#WDYM UR NOT WILLING TO TRY?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slytherinshua · 11 months ago

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hannie :( IT IS NOT THE FIC OF 2024 WDYM 🧍‍♀️ what if i outdo this like WATCH ME OUTDO THIS LATER IN THE YEAR >:(

loved the wedding dress scene dkjksf i love describing stuff like that its so fun <3 i think i low-key created some pretty big juxtaposition w her outfits without totally realizing. like in the beginning when she's willing to try so hard to get close to wonu is when she's wearing the fancy wedding dress and other fire lady dresses. but then when she's found her own path as an assassin, her attention isn't on wonu the entire time, and she no longer dresses to try to impress him hehe

vulnerable crying scenes make me so :( LIKE YES COMMUNICATION FINALLY BUT THEN THEYRE SO :((

THE CEO HELP 😭😭😭 thank you 😍

it better be ur fav fic of mine now cause its the best fic of mine and i will despise any other fic u say is higher up 🤨🤨

BURNT PROMISES, SECOND CHANCES : a wonwoo atla au.

genre. avatar the last airbender au. arranged marriage au. slow burn. no communication istg. mutual pining. angst. fluff. fire lord wonwoo. nobleman's daughter/fire lady/briefly assassin reader. ft. advisor!jeonghan & brother!mingyu. warnings. wonwoo is frustratingly bad at anything social. reader is neglected. reader is depressed. wonwoo is overworked ngl. dragons. swords. (reckless) firebending. brief brief mention of child abuse. burns from firebending. blood. assassination lol. wonwoo is shirtless like... 3 times BCUZ AXE WANTED IT OKAY?? kissing. pairing. wonwoo x fem!reader. wc. 14.5k (i am so insane and i almost died 15 times writing this.) a/n. this fic is my longest ever fic and tbh idk if i'm ever gonna write a fic this long for a long time. i used to not be able to write more than 3k and then suddenly BOOM 14.5K OUT OF NOWHERE?? this is definitely a fic i'll remember for a long long time, and i have to say i'm extremely proud of it. fandom cross-overs have always been one of my absolute favorite things to write, and this definitely filled a little spot in my heart that i didn't know needed to be filled w a svt atla au. special thanks to @blue-jisungs who has hands down been the most helpful person in me being able to complete this fic-- i seriously wouldn't have finished it without you </3, and thank you to @wheeboo for proofreading this beast for me <3 i love you both very much :D

Wonwoo stood at the edge of the coffin, blank eyes staring down at the body that lay inside it. The news had been shocking to the whole Fire Nation. As far as anyone knew, the late Fire Lord had been healthy and suspected to rule for several more decades, yet here he lay, lifeless and cold in the wooden box. Wonwoo felt neither sadness nor grief. His father had always been a cold man who had shown little attention to his children.

Mingyu, Wonwoo’s younger brother, had become a ship general the year prior, and was still at sea, unable to return in time for the funeral or his brother’s suddenly announced coronation. Though, hearing the news of his father’s passing had started him back in the direction of home, it would take him several months or more to arrive still. He would stay for a month or two before returning to his diplomatic travels to the Earth Kingdom.

Wonwoo had, of course, been aware from a young age that he would one day become the Fire Lord. It was destined for him as the eldest son, and he had spent his entire life leading up to now preparing for it. His training had been twice as intense as Mingyu’s growing up, and while he had sometimes seen it as unfair during his teen years, he quickly grew to understand the burden he must bear as the next in line to the throne.

He had responsibilities that Mingyu did not. He was not only expected to attend extra fire bending lessons, but he was required to be well-versed and knowledgeable in political matters, royal etiquette, local affairs, military management, and public speaking. On paper, he had all the qualifications necessary to be a responsible and wise leader, though it was Wonwoo’s own doubts and uncertainties that led to the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of the power.

His gaze wandered a little, up to the throne surrounded by crimson flames, once occupied by his father, now empty. Soon, he would be the one seated there. There was a sense of pride that flickered in his eyes as he took in the sight. He had always been determined to become a leader that the nation could trust. He had always assumed he would have a little more time to prepare, though.

There were many things that still felt improper about his coronation in two days. For as long as the position of Fire Lord had been in place, it was customary that the lord be already wed before taking the throne. And, if he happened to already have children to secure the family line, even better.

Wonwoo had neither.

He had barely ever thought about women or love, having been too focused on his studies. But now, the task of finding a wife as quickly as possible was plaguing his mind among the other sudden changes.

“Your Highness?”

Wonwoo turned at the sound of the voice echoing in the empty throne room. It belonged to Jeonghan, Wonwoo’s advisor and long-time friend. Jeonghan was one of the few people that maintained Wonwoo’s absolute unwavering trust, something that not even Mingyu could say he possessed.

“I’ve compiled a list of eligible young ladies that would be suitable to be your bride. Given the pressure from the public, there isn’t much time for you to spend much time with them, but if any of them pique your interest, you could at least meet them before the wedding.” He explained, handing over a scroll to Wonwoo.

Upon unravelling it, Wonwoo scanned a long list of names, each clearly stating who the woman's father was and what connections she had. Below each name was a brief description of background, and important or notable skill sets and events were specifically stated.

“You’ve put stars next to some names.” Wonwoo noted, furrowing his eyebrows as he read further down the list.

“The stars are to separate the ladies whose fathers have already expressed their approval of their daughters marrying you. I didn’t star the ones who seemed greedy for the throne or possibly had ulterior motives, I might add. I would suggest picking from them if no one particular interests you.” Jeonghan clarified, pointing to a couple of the starred names, “These young ladies are well beloved by the public for their beauty and skills. Some are excellent firebenders, others have accomplishments in different areas.”

“How long do I have to choose?”

“About 4 days… 6 at most. Though, I’m sure the wedding planners and the lady’s family would both be appreciative of extra time to prepare for the ceremony. If you leave it to the last minute, they’ll have to scramble to get everything ready in less than 48 hours.”

Wonwoo nodded, “I’ll decide by this evening and give you my selection. Please set up a meeting with her family for Thursday. If the wedding is on Sunday, I’d like to have at least met her once before then. Thank you for the list, it makes the process a little easier.” He said sternly.

Jeonghan laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder, “Why so gloomy? You’re about to become the Fire Lord! And you get to choose among the most beautiful young ladies of the Fire Nation to be your wife! Brighten up a bit!”

“Despite the celebrations, I’m not feeling particularly cheerful about any of it. I’m juggling the coronation, picking a wife, the wedding, keeping track of Mingyu’s route back from the Earth Kingdom, electing a new army recruit, firing some of the higher ranking generals that only survived because of bribes with my father, and tending to the public’s complaints about the reconstruction on the East side of the city. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.” Wonwoo sighed.

“For this week until your wedding, focus on the first two of those tasks. The coronation will go smoothly even if you don’t write the speech ahead of time. You’ve prepared for many years for this. The rest can wait a little, but you can’t show up to your wedding without first choosing who you are marrying, so please inform me of who you choose as soon as possible.” Jeonghan patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Wonwoo nodded, taking one last look at the long list of potential wives before rolling the scroll back up, “You’re right. I’ll make sure to give the time sensitive tasks my full attention.”

“Would you like to join me for some tea?” Jeonghan suggested, “I’d like to take one more chance to address you as Prince Wonwoo before your change in title. Or should I start calling you Fire Lord Wonwoo already?” They both laughed at Jeonghan’s teasing, and Wonwoo agreed to the offer for tea. He was glad that amongst all the change, Jeonghan remained a constant steady fixture of his life.

Wonwoo kept his word and picked out a bride from the list before his coronation. He trusted Jeonghan and his judgement on who were the best potential wives, and so he picked from among the starred candidates. After comparing descriptions and seeing some portraits, he finally landed on his final choice.

His crowning as Fire Lord took place on Wednesday. The ceremony went by surprisingly quickly, which relieved him of some of the stress he carried. The Fire Lord headpiece felt heavy and unstable on top of his head, and though he had made it through the coronation, he still felt uneasy. Was he really qualified to take on such an important role?

Wonwoo didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night. Shuffling in the corridors and disturbance of the long red curtains in his bedroom kept him awake most of the night. He was sure it was just all the sudden changes getting to his brain and keeping him up, but the anxious feeling that he couldn’t shake off almost tormented him.

He put on one of his best robes to visit his soon-to-be bride the next morning. The walk to the family’s house was short as they were among the nobility of the Fire Nation and lived within 20 minutes of the royal palace, in the heart of Caldera City. Wonwoo had done some additional research on the lady he had picked with the help of Jeonghan. Since he wasn’t able to pick a bride the traditional way, he wanted to try to lessen the chance of unhappiness in the marriage by trying to pick someone with qualities he respected, which is how he landed on you.

Y/n L/n: the daughter of a high-ranking government official who worked in Ancient Studies and the Preservation of Fire Nation Culture. Wonwoo had heard that your father was quite the fire-bending expert, though it was said that you did not possess the gift. You were renowned for your beauty and intelligence, as well as a kind heart.

If it was true that you fit the description, Wonwoo had high hopes that even if he didn’t fall in love, he would still be able to proudly say that you were his wife. He just hoped that you wouldn’t despise him. He didn’t have the best track record when it came to romance.

Being busy with his princely duties and preparing for the throne all his life, whenever he received any romantic gestures or subtle flirting from girls, they usually went right over his head. He didn’t have the slightest grasp on the concept of flirting or reciprocating emotions, and since it wasn’t something that came naturally to him as a teen, he always assumed that he would learn later in life. He had always expected there to be plenty of years for him to find a wife when he felt ready. He certainly hadn’t bet on being rushed into it when he was barely 22.

But this was the way things had panned out, and Wonwoo had no choice but to face it head on. He was the Fire Lord now. There was no room for nervousness.

He left his guards by the gate of the house, strolling through the pleasant front gardens by himself. There was a stone pathway that led to the front of the house. He took his time getting there, stopping to smell the flowers that had been planted on either side. His real intention of getting to the door as slowly as possible was his quickly growing nerves in the pit of his stomach, but he masked it well.

As soon as he knocked on the door (Wonwoo swore even before he opened the door), it was opened by family servants. They immediately bowed at him and welcomed him inside, leading him towards a large sitting room where the family was waiting for him.

His eyes immediately fell on you, and without even knowing, his lips upturned into a small smile. The portrait he had been given of you really didn’t do you any justice. You were infinitely better in person, he thought. He introduced himself and took a seat, preparing for the conversation that would unfold in the next hour or more.

He could tell that you were nervous as you talked. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap each time you had to answer a question Wonwoo or your father posed, and for some reason, it made Wonwoo feel more at ease. He was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious over this first meeting, though he was sure no one would be able to tell. He had perfected his public speaking at the age of twelve.

The basic introductions and formalities were coming to an end after almost an hour of speaking. Wonwoo had clarified all the expectations that would come of being a Fire Lady and your father seemed overjoyed that Wonwoo was taking interest in his daughter.

“It seems this conversation is dying down a little. Would you mind if I talked with Y/n alone? Perhaps we could take a walk around the garden?” Wonwoo asked gently and was met with enthusiasm from both your parents.

“Of course! Take as long as you want with her.”

You led the way out to the back garden which Wonwoo found to be even more charming than the front garden. There were twice as many flowers, as well as a stone fountain in the centre of the grounds. What Wonwoo found most pleasing was the small turtle duck pond nestled by a tree. He made his way over to it with you.

“I hope you’re not… opposed to this marriage?” Wonwoo started tentatively, first addressing his biggest fear.

Thankfully, you smiled and shook your head, “I would be a fool to be opposed to a marriage to the Fire Lord.”

“But, are you not disappointed?” He asked.

Again, you shook your head, “You must be referring to the fact that we are not marrying for love? Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can? I know I will be making my parents happy with this, and I am flattered that I, of all the Fire Nation, seemed to catch your attention. I wouldn’t have accepted this marriage if I hadn’t considered thoroughly all that it would entail. I’m ready to commit to being your wife, though I am not sure why you sought out me.”

Wonwoo smiled, “You don’t seem to give yourself enough credit. Your list of accomplishments was longer than any of the other ladies.”

“My ‘list’?” You questioned, digging into your pocket to pull out a small piece of wrapped up fabric.

“Yes,” Wonwoo laughed softly, “Given the rush for this marriage, I was given a list of ladies to pick from to make it easier.”

You unfolded the piece of fabric, revealing some small pieces of bread, and crouched down to toss one piece into the water. A baby turtle duck swam up to eat it immediately, the others following along, hoping to get a piece of the bread too. Wonwoo smiled again, watching you feed the turtle ducks with care. He hoped you would like the turtle duck pond at the palace as well.

“What accomplishments were on that list… If I may ask?” You were curious. You didn’t view your life as particularly grand or accomplished. You had spent most of your childhood sheltered and started school late.

“You graduated top of your class from one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. I heard you took up a variety of extra classes beyond the basics, including painting and even army history despite not being able to firebend. Your list of charity work was particularly long. If I remember correctly… over ten different organizations are in your name?”

“I’m glad they included that, at least. It might be one of the only things I’m actually good at.” You mumbled, and Wonwoo furrowed his eyebrows.

You stood up again to face him, “Is it true that you own a dragon?”

Wonwoo was partially taken aback by your question, but he answered it nonetheless, “Yes. Part of my firebending training was studying the behaviours of Huoyan. We learned together. She was just a baby when I got her. I owe my firebending skills more so to her than any of my past masters.”

You watched Wonwoo talk about his dragon, intent on the way his eyes— which had been dull and tired looking all during his visit— seemed to brighten and sparkle as soon as he started telling you about Huoyan. You had always been interested in animals, particularly Fire Nation ones. You took close care of the turtle ducks, but because you couldn’t firebend, you were never allowed to own a dragon.

“She sounds incredible. If you wouldn’t mind…” You started, your cheeks flushing halfway through. You weren’t sure if what you were about to ask was entirely appropriate— you could be majorly overstepping. The way Wonwoo was waiting expectantly pushed you to complete it, though. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?”

Wonwoo graced you with a smile back, “Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?” Wonwoo suggested, and was met with your ready agreement. You asked again if you really had his word to complete the request. You wouldn’t rest until you were sure of his sincerity. You grinned when he promised— within the first week of being at the palace, in fact, you would be well acquainted with his dragon.

Wonwoo had other meetings for the day, so he had to leave shortly after your discussion about dragons. The next time you would see him, he would be your husband. You wondered how living with him would be. Would it feel awkward and cold like your conversation in the house or would it feel warm and honest like the brief discussion about dragons?

You hoped it would be the latter, but you soon found that your hope only led to disappointment.

Your wedding to Wonwoo was a very public affair. All the nobles and half of the middle class of the Fire Nation were invited to the ceremony. While you weren’t unused to public events from growing up in the nobility, the massive number of people attending a royal event as prestigious as a wedding was definitely foreign to you. You used to be part of the crowd and only very rarely the subject of attention. Given that you were becoming the Fire Lady, you would have to get used to the attention quickly.

There was no chance to talk to Wonwoo before the ceremony, despite getting ready at the palace. The servants helped you with your wedding garments, which were fancier than anything you had ever put on before. The gold elements of the luxurious silk robe were hand-sewn on and glimmered when the light shone on them. They depicted flames of gold and red, and even the red thread seemed to shine brightly. The dress was mostly made up of a rich dark red material which was lightweight but clearly much higher quality than anything you could buy at a market.

The maids applied gold shimmer to your eyes as well as a dark red lip, as was traditional of the wife of the Fire Lord. The last piece of your outfit was an elegant headpiece. It, too, was gold and was pinned uncomfortably tight into your hair to keep from slipping.

You looked in the mirror one last time before the ceremony, turning your face to the side to view every angle with scrutiny. These were your last few minutes as just the daughter of nobility. Within half an hour, you would be the new wife of Fire Lord Wonwoo, ruler of the Fire Nation.

As soon as you stepped into the view of the public, there were deafening cheers. More than half the Fire Nation was in attendance, it seemed. Such a cause for celebration hadn’t happened in years.

The public had always been nosy about the personal lives of the royal family. There were groups of people who loved to romanticise it and believed that every royal wedding only came about when a son or daughter of the royal family had fallen into the deepest of love.

There were people with a bit more sense, thankfully. They still wished you and Wonwoo to have the happiest marriage possible, but their judgement wasn’t clouded with the unrealistic idea that royals had the luxury of marrying for love.

You could only hope that Wonwoo would fall in love with you. You believed yourself capable of loving him if you were sure he loved you back. Until you were sure, though, you took everything with healthy apprehension. You weren’t going to allow your mind to be clouded with the softness and warmth that you had felt from him during your walk in the garden. Your mother had always told you that you couldn’t judge a person by how they acted when they were trying to make a good first impression. You needed to watch and silently observe— and only then would you know the true nature of your husband.

This is why your eyes stayed firmly on Wonwoo throughout the ceremony and afterparty. The public thought you were enamoured with him, oblivious to the fact that you had barely spent more than two hours in his presence. You were eager for the wedding to finally be over, hoping in your mind that Wonwoo would invite you to meet Huoyan after.

He did not, though. Instead, he bowed to you and said he had some things to attend to before retreating back to his chambers, letting the servants show you to your new room. You were disheartened when you realized it was almost on the opposite side of the palace from Wonwoo’s. What kind of married couple slept so far apart? Even the justification of this being an arranged political marriage didn’t constitute that level of separation.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, contemplating the issue. Your brain was screaming to bring it up with Wonwoo. How were you supposed to get close to him when you were separated during the day and during the night? He was your husband. There was no reason why you couldn’t bring it up with him.

But what if he wanted to be separate from you? You thought about the possibilities for minutes before finally dismissing it. You felt nervous at the thought of asking him about it first. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him that freely yet— you were sure you would sound entitled if you did.

You hoped that the situation was just a result of how the royal palace worked, and not because Wonwoo had no wish to get to know you more. Despite growing up a nobel, you had never set foot inside the royal palace and were ignorant to its inner workings. But there was still time to learn.

You spent the next 2 weeks familiarizing yourself with the palace and your responsibilities as Fire Lady. There weren’t many— especially compared to the Fire Lord’s responsibilities— but it was enough to keep you busy for a few hours of the day. They were mostly social matters, enriching yourself with the people of the nation, and listening to their concerns.

You quite liked the work you were given. You had always excelled at finding solutions to tricky problems, and it stimulated your brain much more than at home. The times you were working were the best part of your day. When you were left on your own in the palace, you succumbed to boredom. It was big and empty inside— the only warmth in the place coming from the elaborate flames used as decoration. It didn’t feel like home to you, so you spent most of your day by the turtle duck pond in the gardens. Though you longed for some human interaction, the turtle ducks at least kept you company.

One thing continued to bother you, though.

You barely saw Wonwoo at all.

Since your wedding, you had only had two other conversations with him in 2 weeks, each of which only lasted for a few minutes. Wonwoo woke up earlier than you did and didn’t wait for you to come down to eat breakfast to start on his tasks as Fire Lord for the day. He would often go on overnight trips without informing you, which made you feel almost invisible to him.

Whenever you crossed paths with him inside the palace, he was very clearly on his way to somewhere important and couldn’t spare any time for you. You had started to try to initiate conversations with him in hopes that a little effort would break the ice between you two— just simple things like asking about his work or how his day had been. He responded gently, but it was very clear in his tone that he had no desire to continue talking to you. It had been unsuccessful so far, as each conversation ended abruptly when one of the servants called for Wonwoo’s attention or he excused himself from your presence.

You often saw him talking to his advisor: Jeonghan. He seemed to follow your husband around everyday with a huge pile of scrolls. You assumed they were the daily tasks of the Fire Lord.

You were the last person to interrupt someone when they were so clearly busy working, so you kept to yourself as much as you could. Despite your loneliness and constant boredom, time seemed to pass quickly. April fourteenth marked six months post the wedding. By this time, it was quite usual for you to not even see Wonwoo at the palace for weeks at a time.

You didn’t ask for much. You were never a greedy or dependent person. But the lack of attention given from Wonwoo had started to affect you more than you realized. You used to be social and bright, filled with energy to tend to people’s issues or helping animals. Now, you barely even went out to the market anymore.

You had become rather dull and cold to Wonwoo whenever you saw him, hoping that he might pick up on your change of demeanour and fix something in his attitude, but he seemed as oblivious as ever. In your head, you had absolutely resigned to the fact that your husband did not care for you at all, and that the rest of your marriage would carry on in this sad lonely state. He still slept in his room that was on the other side of the palace from you. He still kept busy with duties all day long. He still woke up earlier than you and turned in early (you had started to think that he was doing this to purposefully avoid you). You felt hopeless and your loneliness brought with it depression.

You even felt a little betrayed by him. He had made several promises to your father that first meeting, one of which was that you would be sure to be happy and content at the palace. He couldn’t have been more wrong on that.

Your brain also kept going back to his later promise that he made to you in the garden— that you would get to meet Huoyan as soon as you moved in. All these months, you had clung in vain to that side of Wonwoo in the garden. If he was truly like that to you everyday, you were sure you would’ve fallen deeply in love with him.

But now you knew for certain that it was all just an act. You had been wrong about Wonwoo all this time. He had no intention of getting to know you. The warmth you had once felt from him was truly a one-time thing. You didn’t expect that he would ever showcase that sincerity to you ever again.

Over time, you slowly lost interest in making an effort, and retreated further into your new life of solitude. There was a lot you could do in your room, big open space secluded from the rest of the palace. With a quick trip to the palace armoury one late night, you found yourself a new hobby.

If you had done this right after your wedding, you would’ve made sure to ask Wonwoo about it first; another precaution in hopes of being a “good wife” and “one that he could grow to love”. Having tried everything you possibly could think of and failing at that task, though, you didn’t care if he minded or not. The servants all took your orders as the Fire Lady without any questioning, and you quickly learned to use your position of power to keep yourself entertained enough to not entirely lose your mind stuck doing nothing for months.

And so, with two borrowed long swords from Wonwoo’s collection, one sharp dagger, fifteen ancient martial arts scrolls and five sword-fighting ones, you dedicated yourself to the art of self defense and battle. If you were careful enough, Wonwoo would hear nothing about this.

Wonwoo had been anticipating Mingyu’s arrival back home for weeks. It was unsurprising that he had taken twice the expected amount of time to get back home than any other general would have. Mingyu’s skills at directing a fleet of ships were… questionable. No one could strip him of his position, though. His title as prince overruled any judgement from any of his crew.

“Wonwoo! How have you- Ow!”

Wonwoo looked up from the map he was studying, quick enough to catch Mingyu hop forward in pain, clutching his foot from where he had bumped it against the edge of a table. Wonwoo smiled. He had a lot of affection for his younger brother, no matter how incompetent he was sometimes. And though he would never admit it, he had missed him while he had been gone for a year.

“I’ve been well. It’s still the same here. Quiet. Especially when you’re away.” Wonwoo commented, rolling up the map and setting it aside.

“It’s still the same? Father died, you became Fire Lord, and you got yourself a wife, yet it’s still the same?!” Mingyu asked incredulously. Wonwoo could only nod, stepping down from the throne to walk with Mingyu.

“How is married life?” Mingyu asked once the two were walking out of the throne room.

Wonwoo shrugged, “I thought it would be different from being single, but it barely is. I still spend most of my time in solitude.”

“Don’t you talk to her?”

Wonwoo paused before answering, “I don’t see her much. We both seem to be rather busy.”

“Do you at least make an effort to talk to her when you can? You can’t be that busy. No matter how many tasks you had, I know you still drink tea with Jeonghan every day.” Mingyu pointed out, disappointed in his brother’s excuses. “I know you were always hopeless when it comes to this, but you must have considered how lonely she must feel in solitary in this massive palace, right?” Mingyu studied Wonwoo’s face carefully, sighing when he caught the guilty look in his eyes which he had hoped would not appear.

“So let me get this straight,” He took a breath, “You married one of the prettiest ladies in all of the Fire Nation, only to never talk to her and then wonder why married life is so quiet?”

Wonwoo admitted to it in a hesitant mutter, causing Mingyu to groan.

“God, you’re stupider than I thought! At this rate, she’ll want to break off the marriage, Wonwoo. Don’t you see that she has the power to ruin your reputation as Fire Lord if she chooses? If you don’t remedy this, she could tell the entire Fire Nation that their beloved Fire Lord is a cold and cruel man with no affection for his wife, despite her efforts to get closer to him.” Mingyu stated clearly.

Wonwoo frowned. He had never thought of that possibility before. “It’s been… almost a year since our wedding already.” Wonwoo realized, shocked at how fast the time had all gone. The days seemed to bleed into one another, and with his lack of sleep keeping up with daily tasks, you were often the last thing on his mind.

“Do you think it’s even possible to make it up to her now?”

“Well, yes, you have worsened your chances of fixing it by studiously ignoring her existence for 12 months, but you shouldn’t feel completely hopeless. If you put in the right amount of effort, she might come around.”

“What should a husband do to try to win the affection of his wife?” Wonwoo asked, feeling completely overwhelmed at the situation.

“Send her flowers, do her favourite activities together, take her on dates, devote time to her! And for God’s sake, don’t forget your own wedding anniversary! You can’t expect her to care for you when you don’t give her any of your time.” Mingyu explained frustratedly. Among the two brothers, he was definitely the more experienced when it came to love. Unlike Wonwoo, he actually had time to date amongst his other commitments.

Wonwoo felt a pit in his stomach, an uncomfortable lurch in his core that was screeching out all the mistakes he had made. He realized in an instant how truly awful he had been treating you without even knowing it. He had foolishly assumed that you, being of nobility already, would do fine on your own in the palace. Given the nature of the marriage, he hadn’t even considered your possible desire to get closer to him, or the stress that would come with being uprooted so abruptly, going from your own familiar living space to the deafening quiet of the royal palace. Now that he was aware of all of these errors on his part, he felt a strange crack in his heart; an ache that couldn’t be soothed without knowing that he could make you happy again.

He had made many mistakes— almost innumerable. As his brain raced, it only pulled more and more instances of your clear discomfort that he had never bothered to pay attention to before this moment. He thought back to every interaction he had with you over the months, and it was never more clear to him that you had only been comfortable around him during your first meeting together. The feelings that the dragon conversation had brought in both of you had never been repeated.

Wonwoo now knew what he needed to do. He was determined to get you back to the way you were smiling and laughing that first conversation. He needed to fulfil his promises— however late he was to that. And he had a hope that the key to setting everything to rights was sleeping on his back doorstep: Huoyan.

Your mental health had significantly improved since you had picked up your new hobby. It gave you a thrilling surge of excitement whenever you were able to pick up the two long swords from the box under your bed. It was more dangerous than anything you had ever been allowed to try as a nobleman’s daughter— yet, it was always something you had been interested in.

You liked delicate things well enough. Sewing and painting and dancing were all enjoyable hobbies, but they never truly excited you as much as dragons or firebending or sword fighting. You had grown up watching your father teach Fire Nation history and demonstrate some of the very first fire bending techniques; learned straight from the dragons.

Tried as you did when you were a child, you could never seem to produce a single spark or flame. It disheartened you early on in life, and once that fantasy of adventure had been shut down, your father never saw the point in teaching you sword fighting. You had been disclosed to be a gentleman’s lady: one who sat still and looked pretty and smiled a lot. But now that you had the tools and authority, you weren’t one to let this chance to indulge your inner child go.

You quickly got in the habit of sneaking out to test your quickly improving skills in the real world. You used the training grounds in the middle of the night when no one would see you, and after a couple months, you felt confident enough to go even further. You found a list of active criminals in the Fire Nation and took it upon yourself to take them on.

Charity work had always been your favourite— helping people had always been your passion. It fuelled you like nothing else had, and each night that you snuck back into the palace having successfully taken down another threat was another night you slept soundly.

It wasn’t long until the Fire Nation started to notice. A new hero taking out the nation’s top criminals— ones that not even the royal guard had been able to capture. They named you The Scarlet Shadow for your dark crimson and black robes and your proficiency in the art of stealth. Your smaller frame and stature helped you get around unseen. You used the shadows to your advantage, slipping in and out of them without being caught.

It was incredible how much you learned without a dedicated master. You wished you could hire one, but you didn’t want to be found out by Wonwoo, so you kept everything as secretive as possible. You spent the entire day reading scrolls and practicing in the privacy of your room. Once the sun set and you had told the servants you were sleeping early yet again, you snuck out.

It was now the first week of October, and you were dreadfully reminded that your first wedding anniversary would come on the fourteenth of the month. The first six months had been some of the worst of your life— mercilessly having been ignored and made to feel insignificant by your own husband. But the latter six brought some of the best months of your life.

The freedom of The Scarlet Shadow completely disconnected you from your duties as the Fire Lady. It brought a freedom that you never had, and if this was how you would be spending the rest of your life in the palace, you would gladly accept it.

Your target for tonight— the fourth of October— was an infamous and nefarious man named Orin. He was known to capture children from homeless Fire Nation families with an excuse of paying taxes. He then sold them to the rich and corrupt as slaves. The abuse didn’t stop there, as many of them were malnourished, overworked, never paid, and even beaten.

Your heart ached for the victims of the man. You had known about this situation for years, but was never able to do anything about it. Given his reputation, Orin would have probably taken one look at you before being determined to marry you. You could only wonder at what horrors his past wives had to go through. They had all run away from him as soon as possible. Some, less fortunate ones, had died trying.

You got dressed in your garments: a black and red robe that was easy to move and fight in. It was stealthy, and didn’t make any sound when you walked in it unlike the fancy bejewelled silk robes that you wore as Fire Lady. You sheathed the long swords and stuck the dagger safely in your shoe, ready to pull out and throw when you needed to. You pulled up the black cloth over your nose, shielding all but your eyes so that no one could identify you.

And then, you jumped out the window.

It was a cold night: one of the first proper ones in October. Given the change of the season, more people were sleeping earlier. Most of the city was hushed and in their beds already, which made your task even easier. It was always more risky to navigate in the summertime when night festivals were held until morning.

Orin’s house (or mansion, that is) was on the East side of town. The man slept late, usually partying until the early hours of the morning. You wished you could get the job done while he was sleeping, but it would be too risky. If anyone found out that you weren’t at the palace, you would never hear the end of it from your personal servants and advisors. You grimaced, thinking what Wonwoo would think of this whole situation.

You weren’t sure why he was always on your mind. Everything you did came back to him, even though you still didn’t know him. You had always thought that the relationship between a husband and his wife should be intimate and companionable. You wanted to be able to tell your husband anything and everything— to be able to confide in him and seek comfort when you needed it. You wanted to be taken care of, and in turn, take care of him. You wanted the supporting relationship that you had seen in your parents.

And though you knew that Wonwoo had none of these qualities, you still held out hope that he would one day improve. You had seen many people have changes of heart; even the cruelest man had a chance to change his ways.

When you had first met Wonwoo, you had been overcome with just how beautiful he was. You had been so sure that his heart must be as beautiful as his face, foolishly having fallen for his charming smile and pleasant offers which you now knew were just a facade to win you over. Your chest tightened thinking about how wrong you were.

Yes, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His dark silky hair always fell perfectly over his forehead, hitting just below his eye, complementing his face shape. He always dressed in only the finest silk. You admitted to being guilty of admiring his figure from afar. You were sure he was in shape— any firebender who trained as vigorously as he definitely was. You had never seen more than a sliver of his collarbone; but it was enough to confirm that he had enough muscle to run a nation.

And that was something you did admire about him. He was able to run the Fire Nation to perfection. Within the first months of being Fire Lord, he had already come up with several clever solutions to problems that his late father had started. He was healing the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom through his younger brother, Mingyu. He sent diplomats to the other 2 nations as well, promising aid in any crisis that might arise. He preached peace and harmony between the 4 nations, and you were glad he wasn’t a proud Fire Lord with elitist ideals, but a humble and honest one.

You still held respect for him as a Fire Lord, but any respect that you had for him as a person was dwindling the more days spent as if you didn’t exist. You longed to be noticed, to be treated as an actual person. You didn’t need to experience love, but you had always wanted to. Didn’t you deserve to at least once?

Wonwoo huffed, sweat beading on his forehead and back from the challenging training he had set himself to do. He breathed, and with each breath came new sparks of fire. It was hot in the room, but he barely noticed, too focused on the new skill he was attempting to master. It was a sort of jet propulsion— using the flames he was able to create to propel him forward at a high speed.

Huoyan watched him from the corner where she napped. Her red scales brandished against the warm light that came from the fire in the room. Since Wonwoo was 13, he had stopped taking lessons from the palace masters and learned on his own with Huoyan instead. She was a strict master, one could say; but the bond he had created with her was stronger than anything else.

Wonwoo attempted the move again, faltering at the last second, causing the blast to hit the ceiling in an uneven flurry. He groaned and fell to the ground, frustrated at how long it was taking. He used to be the quickest learner in the Fire Nation. He was able to focus all his attention on mastering new skills with ease, and that allowed him to pick up on techniques twice as quickly as others.

He just couldn’t focus at all right now.

Huoyan whined from the corner, showing her disapproval of Wonwoo’s inability to pick things up quickly. He frowned, rolling to the side, still on the floor, and looked at her. She was curled up, almost catlike, her wings wrapped around her body like a blanket. But Wonwoo couldn’t miss the grumpy look on her face. He stood up and walked over to her, reaching out his hand to rest on her nose, scratching it gently.

“I’m sorry, Huoyan. I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to train right now…” He muttered, sitting down in front of the dragon. He reached over for his silk robe that he had folded before training, slipping his arms through the arm holes again but not bothering to tie it across his body. Huoyan licked Wonwoo's hand— a sign of affection and trust amongst dragons and their owners, and Wonwoo smiled.

“Do you think she hates me?” Wonwoo asked quietly, not really looking for an answer from the dragon, though she gave him a low rumble. “Right. She probably does. I would hate me too…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had been thinking of you ever since Mingyu had come to visit almost a month ago. It was all he could think about. The guilt was eating him up from the inside out. Whenever he heard mention of you, his stomach lurched forward and the guilt practically doubled.

“I don’t know what I need to prioritize anymore. I prepared my whole life for being the Fire Lord… I’ve learned what to do in situations and what choices to make that keep the wellbeing of the entire nation at its core. But no one prepared me for being a husband. How do I even make it up to her?” He frowned.

He had always confided in Huoyan. As ridiculous as it sounded to talk to a dragon, Wonwoo had always found it the most natural. She couldn’t give him responses like Mingyu or Jeonghan, but she had insights that they didn’t. She couldn’t talk, but Wonwoo could still understand her. Their bond was strong enough for that.

He was too scared to talk to Jeonghan about his struggles. He was sure that he would laugh at him, unable to see how serious the problem was. He had never had any problem with dating or love.

“How do I show her that I care?” Wonwoo questioned. Huoyan huffed, making Wonwoo scowl and raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course I care about her! She’s my wife. It’s a husband’s duty to care for his wife.”

Huoyan shifted, tucking her wings closer to her chest and wagging her long tail along the floor.

“You’re right, I haven’t been showing her any attention… But… I have noticed her. I always have. She looked hopeful… and then… it was gone. I-I watched it fade away. Her eyes stopped shining. They’ve been dull for months.” He explained, distraught. “I wanted to talk to her. She always caught me at my busiest— or maybe I’m just… too nervous? You should see her Huoyan. She’s prettier than you. I’ve never seen anyone so… angelic. She used to try to start conversations with me; ask about my day and the sort. I wanted to keep talking to her but my heart would race so fast in my chest. It felt… uncomfortable.” He narrated with a small smile. Huoyan listened intently, her eyes closed. Every once and a while she would give a response— a grunt or a huff whenever Wonwoo was being unreasonable.

The conversation proved incredibly productive thanks to Huoyan’s sharp ears. Wonwoo was able to let out all his thoughts. Explaining them out loud helped him understand where things had gone wrong and how he could fix them. He decided to talk to you tonight. No more avoiding it out of fear, no more suppressing the guilt he felt. He would lay it all out to you; admit to every mistake.

He needed to earn your trust, and he would do that with being painfully honest. He knew his ego would take a massive blow, but it already had. It was dwindling. The great Fire Lord that he had always aspired to be wasn’t able to even win over his own wife. The thought was laughable.

The walk down the corridor towards your bedroom was filled with nerves. His throat felt dry as he gave a gentle knock to your door. When he didn’t hear a response, his heart sank, but he knocked again. Did you hate him so much that you weren’t even willing to listen to him?

His chest tightened at the thought. He felt entirely helpless. If you wouldn’t even listen to him, there was nothing else he could try. He knocked one more time, calling out that he would open the door if you didn’t say anything.

There was no response, and so he pushed it open slowly.

The room was empty, and Wonwoo’s eyes widened. You had nowhere to go except for the palace and the servants had informed him that you had gone to bed early and should be in your room.

Panic flooded through every inch of Wonwoo’s body. From the top of his head to his finger tips. His hands started to shake as he thought of all the possibilities.

The most likely of which? Kidnapping.

You were a nobleman’s daughter. You weren’t a firebender— you couldn’t defend yourself. You were the Fire Lady, an extremely desirable victim for enemies of the Fire Nation who wished to get some leverage over Wonwoo. His mind raced to the possibilities of needing to choose between you and whatever the people who took you wanted.

If it were a case of life or death, he would choose you in an instant.

Thanks to his extensive training, Wonwoo was easily able to think of the best move to take. Mingyu had brought with him a pack of shirshu from the Earth Kingdom. They were excellent trackers. They would be able to find you faster than Wonwoo’s search party could.

He found one of your headpieces from on top of your vanity and took it. He was in a frenzied rush, calling over his personal guards to come with him in case he needed backup. He had the shirshu sniff the headpiece, a relieved sigh escaping him when the animal seemed to pick up on your trail. He mounted Huoyan and had the guards go with the Shirshu, and started on the hasty search.

His heart was racing the entire time. Each time it looked like the shirshu had picked up on something, his heart rate felt like it doubled. It didn’t take long to find where you were, but when Wonwoo realized the location, his heart completely sank.

Orin was well known in the upper circle of the Fire Nation, and he was without a doubt, the most sickening man Wonwoo had ever met. His father had held a position in government and Orin had inherited it. Though Wonwoo wanted to arrest the man or even banish him from the Fire Nation, he didn’t have the means to expose him for his wrongdoings yet.

Kidnapping was one thing, but knowing that you were in the hands of Orin had Wonwoo’s stomach twisting inside out. He had never felt so sick to his stomach. And worst of all, it was all mostly directed towards himself. He hated himself.

If he had taken better care of you then this would never have happened. If he had paid attention to you— made sure you were safe and happy and looked after. If he had gotten over his stupid nerves and been a good husband, then you would never have had to have suffered like this.

Until he saw you with his own eyes, he could only pray with his entire being that you were still alive. He didn’t even want to think about the things Orin could do to you. Would he manipulate you? Threaten you? Take advantage of you? Harm you? Kill you?

He didn’t wait another second to storm into the house, startling the servants who quickly got out of the way. He quickly made a search through the entire house, his guards taking the lower floors while he took the upper. He blasted down the door to Orin’s bedchambers with firebending, not wasting a second to rush in.

What he found there was certainly not what he expected. The man was lying on the floor, a pool of blood underneath him, dripping out from a heavy stab wound to his chest. It was obvious that he wouldn’t survive more than 10 minutes at the most.

Before he took his chance to interrogate Orin, he saw a dark figure jumping out of the window from his peripheral vision. Was it the person who killed Orin? Then… Could they have taken you?

Wonwoo quickly changed his course, believing that going after the assassin would be more productive. If they had killed Orin then they must also know where you were, and maybe even, what Orin had done to you. He knew better than to trust anything Orin said to him. It was likely that even if he asked, the man would lie even until his dying breath. Honesty had never been one of Orin’s virtues. Not that he had any of those to begin with.

It was hard to pursue a person dressed in black and dark red during the night time. Wonwoo was thinking with a panicked and terrified brain— and so the easiest way he thought of to see where he was going was to firebend. He tried to be careful as he sprinted, shooting flames in front of him when he needed to. Sweat was building up as the exertion started to take a toll on his body. He needed to catch his breath; calm himself down from the panic he was dealing with. But the assassin was almost within reach, so he pushed his body just a little further.

He blasted one more flame forwards, but due to his exhaustion, it wasn’t perfectly aimed. It hit the assassin square in the back, knocking them to the ground roughly. Wonwoo’s eyes widened and he rushed forward.

He heard them cough, trying to roll on the ground to put out the flame, but it had clearly already burned through their garments. They screamed as the fire scorched their skin. Wonwoo felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had never used firebending so carelessly before. Even in an Agni Kai, he was focused and precise. He had rarely been in combat that wasn’t for training purposes, and even when he was, he knew how important it was to stay in control of fire. It was known that fire was the easiest element to lose control of; and so, the first thing that new firebenders were taught was the first rule of fire bending to never break: never lose control of your flame.

But Wonwoo had done just that.

Wonwoo quickly put out the flame on the assassin’s back, grimacing at the bright red scorch marks they had left on their skin. From the design of the robes, he quickly realized that this wasn’t just any assassin. He had come in contact with The Scarlet Shadow.

He quickly pushed her back so that her face was up, holding her shoulders so that her exposed back couldn’t come into contact with the rubble on the road. His hand trembled as he moved to pull down the black fabric covering the assassin’s face. She needed to be able to breath easily after being burned so badly.

Wonwoo had already been through enough panic tonight, but this was more than anything else. The face he was faced with once he removed the cloth was the last one he ever expected. Soft eyebrows, delicate eyelashes closed over eyes that he knew well, perfect lips parted to let uneven heaves escape, cheeks tainted with dirt and scraped from the fall.

“No… N-no…” He struggled to breath, holding her up as carefully as he could. His eyes stung with tears that he refused to let fall and his chest constricted for the fifth time that night. It had all gone wrong from the start— his attempts to help had all backfired. And now he was faced with a reality that felt like a stab to the heart.

Wonwoo had burned his own wife.

Wonwoo’s brain made sure to remind him of his very first conversation with you as Huoyan flew him back to the palace, you securely in his arms. You had asked to meet his dragon. You had been excited to, even making sure he promised to. Those promises had burned to the ground like everything else. He would never allow himself to forget the sparkle in your eyes as you asked him. He hadn’t seen the same shimmer of excitement since you had first become his wife.

“Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?”

He had smiled at your question back then. He had been pleasantly surprised that you seemed so interested in dragons. It wasn’t what he would have expected from you, but it gave him hope that he would be able to go closer to you. He had also always loved dragons.

“Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?”

Take you for a ride on her. That promise was finally being completed now, in the worst way Wonwoo could ever imagine. He held you a little closer as he thought about it, his heavy breath dispersing into the air with every heavy sweep of Huoyan’s wings.

He would never forgive himself.

The healers at the royal palace were the nation’s best, and Wonwoo made sure that they had strict orders to give you their full attention. He couldn’t leave the room; couldn’t bear to think of leaving you again. No, he would stick by your side from now on. He would never leave you alone. He would devote all his attention— his heart, his mind, his body, his soul to loving you. He would make sure you never questioned his affections again.

As he watched the healers apply medicinal creams and ointment to your back, he was again reminded of that very first conversation with you.

“Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can?”

Your hope and optimism was something Wonwoo should have cherished. Your faith that a love-filled marriage was still possible for you was a quality that he could only wish he possessed. He had been entirely foolish. He had made every mistake possible to make. He had watched silently as all that hope and excitement and trust had faded from your body.

He would never forgive himself.

He always saw you roaming the corridors alone. You often went out to feed the turtle ducks. They were your only company other than the servants. Wonwoo assumed at first that you would immediately find ways of entertaining yourself. You had all the power you could wish for; anyone would bend knee and foot to your every command. You could host extravagant balls or buy gifts for yourself from across the world. You could wear the most precious gemstones and fabrics in the entire Fire Nation.

But you never did. Your humbleness had stuck with you all this time. It was something that Wonwoo could not take away from you. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not. The virtue was admirable, but if you had not possessed it, could you have been happier?

Wonwoo shook his head. It was all too late for these trifling what if’s and maybe’s. The past was set in stone, unchangeable. All he could do was look to the future with hope and treat the present with the proper determination to change his ways.

Your burns were severe. Being blasted by such a powerful fireball from such a short distance had certainly left an impression. Wonwoo cried when he first saw it. Red, angry, scorched skin marked right in the middle of your back, sticking out awfully against your otherwise smooth skin. It was all because of him. He had left a second mark on you— one much more visible than the first. He had damaged your mind, and now, he had damaged your body. The guilt he carried was sickening.

Wonwoo asked Jeonghan to cancel every single responsibility for the next 4 months. Jeonghan panicked, of course. It was nearly impossible to expect the Fire Lord to do nothing for that long, but Wonwoo was firm in his request, and somehow, Jeonghan managed it.

He spent most of his time by your bedside, looking after you as carefully as he could. He ordered the healers to show him how to properly wrap your wound and apply new medicine, and once he was sure he could do it properly, he assured them that he would take care of it.

Huoyan slept closeby as well, knowing that Wonwoo wouldn’t leave your side, but wanting to be a listening ear if he needed it. Wonwoo was grateful for that, and used the opportunity well. Daily talks to the dragon helped him clear his thoughts and understand his feelings. Huoyan couldn’t lift the guilt, though.

There was only one person who could.

Wonwoo anticipated when you would wake up for more than a week. He needed constant reassurance from the healers that this was normal. Your body needed to conserve its energy to focus on healing itself. The medicine helped, but it was your own body that was going to heal it.

It took ten days for you to regain consciousness.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was excruciating pain in your back. You felt like you barely had any strength in your body. Everything felt as if you were in a daze, and your memory was extremely foggy. You couldn’t remember anything from the last month.

When you gathered enough strength to open your eyes, the first thing you saw was the symbol of the Fire Nation. A large red tapestry was hung on the wall, at least four times the length of your body. You couldn’t see much else besides it, as you were lying on your stomach, your head resting on the pillow sideways.

Ah. The palace.

You sighed, but immediately regretted it as any movement brought more shocked pain to your back. You grimaced, a pained whine escaping your lips. You felt relief before you could register the reason why, and forced your eyes open.

It was Wonwoo, pressing a cool cloth against your bandaged back gently.

Wait.

It was Wonwoo?!

“Wonwoo?” You questioned, your voice softer than you were used to. It would still take some time to get your energy back— even talking felt like more exertion than comfortable.

“Y/n. Don’t talk, please. It will only tire you out.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Wonwoo sounded different. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, but soft and full of worry. You were sure of it. It was impossible to miss. He was… worried about you?

“Wonwoo?” You asked again with a little more urgency. You felt the cloth on your back stop moving. He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue your thought. Clearly you wanted to talk, and though he didn’t like the idea of you overexerting yourself, there were many things that you were probably curious about.

“Why are you… doing that?” You were almost scared to ask. Your own sensibility forbade you from blindly trusting Wonwoo in the moment, even though your heart was screaming for it. He was so close to you (literally within 30 cm of your face), and it was all you had wanted in the past. You had just wanted to be close to your husband. You wanted to love him, and for him to love you back.

You forced yourself to be rational and not fold immediately, though everything about him was entrancing you at this moment. The smell of bergamot hit your nose and almost distracted you completely from the pain in your back. Wonwoo’s touch was soft and hesitant. He handled you as if you were a piece of glass that could shatter at any small impact. He had already hurt you enough for 1 lifetime. He never wanted to do it again.

“I want to take care of you. You’re badly injured, Y/n.” He muttered. You looked at his face, searching for sincerity in it. And it was there; clear as day. His eyes were scared and tired, as if he had barely gotten sleep in the last week.

“What… happened? Why- how did I get injured?” You demanded. Your throat was strained from the energy it took to speak, but you needed answers.

“I don’t want to distress you. You’re still in pain. Please, just… sleep for now?” He asked hopelessly.

You were torn. Sleep sounded like a dream right now, but you didn’t know if you could trust Wonwoo for answers later. You couldn’t figure him out— you didn’t know him; you couldn’t trust him. He changed like a switch after a year, and now you weren’t sure what to believe.

“Will you tell me later? Will you tell me everything?”

Wonwoo nodded, “Yes, of course. You are overdue for an… explanation. And I am sorry. I’ve treated you worse than an animal for the past year. I… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to regain your trust, but I want to. Please believe me— there’s nothing more I want to do than to make things right.” You saw his eyes get hazy, overcome with emotion; grief, remorse, self-loathing, hope. You wanted to believe him, and you barely had the energy to do otherwise, so you found yourself humming in small agreement. It seemed to put him at ease a bit. He relaxed his shoulders and stood up.

“I’ll be here if you need anything. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” He smiled at you— an expression you hadn’t seen from him since that very first meeting. This smile was sad, though. It couldn’t reach his eyes and it quickly fell back down. You wondered what it would look like in full. You wanted to see him smile brightly. You wanted to be able to be the cause of his smile; to be able to make him happy.

He drew the curtains to block out the sun that had just risen and walked out of your view. You closed your eyes and welcomed sleep, falling into dreams quickly. Your dream was unpleasant. You tried again and again to get Wonwoo’s attention and affection, only to be met with his old attitude. It was as if he was unaware of your existence. When you woke up, you had a bitter feeling in your chest.

You were in significantly less pain after your sleep. From the light outside, you reckoned it was a couple hours after dinner. You could sit up on your own, and you could feel your strength slowly coming back to you. You sat up quietly, having your first view of the room you were in. It was large and spacious. A large balcony was to the other side of it, decorated with elegant golden statues of two dragons. They were embracing each other; a couple.

You looked over to the dresser, and heat immediately spread up your neck and to your cheeks. You had caught Wonwoo changing his top robes. His back was right in your view. You couldn’t deny that you had pictured it before. Wonwoo had always been the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His skin was milky and smooth. His muscles were defined but he still kept a lean physique. Your eyes were trained on him as he slipped his arms through fresh red robes, tying the garment across his chest. It was only when he started turning around that you forced yourself to look away, pretending as if you hadn’t been staring.

“You’re awake.” Wonwoo commented, soon joining you on the bed— sitting on the edge of it. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling now?”

You shied away from his dark pupils that were examining your face. His eyes looked brighter and more refreshed than before— he looked more alive than he had hours ago, and you liked the look on him. He looked… prettier.

“I’m not in as much pain now. I slept okay… just had a bad dream.” You admitted, frowning at the thought. It was hard to trust that Wonwoo would keep being this nice to you. You had never been an attention seeker; usually you hated any kind of focus on you, but something about Wonwoo’s attention was pleasant and warm.

“A bad dream?” Wonwoo echoed, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What was it about?” You shied back slightly, unused to his contented look as he waited for you to respond.

“It was just… you were ignoring me again. In the dream. I hated it.” You whispered. Wonwoo’s eyes softened and saddened, and without thinking, he reached out to cup your cheek. He knew that he had hurt you by ignoring you all those months, but to know that it had hurt you this much? It felt like his already shattered heart was splintering into his insides, tearing apart his entire body and being.

“I am so sorry, Y/n… For not showing you the love you deserve, for ignoring you all that time. I don’t know if I have an explanation for it… there’s no excuse that justifies treating you like that. Especially you. I-I’ve thought about it every day since my brother’s visit. I’m ashamed to say that it took him to knock some sense into me. I would try to explain myself… but I’m afraid I’ll only sound selfish and stupid.” He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly and dropping his hand from your cheek.

“No. Tell me, Wonwoo. I want to know, no matter how bad it sounds. I want to know everything. You said you’d tell me everything.” You demanded. He nodded.

“You’re right. Are you… quite comfortable? Explaining it all might take some time. I’m still worried about your back.” Although it warmed your heart that he was so worried (the cute frown that he wore while trying to inspect if you were in pain had you melting), you cared the most about hearing what he had to say.

“I’m okay, Wonwoo. Don’t worry about me.” You reassured him. That was all it took to get him to start talking, and he started from the very beginning.

“After my father’s death, I had to find a wife quickly, as you know. I didn’t have time to deliberate much on who to pick— I just had my instincts to trust. I am certain I picked the right woman, though. You have never once disappointed me, Y/n. The fault was always on my part. I was the one who ignored you. I was the one who never tried to get closer. I was the one who failed you. And I’m so, so sorry for it.” Wonwoo’s eyes were getting teary— he couldn’t hide the gut-wrenching guilt that he felt whenever he thought about it.

You had never seen him this emotional. You were happy that he felt comfortable enough with you to be this vulnerable, but the burden he was carrying made you feel heavy as well. You wanted to comfort him, console him, assure him that it was alright. You didn’t like holding grudges— for as long as you can remember, you were always hopeful that people could change. Wonwoo was finally showing the sincerity you had always longed for. He blinked back the tears before continuing, taking a deep breath and steadying himself by looking at you.

“I always wanted to talk to you. It just… felt uncomfortable. I’ve never been good at talking to people casually. They don’t train you for that in classes, believe it or not. I’m good at public speaking and strategic planning for the nation; but if you had ever put me next to girls in school, I’d end up a flustered and oblivious mess. I was always like that. Mingyu was better with the ladies and I was better with… textbooks or animals. They can’t be hurt as easily.

“I can only assume that by ignoring you, I was trying to avoid hurting you with my words. I never considered that by doing that, I would have caused you much more pain than a few awkward conversations. You always left my heart racing when you would smile at me from across the room those first few weeks. I kept a straight face because I knew the image would stay in my brain for the rest of the day and keep me from completing important tasks. Ignoring you and the effect you had on me was a bad way to cope with my feelings. I didn’t think I had time for love.”

The explanation took you by surprise. You had always presumed that Wonwoo had never cared for you, and that was why he never put any effort into talking to you. Knowing that you had been in his heart all that time surged the hope that you had for him that had been hidden away in your heart.

“I planned to talk to you sooner, but on the night I tried to find you, you weren’t in your room. I assumed you had gotten kidnapped, so I tracked your scent with a shirshu brought from the Earth Kingdom. You can imagine my distress when I realized that the trial led right to Orin’s homestead. I was so panicked. I could only imagine what a man like him would want to do with the Fire Lord’s wife.” He breathed, the panic he felt from the time rushing back slightly.

You frowned, your heart aching to hear how much he cared for you. You grabbed his left hand gently, slowly giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture made a tear slip down his cheek, but he wiped it away as quickly as possible.

“I… saw someone jump out of the window and decided to follow them given that Orin was already almost dead on the floor. I thought they would know where you were if they had searched the house in order to assassinate him. I-I didn’t know it was you, and I was so panicked from it all that I used my firebending recklessly. I…” His lip trembled and more tears spilled past his waterline.

You were close to crying as well. Seeing Wonwoo so heartbroken by his own actions twisted your insides together. You pulled on his hand, making him lean forward until you could wrap your arms around him. You had never wanted to hug someone as badly. The way he crumbled into your embrace immediately finally broke you, and you allowed the tears to fall. You didn’t want him to talk until he had calmed down, so you rubbed his back, tracing the line of vertebrae one by one. You pulled away when you felt his breathing stabilise, but still kept him close to you.

“And then? After you hit me?” You questioned softly but curiously.

Wonwoo sucked in a breath, “I never meant to hit you— even before I knew it was you. I never knew you were The Scarlet Shadow. I wish I could have taken the time to be proud of you, instead of harming you.” He frowned again, but you just shook your head.

“It was all a mistake. I will heal soon. I’m pretty strong, you know?” You smiled, brushing away a tear stain from his cheek.

“I brought you here immediately and the palace healers took care of you. I asked them to teach me how to change your bandages and apply the medicine. I’ve been taking care of you for the last week.” He smiled, and you were glad he wasn’t teary anymore. You didn’t like seeing him cry.

“Wait… What’s today then? How long was I out for?” You asked.

Wonwoo looked up, counting in his head, “It’s the 14th of the month… You were out for 10 days.”

“The 14th? Isn’t that…?” You looked up, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. Realisation dawned in them as well. It was your wedding anniversary.

“1 whole year and this has been our longest conversation yet.” You giggled. The hurt feelings you felt from that reality were gone now— replaced with only amusement as you knew the cause had been nothing but the shyness of your husband.

“I am never going to ignore you like that again. I promise.” He said seriously, and you smiled.

“I know you won’t.” You kissed his cheek before you were even realising what you were doing. Both your eyes widened simultaneously before blush spread to your cheeks. “Sorry, you just looked– I just-” You didn’t register that as you were stuttering, Wonwoo’s eyes were focused entirely on your lips. He cut you off before you could finish, catching you by surprise.

You had never been kissed before, and neither had Wonwoo. It felt new and unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting. Wonwoo’s lips were warm and soft, and feeling them move against yours instantly brought butterflies to your stomach. It took a second for you to properly kiss him back, and even more time for you both to find a steady rhythm.

It was like a dance almost; You had to tilt your head the exact right amount in order to not bump your nose against his, all while still moving your lips against his at the perfect pace. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands. They felt awkward just sitting in your lap— especially when Wonwoo’s right hand was gently holding your jaw. They found their place on his shoulders before too long, and that seemed to feel right to you. It grounded you while also allowing you to pull him closer to you, which was something you desperately wanted.

When you tried to deepen the kiss, though, Wonwoo pulled away. You blinked open your eyes, breathing heavily.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked through short inhales. Wonwoo’s face reddened.

“I- you were pulling me closer, and I wanted to hold you, but then I’d have to hold your back, a-and I can’t risk hurting you…” He whispered.

“Wonwoo… You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” You whined softly, your eyes staring into his.

“I always wished you would.” He breathed.

“You don’t have to wish for it anymore.” You promised him. “Can I… kiss you again?” You asked in a small whisper. Wonwoo nodded, immediately resuming where it had left off— lips connected; gentle, loving, and long overdue.

“I told you not to get up!” Wonwoo yelped, surprised by your arms encircling his waist before he could finish tying his robes.

“I said I’m fine. It’s been over 2 weeks. It barely even hurts anymore.” You shushed him, hugging his middle and resting your cheek against his soft silk robes.

“Barely?” He repeated, “I’m not letting you do anything until you can say it never hurts anymore.”

“You’re so stubborn.” You complained. Your hands soon found the tie on Wonwoo’s garment, and you smiled subconsciously as you realized he hadn’t been able to finish getting dressed. You held the sash in one hand, the other briefly running over his abdomen before he caught it.

“You can’t keep your hands to yourself, I see.” He muttered, amused at your actions. You shifted around until you were facing him, and started to cross his robes, tying them together (not without sneaking one last peak at his chest and abs).

“I was just trying to help you get dressed; obviously.” You rolled your eyes before stepping up onto your tippy toes to give him a small kiss.

“Are you really feeling okay, though?” He asked softly. You nodded. You really did feel fine this morning, and especially excited. Wonwoo had promised to take you for a ride on Huoyan; finally fulfilling his promise to you over a year ago.

“You know I always tell you when I’m in pain.” You soothed him.

“I know, but I can’t help but be worried about you. It’s my fault, after all. I want to take responsibility to make sure you heal properly.” He sighed. He always made sure to look at the burn every day to see how it was progressing. It had gotten significantly better, but he always had lingering worries that he had permanently damaged your body.

“It was an accident, Wonwoo.” You brushed your fingers over his cheek, tracing the line of his cheekbone with care. Falling in love with his good looks from afar over the year he ignored you was almost inevitable, but in the past two weeks when he was by your side at all times, talking and laughing and loving you, it was impossible to not fall 100 times harder for him.

“Accident or not, I hurt you. It was a mistake I am never going to let myself repeat. A husband should never hurt his wife.” He frowned. You felt like you had this conversation with him almost every day. He wouldn’t let go of the thought that everything that had gone wrong was because of him. While it was true that he had made many mistakes, you didn’t want him to carry that guilt forever.

“I already forgave you enough times, my love. There is no need to feel guilty anymore.” You shushed him for now by hugging him, knowing that you would probably have the exact same conversation the next day. Wonwoo hugged you back— it had been 4 days since you had convinced Wonwoo that he could touch your back without fear, and 7 days since you had started trying to convince him. You had both enjoyed hugs where you didn’t need to be careful of any pain, and you enjoyed another one. Wonwoo squeezed you tightly before letting you go.

“I’ll help you get ready, and then we can go.” He smiled.

“I can get ready by myself.” Your argument was bound to fail. Wonwoo followed you like a lost puppy wherever you went, and when you started walking towards the dresser for a fresh set of robes, he quickly followed.

“You ready?” Wonwoo’s bright smile was something that you would never get tired of. The gentle creases in his face to the way his eyes brightly reflected his smile, shining brightly; it was all so perfect. You would truly never get tired of him.

“I’ve waited 382 days for this. I’ve never been more ready!” You were eager and still a little impatient as Wonwoo had made you wait until after breakfast. The much looked-forward-to dragon ride had been one of the only things on your mind for the last week. And the second you saw Huoyan, you knew it would be the most magical experience you’d ever have.

Wonwoo helped you onto her back after you said hello and gave her some nose scratches which Wonwoo told you she loved. Wonwoo got on in front of you and told you to hold on tightly. Lifting up into the air caused some shrieks from you and giggles from Wonwoo. You calmed down quickly as Huoyan flew steadily. The view of the entire Fire Nation capital from up so high was unbelievable. You had never seen anything as gorgeous.

“Everyone looks so tiny from up here.” You breathed, watching the ground below as you flew gently around it. People looked to be the size of ants, and large houses were merely the size of a gold piece coin. Huoyan soared upwards above the clouds once you had had your fill of looking at the ground.

The sky was even more beautiful than the ground. It was a clear sunny day, and the clouds in the sky were varied. From large fluffy ones to misty thin ones, you tried to spot as many as you could with Wonwoo. You got tired near the end of the flight. You wished you could stay up in the sky with Wonwoo all day, but you still hadn’t recovered all your energy. You rested your head on Wonwoo’s back, closing your eyes and letting a happy smile envelop your face.

“Tired, my love?” Wonwoo asked softly. You hummed. You had been up in the air for hours now and easily lost track of time.

“Would it be silly if… I wanted to kiss you up here?” You asked quietly.

Wonwoo smiled at your slightly sleepy request, “No, it’s not silly. Unless I’m silly for wanting it as well.” He giggled softly and turned, making his face visible to you. “Huoyan, sorry.” He said quickly before capturing your lips with his.

It didn’t last long, as Huoyan started to complain about it all happening on her back. Wonwoo didn’t press for a long kiss and just let Huoyan fly back down to the palace. The rest of the day was spent less excitingly, but still enjoyable. Any moment with Wonwoo was enjoyable. You visited the turtle duck pond again and fed them, and then walked around the grounds of the royal palace together.

Once you were all ready for bed, tucked under the covers with your head on Wonwoo’s chest, he spoke again, “I thought of a question. I probably should have asked you earlier, but it only just came to me now.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you become The Scarlet Shadow?”

You hummed, “I guess it was just… a way to spend my time. I didn’t have anything to do, and I had always wanted to try fighting when I was little, so I just decided to go for it. It was very… fulfilling. I liked being able to help people.” You smiled, “And, hey, I guess I was pretty good at it. I even killed Orin.”

Wonwoo laughed, “I think I should be worried about what will happen to me if I ever anger you.” He rubbed your arm, sleepily watching you listen to his heartbeat.

“Don’t worry… I love you too much to do anything to you.” You mumbled.

“Me too.” He smiled, thinking back to the events of it all. It had been a long journey for him to end up here; with you in his arms. Among the ups and downs, one thing had stayed steady: your hope that he would change. You still gave him a second chance, even after all the pain and mistakes and broken promises. You still loved him, even when he couldn’t bear to love himself anymore. And as he made sure to heal every wound he had ever given you, you also healed his shattered soul, putting it back together piece by piece.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @edensgardenn,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cienlvrs,, @amara-mars

#hannie ⌦ .｡.:*♡

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chuuya-centric · 4 years ago

Text

returning the favor

characters: chuuya nakahara, ranpo edogawa (generalized for both in the beginning, individualized under the cut)

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns used for reader, insecure ?? s/o, this is literally me just projecting my insecurities, smut obviously 🤨 its not like super explicit, n maybe a lil more comforting than anything <33

↬okay so like chuuya and ranpo w an s/o thats like always willing to go down on them n make them feel good yk 😩😫

↬but they end up feelin a lil guilty bc its all give n no receive on ur end 🤒 so they decide to ask u ab it next time u go down on them n whenever u were done they were like "hey do u want me return the favor ?"

↬and ur just like "what 😐" but that wasnt rlly the reaction they were expecting at all so they're like "????? wdym what i wanna make u feel good too ???????" so you're like "oh idrc lmao" or sth like that n yk by this point i'm sure theyve figured out ur (more than) a lil insecure

↬so they jus kinda drop it and dont bring it up until the next time u go to give them a bj n they stop u before u can do anything nd theyre like begging to go down on u bc they wanna make it all up to u n make u feel as good as u make them feel so u finally hesitantly agree and hnnbghhh

chuuya nakahara

↬chuuya wouldve realized u were insecure whenever he started thinkin ab all the times you'd given him head n he'd never returned the favor and he immiediately felt so shitty ab it :((

↬i dont think he'd like outright verbally address it ?? bc hes rlly bad with words, so like next time yall were making out n it started getting heated and u moved between his legs he stopped u almost instantly n flipped the positions or whatever so now he was in between ur legs and he's lookin up at u, and taking in ur reaction, n so when u dont say anything he'd whisper "is this okay?" n u just dumbly nod bc ur so taken aback by it n dont wanna hurt his feelings

↬but that doesn't slide at all w him, he needs you to verbalize ur consent. otherwise everything stops there

↬immiediately stops if u start crying and asks u what's wrong and if ur ok and u can hear the genuine concern in his voice n he would def think he did sth wrong <//3

↬and so you'd jus start crying harder but still try n be like "no im fine wdym" and yk hes obviously not buying it and would probably apologize tbh n he'd be like "i can stop if ur not enjoying it" :((( n he's looking just as nervous as u are cause he just rlly doesnt wanna fuck up or like make u feel pressured into anything

↬n u would have to explain to him it has nothing to do w him, ur just rlly insecure n by then the gears are def turning in his brain or whateva 💯 n he would like kiss ur forehead then the tip of ur nose then both of ur cheeks before finally giving u a rlly gentle kiss on ur lips and moving back between ur legs

↬but this time he like builds up to it yk hes covering ur thighs in kisses n telling u how pretty u r and ab how good u taste and just doing his best to be reassuring n eats u out rlly slowly

↬his aftercare would be so fucking sweet as well :(( he'd like clean u up w a warm rag before pulling u on top of him n coverin ur face in kisses n asking why someone as perfect as u was so insecure to begin with

—

ranpo edogawa

↬i think ranpo def realized u were rlly insecure early on but he never said anything ab it 🤨🤨

↬when he finally did he was absolutely insistent on going down on u then n there and u were like "yeah, but what if—" but he immiediately shut u the fuck up w a rlly sweet kiss before pulling away n lookin u dead in the eye and going "i just wanna make u feel as good as u make me feel"

↬and so u take a deep breath to steady urself before nodding in silent approval bc his words made u melt n he starts going to town on ur kitty bc hes rlly excited n eager to please 🙏

↬thats probably when he realizes that he should like slow down his pace as well so he presses a rlly gentle kiss against ur thigh n hes jus like "just tell me when to stop ok sweets ?" n u nod at him thru the tears before like he goes back to eating u out n praising u whenever he can and like coverin ur thighs in kisses n a handful of lovebites as well 🤒🙏

↬i think if u were to start crying he'd be genuinely confused (bc ur like actually perfect in his eyes and he legitimately doesnt understand why ur so insecure) n so he looks up at u like "r u okay ?? did i do sth wrong ???? whats wrong ??????" and u start crying even harder n he like immiediately starts showering u in praise and reassuring u to try to calm u down (the only way he rlly knows how)

↬afterwards he'd dry ur tears and cuddle u n tell u how good u tasted (much to ur embarrassment) and that u rlly shouldn't have anything to be insecure ab bc he'd fr spend hours between ur legs if u let him n that ur sweeter than any candy hes ever had </3

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #chuuya x reader #ranpo edogawa #edogawa ranpo #ranpo x reader #nero.after.dark #city.journalist #cotton.candy.clouds #afab.reader #gn.afab.reader

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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ghost-of-a-vulture · 3 years ago

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Some anti: so anyway ur a terrible human being and i really hope you fuckin die because you watch dream omg ur a racist ableist transphobic peice of shit you killed my mother i hope you fuckin die <3 anyway im better than you because i have good interests and watch anime and hang out with my friends you fuckin loser<3 go burn <3

Me, an autistic trans pansexual 13 year old with legit no fuckin friends who watches Wilbur, tommy, Ranboo and Slimecicle and Hermitcraft just trying to talk about my interests: i watch like 3 dsmp members and its not Dream or Schlatt, and every time someone says the dsmp is problematic they never back up those claims, and the one Google doc ive seen just has "they played among us with pewdiepie a few times" and..... posts with links to George fylode [im sorry i cannot spell].... and all the other sources have [they have since apologized] under them so... like can i have some links? Like genuinely if they did something horrible and wrong that i just. Haven't realized im willing to help you point that out but maybe don't trash ppl because of the fucking youtubers they watch-

Anti: fuck you fuck you wdym you want an explanation with actual resources you're so blind omg go die you fuckin bastard

Me: bro you can just. Block dsmp tags and you don't have to see them. Or just Block me.

Anti: noo noo i can't Block the tags then who will i make fun of??? The entire internet has to stop posting about things that i think are problematic based on something i saw from a friend with no sources and ive never seen the content in my life!!!!!

Me:

.....

If you're gonna throw a fit, how about i block you and we go our separate ways. I don't have any concrete evidence to support your claims and im genuinely just trying to enjoy my interests, my life is already stressful and this really helps okay? Im sorry you're upset.

Anti: fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

and the damsel in distress - veninder chap. 2

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; eventual best friends to lovers

word count: 7.2k

warnings: language, insecurities, past trauma mention, somewhat suicidal thoughts (very briefly, one sentence)

a/n: after ages of exams where i focused on smaller writings i finally am updating... this chapter is a ride but it is the ride i decided to take

yo var det mig / der’ dummet sig? - was it me / that messed up?

when you woke up and unlocked your phone you immediately wished you hadn’t woken up, ever. you had more than a hundred messages from various chats, and while you wished you could just ignore them forever you knew that you’d have to deal with it tomorrow latest, and you’d rather do it without an audience. so you had no choice to reply, opening the private messages first and telling all your friends that you’d reply in the group chat, before you opened that one.

[y/n]: sry for that. forgot my wallet, had no way to get home in time

[y/n]: nothing happened tho

the reply came almost immediately, as if they’d just waited for you to come online.

[saranghoe]: u literally didnt even try 2 call dibs n now ur staying the night?? seems suspicious

[model contract when???]: yeah literally!

[y/n]: as i said, better than sleeping on the street

[model contract when???]: just dont go near them again. ever

[y/n]: fine

[y/n]: deal

you hated the idea, but you knew that if you didn’t agree your life would be a living hell. and that was definitely not something you wanted, knowing how they’d made life hell for other people and knowing that there was no way anyone could protect you from that. so, the next thing you did was click on ‘hyung hate club’, not even bothering to read the messages before leaving the group. you didn’t like this, but it was better this way. as much as you liked the boys, you liked being able to go to uni in peace more, and you knew that would be impossible if you so much as breathed in their direction from now on. you sighed, putting your phone down and laying back onto your bed again, wanting some peace for yourself, but you weren’t granted that. less than a minute after you’d laid down your phone buzzed, once, twice, thrice. knowing that you wouldn’t be able to relax until you knew what was up you sat back up, checking your phone to see messages from an unknown number. curious, you clicked on the notification.

[unknown]: y/n???

[unknown]: im mingi

[unknown]: whats wrong??

you weren’t sure whether to be happy he messaged or scream into your pillow. in some way it was nice he cared, but that also meant it would be harder to avoid the boys. and that meant that, no matter how hard you tried, your friends would have a reason to be upset.

[y/n]: why?

[unknown]: you left the gc?

[unknown]: what happened

[y/n]: nothing dw, im all good

he saw the message but didn’t reply right away, which made you think that maybe he’d accept your reply. but then you saw him typing again, and a message you didn’t expect at all appeared on your screen.

[unknown]: did i mess up

[y/n]: wdym

you genuinely had no idea what he meant, or rather, how he could’ve got the idea that he’d messed up in any way. he’d been nothing but kind to you, there was not a single thing he could possibly have messed up on. but when a new message popped up you knew he was genuinely worrying about it, and you felt bad for not being able to tell him the real reason why you left the group chat, why you had to avoid them.

[unknown]: like did i do something wrong

[y/n]: not at all

[y/n]: its not abt you dw

you hoped he’d leave it be with that, but of course not. he wanted to know what was wrong, he wanted to know why you suddenly didn’t seem to want to talk to him, or any of them for that matter, anymore.

[unknown]: then what is it

and while you were thinking of a good excuse, mingi seemed to have caught on to what exactly the problem was, as was made apparent by his next message.

[unknown]: its your friends isnt it

there was no way you could reply to that decently, so you didn’t, staring at the screen in frustration with your friends and him and mainly yourself. you wanted to say something, you really did, but you had no idea what. tell him you were sorry? tell him to leave you alone? tell him that sometimes life just sucked and you had to deal with it? none of that would’ve been a good reply, and in all honesty you also didn’t want to have to deal with the emotional turmoil it would inevitably bring.

you didn’t notice that you’d spaced out and your phone had locked itself until it buzzed in your hand again, another message from the unknown number you now knew to be mingi. it just read ‘got it’ and you felt awful, scared that you’d hurt or upset one of the only people in forever that had shown genuine care for you. but of course you’d had to mess it up.

the next day came and you still felt bad, somewhat fearful as well. your friend group’s chat had returned to the usual topics, but you still weren’t sure how they’d react to you when they saw you again. you were hellbent on acting as usual, hoping that if you acted like nothing happened they would as well, and it was somewhat successful, getting weird stares every now and then, but no more comments than usual. you wouldn’t let yourself relax just yet, but this was a good sign, at least.

but then came lunch. you tried to act casual, not wanting to let on to the fact that you were horrified that one of the boys would shout out for you at any moment. your eyes darted around aimlessly, mainly looking for a certain giant sporting bright red hair, simply because he was easiest to spot out of the group you’d spent saturday night with. when you still hadn’t spotted him when you sat down to eat with your friends your shoulders relaxed, but it had been a mistake to think that they’d forgotten about you.

you hadn’t noticed that yunho was on his way towards you until he was standing right there, having moved surprisingly inconspicuously for someone his height. but there he was, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t judge. you tried to avoid his eyes, feeling so incredibly guilty for ignoring him when he and his friends had been your saviour when you needed one, but you couldn’t help it. even now you could feel your friends’ angry stares on you, when you hadn’t even acknowledged the boy’s presence.

“y/n”, yunho suddenly spoke up. you couldn’t help but look up at him at that, knowing it was a mistake, but your head moved by itself. and he noticed, a small smile appearing on his face now. he nodded his head as a sign that he wanted to talk to you with a little more privacy, and you knew that if you didn’t go with him he’d try to sort whatever he wanted to sort here, in front of your friends, which would be way worse than leaving with him for maybe two minutes and returning, convincing them that you told him never to come up to you again. so you got up, but before you could actually go to a more private area he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. you hit his back in a desperate attempt to let you down, but deep down you knew that your punches wouldn’t affect him in any way. so you gave up, hanging like a sack of potatoes, feeling everyone’s curious stares on you.

he first let you down at their table, hongjoong scolding him that a less dramatic approach would’ve done the job as well. wooyoung and yeosang were laughing while the others looked at you curiously, and you were still deciding whether or not to kill yunho right there.

that decision was made for you when mingi spoke up.

“you told me you’d see me at lunch.” you couldn’t quite decipher his tone, whether he was angry or disappointed or hurt, but you knew it wasn’t a positive emotion you heard in his voice. you hated that you were the reason for his upset, but you also hated that your decision about how to deal with the dilemma you were in had been made for you, by people that knew nothing about your situation. you weren’t them, you didn’t have a support system, you didn’t have the option to choose who you were friends with, you didn’t have any of the things that were a given for everyone else. you had to take what you got and make do with it, and they’d just made that significantly harder for you.

“i told you i couldn’t”, you replied, your own voice a mixture of sadness and anger. you wanted to be able to, really, but it wasn’t something you could change. and the fact that he’d seen how your friends had reacted to you doing something they didn’t like and still didn’t stop this, maybe even actively encouraged this, made you angry, even though maybe it shouldn’t. he hadn’t had any ill intentions, but that didn’t really matter to you when you knew he wouldn’t be affected at all by whatever happened as a reaction to this. that he - they - had started a battle you’d have to fight.

no one said anything to that and you thought the conversation was over, that they’d realised that you wouldn’t be able to join their friend group or talk to them at all unless necessary, so you turned around, managing to take a single step before someone grabbed your wrist. you turned around again in surprise and saw that it was seonghwa, whom you’d assumed to be kind and soft-spoken, definitely not the kind to do this. but here you were, being kept from leaving by his hand around your wrist. it was mingi who spoke, though.

“they’re not being nice to you. you deserve better.” and you knew, you knew all that, you knew everything he could tell you to convince you that they weren’t the right friends for you, but that didn’t change anything. and you’d had enough hurt, enough mistreatment in your life to want to avoid it at all costs now. if that meant giving up a bit of your happiness but getting to keep your peace of mind that was a price you were more than willing to pay. but the boy looking at you with softness in his eyes didn’t seem to be willing to have you pay that price.

“sit down.” seonghwa had let go of your arm now, moving a little so that you’d fit next to him. it wasn’t an order, more of a suggestion, but you were too tired, too exhausted to potentially risk a discussion you might not be able to win, so you just complied, resting your head in your palms. and because of that the boys at first didn’t even notice that you didn’t have your food, or any of your things, since it didn’t seem like you wanted to eat anyway.

it was san that noticed, already having finished inhaling his meal when you hadn’t even started yours. the surprise at that was what made him realise that there was no meal for you to finish.

“yunho!”, he suddenly yelled out, making everyone’s heads snap up, even yours. “you forgot y/n’s things when you kidnapped her!” at that realisation, panic made its way onto your face. you had no idea what state your things would be in by the time you’d reach them. your phone, your wallet, all your notes were in your bag, and you’d just left it with your friends that without a doubt were plotting how to ruin your life by now. you jolted up and towards the table they’d been sitting at, but when you saw they’d already left your panic only increased. your bag was still there, carelessly kicked underneath the table when you’d been sitting with the others, but you had no idea what the insides would look like. you probably looked like a maniac all but ripping it open, fumbling with the zipper with shaking hands and ransacking your bag to make sure you still had everything you needed, checking your wallet and phone to see just how fucked you were. everything was still in order, though; it seemed like they’d forgotten about your bag, in part thanks to you having kicked it out of sight thoughtlessly. you almost cried at the relief, and mingi, who’d followed you after your sudden exit to make sure you were okay, wasn’t really sure what to do. he kneeled down next to where you were still crouching on the floor, staring at your bag and its content as if it were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and just looked at you, waiting for you to realise he was there as well.

when after a while (was it seconds? minutes? it felt too long for mingi) you still seemed to not have noticed his presence he carefully tapped your leg, making sure his hand was visible before he actually touched you. you seemed so spaced out that he was pretty certain any sudden touch or noise would scare you to no end. but even though he was so careful not to be too sudden your head still shot up with a force that made him fear you’d break your neck; you’d half expected one of your friends to be the one touching you, so your anxious reaction was at least in part caused by that. but when you saw that it was only him you relaxed a little, though your heartbeat still would not return to normal.

“you okay?”, he asked you once it seemed like you wouldn’t drop dead from shock or kill him if he said anything, worry apparent in his voice, and you could understand him, really - this wasn’t a regular reaction to forgetting your bag with your friends. but you didn’t have regular friends either, so it evened out.

“i guess.” you grabbed your bag and got up, wanting nothing more than to get out of that awkward situation, and the tall boy followed suit.

“wanna join us for the rest of lunch?” he expected you to say no. you knew that you should say no. and a look at where you’d sat at the table confirmed that you didn’t even have anything to eat anymore - they’d probably thrown it away as soon as you left. so there was no reason to go, there was no reason to make yourself even more of a target. but maybe that was why you ended up saying yes. you’d already become a target, so now you might as well spend time with them, you didn’t really have anything to lose anymore. and the smile he gave you when you agreed to join them made you think that it’d maybe be worth it, even.

the others looked at you in surprise when you returned to their table, mingi having a triumphant look on his face. they didn’t say anything, though, scared of putting you off and causing another somewhat-freak out like the one earlier. of course, to them it didn’t make sense, they had no idea just what your friends could do. they’d never been their victim, and they’d never been around to see what their victims had to deal with. but you knew. and the thought of it almost sent you into a panic attack, so you let yourself fall onto the bench (a loud ‘thud’ could be heard, so you really hadn’t been gentle with yourself) and put your head on the table, ignoring how greasy it probably was, your focus being on stopping your breath from speeding up before it was too late. you couldn’t see the looks they gave each other, but you could imagine them. you were a mess, a scared, traumatised mess, and that less than 48 hours after first having met them. you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they told you to go sit somewhere else, or got up and left themselves. but they were still there when you lifted your head again, looking at you worriedly, but without judgment.

mingi was the first to speak, having put the pieces together by now.

“they’re that bad?” you knew whom he meant. he’d seen the message, he’d been the one to figure out they didn’t want you to talk to them, he’d seen the way you’d rummaged your bag, so it wasn’t hard for him to figure out what, or rather whom, you were scared of. yet he couldn’t imagine why you were that scared of people supposed to be your friends.

“worse.” you tried to mask your fear with a bitter tone, but it didn’t exactly work. the boys didn’t exactly know how to react to that, trying desperately to come up with a way to lighten the mood.

“you have eight bodyguards now.” you weren’t the only one surprised when it was jongho that spoke up, but the others were quick to agree, telling you that the girls had to get past them first. ‘mainly jongho, to be fair’, as wooyoung elaborated. and while you still weren’t feeling good about it, you were feeling better now, the fearful expression replaced by a smile. san, not wanting to waste that chance, asked you if he could re-add you to ‘hyung hate club’, and you couldn’t resist the puppy eyes he gave you, so you agreed. as soon as he did so mingi got his phone out, resending the message he’d sent when he’d brought you home. ‘pyjama party this weekend n y/ns still coming’. your reply was an emoji rolling its eyes, but the smile hadn’t left your face. then you saved his number, asking the others to send a message with their name so you could know who was who.

“they’ll never shut up”, hongjoong informed you casually as he sent his name, and while you knew he was telling you, indirectly, that from this moment on you would never be able to have a moment of peace and quiet and no notifications you were happy about this fact, because it meant that at least you wouldn’t be lonely.

“i have my ways.” you grinned at him as you said that, then you went to save all the numbers in your phone. doing so brought your attention to the time, and you noticed that it was time to leave for class, your happy expression immediately disappearing as you realised that they wouldn’t be around to protect you during class. And class was the place you couldn’t escape from; you needed the credits, and part of you also didn’t want to have to give up on something that always brought you joy just because you had to fear you wouldn’t be left alone.

“i need to go.” your expression didn’t go unnoticed, and seonghwa and yeosang, who had this period off, told you they’d be right there if something happened, you just had to send a message. they also insisted on bringing you to your class, and while you did feel a little like a child that needs their parents to bring them everywhere because they’re scared by themselves you also really appreciated it. so you took off with your two bodyguards, waving at the others as they left for their own classes.

“it’ll be fine”, yeosang said after a couple hundred metres during which neither of you had said anything, and you looked at him with doubt apparent in your eyes.

“it will”, seonghwa stated, a lot more sure about it than you were. “and if not, you know we’ll be right there.” that only did little to reassure you, but you had no choice either way.

you reached your classroom way too fast, and you could feel your breath speed up as soon as you walked towards the door, hesitating. maybe you should just drop out of uni and become a shepherd in a secluded village somewhere in a strange country in europe. maybe that was a better plan. but the choice was made for you as one of your now ex-friends waved towards you, a cheery expression on her face that would have fooled you, had you not seen that same expression on her face countless times before, knowing that it meant nothing but danger. but it was too late to turn around now, so all you could do was pretend you didn’t know what you were about to face.

“hey!” your tone was at least as fake as her expression as you greeted her back. then you went to your seat, and for the first half of class things actually went okay. you were tense, you were stressed, you were scared, but nothing happened. but then the teacher told you that it was time to do group work now, and things went downhill. you were grouped by how you were seating, which included you, one of the girls, and two classmates you barely ever talked to, whose names you didn’t even know, but whom you had nothing against, at least. but they would soon have something against you.

as you were working, one of them had her laptop out to take notes and prepare a presentation, as was the task. and that gave your ex-friend an idea. it was an expensive laptop, and you, as always, had a cup of water on the table, fairly close to the middle so it wouldn’t be able to drop by itself. it wouldn’t have to drop by itself, though. first, the girl next to you dropped her pen and kicked it over to the other two, pretending to have done so in an attempt to retrieve it and be able to pick it up.

“i’m sorry, i dropped my pen! can you maybe pick it up, i can’t reach it.” an apologetic smile was sent their way, as if to say ‘sorry for the hassle’. both girls opposite you ducked at the same time, trying to see where the pen was and who would be able to pick it up more easily. that was what she’d planned, though; as soon as they were no longer able to see you, she spilled your water. over the laptop that was still on the table. and as if that wasn’t enough, she got up, yelling your name loudly, asking you why you’d done that. everyone was looking at you by now, and the girl whose laptop had been sacrificed quickly tried to dry it off with her sleeve, asking for tissues, trying to save it. no use, it seemed like it had broken right away. and everyone thought it was you. that you’d broken the laptop on purpose.

“she was writing her thesis, y/n! i knew you were jealous, but i didn’t think you’d go that far!” you just stared at the scene around you wide-eyed, not even fully realising that this was real. by now even the teacher had come to look at what exactly was going on, and your lack of self defense was a seemingly obvious sign of you actually being the culprit.

“i think you should leave the class now. and you will have to replace the laptop.” all you could do was stare at who used to be your friend, unable to believe that she would do this to you. you hadn’t even actually done anything, and you’d been friends with these girls for almost a year now, yet she’d had no hesitation to ruin not only your reputation but also you financially. she was fully aware that you were barely scraping by. she was fully aware that you would never be able to replace the laptop. she knew all that. and she still did it, just because you’d dared to talk to someone they’d called dibs on. you couldn’t believe it.

you didn’t really remember how you’d left the class, and were surprised to find that you’d remembered to pack all your things back into your bag, that you hadn’t forgotten anything. you’d just left, going who even knew where, dropping on the floor when your legs didn’t want to carry you anymore, and starting to cry. and you stayed there, crying, losing all feeling for how much time had passed. this had been your last class of the day, so you had nowhere to be, and you didn’t want to be anywhere, either. you wanted to vanish. you wanted to die, in all honesty. if it continued like this your only choice was dropping out, basically having wasted the past year and all the work and money you’d put into your studies.

you were so caught up in your crying that you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing with message after message, first paying attention to it when someone called you. it was seonghwa, who’d been there to pick you up after class only to see that you weren’t there. you didn’t feel like picking up, so you pressed the red button through your tears. he tried again, with the same result, and first when your phone started buzzing continuously with new messages you took a look at the group chat. now you found out why they were calling you - they’d tried to get you after class, but you weren’t there, and now you’d neither read their messages nor picked up their calls, so they all were quite worried at this point. you felt sorry about that, so you decided to send a message saying ‘sorry for worrying you’, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say that you were fine. it seemed like any sign of you being alive was already a success, though, lots of relieved messages flooding the chat. you hoped that maybe they wouldn’t ask what happened, but of course they did.

[hongjoong]: what happened?

[y/n]: i dont want to talk abt it

the chat was quiet after that, no one really knowing what to say. but, again, mingi sent you a private message.

[mingi]: where are you???

you didn’t want to explain anything and you didn’t want to pretend you were fine, so you just sent him your location, his ‘ill be right there’ coming just a few seconds after you’d sent your message. you were somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t have to be alone right now, but you also dreaded having to explain what happened. for now, though, you should probably focus on looking a little more like a person and a little less like you’d just spent the past hour crying. even though you had it didn’t have to be obvious like that, so you tried to clean off the streaks of ruined makeup on your cheeks, using your phone as a makeshift mirror. once you were done you tilted your head to see if there was anything you’d missed, but it was okay. it wasn’t good, but it was the best you could do right now. then, you waited.

you’d put in your headphones after roughly two minutes of waiting, way too nervous at every single sound that surrounded you, but that also made you miss mingi shouting your name once he’d arrived, and the sudden appearance of his large frame in your field of vision did surprise you quite some, flinching visibly before you took out your headphones and looked up at him, trying to smile but failing miserably. and he immediately caught on, sitting down next to where you were sitting on the floor and looking at you silently for a moment.

“do you want a hug?” he didn’t know what else to offer, but he wanted to let you know that he was there for you, and you willingly accepted the offer. he wrapped his arms around you then, pulling you a little closer so you could rest your head on his shoulder, and then you continued to sit in silence. it was strangely comforting, having someone there for you even when they had no idea what you were even upset about, offering you their presence and leaving the choice of whether or not you wanted to tell to you. you didn’t want to have to leave this situation, the safety you felt when embraced by mingi, who was much taller than you and who made you feel like, even just by virtue of his height, he could protect you. but you had to, you knew you did, you couldn’t spend all day wherever you were now.

“we should go home.” mingi hummed in response, removing his arms from where they were wrapped around you, and the two of you got up. he looked at you hesitantly - you could tell he wanted to say or ask something, so you cocked your head, encouraging him this way to tell you whatever was on his mind.

“they’re all worried, so i was wondering… i told them i’m going to meet you, but i think they’d feel better if they could see for themselves that you’re in one piece.” you nodded, both as a sign of understanding and to show that it was fine with you to meet them before you went home. he nodded as well, slowly starting to walk and somewhat unsure if you’d actually follow him, but you did.

you walked in silence until you reached the train station, where he bought the ticket for you again. you looked at him, about to protest, but when he told you it was his treat again you just nodded, not having the energy to argue and also glad that you could save the money seeing how very soon you’d need every single won. after that, you were silent again, sitting next to each other with your head on his shoulder, which you’d have been embarrassed and shy about if you weren’t so exhausted. you were exhausted, though, and it took all your energy to not fall asleep on him - but at least you succeeded with that, your eyes still somewhat open when he told you you had to get off at the next stop. you sat up, then, immediately missing the warmth and comfort of him so close to you. the boys made you feel weirdly safe, and you couldn’t tell why it was - maybe it was just the unusual feeling of having friends that cared about you even when you had nothing to offer, but no matter what it was, it was nice.

another thing that was nice was that mingi didn’t make you talk, didn’t even try. he’d talk, but he didn’t mind if you didn’t reply. he’d just resume his story, letting you know that he wasn’t ignoring you but that he didn’t expect anything from you. and with this behaviour you slowly started to feel better, feeling ready to tell what had happened by the point you reached the boys’ place.

“mingi?” it seemed like they’d been waiting for him to come home, shouting his name as soon as he’d closed the door behind you.

“and y/n!”, he replied, entering the living room with you in tow. you were somewhat surprised to find them all already gathered there, but mingi didn’t seem to be. he just plopped down on the couch, patting the space next to him to signal you to sit down as well. so you did, staring at your hands as soon as you’d sat down, unsure how to start. and they were unsure as well, unsure if they should ask you or wait until you started talking by yourself.

“i…”, you started, but then stopped again. this was hard.

“i’m sorry for not taking your calls”, was how you decided on starting. “i just- i couldn’t. everything was so much.” and even though you hadn’t even started actually explaining yet a small sob already escaped from your lips, and you hid your face in shame. you looked up again though when you felt a hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and looked at the boy attached to the hand - mingi. he looked at you with soft, encouraging eyes, and you took a few slow breaths before you started talking again.

“they hate me. in class, one of them spilled water on my classmate’s laptop and broke it, and then she said it was me, that i did it because i was jealous of that classmate’s good grades.” you tried very hard to stay calm while telling, not wanting to break down crying before you even finished explaining why you’d ignored them, why you’d run away from class without telling anyone where you were.

“and everyone believed her because no one saw and she doesn’t have a reason to do it but the way she framed it i do, and now the girl is so angry because she was writing her thesis and i think it’s gone now and also the laptop is broken and i have to replace it and i just… i can’t afford that and i don’t know what to do and- ouch!” mingi’s hand had remained on your knee while you spoke, but the more you elaborated the tighter his grip got, seemingly without him noticing, because when he heard you yelp he immediately took away his hand and apologised profoundly for having hurt you.

“i’m just so fucking angry that she’d do that”, he explained. “you literally haven’t done anything!” and he wasn’t the only angry one, either, all the boys visibly fuming.

“but i can’t do anything about it”, you said, sounding defeated, “but i’m so scared that i’ll be kicked out of the course because i need it for my degree and if i get kicked out due to gross misbehaviour, even when it wasn’t actually me, i’ll lose my scholarship and then i won’t be able to continue studying and i won’t have a degree either and no one will hire me and i’ll end up homeless and in debt and… and…” you were unable to continue, your sobs having completely taken over at this point. you felt pathetic for breaking down like this, but your entire future was on the line just because you’d chosen to pick your friends yourself rather than waiting for approval. it was unfair, and it was horrible, and it reinforced the belief in you that if you didn’t do what others told you to do, the consequences would be horrible.

mingi wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest - it seemed like out of the eight boys he was the one who’d taken on the role of your protector now, always taking care of you like this, ever since you first met. the others were there as well, of course, but they were more of a silent support as mingi actually pulled you in, and it was okay that way. it worked that way, his deep voice and careful touch being able to calm you down enough that you were able to breathe somewhat regularly again.

“i want to go home now”, you said once the worst was over. you were still sniffling, but you didn’t care. you wanted to go back to your bed, you wanted to hug the teddy bear that you’d owned since you were born, you wanted the comfort of your own home. being here with them was nice, and it had helped you calm down, but your own home, your own bed, was still something different. and it seemed like they could understand that wish to be in a familiar environment, because they just nodded.

“i’ll bring you.” the way he’d said it it didn’t sound like you had a choice, but it was okay. the tall boy had been there for you all afternoon, and he (and the others too, really) would probably feel better if he knew you were home safe and sound. you hummed in response which he correctly interpreted as your okay, because he got up with you and followed you to the door where you stopped to say goodbye and thank them for listening. then you left, the red-haired giant following suit silently.

the train station wasn’t far away, as you knew by now, and the two of you walked next to each other in silence. once there, he paid for your ticket again without a second thought, and while you did feel guilty about it you also were glad he did so. your head rested on his shoulder again during the train ride, something you didn’t even think about anymore; being close to him felt natural, maybe due to the fact that there’d been a lot of good reasons to be close to him in the roughly three days you’d known each other, maybe because he didn’t seem to register it as something noteworthy either.

you didn’t talk during the trip, the first time either of you said anything being when you told him, once you’d gotten off the train, that you were glad he’d brought you, and tried to say goodbye to him unsuccessfully because he told you he’d walk you home unless you’d report him for stalking if he did so. you shook your head, smiling slightly, and started walking. it was once more him who kept the (so far nonexistent) conversation alive, commenting on anything with a child-like wonder in his voice. it sounded like he’d never seen a tree before, or a street, or a house - everything seemed to surprise and somewhat excite him, and in all honesty you thought it was sweet. he managed to distract until you reached your apartment this way, but he noticed the way you tensed up as you unlocked the door. a day ago he’d have thought your fear was an overreaction, and maybe its intensity was, but after what had happened today he was fairly certain it was justified.

“do you want me to go in first?”, he asked as you wouldn’t even fully open the door, obviously scared of what would expect you. you nodded and moved to the side, giving him the option to slip inside. and a couple seconds later he was in front of you again, opening the door widely and telling you that everything was okay. first then did you relax even slightly, entering with careful steps as if you were expecting to jump out of the shadows and murder you. mingi was right, your apartment was fine, but you weren’t. you hated this, hated that you didn’t even feel safe in your own home, and that there was nothing you could do about that.

mingi soon caught on to the fact that even though everything was fine you didn’t seem relaxed at all, looking around like a rabbit expecting the fox to jump out any moment and devour it. and it was your scared expression that made the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself.

“do you want me to stay the night?” you looked at him surprised, both at his words and at the fact that he was still there - you’d forgotten about him in your worry.

“you don’t have to.” you didn’t want to be even more of a bother. you didn’t want him to get annoyed at your scaredy cat-behaviour.

“but do you want me to?”

“you don’t have anything here.” really, you were just trying to come up with excuses for not directly answering his question, because the answer would have been a ‘yes’. yes, you did want him to stay the night, but you didn’t want him to do so because he felt like he had to.

“that’s fine. it’s just a night, and i only have late classes tomorrow. do you want me to?”

you couldn’t stand to look at him as you nodded, feeling weak and vulnerable and like a burden, but he just said ‘okay’, then got out his phone and started typing.

“i’m just letting them know”, he explained when he saw your questioning expression, and you nodded again. you felt slow, tired, and you just wanted to sleep. and yet once more he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“you should go to bed”, he told you softly, “i’ll be right here.”

“you need sleep too!” it was first then you realised that you couldn’t offer him the luxury of choosing his bed for the night, that you couldn’t even offer him the luxury of having anything bigger than a single-person bed. but he didn’t seem to care, nodding.

“just get ready. i’ll wait.” and because you were way too tired to argue about anything at all, you just grabbed your pyjamas from your bed and left for the bathroom to get changed. you got into your pyjamas and wiped the worst stains off your face with a wet washcloth, but didn’t have the energy for anything else. this would have to do for today.

mingi was waiting for you on the floor when you got back, jacket, shirt and shoes huddled together next to him. maybe usually you’d have been a little flushed at him being shirtless, but in this moment all that mattered was getting into bed and sleeping. so you crawled underneath your blanket, moving as close to the wall as possible so he’d be able to still comfortably fit in next to you. he joined, pulling the blanket to cover both of you, and as soon as he’d done so you told him goodnight, him replying with a ‘goodnight’ of his own. he was fairly certain you’d fall asleep right away by how exhausted you seemed, but he found himself surprised when after roughly half an hour you were still tossing and turning.

“you okay?” he didn’t know if this was normal for you or something to be worried about, but he wanted to be sure you weren’t suffering silently just because you didn’t want to bother him.

“tell me something nice”, was what you replied instead of answering his question.

“what do you want to hear?”

“i don’t care. something happy.”

he thought for a moment before he started telling you about his seventh birthday, trying to remember as many details as possible so he’d have something to tell until you’d fallen asleep. his low, calm voice calmed your anxious heartbeat a little, and you stopped shifting so much. you did, however, scoot closer to him subconsciously, your back soon pressed against his chest as you sought out his comforting presence, his warmth. he wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose, so he didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, softly putting his fingertips onto your waist first to wait for your reaction, to see if you’d shy away from his touch. but you did the opposite, grabbing his hand and pressing it close to your chest as if it was a lifeline keeping you from drowning. he just resumed his story, not commenting on it, and you were glad he didn’t. and cuddled up like that his deep, steady voice managed to lull you to sleep.

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