die on my watch.”

Even though he didn’t normally laugh at her jokes, he seemed especially solemn when she said this. It became very clear to her then that he regretted his brief display of affection.

“What are you doing, just standing here? Shoo! I don’t want to see you dripping snow all over the rug.” She waved him off until he made his way up the stairs, still eerily silent.

Once she was sure he was actually getting dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where she started heating up the water. She’d never been more thankful for the fact that they had a gas stove instead of an electric one.

The tea was almost finished brewing by the time that Draco was back downstairs, perched awkwardly on the couch. She’d never seen his sweater before--it was in a rich forest green with a silver crest of a snake.

“Are you going to tell me whatever is going on? I’ve never seen you like this before,” asked Y/N as she handed him the mug that she knew to be his favorite.

He took a sip and waited a bit before responding. “I found out some things while I was away.”

“Is that it? Must’ve been something pretty interesting for you to come in here and act like I’m your long lost love or whatever.” She took careful note of how his cheeks were especially pink, but it must’ve been because of the cold.

“I shouldn’t tell you everything, but I think you should probably know the gist of things,” he began. “First of all, I figured out why I couldn’t use the Obliviation cube on you. Also, you have to consent to an Unbreakable Vow.”

“A...what? Care to elaborate? Like, at least a little? Why didn’t it work on me?”

He sighed, a sharp breath of air that left his lungs in a huff. “Because you stumbled upon a very important box that can bestow the gift of magic onto anyone. And since you did something in your dream to try and open it, it permanently took root in you. I tried to reverse it, but there’s always going to be an imprint of magic on you.”

“Sick. So I’m a witch now? Like you?”

“No.” His tone was sour. “No, you’re not. For that to work, there needs to be a ritual actually completed by someone magical. That’s why you got so sick--because you would’ve needed me to help you through your dream sequence and open up the box. So, now that you’ve essentially pushed yourself into the magical world uninvited, I can’t use anything on you that’s catered towards Muggles.”

“Rats,” said Y/N. “That’s no fun. What about the whole part about my safety? And what’s that vow thing?”

“Apparently someone really, really wants that box,” Draco told her. “It doesn’t just give muggles the gift of magic--it can also give current wizards powers that are otherwise completely unavailable to the rest of the population. In the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc on the world. And I’m almost positive they think you have it.”

“Oh…” Everything started falling into place. “So, the break in? That probably was them right? And, uh, let’s say if you feel like maybe someone has been in your house while you’ve been gone? Like, that’s something I should be worried about, right?”

“Is that happening to you?” His face looked significantly more pale.

Y/N was tempted to tell him no--just to ease his nerves--but something in his look told her that she needed to be truthful. “Um, kind of. You know how I can be forgetful, though. It’s just little things, like sometimes I come home to find that the front door is unlocked when I’m sure I locked it, or I can’t find little things like my car keys and my phone, but it’s all easily explained.”

“I never should’ve left,” he said, tucked his knees up to his chest. “I should’ve known that that was Merlin’s Box.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes with a gaze that looked so forlorn that her heart ached. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, all we have to do is tell them I don’t have the box, right? And then they’ll leave me alone.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, but if they didn’t find the box when they originally ransacked your room and they’re still hanging around, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I can’t obliviate you, the proper way that we use on wizards, because I can’t always be there to save you. Once I’m gone, you’re going to have to manage on your own.”

“Please, Draco,” said Y/N. “People will always talk a big game, but once I pull out my pepper spray it’s over. I can take care of myself! I didn’t need protection while you’re away.”

He smiled then, a small one that seemed more sad than anything. “You sound like me. When I was younger.”

“You probably don’t even know what pepper spray is. What’s that vow thing?”

“You have to promise that you won’t say anything that would reveal what you know about me and my world,” said Draco. “I need to find a wizard to say the incantations, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I ended up telling the Ministry what happened--I’m not going to get sent away as they have a clear record of me at least attempting to wipe your memory and they agree that you need to be able to protect yourself. Unbreakable Vows are just really intense promises. If you break it, you die.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t really trust my word?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s required by the Ministry. If you don’t comply, then you’re going to be completely obliviated and then you can have as much fun as you’d like trying to run from whoever that criminal is without even knowing why they’re after you. Oh, and without me.”

“Then why are you even offering the vow? Don’t you want to go home?”

Draco took a long drink from his mug. “I still have a sentence to carry out. If I go back home, I’ll get sent to the same prison that my father is being held at right now.”

“A...sentence?” Y/N stared at him. “I know you mentioned a punishment, but a sentence?”

He remained silent and refused to meet her eyes.

“Draco, what exactly did you have to do?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. The sudden switch of tone made Y/N start, but he was unwavering in his scowl. “I’d prefer to not think about it.”

“But...Draco…” Y/N cast her gaze to the ground so she didn’t have to see the no doubt furious look in his eyes when she continued to push. “How bad? Do you think that maybe whoever is after me might know that I don’t have the box anymore? And that they might be trying to seek revenge against you for whatever it was that you did instead?”

He didn’t respond.

“Think about it. That would explain why I was untouched this whole time that you were away when they were still keeping tabs on me.”

With a pronounced bonk, he set his mug down on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.”

She managed to get one more look at his face before he spun around to head up the stairs and was shocked to see what was etched into his face--anger, yes, frustration...and also shame. Unmistakable shame.

final a/n: weeoooooooo i’m like 3 minutes early...this is a monumental moment for my blog. let me know what you guys think (if there’s still people sticking with this series fjkds;al). i am going to go back into my hole and work on some math hw (wonders of ohio y/n vibes...i have low key become her trying to roleplay as a stem girl). the plot is going to thicken and hopefully there will be more fluff soon. i honestly didn’t want to add the hug bc i do want this to be slow burn but it has come to my attention that this is now about 30k words long and i haven’t given y’all so much as an inkling that draco has feelings/anything will happen between them so i gotta give you something to hold you over fjdska;

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy #draco #dracotok #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n

100 notes · View notes

flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years ago

Text

the best by far is you: chapter 17

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 17

Edinburgh

June 1746

Edinburgh proved difficult to search. One lone carriage was hardly something of note for residents of Edinburgh, and that besides, Claire was quite certain this was where that particular journey had ended. They had no way of knowing where in the city Jamie and Faith would’ve gone once they’d arrived. So they checked every tavern, inn, and boarding house they could find, hoping they weren’t too late, that Jamie and Faith hadn’t moved on to some other place.

It was once again the horse, of all things, that gave them hope.

They were walking through a bustling market when Fergus stopped so abruptly in front of Claire that she nearly knocked him over. “Fergus, what are you‒”

His gaze was frozen on something ahead. “It’s Donas, Milady.”

“What?”

He didn't wait another second and surged forward into the crowd, leaving Claire and Murtagh to scramble after him. When they caught up to him, they were both brought almost nose-to-nose with a black horse that was unmistakable to them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire whispered tightly, eyes widening at the sight before her. Donas was tucked back into a stall just off the busy street, but his head swung curiously over the wooden gate.

She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. If Donas was here, then‒

“Get back!”

The three of them startled at the sharp voice, Claire’s hand flying to Fergus’s shoulder as if that could shield him. Off to their right, a man had appeared ‒ a blacksmith by trade if his gritty, grimy appearance was any indication. “Unless ye want tae lose a hand. That beast is the devil’s own.”

Donas reared back suddenly, as if he understood and took offense. Claire was used to the horse’s attitude, but his timing always was something else, she thought. The blacksmith only took this as confirmation of what he’d just said, nodding sharply toward the horse with wide-eyed suspicion.

“See? He kens it.”

“That is not‒” Fergus began. Claire squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, can you tell us where we might find the owner of this horse?”

The blacksmith’s gaze shifted over the three of them, considering. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and leveled a withering gaze at Claire. “Ye’re lookin’ at ‘im.”

“What?” She balked. Her gaze flew back to Donas, looking him over more discerningly. It had to be him. Then…?

“When did you acquire him?”

“I dinna see why ye need tae know.”

It was clear the man was growing tired of them, but before Claire could respond, Murtagh had fired back a reply. “I dinna see what harm there is in answering the lass.”

The blacksmith hardly concealed his annoyance but threw his hands up in defeat. “If it’ll make ye leave. A man brought him ‘round last week and sold him to me‒”

Claire felt her breath leave her lungs in a rush. A week ago. They’d never been this close before. A light, buoyant feeling filled her.

“‒ under false pretenses, mind. Tha’ horse was docile as a wee lamb when he brought ‘im here. Soon as he’s gone, I was dealing wi’ a demon.”

“Maybe you should‒”

Whatever Fergus was about to say, Claire was certain it wouldn’t have been flattering. And she needed more from this conversation still.

“Last question and then we’re out of your hair.” She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of what answers they might be able to walk away with. “What can you tell me about the man who sold you the horse?”

They’d come to stay so long in Edinburgh that Faith’s understanding of “home” was beginning to solidify around the place they’d resided there: Mary’s aunt’s house. And while the streets were still crawling with soldiers, Jamie had gone so long without incident or recognition that the wariness was fading each time he stepped outside.

Mary's aunt had been hospitable in opening her home to Jamie and Faith when they arrived with Mary, though Jamie got the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this arrangement, given that she knew he was a Scot.

Still, it was a safe haven while they waited for sea passage to open up again.

Jamie entered the house, lugging his bundle of purchases, and was almost immediately greeted by Faith's high-pitch squeal from the other room. He paused, wondering if it was a squeal of excitement or some sort of fit.

There was a bustle of movement up ahead from the parlor and then Faith tumbled out into the hallway, tripping on the hem of her dress. It was new to her, an old dress belonging to one of Mary's cousins, and they were adjusting it for Faith.

"Da!"

Happy squeal, then.

He grinned broadly and dropped to one knee as Faith toddled over to him, nearly tripping again as she reached him. "Did ye behave for yer Auntie Mary, then?"

She didn't respond to him, only looped her slight arms around his neck and started to hang from him, giggling all the while.

"Alright then, ye wee fiend," he laughed, scooping her up as he moved to stand.

By now, Mary had appeared at the threshold and greeted him before they all moved into the parlor. Jamie noted that none of the other inhabitants of the house were in the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was abundantly grateful to be able to keep Faith sheltered here, but he had no great desire for the company of near strangers ‒ especially those who looked down their nose at him.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” Mary announced.

“Aye?”

“He’s sending my younger brother to escort me back to my father’s estate.”

Jamie nodded at that, though he wasn’t sure how he should feel. “And how did he take yer news?”

“Oh quite well,” Mary said swiftly. “I knew he would. Of course he wishes I wasn’t so recently widowed, since he’ll have to make arrangements for me to be married again. But there’s no shame in being widowed and with child.”

Jamie took a deep breath, ready to dive in on that comment, but thought better of interfering in her family matters and bit his tongue instead.

“Find everything you were looking for?” Mary asked.

“Oh aye.” Jamie pulled out the fresh ginger he’d purchased. There had been a number of items he’d needed to prepare for the upcoming voyage, but none quite so important as the very thing he held up for Mary to see. “For my seasickness,” he explained and then grinned ruefully. “Canna seem to so much as set foot on a ship wi’out getting sick.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, I’m sure.”

“What will you do with Faith?”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to Faith in his lap and he swallowed roughly. “I dinna have much choice but to pray the ginger tea keeps me standing. I canna afford to get sick.”

Mary fell silent at that, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

But he knew even without her saying it that it was a foolish endeavor. He knew how sick he became on sea voyages and without anyone else with them, he ran the risk of becoming too sick to care for his child. But what other choice did he have?

“I could go with you.”

Mary’s words were spoken so softly, he almost didn’t catch them. His head snapped up and he stared at her. “You canna be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“It’s‒ I mean no offense to ye, Mary. It’s only… well, yer brother is already on his way and‒”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just leave word here with my aunt telling him where we’ve gone. He can follow after and escort me back, same as he intended before.”

“That hardly seems fair to him. How old is the lad?”

Mary hesitated briefly. “George is fifteen, he’s old enough.”

Jamie swore under his breath. “We dinna even know where we’re headed yet. Could be as far as the colonies. And even if ye did accompany us on the journey and instructed yer wee brother to follow us… by time he arrives, ye willna be fit to make the journey again wi’ the bairn coming. You’ll have to have the baby in another country, alone.”

“I’ll be alone no matter where I am,” Mary pointed out and Jamie immediately regretted his words. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in Italy or France, the colonies or my father’s estate.”

Jamie sighed. “I still dinna like the idea. Ye’re finally safe here and under no obligation to help us further. I’m already indebted to ye for getting us this far. No, I couldna ask that of ye.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” Mary straightened her spine. “And it’s… it’s me who’s indebted to you. If you hadn’t come to Inverness, I’d still be‒”

Jamie raised a hand in silent pleading. After all they’d been through since he’d knocked on her door in Inverness, there simply was no keeping score of how they’d aided one another. And he valued her friendship too highly to think of it as mere transactions.

He sighed loudly, hating the idea but seeing that determined look in Mary’s eye.

“Besides,” Mary added, “I’m not really doing this for you.”

He smiled cheerlessly, once again turning his gaze back to the red-headed toddler in his lap. For Claire, she’d said at the start. And it had never escaped his notice just how much Mary risked to repay Claire’s kindness, her friendship. “Well, I thank ye for it. Truly. Ye’re a good friend, Mary Hawkins.”

The evenings were always bittersweet in Edinburgh. It meant putting Faith to bed, a small routine that they’d carved out no matter where they were, and a time that Jamie always treasured. And it also meant once his child was asleep that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, to keep his anguished thoughts at bay.

But before then, his complete attention was always on Faith.

“C’mere, lass.”

He scooped her up and headed toward the nursery where Faith slept. He felt her head rest heavy on his shoulder as they went, and her small hand patted his opposite shoulder gently.

He was helping her change into her nightgown when she sneezed. Three times in quick succession.

“Something tickling yer nose, a nighean?” he said lightly, though his hand went to her forehead and tried to gauge her temperature. Felt normal, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind ‒ Claire’s voice ‒ reminding him that unless the fever was very high, it was often hard to discern if someone had a fever by merely feeling for it.

Faith rubbed her nose with the back of her pudgy hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Christ, I hope ye’re not sick.”

He took her wee face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hairline, then rested his cheek there for a moment. She felt a little warm, but did that mean…?

Faith’s little hands wormed their way between them and pushed his face away. “No’ sick.”

He chuckled and pulled back, startled by her boldness, her certainty. A pint-sized force of nature, even if she was ‒ perhaps ‒ feeling under the weather.

But God in Heaven! He wished Claire was here for this. For all of it with Faith, but especially this. She would know better than him what to do if Faith got sick.

“Ye ready for bed then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No’ yet, Da.”

“Not yet?”

Again, she shook her head, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. The more she learned to talk, the better she became at delaying her dreaded bedtime. She burst into a flood of speech ‒ not much of which was intelligible to Jamie, but she had something to say nonetheless ‒ which ended promptly with the word “story.”

“Ah. Ye’ll be wanting yer bedtime story then, is tha’ it?”

A curt nod from Faith.

“Aye, I can oblige ye there, mo chridhe.”

He stood and watched Faith scurry over to the small bed that was all her own. As was their nightly ritual, he situated Faith off to one side and pulled the covers up for her before carefully easing his six-foot-four frame onto the comically small bed, curled onto his side with his feet hanging over the ledge. A gentle breeze could’ve knocked him backwards off of the bed, but this was what he’d done the first night in this strange house when Faith had been too scared to sleep alone. Now, she slept well enough so long as he was there to tuck her in, give her a story. Once she was asleep, he would move her more towards the center of the bed before he left and retired to his own room.

“What story would ye like tonight, a nighean?”

“My mam?”

He exhaled a laugh. They were always about Faith’s mam. Even while he worried that Faith would never truly know Claire, it couldn’t stop him from wanting to talk about her to Faith. To help her understand the magnitude of Claire’s love for her, and that it wasn’t Claire’s fault that she wasn’t here now with Faith.

“Aye, I can tell ye about yer mam,” Jamie agreed softly. He started as he always did ‒ with a memory of Claire, whatever came to him in the moment. And he’d simply talk for as long as Faith needed, weaving one memory into another until he noticed her eyelids getting heavy, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Ken yer mother was verra canny,” he prefaced his next story, slipping subconsciously into past-tense when he spoke of Claire. “What she didna ken about healing could fit in a shoe. After the Battle of Prestonpans, I was so weary and hurting ‒ got stepped on by a horse that day, ye ken, and och yer mam was furious wi’ me ‒ but I came back into the cottage to watch her, tending to the injured men. She was tireless and so determined…”

When Faith was finally out, he reached over and felt her forehead again, battling a sinking feeling that Faith truly was coming down with an illness. She’d been sniffling and sneezing, but that could be nothing. Or it could be the first sign of something more.

“A Dhia…”

He ached for Claire every minute of the day ‒ needed her like the very breath in his lungs ‒ but he’d never felt so wretchedly helpless without her until this moment. What would he do if Faith became sick?

Panic squeezed his heart in a vice grip. She was all he had now. Faith, still so wee and fragile, was the only thing keeping Jamie from careening off into the dark. And suddenly, he wasn’t even sure he could do this on his own.

He wanted to steal away back to the stones with Faith, to find some way to fix this. She should be with Claire ‒ she should’ve always been with Claire ‒ and it wasn’t right that they had been separated. That Faith couldn’t travel like her mother could.

Since he was a lad, he had a habit of speaking to his departed brother, Willie. Since Willie had been the oldest, he rightly should’ve been laird. So much of Jamie’s life growing up had been the result of Willie’s death. Honors that would normally befall the oldest son passed to Jamie instead, like fostering with his Uncle Dougal or continuing his studies in Paris. This had always been front of mind for Jamie, and when faced with a decision as Laird, he found it only respectful of Willie’s memory to ask his older brother’s thoughts on choices that should’ve been his to make.

Aye, the dead had a way of living with Jamie. He hadn’t only talked to Willie, but to the plovers along the shore, which legend said carried the souls of young mothers lost in childbirth. And he’d done this for years before he lost his da, but never once in the time since Brian Fraser’s death had he spoken to his father.

But suddenly, he found himself longing to pour his heart out to his departed father, in conversations he’d been too hesitant to have with the weight of Jamie’s misplaced guilt over Brian’s death. Suddenly, more than anything, he ached for one last conversation with his da.

“How did ye do it, Athair?” he whispered in the still room the question that had been plaguing him. He was intimately familiar with the pain his father would’ve suffered when his mam died. “How did you keep on living wi’out yer heart?”

The answer was there before him in the sleeping form of Faith. His father had survived for his and Jenny’s sakes, carried them through their grief and gave them hope. And though it felt impossible, though everything within him screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Jamie would do the same for Faith as his father did for him. “I ken now the pain ye were trying to hide, Athair. But ye raised me and Jenny well despite it all. Help me do the same.”

His hand gently brushed over Faith’s wispy curls as he then addressed his sleeping child. “I’ve told ye plenty about yer mam, but nothing of my mam and da. We’ll need tae remedy that. Another time.”

He breathed in deep and then sighed heavily. “My da only ever kent me as a lad. Sometimes I wonder… if he saw me as I am today, would he be proud of me now? Would he approve of who I’ve become? And would I be much different from who I was before... or would he still recognize me as his son?”

His thumb softly stroked at her hair just above her temple before tucking a few wayward locks behind one tiny ear. “But I look at ye, Faith, and… there’s nothing ye could do that would ever change how I love ye. How I’m bursting at the seams with pride o’er ye. And that’s one thing I ken my da would’ve been very proud of,” he shifted slowly and pressed a kiss to Faith’s head before he finally stood, “My bairns.”

It had been a week since they’d found Donas and they still didn’t have a crumb of information for where Jamie and Faith might be.

“Would it have been better to wait at Lallybroch in case he sent word? Before we went trampling across the country in search of him…” Claire wondered aloud.

“That would have taken months to wait for news to arrive.” Murtagh eyed her protruding belly, just starting to appear noticeable to others under all her layers of clothing. “Ye dinna have that kind of time to wait around.”

Claire sighed. “Aren’t we just waiting here, until we find a trace of him? Doesn’t feel much different.”

Murtagh didn’t reply, just made that Scottish sound low in the throat and eased into a chair.

There was a boyish shout from outside and Claire’s gaze flickered over to the window. Fergus was out in the street with another boy, playing some sort of game. She’d told him to go run some energy off after he’d been driving her up a wall all afternoon within the cramped confines of their rented room. They’d had no lead on Jamie even after finding Donas and that had hit Fergus hard. But even worse had been walking away without the horse that Fergus had loved so dearly ‒ all the time wondering why Jamie had sold him in the first place.

“What if they’re already gone from here? How long do we wait ‒ how long can we wait before the money is gone?”

They’d had no collateral of their own to offer up for the horse and even though they had some money ‒ money that they’d carefully skimped and saved during their journey before arriving in Edinburgh ‒ it wouldn’t last forever.

Murtagh grunted softly again. He’d heard her, he just didn’t have an answer.

Claire had even tried offering her services as a healer here when they first arrived. But Edinburgh was a bustling Lowland city, not a remote Highland village, and where those small populations would flock to Claire, the people of Edinburgh turned their nose up at her ‒ a strange woman they had no cause to trust or even to need in a large city such as this. So even the small hope of word getting out to Jamie of a Sassenach woman healer had quickly been dashed.

Her gaze sought out Fergus again and her heart sank in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much more disappointment they could shoulder before it became all too much. Or how much longer they could search before the only obvious solution was to turn home for Lallybroch.

Her hand fell to her belly. Murtagh was right about that at least. They didn’t have all that much time before there would be a baby to consider as well.

The ports had reopened in Edinburgh ‒ but not without British control over what came in and out of the harbor. The sale of Donas helped provide enough to book passage on a ship, but they’d had to be careful in arranging it. Jamie had begun to notice the new broadsheets going up around Edinburgh and among them, one for Red Jamie. No doubt as the dust from Culloden began to settle, his disappearance hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He had followed the captain of a cargo ship recently docked in Edinburgh into a tavern one night. The captain ‒ a Scot through and through ‒ and Jamie swapped tales over drinks well into the night and only once he was sure the good captain had been plied with enough drink to make him amiable did he bring up the request to book passage with him.

“Ye dinna even ken where we’re going,” the captain laughed, his cheeks ruddy from drink.

Jamie laughed too, though he realized he’d made a misstep. That it might sound more suspicious now than if he’d learned of the destination first. Instead he tried to play it off as being cavalier. “Tell ye the truth… it doesna really matter where ye’re going, so long as it’s away from here.”

The captain chuckled and shook his head. They negotiated the price and sealed the deal there at that tavern table. “Write yer names down for me. I’ll have them added to the ship’s manifest. We sail in three days. Dinna be late.”

“And where are we sailing for?” Jamie finally asked.

“Och I thought it didna matter!” The captain roared with laughter again and Jamie reminded himself he couldn’t strike the captain that was giving him a way out of Scotland.

The captain stood to his feet, a bit wobbly at first try. Jamie thought of Mary and how she planned to leave a letter for her brother to be able to follow. How could he follow if he didn’t know where they went?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain clapped him hard on the shoulder and said, “Le Havre, man. We’re only going so far as Le Havre.”

In three days’ time, Jamie, Mary, and Faith were at the docks ‒ Jamie with his hair recently dyed black to cover his roots and Faith with her red hair tucked under a bonnet and then the hood of her cape as a precaution.

They would need to be allowed past by the Redcoat checking the ship’s manifest, the only hurdle standing between them and freedom. And having spoken with the captain that night in the tavern, they couldn’t fall back on their old gimmick of Jamie-as-a-mute. But this was a calculated risk he knew he would take, hoping that the time and miles between here and Culloden would be enough to shed any suspicion that he might be Red Jamie.

“Name?”

He met the eye of the Redcoat staring him down. “Alexandre Beauchamp,” he said evenly, letting a little bit of his admittedly imperfect French accent bleed into his thick Highlander dialect in hopes that it would at least confuse him. Off the surprised look from the man, he added with an easy smile, “I get that look a lot. My father was a Frenchman but my mother a Scot. Ye can see for yerself which side I favored in looks.” He could hide the red hair, but the towering height, the build of a man descended from Vikings… that could not be so easily hidden.

“And your companions?”

“My daughter, Faith Beauchamp, and Mary Hawkins.”

The man’s gaze flicked between Jamie and Mary, and though Jamie’s heart felt as though it might beat right out of his chest, this conversation was flowing exactly as he’d anticipated. They were almost through.

“And your relation to Mistress Hawkins?”

“My late wife’s sister. She’s accompanying me to care for my child.” It wasn’t terribly far from the truth ‒ and it was a necessity now to be able to explain why Faith called her Auntie Mary.

“And your reason for journeying to Le Havre?”

“My father’s family is there. My grandfather is in poor health and I must return.”

The Redcoat looked him in the eye again and Jamie knew what question came next. “And are you a Jacobite or have you ever aided the Jacobites in any way, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No.” He was met with a look of vague suspicion and he mustered every ounce of easy confidence into next words. “I am not nor have I ever been a Jacobite, or a Jacobite sympathizer for that matter. And I never aided their cause in any way. I am loyal to the crown.”

The Redcoat quirked one eyebrow at that and Jamie felt his stomach twisting into knots. “They all say that… now.”

But with a quick jerk of his head, the Redcoat dismissed them. Jamie blinked, stunned for a moment that it had been that easy. Because even without proof… the Redcoats could have treated him any way they wanted. That was their claim as victors. They didn’t need a reason to not let him through and that had been the one variable Jamie couldn’t have planned for ‒ the mercy of a Redcoat.

He shifted Faith to one arm and moved past the man, ushering Mary ahead of him up the gangway to the ship.

“Sir! Wait.”

He froze, hearing the Redcoat’s voice ring out. Mary stopped too and whirled around to look back at him. His hold on Faith tightened and he turned slowly.

The Redcoat stared at him curiously.

Jamie forced a smile. “Have I forgotten something?”

“As a matter of fact…” the man held out his hand. In his palm was Sawny, which Jamie had given to Faith to keep her occupied. She must’ve dropped it.

“Ah. I thank ye, Corporal.” He grabbed Sawny and handed it back to Faith. “I would’ve had a verra unhappy child on my hands had that been left behind.”

He wasted no time waiting for a response and turned with Faith to head back up the gangway where Mary still stood. “Let’s go,” he uttered under his breath when they reached her. The sooner they could be at sea, the safer he would feel.

What he hadn’t expected to feel was the loss.

He held Faith in his arms as he stood by the railing and watched Edinburgh fade farther and farther away. Watched his homeland fade away, knowing they’d likely never return.

“Christ,” he muttered, blinking fast against the unexpected sting of tears.

Faith stretched her arm out in front of her, towards land, and waved.

“Ye saying goodbye, a leannan?”

“G’bye,” she echoed in a soft, song-like voice.

Ah but he would do it all again in a heartbeat for her, no matter the cost. It was always for her, for her wellbeing and chance at a happy life.

She grinned up at him ‒ not a trace of sickness, though they’d dealt with the sneezing and runny nose for a few days before she was back to her usual self. “Ken you’re mine, a nighean, but ye dinna have to rub my nose in it that yer stomach is as hearty as a sailor’s,” he teased her before moving below deck, where Mary was waiting. His stomach was already rolling and it was only a matter of time…

July 1746

Claire was writing a letter to Jenny ‒ an update without much news, but she still wanted to keep Jenny apprised ‒ when Murtagh burst into the room, startling her violently.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without giving her much time to recover, he dove breathlessly into the reason for his unsettling arrival.

“I just spoke with a deckhand down at the docks, just come back from Le Havre.” Murtagh’s eyes were aglow and Claire tried to temper the hope buoying in her chest. “He said he remembers someone that looked like Jamie who booked passage on the ship last time they came through here. Said he was sick as a dog the whole trip… and he had a wee lass with him.”

Claire was trembling and her simple question came out in a frantic whisper. “When?”

Murtagh smiled broadly, his chest still heaving as he tried to get the words out without stopping for a breath. “Just last month. They’re in France, a nighean. We found them.”

She hardly recalled how she went from sitting at the desk to being wrapped up in an almost painful hug from Murtagh, shouting with joy to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“What’s going on?”

She pulled away from Murtagh to see Fergus enter the room, concern etched into his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face even as her vision misted over with tears. Not just for her joy of being reunited with Jamie and Faith, but for Fergus’s as well. “Murtagh found them, love. We’re going home!”

When Fergus ran to embrace her, she nearly stumbled backwards from the impact of it. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight, rocking slightly.

“We’re going home.”

“D’ye have everything then, Mary?”

“I believe so.”

Jamie turned to help Mary up into the carriage. Upon arriving in France, they’d gone first to Jamie’s Uncle Alexander at the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, that being the closest and safest place to turn to. Jamie and Faith meant to stay on at the abbey a bit longer, but Mary needed to return to Paris, to her aunt and uncle who would welcome her into their home until her younger brother arrived.

“Wait. No. I did forget something in my room.” Mary turned and stepped down from the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s alright, lass. We have time.”

“Jamie!”

He turned to find his uncle exiting the abbey, making a path towards him. “Aye?”

“We’re expecting a delivery to the abbey today. Could you help them unload when it arrives?”

“Aye of course.”

It wasn’t long after his uncle had left him that he noticed the wagon jolting down the dirt road towards the abbey.

Nobody saw what spooked the horse pulling the wagon as it neared the carriage.

It happened too fast, the one horse trying to buck itself free of the wagon, and the team of horses hitched to the carriage panicking as a result.

One moment, Jamie was standing beside a carriage and the next, he was flat on his back with a searing pain in his leg and a crushing weight pinning his body down.

And then it all went black.

#jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fic #faith fraser #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #my fic #OL fic

75 notes · View notes

authorialarcanist · 3 years ago

Text

It Seems I'll Never Understand (Kagerou Project)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Tateyama Ayano x Kisaragi Shintaro

Summary: "...Hey, Shintaro. Why'd you do it? I mean... You could have stayed out of it. It wasn't your fight."

In a world where Shintaro Kisaragi was the one who killed himself on that fateful august day two years prior, Ayano isn't sure what she can do with her life. Living in fear of the Snake of Clearing Eyes, all she can do is think back on the past, and wonder - why it was that her best friend took her place when she's sure he must have hated her, and when was it that it all went wrong.

Shinaya roleswap with a focus on making it work with as few changes to canon as possible.

---

It’s late - late enough that it’s gotten truly dark out. I’m walking along the road to my home, a boy next to me. The bridge we’re crossing seems to stretch out endlessly into the distance, illuminated only by the moon and the street-lamps we’re passing by.

I fiddle with my scarf absentmindedly as I steal a glance at his face. I’m so glad… I was finally able to become friends with him. Or, well… maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word just yet. To him, I’m sure I’m still just that stupid girl who made him tutor her for hours after class.

Still… I tell myself that this is the most important first step. Mm-hm. Now that I’ve introduced myself, I’m sure that we’ll be friends - real friends - in no time at all.

“You really saved my life! I never would’ve been able to finish that problem set on my own.” I grin weakly as my babbling inevitably turns to self-deprecation. Ah, well… after my terrible performance back there, trying to act cool for my new friend was a lost cause already. Well, if this was a manga, at least this might be the part where the aloof genius breaks character to reassure me that I can do it?

“Even with my help, it took you way too long…” He sighs. “Geez. I only came here to get my wallet, too. I must be really unlucky.”

—Yeah, right. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours now, but it’s pretty obvious that tender support isn’t his strong suit.

“I really am sorry…” I shrink a little under his criticism. “But! I promise, I won’t forget about today!”

“What are you saying? Didn’t you just say you forget things no matter how much you study?” Ow… I guess I did say that, but… he really has no faith in me at all, huh?

But he just doesn’t get it! Not quite panicking, I redouble my efforts to explain myself. “Today’s special! I’m going to try extra hard not to forget, so it’ll be okay!”

He hums in contemplation and stares away into the distance. And then—

—“Liar.”

I recoil from the sudden accusation. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve broken your promise already, haven’t you? You can’t even remember my name.”

He picks up his pace, and though I try to follow, I can’t seem to move forward.

“Huh? Of course I can!”

“Really? Then why haven’t you said it?”

“Why are you so focused on that all of a sudden?”

“Say it, Ayano.”

“Stop it!”

“Say my name.”

“I— You’re—“ Tears spill from my eyes. I’m trying to say it. Why — why is this happening? Why couldn’t we just keep walking together, chatting about nothing important, like friends do?

“…Yeah. I thought so.” He stops walking, and for some reason, I freeze as well. I have no choice but to watch his back as he speaks. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But… Try to remember, okay?”

He turns to face me again.

His eyes are red.

“If you can’t remember soon, then—“

——

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three hesitant raps on my door.

The sound wakes me from my dream. Already, it’s growing too hazy to remember. All I can say for certain is that hewas there.

He’s always there in my dreams. Maybe it’s some cruel balance for the fact that he’ll never be there again in real life.

“Ayano?”

At the sound of the voice calling for me, I turn over in my bed and bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound to indicate that I’m awake.

“Ayano, please, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

I don’t respond. My father is dead. That’s the best way to think of it. The safest way to think of it. Even when the snake lets him out, it’s only in the hopes of getting me to snap.

“Ayano, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best father to you, since your mother died. But please, I just want to know what happened. What happened to Shuuya and Tsubomi and Kousuke. Why you won’t talk to me. Ayano, please.”

My hands clench against the pillow. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Ayano…”

In.

Out.

“…Just… think about it, okay? I’m here, if you’re ever ready to talk. Even if you need another two years, I’ll still be here.”

A lie. Dad won’t be here. Just the snake.

“…I love you.”

I stay silent, waiting until the sound of footsteps fades from my hearing. No matter how many times I go through this, it never gets any easier. But… I can’t talk to him.

Even if the snake wasn’t privy to his every thought, I can’t bring myself to speak with the man who sold my world.

“…Is… he gone?” A tinny voice whispers from my computer’s speaker.

I listen for a moment. When nothing happens, I nod. “Yeah.”

My computer monitor lights up as it exits sleep mode, and a girl in blue peeks out from her hiding place behind a browser window. “…I still don’t understand why you don’t leave here, Ayano-chan…”

I shake my head. “I… I just can’t. I’m sorry, Ene.” Ene… that’s what this girl calls herself. About a year ago, she popped out of an email and decided to stick around. She tried to put on this sassy, hyper front at first, but it fell apart pretty quickly.

I’m pretty sure I know who she really is, after all. And she knows I know. I just haven’t been cruel enough to push the topic.

It’s not like she has much of anywhere else to go, after all.

“…Okay. I get it.” She looks down at the taskbar and pokes her index fingers together. “Just… hang in there, okay, Ayano-chan? Do your best.”

“Like my best has ever mattered,” I mumble, and sit down at my computer chair. To be honest, my activities since dropping out of school two years ago have been nothing, nothing, and a heaping dessert of nothing. It’s not like I have any sort of online life to speak of, even. It’s just that… ultimately, there’s nothing else to do when I’m living under the same roof as my father. I can’t risk going outside at the wrong time and having to face him. At least he respects the boundaries of my room; and the snake finds it convenient to leave me a sanctuary under his supervision for as long as he doesn’t have any need of me.

“…So, um… Ayano-chan?” Ene glances up at me, a little shyly. “Can I ask about whether…”

Ah. That. I shake my head. “…I’m sorry. I’ve tried talking to him while my father was away, but Konoha really doesn’t seem to remember anything about us.” Konoha… the white-haired boy the Clearing Eyes took in really is just another reminder of my failures. Still, I know that’s not hisfault, and I can’t really blame Ene for being too scared to check up on him herself. Talking to him hurts badly enough for me, and I still hadn’t been quite as close to Haruka as she was. Honestly though, whenever I’d felt safe enough to slip out and check on him, Konoha had seemed pretty nonresponsive. Forget remembering me and Ene; he didn’t seem to remember anything, not even basic things like rain.

“I see…” Ene droops. This happens every time she brings up Konoha; as much as she’s tried to be around for me, I don’t have the first idea how to comfort her when this topic comes up.

Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m in a place to be comforting much of anyone. Back when I tried all those years ago, it only ended in pain.

In the end, I go with the tried and true method of pretending I didn’t see anything. When there’s nothing you can do, acknowledging the problem only ends in more tears, after all. I pass the day mindlessly browsing the web and making more paper cranes for the army that chokes every available surface in my room. Occasionally, I can’t help but fantasize about what things might be like if I had Paper-Animating Eyes. Sending an army of little origami birds to get revenge on the Clearing Eyes… it’d definitely be a more efficient way of getting a wish granted.

Ah well.

At least my father has work during the day and the snake has better things to do than waste time in this lonely house during the nighttime, so I’m able to check on Konoha and grab something from the kitchen for lunch on most days. That’s particularly important, because dinner can be much more spotty, depending on whether my father is in a “bury his problems in work” mood or a “try desperately to be present to make up for selling his soul to an evil snake” one. Well, okay, I really don’t know how much he’s able to retain about what the Clearing Eyes does when in control of his body, but if he really is oblivious about everything that might actually be worse.

Unfortunately he seems to be in a “try to atone” cycle right now, so I’m running off of a single meal when the knocks return once again.

“Ayano.”

Ene hides behind the browser window again, and I click off of the tab showing a video of a mongoose taking down a snake.

…What? Look, I have to deal with the spite somehow.

“I know you’re in there.”

I stay silent.

“I’ve got another mission for you, Ayano. You know the deal by now.”

I freeze. This isn’t dad.

“I trust I don’t need to spell it out for you?”

It’s the other one.

“I’m waiting.Or is this some pathetic attempt at rebellion? If so, I have to applaud. It’s the most pointless one yet.”

I finally find my voice. “I-I understand.”

“Heh. Good.” The snake chuckles. “Two children are coming to stay in this house soon. Your father’s sister-in-law, and some hanger-on. When they’re here, you’re going to be the model of a big sister, understand? Get them to trust you, and then make sure they’re in a certain place on August fifteenth.”

I shrink in on myself. Children? Please, no…

“I said, understand?You know what’ll happen to your family if you refuse…”

“N-no!” I shoot to my feet in panic. “No… I understand…”

“Good.” What should be my father’s voice drips with malice. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Goodbye, Ayano.” Saying the last two words in an odd sing-song voice, the snake leaves. I collapse back into my chair, hugging myself.

“A-ayano-chan…” Ene peeks back out from her hiding spot.

I turn to her with wide eyes.

“Ayano-chan, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can fight back. I’ll help you.”

…If only. But no, I know it’s hopeless.

I can’t fight the snake. All I can do is delay the inevitable.

I shake my head, and start disconnecting the speakers from my computer. If Ene tried to do something brave, and the Clearing Eyes found out…

“…Ayano, please…”

I pull the plug on my monitor. Ene may still have access to the inside of my computer, but the most she’ll be able to do in the house is open and close the CD drive.

“…sorry…” I whisper quietly to myself, even though I know she can’t hear me.

God, how did things turn out this way?

——

I have many precious memories, moments I’ve spent these past two years trying desperately not to forget. Reading storybooks at bedtime with my mom. Meeting my little siblings for the first time. The way my dad’s face used to look when he’d play with us, long before everything happened.

If you were to look through those treasured days, flipping from one to another as though they were files secreted away in a lockbox, one might still stand out from the rest. Perhaps it’s laminated, or hidden behind a false back. Not because it’s more precious than the others - I wouldn’t trade my family for anything - but because it’s unique nonetheless. A moment elevated in its rarity, and in the pain it brings me - not the dull ache of my mom’s face, nor the stabbing betrayal of my father’s failures and mine, but a gaping void of ‘what if’s.

The first time I ever got to see Shintaro smile.

It was during our second year of middle school, a couple months after the day I finally introduced myself. The last test I’d gotten back had been my lowest score yet, and with exams rushing to meet me, I was honestly in a panic.

But then, Shintaro’d spoken up. For the very first time, he gave me a totally unprompted offer to help me study.

“Thank you so much,” I’d sobbed. “I don’t know what I was gonna do…”

“Ugh, don’t be annoying about it!” He’d refused to meet my eyes as he grumbled. “I just know that if you failed your exams I’d somehow get dragged into helping you catch back up. It’s just easier to get this over with this early, alright?”

Whatever his stated reasons, I still felt like I’d been saved when he stuck around to help me pound the latest lessons into my skull. And I don’t know if we finished faster than usual, if something good had happened to him at home, or if his guard was just down that day for some other reason, but one way or another, he decided to stick around and chat for a bit afterwards.

I can still picture it clearly. That sunny classroom, me perched on my desk to bask in the light from the window, him leaning his chair back as we killed time… and the glint of light that drew my eye to the spine of a book just peeking out of his bag.

“Hm? Hey, Shintaro?”

“What?” He glanced lazily back at me.

I tilted my head to read what I could from the spine. It rung a bell; I’d overheard some of the other girls in our class talking about it from time to time. “Isn’t that ‘Let’s Fall In Love’?”

“HUH?” I winced at the sudden crash as Shintaro lost his balance and fell in a heap.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” I rushed to help him up, but he just scrambled back until he was pressed against the wall.

“W-w-w-what are you talking about? I-I don’t, I mean, that’s not—“ Shintaro grabbed suddenly for his bag, but his hand missed its mark and sent the contents spilling out as it toppled over instead. The book landed face up, its cover proudly displaying a drawing of a boy and a girl standing together in a very shoujo-esque artstyle. Emblazoned above the picture was ‘Let’s Fall in Love ~ by Yumeno Sakiko.’

“Umm…”

“I mean! It’s Momo’s! Yeah! My little sister wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I picked up her copy for her, uh-huh! I definitely don’t read shoujo manga!” His stuttering picked up pace as he scrambled for excuses, and I couldn’t help it - some part of me kinda wanted to watch him squirm for a little longer.

So, I grinned slyly and searched my memory of my classmates’ conversations. “Uh-huh? You know, with how Mamiko and Oze were talking in the latest chapter, don’t you think there might be a chance they’ll—“

“THAT’S HERESY!” Shintaro slammed his hands down on the ground, and I winced at the sudden spike in volume. “Mamiko and Suzuki are meantto be together!” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “I can’t imagine how anyone would think otherwise after that moment in volume 7! And anyways, Oze and Waka may be having a fight right now, but everyone… knows…” He trailed off as my control failed me and I started to giggle. “…Fine. You caught me. Happy now?”

At the sight of him forcing down a pout and struggling to regain a serious expression, I laughed even harder.

“…So I like shoujo manga. Is it really that funny to you?”

“No, no! I’m sorry!” I did my best to get myself under control. “It’s not that, honestly. You just looked so earnest, and then you kept trying to hide it… If reading that sort of thing makes you happy, then I think that’s a goodthing! It’s actually kinda c—“ I suddenly realized what I was about to say, and blushed heavily. “—I mean, it’s kinda cool! Yeah! You shouldn’t worry what other people will think about your interests, you know?” Oh yeah, that was an absolutely stellarsave, Ayano. Absolutely nobody was gonna suspect that you almost called your classmate ‘cute’ without thinking. Aside from, I dunno, people with eyes.

Thankfully, all of that intelligence must have come out of Shintaro’s perceptiveness instead, because he let it pass without comment. “So…” Shintaro seemed to be looking anywhere in the room other than my face, which might have helped the whole ‘not noticing my face doing a bonfire impression’ thing. “Do… you also read it, then?”

“Huh?”

“Y, you know! ‘Let’s Fall in Love’!”

“A, ah! Right!” I snapped out of my thoughts. Right, let’s just pretend that slip never happened for now, and I can unpack whatever the heck it meant on my own time, when I won’t make my one school friend think I’m even more of a weirdo than he already does. “Ehehe… Not really, actually.” I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. “I was just parroting something I overheard. I’m more into the shounen stuff, you know? Hot-blooded super sentai fighting to save the world, and all that.”

“Really? But they’re so formulaic. You can see everything coming from a mile away. And how do those guys get through posing dressed like that and not die of embarrassment?”

Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take that. “What? Hold on a moment, like your mushy stuff is any better! Aren’t they all just ‘boy meets girl, cue nothing happening for the rest of their school lives’?”

“Wh— they are not!There’s nuanceand relationship growth and everything!” Woah. Shintaro was looking about the most fired up I’d ever seen him! At that thought, an idea clicked in my head.

“Hmm… Alright, then!” I grinned at him and gave a sharply enunciated chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “Why don’t you tell me more about this series, and if you manage to change my mind I’ll give reading it a try? And then, in return, you’ll watch an episode of Engine Sentai Go-Onger with me, and we’ll see how you feel about heroes after that!”

Shintaro rose to the challenge. “Fine! Come on then, I’ll teach you about why Yumeno-sensei is a master! I mean, her portrayal of Mamiko’s inner struggles alone touches the heart, even for a boy like me! There’s this moment in chapter 12 when she…” He lit up as he talked, gesturing wildly with the plot points. I’m a little ashamed to say that I actually stopped paying attention after a few moments, because my focus suddenly seemed drawn to his face. He was grinning - actually grinning, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in, well, ever- as he opened up about his interest.

I can only remember thinking two things as we walked home that day.

The first was, ‘What a pretty smile.’

The second was, ‘…oh. Crap.’

…So, yeah. It looked like I maybe had a teeny little crush. That was okay! It was fine! It meant I was finally starting to grow up, right? Anyways, whatever Shintaro’s romance manga said, I was pretty sure that people were supposed to get a lot of those with time. They didn’t have to mean anything, or, y’know, gamble their only real non-family friendships on the chance that someone who was really smart and cute would still want to hang out with a dumb girl they barely tolerated helping out if she asked.

Not a problem! I’d just go about my life as normal, and it’d fade in time. Eventually, I’d probably look back on this day and laugh.

…And if in the meantime, I wanted to see him smiling like that again? Well, that could be my little secret.

——

Of course, let nobody accuse me of being a good planner. Obviously, the darn thing only seemed to get stronger with time. Wanting to see Shintaro smile because I wanted him to be happy slowly morphed into wanting to be the reasonhe was smiling like that. Hoping that maybe, if I could be the one to make this lonely boy smile, that’d mean I was actually worth somethingreally the hero I pretended to be.

Mom died, and I had to be the strength for the whole family as dad seemed like half his world had gone missing, but no matter how much I needed comfort of my own, I wasn’t ready to tell him.

We met Takane and Haruka, and one friend turned into three, but even though I’d only be gambling 33% instead of 100, I was still too scared to tell him.

And then I found out that dad had changed, what the thing in his body had planned for Haruka and Takane and my siblings, and suddenly my stupid little feelings didn’t seem so important. I had to research the read eyes, and I needed Shuuya to cover for me, and in the end I didn’t have the attention to spare for my friend my crush my…

…for Shintaro. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice our growing distant. Why I didn’t notice things growing strained.

Why I didn’t notice that I really was just burdening him with my own expectations.

Didn’t notice until a hill at sunset, a hand snatched away, his back receding into the distance while I stood alone.

After that, I wondered about a lot of things. How much had been genuine, and how much really had just been putting up with me. How much of my motives had been pure, and how much had been that dark little thrill of seeing him down and feeling like I was still needed.

How cruel it must have been, to plan what I was planning and still try to hold onto his hand until the last minute.

So I didn’t try again. I delegated as much school time as I could to Shuuya (and carefully didn’t wonder why his face was growing more stressed, why his own time seemed to draw thin.) I withdrew further, and dedicated everything I had to my lonely mission. August fifteenth came all too soon at last, and I shoved my responsibilities onto Takane, told her to be honest with her feelings even as I swore that my own were better ignored. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, the colour of a hero, I steeled myself and turned to mount the stairs, and I was interrupted.

“Shuuya? What are you doing?” My little brother had arrived in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“N, neechan, please!” Panting, Shuuya raised his eyes to meet mine. They glistened with tears. “You have to— you have to stop Shintaro-kun! He’s about to do something really stupid!”

“Huh?” I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s already gone to the roof! I couldn’t do anything! Neechan, please!”

“The roof?” I still didn’t understand, but I burst into a run anyways, leaving my brother behind. Why was Shintaro even here today, when he didn’t need summer school? Why did Shuuya know about it? What could he be doing on the roof, other than…?

He wasn’t involved. God, please, he wasn’t involved, why was he here?

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain shooting through my lungs, and had no choice but to stop for breath and lean against the wall for a moment when I finally reached the door leading outside.

My father’s voice filtered in from outside. No - not my father. The thingwearing his skin. “Honestly, kid.” He sounded mildly exasperated, like my dad did whenever a student had turned in a particularly baffling answer on a quiz. “You think that you’re gonna be the big damn hero? You really think there’s a single thing you can do here to beat me?”

“No.” Shintaro, this time. “Honestly, it’s a stupid plan. Totally useless in every way. But hey.” A dark chuckle. “Objectively speaking, the life of a rotten boy like me is just worthless enough to make it worth trying.”

I’d finally caught my breath, but at that it caught in my throat. Did he mean—

I burst through the door, screaming, “Shintaro, NO!” The roof was empty except for two people. My father, standing on solid ground looking mildly vexed. And Shintaro, clad in that red jersey I’d said I liked, the color of a hero, sitting perched half-on the fence around the edge of the roof and half dangling over open air.

His eyes met mine, and no matter how hard I try I know I’ll never forget the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes darkened, or the words he said to me at that moment.

“…Oh.

“Ayano.

“The very last person I wanted to see.”

His final curse delivered, he leaned back. The world distorted around him, horrible discordant red tearing open fangs in the sky.

And he fell.

I must have screamed, but it’s a blur. I just know that by the time I came to, I’d fallen on my knees, and the thing that took my father was laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha! You kids never fail to surprise me, you know that? I never once would have expected that depressing little thing to get up off his ass and do something like this!” He paused. “Well okay, I guess I would, but the part where he tried to stand up to me was still new.”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d jumped to my feet and was tackling him. “SHUT UP!”

“Whoops!” Somehow, my father’s body stepped out of the way before I could react. I found myself impacting concrete and rolling on the roof, scrapes all over my body where I’d fallen. “Come on, brat. You’re a big girl now, you should be used to hearing swear words by now. Or wait, are you angry about the boy?”

With a wordless scream, I threw myself at him again, but this time he casually stuck out a leg and tripped me.

“You might still have time to save him, you know. Throw yourself off the roof after him, and maybe you could convince him to come on out and bring me that snake he stole.” He sneered. “Of course, it’d mean making this whole little sacrifice play all for nothing. And this guy” he tapped the side of my father’s head, “might even willingly help me kill the brat if you did! Oh, now thatdespair would be delicious to see.”

I swallowed the pain as my fists clenched, scraped raw though they were. “…Shut up. You… you’re just trying to convince me because you know your plan’s finished. You can’t gather the snakes now. There’s no… no more reason to kill Takane and Haruka, or the others.”

*snrk.* The monster covered his mouth with a hand.

“What’s supposed to be so funny?”

“Ha! Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just… you think this kid managed to save your friends? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “He was too late. They’re already dead.” He shrugged and continued in a sing-song voice. “And anyways, the boy was a goner already. You should be thankingme; this way, at least he has a chanceof living for another year or two.”

“W…what…?” I slumped, the fight draining from my veins. No. It couldn’t be. Takane and Haruka… they were gone, too?

My “father” walked up to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. To anyone watching, it might have just looked like a father comforting his daughter; but I could feel his fingers dig into my flesh in a vice grip. “Still, working this all back out from the top is going to be a pain. And that’s not even counting all of the cleanup I have to do! It’s one thing for those other two kids; I’d made preparations for them. But spinning the sudden disappearance of this brat, too? No, that’s far too much work.” He crouched down until he was level with me, a too-wide smile on his face. A shiver ran down my spine. “So, Ayano.I’m going to have you do me a little favor, alright? And before you consider trying to do something brave, consider just who it is that has your family’s life in his hands, hmm? Don’t say anything; just nod.” I nodded, stricken. Everything I’d planned had come to nothing in a few short minutes. “You’re going to find Shuuya for me, and you’re going to have him go make himself look like this guy -“ he waved vaguely at the empty edge of the roof - “’s body for me. A suicide should be easy enough to explain away. Especially when the victim was as gloomy-looking as this asshole here. Honestly, people’re gonna think it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.” My fists clenched again at relentless slander, but there was nothing I could do. I was totally and utterly defeated. “You got it, Ayano? Do this, and I’ll let the people you care about live a little longer.” He chuckled. “…Well, what’s left of them, at least. Hahahaha!”

How could I have ever thought I could be a hero? All I’d managed to do was arrive too late to save either of the snake’s intended victims, and drag a bystander to his death in the process.

In the end, tears streaming down my face, all I could do was nod.

——

“Neechan!” Shuuya rushed up to me the minute I exited the school. He grabbed my hands - I didn’t resist - and gasped at the scrapes all over them. “What happened to you? Where’s Shintaro-kun?”

“Shintaro— He’s—“ My voice caught.

“Nee…chan…?” I could see the exact moment Shuuya caught on. His eyes widened and his face fell, all in one motion. “Dammit! And just when the guy starts to convince me he’s not all bad, he has to go and do something like this…” His hands tightened involuntarily around mine, but I couldn’t even find the energy to wince.

I spoke in a flat voice, forcing myself to put one word in front of the next. “Shuuya. There’s something very important I need you to do.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to use your power to turn into Shintaro. Let somebody discover ‘his’ body, so there’ll be a record. If you don’t, then… then he’ll…” My voice caught again, but I forced myself to continue before Shuuya could ask any questions. “And then there’s one more thing you need to do. I need you to take Tsubomi and Kousuke, and go away. Go somewhere far away from here, and don’t— don’t tell me anything about where you’re going. You can’t contact me at all, okay? I can’t have any way to find out more about you.”

“W—what?”

“It’s the only way that you’re going to be safe. I… we can’t stop the Clearing Eyes. He can have you all killed in a moment.”

Shuuya must have been able to see the seriousness in my eyes, because he didn’t try to debate the point. “Okay, but… Why can’t you come with us? We can all run, that’ll be safer!”

I just shook my head. “…No. He… he’ll find me, somehow. He knew how to respond to everything that I tried. Anything I do… no matter what, I’m sure he’ll…” I hugged myself and started slowly walking towards the path home. It was clear to me now. I was nothing more than a puppet dancing on the Clearing Eyes’ strings.

“W-wait, Neechan! Come back!”

“Goodbye, Shuuya. Please don’t forget to do what I told you. Consider it… My final request as your sister.”

“NEECHAN!”

——

“…Hey, Shintaro. Why’d you do it?”

I lie on my back, staring at the empty ceiling as I talk to the air.

“I mean… You could have stayed out of it. It wasn’t your fight.”

The cranes crowding every surface above me seem to swirl and distort, like a heat haze.

My head keeps playing his final moments on repeat. Even as the happy days grow dimmer and dimmer, I can’t seem to forget his last words no matter how hard I try.

‘The very last person I wanted to see.’

“If… if you hated me so much, why didn’t you just let me be the one to jump? Why take my place?”

I wonder… if I’d been the one to jump that day, would he have been able to do what I couldn’t? I indulge in a brief fantasy of Shintaro, red jacket flapping behind him, standing tall with my siblings as they face down the Clearing Eyes together.

…Somehow, I just can’t see it. Sorry, Shintaro.

‘The life of a rotten boy like me is worthless’

“…Did you hate yourselfthat much? Were you so sick of life that you grabbed the first excuse you could find?”

…Maybe. But… somehow, as much as he tried to shut the world out, I can’t help but see Shintaro as someone who was brimming with life underneath it all. At the very least, whenever he talked about his sister, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave her.

The thought of Momo-chan makes me wince. Another memory, this time of her crying and screaming at me when I’d tried to comfort her.

When I’d broken down and sobbed that it was all my fault.

I can’t blame her for hating me. To be honest, I wonder if it wasn’t what I was secretly hoping for.

Just another case where Ayano’s self-satisfaction came before actually doing her job.

My alarm clock rings. I’d set it instead of my phone, to make sure Ene couldn’t try and be a hero. (I can’t help but hope that she’s given up on me, and found her way to somebody who’ll be a better friend.) It means that the children…

…my victims…

…should be arriving soon.

I push myself to my feet. In the end, even blaming myself is just pointless self-satisfaction. I’ve made the choice to play this role; I made the decision that these two children were worth less than the family I know and care about.

It doesn’t take too long to get myself presentable. I choose an outfit that looks like its owner hasn’t been in hiding for the last two years, and glance at my scarf, hanging wrinkled and dusty on a hook.

My hands shake.

And I turn away without touching it. I don’t deserve to wear that color.

Not when red is the color of blood.

“Sorry, Shintaro. Guess you made the wrong trade, in the end. Even a genius like you makes mistakes, huh?”

With that snide remark, I turn my back on his sacrifice and walk out into the house.

…Still, a thought flits across my mind.

—Ah, I would have liked to see that smile, just one more time.

The doorbell rings. It’s time.

I hide my feelings behind a smile, painting it from ear to ear.

And I open the front door.

#kagerou project #tateyama ayano #kisaragi shintaro #fanfiction #shinaya #suicide cw #angst #i promise future fics for this series will be happier once i'm ready to write them #happy kagepro day!

22 notes · View notes

lavenderboneswrites · 3 years ago

Note

Pirate Shizaya headcannons. I preferably love the idea of Izaya being a coordinator that Shizuo has practically kidnapped because Shizuo held the damn map upside down and is know lost(he is the captain) also I love everything u do

Aaah okay I had to think long and hard about this because really I have TOO many ideas. I’ll preface this with saying that the Golden Age of Piracy actually coincides with the Edo period of Japan where the country was ruled by the Shogunate and was generally closed to outside politics, influences, etc. So with these two periods overlapping there is so much room to play with. I for one am losing my mind about samurai pirates.

Orihara Izaya, Captain of the Dragon Zombie Pirates.

Alright alright. So I think Izaya was probably born in a noble and well respected samurai family of Japan. However this boy craved adventure and to the see the world and to meet all that it had to offer. Not a fan of Japan’s anti-foreign involvement (open the country, stop having it be closed), he led a group of revolutionaries out of Japan to the seas.

During this time I can definitely see Izaya finding his way onto a pirate ship and manipulating everyone in sight until there’s a mutiny and he becomes the new captain, because of course that’s what our boy would do.

However despite this, and after proving his worth, his intelligence, his skill, I think his crew would be fiercely loyal to him. I can see him keeping a few of his original Japanese crew around too. I think Mikado would be his right hand man, Mikage and Ran his enforcers, Shinra the ships doctor, and his childhood friend who followed him out to see in search of ‘true love’. Simon I can see maybe as the quartermaster, I think he’d be good at rallying the crew. Overall I think there would be a mismatch of people from all over the world, because Izaya loves picking up strays.

Izaya is a cunning and intelligent captain. He uses wit and no small degree of charm to achieve his goals. He's fascinated by the occult, especially myths and legends. I feel like he'd love to hunt for the fountain of youth and see the kraken with his own eyes. He dreams of bigger prizes than just the usual gold.

Izaya is showy af and definitely has all the flashy pirate coats, not mention a penchant for ridiculous hats (Captain Barbossa’s hat anyone? And all the tricorns). I think he’d be an adequate warrior, trained with a samurai sword, but his weapons of choice are two daggers and close range where he can use speed, agility, and intelligence to outwit his opponents. (I imagine he fights like Anne Bonney, who I love, from Black Sails). I also kind of think he’d be a pirate like Calico Jack Rackham (also from Black Sails, look I love BS there’s gonna be a lot of BS references). Also our boy is talented as parkour and can parkour around a ship like a motherfucker (thank you Black Flag).

Heiwajima Shizuo, Monster of Caribbean, Captain of the Beast Pirates*.

Shizuo is a powerhouse in the pirate world. Where Izaya is all brains and cunning, Shizuo is brute strength. I actually like to head canon that his violent ways got him cast into indentured servitude and he was sold off across the seas and ended up in the Caribbean. Due to his strength he made a good labourer for the British but also fuck the redcoats. I think Shizuo would have led a revolt against the slavers and started his own pirate crew after that. He would’ve given his fellow slaves the option to go where they want or join his crew and a few probably did.

Tom’s of course his right hand man, they are brother’s in arms and have fought many battles together. I think Vorona would be a good enforcer and I definitely want Kadota to be his quartermaster (with the rest of the van gang on the crew as well - those four are a fierce raiding party). Though Shizuo is 100% hopeless at navigating so he's gonna need a good one on board.

Shizuo is definitely a brawler with his insane strength, and the thought of his weapon of choice being this fuck off massive Warhammer is just too good to pass up. I want Shizuo bare chested with high-waisted pants, pirate boots, half shaved head, long blonde hair in braids basically just looking like an absolute barbarian beefcake. ALL THE TATTOOS. He is the definition of a rough, fierce pirate.

He likes hunting prizes and spending his gold on drinking, gambling, and fucking, really any pleasure he’s for, but his favourite thing is a good old fashioned fight. I think he'd do very well in slave fighting pits and probably even had some experience with them in the past. Though he is adamantly against slavery and has been known to hunt slavers and free slaves (any pirate who engages in trading slaves is not considered a pirate to him but a blight to be obliterated from the map). Because of his past he absolutely despises the British and really any kind of authority. While not on Izaya’s level of intelligence he’s got great instincts and can almost seemingly sniff out a good prize.

* don't sue me Oda

Rival Captains

Izaya and Shizuo both meet in Nassau in the Caribbean. They are the definition of brains VS brawns. These two crews are always running into each other and fighting. While Shizuo is ferocious and terrifying, when in the same room as these two pirates one would consider Izaya more menacing. Shizuo's and Izaya's rivalry is well known throughout the seas and seeing them fight in person is the stuff of legends.

They're constantly going after the same prizes and then fighting over them. Though there are a few times they do team up for an alliance when it's a very delectable prize. Also they will unanimously team up against the British, the Spaniards, the French, the Dutch, etc, because as much as the loathe each other they hate anyone who would try and encroach on their freedoms.

Basically they are both stubborn as hell and don't like being told what to do.

For their ships I can see Izaya having a Brigard, something swift, that at Izaya's hand can outmanoeuvre and outwit any foe. Of course his ship has a dragon as the figurehead! I haven't thought much in the way of a Jolly Rodger, but maybe a dragon skull and instead of crossbones it is crossed samurai swords??

Shizuo on the other hand has a British Man-O-War that he no doubt won after he and Izaya teamed up to launch an attack on British settlement when both their crew-mates were captured and sentenced to death for piracy. Izaya lead an assault on land while Shizuo and his crew snuck onto the Man-O-War in the port and captured it, then turned it's guns on the settlement. For his jolly rodger I think it would be the usual skull and crossbones with maybe his infamous Warhammer running through the center line.

The sexual tension between the two captains is a painful to watch for their crews and each crew even has a betting pool going on when they will eventually get it on. The crews actually get on relatively well during alliances, and the parties and feasts they throw together after a successful hunt is wild. Though they'll easily go back to trying to kill one another one the alliances end.

Also a lil Shinra add-on. In Izaya's quest for the occult they find Celty and Shinra falls in love with her. I haven't thought more past pirate dullahan asgdfhdhjsjf.

And yeah that’s all I have so far. I also had an idea of Izaya being like the son of an important person (governer, prince? Prince Izaya is good) and being captured by Shizuo’s crew. And while they are pursued by multiple pirates, nations, etc, because Izaya is priceless, he learns to love life on a pirate ship and bonds with Shizuo and his crew. So eventually when it does come time for Shizuo to hand over his bounty he doesn’t want to let Izaya go. (He’s gonna, and then he and Izaya will turn around and rob the fuckers blind and sail off into the sunset together). Also Izaya memorising a treasure map and destroying it so he becomes the map and Shizuo has to put up with him. TOO MANY IDEAS.

#pirate shizaya au #pirate au #pirates my beloved #shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo

27 notes · View notes

theobxhummingbird · 4 years ago

Text

A helpless moment when you found me. -Luke Patterson x Reader.

Summary: It all starts with a few cups of orange juice, and ends with 1 liter of tears. Luke Patterson needs to find a way of winning her back into his life.

A/N: @beautifulblogsblog enjoy this little emotional Luke x Reader imagine, my very very emotional self put together. Thank you for suggesting this story. 🤗🤗

(GIF CREDIT TO OWNER)

It all started, when Sunset Curve started to get known by bigger audience. All the teenage girls were crazy over the four, cute boys; they even got called on TV to promote their album; sold t-shirts and played a few shows out of town. All in all, the bandmates succeeded in making it to the side of the buses, or on the lock screens of many phones.

Luke’s dream was to have his music, listened by many people around the world; and it worked, which had him talk about it for days. And it was all going well with him, until everything about his music career started to blind him. Bobby, Reggie and Alex were doing great, not too much dedicated into the music, well, not as much as Luke. It touched him so much, the need of his music being heard, as well as his name, that he even freshly made up from a fight with his mum. Emily and Mitch were understanding parents. At the beginning, they didn’t accept the idea of his 17-year-old son, playing in a rock band, but when they all sat down to talk about it, the wild waters calmed, and they were able to speak the same language.

Luke, wasn’t only lucky to have two amazingly supportive and understanding people in his life, but one more, who always had the time to sit down and listen to what he had to let out of his heart. She, who was his first text in the morning, and last text at night; she, who was his few missed calls; she, who was the whole sunshine he could need in his life. She, who loved him with her entire heart; more than herself. He was thankful. He was so thankful, until she became the person that would wait for him to text first or call first, rather than bothering him. She became the place he’d come to, if he needed a person to tell all his matters to. But what she became, that caused her the entire pain in the world, was becoming the one who always waited for him at the table they reserved for their date.

And, together with his promise of never letting her hanging again, Y/N hopefully waited at the table. Her sixth ordered cup of orange juice, had the orange line at the bottom of the cup, letting the waiter know, she had finished another one. Other than a big vase of flowers, and empty eating supplies; that once used to be filled with delicious food, now there was nobody else at the table. She checked the time, and he was now four hours late.

The amount of respect and love Y/N had for Luke, kept her sat on that chair for four hours. And she wouldn’t have even moved, if it wasn’t for the waiter who let her know that there’s a couple that reserved the table after them. She managed to pay him for the drinks, and her trembling body made it out of the now, least favorite restaurant on her list of date places she and Luke went to; well if he came, they would’ve had a great time and she wouldn’t have to put it at the least favorites, just like the one he left her the last time.

With the second time of leaving her hanging, Y/N thought he’d learned from the mistake he made and they wouldn’t need to argue with each other. This---this was another disrespect for her, and God knew where he was. No text, nor calls appeared from him, and it made her more worried, than mad that night.

And like for every person, there’s times where unluckiness catches us in a trap. Suddenly, all that happens that day or night, is bad. It not only ruins our day/night, but it ruins our life and us in whole. It started to pour. Immediately, it soaked Y/N to her bones, and the only escape she had, was to run in those puddles that formed in the cracks of the pavement, and hide under and awning of a bar that was not too far from where she was. Y/N pulled the sides of her jacket towards each other, trying to warm herself, by blowing and rubbing her hands together. The bar seemed to still be opened, but she couldn’t really be sure because it was hard to see from the foggy window. She wiped away the fogginess with her elbow, revealing a surprising picture; one, she couldn’t really believe. Luke, Reggie, Alex and Bobby, all gathered around a girl. Her hair strands, were stuck to her face, and her face was traced with water lines, but not from the rain; she was now, fully in tears. As if four hundred knives were stabbed in her back, Y/N turned her back, and stepped out in the rain---after what she saw, there was nothing that could hurt her more.

She was a slave to the heartache, and it controlled her in every way. Y/N’s broken figure, entered the empty hallway of her home, but luckily her parents were asleep to even see her in that state. And it was for their and her best, even Luke’s, because they were very protective over their daughter. She didn’t even change into pajamas, neither did she dry her hair. The covers were pulled over her body, and she was fast asleep, getting the warmth, of her cold body and warm breathing.

Like others say though, the mother instinct is never wrong. She was fast awake when she heard the doors open. Tip toeing away from her sleeping husband, so he doesn’t argue about leaving their so in love daughter, to live her teenage love years, she slowly opened the door of Y/N’s room. She quietly gasped at the state she was in, and sat on her bed, feeling the soaked clothes she was sleeping in. And it wasn’t only from the rain, but now from the sweating that soaked her pillow. Y/N was shaking, and her cheeks were burning red.

-Wake up, wake up! -she shook her husband. He jumped out of bed, and followed her to their daughters room.

-Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

No answer. The next thing, her dad picked her up and rushed to the car in his pajamas, her mother following him. The car drove away from their house, and her dad was driving fast to the hospital. He carried her in his hands, until the medical staff took care of her. She was frozen and her lips were bruised. They put a breathing mask immediately, and her heart rate was very low.

It was a nightmare of a night for the Y/L/N family, and it scared Y/N’s parents, that her mother had to also be taken care of. Her dad got himself a cup of tea from the canteen and sat outside the hospital room, waiting for his wife and daughter to get better. And he waited, until the doctor called him to his office.

-Y/N hadn’t eaten properly for days, and stress reacted even more. Also, she got soaked, which completed the state she is in now. Your daughter needs to eat, Mr. Y/L/N and stay away from stress as much as possible. It’s not a joke, it’s a life we’re talking about; a life of a young person. Here’s the pills she needs to drink for her curing. She’ll be held in the hospital for two days, then we’ll release her home.

Her dad bought the pills, as soon as he left the office. And the man wasn’t stupid, to not understand that the stress, might involve Luke as well. He didn’t call him though. If the boyfriend of her daughter, was wise enough to check up on his girlfriend, he would’ve called himself. So, he was back to waiting.

Luke on the other hand, was at home. Sweaty from the big performance he had to do that night. And, we would all blame him for leaving Y/N alone, but the reason behind him leaving her hanging, is heartwarming from one side for another person, but painful and risky for Y/N. He changed into clean, and dry clothes, and sat on his bed, to see what Y/N’s up to, and explain what happened, that he couldn’t even text, nor call her. No answer. He called her dad, her mum, but none of them answered. So, he went to bed thinking they’re all sleeping, though, something kept aching his heart, that he couldn’t close his eyes as soon as he placed his head on the pillow. He kept tossing and turning, but it didn’t work, until finally, he found the best position, and fell into a deep sleep.

Y/N’s mother woke up before her the next morning, and stayed listening to her daughter, repeating Luke’s name in her sleep. Though, she also didn’t want to call him, thinking the same way as her husband. Y/N didn’t still open her eyes, and as much as the doctors and nurses wanted to, and even tried waking her, she wasn’t waking up. Her mother now went to treat herself a cup of tea, after the night she had.

-Mrs. Y/L/N? -said a voice from behind her. She turned around with a confused expression, but it dropped when she saw Reggie; Luke’s bandmate, who she met once at a show the Y/L/N family went to, to support Luke.

-Hello Reggie. How are you?

-I’m great Mrs. Y/L/N, actually how are you, is there something wrong?

-Yes Reggie, there is. Y/N is going to be held here for two days. Yesterday she came home soaked, and got sick so we had to rush her to the hospital, because she couldn’t wake up.

-Ca-can I see her please? -his eyes were filled with tears and worry.

-Sure. Come with me. -she placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him to the hospital room. Unnoticeably, he sent and SMS to Luke, quickly sending away what happened to Y/N, hoping his friend will come to take care of his girl.

-Oh no, Y/N. -he said, taking a hold of her frozen hand.

After getting out of the shower, Luke finally looked at his messages, and it took him a second to slip his shoes on, and basically run to the hospital with his wet hair.

-Y/N Y/L/N! -he breathlessly said to the person at the register.

-Room 200. -she said, and he tapped the elevator button, but couldn’t wait for it, so he took the stairs. When he got to the hallway, where her parents were stood, his heart dropped at the scene. Both of them in pajamas still, with barely any sleep, because of him.

-Mrs. Y/L/N. -he said in tears.

-Go Luke, go next to her. We’ll talk about it later. -she rubbed his back, and he wiped away his tears, and entered the room, where Reggie was waiting, who jumped up and left, so he could be next to Y/N.

-Oh, my beautiful girl. I’m so sorry, it’s my fault.-he brushed away some hair from her face, and trailed his hand down her cheek. He took a hold of both of her hands, kissing them many times, and grabbing the sheets of the bed, so he could quietly cry in them. A warm line was traced under his eyes, and it disappeared at the corner of his eye.

-Don’t cry. -her raspy voice, made it to his ears, as his head shot up.

-Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry-

-Don’t be Luke.-she turned her head to the window, where her parents were stood. She blinked as an approval of them entering the room.

-Baby. -said her mother, and went to kiss her temple, followed by her dad. -How are you feeling?

-I’m feeling better. Can we go home now? -she lifted herself to sit up, but her mother pressed her down back on the bed.

-The doctor said two days. Tomorrow you’ll be home anyways.

-Fine then. Let’s follow what the doctor said, I guess. -she sent a sad smile towards her parents. They saw what the situation was, and left them alone, even though Y/N’s look begged them not to leave her alone with Luke.

-Can I explain myself? -he asked softly.

-Of course. -she positioned herself, so her back could rest against the pillow.

-We had to do this last minute show, Y/N. It was for a kid’s operation money for aboard, and they needed to be sent that night. They asked us, and we couldn’t say no to that poor family. For else, you know I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes.

-I’m glad the kid’s got operation money. Hope he’ll, heal as soon as possible.

-I’m so sorry, baby. -he said, wiping his tears away and rubbing his wet hands off his jeans, -I’ll leave you now, because it’s obvious you don’t want me here. I’ll come later again, love you so much princess.

She opened her mouth to talk, but Luke was out the door, and he stopped to look at her from the window, but she pretended as if she’s looking out the other window in the room.

-If you loved me, you could’ve at least stayed. I don’t want you to go. -she whispered through her tears. It was the most painful feeling of her life, listening to him say that she doesn’t want him. She wanted him. And it hurt her more and more, knowing he’d done something beautiful for another kid. But he sacrificed her life, and happiness. The part with the girl at the bar, stayed as a question mark in Y/N’s head.

Y/N’s dad had a talk with Luke, and when he explained everything that happened, he couldn’t only be on his side, rather as a father, he took Y/N’s side first, then giving the right to Luke.

-The choices you make in a relationship, you make for you and your loved one. A relationship is led by two people, and whatever they decided, it should never affect only one person. I know how much you love my daughter, it’s all written in your eyes kid. But I love her more than any other guy could ever love her. She’s a part of my soul, and even if one fiber gets damaged of her, I’ll ruin this world. Make up with her, please, I don’t want to see you grieving for each other. You’re a great couple, and it’s really sad to see her alone in that room over there.

It stayed with him the whole day, those words by Y/N’s father. He sat on his bed, and the only thing that couldn’t make him so helpless was writing. He took his music notebook, and started writing what he felt towards the girl, who was now being begged to eat. It worked after a few tries, but she was able to put some proper food into her system. Alex, Reggie and even Bobby came to visit her. Though, there was a girl waiting at the door; the same girl from the bar.

-Who’s that over there? Why is she standing alone?

-It’s my girlfriend, Rose. -said Bobby.

-Ah huh. -she said, a sigh of relief was supposed to follow, but instead her heart relaxed, knowing Bobby probably wanted the boys to meet her while they’re there.

After they left, not too long after, Luke came as promised. This time, he really came, together with his guitar, and bags of fruit he bought.

-You parents said you can’t have any tough food, so I thought your favorite fruits are a great idea. -he left them on the table, and sat down next to Y/N’s bed.

-You came. -Y/N said, holding back a big smile. He looked really handsome, even though he didn’t even try to. It was what had her attracted to him the most at the moment.

-I came to sing you to sleep. -he said, and positioned his guitar. Y/N slipped down to her laying position, and patiently waited for him to start singing. When he did, she realized that the words are completely new, and unknown to her, which meant he wrote them freshly. And he did. He wrote her a song, about how he’s sorry and if he’d take back the time, he’d fix everything, but still remain the Luke she loves.

After he finished, Y/N applauded and rested her hand on a writing, carved onto his guitar.

-Why ‘Y/I’ (Y/I= your initials)? -she traced it with her fingers.

-For Y/N Y/L/N. My Y/N Y/L/N.-he smiled.

Y/N sat up and rested her back against her pillow, as few tears fell down her face, quickly wiping them away so Luke doesn’t notice. He still thought she was mad at him, with the right to be, so he nodded his head and sat up to leave the room, just like he did earlier, although this time, it wasn’t clear if he would come back again. Y/N swiftly lingered her fingers onto his, and it gave her life; his touch.

-I-I need you...Let’s make up. -she said and swallowed her tears. Luke slowly spun around and sat on the bed. She cupped his face and wiped away his tears, as he did the same, resting their foreheads on top of each other.

-I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry for doing the same mistake again. Please forgive me and give me the chance to make up to you. I love you so much,

-It’s fine Luke. It all was gone with another day. Let’s focus on the ones that are coming. I love you too, so much. And the song was beautiful, I can’t even explain to you.

-Yeah? Well, since we made up and sang a song, you must now eat at least one orange, okay?

-Okay fine. -she said lazily, and Luke managed to peel one for her. She made a sour face when she tasted it, and Luke placed a kiss to her lips, getting a taste of its bitterness and making a face as well, which made her laugh. For the first time since the day before, she managed to remember what laughing feel like. As well as crying, and going through pain, all because of the one boy, she loved with her entire life. Mutually getting the same love, from him; her Luke Patterson.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #jatp fandom #julie and the phantoms #fantoms #luke x y/n #jatp series #jatp imagines #luke patterson jatp imagines #luke patterson imagines

172 notes · View notes

awhiskeyriver · 4 years ago

Text

le cirque monstre

This is the prologue to an old but newly updated story I idea I’ve had for years, sort of forgot about and recently remembered and became interested in again. I honestly don’t know when I will transfer this over to ao3 (probably at least the prologue, soon) or when I will add more. My inspiration for things is very fleeting right now, but I wanted to get your thoughts here in tumblrland on whether or not I should bother continuing!

Unedited and some things might end up changing in the future, but enjoy!

+++

Prologue: 1918, Coney Island

She used to think the cotton-spun candy that tasted like melted sugar was just like a dream; too good to be true. She was younger then, and everything about life was shiny and vibrant. Her nose crinkled with distaste as her boney knee stuck to the floor of the bleachers. Not anymore, though. Now, the popular fair treats were only a nuisance, making her job of cleaning between shows all the more difficult.

“Applesauce,” she muttered, twisting to sit on her butt as she peeled a piece of gum from her skin.

“What are you complaining about now, Katniss?” Gale asked, poking up from the row behind her with a devilish grin. Katniss rolled her eyes when he reached out to poke her nose, wondering how someone three years older than her could still be so immature. Gale and her had been best friends since the time she was small, bonded through unfortunate circumstances of life.

“I’m tired of cleaning these seats,” she pouted, sweating and absolutely exhausted. It had been their fourth show of the day, with five more to get through before calling it an evening. Katniss felt the sharp pangs of hunger vibrate through her stomach and moaned.

“If you quit being such a dewdropper this could’ve been done by now and we’d be off eating lu—“ he cut off, ears perking at the sound of distant voices growing closer. Katniss turned to face Gale before he pushed the top of her head in signal to crouch, doing the same for himself.

Female voices billowed through the auditorium, followed by that of her father, whose voice was authoritative and all business. He cleared his throat loudly a couple of times before joining in their quiet laughter with a hardy one of his own that reverberated off the bleachers. Katniss shrunk further into the ground with the sound. Father had always been a vocal man. Vocal when he was happy, even more so when he was angry. He talked, and Katniss listened. Katniss was always listening.

“The children all loved the performance today.”

“Simply loved it!” another high-pitched voice agreed. Katniss twisted her head uncomfortably in hopes of seeing beneath the bleachers and caught sight of two women dressed in long black robes with matching white-lined headdresses.

Nuns from the orphanage.

Gale had sold them tickets earlier before the last showing, and Katniss had hoped she would’ve finished her chores in time to see the children. Because despite living within her father’s circus (what he advertised to be the happiest place in America) there was a surprisingly low number of people who were willing to keep her boredom occupied.

“Children, what must you say now to Mr. Snow?” A chorus of cheerful thank you’s sounded, and underfed children whose clothing didn’t exactly fit wore bright grins. Perhaps the advertising hadn’t been entirely false. They all sure seemed to think so.

The children lined up behind the tallest sister like toy soldiers, marching towards the opening flap of the tent. All, except for one.

“Not you, young man.”

Katniss had practically turned herself upside down in effort to keep the woman in her line of sight, and caught the faintest glimpse of the child. He wasn’t facing her, but his hair was ash-blonde and unattended. Although he wore the same uniform as the other boys, it was sloppy with his shirt un-tucked and it’s color slightly off-white.

“You are not going anywhere,” she spoke dismissively as the other sister came to stand beside her.

“…But, have I done something wrong?”

His voice surprised her. Strong for a child, despite the same unavoidable squeakiness Gale experienced sometimes, being almost fourteen.

“Part of becoming a man,” he’d said proudly when her and her baby sister Prim giggled. “It’s called puberty.”

“Puber-what?” Prim asked, nose wrinkled.

“Awe, forget it.”

“Peeta...” The one reached out, as if to touch him but recoiled before her hand could land on his shoulder, and drew back. “Our home has no place for you, anymore. There is nothing we can do for you.”

He remained quiet as the softer one peered up at her stone-faced sister, who only nodded with agreement.

“You belong here. There is simply nowhere else for you to go.”

“There is not a soul in New York who cares to take in a crippled boy.”

Father took a step in closer to the nuns, who stood a fair distance from the wilting boy. Katniss watched on, her heart beating explosively inside of her chest in a way that made her breaths almost ragged. She’d witnessed cruelty tenfold and was not blind to its existence. But the reality of what the young man was crashed down on her heavily, and she realized perhaps they were not being heartless afterall.

The boy was grotesque. Evidence of the fact made clear as he turned on a crutch made of wood and exposed his profile. It took a hand covering her mouth to keep from making any audible sound.

So, they were simply right, then. There wasn’t a soul in New York, or most likely any state, that would willingly take him into their care. Nobody but a circus.

He resisted as her father’s thick hand clutched his arm, but surprisingly enough did not scream. He did not say a single word as he finally spun around fully into Katniss’s view. Watching with a mixture of fear and dread as the two nuns who had escorted him in left without him.

+++

“Quit trying to bug him, Kat,” Gale snapped, catching her arm outside of the tent where all of the circus freaks were busy preparing for their shows.

Three weeks had passed since the boy joined her father’s circus, parading around with clowns on stilts and the small people that waddled around in shoes five times too big and circular red noses. Three weeks and any time she tried to catch a glimpse of him outside of the show, Gale caught her.

“Aren’t you at all curious?” she huffed, twisting out of his embrace with a thoughtful rub to her elbow. “Haymitch says he is only thirteen. The youngest carnie we’ve ever had.”

“Then going in there will only make him feel like more of a freak,” he scolded and Katniss wilted, realizing the truth to his words. They both jumped as father’s booming voice sounded from a distance, calling Gale’s name.

“I need to go start selling tickets,” he sighed, turning to leave with suspicion in his eye. “Promise me, Kat.”

“…Oh, alright.”

“Promise me.”

Katniss sighed, smoothing out the fluffy material of her dress as something to keep her hands busy. “Yes Gale, I promise to stay out of trouble. Now go, or you’ll have to answer to the whip.”

He left and Katniss paced the length of the carnie tent. There was music playing inside, the soft blare of a saxophone and some sticks against metal pots. Katniss enjoyed spending time with the performers when allowed. Chaff, the deep-skinned muscle man that could lift four hundred pounds despite missing a hand, made her laugh. And Haymitch, a magician, let her play with some of his props when he was drunk enough.

So, really, her going inside of the tent wasn’t completely for the new boy. She had been keeping her fingers crossed during the promise to Gale, anyways.

Katniss glanced around the abandoned backlot, where dark puddles of mud created divots in the green grass she was forced to hop over to keep her shoes clean. Then, she slipped past the thin curtain, which closed off the strange world of fantasy from harsh reality.

Katniss went unnoticed, weaving her way through lounging performers and billowing clouds of smoke. It was always louder in the back tents – deep laughter and saxophone practices, occasional drunken arguments and the escaped moans from two closer carnies. She winced when the volume grew unexpectedly, and bowed her head as if to provide a thin veil of privacy to a group of outlandish people who didn’t know the meaning of it.

She waved at Haymitch, who only raised up his eyebrows in her direction before blowing up a shining red balloon and twisting it with his skilled hands. The other clowns seemed to be hanging close by; some sleeping, others smoking. The new boy most likely wasn’t far. She bit the inside of her cheek, silently debating with herself whether or not to ask of his whereabouts before she caught a glimpse of something that captured her attention.

There it is again, she thought, following the thin trail of light that bounced off the draped edge of the tent, which was otherwise dark. She bent over in half, silently pushing past it with curiosity in her expression. The corners of her mouth lifted when she saw him, sitting perched on the clear opposite end near one of the long poles, which held the tent in place. With a thin, melting candle for light, he kept a novel perched in his one bent knee, his eyes scrolling the pages like a typewriter.

“Hello,” she offered, jumping in surprise when the boy dropped the book and shot up on one wobbly leg.

“Oh…” she bit the corner of her bottom lip to keep from giggling at his startled expression. His overgrown hair fell haphazardly into his eyes despite his best efforts to push it back.

“Did I scare you?” She asked, reaching out to hand him his cane. He didn’t reply, but accepted the crutch quickly before bending over for the book, which he tucked behind his back away from her view.

“It’s alright, I’m not gonna take it,” she promised. He glanced down at her, bright blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I was just curious.”

He huffed in silence, falling back to the ground silently as he dusted the dirty pages. Katniss frowned, shifting on her feet as she watched the boy flip through his story. She hadn’t thought past the initial finding him, and now that she had, the silence was deafening.

“Can you speak?”

The tips of his ears turned red as he kept his gaze focused at the ground, running his hands over the dirty cloth of his pants.

“Of course.”

“I know,” she smiled slyly, inching closer to him the way one might approach a nervous animal. “I just wanted to hear you say something.”

She sat down, pushing her butt closer when he didn’t protest and leaned over his shoulder to glance down at his lap. She’d never seen a book so close in real life, only in the hands of strangers or in pictures. Father had never bothered teaching her how to read more than a few simple words, claiming it was pointless for girls to fill their heads with nonsense like knowledge. Certainly, as a circus girl, it wasn’t Katniss’s place to argue. But, it hadn’t helped her curiosity. She sat in silence, wondering if the boy could actually read the words on the pages, or if he was pretending. It was just as ridiculous for the time to be spent teaching him such a skill as it would be for herself.

“What is your novel about?”

“You can borrow it, if you would like,” he offered, dog-earing one of the pages before handing it over to her waiting hands. Her lips pursed sourly as her eyebrows furrowed, pushing the book back into his hands with a sting of betrayal in her chest.

“Well, you don’t need to make fun of me.” she mumbled, rising up to her feet. How humiliating, to be made fun of by this boy she’d only hoped to make feel more comfortable.

“Wait.” He grabbed hold of her arm, the first physical contact he’d offered to her since she’d approached. Her body stiffened and the warmth of his fingertips was gone in a flash as his hand twitched back down to his side. He pushed a long lock of hair back behind his ear, eyes boring into her despite her back being turned.

And it was then, under the candlelight that she saw the gnashes and hideous scarring that ripped apart more than half of his face up close. Quickly, she looked away.

“I wasn’t making fun of you,” he promised lowly, sounding almost sincere. “I wouldn’t.”

“I can’t read. You should know that,” she sniffed, chin tilted up in the air as her eyes shifted back to his forlorn face. “I’m a lady.”

“My apologies. Someone I kne—” he stopped himself short with a shake of his head before cocking his chin back in the direction of the book. He ghosted a hand over its impressive script before opening it back up to the page he’d previously closed. “Perhaps, I could teach you. If you wanted to learn, then you could borrow it sometime.”

Katniss took a moment to truly ponder the idea. Plenty of carnie’s had taught her things over the years. Octavia, the lady with facial hair as long as that which grew on Katniss’s head, had taught her how to properly buckle her shoes when she was younger. And to that day, Haymitch took credit for teaching the girl her first words. She didn’t suppose accepting such a proposition from this boy was much different.

“What would you like in return?” she wondered aloud, confused by the boys humorless laughter, sounding through the dark space.

“Your company shall be payment enough.”

She imagined the boy, all by himself in the dark confines of the carnie tent with only the book as company, and pitied him. She knew well that it took more than being surrounded by a sea of people to not feel alone. Gale and Prim would like her new friend though, she was sure of it, and together they would all keep him fine company until he found a solid place within the odd circus family.

“Alright,” Katniss agreed, dusting the dirt from the bottom of her old dress. She needed to be going soon, or Gale would grow suspicious. The last thing she needed was father out searching for her when he had a show to run. “Friends, then.”

“Sure,” he agreed slowly, as if mulling over the word. “Friends.”

“But we can hardly be friends if I don’t know your name,” she argued, waiting patiently with her hands twisted together. Her tightly spun sausage curls bounced with every step she took in the direction of the main tent before stopping just outside of it. “Mine is Katniss.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Katniss,” he spoke, so eloquently for someone of his status. “I’m Peeta.”

#fanfic #writing #circus!everlark #this will definitely be on the darker side...lol #probably the darkest thing ive written #very different #but i hope interesting??#let me know if its worth continuing or aborting LOL #writing is hard #everlark #everlark fanfic #thg #why is putting something out into the universe so hard?? lol

60 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 4 years ago

Note

I think we've already met the fox who was tamed by the little prince: Emerald! I know, I love the idea of Whitley being Oscar's fox, but in the narrative, it makes the most sense with how he's nurturing her onto their side.

Hey there Miki-chan. In respect to Emerald Sustrai being the Fox in Oscar’s Little Prince story, here’s the thing with that. As much as I’m enjoying the Green Team/Emerald City budding dynamic that sparked in the last volume, I wouldn’t quite say that Emerald is Oscar’s fox; at least in my humble opinion.

It isn’t to say that it was the Prince himself who taught the Fox a lesson through their shared time together. From what I recall from the story, it was actually the other way around. It was the Fox that taught the Prince his important lesson by using himself as an exemplar and having the Prince visit him each day at a certain time. It is through the Fox that the little prince learns the value of what it means to form a relationship with another. The Fox imparts this knowledge onto the young boy through the act of taming.

The taming of the heart was the action or technique through which the Fox used to teach the Prince the importance of love and responsibility by highlighting to him that this process forms a meaningful bond between the tamer and the tamed---that is the connection that someone or something shares with another person or thing that truly makes them unique in their hearts; thus reinforcing the uniqueness of the Prince’s rose in his eyes based on the bond they shared together as a result of how much the Prince invested in looking after his rose.

Even after all these seasons, this squiggly Pinehead is still more of an advocate for Nora Valkyrie being the Fox in Oscar’s Little Prince story. Nothing against Emerald but if there is anyone in Oscar’s line of companions who I believe truly embodies the Fox’s lesson to the Prince in terms of character and story, it’s Nora.

Given her own nature and previous development; including what transpired with her side of the story for the recent V8, I can more see Nora imparting such wisdom about love and responsibility onto Oscar more so than Emerald since she knows what it’s like to have her heart tamed by another and to feel “responsible” for said special person in her life based on their history. This was what her relationship with Ren was like; at least from my perspective.

Even prior to realizing their feelings for each other and becoming a couple, Ren and Nora were incredibly supportive of one another given their shared past as close friends forced to survive the world together following the loss of their home---at least Ren’s home back in Kunoyuri. We still have yet to learn of Nora’s mysterious origins and this squiggle meister has a strong inkling that Nora’s story traces all the way back to Vacuo.

I’ve always had this small headcanon in the back of my mind that Nora was originally born in Vacuo Kingdom but was probably kidnapped and trafficked off as a potential child slave to be sold off in Mistral and that plays a part in how she wound up in the Kunoyuri Village to meet Ren.

During the Kunoyuri episode back in V4, I specifically remembered one of the Kunoyuri village children who bullied Nora pointing out her attire; commenting that her clothes made her appear rather alien to the people of Kunoyuri. I’ve always had this impression that Nora’s sense of fashion more lined up with that of huntsmen of Vacuo. And given that Nora mentioned seeing her mother get killed by Grimm in V8, it’s certainly making me reconsider looking back at my hunch at her being from Vacuo.

One concept that I have for Nora’s backstory is that she is probably the daughter of some high-ranking person of nobility in Vacuo; given her inspiration from Thor who was not only the God of Thunder but also the son of Odin---the King of Asgard.

For me, I’m liking the idea of Nora’s mother drawing inspiration from Frigga---the Queen of Asgard. Like perhaps Nora was the daughter of some powerful person in Vacuo who unfortunately lost both his wife and their daughter when they were attacked and kidnapped from their home; during which Nora lost her mother before ending up in Anima near Kunoyuri. That’s one idea I have swirling in my head but…as always, these are only assumptions from me.

Going back to what I was saying earlier; again, as much as I like Emerald’s growing bond with Oscar, I’d actually love to see the showrunners do more for Oscar’s relationship with Nora. Even before Emerald entered the picture, next to Ruby Rose, Nora was always a second female member of the hero team who cared about Oscar and always looked out for his best interest.

Even more so than Jaune who the showrunners technically didn’t start pushing to be close with Oscar until late V6 into V7 while characters such as Ruby and Nora have been watching over Oscar since day one. Especially Ruby. Yet…when Oscar became Salem’s prisoner, only Jaune was allowed to know of this information a la the PLOT while Oscar’s two other MUCH closer companions were off somewhere else completely oblivious to this info.

I know V8 is over and done with but this squiggly Pinehead will forever be omega salty about Jaune Arc being the one to lead the charge to rescue Oscar from Monstra since out of all of Oscar’s close bonds, Jaune would never be my first choice to share that subplot with Oscar given previous volumes.

That right would’ve gone fittingly to Ruby Rose since unlike Jaune; she’s had the most CONSISTENT development with Oscar out of the whole hero cast and has watched over him the most out of everyone INCLUDING Jaune.

Ruby also had her own connection to Salem which I was hoping the showrunners would’ve touched upon in V8 but as we saw that disappointingly never came to fruition now did it?

Jaune wouldn’t even have been my second choice to rescue Oscar from the whale. That would’ve gone to Nora since, as I mentioned before, Nora has been looking out for Oscar since before Jaune started to around late V6.

If I may rant a bit more on this subject, what genuinely bothered me about the whole Oscar on Monstra V8 subplot is that in order to prop Jaune up as someone who cared deeply for Oscar’s wellbeing, the showrunners literally had to write not one but TWO of Oscar’s stronger bonds out of the story for a while just to prop Jaune up. I REALLY didn’t like that at all. And don’t even get me started on the whole Penny finale bit.

…Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut….that’s another suppressed squiggly rant for another fine day if I’m ever in the mood. Bottom line what I’m mainly trying to say here is, given the current development in the story, I would actually love to see V9 highlight Oscar bonding more with Nora. While I’m expecting more Emerald City bonding time of course, I’d also love it if we got Nora sharing more meaningful moments with the little prince too especially if it leads into her teaching him about love and responsibility. Even better if that lesson ultimately lends to Oscar either figuring out a way to bring their missing friends back from the mysterious Other World or unlocking a newfound power within him that grants him the opportunity to do so.

For now, this is all just speculation. In the meantime, I hope this answers your message Miki-chan.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2021)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #nora valkyrie #emerald sustrai #rwby volume 8 spoilers #rwby volume 9 theories #rwby theories #miki-13

17 notes · View notes

ultfreakme · 3 years ago

Text

I don’t think MCU knows how to write romances, which is why Steggy just fell flat after CATFA and I have a hypothesis.

MCU’s target audience is everyone. Mass appeal to really get the cash flowing. But this is a franchise based on comic books and there is this stereotype that cishet men and boys are the ones who predominantly consume this stuff. Also superhero movies have some specific expectations and roles they should fulfill, like epic fight scenes, being toTalLy mAcHo, saving the day, saving the damsel, whatever.

Female characters aren’t exactly....characters in these films(at least at the start), they are props and ideas to be sold. It took 10 years to make Black Widow a character, an Avenger in her own right rather than side character. The aforementioned mass-appeal thing means any sort of romance needs to meet some criterion so little to no one gets uncomfortable(according to MCU standards)

Romances are heterosexual

They need to be obvious to viewers

Neither of them can engage in anything more than kissing.

Okay it needs to be the milquetoast thing ever. The heterosexual romance falls flat because one of the people in the relationship doesn’t have a character. The ‘love-interest’ who is often female and just something the hero is guaranteed to have doesn’t inspire any sense of tension because literally everyone knows how the relationship will go.

Weird thing is the female characters are actually well-written enough before they become a love interest. When they are put together with the male character they are supposed to love, any defining personality trait just gets dulled down.

Peggy is pretty badass on her own, but the second she’s made to interact with Steve, she goes from character to prop. Something like that happens with Jane in Thor- she’s this well-known astrophysicist who is smart as fuck, kinda dorky and awkward but she like....she just fades into the background whenever she’s with Thor. Why would she be interested in him after about 2 days of knowing him? Why would she love him for 2 years and wait around after knwoing him for such a short time? How does that work? I get a passing friendship and worry but romantic love is going to take way more.

Thing is the second a ‘love-interest’ is assigned, the relationship escalates so quickly it doesn’t feel real. For some reason they HAVE to kiss if they even just look at each other. There’s no place for a slowburn where an actual dynamic is built.

And this is where they accidentally create very compelling male relationships. Steve and Bucky’s relationship spans over all 3 Captain America movies and is there even in the Avengers movies. It takes a long, long time- we get time with them, we get to see how the relationship influences each other- how it changes each other. That’s what makes it so compelling.

I think the same can be said for Stony too(though okay I don’t ship it but I’m sure them going from begrudging allies who sorta hate each other to friends over the span of multiple movies with various ups and downs is what makes them so cool to witness). And less popular, but ThorBruce- they aren’t love interests but they start of with a tenuous alliance, which becomes friendship and eventually a strong friendship where they count on each other. SamBucky too(hating each other-> friends with the same guy and having the same cause -> friends and this also happens over multiple movies and a TV series)

They are allowed to be friends first, their relationships develop naturally because they are allowed to be characters first, their traits and existence are not compromised to shoehorn in any relationship.

And they’re all SLOWBURNS.

Jane & Thor would’ve been more compelling if in the first movie, they were allies on the verge of friendship, in the second their friendship becomes more established and it was slowly built up throughout the avengers movies. That way there’s more weight in the break-up, in the struggle of long distance and dating a god.

Same with Peggy and Steve. The thing with Steggy though, is that the franchise killed any potential for it with the time travel and burned it down in CATWS and AoU(Peggy says you can’t go back to the past to Steve and says he needs to live in the present- a present which she can’t be a part of. And Steve says whichever part of him that wanted the white picket fence and family died 70 years ago). Steggy set itself up to be a past Steve needed to leave behind for positive development.

The Steve-Peggy relationship was opened and closed by CACW and they opened up Steve’s relationship with everyone in the 21st century.

Sharon Carter doesn’t work because it’s Steve clinging to the last of his ties with Peggy(also that is PEGGY’S NIECE MAN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING). Also we don’t know shit about Sharon at that point. They should’ve kept her an ally and friend and maybe built up a friendship between the two based on their grievance over the fall of SHIELD and Nick Fury. Steve would’ve worked better as a mentor figure to Sharon tbh.

okay rant done

#mcu meta #idk if this counts #mcu

6 notes · View notes

sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years ago

Text

Rossi’s New Book (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Reader owns a bookstore and is hosting a book reading for a new book by David Rossi, and sees someone cute browsing her store during the reading.

Warnings: It’s just a fluffly little meet cute.

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

For those of you using Interactive Fics or something similar, I use Y/N and Y/L/N once or twice so make sure you have the replacements saved

~~~

After years of hard work, your small bookstore had become a bit of a hit in the DC area. A year ago you would have had 4 or 5 sales a day, but those days are long behind you. Your little bookstore had been featured in multiple articles and news stories, which raved about the unique selection, small coffee shop, and the bookstore cat, Molly, (who had wandered into the shop one day and never left). Today was going to be another busy one - not that you mind - due to a local author hosting a reading for his newest book. David Rossi is definitely one of the biggest names you’ve ever hosted in your store, and even though the reading wouldn’t start for a while, there was already a small crowd waiting in anticipation.

Your recent growth in popularity meant that you didn’t need to worry much about the reading. You had a small team of 5 working in your store, plus a team Rossi’s editor had brought to help keep the crowd under control. This meant you could happily drink your coffee and enjoy the reading while everyone else worked diligently. As the time grew nearer and the crowd began to find seats, you noticed one person who didn’t seem too interested in the reading; instead, the tall man was browsing the store’s non-fiction section. Even though you weren’t technically on duty right now, you couldn’t help but be intrigued. The man looked confused, maybe a little nervous? He seemed like he was searching for something specific, and hey, no one knows the store better than you. He glanced up towards you, and you would’ve been embarrassed, but his eyes widened and he looked back towards the shelves quickly. Oh yeah, you’re definitely going over there. Really, it’s your job as the owner to help the very, very cute man find whatever he’s looking for. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you make your way over, trying to build as much confidence as possible.

“Hi, can I help you find anything?” You spoke quickly, probably a little too quickly. Probably shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee.

“O-oh, um, no that’s ok, I can try and find it myself.” He answered, while messing with his hands nervously.

“You sure? I own the place, I know it like the back of my hand. I can help you find your book before the reading starts…” You ended the sentence hopefully. You weren’t sure why you wanted to talk to him so badly, but ultimately your business came first. You didn’t want to badger a potential customer so much to the point he never returned.

“Oh, I’m not here for the reading. Well, I am but, I’ve already read the book. Three times. I was just looking for this new biography on Mary McLeod Bethune? It came out about a month ago but I haven’t had the time to pick it up yet, I was hoping you might have it in stock still?” You vaguely remembered ordering a small shipment of the book he was describing, and as far as you were aware, you’d only sold a few.

“Oh sure, that’ll actually be just over here,” You began walking as you spoke, bringing him to the other side of the shelf, “We’ve grown so much, we had to make a separate section for biographies.” Your eyes immediately found multiple copies of the book in the middle of the shelf, and you reached out to grab it. The man did the same, causing your hands to hit each other instead of the book. You looked up at him as he looked away from you, a blush evident on his face, before he reached out and grabbed the book. As he studied the back cover for a second - damn, he reads fast - you remembered what he had mentioned earlier. “Did you say that you’d already read the new Rossi book? Three times? Didn’t it just come out yesterday?” You had only just finished the book, but that was because you had the advantage of early access; you received the shipment a week ago.

“Oh, um, Rossi is actually one of my coworkers. He gave me a copy last week. Me and a few of my other coworkers are here to support him.” His eyes drifted over your shoulder, and when you turned you saw a small group by your cafe area, drinking coffee and talking to David Rossi, who you recognized from the back cover of his many books. When you turned back, his eyes were on you, the book he had been interested in tucked under his arms.

“So you’re an FBI agent then?”

“Y-yeah.” He hesitantly held a hand out towards you, “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You answered, taking his hand. Both of your hands lingered for a moment after shaking, and the man, Spencer, opened his mouth to speak as he let go. Before the words escaped him, however, Rossi’s editor spoke loudly, making both of you turn and gaining the attention of the crowd, as she began introducing Rossi. “You better get over there,” you whispered to Spencer, “Kind of hard to be supportive if you’re wasting time with me.” He gave you a smile as he nodded, and made his way towards his group of friends. If you hadn’t walked in the other direction, towards some of your employees standing near the back of the crowd, you would’ve noticed Spencer’s coworkers lightly teasing him for the encounter.

~~~

After the reading was over, you helped your overwhelmed staff get everyone checked out and out of the store, as you could tell they were all tired and ready to get home. Hopefully once the place was mostly empty, you could get them all back in the comfort of their homes and run the store on your own until closing time. During all the craziness, your mind had allowed you to forget about the cute FBI agent who had distracted you during the reading. You finished checking out the last customer in your line, and noticed that the other cashiers only had a few people each to check out. You figured now would be the best time to thank Agent Rossi for choosing your store to host his event, but just as the thought came to you, your name was being called from across the store.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Agent Rossi was now walking over to you, so you quickly began walking towards him, meeting him in the middle with a hand to shake.

“Agent Rossi, you did great up there! The book is amazing, we’ll have to restock pretty soon, I’m sure of it,” you let go of his hand, smiling widely. “Thank you so much for choosing my little shop for this reading.”

“Oh of course, I couldn’t think of a better place. Don’t be surprised when you get a call from my editor when I release my next book.” Your smile somehow managed to get wider, excited at the prospect of having a recurring author visit your bookshop. “Oh, and don’t be surprised when you receive a call from the young doctor either.” He said this with a wink, and you felt a blush rise on your face pretty quickly.

“I-I haven't given him my number, sir.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. If he doesn’t get the guts to ask you tonight, We have a pretty great technical analyst at the FBI that’ll find it for him, trust me. She’s very...driven.” Even though you should probably be a little concerned at the idea of an FBI agent researching you, you giggled, looking towards Spencer over Rossi’s shoulder, who was still holding the book you had helped him find, not having checked out yet.

“Well, I guess I’ll look forward to his call.” You and Rossi said your goodbyes, and you headed back towards your cashiers. They no longer had a line, and besides the remaining FBI agents, the store was empty. You sent them both home, and sat behind the counter yourself, and grabbed the book you were currently reading from its hiding spot under the counter to entertain yourself as you waited for Spencer to approach you.

After about 5 minutes of reading, you heard footsteps coming towards you, and looked up to see Spencer, still with a light blush on his face. “All set?” You asked, placing your bookmark in your book before placing it back under the counter.

“Uh, yeah, just the one book for today.” He handed you the book, and you quickly scanned it before telling him his total. He handed you a credit card, and you felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t mentioned wanting your number yet. As you handed back to him his card and receipt, an idea occurred to you.

“Did you want a loyalty card? Buy 4 books and get the 5th half off.” You said, grabbing one of the cards from its stack behind the counter.

“Sure! That sounds great.” Before his sentence was over, you gave the card a quick stamp, and flipped it over before you grabbed a pen that had been sitting in front of you. Spencer leaned towards you, clearly confused as to what you were writing. With a final pen stroke, you handed the card to him with a smile.

“Maybe we can talk about that book sometime, I’d love to learn more about Mary McLeod Betune.” Despite the slight blush on your face as you said the words, your confidence levels were higher than ever, as Spencer looked at you with a really big smile.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll give you a call.” He answered simply, before turning back towards his friends. As they all made their exit from the store, He looked at you one last time and gave you a shy wave before walking out of the door. From the window outside, you saw Rossi give you one last wink, and if saying “I told you so” to you before heading out of your sight. You stared at the door for a few seconds after they had left, only being stirred out of your trance when Molly jumped onto your lap, purring lightly and getting her fur all over your black shirt. With a small laugh, you picked her up and held her as you closed up the shop, the cute doctor never leaving your thoughts.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #matchmaker david rossi #spencer reid one shot

274 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (4/14)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Prepare thyselves, here be angst. And warnings. Next update will come on Saturday, then from next week updates will come every Tuesday and Friday.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings) Warnings: This chapter contains minor character death, cancer, child abandonment, and some minor child abuse.

Word count for this chapter: 2.6k (47k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 4: Killian Jones, August 11th 1995 – October 31st 2000

Killian doesn't expect to get the girl's name from two policemen who were searching for her. They say she was sneaking out and that they need to get her back home.

He looks at her as she's leaving; her head is low and she doesn't look back at him.

He steps away from the children still playing. He's not in the mood anymore, he's feels more like... eating something... or running to the bathroom to puke. He's not really sure.

He's certain he knows his first hardship on the difficult trip back to England. While still at the airport in Boston, his mother keeps saying something about an "immigration office" as she talks to his father on a payphone, eventually hanging up angrily. She apologizes to Killian and tells him they'll figure things out soon.

They miss their flight. He's too tired to calculate but he's sure they stay in the airport for more than a day, hardly getting any sleep on the hard chairs of the lobby. He's lucky he's got his mama's lap to rest his head on, at least.

He spends a few good hours trying to remember the girl's name; Liam would be so curious to find out about his younger brother's first kiss, and he can't even remember her name! Anna? Enya? No, he would've remembered such a name.

After even more hours they reach home tired, unwashed and hungry, and for the first time he hears his parents fight.

That same night, still shaken by hearing the fight, he goes to his brother's room. They just sit together, looking at Liam's star light that projects constellations on the ceiling. He thought that, upon coming back, he'd spend hours telling him everything about the summer school, and Boston, and having his first kiss, and flying on a plane... instead they just sleep next to each other, and for the first time he understands why some of his friends had said that they sleep with their parents after a nightmare.

That night is, actually, the first time Killian ever has a nightmare.

It only takes a week. He would later consider it the calm before the storm. Calm, or more like quiet, because his friends don't talk to him much, which he interprets as jealousy because he had the trip and they didn't.

But the storm hits exactly one week after they've gotten back; his mother passes out while coming home from work. Some long hours of Liam babysitting him later, his father brings her home from the hospital.

He's never seen their faces so saddened before.

He has so many questions, ones that fifteen-year-old Liam apparently doesn't. Like, what cancer is, and why it's bad that it's fast-acting. What is chemo and why is it too late for it to have effect? Why does mama have to stay in bed so much?

"How long will you stay in bed?" he asks that out loud.

"A few months," his father says.

Another question; why is mama not talking at all?

"And then you'll be up, mama?"

She looks at him, and tears fall from her eyes. She stands up slowly, sits between her two sons on the couch and holds them close.

Killian cannot explain it, but somehow, he knows. Somehow, the knowledge sets itself in his mind as if it were always there.

That October 24th is the most underwhelming birthday he has had. He's so used to big parties and celebrations and gifts, that a simple cake shared between the four of them around the quiet table feels out of place for a birthday.

They never tell him anything, but it doesn't come as a surprise when two weeks before Christmas his father starts preparing a black attire for himself and the boys.

He takes one black dress for mama, too, though Killian knows someone else will put it on her.

The house is silent when they leave for the funeral, and it feels even more silent when they come back.

Killian has a feeling that it will never stop being that.

This night it's Liam who comes into Killian's room and sleeps next to him.

Time becomes a blur; it's one of the days where Liam sleeps next to him that Killian wakes up early, and father isn't home. He doesn't worry much, he just tries to spend time on the TV. Only one channel has signal, and though normally Killian hates listening to the news, he prefers that over the silence now.

He remembers it's a Saturday, but father still hasn't come home when Liam wakes up and takes up making breakfast for the two of them. Killian offers to help, but he burns his hand trying to make an omelette and Liam, with a patience Killian doesn't think he deserves, takes over for him.

Had Killian known more, he would have realized that on any other day he would be getting stressed and angry. Instead, he feels empty – almost as if anticipating the news that, by two days later, become a reality.

Their father left them. He took clothes and personal documents, withdrew all the money they had in the bank, including Killian's and Liam's college funds, and apparently sold their home two days before he left.

Killian didn't cry at mama's funeral. He didn't cry when the social worker confirmed that father had left by his own choice and left them with nothing. But when they tell him that there aren't any foster families that will take both brothers together, Killian breaks down sobbing.

He can't... he can't lose him too.

"I'll visit, brother," Liam says, his voice shaking. "I will call you every day."

Killian trembles in his brother's arms. He'd rather not have a home than not have him right now. He's all he has left.

But the social workers don't seem to care. They pull Killian away – and damn Liam, why isn't he holding onto him? Why is he letting go?! – and put the two brothers in two separate cars.

It's three long but empty weeks before the phone rings and for the first time, it's Killian they ask for.

Mr. Silver doesn't look happy when Killian reaches the phone – not that he ever looks happy when Killian is concerned. He gives him the receiver with a frown.

"Don't take too long," he whispers at him and Killian fights back a shiver.

"Hello?"

"Killian!"

"Oh, Liam! Where are you? Are you coming? I miss you."

"I know, brother. I'm sorry. They took me to Bristol."

"Bristol?! How?! That's too far away!"

"I know. Maybe I can convince someone to drive me to London."

"I miss you. Please come."

"I miss you too. I'll try."

"Come where, Jones?" Mr. Silver's strict voice is heard from the other room.

"Bollocks," Killian whispers.

"Killian!"

"Oh, shut up. You have no idea how much that guy curses."

Mr. Silver appears in the hall right in front of Killian. "I asked you a question, Jones."

"It's- it's my brother, sir."

"You're not answering my question."

Killian swallows hard. "He- he said he may visit one day."

Mr. Silver snorts. "Not in here. Make it quick, now. I'm waiting for a call."

He doesn't leave, instead he stands there, arms crossed, and this time Killian can't stop the shiver down his spine.

"Killian," Liam's calm voice comes from the phone.

"Yes?"

"Is that man treating you right?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Does he hit you?"

Killian grabs the phone tightly. He's never heard his brother's voice like this. "No." Not yet, he thinks. He's seen how he pulls at the bigger boys' ears when they aren't behaving.

He chances a glance at Mr. Silver, regretting it immediately. His eyebrows are raised suspiciously and he makes a gesture with his hand towards the receiver.

"I gotta go. Try to- please." He doesn't dare say much with that man so close to him.

"I will. I promise, brother. I love you."

"Me too. Goodnight."

He doesn't get a goodnight back. Mr. Silver grabs the receiver and hangs up.

"Move," he says, picking it back up and dialing.

It takes two more months for Liam to actually visit, but Silver doesn't let them go further than the playground a couple blocks away, with him sitting on the bench across from the swings where the brothers sit.

Killian is still young, but his mind is hardening enough to start knowing better. Silver is not suitable for a foster parent, but maybe it's not a coincidence that the other two boys in the house have already sullied criminal records.

"You're not gonna be like them," Liam says.

"Can't I come to Bristol too? Isn't there room in your house?"

"I've talked to the social worker, but I don't know how this works. She says it's not that easy."

"You're lucky," Killian says, looking down at his feet. "My social worker won't answer my calls." When I do get time for a phone call, he thinks.

"Hey, I'm still here. We may be far, but we're both still here. We'll get through this. My foster father said that when I turn sixteen he may let me help around his brother's gas station. I'll make some money, I'll find a job, and when I turn eighteen, I'll do my damnedest to get custody of you."

Killian feels tears well up in his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away. He can't let Silver see him like this.

Empty weeks turn into empty months, and those turn into empty years. Killian changes foster homes, never getting closer to Liam's, but eventually he gets in some kind of trouble – biting back at school bullies, staying out late, getting caught with alcohol – and he always finds himself back to Silver's house.

It's there that he feels the most empty, the most lost. It's only Liam's occasional phone calls, less occasional visits, and the hope that he'll get a job and get them a home for themselves that keeps Killian afloat.

There are times he wonders how things could turn out like this. He used to be happy. Things used to go well for him, he had a bright future... he had a family, a home. Now he's resorted to just waiting until he's old enough to take some control over his life, no matter how little.

And the more time goes by, the more he feels his patience running out.

Nothing is permanent in his life, nothing is stable. Homes come and go. Liam comes and goes. Having only a miserable plastic bag to keep his stuff in, most of the drawings he makes to pass the time end up in the trash. His mother was the one who encouraged him to draw and hang his pieces all over his bedroom walls. Keeping them now only serves as a reminder of what he's lost.

The only thing he actually treasures is the photo of himself, Liam, and their mother, which he managed to grab just in time while the social workers were urging him to pick up only the essentials from his childhood home. As it almost was victim of being ripped to pieces by whatever bully targeted him, he now keeps it in the most uninteresting place he could have thought of; his math notebook.

After turning eighteen, Liam finally moves in London, but he's working two jobs and only has time once a week, for a few hours, to visit Killian.

Killian doesn't celebrate his fifteenth birthday. Not that Silver would care if Killian had asked for a celebration. And when, just two days later, the police call him to come recognize his brother's body after he was killed in a work accident, Killian finds the lack of celebration so fitting that he actually bursts into laughter. He laughs and laughs until his chest starts hurting and he's on his knees, shaking but unable to call for any help.

Silver is still talking to the police on the phone, shouting at him to stop being a brat. It's Ed, the only boy older than Killian in the house, that kneels down to him and slaps him, getting him out of his hysterics.

Killian struggles to hold on, but his resolve breaks into pieces when the doctor raises the sheet covering Liam's body. He doesn't have any care left about Silver seeing him crying and sobbing like this.

One last broken hope he had, that Silver might give a damn after seeing him so devastated, is gone too after that.

It's just that one time; for the next two years that he stays under that horrible man's roof, he cultivates a cool, careless exterior, while his pillow soaks his silent tears almost every night.

At least, Silver doesn't care much for Killian causing trouble, like trespassing, breaking curfew, or even drinking. He just gives him the ceremonious slap and goes on with his day.

So Killian doesn't think too much before deciding to sneak out and into the Halloween party on the other side of the city that Ella – or Cruella, as the kids in the house call her – the first girl in the house in years, suggests they go to. With his meager savings he puts together a pirate costume, puts a thick line of black around his eyes with the eye pencil he borrowed from Cruella, and together they hot-wire the first car they find and drive to the extravagant villa where the party is at.

At first glance, Cruella scoffs and searches around the house for booze.

"I can't believe there's adults here. What was the point?!"

It's a good thing Killian got an eyepatch. The pencil irritates his eye and he has to wash it off in the bathroom, then cover his reddened, smudged eye with the patch. His other eye isn't done and the eyepatch looks weird on the side it's on, but the lights are so low that probably no-one will notice. He doesn't expect anyone to look at him long enough to notice, anyway.

Like any other party, he feels like an outsider, but he doesn't care. He dances by himself while occasionally looking around to check if Cruella found the alcohol. Instead he spots a girl, probably his age and dressed as a zombie princess, who is looking at him. Like, looking looking.

He doesn't connect the feeling in his stomach with the one he'd felt at that game of spin the bottle so many years ago. He's so older, his mind burdened with such darker thoughts, that right now it's confusing to feel an unknown emotion that isn't scraping away at his soul.

And the girl is walking to him, just as a ballad comes on.

"Wanna dance?" she says.

He just offers his hand. His mouth feels so dry he fears his voice won't come out if he tries to say anything.

He heard the term 'butterflies in one's stomach' before, but he had no clue it would feel like this, so overwhelmingly confusing but making him happy at the same time. The girl is smiling at him as they slow dance, and he reckons, so is he. From the corner of his eye he spots Cruella, holding a cup that most definitely doesn't have a plain fizzy drink or juice in it, but he can't tear his gaze away from the girl. There's something familiar about her bright eyes, whose colour he can't decipher in the red and purple lights.

Her expression is soft; her smile falls, but not out of any sadness. The song draws to an end, and suddenly her lips are on his.

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #also: I don't have a tag list #but I can tag people if they want to keep up :)#so if you want to be tagged just message me!#piracytheorist writes

24 notes · View notes

jabbajambler · 3 years ago

Text

Powerless

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,090

*GIF by @babyyodastuff*

The bar was vacant except for a few tipsy aliens. Their words slurred together as they spoke and slung their arms around one another. They started to sing some sort of song, but the lyrics were soon lost in the puddle of sounds. It was then nothing more than a hum that drifted in the air.

Honestly, any sound would've been better than this conversation. Every look in that cruel woman's green eyes made me want to spring across the table with my saber. I was sure Din wouldn't complain too much.

"Trask is a black market port," Bo Katan leaned against the table with a determined look in her eyes. There was something lying beneath that stare, something she wanted. "They're staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We're seizing those weapons and using them to retake our home world."

I laughed, choking on my drink as I tried to hold it in. Mandalore? Was she serious? That planet was a wasteland and it was partially her fault. I could feel her cold glare on me before she continued.

"Once we've done that," her voice was darker now, "we'll seat a new Mandalore on the throne."

"That planet is cursed," Din spoke with ease as I struggled to hold back my grin. "Anyone who goes there dies. Once the Empire knew they couldn't control it, they made sure no one else could either."

I shrugged, "with the Empire gone, who knows, but that planet is a wasteland."

Bo Katan's hungry green eyes focused on mine. "And who exactly are you?"

My throat felt dry at her mocking question. She held a slight grin on her face as she tilted her head to the side, batting her eyes as though there were no hints of resentment. I still tried to hold my head high despite the feeling of her staring down at me. "I am Myrah Koor," I said, my stomach dropping slightly as I said it, "adopted daughter of Aaryn Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi. I suspect you remember them, don't you?"

"I do. You don't like me," she rolled her eyes and placed her hands beneath her chin, "why? From what I remember, I helped your family."

"You betrayed my family," I snapped as the overwhelming anger started to swell in my chest. "You're a cheat and a liar and-"

Bo Katan scoffed, "don't believe everything you hear." She shrugged me off and turned back to Din whose momentary focus was on me. I could see how my face flushed red and warm in the reflection of his visor.

"Our enemies want to separate us," her gaze drifted over to me quickly, "but Mandalorians are stronger together"

I struggled to hold in my fury as the heat consumed my body. I swore one more sly comment and she would have wished she wore the helmet all the time. The gentle brush of leather against my hand distracted me, pulling me from my rage-filled thoughts. Din's hand was quick to pull away from mine before the others had questioned it.

As if we weren't already as dramatic as possible on the boat. Surely they weren't that naive.

"That's not part of my plan," Din answered Bo quickly as he turned his gaze to the child who watched the exchange curiously. "I've been quested to return this Child to the Jedi."

Her eyes flickered between me and the child. "And she wasn't good enough?" she hummed, "what do you know of the Jedi?"

"Nothing. I was hoping you would help me by Creed."

Her lips lifted into a small, smug smile as she looked between her other Mandalorian friends, "I can lead you to one of their kind," she spoke quietly, "but first, we need your help on a mission?"

I scoffed, "what sort of mission do we need to help you with? You three seem to be perfectly capable on your own.'

"We usually are," she snapped before taking a deep breath and straightening in her seat, "but this is more intense than what we usually deal with on Trask."

"Let me guess," I leaned forward in my seat with my arms folded on the table, "imperials? I'm shocked you don't feel like betraying the galaxy and go side with them. After all, isn't that what you're good at?"

Koska, her brunette friend, had to hold her back from lunging at me across the table. Even the slight squeeze on my arm told me to settle down. If I went any further, I was sure to have a knife in my chest or her hands wrapped around my neck until I blacked out. I certainly wasn't going to die at her hands.

"Yes," Koska finished for Bo Katan as she and their other friend tried to calm her down, "they're imperial and highly guarded. We will provide more details at sunrise. Should we meet here?"

Din quickly shook his head, "meet at the west docks. We'll rendezvous there in the morning."

"Right, well," she huffed, "you should probably get going."

The hand on my arm lifted me from my seat before I could fit in another snarky remark. I couldn't even shout anything on my way out because we were out in a flash. I almost thought Din forgot the kid with the way he tugged me out of the building.

"What were you thinking?" he snapped once we reached the cool, night air.

I shrugged, "I was thinking that she was a traitor to her family and mine. Listen, she carries a long history with her, one that I'm not too fond of. Let's leave it at that."

"Fine."

The docks were so empty at night. Or was it morning? It felt like we had accompanied Clan Kryze for ages. Each stare was full of threats, maybe even promises, of destruction. Bo Katan knew the weight of her words and how they would carry with Din. She knew that the child was everything to us and if she could use us to her benefit, she would.

It wasn't like it would cause her any grief. She'd done it many times before. To her, people who suffered from strong emotions were simply pawns in her game. As though we deserved to suffer from loving something so much.

The child, I mean.

My family must be under some sort of Kryze-Curse where we are forced to do their bidding. I wish I could break it. I would like to be the last sort-of-Kenobi to suffer by their hands.

The air smelled like fish. Dead fish. It was absolutely horrid yet the child couldn't get enough. He smiled sleepily as he breathed in the air. The moon lit up the dark sky and reflected across the vast ocean. The light rippled across the waves so perfectly, I almost thought it was a dream.

As we journeyed towards the Razor Crest, the wood creaked. Every single step was followed by a small sound of it bending beneath our boots.

Step.

Creak.

Step

Creak.

The monotonous sound was followed by the slight splash of the waves against the wood. It felt like the dock was moving with the water. Honestly, it probably was. Who knew how far down the posts went and the planet was almost entirely ocean. It wasn't such a far-fetched idea.

We no longer had to await the painfully slow door of the Razor Crest thanks to the gaping hole that took its place. In some ways, it was nice. Still, a part of me worried about being robbed in our sleep. That is, if we had any valuables left.

"We could get a motel room if you want," Din's gentle voice floated through the air. He sounded shy, almost ashamed of the state the ship was in.

"No," I gave him a weary smile, "we'll just be careful. There may be more weird aliens out to kill us."

He breathed out a huff of air, a quiet laugh if you could even call it that, and shook his head. "Right. As if you can't handle that."

"If I can't, I know I have you right beside me," I held the child close to my chest as I sat on the edge of the cot. At least one thing was still intact. My eyes drifted to the small hammock above me as the child reached for it. His brown eyes were wide and his lips trembled as he struggled to grab it. I breathed out a soft chuckle and lifted him into it, pulling a small blanket over his body.

He couldn't speak, I knew that. Or, at least he hadn't done so yet, but I felt gratefulness swarm my mind as though he was communicating subconsciously.

"Go ahead and sleep," Din cut through the child and I's silent moment, "I'll keep watch."

Of course, ever the gentleman. Or he still didn't trust me. I assumed it was the latter, but I wouldn't say anything. I didn't need to incite another argument, let alone bring up any questions about what happened today. Sure, he knew my history as a force-user but I didn't need any more questions. As far as he knew, I could move things with my mind, heal people, and had a 'laser sword.' That was enough for now.

"Alright," I agreed with a friendly smile, "but I expect you to wake me up as soon as you're tired-" he started to speak before I started up again, "and you're taking the cot as soon as it's my turn. You can't get out of this one either. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor or in your chair."

Din stood silent for a moment. His brain was undoubtedly searching for some excuse to avoid a somewhat decent night's sleep. Eventually, his head fell down with the chin of his helmet resting against his chest plate. A long, exhausted sigh escaped him, followed by a quiet, reluctant, "fine."

"Wait, really?" My eyes grew wide as his simple agreement. He was never one to easily follow anything unless it was his idea, especially so quickly. I felt a short laugh bubble out of my chest, "have I finally tamed the wild Mandalorian?"

"Stop," he grumbled.

I held back my laughs as I stood up and circled him, "next up, we see a rogue Mandalorian, broken away from his pack. At first, he seems untamable. He's unable to be captured, but then! A Jedi? She's caught him, fed him, shown him all the true joys in life! Now, he has no choice but to become a domesticated Mandalorian, politely obeying every word the Jedi says-"

His hand closed over my mouth, his other arm wrapped around my back to pull me near. "Not another word," he spoke quietly.

"Apparently not as well trained as I thought. Maybe we need to teach him some manners," I winked and pushed his hand away from my mouth. My nose scrunched up in disgust, "and how to clean his clothes. Those smell rotten."

"Well, I did fall in the ocean," he stated simply and pulled his arms back to his side.

I snickered and sat back in the cot, pushing myself towards the back wall, "it's a good thing someone was there to save you, then. Must've been some beautiful, strong woman, right?"

"Yeah," his voice came out breathy, but quickly went back into his regular, stiff tone, "too bad she's annoying."

My jaw fell slightly, leaving my mouth gaping as I stared at him. A joke? A funny one too. I laughed and fell back in the bed. My head hit the thin pillow, bouncing slightly against the mattress. "Whatever," I rolled my eyes with a wide smile on my face, "just make sure you wake me up, okay?"

I could hear a small hum in agreement as I shut my eyes. For the first week in Coruscant I was terrified to fall asleep. New places used to always scare me and I never showed my face before I was alongside Din. Now, I was safe. Everywhere I go, I know there is someone to protect me.

Instead of succumbing to the aching pains of sleep like I used to, I drifted off easily with a smile on my face. I knew, no matter what happened between us, he wouldn't let anything get to me.

taglist:

@emiijemii

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #Mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x oc #dyn jarren #jedi #OC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #babyyoda #grogu

6 notes · View notes

chocoluckchipz · 4 years ago

Text

The Other You - 2

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

His body heavy, eyes drooping closed, Adrien released his transformation and flopped on his bed face down. Who in the world thought that him running a fashion empire after spending all day teaching the principles of physics to teenagers was a good idea? Add in Chat Noir’s obligatory patrols, and you've got yourself a sleep-deprived, confused, and stressed disaster of a man. Yet, despite his exhaustion, Adrien’s lips stretched in a smile as soon as his head collided with a pillow.

“I’m so tempted to just sleep,” he whispered into the silence of his bedroom. “There’s always morning for changing clothes and grooming.”

“Do whatever you want,” Plagg puffed. “But I need disinfection. Seriously, you two need to get a room and preferably a kwami-free one. I didn’t sign up for this uncivilized, touchy-feely stuff. Can’t you just reveal identities and free me from being an involuntary participant in your grossly romantic endeavours?”

“If it were up to me, I would've done that a long time ago,” Adrien murmured. His shoes and clothes already on the floor, he crawled under the comforter, yawning. “But, you know just as well as I do that it isn't up to me, and Ladybug might actually be right about it being dangerous.”

“Hawkmoth hasn’t been active for years,” Plagg whined, finishing wiping himself with a sanitizing towelette and immediately heading straight for his stash of Camembert. “He’s probably dead already. Why do you still need to keep these masks on?”

“Hawkmoth not being active for a while isn’t proof that we’ll never see him again,” Adrien replied, wrapping himself around his pillow. “What if he’s just waiting for us to put our guard down to strike?”

“He isn’t that smart.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Adrien yawned again. “The man kept us on our toes for a decade. But even if, presumably, he’s out for good, this isn't the time to start a relationship still.”

“Why not?”

“Plagg, please,” Adrien mumbled, his eyes closed as he snuggled the pillow closer. “You know as well as I do that Ladybug is going through a rough period right now. Her job now demands all of her time and attention thanks to that jerk-boss that ditched them. Her relationship with her roommate—her best friend may I add—seems to worsen every time I hear about it. And have you even seen her? She’s lost weight and looks pale and tired all the time.” Adrien paused, opening his eyes. His chest tightened as he looked into the darkness of his bedroom. “Right now, Ladybug needs a friend who’ll support her, not another relationship to work on. And since I can’t help her with her civilian life, I’d be damned if I added to her problems.”

Adrien rolled over and pulled his comforter over his head. Ladybug needed a friend right now, not a boyfriend, and he loved her too much to add a romantic relationship to her already nearly unbearable pile. So until she got her promotion, he’d support her as a friend and would remain close for whenever she needed him. Once she reached her goal, though, that would change because then, Ladybug would actually have time and strength for a relationship with him. Otherwise, Adrien was afraid he was risking ruining everything before it even started. He’d already waited for her for years, he could certainly wait a little longer.

“Whatever you say, lover boy,” Plagg murmured and started to settle in his little bed, turning and twisting until he found the perfect position. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight, Plagg,” Adrien replied, his thoughts racing back to his Lady and the effortless friendship they’d developed that tiptoed dangerously on the border of romance. It would come eventually. Adrien knew that, and when it did, he'd make his Lady the happiest girl in all of France. He'd never take her for granted. He'd always—

“Wipe that dopey smile off your face,” Plagg suddenly grumbled. “It’s creepy to grin like an idiot in the dark.”

“How do you even see what I am doing from your wastebasket all the way over there?”

“I don’t need to see it. I can feel it. Now, stop it and go to bed. You have tons of work tomorrow and just a few hours left to sleep.”

“Don’t remind me.” Adrien groaned, flopping on his back. “I should’ve sold my shares and been done with it.”

“Then why did you listen to that dude from your work? You should try it, Adrien,” Plagg mocked. “See for yourself before deciding on what to do: continue teaching or follow in your father’s footsteps. Nonsense, I tell you. You should’ve sold and invested in Camembert production, something useful for once.”

“Max isn't a dude,” Adrien chuckled. “He's a friend, and he has a point. I've spent my life hating the fashion industry only because of my father and his crazy obsession with his work. Maybe—”

“He kicked you out of the house because you followed your passion instead of whatever he wanted you to do.”

“He didn’t kick me out. I left.”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, this fashion nonsense ruined your life. Why would you want to ‘try it out’?”

“My life isn’t ruined. And I think it’s smart to make sure I really do hate heading a fashion empire instead of simply projecting my failed relationship with my father on the whole industry.”

“A load of BS if you ask me.”

“What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s just for a few months. If I don’t like it by the end of the summer, I’m selling.”

“It’s May now—”

“Almost June.”

“Still May, meaning that there are more than a few months until the end of the summer. And good luck enjoying each and every one of them with Marinette around. She gave you quite a welcome today, didn’t she?”

Adrien froze, all sleep vanishing at once, events of the past that changed his life forever flashing in front of his eyes.

***

On the day of their high school graduation, Marinette confessed. She blushed and stuttered and was absolutely adorable, expressing in the most beautiful and sincere of ways just how much he meant to her. When she finished speaking, with a trembling, hopeful smile on her lips, she raised her eyes, full of fear and anxiety, to look at him, but stunned, Adrien couldn't reply for the longest time.

He loved Marinette. He truly did, but only as a dear, close friend. He hated to reject her feelings, but even if Adrien wanted to give Marinette his heart, he couldn't. It had belonged to Ladybug ever since the day they’d met.

Speechless, all Adrien was able to do was look back at Marinette with eyes full of regret and apology. She didn’t need words to understand his answer. Whispering something he didn’t quite catch, Marinette escaped before Adrien could do as little as to say how sorry he was.

He’d never forgiven himself for breaking her heart, and if only he had been more careful, Adrien was certain they would’ve gotten through that incident without losing their friendship. Unfortunately, Adrien wasn’t so lucky. A few days later, he learned that Marinette had been pre-approved for an internship at his father's company. He lost his sleep over it because, living his whole life in the shadow of Gabriel Agreste, Adrien knew quite well what working for his father entailed and what it did to people as nice as Marinette. Sure, from the sidelines, being an employee at the hottest fashion house around seemed glamorous and exciting. In reality, there were only two options: you either allow this work to squash you and have a nervous breakdown before your first year was up, or you become just like his father—a cold, emotionless, heartless workaholic. There were no in-betweens or exceptions as far as Adrien was aware.

He couldn't let any of those happen to Marinette. Not when he wouldn’t be there to protect her. Not when, following a massive argument with his father over his plans for the future less than a week ago, Adrien was about to walk out of there himself. As of that moment, Adrien was supposed to move out of his childhood home by the end of the month if he wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a teacher. Otherwise, he’d have to cater to his father’s every whim indefinitely. The choice was clear, and seeing as he was escaping that hell of a company himself, Adrien couldn't silently stand on the sidelines and watch Marinette try to get on board. Not when, unlike him, she didn't know the reality of working for his father. Sadly enough, considering the timing, Adrien doubted that based on his words alone, Marinette would ditch her lifelong dream of working for Gabriel in favour of any other fashion houses that were sure to welcome her with open arms as soon as they saw her portfolio.

That's why he'd done it. That's why Adrien stole her file from his father's office.

He only wanted to protect her. He never meant any harm. He planned to sneak her portfolio to a few of his acquaintances in the other fashion houses that would be a much better fit for Marinette than his father's company ever could.

Perhaps, he could've chosen a better way to go about that, but at that moment, this was all that Adrien could come up with. Better timing also would’ve been nice. With his rejection of her confession, the moment to mess around with Marinette’s passions was as wrong as could be. Still, Adrien was confident his plan would work. The next day, he had a photoshoot for a fashion house that was on top of his list of better options for Marinette, so he stashed a copy of her portfolio in his bag and didn’t think twice about it.

Big mistake.

An hour before he was supposed to leave for the said photoshoot, Alya and Nino dragged him out of the house, picked up Marinette on their way and headed to their favourite cafe for some celebration he couldn’t even remember now. Despite the slight awkwardness between Marinette and him, their hang out turned out to be quite enjoyable. So pleasant, in fact, that Adrien let his guard down and made the second biggest mistake of his life—he’d allowed Alya to rummage around in his bag for mints while he visited the men's room before departing for his photoshoot.

Huge… colossal mistake.

Adrien stopped short of reaching the table on his way back. His friends stared at him in shock; his gaze focused on Marinette.

“Is this the reason no one could find my application when I called them three days ago?” She whispered, looking him straight in the eyes as she clutched her portfolio in her hands. “And the day after that? And yesterday? Today as well? They couldn’t find my portfolio because you took it?”

His body and mind paralyzed, Adrien stood frozen in place. He hadn't expected Marinette to find out. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to do or say.

Hastily, Marinette gathered her things and headed for the door only to halt her steps in front of him a moment later.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I can understand and accept you not returning my feelings; no one can control their heart. But this?” Her voice cracked as tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her face. “Why would you be so cruel? What did I do to you to deserve this?”

Stunned, Adrien helplessly watched Marinette for a few moments, his dumbfounded silence only fueling her already rushed assumption about the situation. When his speech had returned, he’d scrambled to explain.

“You can’t work for my father.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh. And why?”

“It’s a bad idea. You don’t know what working for him can do to you. Marinette, I’ve been there. I’ve seen things… terrible things that happen to people because they can’t handle the workload and demands. I don’t want you there. I don’t want you—”

Marinette raised her hand and spat, “Stop it. I don’t care what you’ve seen there. Those people aren't me. This is not yourdecision to make, Adrien. It’s my life. My decisions. And if it would be a mistake, I want to be the one making it!”

“But—”

“Save it. I thought we were friends, but I guess I was wrong. Friends support each other, not—” She swallowed, looking away, and quietly added, “If my feelings are so much of an inconvenience to you that you didn’t even want me working at your father’s company, you should’ve said so. I would have stayed away on my own. You didn’t have to do this.”

With those words, she walked away. Alya and Nino followed.

“I can’t believe you,” Alya had snarled. Nino kept looking down as he followed his girlfriend.

They’d kicked him out of their private chat room that same day. Adrien's multiple calls, emails and texts over the next few weeks to the three had gone unanswered. His hope for a chance to explain had been slowly dying, and in the end, it was Chloe—the only friend who remained by his side—who’d convinced him to give up. His heart was breaking, but Chloe was likely right; if none of his friends had responded by then, they’d probably blocked him. Adrien had some pride left, and he wasn’t going to impose himself on anyone in person if they wouldn't speak to him over the phone. There was only so much he could do trying to fix that mess; and he’d done more than enough. By the end of the month, Adrien moved out of the mansion, changed his contacts, and tried to start a new life, leaving everyone behind.

With his move, his relationship with his father had taken a sharp turn for the worse, the two of them becoming as good as strangers. Thankfully, Adrien had enough work and savings to support himself. Soon, he’d found new friends in university, and life seemed to be regaining at least some sense of normalcy. He regretted neither leaving his father nor trying to stop Marinette from entering Gabriel. Quite the opposite, Adrien would've never forgiven himself if he hadn't tried to save her from the claws of the monster called Gabriel Agreste.

Years passed. Adrien graduated and began working as a physics teacher at a local high school, ending his modelling career as soon as he’d signed his teaching contract.

He never heard much from Gabriel until the day his lawyer called from a hospital. A few murmured words of apology from his father in his final moments couldn’t fix anything, but in his heart, Adrien still mourned. He still cared because no matter how estranged they'd grown, Gabriel was still his father and there had been times when Adrien had been happy with him. He wished it could've been different. He wished they could've had a better relationship, but it was a little too late to change anything when his father was taking his final breaths. A failure on both sides. Adrien mourned that as well.

***

Adrien shifted in his bed. He had never asked to inherit anything. He didn’t need this company. It ruined a good part of his life, and for that, he hated it. Being cut off by his former friends, he didn’t know Marinette had been working there, sending all of his sacrifices to hell. But, boy, was he right. That gorgeous woman that snuck into his father’s office today—yes, he had to admit she was gorgeous; Marinette was always pretty but she had bloomed into a beautiful woman—was so exhausted that her beauty was barely visible. A thick layer of exhaustion glazed over her stunning blue eyes; her flawless skin looked pale; the sagging curve of her pink lips did absolutely nothing to accentuate her loveliness. The deep frown line in the middle of her forehead might have been there because of meeting him, but still, Adrien’s heart tightened. Working for his father hadn’t been merciful to Marinette.

Just as he’d predicted.

The worst part of all, however, was that Marinette seemed to not see it herself, fighting for a company that, without a strong leader, was quickly going under. Didn’t she have anyone in her life to care enough for her to shake her out of that trance? Didn’t she—

A thought popped into his head so unexpected and crazy, his eyes widened. It was rather insane, but perhaps fate was giving him a chance to redeem himself?

Whatever wrong he’d done before, his intentions were always pure: to help Marinette. She used to be his friend. He cared for her. Surely fate or destiny or whatever cosmic force that controlled his luck saw that and thought it unfair for Adrien to be condemned for what he hadn’t done. He wasn’t a backstabber; he was a loyal friend.

So, perhaps if he was the bigger person and helped Marinette now, she’d see his noble objective and would have to admit that he wasn’t as horrible of a person as she probably thought him to be. Perhaps she’d even apologize. He was older now, more mature. Surely, he could come up with better plans for how to improve Marinette's life, help her succeed, and prove the purity of his intentions and sincerity of his character.

He did also kind of owe her for breaking her heart. Maybe this was a chance to atone for that as well.

Adrien shook his head and rolled over in his bed. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care for someone who tossed him aside without even letting him explain. He shouldn’t help anyone who wouldn’t even listen to him or give him the benefit of the doubt.

He had been her friend. She had claimed to be in love with him. Why then was a simple mistake big enough for her to dismiss years of friendship and kick him out of her life? Why should he even think about doing anything nice for such a person, even if only to prove himself right?

Because she helped you just a few hours ago despite hating you.

Adrien groaned. Damn conscience! He still shouldn’t! She did it for the sake of her job, not because she cared for him.

She still helped you when you needed help. She isn’t a lost cause yet. There's still good in her.

Adrien pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t! Not after the way she treated him.

Weren’t you the one to deliver the first blow, though?

Adrien sat up, running his hands through his hair. Why was he such a pushover? Why couldn’t he be more like his father when it came to things like these? Why was he already thinking of the ways he could help Marinette?

Because you aren’t your father, and you still care.

“Okay, fine. I’ll help her.” He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Just leave me alone. I need to sleep.”

Settling back into his bed, Adrien closed his eyes and hoped for a few peaceful hours of slumber. Instead, his head buzzed with ideas crazy enough to make him chuckle one moment and bemoan his existence the next. By the time the morning rolled in, there were only two things that Adrien was certain of:

First, Gabriel would have to go. His father had built that company on his employees’ tears and suffering. It wasn’t worth saving, even if Adrien thought he figured out how to do that. It might be a petty, personal revenge move, but Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to care. It would be the right thing to do. Most of its employees had already handed in their resignation letters, anyway.

Second, there was only one way for Marinette to make it in this industry now: find a position in a different company. With her talent, it shouldn't be a problem. He just had to play his cards right and find her a company that would appreciate her more than his father ever did—showing her in the process what a grave mistake she made all those years back when she had cast him aside so cruelly.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #marichat #adrienette #enemies to lovers #angst with a happy end #the other you #myart #my art

83 notes · View notes