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forever-rogue · 3 years

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In Name Only - Part 15

A/N: Hello friends, I’m so excited to share another chapter of INO with you! I hope you still love it as much as I do! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: mentions of violence and injury

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

He looked peaceful. Almost angelic. If you didn’t know that he was hurt you’d almost enjoy the view. But you couldn’t. All you could was remind yourself that he was in this position because of you. The guilt was already eating away at you, consuming your every thought, every fiber of your being.

No one had said anything to you about blaming you or attempting to hold you accountable for the actions of your brother and therefore your family. No one gave you dirty looks nor were hushed words exchanged just out of your earshot. No; your family, Dorne, wasn’t anything like that. Here they knew that you had nothing to do with your brother’s decisions nor should be held accountable for them.

But it didn’t work to alleviate your guilt. Oberyn wouldn’t be in this position if it hadn’t been for you. Nothing would have happened to him if he hadn’t married you. That knowledge alone was enough to drag you down and sink you into a river of guilt. How would Oberyn ever forgive you? How would you ever forgive yourself?

Sighing heavily you placed the rag back into the basin that was filled with warm water, wringing it out slowly before gently bringing it back to his face and wiping away the sweat that was beading up on his forehead due to the fever that was still hanging on. You hoped it would break soon….otherwise you weren’t sure what you would do.

The Maester had attended well to him, making sure his wounds were all patched up and that the infection in the wound on his side hadn’t spread beyond the point of return.

Not it was just a wait and see game. It was the worst game you had ever played. All you wanted was for him to wake up so you could atone for what you considered your sins, and to tell him how much you loved him. Even if he cast you off into exile, you wanted just one more chance to tell him how much you loved him. You’d never forgive yourself if you weren’t able to tell him.

“My lady,” Jeron opened the door to your chambers slowly, coming in with a gentle look on his face. Looking up at him, you offered up the best little smile you could muster. You were sure it was probably nothing more than a grimace, but couldn’t be bothered to try harder as you tossed the rag back into the basin and slumped back into the chair you had next to his bed. The other man swooped in and sat down on his own chair that he had placed on the other side of the bed.

“Jeron,” his name fell off your lips in more of a statement than anything else, but you were much too tired to care, “how is everything faring?”

“Fine,” he said as he placed his elbows on his knees, face perched on his clasped hands as he watched you closely. He’d been taking over Oberyn’s normal duties and any that you had, helping Doran to keep everything running smoothly. You hadn’t left your husband’s side for more than a few moments since his chaotic return. Once the initial shock and surprise had calmed down, things had gone back to relatively normal. If you weren’t here at his side and doing everything in your power to help him however you could, you would have thought life was normal. You wished it was.

“You’re thinking much too loudly,” you sighed as you leaned back in your chair, making sure to grab Oberyn’s hand and hold it tightly in yours. You tried to convey whatever love you could through the simple touch, “out with it. I am not in the mood to beat around the bush.”

“You need to leave this room,” he insisted and your eyes narrowly immediately, but before you could say anything else, he held up his hand to keep you from saying anything else, “you haven’t bathed, eaten, seen the daylight, or anyone else for days. It’s not good to remain in solitude here by yourself.”

“I am not…” you couldn’t deny that he was right. You’d barely left the room in the event that he stirred, woke up, anything. You wanted to be there for him. Wiping at your tired eyes you gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, “I know. But I don’t want...what if something happens?”

“He won’t be alone,” he promised gently, “someone will be at his side at all times.”

“I want it to be me,” you pouted, giving Oberyn a quick glance, “he...I need to be here for him.”

“I know,” he promised, “Oberyn knows but you need to take care of yourself as well. It won’t do anyone any good if the lady of the house is not able to function.

“I am fine,” you insisted, although you were starting to question that as well. But you just...you just couldn’t leave him, “it’s fine. Please just...keep attending to his duties and I will care for him.”

“Please-”

“Jeron, I know you mean well. Truly,” you said quietly before hanging your head and letting a long, heavy exhale, “but please. I just...just do this for me.”

“As you wish,” he agreed, a frown on his face that suggested he wanted nothing more than to say something else. But he knew better than to argue with you, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” you whispered softly once he was gone, leaving you alone with Oberyn. You reached down and ran a hand through his tangled curls, “revenge, vengeance...blood. I will have it. Mark my words, my love, I will have it all for you.”

»»————-　♡　————-«

“If I were not afraid to see my husband’s side I would tear him from limb to limb myself, Jeron,” it was another day of isolation as you sat in solitude with Oberyn. There was venom was dripping from your voice with every word. You were practically vibrating in your seat with anger, only remaining calm to make sure you weren’t squeezing Oberyn’s hand too harshly. Jeron sat across from you, on Oberyn’s other side, his brow furrowed deeply in concentration, “I will make him pay for what he has done. I do not care if he is flesh and blood. He is no family to me.”

“I do not think you should act in haste,” he said quietly as your mouth dropped open at the sheer mention that you should wait to retaliate, “you should act cautiously. It does not do well to-”

“He attacked Oberyn!” you almost shouted at him, “he was going to kill him given the chance! He almost did - he would have succeeded had it not been for you! Do you think I am going to let him get away with this in silence? That I will pretend nothing has happened?”

“I would not-”

“I will make myself a Bolton if it means I can flay him alive just as they would,” the anger and rage that had been building up the past few days were suddenly spilling over all you could see was red. Someone was going to pay - that someone was the man that did this himself. You still couldn’t believe your brother would something like this. You had had have a mind to believe it was all your mother’s doing anyway; your brother tended to be half wit anyway, “I will flay them all, I do not care.”

“You speak out of anger,” Jeron gave you a sharp look as you shrugged in exasperation, “I understand that you’re mad-”

“Furious.”

“Furious,” he corrected himself, “we all are. But we cannot just respond in kind. They will get what they deserve. It is not our duty to dole out justice, but too facilitate it.”

“Oberyn-”

“Would not want to act out like this and strike at first opportunity,” he insisted, and you knew he was right. He had known your husband for him many years, and he knew him almost as well as you did, even more so still in some aspects, “he would want you to think about every step you are taking carefully. It would not do well to incite a war.”

“The King would side with us,” you insisted firmly, “as would the Queen. The siblings know that Dorne has almost supported them, and the would not deny us their support in return."

“But the Reach still has much command too,” he reminded you, “your family has many loyal allies.”

“They are not my family,” you insisted sharply, “Oberyn is my family. The Martells are. You are. All of Dorne. The Beesburys are no family of mine anymore. They have made that crystal cllear.”

“Aye,” he agreed, letting out a long sigh and hanging his head, “but as one of your husband’s advisors, it is my duty to advise you as well. Especially since he is not able to right now. Let things settle. Wait till Oberyn is well again and then we go from there.”

A heavy, thick silence hung over the two of you for a moments as you stared into his dark eyes. You wanted to argue and fight with him, but you were well aware that his claim had merit.

“Fine-”

But before you could say anything else, you heard a soft mumbling and stirring coming from the head of the bed. The hand in yours fluttered slightly and a small gasp left your lips as you turned to look at Oberyn. He hadn’t done much, besides occasionally shifting in his sleep for nearing a week. You hoped this was a good sign.

“Go-go fetch the Maester!” you practically shouted at Jeron as he jumped up and ran over to the door, practically barreling it down in his haste. You clutched his hand more tightly in yours, lacing your fingers through his as you moved closer to him. Dropping to your knees, you rested your elbows near the edge of the bed, all the whole refusing to let go of his hand.

“Oberyn,” you whispered softly, your voice hoarse and cracking. You were thoroughly parched and starving, having barely left Oberyn’s side in the past two weeks. You refused to move in case something, anything, happened, leaving only when you absolutely needed. You hadn’t slept much either, too consumed with worry and guilt, and the faint bits of your revenge were consuming your every thought. At this rate you probably didn’t look much better than Oberyn. But at least you weren’t suffering...physically anyway. When he didn’t seem to move or do anything further, you let a long sigh.

Reaching over gently, you touched his cheek, trailing your fingers over the stubble that had grown due to this lack of shaving before raking your fingers through his mused curls. He’d been growing his hair out more lately and curled beautifully, making the perfect addition to his already handsome face. You desperately hoped you would get to see that wonderful smile beaming back at you soon.

“My love," you said softly, trying not to cry at his lack of response. You thought this meant...surely he would be coming to any day. The waiting was going to drive you mad. You prayed to every god, old and new, those of religions foreign to you, and yet nothing. You were growing desperate. You couldn’t face a world alone without your husband now that you knew what life was like. Now that you knew what love was like. He was but just yours, and already threatening to leave your side, “please wake up. Please. I am begging you with every fiber of my being. I will...will do whatever it takes to have you look at me again with those beautiful eyes. To hear my name fall from your sweet lips. Anything for you, my moon and stars. Please.”

A gentle knock came at the door and quickly wiped away the warm, salty tears that had rolled your cheeks. Standing up you beckoned the kind Maester, watching as Jeron closed the door after her. Coming to Oberyn’s side, she studied him for a moment before a weary look crossed her features. You didn’t like this at all, “he hasn’t woken?”

“No,” your voice was despondent as you shook your head and looked back down at his still form. If it weren’t for the gentle movement of his chest, you could have easily thought he was...no. You weren’t even going to let that thought cross your mind, “he appeared to be stirring, but I suppose it must have been nothing.”

“Have his dressings been changed?” she asked, pulling the blanket off of his top half and pulling the light tunic up. She pulled back the carefully applied bandages and studied the slowly healing wound. He was lucky, she had said upon her initial inspection, that the infection seemed mostly superficial and hadn’t spread into his blood. If it had, he would have been long gone before he even made it back to you. Now it was just a game of waiting and making sure the egregious wound healed properly. He was okay - but he wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.

“We’ve been keeping them changed and cleaning out the wound. It seems to be healing...right?”

She turned to give you a weak smile, but nodded nonetheless which set your heart at ease ever so slightly. You knew she wouldn’t lie to you, “yes. It’s making good progress. All we can do is keep it clean and make sure the dressings are changed. The rest of the lacerations are almost healed and his fever broke. The worst may be over, but we must still keep a close eye on him.”

“Of course,” you insisted and Jeron murmured his commitment as well, “we’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I know you will,” she acknowledged softly, “but if you don’t mind, Lady Martell, might we have a private word?”

Immediately you looked back down at Oberyn, wanting to remain behind and stay at his side. But Jeron offered you a kind smile, and jerked his head in the direction of the Maester. Five minutes, you mentally promised yourself, what was going to happen in five minutes?

“Yes,” you agreed, following her out of the quiet and solemn bed chambers and into the ones at the other end of the hall that had once belonged to you but were now empty once again, “is everything okay?”

“I know you are close to Ser Jeron, but I figured you might want privacy in this matter anyway,” she shut the door gently and leaned against the intricately carved wood, “I do hope you forgive my indiscretion and timing...but I wanted to follow up on our last visit.”

“Our last vis...oh,” you ran a hand through your disheveled hair before sitting down on the edge of the bed. It had seemed like forever ago, practically another lifetime ago, but you remembered it all very clearly, “I completely forgot. With everything going on…”

“As I almost did too,” she came over and sat down next to you, “I probably shouldn’t bring it up at such a delicate time. I apologize-”

“I’m not some fragile little thing made of glass,” you promised her, “I can handle whatever you tell me. Timing in life is rarely perfect, I find...but here we are. We must make due with what we have.”

“Indeed we must,” she gently reached over and gave your leg a squeeze, exhaling sharply through her nose, “women have been the backbone of society for all time it seems. We must bear so much and are awarded so little.”

“Not here,” you insisted, “not in Dorne. Things are different here thankfully. We are respected as we are.”

“It is fortunate to be a Dornish woman,” she agreed, “by blood or choice.”

“It is fortunate in my case to have a husband that has given me the choice,” she picked at a loose thread on the edge of the velveteen blanket, bracing yourself for what was to come. You already knew the answer, you were sure of it, “I feel as though you are skirting around the issue at hand. Please - speak freely, as I have told you, I have already settled on my fate.”

She was silent for a long moment before she reached over and put an arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. It was just a simple action, but left you feeling warm from inside out; such moments of maternal kindness were not lost on you. Pausing for a moment, she almost seemed to struggle with the words before getting them out, “I...I am very sorry, my lady. It appears that…”

“As I suspected,” you stopped her before she could go on. You’d already settled this in your mind...but why did it still cause your heart to ache and hurt? Almost as if you were yearning for something that you’d never even had, “it is of no matter. The Prince and I already...we already....it is fine.”

“But please, remember, that these tests are old fashioned and they don’t necessarily amount to much and there’s always a chance it will happen-”

“Please, Selsa, you don’t need to say anything,” you tried to keep your emotions in check and not let more tears well up. No. You knew this was your reality. You just hadn’t known it was going to hurt this much, “everything will be fine. Just please tell me...Oberyn. Realistically...will he…”

“I do not think you have a thing to worry about,” she insisted firmly, and your heart felt slightly lighter again, “he is strong and healthy. It will take more than a poor attempt on his life to take out the Red Viper. He just needs to heal. He’s doing it slowly, but he will do it. The worst is behind us.”

“Thank the gods,” you murmured softly, hiding your face in your hands, “or whatever is out there. I just...I want him to be okay.”

“And he will,” she promised, “I am sure it is partly your doing. Remaining by his side, speaking to him, holding his hand - he can feel it, hear you even.”

“Then I will remain by his side until the moment his eyes open again,” you promised, “I won’t leave his side ever again.”

»»————-　♡　————-«

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, you really hadn’t. But as the night wore on, your eyes grew heavier and heavier, a mixture of exhaustion and various other things causing you to finally succumb to sleep. You’d been reading one of the many books from Oberyn’s shelves, only half heartedly paying attention as you flicked your attention back to him every seconds. You’d gone through many pages but you weren’t sure if you’d actually absorbed much of anything. The book softly tumbled from your lap and onto the floor, landing with a dull thumb as your head pulled to the side.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but eventually you were stirred from your light slumber, a distant voice softly calling the sound of your name. But you were tired, so tired, and didn’t want to open your tired eyes. You pouted and made a small sound, refusing to oblige, wanting nothing more than to keep sleeping. You’d been so reluctant to do it at first and now you wanted nothing more than a good long rest. The voice was persistent though, almost to a fault, but the next time you heard your name, your eyes almost snapped open as you almost fell off the chair.

A small sound of sheer excitement left your lips as you found Oberyn looking back at you, his bleary eyes open, the softest of smiles tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Oberyn,” it was a soft sound, almost a plea as you stared at him, hardly believing that it was actually real. You dropped to your knees and leaned as close to him as possible, reaching over and gently stroking his face. A few tears rolled down your face as you stared back down at him, hardly believing your eyes, “Oberyn. My love, please tell me this is not a dream…”

“It is no dream,” he promised, his own voice hoarse and throat dry as he reached for your hand and placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I’m right here, my sweet girl.”

“Oberyn,” you leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to his lips as you held onto his hand for dear life. You couldn’t even believe your eyes as you stared back at him, his soft, brown eyes gentle as they took you in. He reached up and delicately wiped your tears again, “I was so, so worried. I-I thought…”

“Shh,” he was so soft and gentle in his tone and touch, that it made your heart melt all over again, “there is no reason to dwell on the past. You are here, I am here, that is all that matters.”

“Oberyn,” you repeated softly, nuzzling your nose against his, as you tried to convince yourself that this was real, this wasn’t some sort of fantasy. He was awake and you were able to touch him and speak to him once again, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he replied, ghosting his lips over your face as he peppered it in soft kisses. His lips were dry and chapped, but still so soft and gentle, “I couldn’t have asked for anything better than waking up the prettiest face I have ever seen.”

“You’re a fool,” you laughed at him, a small, strangled almost pitiful sound. You were so relieved, so thankful to have him back. You couldn’t believe it had finally happened.

“A fool for you,” he smiled meekly as you perched on the bed next to him, one hand holding his and the other touching his face, scratching at his scalp and smoothing his mussed curls, “I’ve missed you.”

“Oberyn,” you laughed through your tears, “oh by the gods, I’ve missed you so much, my moon and stars. You don't know how happy I am. To see your eyes, to hear your voice, to see you again.”

“I was always coming back,” he whispered, his eyes slowly getting heavy again from exhaustion, “always coming back to you, sunshine.”

“I know, my love,” you kissed his forehead gently, “rest now, as much as you need.”

“Will you stay?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Oberyn,” you promised, “never ever.”

»»————-　♡　————-«

"Tell me if its too hot, too cold, too anything, my love," you put your hands ever so lightly on his broad shoulders, slowly starting to strip him of the linen tunic he had sporting. He gladly obliged, lifting his arms up, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. You placed a delicate kiss on his lips before repeating the same actions with his trousers, letting them pool at his feet.

"You spoil this old man," he said as he took your hand and slowly settled into the steaming tub, leaning against the edge as you sat down next to him, perched at his side. He reached up a wet hand and quickly found yours, taking it gently in his.

"You are not an old man," you scolded him gently, "and I'm only giving you what you deserve."

"And more than," he insisted, "for clearly I could never be worthy of you."

"Shush," you insisted, reaching for the oils and powders that the Maester insisted you add to the water. She swore it was an ancient remedy that actually helped to aid the body in healing. You trusted her and at this point you were willing to try anything, "you may not be an old man, but you are a fool. You are more than worthy and I will hear nothing to the contrary."

He remained silent as he watched you worked, but his smile was brighter than the sun as he beamed at you. How he got so lucky to have you, he would never understand. You hummed under your breath ever so quietly, a little lullaby he recognized from his own childhood. He watched you work with such caution, his own heart melting at your care.

"How does it feel?" you asked after a few minutes, inhaling the sweet scent of the oils that were now mixed into the water. He made a small sound of content as he leaned back and you ran a hand through his hand curls. He keened into your touch as you settled next to him, grabbing a clean cloth to help wash his body.

"Good," he promised, his hand quickly finding your wrist and gripping it gently, but still firmly, "will you do me a favor, sweet girl?"

"Oberyn?" you asked, your breath hitched into your throat as he trailed a line of kisses to the soft skin of your inner arm, "w-what can I do for you?"

"Will you get in? With me?" he was almost timid as he nodded towards the other end of the tub. A flush of warmth immediately spread through you as you stared at the steaming water. You had no real reason to be nervous or shy, the man was your husband and has seen in much more compromising positions before, but something about this felt surprisingly intimate, "join me."

"Are you sure?" your voice was barely above a voice as you stirred the water slightly. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, delicately tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Yes, of course," he promised as you melted under his gaze. Giving him a small, affirmative nod, you rose to your full height, stretching lightly, relishing in the feel of the popping of your joints. After having been hunching in the small chair for the better part of the two weeks, your body had become sore and tight. His gaze was intent on as you reached for the fabric at your waist and slowly started to tug your shift dress off. After you pulled it over your head, you let it fall to the floor, joining his discarded clothes.

Despite the fact that you’d been bare before him on many occasions now, this felt different. Just as intimate as all the other times, but it felt special in its own way. His honeyed gaze roamed your body as he beckoned for you to join him, “you are so beautiful, my sweet girl.”

“And you are a foolish man, under the delirium of the remnants of your ailments,” you teased before slowly moving to the edge of the tub, lifting your leg and slowly sinking into the hot water. It felt like heaven on your skin, and a small sound of content, almost a little moan escaped your lips as you let the water get up to your chin. Settling on the other side of the wooden tub, you brought your knees to your chest, not wanting to take up too much of the space. You remained silent for a few moments, already lost in your own thoughts, but Oberyn quickly captured your attention back to you by flicked a small splash of water at you. It caught you off guard, but you broke into a fit of giggles nonetheless, “Oberyn!”

“Oops,” he teased, shooting you a wink as you did right back to him, “don’t start a fight you can’t finish.”

“Is that a challenge, my sweet prince?” you raised an eyebrow at him as he just innocently shrugged his shoulders. This was nice, and you wished every moment could be as easy and effortless as this. It was the first time you’d truly laughed in weeks, “I’ll take mercy on you since you are still weak, and it would not be fair to you.”

“A most kind and gentle wife you are,” he said softly. You made a small sound of acknowledgement before leaning back and relaxing, your knees still pulled close to you, “what’s wrong, sweet girl? You’re thinking much too loudly.”

“Nothing, my love,” you said quickly, too quickly, and sat up slightly, his inquisitive eyes suggesting that he did not believe you in the slightest.

“I am many things, but I am not a fool,” he reminded you as you nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. His touch was gentle as he reached over, his large hand delicately finding your cheek. Gods, you wished you could capture this moment forever. Nothing ever felt as warm and lovely as it did when he touched you, “you can tell me anything. You know this. First - you need to relax.”

He put his hands behind the backs of your knees and slowly stretched them out so they were spread around his. Taking your hands in hands, he laced your fingers together for a moment before placing your arms lazily on the edges, encouraging you to completely relax. You were surprised by his actions at first, but quickly acquiesced and did your best to comply.

“Happy?” you asked as you lulled your head back and closed you eyes, and tried not to completely lose it over how close you were to him, how warm and wonderful his skin felt against yours.

“Almost,” he mirrored your position, his tired and drained body already feeling so much better. He wondered if it was due to the healing process, or if it was more due to your presence. Although a man of intelligence and science, he couldn’t help but think it was due to you more than anything else. Whatever the reason, he was glad to finally be awake and able to get back to life, slowly but surely, “one more thing will make me happier…”

“Whatever is it, my prince?”

“Tell me what’s on your mind, my sweet girl,” he insisted and you stiffened for just a moment.

"Truly, it is nothing," you shook your head trying to get him get him off the subject that was on your mind. He was still recovering and didn't need to add anything else to his plate, "I am-"

"You are not just tired," he arched an eyebrow at you, and you internally groaned. Sometimes he was perceptive to a fault. He sat up and looked at you, crooking a finger to have you do the same. Slowly you did so, sitting up so you were mere inches from him. He pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a long breath before kissing your forehead, and then your nose, and stopping at your lips, "please tell what's causing you such woe, my sunshine."

"A week after Arianne returned and you had not returned, I grew worried," you admitted and you could see him visibly stiffen, "there was no word from you and I just...couldn't stand the idea of something happening to you. I want to Doran and demanded answers. At first he didn't want to say anything...but eventually he told me.”

"What did my brother tell you?" he reached up and traced a few fingers our your features. You shrugged at first, but quickly decided not to try and lie or beat around the bush.

"H-he told me you went to Old Town," you confessed, letting out a long breath. He gaze shifted to one of concern as he put a hand under your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. His soft, dark eyes were soft and filled with concern.

"What do you know of Old Town?"

"That it is home of the Citadel," you said and he nodded, "and many, many brothels. My home...well former home, was near there and I always heard all the stories."

"You are indeed correct on both accounts," he agreed quietly as you just nodded, unable to keep a tear from rolling down your cheek. He made a small sound in the back of his throat before gently wiping the tear away, "what's wrong?"

"I feel so foolish..." you admitted, "I know we always agreed on the fact that we are allowed to seek solace and comfort in others, but I just...I didn't expect it. I just...I want you to be happy, no matter. Even if that is not always in my arms."

"What?" he asked, concern coloring his expression he gently took your face in his hands, "do you think I went to a brothel? Do you think I went and spent nights in the company of others?"

"I just...I thought...it is not my place to be angry about such a thing. If that is what you desire then-"

"Listen to me, my love," he gently brought a finger to your lips, effectively quieting you down, "I did not step foot into a brothel, nor did I have any desire to. I swear it on my life."

"Oh," you felt warmth rising up in your skin as you suddenly felt like a complete fool. You should have known better, known better than to fall victim to rumors and gossip. You should have known and trusted that your husband would do no such thing without telling you first, "oh."

"If the day ever comes to where I even have such thoughts, you will be the first to know. I would do nothing without your knowledge," he looked to make sure you understood and you nodded gently, suddenly feeling like a large weight had been lifted from your shoulders, "you never have to worry about anything. You are my wife, my love, my sunshine. You never have to worry or doubt my love or devotion to you."

"I love you," you whispered softly, "I'm sorry I ever questioned or doubted you, Oberyn."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, he said softly, "your concerns and feelings are always valid."

"Can I just..." you paused as you reached up and touched his cheek, causing him to keen into your touch, "what took you into Old Town?"

"I went to the Citadel," he stated simply, "to see the Maesters that once that taught me. Nothing very exciting...I went to get some books as well, I found some I thought you might like."

"Me?" it was a broken little whisper as you looked at him with the largest, softest eyes, a smile tugging on your features. Oberyn melted at the sight as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"Yes," he insisted, "of course you, silly girl. Who else?"

"I love you, Oberyn."

"I love you," he promised as you laid back down and relaxed. Just like that, all your fears and worries were alleviated. You felt silly for even worrying in the first place, "there is...one more thing."

"What is it?" you asked quietly, offering him your full attention.

"Honeyholt," he said softly, "that's where I was when..."

"My brother found you," you finished as he nodded lightly, "you were in Honeyholt...you went there without me...my childhood home. I-I don't understand..."

"It was a multifaceted excursion," he began softly, as you waited for him to go on, "firstly, let me apologize for not being upfront and fully transparent with you. I fully intended on this being a surprise for you."

"Another surprise? For me?" you were incredulous as he just nodded, "whatever for?"

"Must there be a reason, sweet wife?" he asked as you practically beamed at him. He sat back and motioned for you to move towards him. You quirked an eyebrow at him but he just held up both hands and beckoned again for you to closer. Instead, you stuck out your tongue and shook your head, opting to tease him instead, "are you saying no to your prince?"

"I'm saying no to my husband," you giggled as he moved closer to your side of the side of the tub.

"You're saying no to your husband, the Prince?" he asked again as he put his arms on either side of you, moving slowly not exacerbate his injury. He moved closer so he mere inches from you, and could feel his body heat radiating onto you.

"Yes, I suppose I am," you said softly, "what are you going to do about it?"

"I can show you," he whispered softly before pressing his lips against yours in the sweetest of kisses. You grinned against his lips as he offered you a few more pecks, which you eagerly accepted.

"You're going to kiss me until I acquiesce?"

"Is it working?"

"Hmmm," you pretended to shrug your shoulders in contemplation, "might need to give me a few more to find out."

"Gladly," you could feel him smirking against your lips before he slowly worked his way along your jaw and neck, causing you to involuntary moan.

"Oberyn," his name was said with nothing but reverence as your arms snaked around his neck. He dragged his nose along your collarbone before nuzzling against your face.

"Have I won you over?" his voice was low like warm, thick honey as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

"Of course. You always have me, dear husband," you promised, placing a hand on his cheek and tracing over his features gently, "but you must be careful, my moon and stars. You're hurt and I don't want you to make it worse."

"I'm practically healed," he promised, "nothing else will go wrong. I swear it."

"I don't want you to...I don't want to cause more hurt simply because of my desires," your voice was so low he struggled to hear you, but a look of concern caused his brow furrow, "not anymore than you already have been...all because of me."

"What?" he gave you a stunned look as he pulled back and turned your face up to meet his, "you blame yourself for what happened to me?"

"Yes," you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, "none of this would have happened to you if I...if I wasn't your wife. Its my fault, my own brother did this to you, Oberyn. I cannot help hut to blame myself for this."

"Shhhhh," he was so gentle as he brushed away your tears and tried to calm you down, "I do not blame you, I do not want you to blame yourself for this."

"You could have-"

"No," he insisted sharply, "that will never happen to me, I swear this to you. I will never leave you, my sunshine."

"Do you promise?" you sniffled.

"I promise," he sounded so sure in himself, so confident that you couldn't help but believe him, "it will take much more than a mere man to take me out of this world and away from you."

“I love you,” you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him as he held you closed, whispering soft reassurances against the side of your head as he peppered you in kisses, “I should have never doubted you or anything, my moon and stars.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered, “it’s okay. We’re still new at this whole thing…we will figure it all out as we go.”

“Okay,” you pulled back and gave him a small nod, “you swear you’ll always come back to me?”

“Always,” he promised, “always.”

“Good,” you sighed softly as you leaned into his touch, “now will you tell me why you were in Honeyholt?”

“I’m afraid it’s not a very exciting reason,” he laid back down in the tub, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. You were careful to try and avoid the still healing wound. Relaxing into his touch, you rested your head on his shoulder and turned to placed few kisses to his jaw, “I went because I wanted to come back with a few things to surprise you.”

“W-what?”

“I went to inquire about getting some bulbs and seeds from the flowers in your father’s gardens,” he simply said, “I know how much you loved gardening with him. I thought I could bring that here for you, in Dorne. I know the climate is different, but I did some research into which flowers and plants are most suited for the warmer weather.”

Your eyes started to prickle with tears as you reached for his hand and clutched it tightly to your chest. He had done all of that for you.

“Oberyn,” his name fell softly off your lips, “you did that for me?”

“Of course,” he chuckled warmly as he kissed your cheek, “why wouldn’t I?”

“You are everything,” you insisted.

“I’m afraid I was not very successful,” he almost sounded like this was all fault, “your brother only gave me a few things before things went awry...I don’t think he appreciated my presence.”

“I think that is an understatement,” you insisted.

“My other objective was to ask about a possible return to Honeyholt,” he explained, “for you. I know that upon our marriage things with your family didn’t end on the best note, and I was hoping to rectify that. If nothing else, I wanted you to be able to return home for a visit, if you ever so desired.”

“You went there to speak of peace and kindness between our families, and my brother did this to you?” you turned around so you were facing him again, a frown etched deeply onto your features, “my own flesh and blood attempted to murder my husband.”

“You do not know his-”

“I do, Oberyn,” you insisted sharply, “I know. He called our own father a fool on his deathbed, he called me a disgrace because I was not married off as a child bride, he called the Dornish - our people - savages. He is a foul, loathsome person that I harbor no love for. It does not matter that we share the same lineage, the same blood, he is no family of mine. Our ancestors would be horrified by actions - he is a disgrace to the Beesbury name. I say this, and I vow it to be true, but I will never return to Honeyholt. There is nothing left there for me - the last bit of love I harbored for it died along with my father, and Waylar.”

“It does not do well to speak such words out of anger, my sweet girl,” Oberyn could practically feel the fire in your blood as he ran his hands over your back, tracing soft, aimless shapes into the flesh, “do not say something you will regret later because you are angry now.”

“I speak out of anger, yes, but I know I will not take back my words,” you exhaled slowly, “they tried to take you away from me, Oberyn. The only person that has ever loved me in such a way, the only person...I have ever loved so deeply. I do not want a life without you, and that’s what they would so willingly do. If it hadn’t been for Jeron they would have succeeded. I will never, ever forgive them for that. Never.”

“He is family-”

“No,” you quickly cut him off, your hands gently going to his face, “he is not family. Not anymore. None of them. You are family. You, Doran, Arianne, Quentyn, Ellaria, Jeron, all the girls - you are my family. Dorne is my home. Blood does not make a family, love does.”

“And I have an infinite amount of love for you,” he leaned in close, so his nose was brushing against yours, “you know that.”

“I do,” you agreed, “and I you. But I will not forgive him - nothing will change my mind. He will however to atone for his sins and I will-”

“You will do nothing,” he suggested as you pouted at him. You were not a violent, vengeful person, but you didn’t want to let him get away with anything either. He should have to suffer, just like Oberyn did...just like you did, “I know it seems easy and favorable to go and the same right back, but I have learned over the years that that is not the right choice.”

“Am I supposed to sit back and allow this?”

“No, of course not,” he answered and you just arched your brows in question, “we will show him everything he’s missing out on - love, family, happiness. We will thrive. That’s what he does not want. So we shall do everything to prove him wrong.”

You listened and watched him with the utmost adoration as he spoke, overcome with a wave of emotion. This was your husband. The man you loved and the man that loved you. How did you ever get so lucky?

“I love you so much,” you whispered as you hugged him close to your body, wanting to feel as much of him as possible, “you’re right, of course you’re right. I don’t know what I would do without you...I was ready to storm Honeyholt myself and make him pay. I would never have forgiven him.”

“And it will be okay,” he whispered, “my body will heal and we shall carry on with our lives.”

“There is one thing,” you leaned back, kissing the tip of his nose before slowly standing up as you moved to get out of the now lukewarm water. Oberyn leaned on the side of the tub, resting his head on his arms as he watched you with a wistful smile. You grabbed a soft, fluffy towel and wrapped it around yourself before getting another for him.

“And what would that be?” he asked as you leaned to give him a kiss before reaching for his hands to help him up.

“You are never leaving my side again,” you stated firmly, leaving no possibility that it was a demand rather than a question, “wherever you go, I go.”

“That is a hard deal to pass up,” he agreed as he stood to his full height and slowly stretched as you draped the towel around him, “so I will not.”

“I wasn’t aware it was up for debate,” you gave him a pseudo-stern look as he stepped out and you took his hand, “now it’s time to get you clean clothes and back to bed. You need to rest, my prince.”

“And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“You must be exhausted as well,” he said quietly as you shrugged, trying to play it off as though it wasn’t obvious, “come lie with me. I fear I shall not rest unless you are with me.”

“And who is asking? The prince?”

“Your husband,” he whispered softly, “your friend, your confidant, your lover.”

“Then say no more,” you struggled to hold back a yawn as you pulled back the fresh, clean blankets of the bed, wasting no time in getting under them, “come on then, my moon and stars.”

Oberyn quickly joined you, pulling you into his arms before pulling the blankets over both of you, “rest now, sunshine. I will keep you safe and sound.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #ino #in name only #prince oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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darkcircles4lyfe · 3 years

Text

retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both.

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil.

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms:

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really.

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on.

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him.

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit.

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty.

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice.

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.)

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance.

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered.

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted.

See you next week <3

#phew that was a lot #I just wanted to show how things are aligning #I know a lot of this has been said #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 320 #bnha 321 #mha #bakudeku #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha meta #lin speaks

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 5/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

"There is also a letter for you, sir."

Levi snatched it out of the messenger's fingers, thanking him by a quick, curt nod.

"You may go," he said, waiting for the soldier to leave, so he could read the letter in silence.

Just as he opened it, however, Zeke's face appeared right in front of him, materializing out of thin air.

"Got a love letter, Captain?" he mocked, his eyes glinting. "Or were you popular only once in your life?"

There was a fire right behind Zeke. Levi longed to throw him there. He almost smiled, as he imagined the beast running around with his pants on fire. Watching it would be much more satisfying than simply punching him in a face. Although.... if the beast lost his pants, Levi would be forced to become an unwilling spectator to Zeke walking around half naked. And Levi would rather slit his own throat with a sword.

"Mind your own business, beast," he grumbled, having his fill of arguing with Zeke. The bastard just wanted to get rise out of him anyway. One time Levi had let him. He wouldn't allow Zeke to have another victory. "And get lost. If you won't let me read the letter in peace, I won't let you read at all."

Levi pointedly looked at the book in Zeke's hands. The beast took a staggering step back, cradling the book protectively to his chest.

"Now I see why you weren't popular," he arrogantly scoffed, but left hurriedly before Levi could act on his threat.

When Zeke was a safe distance away, Levi sat down by the fire and opened the letter. The handwriting consisted of small, carefully curved letters. Armin's handwriting.

Levi hesitated to open it. He hoped it wasn't anything urgent. He hoped it wasn't bad news.

But if the things remained just as they were when he left, it could very well be both.

Oh how he hated being away. When he was in a thick of it, at least, he had the illusion of having control.

And right now, the only thing he could control was Zeke. As long as the beast’s and their goals aligned and the beast let Levi control him. And who knew when that was going to change.

It was going to change, Levi was sure of it.

Worry about that later, when the time comes, he told himself, as he shook his head, pushing anxious thoughts to the back of his mind, and finally opened the letter.

Sitting a little closer to fire, he started reading.

Captain Levi!

I hope the messenger brought you everything you needed. If supplies are running low, please tell me so.

I'm sure you want to know what's going on our side. Do not fret, we're holding on. For now. The tensions are still running high, but Commander Pixis is doing a great job of keeping everything under control. Commander Dawk helps plenty too, and together they're working closely with Chief Zacklay to ensure the island's safety.

Yesterday, I wrote a letter to Historia, requesting her to come back. I know she has to care for herself and her future child, but I think... maybe, we can use people's love for the Queen to put an end to their protests. There are more and more people gathering next to our headquarters. I think it’s time for her intervention.

Another matter you should know about is the fate of these Marleyans kids, Gabi Braun and Falco Grace. Unfortunately, they escaped from the prison, but rest assured we're going everything we can to locate them.

Truth be told, I worry about them. It's dangerous for them to walk around the island, while we're in the middle of that mess. Many people don't like Marleyans, so I hope these kids are at least smart enough to not start any trouble. Hange-san told me the very same thing - she worries for Falco and Gabi, but doesn't think they'll do something stupid.

And before you can ask, yes, I've interrogated Hange-san about their escape, she knows nothing. What's more, Jean, Sasha and Connie were with her in the presumptive time of the escape. If you don’t trust her, at least have faith in them.

Well, as I said, we're working on bringing them back.

Oh, and, by the way, Captain, we let Hange-san stay in her old room, just like I told you we would. She praised whoever cleaned it. Don't worry, though, I kept your secret. Hange-san is too smart to be fooled so easily, but, alas, I did my best.

If you need anything, send a letter immediately. Stay alert and keep your wits about you, Captain.

The others are eagerly waiting for your return. Connie and Sasha are doing their best at keeping the headquarters clean. And Mikasa is doing a great job of taking over your duties and training the recruits. Oh, and Moblit-san sends his regards.

I hope you’re holding on. I’m sure you are.

Best wishes, Armin

With a letter still in his hand, Levi stared at the fire, thinking it all over.

Bringing Historia back could help ease the tensions, or… It could make it all even worse. But the Queen’s influence was undeniable, in that regard, Armin was right. She was probably the only one who could get them out of this mess.

And these damned Marleyan brats… Escaping from the prison was not an easy feat. Marleyans had taught them well, it seemed.

Was Hange involved in their trainings as well?

Whether she was or she was not, Levi didn’t believe she had helped them to escape. What for? If someone finds out where they came from, they’d be killed on sight. Hange would never do something so careless. If she truly cared about these kids, and it seemed like she actually did, she’d bargain with Armin and others, ask them to let the kids stay with her.

In her room. That he had cleaned.

He briefly wondered what Hange reaction had been like. Was she surprised? Confused? Touched?

She was most probably enraged, Levi concluded. Pissed off that all of her things weren’t on their places – Levi made sure they weren’t. Maybe, he was too much of a pitiful idiot to throw her shit out, but he knew the other way to get to Hange.

He used to know so many things about Hange.

There had been a time he thought he knew everything. Now he knew better.

***

"Another letter?"

As soon as the messenger left, Zeke was right beside him, his head raised high, as he attempted to take a peak over Levi's shoulder.

Levi swatted him away, too confused by the letter and the large enough package he had received to answer Zeke with the violence he so rightfully deserved.

"Get lost," he just said, blindly reaching behind him to push Zeke away.

"I don't care what you have there," the beast scoffed, lifting his haughty nose even higher. "I just came to ask if there are any letters for me."

Levi looked up at him in surprise, his lips curling up. Letters for Zeke? The notion was so ridiculous he almost started to laugh.

"Do you seriously think there is someone who would write letters to you? Your dear brother is in prison and he isn't allowed to talk even to his friends, and you expect a letter from him?"

In the face of Levi's open mockery, Zeke's eyes darkened. "Eren is not the only who can write to me. From what I've heard, she's not in prison anymore."

Oh, so he was using that card again? Levi wasn't going to succumb to it. He wasn't. Not again.

Still, his fingers gripped the letter more tightly, as he threw a sizzling gaze at the beast.

But. At least, he didn't hit him. Clearly, a progress.

"She is not allowed to write letters either," he revealed. "And letting Hange reside in her old room wasn't my decision."

"Clearly," Zeke nodded, his lips moving upwards. "If it was up to you, she'd be sleeping in your room, isn’t that right, Captain?"

The letter in his hand crumpled as Levi attempted to take a breath and keep himself from latching on the bastard.

But clearly, Zeke wasn’t finished. Clearly, he wanted more of Levi’s rage.

“And, just so you know,” he lowered his voice, as though he was going to tell him a secret. He crouched down to his level too, his hand next to his ear. Levi was too dazed to push him away. “When Hange cares about someone, she always finds a way.”

“Then where is your letter, Zeke?”

There was a beat of silence, the beast’s mouth falling open as he struggled to find his own words. Fucking finally, he managed to get him back.

Reveling in his small victory, Levi pushed past Zeke, heading to his tent.

There, he lighted the candle and put the package down onto a wooden table, sitting down beside it. Deciding to start with the letter, he opened it in a quick, fluid motion. His chest warmed, as he recognized Moblit’s neat, delicate handwriting. He didn’t even notice it, his thoughts too scattered amidst all this mess, but he missed his friend. More than he thought he would.

Captain!

How are you doing? Hope you’re not picking too many fights with our shifter-ally. Remember, we need him alive - at least, until we feed him to someone else. Although, I’m sure you’re keeping it together. You know just how important this is.

As on our end, things are not going all too well. Truthfully, I don’t know how bad it actually is, I have been out of loop lately, but I trust Commanders Pixis and Dawk and our Armin to get us through this.

There are rumors of the Queen getting back, or so Sasha told me. In my opinion, it’s dangerous to let Historia into the city, but, maybe, it really can help ease the tensions. Maybe, if she advises everyone to calm down, protesters will stop shouting under my window. It’s a good thing you aren’t here, Captain, these protesters – Yeagerists, as they started to call themselves, - are absolutely horrible. They’re loud and rowdy, and, honestly, their demands are making me a bit worried.

Maybe, they’re so bold because you aren’t here. I’m sure one deadly look from you and they’d scatter.

I also miss our evening tea parties, you wouldn’t believe it, I know – but I really do, terribly so. I went to the Niccolo’s place recently, tried a new pastry there, you will absolutely love it. I wanted to send it to you, but I was afraid it won’t be as delicious after a long road.

Now, I think it’s time to get to the thing that interests you the most – the package I sent you. I hope you haven’t opened it yet, so let me explain what it is first. I’ve included a few of my sketches in the second part of the letter, so you can get the overall idea of what it is.

In your absence, I’ve started to visit Sq Hange-san more often (I know what you’d say – we can’t trust her and should be more careful around here, but… we’ve been through much together, even if some part of it was a lie. It’s stronger than me. I’m sure you can understand) and we started working together on something new.

I’m not going to lie, working with her after all these years is still exciting to me. She’s just as brilliant as I remember, perhaps even more so, now that she doesn’t have to hide the whole extent of her knowledge.

She critiqued our performance during the Reid on Liberio. I was offended at first, surely, it wasn’t such a disaster. What we did was disastrous, I can’t and won’t deny it, but how we did it? It really was rather a success? Minimal amount of casualties on our side and another shifter, taken away from Marley…

But Hange-san wasn’t nearly as impressed. She said that we could do so much better, if only we improved our equipment.

Of course, I couldn’t refuse her offer to work together again. So, without further ado, here I present to you, Captain – the new uniform of Survey Corps’ soldier. We used some parts of our old uniform and uniforms of Anti-Personnel Control Squad, so now aiming and recharging the gun is a lot easier and carrying thunder spears is more comfortable too.

We haven’t done enough tests on this one yet, and, as of now, we only have a few models (yours is actually the first one we made), but I do think the modified version should be implemented among our ranks.

I’m eager to hear what you think about it, and I’m even more eager to have you back with us.

I’m not the only one who waits for you to come back. One person in particular is interested in your well-being. She doesn’t actually ask, but she always listens carefully. Turns out, reading Hange-san is as easy as it’s always been.

Waiting to hear from you,

Moblit.

Whenever he was expecting to read in Moblit’s letter, that wasn’t it. He half-expected that the package would contain a new type of tea or a warmer blanket. What he did not expect was a new uniform.

That Moblit created with Hange.

He looked at the pages, attached to the letter. Detailed, realistic looking sketches were undoubtedly made by Moblit’s skilled hand. But the crooked, hurried notes could only be written by her.

Staring at these sketches brought back unwanted memories. Nights, spent in the dimly-lit lab, brown eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm and excitement, burning brighter than the candle beside them, the deep, melodic voice enchanting him with one theory after another.

How calm, how content he had felt during these fleeting moments, during these nights he spent next to Hange.

And now the only emotions these memories brought back were pain and shame. She lied, she betrayed, and yet he still couldn’t let these moments go, still held them inside his heart, in the depth of his soul where no one would see them but him.

She lied, she betrayed, and all these moments were fake, but they still were. They happened, and when they did, they brought him an evanescent happiness.

And he was pathetic enough to still treasure them.

With a deep sigh, Levi put the letter down, reaching over for the package.

He took the wrappings off slowly and carefully, despite his eagerness to know what was inside. He didn’t know who made them, who sew the fabric together. It could very well be Moblit, the man was talented in various areas. It could very well be Hange. Despite her messy appearances, she was good with needle and thread, he had learnt it first-hand, when he got injured during expedition and Hange had sewed the skin of his arm quickly and neatly, her touch surprisingly careful and gentle.

When he was done with the wrapping, he took out what was inside. Black pants, black shirt, it looked so different from the old uniform.

He put it on, meticulously checking that every belt and fasting was in its place, zipped and secured. Finished, he stood before the mirror, turning this and that way.

It wasn’t ugly, Levi was sure it was very efficient and he would test it all by himself, when his squad would go to sleep, but he liked the old one better. He felt more comfortable in it, more like himself. More like a Captain of Survey Corps who fought against bloodthirsty titans. But the weapons this uniform was modified for wasn’t made for defeating titans. It was made for defeating humans.

And he still struggled with accepting that new, simple truth.

He couldn’t deny, though, Moblit was right.

Hange was just as brilliant as they all had remembered.

It made him think – albeit, fleetingly – how far would they go, if they had her with them? How far would she have taken them if she was always on their side?

How happy he would be, if she still had been with him?

Pointless brooding, he decided and started to peel off the uniform.

Its efficiency in fighting other humans was doubtless. That’s why Levi hoped he would never have to use it.

***

“Um, Captain, wait a moment, please…” the messenger frowned, scratching his head in confusion, as he stared at the letter in his hands. “It’s not signed, but maybe I’ve lost something…”

His put his arm inside the back pack, rummaging through it. Levi waited for a second, two, ten, twenty… The messenger was still at it. His patience running low, Levi grabbed the unsigned letter. If it was some soldier’s love letter, he’d get it back. But if that was something important…

He opened the letter.

And had his breath caught in his throat, because that— that crooked, hurried handwriting… He could recognize it anywhere.

“I’ll be in my tent,” he announced, his voice shakier than he was comfortable with.

He all but tumbled inside, leaning against the table to keep himself steady. His eyes ran over the letter, taking it all in.

The message was short, fairly simple. But it raised so many questions, filled him with emotions so raw he could choke on them.

Levi,

Something bad is going to happen. Don’t take your eyes off Zeke. Don’t underestimate him.

Be careful. And, please, come back home safely.

It took him but a moment to read it all. But the few words of the letter kept replaying in his mind over and over, making it impossible to fall asleep. Levi mulled it over again and again, trying to find some sense, trying to understand.

He got his first clue the very next day, when the messenger was back again, sweaty and panting.

Chief Zacklay is dead, he said, murdered inside his own office.

And the look Zeke had given him, the long, intent gaze that didn’t waver as Levi had followed after his soldiers to get more details.

That was his second clue.

#oh look! it's an update!#i actually planned this chapter to be longer and more to the point and i intended to show hange's pov #but then i thought ab moblit and levi's friendship and couldn't stop myself kfdjglgjdlfg #levihan #levihan fanfiction

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding VII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI

CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags.

It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.

“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!”

"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”

Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.

But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence.

Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)

“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered.

“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.

“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.

“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach.

A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.”

“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...

Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.

Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes

and saw the temple apartment.

He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end.

It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he

still in the temple.

Kark. Shit.

‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.

Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them.

Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out.

Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.

That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.

Nothing.

Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.

This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.

He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.

It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.

A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.

What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?

He had a vibroblade in the desert too...

His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.

He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.

Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.

He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it.

Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.

Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.

He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.

It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.

Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.

Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.

He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.

---

Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.

He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...

He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.

He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.

He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.

Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.

He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing.

He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.

Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.

Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow.

Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.

One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.

What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.

He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,

“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”

“that’s why- hkk I have to” Obi-Wan rasped.

“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”

Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it.

The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.

Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.

“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.

“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.

Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know.

“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply.

“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”

“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.

“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.

Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.

“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...”

But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy

“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”

Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”

Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it.

“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance”

There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”

“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply.

Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch.

“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”

“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.

“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”

“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”

Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away.

----

Part VIII

#star wars #potentially triggering #self harm #attempted suicide #blood #graphic depictions of injury #violence #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #suicidal misunderstanding au #my au #star wars au no 27 #angst #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #KRIFF this was intense to write #i need a hug #jeez #story was supposed to go emotional catharsis Healing TRAUMA healing Emotional Catharsis but i may have played myself with the middle bit #hope you enjoy :)#or at least suffer with me

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

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My One And Only - Chapter 12

Previous | Next

We’re finally onto the long chapters! Yay! We’re also catching up to where I currently am spin the story so frequent updates will be a thing of the past, sorry. Oh and before you read this chapter I gotta say something,

|| TW: This chapter does cover some topics that may be sensitive to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised ||

Rose was probably the one who gave Lila Marinette’s phone number since Lila asked sOo NicELy and Rose was too kind. So kind that she’s oblivious to the fact her kindness is hurting others.

•~•

Marinette then looked for something to put in her hair. She decided to put her hair into a ponytail tied with a long, dark red, silk ribbon. She finished her outfit and she realised she had plenty of time left before school started. Marinette noticed a notification for a message, rolling her eyes as she saw who it was from, Lila. Marinette took a deep breath before going to read it. 'It can't be that bad, right?'

Wrong.

————————————————————

Lie-la: I said that I would take everything from you and i am a woman of my word but...I'm kinda bored. This is taking far too long. You should go kill yourself, it's not like anyone would care anyway. Go to the top of News tower and jump, no one will care. I surely won't. You don't deserve happiness. Just cross to the other side. Jump. No one will care. No one ever did. They're all fake, I'm just doing a favour for you. Jump. Kill yourself. No one loves you, no one cares. Jump, jump and fall to your miserable death. On News tower at 6:30, jump. You'll be able to get a good view of the world before you die. Not like I care. Jump. Kill yourself. You're a burden, everyone hates you. Just jump, die. Bleed, bleed out and die. Jump. Die. Kill yourself. Don't forget to leave a note. HAH! Who am I kidding? No one will read it anyway. Just kill yourself already.

Marinette only needed to read it once. She had a blank expression on her face, she wasn't going to give in to emotion, even though she wanted to. Tikki, noticing the change in emotion, flew over to Marinette. She caught a glimpse of her owner's screen before gasping and going to hug her.

"Thanks, I really needed that Tikki" Marinette sniffed before gathering herself. "Come on, I don't wanna be late!" She exclaimed, plastering a smile on her face. Tikki was unsure but went in Marinette's bag anyway. Marinette ran down the stairs, grabbing a croissant and said bye to her parents. She then sprinted to school, ignoring all the 'hello's on the way to the locker room. Alya, realised this and easily became suspicious.

"Hey Girl!" She said as Marinette approached. "You feeling good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine"

Alya and Nino looked at each other, confused, then Alya looked to Chloe who only shrugged her shoulders. Obviously there was something wrong. Then Alya got an idea. She pulled her phone out and texted the only person she knew Marinette would open up to. Damian.

Me: Hey can you check on Mari today?

Damian-boi: Why? Is something wrong?

Me: I think so but she isn't opening up

Damian-boi: I'll invite her over

Then, when Alya was putting her phone away, she saw Mari look at her phone and smile. 'He'll find out what's wrong'. Nino and Chloe also noticed that Marinette had smiled for the first time that day, she only had a blank expression, tired even.

"Did you send her a message or?" Chloe asked confused.

Alya shook her head. "I didn't but I'm sure Mari now has something to look forward to later"

Chloe looked at Nino, wanting answers. He shrugged his shoulders. Either way, they were glad that their friend had a burst of happiness. But she deserved so much more.

~~~

Damian was sitting on a seat by one of his hotel room's window, reading a book from the bookshelf provided. Though, it was merely a distraction. He sighed while putting the book down, he wanted to ask Marinette on a date he just couldn't figure out how. 'Why is this so difficult?' Then a message popped up on his phone.

Césaire: Hey can you check up on Mari today?

'Is Angel ok?'

Me: Why? Is there something wrong?

Césaire: I think so but she isn't opening up

'I'll talk to her later'

Me: I'll invite her over

He sent a message to Marinette then he put his phone down, to say he was slightly concerned would be an understatement. True he had only known Marinette for a few days, but he was willing to do anything to make sure she was happy and safe. Damian knew Marinette would do the same. He wanted to come up with a plan to make her happy. And that's what he did. But he did look up the Parisian heroes first, eying Ladybug closely. 'She looks very similar to Angel, wait a damn minute...'

~~~

The bell went and Marinette headed towards Miss Bustier's classroom with Alya, Chloe and Nino not far behind. Since Marinette was quite far ahead of them, Lila managed to sneak a comment in without Marinette's friends hearing.

"I spoke the truth earlier, you are better off dead" Lie-la sneered.

Marinette flinched slightly, Lila saw this and was convinced the Marinette had heard her. She put a clueless and innocent expression on her face but on the inside, she felt victorious. Marinette on the other hand, felt horrible and absolutely gutted on the inside but had a blank expression on her face. She wanted to break down and cry right there, but she couldn't. If she would, Hawkmoth would akumatize her and there would be no stopping the villain she would become. As she thought down, she remembered that she would be going to Damian's later which was something to look forward too.

Alya had noticed that Marinette seemed even more down than when she first came in school. "Girl, you ok?"

Marinette shot as sad smile at Alya. "Just Lila being Lila" Mari muttered to her best friend. Alya had a mix of sadness and anger towards that liar, she obviously said something to make her best friends sad. Alya still had time before Miss Bustier arrived so she shuffled to get up, only to sit back down again after Marinette had shook her head. "It's nothing serious, I don't want more backlash"

Alya sighed. "Fine but after school I will confront her". Marinette knew there was no way to get convince her best friend otherwise. 'I just have to last till the end of the day' Marinette thought to herself.

Her thought was easier said than done, Lila had managed to say some hurtful comments every time Marinette was in view without any of her friends noticing. The school day went slower than a garden snail, much to the bluenette's dismay. She wanted to get out of there, away from Lila and just break down. Lila had never managed to get this far into her skin, she swore she could feel the words stabbing her heart. It hurt. Just as the school bell went, indicating that school was over, Marinette got up and tired to leave the classroom as fast as possible. She was so close to the school doors, she thought she would be able to leave without seeing Lila. That thought was interrupted by something cold, incredibly cold, running down her back.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry Marinette!" The liar apologized though, Marinette knew that Lila had done this on purpose. 'It's 4°C, why else would she have an ice cold drink?'

"Lila what the hell!" Alya shouted gaining many, including Lila's, attention.

"I-I didn't m-mean I-it" she stammered, crocodile tears forming in her eyes.

"Alya stop shouting at Lila! It was an accident!" Rose's stern voice echoed.

Marinette ignored the conversation, or argument, that followed. She was ice cold and needed to change. Right now, the only place she wanted to be at was Damian's. She reached her parents bakery, ran up the stairs and grabbed anything that had long sleeves. She wore a rosewood over sized, turtleneck jumper with over the knee boots. By now she was warmer but not as warm as she needed to be, though she really didn't care. Lila knows where the bakery is so Marinette didn't feel safe at that moment. The bluenette then rushed downstairs, her parents weren't around 'Probably packing for their flight tonight'. Her sprinting had slowed to a casual walk as she approached the hotel doors, her face blank and expressionless. Marinette got in the lift, pressed a button and got out when she reached his floor. She stopped in front of his hotel door and took a deep breath before knocking.

~~~

Damian closed his laptop. He had done some research on the Parisian superheroes, Ladybug specifically. He made a mental note about how similar both Angel and Ladybug were before he heard a knock at the door. 'Angel probably'. He went over and opened the door to see a frail looking Marinette, she never looked like that. That made Damian suspicious and worried. "Come in Habibti" He gestured for her to sit on the settee in his room and instead of replying, she gave him a sad smile and walked in. 'Whoever hurt her, be prepared to face my wrath'. As she sat on the couch, Damian locked the door and sat next to her. He noticed how she was avoiding eye contact so he placed his hand under her cheek, turning her head to face himself so she couldn't break eye contact. A pink blush lightly dusted her cheeks. "Angel" he began. "I am no good with emotions, I'm sure you know that by now. But that does not mean I can't tell when you're hurting. Please, tell me what is wrong"

The worried tone in his voice and the true concern in his eyes made the walls in her mind crumble. She began to speak up in a shaky voice. "W-well...today Lila kept saying things and this morning she..." her voice trailed off as she reached for her phone, opening the conversation which had that message and handed it to Damian. The hand used to reach for the phone was the hand that was cupping Marinette's cheek, she inwardly frowned but she watched as Damian read the message.

Damian face was neutral when Marinette first gave him her phone but it quickly changed. She watched as his face went from expressionless to visible anger, though, it looked like he was holding back from revealing anymore emotion. So she looked at his eyes, the eyes were the key to every soul and in his eyes she saw his true emotions. He was absolutely livid. His eyes were pools of rage. "I'll skin that fucking harlot alive" Damian snarled.

He widened his eyes in realisation to what he said and gently put the phone on the coffee table. He turned to Marinette and opened his arms for her. She needed much more than a hug in Damian's opinion, but in Marinette's, Damian was all she needed. She jumped into his arms straight away, burying her face in his chest while letting her tears flow. Seeing her so miserable made his heart break. One of his hands rubbed circles on her back while the other stroked through her hair, he also murmured comforting words into her ear. He'd deal with Rossi another time, right now he needed to focus on Marinette but he'd be damned he'd let Lila get away with hurting her.

Soon, the bluenette's tears turned into quiet, steady breathing. Marinette felt a lot better now, each comforting word from Damian had erased the meaning of each snarky comment from Lila. Anything and everything Lila had sad meant nothing to Marinette anymore, being in Damian's arms was the only thing that mattered.

"Thank you" she whispered, her face still buried in his chest.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Habibti" Marinette hid her blush. Damian hummed to himself, as if he were thinking if something.

"What is it?" She asked, pulling away from the hug.

"Why don't you and I go for a walk? Just the two of us" The bluenette didn't hesitate.

"I'd like that"

~~~

The walk was like a breath of fresh air. Damian took her to a nearby cafe to get some hot cocoa for takeaway and they strolled the streets of Paris. Their saunter lead them passed the Louvre, passed the Seine and ended on the Eiffel Tower, on the highest floor a civilian could go. The two looked over Paris, leaning forward on the banister, the sun setting beautifully. Damian looked at Marinette, she was still staring at the city's silhouette in awe. Without thinking, Damian's hand reached for the ribbon in Marinette's hair, tugging at it slightly to let her hair down. The bluenette squeaked in surprise, the red ribbon once in hair hair was now wrapped around Damian's finger.

Damian didn't think that Marinette could get even more beautiful than she already is but he stood corrected while watching Marinette's hair flow beautifully in the wind. Not only that but the way the sunset's light landed on her, how it reflected in her eyes, made her so bewitching, so captivating. 'God...you can't turn back now Wayne' He collected every piece of confidence he had in him and spoke up. "Angel, can I ask you a question?"

"Well you just did, didn't you?" She giggled as he playfully rolled his eyes at her. "Sure what do you want to ask?" Marinette looked at him, her bluebell eyes seeming more spellbinding then he had ever seen them. He couldn't trust his voice, he would only mess up. He stared at her intensely, his right hand moved to hold her cheek. She didn't pull away, she leaned into his touch while blushing ever so slightly.

'May I kiss you?'

Marinette's eyes widened in surprise, her blush now being much more visible. She looked as if she had heard the question pass through his lips though he hadn't said anything at all. It's almost as if they communicated, telepathically. Marinette nodded, answering the unasked question. Damian slowly pulled her face closer to his, they both closed their eyes as Damian pressed his lips against Marinette's. They were just as soft as he suspected. The bluenette wrapped her arms around Damian's neck, the one on her face was now in her hair and the other was wrapped around Marinette's waist, pulling her closer to his body. The kiss wasn't passionate. It was soft, tranquil and tender. And Marinette liked it. She liked him. No, scratch that. She loved him. And he loved her back.

The two only pulled away when their need for oxygen became greater than the desire for each other. When they did they make eye contact, their eyes both reflected each other's feelings. Love. Marinette stepped closer and snuggled her face into Damian's muscular chest, like how she did earlier but this one felt much more heartfelt, filled with more affection. She hummed, closing her eyes with her arms still wrapped around his neck while his were wrapped around her waist.

"So I guess this is where I ask you on a second date or-" he paused hoping that Marinette would choose the option he was about to give her. "I ask to court you"

She giggled. "I wasn't aware that this is a date but I'm not complaining". She then looked up at his face and smiled. "And I would be much more than happy to court you"

He smiled back. 'Damn her smile is contagious' "So do I have the privilege of being your boyfriend now?" Damian smirked at her.

"Well If that's the case, then I have the honor of being your girlfriend" she hummed.

Hearing that made him feel guilty. He hadn't told her his last name, and she respected that. "Damian Wayne" he mumbled.

She looked slightly confused and tilted her head.

"I don't want to keep secrets from you so I am telling you now" he breathed in. "My name is Damian Wayne. I apologize, I should've told you sooner I-"

Her eyes widened in surprise and understanding. "No need to apologize I understand"

"So this doesn't change anything between us?"

She giggled while she put her head back on his chest. "Why would it?"

Damian let out a sigh of relief. He would've leaned in to kiss her again if he didn't notice an object heading straight for her at incredible speed. His left hand went out to grab it, which he did with ease. Marinette pulled away from the hug to see what Damian had caught. It looked like something from an akumatized villain. He sighed. "I guess it would be best to get out of the villain's way"

She looked at the object in his hand, then back at him. Without thinking, she blurted out "Remember would you said about secrets?"

"What about it?"

She stepped back and muttered a few words then there was a blinding red light, he had to close his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he was face to face with the spotted hero herself. The hair once flowing in the air was now back in the pigtails the hero is seen with all the time. 'Angel is Ladybug, I was right' Though he did have his suspicions, it still surprised him nonetheless. She smiled at him.

"Y-"

She cut him off with a chaste kiss on the lips which lasted longer than she anticipated, though she had to go on her tip toes which Damian found amusing. She also managed to take the object out of his hand. "I promise to explain everything later. I'll meet you back at the hotel when I'm finished, alright?"

"God, you really are an Angel". The blush on her face was very noticeable. She smiled at him before using her yo-yo to bring her to the akumatized victim. He watched as her silhouette jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Once she was out of sight, Damian looked back at the sunset. He chuckled to himself. "I guess when you bumped into me the other day, you gave me some of your Lady Luck".

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg, @kashlyn, @mochegato, @eggadoodle, @walkingthroughonautopilot

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat #maridami #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #lila did a bad

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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champagne problems, ch.5

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Five: Baby: Weird dreams, confrontations, and a yearning moment between two friends. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this chapter is extra ✨tense✨, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: you guys are incredible!!!! i am feeling the love, and honestly it is leaving me speechless!! i am so glad you are enjoying this little story omg!! let me know, message me or comment, if you have any theories as to what will happen next, i’d love to hear it!! anyway, hope you like chapter 5 ✨ also, as promised here is the playlist for this story!! happy listening!

His kiss was gentle at first. Holding your face, one hand cupping each cheek, he pulled you in as close as humanly possible. He was taking his time, revelling in the thrill that was cascading through him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours.

Lips locked with yours, his hands travelled slowly from your face. They moved down your neck and arms until they reached your waist. His fingers dug into your sides briefly causing your lips to part at the shocking sensation. His tongue accepted the invitation and eagerly slid into your mouth.

You trailed your fingers down his back, feeling along his flexed muscles. Your heads rotated to vary pressure as your tongues danced together.

An overwhelming desire rushed through you. Your legs were like jelly. You melted into him, and he willingly held you up with the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Gradually, after what felt like a blissful eternity, the two of you pulled apart. Both your breaths shaky. With your eyes still closed, you pressed your forehead to his and placed the palms of your hands on his chest; feeling his heart racing.

You looked up slowly to meet the hungry hazel gaze of your partner.

With a sharp gasp your eyes darted open. You sat up briskly in your bed, one hand on your chest while the other covered your parted mouth. Fuck. Oh no. No, no, no. That did not just happen.

You tried to shake the weird feeling away but every time you closed your eyes, to try and steady your breathing, you were met by that hazel gaze. His gaze. A lump formed in your throat. Fuck.

Ethan stirred in bed beside you.

“Mhmm babe...” He yawned, grabbing your attention. “Is everything okay?” You let out an inaudible sigh before lying back down beside him.

“I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” You replied quietly. “It was just a dream.”

You felt him nod next to you. He kissed your shoulder, and turned to his other side quickly dozing back off.

You however lay sleepless the rest of the night. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the the kiss on loop. Even though it really was just a dream, it felt so realistic. It was as if you were really kissing him, as if you were really looking into his eyes.

Fuck.

You just had a dream about kissing Spencer. The emotions it stirred inside of you were dangerous to say the least. What the hell did this mean? And more importantly, how the hell are you going to be able to act normally around him now?

The jet landed with a thud. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head to look out onto the grey tarmac.

Emily called early hours of the morning advising that there was a new case. As selfish as it may be, you were quite glad because it meant you could avoid Spencer for just a little longer. Which of course worked until you got on the plane.

The brunette doctor sat across from you; as usual. He watched you closely and it didn't take him long to realise that something was on your mind.

“You okay?” His voice soothing. The warm and comforting sound made it impossible for you not to turn to look at him. A half-smile circled your lips. “All good doctor.” You replied calmly. “Just didn't sleep well.”

He placed his elbows on the table that separated you and smiled. “I thought we were past this whole lying to each other thing.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. Sitting up in your seat, you straightened your shirt, and lifted one hand up as if to take a pledge. “I swear I am telling the truth.”

Spencer smirked and sat back in his chair. “How formal Y/N.”

“It seemed to be the only way to shut you up doctor.” You teased making him chuckle. The glistening look in his eyes was enough for the flashbacks of your dream to once again greet your mind. Your palms began to sweat.

Thankfully, before Spencer could notice the sudden nervousness in your demeanour, Tara sat down next to you. She instantly engaged Spencer in a conversation which meant you could close your eyes for a moment of peace.

Mainly to calm your nerves.

The rest of the journey was luckily uneventful. Spencer’s undivided attention was on his conversation with Tara, and later on the team’s discussion of the case, which meant you managed to get some quick shut-eye before arriving at the destination.

The afternoon was also going smoothly. You tried to act as normal as you could around him. All you really hoped for was that he couldn't sense any tension of off you since that would lead to questions you couldn't answer.

It helped that first and foremost, the two of you were professionals. Both Spencer and you possessed the ability to compartmentalise. Now, the case came first. Which meant that even if you seemed a little standoffish with the brunette doctor, you could just explain you were focused on work.

“God, I’m starving.” Matt exclaimed leaning back in his chair. He glanced at the time and looked between the group. Luke, Tara, and Rossi all nodded in agreement.

“Coffee for me. A big fat coffee.” You replied with a small smile while getting up on your feet. “Anybody else?” Your eyes locked with Spencer’s. He lifted his hand up as his mouth pursed into a shy half-smile. You couldn't help but smile back.

While Matt and Luke took dinner orders from everyone, you slipped out of the room and headed for the precinct kitchenette.

As you reached for the stack of paper cups, a tiny yawn escaped your lips. Yup, the lack of proper sleep was definitely catching up with you. Especially since you were awake now for close to eighteen hours with no end in sight.

“Hey.” JJ appeared in the doorway; breaking you away from your thoughts. You shifted your weight to face her, and smiled. “Hey, I would have gotten you a coffee too.” You said, but the petite blonde shook her head. “Oh no, I just wanted to talk to you alone for a moment.”

You raised a concerned brow. “Is everything okay?”

She hesitated briefly before taking a step towards you. “Spencer told me about your trip to tour venues the other weekend.” Her voice was low; almost as if she was afraid someone would overhear. “He told me about your conversation. How you wanted to propose back then.”

Right. You shouldn't have been surprised he told JJ. They have been friends long before you came in the picture. You also shouldn't have been surprised that she approached you about this. It was only a matter of time.

“Why would you tell him that?” JJ asked, although it was more of a rhetorical question because she didn't give you a chance to respond. “You know how dark that period of his life was, and how hard your breakup was on him. You know that he only ended things to protect you Y/N. Not a day goes by where he doesn't hate himself for that decision even if back then it was the right one.”

A deep sigh escaped her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair before placing her hands on her hips. “I just don't understand why you would tell him that you wanted to take things to the next level after all this time has passed.”

You could feel yourself getting annoyed. Obviously, you were aware that JJ only had Spencer’s best interest at heart, but this pacific attack on you was uncalled for.

“I told him because he deserved to know.” You responded as calmly as you could. “We both moved on JJ, so I don’t-”

“But don't you see that he's going to overthink this now? You’re playing with his head, not to mention his heart.” She cut you off. Ouch. Her words stung. “He is going to constantly wonder what could have been.”

“And you think I don't do that already? Honestly JJ, do you think this is easy for me?” You asked, voice slightly elevated. “I really thought Spencer was the love of my life. I thought he and I we were meant to be.” At this point, tears were forming in the corners of your eyes.

“But he broke my heart and whatever his reasons were I lost a piece of me that day. A piece I never got back. Yet despite the empty feeling inside me, I stayed by his side. He was going through a terrible time and I knew he needed me. So don’t tell me Spencer is going to ponder now, or whatever, because he is not the only one that went through this breakup.”

“I just-” JJ began again but you lifted your hand in-front of you to stop her. “I get that you are looking out for him, but maybe you should stop and think that no-one is looking out for me. Except for Spencer, no-one ever was.” You snapped, and turned away from her.

The petite blonde lingered for a second before walking out. She knew better than to keep pressing on the matter.

You tried to focus on making the coffees; which proved hard as your eyes were glossy with tears and your hands were trembling from the nerves.

Your chest ached. Your head was spinning.

As far as you were aware, the brunette doctor was glad you told him. Was that not the truth? Did he confess something else to JJ? If so, why would he lie to you? These questions circulated your mind, adding to the already existing headache.

You leaned against the cold wall and closed your eyes. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You tried to regulate your hazy breathing in order to calm yourself down.

That’s how Spencer found you.

The hazel-eyed doctor got concerned when you didn't return in a timely manner - it doesn't take that long to make coffee. He went looking for you, and on his search he peeked inside the kitchenette to discover he was right to worry.

“Whoa Y/N, hey. Hey.”

He immediately reached for the pot and put it away before turning back to you. He hastily grabbed your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze to try get a reaction out of you. No luck.

At this point your whole body was shaking. Slowly, you opened your eyes to meet his sympathetic gaze. Teardrops escaped down your cheeks, trailing along black mascara.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Spencer asked, but when you opened your mouth to explain no words came out. All you could do was shake your head.

“It’s okay, hey.” He let go of your hands and wrapped his strong arms around you instead, pulling you close. He placed one palm at the back of your head, encouraging you to recline against his chest, as the other drew soothing circles along your lower back.

“It’s okay.” He whispered again before resting his chin on top of your head. He closed his eyes, basking in the all too familiar smell of your shampoo.

Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered slightly at the feeling of your body pressed against his. And with every second that passed, you sunk deeper into his warmth.

Spencer realised he couldn't remember the last time the two of you were this close. The last time he hugged you like this. He thought he did, but now that you were in his arms he knew he was wrong because the memory didn't feel the same. Although, that didn't seem important right now.

Eventually, your nerves calmed down. Breathing returned to normal, and you were no longer crying. However, if you were being honest, you didn't want the hug to end just yet. You felt peaceful. Safe.

At home.

Perhaps it was because of those feelings you did what you did next. Or perhaps it was because the fatigue that only a good sleep could fix was messing with your thoughts.

You tilted your head upwards, which caused Spencer to open his eyes. His gaze instantly locked with yours. When he noticed the small smile circling your lips, he smiled back.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still in a whisper.

You nodded. “Better now.”

He was going to ask if you wanted to tell him what happened. He was going to ask if there was anything else he could do. He was going to ask, but he found himself frozen and completely lost in your beautiful eyes.

Perhaps it was because of the way he was looking at you. Or because your stomach was jumping inside of your body, exactly like it did in your dream.

You found yourself slowly leaning in, upwards. The pull you felt was almost magnetic. This was wrong on so many levels but it was like the world fell away; for both of you. Spencer matched your pace and leaned down, his heart hammering inside his chest.

His face now inches away from yours. One of his hands was still on your lower back, while the other cupped your cheek. His hot breath hit against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours for any sign to stop what was about to happen, but despite your better judgement you didn’t want to stop.

And just as it was about to happen, just as you were about to kiss the man you were once in love with, a realisation hit you.

You were doing exactly what JJ implied. You were playing with his feelings. If you kissed now, he was definitely going to overthink things. Overthink your relationship, and everything that happened up until this point.

You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't jeopardise your friendship.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered against his lips and pulled away from his embrace. “I am so sorry. That shouldn't have happened.” Nervously, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“No.” Spencer said quietly. “No, I’m sorry. You were feeling vulnerable, I shouldn-” You shook your head. “This is my fault Spencer. I’m the one that leaned in first.” You reiterated.

“I didn't stop you.” Spencer added, placing his hands in his pockets almost as if he was no longer sure what to do with them.

“I have a fiancé.” You whispered. The statement was more of a self-reminder than anything else.

“You have a fiancé.” Spencer repeated, and you detected a familiar sadness in his tone.

Silence. The two of you stood awkwardly looking at one another.

Even though stopping the kiss was the right thing to do, you felt as if somehow you made things worse between you and the hazel-eyed doctor. It broke you a little. Primarily because as you were lost in the moment you realised that there was a chance you possibly still felt something for Spencer.

Something strong.

Oh Baby, what've you done to me? I can't seem to chase you out of my dreams

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked this chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and as always if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @do-yr-research, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26

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curiousconch · 3 years

Text

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 7)

Part 7: Round and around we go

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The attack in McGraw Byrne's offices reveals a deeper conspiracy that runs to the top of the law firm, which Alex pursued head on. But when the dust settles, she is forced to face the music of her own troubled mind.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.1k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of violence, and trauma, language. Reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A week after, New York City

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The gunman panted as he ran through the dark and unfamiliar side streets of New York, the covering on his face not helping alleviate the sense of panic overtaking him.

His current state of mind paled in comparison with how calm he walked into the offices of that freakishly bright law firm.

The task was simple - get the phone and get out.

But when he found himself face to face with the woman who'd sent his life into a whirling clusterfuck, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He missed.

A brute of a man rammed into him right before he took a shot. Who knew corporate slaves can be combative? By then he knew he was fucked. He snatched the phone then ran.

An earlier scope of the building gave him an easy way out, but the shitty maze of the streets of the business district didn't give much of a reprieve.

I fucking hate this city.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, not until he had to stop by the dead end wall in front of him.

Blue and red flashing lights caught him in a daze, his breath heavy, realizing he was boxed in by police officers in an alley.

"Freeze!" one had shouted. "Raise your arms over your head!"

He didn't have a choice. He's not willing to die for his uncle, nor take another sentence in prison. That scumbag wasn't worth it, regardless of how many times that man tried drilling the thought into his head.

I'm tired of this shit anyway. Though I'll miss the perks.

He raised his hands, then felt his knees buckle when someone kicked him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone pulled the ski mask off his head, his face now exposed for everyone to see.

He was the younger, spitting image of Koenig's CEO. Except for those piercing blue eyes.

Now everyone will know, he thought. Poor uncle Peter will be burned to the stakes after he spill every single sordid detail of all the crimes Max was ordered to do.

From that pretty little celebrity in L.A., the poisoned man from Oklahoma, the researchers from Massachusetts, and all of those other victims in between.

Good thing he kept all those souvenirs. He will prove to them that he was just a pawn.

The pawn that was Maximilian Koenig Cornell.

A few days after, Rooftop of McGraw Byrne

Alex took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette between her fingers, standing by the edge of the fancy rooftop lounge. She exhaled a plume of smoke, the friction in her throat giving herself a temporary reprieve from her chaotic state of mind.

By the rest of the world's standards, it should have been a beautiful day. The skies above her was indigo, filled with streaks of orange from the setting sun. The peacefulness of it a far cry from the storm that was brewing inside her.

Success shouldn't feel this way. She was having a hard time basking in her recent victories.

Alex was just named junior partner this morning, after successfully taking Peter Koenig and Sadie McGraw down. Max Cornell, who turned out to be Koenig's nephew slash hitman, had confessed. He revealed who really was pulling the ropes, all in the form of well-kept call logs and text messages.

The backlash of it all reached McGraw Byrne's founding partner. The same form of proof exposed Sadie's hand on the Koenig class action suit, as well as her involvement in tipping off authorities to paint Marcus Sharpe as Aliana's murderer. The intent was to veer suspicion away from Koenig, making thousands of dollars along the way.

Alex had completely unraveled the conspiracy, with the help of Aislinn and Gigi. Beau, surprisingly, was more than participative. But it was obvious for everyone at the firm who led the crackdown, and it didn't take long for recognition to come to pass.

In everyone else's eyes, she emerged the winner.

And now, when all is said and done, there was nothing to escape to.

Alex can no longer disassociate herself from the sight of the gun barrel held by the ghost she tried to forget all these years.

The sound of applause, soured only by Martin Vanderweil's display of pain-in-the-ass arrogance, should have made her want to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Instead, here she was, wallowing with herself to be overcame by old bad habits.

What happened in the library was etched in her mind, clear as day. The memory of that close encounter with death, being brought up to life by the lack of distractions, made her shudder.

Every waking hour was consumed by the man with the haunting blue eyes that meant death. Those same eyes from the past that suffocated her for so long.

A decade spent running away from them, yet they still caught up with her.

She worked so hard not to remember, not to let it bring her down, for it not to be her end game. She's at the top of the fucking career ladder, yet why can't she still have a sense of freedom?

Everything just felt wrong. She felt out of place.

Lost in her frustrations, she didn't hear the whirring of the elevator and the approaching footsteps that followed.

"Thought I'd find you here," Gabe said, stopping inches away from her.

It took everything of her not to swivel and look at him, opting to curse at herself for how her body quickly relaxed by the softness of his voice.

The storm clouding her mind instantly dissipated, leaving her bare. Gabe's presence made the oceans within her stand still, as if awaiting to be stirred.

"Didn't want to be found," she mumbled, closing her lips on the still burning stick of nicotine. Alex struggled to keep her gaze steady at the slowly darkening skyline.

I know. Gabe wanted to say. He knew that finding her here, seeking out the comfort of isolation screamed her desire to be left alone. He had seen her internal turmoil, hiding behind the air of stoicism she projected for everyone else.

That's why he was never more determined to find her. He wanted, no, needed, to be there for her.

Gabe knew he'd been a dick to walk out from her that morning in L.A., right after he admitted what he felt for her.

But there was rarely an opportunity to make it right. Whenever there was, there was no getting through her. No matter how much he tried to reach out, to make her see that he regretted his actions that day, she wouldn't let him in.

He couldn't blame her.

Gabe told himself he'd give her time, to give her space. However, fate had other plans.

He almost lost her that night, and it was a wake up call. When he watched helplessly as Cornell aimed at her, something in him shifted. He's no longer stuck in a limbo questioning who Alex was for him, or why he constantly wanted to be near her, wanting to make everything right.

He was decided to run after her, to stay with her, no matter what. He was done chasing after dreams of the past.

Alex was his future.

"Can't get rid of me easily," he settled on that reply, leaning on the glass railing beside her.

"Really?" she quipped sardonically. "I honestly didn't take you to be the staying type."

That had to sting.

He knew he'd hurt her by leaving, so he deserved that. It wasn't enough to make his resolve waver.

"I am," he insisted. "It just takes me some time to find my footing."

She lifted a hand to him. "Don't go there, Gabe. Just don't - "

"I'm not walking away from you again, Alex," he professed.

She whirled to face him with a look of sullen resignation. "I know."

Deep down, she wanted him too. But not in the fucked-up state she was in. She needed to think, she needed to recover, she needed to get a grip on herself.

But she needed to do it alone.

"I can't deal with us now, it's just.." She sighed. "Everything else that's happened is too overwhelming."

Gabe deflated.

It was the first time he heard her admit defeat. He's gotten used to seeing her fighting every step of the way, that finding her in this state of hopelessness felt alien to him. His chest tightened, hating himself on taking part of what pushed her to breaking point.

"I need to take a step back from everything, Gabe," she said, almost begging. "That includes you."

"What do you mean?"

"Can I to take some time off?" she pleaded, wrapping herself in her own arms. "I have to hit pause for now."

"For how long, Alex?" Gabe's voice was strained. She just made it clear that he wasn't what she needed.

Still he hoped. So he held his breath.

Alex thought quietly for a few moments, before looking back at him in determination. He found a semblance of the Alex he knew.

"A couple of weeks," she answered with a tone of finality.

He didn't want to. But in his heart of hearts, he had to respect her decision. He understood that even the strongest needed to heal. Even the brave Alex Keating.

"I'll arrange it," he relented, closing his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, biting her lower lip before she continued. "Actually, there is one more thing."

"What is it?" Gabe watched intently as she raised her head to look at him, her mouth curved into that familiar signature smirk that he'd grown to chase after.

"Will you wait for me?"

As per her usual modus operandi, Alex took his breath away by her unpredictability. Almost immediately, Gabe wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. He raised his free hand and let his knuckles brush against her cheek.

He smiled softly, a tad afraid that by holding her this close could break her. And yet, the effect she had on him couldn't be stopped from spilling out, as if it was what he wanted to say all along.

"I've waited my whole life for you, so what's a few more weeks?"

Alex beamed at him, relieved. "I knew you'll be up for the challenge."

"Because I care about you, Alex," he whispered.

"I care about you too."

Alex then dared to take it forward.

Before he had the chance to move away, she tiptoed and surprised him with a tender kiss on the cheek.

Gabe wasn't able to react as quickly, the contact catapulting his senses. Just as his mind plunged back to the ground, she was already walking away, the clicking of her black heels syncopating along with the beating drum inside his chest.

His sight followed her until she stood by herself in the employee elevator, her brown-eyed gaze melting him with earnest affection. As the doors shut closed, so did the heart of Gabriel Ricci.

It shut down in anticipation of her return.

Two months later

Mind hazy and craving for Chinese food, Gabe had asked the driver to take a quick detour.

He had just flown from Los Angeles, spending two weeks to assist on a big hotel chain M&A. He got out of LaGuardia at around 10pm, and now his jet lag and empty stomach were taking its toll on him.

The car stopped at the familiar block, and he got out of the vehicle, grabbing his suitcase. He walked the rest of the way, enjoying the craziness of New York City on a Friday night.

For a minute, it reminded him of her.

He heard rumors of her coming back, but HR had been heftily secretive on all things concerning her. With the firm fidgety over Vanderweil's recent harassment lawsuits, he erred on the safe side and didn't poke further.

It didn't take long for him to find Hoi On. Once inside, he greeted the servers in flawless Cantonese, striding straight to the counter.

As he gave his order, the kitchen crew brought out a bag of hunger-inducing takeout box. He was almost tempted to bargain for it instead of waiting for another 20 minutes. Until...

"Order complete for Alex!"

Gabe froze.

His senses were instantly filled by the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla and the echoing beat of heels hitting the floor.

There was no doubt about who was approaching the counter.

He found her standing beside him, the woman he'd missed every single day since he saw her last. The powerhouse junior partner with the easy smile and confident aura.

The woman whose return Gabe eagerly waited for.

"So," Alex began. "I take it tinsel town's fusion of cuisines can't match authentic Brooklyn takeout?" she teased, smiling at him in the same red dress she wore the first time she walked into his office.

He looked down over her - closely looking at the tiny changes in her features. Regardless, she looked more beautiful, taking note of the longer, loose tendrils of brunette hair framing her face.

"No," Gabe shook his head in amazement, his lips breaking into a lopsided grin. "Everything else couldn't compare."

She chuckled. The radiance of her laughter showed Gabe she was really back, and that she was finally ready.

"I bet they couldn't," she winked.

In an instant, Gabe's heart awoke from its slumber. It's as if it knew that this time, the wait was over.

The chase has come full circle.

Author's Notes: This may be the end of this series, but Alex & Gabe will return.

How did you find it? Let me see in your comments/reblogs! Thank you! 💖

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

“What the fuck is this bullshit! Are you sure?” Chat Noir exclaimed loudly from his perch across the street from the hotel.

“Just telling you what I see, dude. There’s no Nightwing in that room.” Carapace reported with very little sympathy from his position across the street from the hotel on the other side from Ladybug and Chat Noir. “And I’m only seeing four heat signatures so I don’t think I’m just missing him. It looks like the big Bat, the little bat, and the middle bats. Basically, all the bats that were in town except Nightwing.”

“Wow! That is totally like a fuck you directly to Chat.” Rena Rouge laughed, turning to face toward Chat despite not having a direct line of sight to him.

“That matches with what the front desk staff said.” Bee confirmed as she examined her nails. The roof she was on, a few blocks from the hotel in a different direction, had very little light to help with the examination, but she was determined not to let such little details prevent her from making sure she looked immaculate. She had standards damn it. “They only saw four men checking in.”

“And you’re just telling us this now why?” Rena Rouge inquired exasperated. Even with the distance between her position a few blocks away in a separate direction from everyone else, the roll of her eyes could be felt by everyone.

“Uh, because they just reported it? Plus, there is no way to know if that was accurate. They could have been trying to sneak the other one in to surprise us.” Bee responded as though anyone who didn’t understand that without her saying it was an utter idiot.

“Sorry, Chaton. Guess there’s no kissing tonight for you.” Ladybug smirked at him.

Chat looked at her with a pout trying to hide the amused glint in his eyes. “And what about your man? How are you planning on kissing him anyway? Even once you get past that atrocity of a mask, he’s like two of you on top of each other.”

“I am not that much shorter than him!” Ladybug declared indignantly, pouting her lips at him.

“He’s not too far off. That man is huge and you are… compact.” Rena tried to offer kindly but the sardonic grin on her face was evident in her voice.

“Sounds like that puts her at the perfect height to make him really happy.” Bee smirked wickedly.

“Bee!! That is absolutely not something I want to discuss right now… or ever. We are never having that conversation.” Ladybug exclaimed trying to cool down her burning cheeks. She had a hard enough time focusing when just thinking about caressing his face or running her fingers through his hair or… or kissing his perfect, luscious, inviting lips… Where were they again? “Can we please focus on the issue at hand before they scatter and announce their presence to Hawkmoth?” She wasn’t sure if she was talking more to the team or to herself.

“Just trying to help,” Bee shrugged as though everyone listening didn’t know that was a complete lie.

“Right… so the first order of business before we attack them is you reacting to that mask, right?” Chat asked with a wide childlike grin, already anticipating the carnage.

“We’re not going to attack them. We are going to politely inform them that their services are not required and kindly return to their own territory.” Ladybug corrected him, trying to get the team to focus on the mission.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck off’ in the politest terms possible.” Chat dismissed her comment.

“No need to be polite about it,” Bee cut in.

“But, first order of business, right?” Chat continued barely restraining himself from bouncing back and forth on his toes.

“Can we focus on the task at hand, please?” Ladybug muttered. “I want to be ready to stop them before Hawkmoth sees the Batfamily are in Paris and sends akumas for all of them.”

“So how are you planning on handling this? Good cop, bad cop?” Rena asked.

“How about strict but polite cops?” Ladybug offered instead.

“Boo,” Carapace said over the coms.

“No,” Chat responded quickly and a bit louder than necessary. “I want to be bad cop. They left Nightwing at home. They deserve it.”

“You just want an excuse to be a vindictive dick to someone.” Ladybug rolled her eyes at him.

“And?” Chat asked flatly.

“And we are fucking professionals and we will act like it.” She said. Chat gave her kitty eyes. She grunted and rolled her eyes, “Damn it. Fine. Bad cop, disappointed in your life choices cop. But they haven’t done anything to deserve us being assholes to them yet so reign it in unless things get hostile.”

“No, don’t reign it in. They need to know they are not welcome here.” Bee advised sharply.

“We can make that clear without creating enemies. If we push too hard, they won’t back off, they’ll push back and although we can take them, I really do not want to deal with the international fallout of permanently injuring the bats.”

“You know, you wouldn’t have to permanently injure them.” Carapace pointed out.

“No, no, I’m going to permanently injure them.” Ladybug said overdramatically. She turned toward the hotel and let out a sigh. “I’m trying to be strategic with this. So far, what they know of us is we worked with Constantine and we didn’t call them in to help. That and breaking into their Batcave are the only things they know about us. That’s it. It is natural to want more information. I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt. They might be assholes but I try not to be.”

“Since when?” Rena snarked.

“Fuck you,” Ladybug quipped back.

“Ugh, fine, but they are going to disguise their intentions behind innocuous questions and innuendos. Don’t hold back once they go there. Call that shit out. They are trying to get enough information so they can take over and we are well aware. They’re not that smart and we’re not that dumb. Just because we’re pretty doesn’t mean we’re stupid. They need to know it is in Paris’ best interests if they leave and quickly.” Bee stated flatly.

“Aww. You think we’re pretty?” Rena responded batting her eyes unseen.

“No, but I’m pretty enough to bring up the average,” Bee responded with a smirk.

Before a snark war could start, Ladybug interceded. “I’m aware Bee. I won’t say anything more than is available on the Ladyblog.”

“Oh damn!” Carapace swore over the coms. They could hear the wince in his voice. “That had to hurt.”

“What happened?” Ladybug demanded settling into a defensive posture.

“Your man just proved Edna Mode right using Robin as an example.” Carapace chuckled.

“Trust issues.” Bee said like a gameshow host introducing a prize.

Ladybug grimaced thinking about Robin’s costume. “Speaking of flashy and attention seeking, Rena, have you figured out what your distraction is going to be?”

“I have a few ideas. Any requests? You want big and flashy or subtle? Maybe mess with their heads and make them paranoid?”

“I want flashy. You wouldn’t do it with that last akuma. Give me this. Plus Batman is known for his dramatic entrances, but he’s on our turf now and I want to show them what dramatic really means.” Chat pouted at Ladybug’s unimpressed look.

“You were saying something about professionalism, Bug?” Bee’s voice came back.

“Are you suggesting petty grudges aren’t professional?” Carapace responded. “Because, I’m pretty sure that is the business model for most major companies.”

Ladybug lowered her head and shook it letting out a long, strained breath before she reacted, “You heard the man, Rena.”

“Flashy with a hint of fuck you, it is.” Rena confirmed with a nod.

“Movement in the room. It looks like they’re making their move.” Carapace reported.

Ladybug straightened immediately. The news rippled through the team like a flipped switch. Their relaxed postures and jovial comments were left behind in favor of vigilance. “Okay team, it’s starting. Carapace get into position. Rena, you got the distraction ready?”

“Know exactly what to do, Ladybug.” Rena confirmed.

“Perfect. Everybody in position?” Ladybug asked.

Affirmatives rang out from the three. “And remember LB, this isn’t about them, it’s about Paris. They don’t need to be happy with the results, they just need to leave.” Chat reminded her.

“Right. Understood.” She looked down and took a deep breath bracing herself for what was about to come. She rolled her shoulders back and stretched her head from side to side. She knew she could make them leave easily but she needed to do more than that. She needed to make them understand why they needed to stay away and agree to do so. Barring understanding, she needed to make them fear coming back, which was not a direction she wanted to go, which meant she really needed to make them listen. All while Jason was there, looking at her.

She was not looking forward to seeing him again. No, that was a lie. She was very much looking forward to seeing him again, just not today, not like this. She didn’t want to have to manipulate him. She didn’t want to lie to him. That’s how they got in this situation in the first place, because she had the stupid, overwhelming urge to be honest with him, to let him in. But she wasn’t in a place where she got to do that. Letting people in meant making them a part of the fight. It made them vulnerable and wrecked their lives. She tried to contain the damage to mainly her and a bit to Adrien, but everyone who joined suffered. And the thought of causing him that much pain or having to fight an akumatized Jason…

Ladybug looked back up toward the roof across the street with a renewed determination, her gaze steely and her lips set. She waited until the last of the Bats had arrived on the roof before whispering into the coms, “Rena, you’re on.”

<><><><><>

Red Hood landed on the roof last, bringing up the rear for the group. He looked out over the city willing himself to feel which direction he should go to find his Pixie Pop. He was focused intently on nothing in particular when he felt someone slap his arm. He whipped his head around to see Red Robin staring across the roof dumbfounded. He followed his line of sight and saw an odd looking fox sitting next to some pots on the other side of the roof. After a few moments Red Robin finally got his voice back and decided to use it to make a brilliantly insightful observation. “There’s a fox… on the roof.”

“How did a fox get up here? What kind of irresponsible hotel is this?” Robin demanded.

The fox hissed at him like she was personally insulted and ran toward them, rounding the edge of the pool so closely, she just barely missed falling in. Robin’s breath caught and he automatically reached in the direction of the fox, ready to rescue her should she fall into the pool. The fox continued on as though she hadn’t almost fallen in the water, increasing her speed as she ran between Robin and Red Robin toward the edge of the roof. Robin whirled around and jutted forward to grab the fox before she got hurt or fell off the roof. But the fox seemed to have other ideas, speeding up even faster and racing toward the edge of the roof before jumping off.

Robin ran to the edge to see if the fox might have landed on a balcony, but fell back, landing hard on the ground when a cloud of bats flew up into the sky at a breakneck speed from the same spot the fox had jumped. Red Robin flinched back from the bats’ sudden appearance but Batman just narrowed his eyes at them. Red Hood cocked his head to the side watching the bat-like things flying around above them before taking off away from the hotel. “What the actual fucking fuck was that!” Red Hood exclaimed.

Ladybug and Chat landed on the roof behind the bats and watched them for a few moments. They turned to each other with smug smiles. No matter what else happened that night, they were always going to remember the chaos they had caused the bats. They were counting that as their first win. They turned back toward the bats and schooled their expressions. Ladybug gave them a few moments to notice them before she stage whispered to Chat, “How long do you think it will take them to notice us?”

“Super unimpressed right now.” Chat shook his head in disappointment, leaning casually on his baton.

The bats whipped around in unison. Batman and Robin refused to show the shock they felt. Instead, Batman stared intently at them while Robin glared at them. Red Robin looked back and forth between the Parisian heroes and the space where the bats had been flying, his face scrunching in confusion as if trying to figure something out. Red Hood however focused entirely on Ladybug, squinting at her as if trying to piece something together that refused to fit, not that anyone could see it under the mask.

Ladybug and Chat jumped down off the ledge but stayed on their side of the roof, allowing the pool to mark the division between the two groups, acting as a buffer between them, easy enough to get around should they need to, but demarcating the sides. Ladybug looked between the vigilantes, her gaze lingering a bit longer than it should on Red Hood. That hurt more than she expected, to see him but not talk to him, not really, not be able to acknowledge him or see what he was thinking. Because he couldn’t know it was her and even if he did, he couldn’t stay. She moved her gaze back to Batman with a strained smile, trying to calm her erratic heart. “Hello. Welcome to Paris. My name is Ladybug. This is Chat Noir.” Ladybug introduced them politely but with an edge to her voice.

“Is there anything we can help you with before you leave?” Chat asked innocently. Ladybug pressed her lips together in annoyance but kept her eyes on the bats. Not as bad as it could be.

“Good evening Ladybug, Chat Noir. I’m Batman. This is Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood. We would like to discuss the situation here in Paris with you.”

“You’re missing your whole team. Where’s the other one?” Chat asked nonchalantly. Ladybug fought rolling her eyes. To be fair, Chat had warned her he was going to be a petty dick, she just was expecting a bit more of a focused dickishness. They were going up against Batman. They needed to focus, to project confidence and control.

“Really, dude?” Carapace asked through the coms.

“Where’s your other one? Where is the one that makes portals?” Red Hood asked not even attempting to mask the interest in his voice, and that hurt even more.

“And breaks into secret bases?” Red Robin grumbled loudly.

“She has been exposed thanks to you, Redwood. And the rule of the miraculous is once your identity is exposed you can no longer wield a miraculous.” Ladybug responded. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. It was longstanding rule. It was heavily ignored, but it was still the rule. It was the jaywalking of the miraculous rules; there but nobody ever acknowledged it unless the situation was really dangerous. She lowered her eyes in guilt. He hadn’t made her tell him. She had done that. It wasn’t his fault she had divulged their secret. She weighed letting him believe it was his fault so he would back off versus the guilt he would carry with him. She couldn’t let him carry that with him because of her. “She made her choice.”

“So you just, what? Kicked her to the curb?” Red Hood demanded indignant on behalf of the woman whose name he didn’t even know. How dare they use her and throw her away like that! She had risked going into a potential enemy’s base for them and they just throw her out like she was nothing. She lifted her eyes to him and studied him closer. His face was obscured tragically but his body was tense, angry. Not a good condition for Paris.

“Forget about the scapegrace.” Robin growled breaking their link. “Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood glared at him but Ladybug cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in concentration, studying Robin, looking for something in his face. When she didn’t see what she was looking for, she spoke up, “Chat, you speak English better than I do, was that an insult? That sounded like an insult, but I can’t tell.” Chat shrugged and gave her a non-committal grunt. She hummed in response and flashed an overly wide model smile Adrien used on the red carpet with overly pushy reporters, “I’m going to take that a compliment. Thank you for your kind words. I will let her know you send your well wishes and admiration.”

Robin growled at her. Red Robin looked down to hide the smirk that tried to push through and break his serious expression. Looking back up at the heroes, he started firing off his questions to hide his smile, “So she was using a miraculous. Which one was she using? Are you using a miraculous? Is that what your villain is using as well? How many miraculous are in play right now? How many do you have? How did you know we were here?”

“That’s a lot of questions for people who aren’t welcome here and won’t be here much longer.” Chat answered sharply.

“Chat…” Ladybug said warningly. “Polite, remember?”

“That was polite.” Chat objected. She gave him a warning look. “This is our territory they invaded and our villain they were just about to offer their services to.”

“Now you guys are concerned about boundaries?” Red Robin deadpanned.

“We came here to find out more about the situation here.” Batman stated loudly bringing the attention back to him. “We were only recently made aware there was a situation and we would like to learn more about what is going on.”

“I’m sure you would, gothboy,” Bee growled over the coms.

Ladybug looked down to hide her smile. Getting her focus back, she asked, “And you needed almost your entire team to ask a few questions?”

“We weren’t sure of your receptiveness to visitors. We wanted to be able to protect ourselves in case you attacked.” Batman stated logically.

“Reasonable.” She nodded absentmindedly. “Better to be prepared than caught unaware. Although, it’s cute that you think you would stand a chance even with your whole team.” Ladybug said confidently. She wasn’t inviting a discussion on this and she wasn’t threatening them. She was stating a fact, one they should be aware of. Okay, maybe she was a bit more condescending than she had to be. But the bats had to know, they were not the power players in this group. The miraculous team were.

“You presumptuous, little feist. You have no idea what we are capable of, what we’ve done.” Robin growled. Batman’s hand on his shoulder cut his lecture short.

“Oh Sweetie, we are well aware of what you are capable, of what you have done.” She responded lowly, fixing him with a dark glare that had Robin faltering and Red Robin gulping. “It’s why we’ve made a point of keeping you away from this situation. You are the ones who don’t know of what we are capable.” A thunderclap sounded in the sky as though to accentuate her point.

Chat pursed his lips so hard to keep himself from laughing that the pink could no longer be seen. He was going to buy a drink for Alya after that.

A tense silence fell over the rooftop until Batman finally broke the tension. “You are correct, we do not know what you are capable of or what the nature of the situation here is. Could you give us a bit more information? We just want to see if there is anything we could do to help.”

“And not to take over because you think you can do better?” Ladybug asked with a raised brow.

“Clearly we could do better. You’ve been fighting the same villain for 5 years.” Robin scoffed at them.

“Robin!” Batman admonished him.

“Ignore him. He’s being a jealous little prick. He is physically incapable of being anything else.” Red Hood implored.

“When’s the last time you fought half a million enemies at the same time, little one? And defeated all of them?” Ladybug asked throwing out the comment on his age and size knowing he would take it as a slight. “Because that was last week for us. One million was the week before. Not particularly impressive, I know, but it’s been a slow month.”

“Also, how’s the Penguin doing? You’ve been fighting him for over a decade now, right? You can’t even stop a fucking flightless, cold water bird.” Chat scoffed.

“You realize he isn’t an actual bird, right?” Red Robin asked wryly.

“Wait, What!? I have been sorely misinformed.” Chat gasped dramatically and brought his hand to his chest. “I completely take it back. It’s much less unimpressive that you’ve been fighting with billions of dollars of support and technology against a single person with no super powers for a decade.” He said dryly.

“Honestly would have been more impressive if it had been an actual bird. Significantly cooler too.” Carapace over the coms.

“We’re not here to fight.” Batman said calmly.

“Could have fooled me,” Chat grumbled.

“Probably, doesn’t seem like it’s too hard to do.” Robin scoffed.

“Oh, that little… next time I’m coming too. Give me just 5 minutes with that little gremlin.” Bee growled through the coms.

Ladybug crooked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, “Yeah, non-hostile is definitely the vibe we’re getting from you.”

Red Hood held out his hands trying to placate them, “We found out about the situation from the other woman and we want to help. She said things were bad. She said you needed help.”

“That seems highly unlikely,” Carapace scoffed.

“What the hell did you say back there?” Rena asked skeptically.

“She told you we needed help? She said she wanted you to intervene, Redwood?” Ladybug questioned him incredulity in her voice.

Red Hood furrowed his brows and huffed, “Red Hood.”

“What?”

“It’s Red Hood, not Red Wood.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion, “I meant Redwood like the tree? You know, the… the tree…” she motioned indicating something tall. “Is that not the word for those really big trees in America? Redwoods?” She asked Chat uncertain.

Chat looked at her wide-eyed, “Did you… did you make his name into a pun?”

She looked back at him horrified, “No! Why would you… oh, yeah, I see it now. Shit.” She looked over to Chat with desperation in her eyes. “That nickname never happened. We all forget that happened and we never mention it again.”

“No, no. That’s the only way we are referring to him from now on. I’m spreading the word.” Chat grinned at her.

“Word is spread, dude.” Carapace responded back. “He is now dubbed Red Wood the Dancer.”

“How’s that professionalism looking right about now, Bug?” Bee asked with amusement clear in her voice.

“I hate you,” the ‘all’ went unspoken but everyone on her team heard it.

“You know I’m still here, right?” Red Hood spoke up.

“Yeah, but your opinion of what we call you doesn’t matter.” Chat shrugged.

Ladybug let out a long suffering sigh, looking back to Red Hood to continue the conversation. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut, “And could you not wear that thing while you are talking. It’s extremely distracting. Who designed that for you and what dishonor did you inflict upon them and their ancestors to cause them to punish you with it, and thereby the rest of us?”

“I… this helmet serves a purpose.” Red Hood defended himself.

“To terrorize your opponents?” She asked skeptically.

“That’s part of it.” Red Hood confirmed.

“Mission accomplished, but not the way you intended, I think.” She said narrowing her eyes at him. “Seriously, it’s like looking at an elementary school play about Hellboy.”

Red Hood was left gaping, grasping for words. “Disappointed. You could have done better, Dudette.” Carapace said through the coms.

“I expect a follow up to that next time you see him,” Rena added.

“I changed my mind. I think I’m warming up to them.” Red Robin grinned.

Red Hood glared at Red Robin, “Back to the original question, no. She said Constantine was helping. She said people were suffering, children were suffering. I want to help end that. We just want to help.”

Robin shot a condescending grin at them, “Of course if you want to keep allowing the people of Paris to suffer because you’re too proud to accept help you so desperately need, yet too incompetent to end it on your own…”

“Excuse me? What! Oh no, I was totally wrong about him. Go for it. Take him down, Dudette.” Carapace growled.

“So to be clear, she said she was already getting help and you heard her tell Constantine you weren’t supposed to know about the situation let alone welcome in Paris and you came anyway.” She stared them down, letting her words sink in. “You need to leave now. You can’t be here. Leave in the morning or we will force you.” Ladybug says grimly.

Robin glowering at her. “As if someone like you could”

“Without breaking a sweat, Sweetie. The warning is purely an attempt to keep things friendly. And with all due respect…”

“Which isn’t much,” rang out from all four members of team at the same time.

“…I assure you, if we have to remove you, things will be considerably less friendly and you won’t even know what hit you.” Ladybug stated coldly.

“You contemptible, duplicitous, mendacious, cretinous, Jezebel!” Robin raged.

“Robin, if you do not shut your fucking mouth right now,” Red Hood growled as he stalked toward him only held back by Red Robin, “I will personally toss you right the fuck after that fucking fox without your grappling hook.”

“You might want to apologize, Robin, or my arm might give out and not be able to hold him back anymore.” Red Robin hissed.

“Boys!” Batman thundered. “We are on a mission.”

Ladybug crooked her head to the side again, “I know you haven’t been doing this very long so a piece of advice for you; I understood very little of what you said. As a result, I am not nearly as offended as you wanted me to be. Look, I understand that Pompous Asshole is the only language you speak, but it may enhance your effectiveness if you were to work on bettering yourself in the communications area. It’s hard to intimidate someone if they have no idea what you are saying.”

Robin turned red at the suggestion he was inferior in any area, especially intimidation. He was to be feared not belittled. He had been trained as such since he was born. “See, I turned you redder than my suit solely using words you understood.”

Red Robin turned slightly toward Red hood with a huge grin and said quietly, “I’m definitely warming up to them.”

“Not to mention you are letting your anger undermine your stated purpose for being here. To make it clearer to you, you are messing it up for your team because you are incapable of controlling your emotions, so interested in making us feel like failures that you are causing your entire team to become one.” Ladybug broke it down sternly but softly, like she was speaking to a child, which she was. Despite what he thought of himself, he was a child.

Robin tensed to jump at them, reaching for his sword but stopped when Batman placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard giving him a hard stare. “We are not suggesting you haven’t been doing a good job.” Batman stated. Robin scoffed. “We did not come to fight, I promise.”

“Wise move, but I think not everyone on your team got the memo.” Ladybug said coolly.

“It’s a shame he doesn’t have parents to teach him manners.” Chat stated casually as though he was thinking out loud. “Or maybe they’re more like mine, too invested in their own interests to actually invest in parenting their kids.” He turned a sharp gaze back to Batman, “Anyway, I digress, you were saying something?”

Red Robin grinned at the ground again as Red Hood interceded, attempting to change the topic. “We are all here to get more information and if you aren’t willing to give that then… then that’s fine. Can I just speak with the other woman, please?”

“Hood…” Batman warned.

“Ooo, LB. He’s got it bad.” Rena smiled.

“I assure you, you won’t get a different answer from her.” Ladybug responded plainly, forcing her eyes to stay sharp instead of softening like they wanted to do. He was not playing fair and he didn’t even know it. He was messing with her heart making it speed up and stop and skip beats all at the same time. It wasn’t fair.

“That’s fine. I just want to talk with her.” Red Hood asked, a touch of desperation leaking through his words.

“I think she has said quite enough talking already. She won’t be doing any more, not with you, not anytime soon.” Ladybug responded harshly. She still felt guilty for letting herself expose them to him like she had and needed to remind herself.

“What did you do to her?” Red Hood asked warily.

“She’s fine. We don’t harm our allies.” Ladybug said pointedly throwing a glare over toward Batman. “She does not want you here right now either.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Red Hood growled at her.

“Right now I do. She agrees the situation is too dangerous to have the Justice League here. It’s too dangerous for her and for you to be here until we have ended the threat.”

Red Hood desperately looking for some way to recover this. He couldn’t go back without getting some clue about her, without getting closer. He needed a chance, just one chance to get closer. “Cat guy, you going to let her speak for you?” Red Hood tried instead.

“Oooh, that was the wrong move.” Rena winced.

“Dude’s desperate give him a break. He’s looking for anyone who’ll give him a different answer.” Carapace offered weakly. He was rooting for him and willing to give him a break on one desperate, stupid attempt.

“Me? Yeah, that’s the way it works. She does the talking, I do the destroying.” Chat glared back at him then whispered “Black Storm” causing a black ball of condensed misfortune to appear between his hands. “Unless you’d really like me to take over…” he said rolling the ball between his hands like a magician’s floating ball.

“We are trying to help you dolt. We have experience and training, which you are sorely in need of.” Robin shouted at them.

“And excellent control over your emotions clearly. Tell me class why is that combination, NOT a benefit in this instance? Anyone? Anyone at all? Bueller? Bueller?” Chat taunted him.

“Listen here, you and your entire team, including that cat thieving hussy…” before Robin could finish the sentence Red Hood yelled, “Can you shut your trap for 3 seconds so we can have a conversation. We have a mission here and you are blowing it.”

A realization suddenly hit Chat, he pointed at Robin and looked at Ladybug wide eyed, “Oh it was his cat.” He turned back to Robin, “it was your cat. That explains the…” motions towards him and the hostility rolling off him in waves.

“You stole a cat?” Rena asked.

“Can’t wait to hear that story.” Carapace grinned.

“Interesting,” Bee said thoughtfully.

“That’s it. Taking the com out now. If there is anything important, announce it.” Ladybug said quietly pulling out her com.

“Sorry about that. Cats just really, really like her.” Chat motioned toward Ladybug, “I can attest. But we returned him to you little man, so… all good, right?” Robin glared at him and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Why don’t you tell us why it is a bad idea?” Batman interceded, attempting to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. It had not escaped his notice that they had been speaking for a while now and had yet to get any information on the situation in Paris. “We would appreciate more information on the situation.”

Chat was done with this conversation, with the false promises, the hostilities, and the disrespect. “Huh, where did all that confidence and bravado go? Just a second ago I swear I heard something about knowing how to handle the situation better than us because we were so utterly, helplessly incompetent and yet here you are asking us what the situation is and for advice on how to handle it. Well here’s the advice; Get Out. Your interference will make Bialya look like a success.” Chat growled. Ladybug put a hand on his arm again warning him to back down on the hostility.

“Bialya was… an unfortunate event.” Batman conceded.

“That is putting it mildly. But the Justice League always knows better, right?” Chat hissed.

“Chat! Robin insinuated the incompetence not Batman. Batman is asking why we think it is a bad idea for them to stay and we want them to understand that, remember?” Ladybug offered attempting to bring down the hostility and suspicion on both sides. She was still well aware of Batman’s true intentions and he needed to be called on it, but they were edging to pushing too hard.”

“We just came to find out what is going on. Offer assistance if you needed it. NOT take over.” Red Robin repeated, looking directly at Ladybug. Chat was looking for a fight, but Ladybug appeared willing to talk. She was willing to work with them, at least a little. She was the one they needed to focus on.

Chat scoffed but Ladybug tightened her grip on his arm stopping him from continuing, “We appreciate the offer but we will kindly have to decline it. We have considered the options, researched the players, and we have decided at this point in time having members of the Justice League, or affiliated organizations, in Paris is too dangerous for us and for Paris.” Ladybug stated diplomatically, ignoring what she was sure were angry cries coming over the com in Chat’s ear about her being too nice.

“We would like to see if there is room for us to offer assistance. We would be negligent if we just took your word for it.” Batman said sternly not giving an inch.

“Already doubting our word and trying to force your way into the situation I see.” Ladybug quirked a brow but kept her voice light. “You can get the information you seek from any of the many online resources available.”

“Those aren’t available outside of Paris.” Red Robin pointed out.

“Well then I suggest you download the contents of the sites before you leave in the morning. You could also call up business people here to discuss the situation under the guise of investigating whether adding a Paris branch to… a company,” she just stopped herself from exposing their identities. Even if she was confident there were no cameras up here, it was still good practice. “…would be dangerous. Not to mention the files in your possession that we copied. They contain more than enough information to give you the insight you desire.” She suggested well aware of the fact that even with decryption software working full force, they would not be able to decipher the Grimoire texts. “There are options other than being here and exposing yourself to our villain.

“The abridged version is we have a villain that takes advantage of people’s negative emotions to possess them. It allows him to use that person’s knowledge, combined with his own against us. As a result, having people in Paris who are experts in combat or people who would go to any length to find out our identities is extremely dangerous to us and could tip the balance in Hawkmoth’s favor. That’s a double strike for you.”

“We don’t need to know your identities. We can help you without knowing them.” Red Robin assured them.

Ladybug cocked her head to the side, her voice dripping in skepticism. “Can you honestly say none of you would try to figure out our identities and how to defeat us? That you don’t have files on everyone you work with, on how to take them down, their weaknesses, where to hit to have the strongest impact, including discovering their identities with or without their permission?” Thank you to Constantine for that little tidbit. “Our identities are secret by necessity. We don’t even know each other’s identities,” a small lie, but a necessary one. It still made her uncomfortable to say it, she curled her fingers and straightened them back out in response to the uncomfortable feeling. “Imagine that information in the hands of Hawkmoth.”

“Like we would let someone take it.” Robin sneered at them.

“Like you could control it.” Chat sneered right back at him.

“Regardless of intent or actual physical possession of the files, as I mentioned before, our villain takes advantage of people’s emotions to turn them into supervillains with their own superpowers. He takes over their minds. Any negative emotion makes you susceptible. Have you ever felt sad? Mad? Frustrated? Guilty? Desperate? Then you’re susceptible. Tell me who in the Justice League would be immune to that?” Ladybug looked them in the eyes, refusing to back down or soften this blow.

“I’ve seen the moon destroyed and the world annihilated. We’ve seen the city flooded and a super volcano half the size of the city bubbling away instead of our suburbs. We’ve seen the very air turned into sulfer dioxide. Have you ever heard children screeching in more pain than any human should ever have to experience? Have you heard hundreds at the same time? Have you had to listen to the inhuman sounds they make? We have and we relive it every single night. Have you had to dig through your partners’ blood to find their miraculous after watching them die in front of you, get beheaded next to you, in order to finish the fight? He has.” She said gesturing toward Chat. “Those were people with newly acquired powers but no training. Imagine what would happen if one of the Justice League became akumatized, familiarity with how to wield powers and strategic training with new and unlimited power… It was not a risk we were willing to take.”

Red Hood stared in horror. That was why his Pixie Pop was so angry at the gala when she thought Constantine was messing around and wasting time, because that is what she had to deal with and any delay meant the people of Paris had to deal with more of it. That was what she was so desperate to stop, Hell on Earth, constant agony. And every additional second they had to bear it was torture.

Red Robin stared dazed at her for a few moments but then narrowed his eyes realizing an inconsistency in her story, “The city looks amazingly unharmed, considering all you claim to have seen.”

“That’s my power. I fix miraculous related damage.” Ladybug responded tiredly.

“Convenient” Robin quipped.

“Not nearly as convenient as preventing it from happening in the first place, I assure you. The cure fixes the physical damage but it doesn’t fix the psychological damage done. It doesn’t take away the memories. Everyone remembers what happened to them and to the ones they love.” She turned to Batman with soft eyes, “I understand that you want to get as much information as humanly possible so you can feel like you have some control over this situation but you don’t. You won’t. You can’t. The help that would be most valuable to the city of Paris is if you could convince Bruce Wayne to send fleets of therapists. I understand you have a unique relationship with him.”

Batman stared silently, letting the description settle in. If what they were saying was true, then the situation was worse than he had anticipated. They were handling it but heroes had died. She was right that therapists would also be advantageous, not only for the citizens of Paris but for the heroes as well. It was a miracle they hadn’t had anyone break from the stress yet. If anything, it solidified his resolve to get to know everything he could about the situation so they could step in when one of the heroes inevitably did succumb to the pressure.

“We could help in other ways. We could offer support from a distance. We could help, we just need to know more about the miraculous and how they work, what their strengths and weaknesses are. We can work together.” Red Robin offered.

“Is that what you would do? Made a deal with a group that has a history of betrayal and violence towards allies? We know Batman would and has. Would you? And trust them to keep their word? Give them all the secrets and insights on how to undermine us or neutralize us? Trust them to stay out of Paris and not ‘know better than us how to handle it’? Not get us to trust you so you could find out more about the miraculous and take it so you could keep it better protected?” Ladybug asked in a dubious tone.

Batman stayed silent in response to the obvious suggestion. Not denying it. Red Hood and Red Robin shot Batman glares from the corner of their eyes, not wanting to make it completely obvious that she had deduced the plan they had been arguing over earlier.

Ladybug took note of their silence and hummed in response. “I thought so. It sounds like we made the correct choice after all.”

“No, please. It sounds like you have a lot of issues with B here. That’s fine, I understand. I do too. Let me stay and help.” Red Hood took off his mask revealing his face, no domino mask to preserve any semblance of secrecy. He wanted to lay everything out in the open. He moved closer to Ladybug and Chat until he was halfway between them and his family. He needed them to see how earnestly he meant his words. Ladybug’s breath hitched looking into his eyes shining with sincerity as he plead with them. She wanted to look over to his family to see how they were reacting but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Red Hood’s.

“I can act as intermediary, support, nothing more. B and his team stay out of the city. Justice League stays out of the city. And I help train you and help you track down your villain. I’m a damn good detective. I can help.” Red Robin stared at him incredulously and Robin glared at him. Batman’s look was indecipherable.

He started to say something but is interrupted by sound of “Akumas incoming, multiple” coming from the areas of Chat’s baton and Ladybug’s cord around her waist.

“Dammit,” Ladybug yelled. “5 minutes! 5 fucking minutes! And honestly it could probably be any of them.” She pulled a familiar set of glasses out of her yoyo and threw them to Chat. “It's time for you to leave. Longg, Tikki, Unify.” She commanded as the necklace she was wearing glowed and she was washed in a golden light causing her suit, mask, and hair to change transforming into Dragon Bug.

Chat grabbed the glasses out of the air without looking, keeping his glare settled on the Batfamily. “Looks like you managed to endanger all of Paris in all of 5 minutes. Congratulations, you’ve surpassed our already low expectations for you.” Chat sneered at them putting the glasses on and yelling “Plaag, Kaalki, Unify!” allowing a teal light to wash over him and change his suit, mask, and hair as well transforming him into Cheval Noir.

“Wait, what is an akuma?” Red Robin asked in defensive stance ready to attack whatever it was coming at them.

“It’s what turns you into unstoppable monsters. It’s why we didn’t want you here.” Ladybug snapped. “How long do we have?” Ladybug yelled searching the sky around them. The sound of “Maybe two minutes, if you’re lucky.” came from her waist. She nodded and focused on the pool.

There are many advantages to becoming an adult. Suddenly a person can participate in the government, vote, drink, buy a house, get married… But for Marinette and Adrien, the most significant advantage was they could expand their existing powers and unlock new powers. The moment they turned eighteen they were able to do new and exciting things with their miraculous. Their time limit was now nonexistent, they could call on their powers multiple times without recharging, and they could access new powers, powers like Black Storm and Tidal Wave, assuming they had been trained on how to call on them, or had access to and knowledge on how to read the sacred texts that described them, which they now had thanks to the files they had pilfered from the bats.

“Tidal wave!” Dragon Bug yelled moving her arms slowly. Everyone on the roof stared at Dragon Bug wondering what that command did. Their eyes were drawn to the pool when they noticed the water begin to move, slowly at first, swirling like a lazy current under the surface. The movement became faster as the water started to swirl around and rise above the edges of the pool. The bat family and Chat watched in disbelieving awe as the water rose out of the pool in one solid mass, swirling and twirling around and back into itself, and heading straight toward the bat family.

The bats on the other side of the pool moved back a few steps but didn’t move fast enough in their stupor to escape the water. “What the hell?” Red Robin exclaimed quietly as he and Robin were swept up into the vortex that was now moving too fast for them to fight the current. Batman had managed to fight against the water for a few moments, but Robin and Red Robin, whose bodies were much lither were swept up immediately. The water carried them around again at a faster and faster velocity, on their second trip around the vortex, they collided with Batman, knocking him off his feet and forcing him to be at the mercy of the current.

Chat was so mesmerized by the water show he forgot he was supposed to create a portal. Staring instead in wonder at the new power Ladybug had somehow mastered in a few hours. He found out about Black Storm yesterday and still could only roll it around a bit. He still had no idea what it would actually do if he used it. “Chat! Portal to the Batcave now” Dragon Bug screamed at him.

“Right! On it!” Chat exclaimed waking up from his stupor. “Voyage!” he called out motioning toward the water, creating a portal behind it. Ladybug pushed the water through the portal. She flicked her eyes over to Red Hood and hesitated.

“Got about 20 seconds at most, Bug. If you’re going to do something, do it now!” Carapace yelled.

“Are you leaving on your own or do I need to make you?” She asked with pleading eyes. She did not want to make him. She needed him to understand and believe in her enough to do what she asked, even if he didn’t know it was her.

Red Hood looked between her and the portal. He turned back to her, “Please just let me help.”

Dragon Bug looked at him with a conflicted look in her eyes. “It isn’t safe right now and we can’t deal with the akumas if I’m worrying about you too. We just don’t have time to prepare. I need you to go.”

Red Hood stared at her uncertain. “Please, we don’t have time.” Dragon Bug begged him again. He relented and walked backward toward the portal. She let out a grateful breath turned her attention toward the incoming akumas.

“There’s the first one,” Chat yelled. Red Hood whipped his head to where Chat was looking just barely seeing a butterfly over his shoulder as he picked up his pace and started running toward the portal, jumping through just as it closed behind him.

Chapter 7

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Full Disclosure: I came up with the Redwood nickname WEEKS before I realized it could be a pun. I was just looking for names indicating very large things. Chat has a much better ability to spot a pun than I do.

And it is my personal headcanon for this story is that Adrien is a bit like Dick. He likes to keep things light and jokey but if you want to go there, Bitch, he’ll go there with you. His lightness is a self-defense mechanism. Without it, he will go to a dark and scary place and he will take you there with him.

And also, I’m pretty sure this is before Duke was brought into the Batfamily. I think Damian was older than he is in the story when Duke appeared. Otherwise, clearly Duke would be the most rational person to send to Paris.

#Pixie Spy #jasonette #maribat

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avian-tardis · 2 years

Text

What is Right and What is Easy

Chapter 7: Human

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TW: PTSD, Self-harm, Survivor's guilt, Self-hatred

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Harry'd been right about the Great Hall. Not ten minutes after Draco woke, McGonagall appeared in the common room with noticeably purple hands to paste a notice on the door.

All students are to keep clear of the Great Hall and surrounding corridors until advised otherwise by a member of the Hogwarts staff. Students who fail to comply will lose house points and should report to the Hospital Wing promptly.

Signed Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress

Nobody knew exactly what this notice meant until one of the first years accepted a dare to disobey the posting and enter the corridor.

The small Gryffindor girl proceeded slowly, cautiously. It wasn't until she was halfway down that a portion of the wall high above her opened up, let out a piercing shriek, and shot a ball of bright purple slime straight onto the poor girl's head.

The girl ran back to the spectating students as fast as her legs could carry her, screaming and dodging more slime the whole way.

An eighth year Ravenclaw boy, looking tired, performed a cleaning spell over the girl. The slime disappeared quickly; the stains, however, did not. Everywhere the slime had touched her, the girl's skin, hair, clothing, and even her bag had turned a startling shade of purple.

Some of the students sniggered. A group of muggleborns whispered their consensus that she looked rather reminiscent of Violet Beauregard, post-faulty chewing gum.

The now brightly colored first year was led to the Hospital Wing by the same tired-looking Ravenclaw and placed in a seat alongside the twenty-or-so students who hadn't been warned in time.

By midday, word had gotten around the school that the teachers'd had absolutely no luck in removing the stains, and had found that anything the students touched began to slowly turn purple as well.

Peeves refused to tell anyone anything about how he'd done it, and so at some point after lunch, someone had set the Bloody Baron chasing after him. Every few minutes, they could be heard screaming at each other down the halls as the Baron found wherever it was Peeves was hiding.

Draco didn't understand how Harry could possibly have known. He clearly hadn't had anything to do with it - he was with him for almost half the night, anyway. Draco decided he ought to put it out of his mind for now. God knows he already had enough strange interactions with Potter buzzing about in his head as it was.

The chatter in the halls regarding the morning's events had begun to give him a headache, so Draco took a book and stole some snacks from the kitchens before heading out onto the grounds and settling under a tree beside the lake.

Though the peace and quiet were exactly what he'd been seeking, Draco had underestimated the temperature. It had looked quite sunny from inside, and there wasn't much wind. But still, they were nearing the end of November, and Draco's cloak was doing little to keep out the chill.

Draco stayed where he was for almost an hour; mostly out of stubbornness, like when your mum tells you to bring a jacket and you don't, so then you have to pretend you aren't freezing so as not to prove her right. Typical of a Slytherin, really. Hidden under the stubbornness was a small voice insisting that he deserved to stay out in the cold, to sit there shivering until his hands turned blue. Draco told it to piss off.

It was nearly dinnertime when Draco reached the castle, stomping up the snow-dusted steps and trying not to look frozen. He headed straight for the showers, knowing it would be the quickest way to warm up, though he never liked the idea of showering during the day. Oh, well.

When Draco returned to the dormitories for a fresh set of clothes - he really should've grabbed them before but he was apparently too cold to think clearly - a new message was hanging on the door.

Thanks to the hard work of your professors and the persuasion skills of the Bloody Baron, the Great Hall and surrounding corridors have been cleared of Peeves' hex. This means that students may congregate in the Great Hall for dinner as usual. Thank you for your patience and cooperation.

Signed Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress

Draco chuckled. 'The persuasion skills of the Bloody Baron' was an interesting way to put it. He then turned and hurried to his dorm, the thought of dinner making his stomach rumble hungrily.

-----

Peeves had yet to give up any information on how to remove the purple stains from the students, and, as everything they touched turned purple as well, the affected students would be dining in the Hospital Wing.

It made the gaps at the house tables even more noticeable, but Harry tried to push that thought away as soon as it came. Instead, he laughed along with Ron at the sight of the staff table, every member of which had purple skin up to their elbows. It seemed everyone had taken a shot at removing some of the stains. Harry that noticed some of the more advanced seventh and eighth years sported the same symptom; they'd probably had a go as well.

That suspicion was confirmed when Hermione arrived at the table, forearms stained bright purple and looking rather put-out.

"No luck, then, Mione?"

Hermione huffed and plopped down at her seat next to Ron.

"S'pose that's your answer then."

Hermione groaned in frustration, "I just don't understand! We've tried everything! I tried everything I could think of for two hours, and nothing!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Seamus said, "If even McGonagall's having trouble, you know it's not an easy fix."

Hermione sighed, nodding ever so slightly.

Their conversation drifted between topics throughout the meal. Harry was fairly engaged with the rest of them, although he did find his gaze drifting over to Malfoy's table a few times. A few times, he found Malfoy's gaze drifting right back.

Weird, Harry found himself thinking. Cause they weren't glaring at each other. They weren't even eyeing each other suspiciously; they were just… looking. Yep. Definitely weird.

-----

By the next morning, the stains had turned from just purple to purple, blue, and pink, and had started to shimmer. The poor students were beginning to look very much like a toddler's finger painting. Classes were cancelled for the day, as the teachers were focused on solving this problem, and… well. No one was taking them very seriously with colorful, sparkly hands anyway.

By the end of the day, the stains were every color of the rainbow and had started glowing. They had also, the students complained, become unbearably itchy.

McGonagall herself had now ordered the Bloody Baron to capture and detain Peeves until he told them how to fix it.

This finally happened at around 1 a.m. the next day, and McGonagall decided to cancel all classes for the third day in a row so that the teachers and the now normally-hued students could recover from the exhaustion and stress of it all.

Taking advantage of this, almost the entirety of the students third year and older planned a trip to Hogsmeade. McGonagall, who normally would have insisted they plan it ahead of time and get a specified number of adult chaperones, was simply too tired and stressed to bother and allowed the Head Boy and Girl to act as chaperones.

It was warmer today, the sun having come out from behind the clouds and effectively warmed the ground and the air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the others purchased some food and drink at the Three Broomsticks, then laid a blanket down in the meadow (fit with a drying and warming charm, of course) and began a little picnic.

Dean and Seamus kept trading food, stealing from each other's plates until it was unclear who'd had which meal in the first place. Luna was closely inspecting Ginny's chips, convinced that she'd seen a nargle go into the bowl and wanting to find it before Ginny accidentally ate it. Hermione was leaning her head on Ron's shoulder and reading a thick, old book - which Harry was fairly certain was not in english - while Ron handed her bits of his food every few minutes.

All in all, Harry felt like a bit of a seventh wheel. Upon finishing his food, he decided he ought to go find someone who perhaps wouldn't be quite so focused on their best friend or significant other.

He found Neville helping out in the town greenhouse and hovered around there for a while, but eventually wandered out, leaving Neville to converse with an old witch about different species of some therapeutic herb.

Eventually Harry found himself sitting in the snow on the edge of town, tracing shapes at his feet and staring absently at the shrieking shack in the distance.

"Shopping for your new dream home?" A familiar voice rang out behind him, a rather more unfamiliar joking tone coloring it.

"I don't know, seems a bit grand for me, doesn't it, Malfoy?"

"Emphasis on dream, Potter."

There was a silence as Malfoy approached, lowering himself onto the snow next to Harry with a sigh.

Then, "Hang on. You didn't know I was here that day. It was just Ron and Hermione you said that to, about the shack."

Malfoy snorted, "Oh, please, Potter. I was attacked by an invisible force after terrorizing your friends. You were notably missing. I was scared at the time, but it didn't take long to figure out it was you."

Harry gave a noncommittal hum in response.

They sat like that, in silence, for a few minutes more. Harry didn't know what to say, or even if he should speak. Sitting next to Malfoy without trying to kill each other was still not something he was used to. He found himself wondering if it ever would be.

It was strange, this new relationship between them. They didn't hate each other. They didn't even seem to dislike each other anymore, really. But they didn't like each other. They weren't friends.

And speaking of which.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked cautiously.

"What?"

"I mean…" Harry glanced at Malfoy out the corner of his eye, "Your friends are in the village, aren't they? Why are you sitting in the snow here with me?"

Malfoy sighed and leaned back onto his elbows, tilting his head to look at the sky.

"I guess I just felt like… I don't know. Something."

"You don't have to say, I guess. I was just curious."

"Mmm. Thanks."

Harry looked down at Malfoy's face. It was strange, but Harry'd always thought Malfoy's face looked not quite human, like he was part rodent. He didn't think that now. Malfoy just looked like Malfoy. Tired, maybe. Stressed, certainly. Disheveled in what would've been an uncharacteristic manner last year, but now just seemed casual.

He looked imperfect. He looked flawed.

Harry smiled.

He looked human.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3fic #ao3 #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry x draco #harry/draco #what is right and what is easy #what is right and what is easy avian-tardis #wirawie #avian-tardis

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delaber · 3 years

Text

Just Friends (Part 12)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, angst, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: Okay so I probably should’ve tagged this story with angst. Whoops. Sorry guys

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

On Friday at 11 pm, you practically ran out the door of the lab, happy that you had managed to get so much work done within the past week. You needed some well-deserved time off and you could not wait to see Rafa and party with him and his friends all night. You had changed into the green dress that Samantha had picked out for you and was careful not to get it all sweaty as you fast-paced to the closest metro-line, hopping on the first train, eager to party.

As you arrived outside the guys' house, you could tell that it was already packed with people as laughter and rap music was booming out of the open windows in the kitchen. With a significant bounce in your step, you walked to the front door and stepped inside. The music was almost unbearably loud inside the house as you took a look around the room.

With Diggs' birthday present in hand (a bottle of Scotch and some British toffees) you did a quick scan for either the birthday boy or Rafa but was interrupted by a voice coming from the kitchen, "are you looking for Daveed? ‘Cause he disappeared into the bathroom with a girl a couple of minutes ago," a beautiful woman smiled at you. You vaguely recognised her as the girl who'd played Rafa's girlfriend in Blindspotting.

"Glad to hear that he's enjoying his birthday," you laughed, "you wouldn't happen to know where I can find Rafael?"

The girl's eyes widened, "Ooh! You're the British chick that Rafa's been on and on about for months now!" she presented her hand to you, "I'm Jasmine."

You shook her hand but your mind was elsewhere, "Rafa's been on about me... for months?"

"Yeah! I first heard about you way back in November at our annual Thanksgiving-party. He didn't know how to woo you," Jasmine smiled warmly, "and when I saw him again on Christmas day, he was still talking about wooing you even though he hadn't seen you since."

"You're kidding me!" you laughed.

"Nope!" Jasmine joined you in laughing, "he was clearly wounded by how completely uninterested you were," she chuckled.

"Aw, that poor little famous man!"

"Yeah it does get to his head sometimes. So it's really great when someone like you finally shows up and forces him to take it down a notch."

"Always happy to kindly pick him apart," you joked.

"Oh, you did way more than that!" Jasmine smiled, "to this day he will not shut up about you," she groaned playfully, "what happened? Did he finally drop by your house as we all advised him to do?"

"Nope," you shook your head with a low chuckle, "we actually bumped into each other randomly at new years."

"Ugh, I knew he'd chicken out!" Jasmine sighed, "Well I'm glad to hear that it worked out anyway - even though I have to admit that it's slightly hurtful that he didn't take any of his friends' advice," she smiled, "especially since we all told him to do the same thing; just leave a damn note."

Although you were flattered that Rafa had been talking to his friends about you even before you'd bumped into him again on new years, you had to admit that it was mildly surprising too. You were slowly realising that Rafa may have downplayed exactly how much he had thought about you in the weeks between your first and second encounter.

Jasmine's voice brought you back to reality, "You got him good," she laughed, "I don't think he's had such a challenge in years! It clearly humbled him that you didn't throw yourself at him at the first chance you got. We all adore you for leaving him desperate for more on the curb."

"Glad to be of service!" You laughed as well, already fond of Jasmine. She seemed just as carefree and bubbly as Samantha.

"Why don't we go see if we can find him? I know he's been dying for you to get here, looking at his phone every two seconds," Jasmine smiled at you.

"Yeah, I've been looking forward to it too," you smiled.

"I think he's playing beer pong in the living room."

You put down Daveed's present on a small table and followed Jasmine to the next room where most of the party goers were either dancing, talking in clusters, or playing various drinking games. Just as Jasmine had predicted, Rafa was playing beer pong with a group of people looking excitedly at the game unfolding before them. Rafa was in a light shirt and black slacks, the golden bracelet he always wore swung loosely around his wrist. His hair was in its normal slight swoop, the stubble on his chin a bit longer than you'd seen it before. He looked damned good as he was laughing with his friends.

"Hey Casal!" Jasmine said and gained his attention.

Rafa looked up at her with an expectant look on his face, clearly waiting for her continue speaking. His gaze quickly flickered to you, and when your eyes finally met, he had the same reaction as the night you'd met on new years eve; eyes softening significantly, smile slowly cracking on his face until his mouth was spread as wide as it possibly could, a hand flying to his heart as he took in your appearance. Without breaking his eye contact with you, he padded his teammate on the back and mumbled something to him before he stepped over to you, immediately pulling you tight against his chest.

"Hi," he whispered softly against you, "fuck, you look amazing," he grumbled, "I love that dress," his hands slid over your back and came to a rest just above your hip bone.

"Thanks. You look very handsome," you threw your arms around his waist, and looked up at him, almost wishing you could kiss him.

"Is it the beard?" he smiled, a slight growl to his voice.

"Yeah, you look almost grown-up," you chuckled, "where's the snarky boy from the bar?"

"Oh, he's long gone," Rafa winked down at you before he let you go when his teammate shouted his name.

"Hey, why don't you go make yourself a drink and I'll join you shortly?" he smiled, and sent Jasmine a look that silently asked her to take care of you.

"Come," Jasmine tugged on your arm, "I could use a drink as well."

You reluctantly left Rafa to go back to his game of beer pong and followed Jasmine to the other end of the living room. You both mixed a piña colada from the self-service bar, and sat down in a vacant spot in the sofa.

You looked around at the rest of the people in the sofa area, eyes almost immediately interlocking with the man you had met in the living room as you had snuck out the door on January 1st. He looked at you playfully, "Oh hey! I almost didn't recognise you with your clothes on!"

"Oh god," you groaned and laughed in the hopes of shrugging off the embarrassment you felt at the thought, "Definitely not my finest moment!"

"You don't say," he laughed and filled Jasmine in on what had happened that morning. Apparently, they knew each other as well.

"You walked out on Rafa on new years day as well?" Jasmine chuckled, "No wonder he was so grumpy when I called and wished him and Diggs a happy new year."

"Oof, you should've seen him when he found out you'd snuck out the door," the man sent you an anxious smile, "he was not happy! ...But you made up I'm guessing," he said, still smiling widely, "seeing as you're here and all."

"We did," you nodded, slightly embarrassed by how all of his friends apparently were involved in your situation but you shrugged it off with a joke, "so he only uses his friends to unload when he's frustrated? He hasn't even gotten around to tell you all about the happy ending and our rekindling friendship," you smiled.

"Yeah, he's a dick," Jasmine chuckled.

Sofa-man laughed, "Nah, we can take it. We all know that he's just insanely private about the women he fall in love with."

"The women he fall in love with?!!?!" You shrieked but no one really seemed to hear neither your voice nor your heart that was beating like crazy in your chest.

Rafa was in love????

"Oh come on," Jasmine rolled her eyes at sofa-man, "He's not private at all! He just hasn't had anyone to tell us about for years! You know Rafa. He's a big softie posing as a tough guy."

"Yeah, well that's true," the man laughed, "It's actually quite nice to finally meet the woman who was able to tie that boy down."

You felt yourself going dizzy. This was a lot to take in. Did you already mean as much to Rafa as his friends were implying? You were aware of the fact that he was insanely sexually attracted to you and that he was fond of your company - and if you were completely honest with yourself, you also knew that Rafa had a major crush on you but by the way his friends were talking about it Rafa had fallen in lo-

"Heeeeey!" a man behind you broke your stream of thoughts as he put his hands on your shoulders, "you came!"

You looked up to a smiling Daveed who looked quite tipsy.

"Daveed!" you did your best to look excited as if the news that Jasmine and the other guy had broken to you a few seconds before hadn't toppled you, "happy birthday!"

"Aw thanks," he hugged you, "did you say hi to Rafa? He's right over there," he pointed to an overly-confident Rafa who was juggling two ping pong balls.

"Yeah, we just came from over there," Jasmine laughed from beside you.

"Oh Jas!" Daveed said excitedly as if he'd only just realised that she was there, "I see you've finally met Rafa's girl!"

Before Jasmine had even had the chance to think of an answer, you swooped around, "not his girl," you pointed at Daveed and said for what felt like the millionth time since you'd gotten to know him. "I'm not Rafa's girl," you looked back at Jasmine and the man from January 1st too. They both shot you weird looks.

"Oh, trust me. You're his girl," Daveed snickered, apparently not catching on to your tone.

"I assure you I'm not!" you smiled sweetly, "we're just friends. Please stop calling me his girl. We’re friends,” you were aware that your voice was sounding desperate and pleadingly.

The smile finally disappeared from Daveed's face when he heard your tone of voice, "Are you sure Rafa's aware of that?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"He knows!" you nodded to convince him.

"Uh, that's not really the vibe he's been sending," sofa-man said quietly from behind you.

You looked between the three friends, all of them sending you concerned looks.

"Uuuuh.... I... I need to run to the bathroom real quick," you said suddenly and stood up from the sofa, grateful that your feet took you away from the conversation without you really having to steer them. They walked in the opposite direction of the bathroom, steering towards the pool area outside instead. Air! You needed air!

You quickly walked by Rafa and his group of friends playing beer pong, praying that he didn't see you, but luckily it seemed as if he was far too concerned with the last cup standing in front of the opposite team to notice anything else.

Quickly, you opened the door to the outside, snaked your way out and slid it soundlessly shut behind you. You sat down on a bench overlooking the pool thinking about what Rafa's friends had said. Was he really so smitten with you? You couldn't decide whether you felt happy or suffocated. You were going home in a week for crying out loud! If Rafa had fallen in love with you it would complicate things a bunch! You cursed yourself for having played along for so long when deep down you knew that it was bound to happen to at least one of you. You felt like a bloody idiot!

Although... if you were completely honest with yourself, you had to admit that Rafa wasn't the only one who was smitten; you had fallen for him pretty hard as well. You had tried to fight it relentlessly but in the end his sincere nature and sweet gestures had made cupid shoot heart-shaped arrows at you. You thought of the last couple of weeks and how hard it had been for Rafa to keep his hands to himself. It had been quite sweet how involuntary it had all been and how he had practically touched or kissed you at every chance he got. He just couldn't help himself. The thought alone of his helpless, wandering hands made the butterflies flutter awake in your stomach. And you realised that even though you had fought hard to avoid it, you were actually crazy in love with him too. It felt as if you were high as you finally let yourself indulge in the feeling of being in love with him. The feeling ended abruptly, however, as you realised that the two of you didn't have a happy ending. That you still had to go home. That everything was indeed screwed.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door behind you sliding slightly open before it was closed again. Not two seconds later, you were joined by Daveed who sat down next to you.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked you as he put a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Yep!" you said a little too chipper to sound believable.

"Is it Rafa?"

You didn't know why you had felt the need to pretend in front of Daceed, so you immediately let down your guard, "how'd you guess," you sighed unenthusiastically.

"What'd the idiot do now?" he too sighed.

"He didn't do anything."

"What are you sitting out here all sad for then?"

"Because I just had an epiphany," you looked up at Daveed.

"An epiphany?" He sent you an amused smile, "sounds interesting. About what?"

"About Rafa," you squinted at him as if the sun was blinding you, "I think we're in love..."

Daveed's smile grew wide, "oh, great! So you finally admit it? He's going to be stoked!"

"It's not exactly great news..."

"Why not?" Daveed laughed, "when is being in love ever bad news?"

"It is when one part is leaving the country in a week," you shot him a pained expression.

"Oh. Yeah," Daveed said slowly, his sassiness visibly dropping to zero, "That part sucks, I know."

"Yep!"

"Which is why I don't understand why you aren't in there soaking up every last minute you have left with him."

"Ugh," you buried your face in your hands, a small desperate laugh escaping your lips, "because this is so complicated. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm usually so in control!"

Daveed laughed, "well I for one know that Rafa has been desperate to get you to drop the act and just smooch him already."

"Oh my god," you laughed into your hands, "I can't believe he's even involved all of his friends. Jasmine and that guy you were hanging with on new years day knew exactly who I was. They told me that Rafa's been ready from the beginning because I was so dismissive towards him."

"Yeah, you spellbound him," Daveed laughed.

"Did I bring this upon myself?" You squinted up at Daveed.

"You're putting too much on your own shoulders. Rafa knew from the get-go that you had to go back to Europe after a couple of months - granted, at first, I think he just saw you as an interesting fuck, but he could've stepped out when he realised that he wanted to hold you tight and buy you hotdogs and what not," he elbowed you with a laugh.

"Yeah... yeah you're right. Do you think he'll handle it alright when I go fly back home?"

He smiled secretively, "he's probably gonna go full emo."

You looked up at Rafa's best friend who you knew would have his work cut out for him, "sorry..."

"Not your fault," Daveed laughed, "and I'm guessing that you'll still keep talking and maybe fly back and forth when you have the chance. I can handle emo-Rafa if you just handle happy-Rafa."

"Sounds like a fair distribution of roles," you laughed before going all serious, "what do I do now?"

"You tell him of course," Daveed smiled brightly, "and you two just enjoy the upcoming week. I'll find somewhere to stay so you can have crazy monkey sex all over the house without having to think about the cock-block of a roomie," he winked at you.

"You truly possess big 'best mate'-energy," you laughed.

"I do," he nodded.

You smiled at him for a second before the seriousness of the situation hit you again, "wow, I wish I wasn't so..." you couldn't find the right word.

"European?" Daveed finished.

"Yeah," you chuckled, "if I didn't live so fucking far away from here, it'd be a completely different situation."

"I know," Daveed said and hugged you, "cheer up. It's gonna suck for a while but you'll find a way."

"Thanks," you mumbled into his shoulder.

You were still hugging when you heard the door slide open behind you.

"I thought I saw you two out here," Rafa's voice called happily when he stepped outside.

Daveed slowly let go of you, allowing you to turn around and face Rafa who had a large grin plastered on his face.

"My best friend and my... other friend," he smiled drunkenly, "what a sight."

"I'll give you two some privacy," Daveed said with a wink before he went inside.

Rafa took Daveed's seat next to you, immediately pulling you close, "why were you and Diggs sitting out here all alone? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you smiled up at him, "yeah, everything's good."

"So you don't know why Jasmine looked at me all worried just before?"

"I kind of ditched her," you sent him an apologetic look.

"Aw, you don't like Jas?"

"I do! I just had to get some air and clear my head," you smiled.

"Yeah? Long day at the office?"

"You have no idea!" You laughed, "I hope you had a better day than I did."

"Mmh, I'm having the best day," he buried his face in your neck, "It's Diggs' birthday and you're here with me and I'm just having a really, really great night."

"Alright," you laughed, "well, in connection with that, I have something to tell you that I hope will make it even better," you grinned while he nuzzled against your neck. He was being really cute and you couldn't help but laugh at him, "this is a big deal, could you not act like a lovesick puppy right now?"

"No," he kissed your collarbone, "what do you want to tell me," he chuckled drunkenly.

You took a deep breath, "Rafa -"

"Mmmh," he interrupted you with a growl as he licked his lips, "I love it when you say my name," he grinned up at you.

"Be serious for once!" You laughed, "I'm about to blow your mind over here!"

"Mmmh, can't wait," he smiled, lips inching closer and closer to yours, his eyes glistening in the dim light from the pool. He smelled of beer and whiskey and it made you feel both adventurous and safe at the same time. His right hand was warm against the back of your neck as he closed the distance between you, his lips moving slowly and sensually against yours while his left hand was stroaking your thigh. He was humming slightly as he moved his body closer to you, the hand he had on your neck travelling to the middle of your thoracic spine where he pushed slightly, bringing your torso even closer to his. Kissing Rafa and finally allowing yourself to do so without feeling bad about it felt more amazing than you had ever imagined, and you felt your heart explode in a heap of colours as you both poured yourself into the slow kiss. All the nervousness you'd felt only moments before was now gone, and you suddenly couldn't wait to tell him that you were in love with him. Slowly, you pulled your lips away from his, earning yourself a small whimper from him.

"Rafa," you tried once more.

"I know, I know. You don't have to say anything," he stated flatly with a smile, his words a bit slurred from the alcohol, "I already know what you're gonna say."

"You do?" Amused, you arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," he smiled confidently, "you're gonna call me out for kissing you and for wanting to fuck your brains out, and you're gonna remind me of your code and the fact that you're leaving in 7 days and blablabla," he said cockily, "and because I care about you, I'll pretend that I care about your code, so I'll tell you sorry and that I'll be on my best behaviour, and you'll accept my apology and I'll patiently wait for the next opportunity and start all over again until you finally say to hell with it all and act like you really want to. And around it goes," he smirked, his lips suddenly close to yours again, "does that sound about right?"

You blinked a few times while his words settled in your brain. Did he just say what you think he did? "Wait what? Hold up Rafa. Back up a second; You patiently wait for opportunities to overstep the boundaries of the friendship that we both agreed on? You keep pushing until I say to hell with it and let you do whatever you want?" You repeated with closed eyes, wondering if you'd understood him correctly, "are you saying that you did all of those more-than-friendly touches, and hugs, and kisses on purpose? That you were in fact able to keep your hands to yourself but you pretended not to be so you could make me say 'to hell with it?'," you looked at him rather unimpressed.

"I wanted to win you over," he shrugged with a crooked smile, "did I manage? It feels like I managed," he snickered. He did not look as cute right now as he had done only seconds before, the smell of beer and whiskey suddenly a tad bit sickening.

"So what you're saying is that you lied and pretended to be interested in being friends with me when in reality, all you could think about was planning your next move so I'd let you screw me?"

"Aw, come on. You're making me sound like a villain," he groaned.

"Rafa, let me get straight with you," you said sternly, "Don't you understand that I made those rules so this wouldn't happen?"

He finally seemed to understand the severity of the situation, "so what wouldn't happen?" He spoke in an offended tone as he straightened up.

"So we wouldn't fall for each other! And now I find out that you had an elaborate scheme to get me to throw myself at you when I told you specifically that I was not interested in that? What kind of a sociopat does that?" You stood up from the bench, anger bubbling more and more in your veins as you slowly realised what he'd done, "what the fuck, Rafa?!"

"You think I did it completely for myself?" He asked calmly but with offence still staining his tone of voice, "you think I did it to somehow lure you into sleeping with me? You really don't see that I did it because I thought you deserved to listen to your instincts for once instead of doing what you think is the right thing to do?"

"You had no right!"

"Hey, don't you dare put all the blame on me!" His voice was raised slightly as he too stood up from the bench, "you were just as bad at keeping your hands to yourself as I was! Inviting me up for tea and fucking cuddling," he spat.

"I had one weak moment!" You held up your finger.

"Oh don't give me that shit! You had several! How about kissing me in the living room after the concert? And a few days ago in Diggs' car? Or masturbating in front of me - or even whipping out your tits in the bathroom when you know I'm crazy about you?"

"That's the problem, Rafa! I thought you were just sexually frustrated! Had I known you were bonkers about me this whole time, I wouldn't have allowed it to come this far!"

"Oh you wouldn't have allowed it?" He said in a wild tone of voice, "well I'm fucking sorry for having my own free will. As if I need your permission to fall for you."

"I can't believe that I got caught up in your web," you scoffed. Mostly to yourself, "I mean; I knew you were dangerous! I knew you'd have the ability to smooth talk your way into my heart - but never in my wildest imagination did I think that you'd screw me over and do all of this on purpose to get me to fall for you. What did you do it for? Did you do it to check off the girl who rejected you? Self gratification? Bragging rights to your mates? A couple of weeks of sex? What Rafa?"

"Oh fuck you," he spat, "don't give me that shit when you're clearly just as crazy about me as I am about you."

"I'm not sure I am anymore," you said rather childishly.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that so you can fuck off back to England without ever having to think of me again," he panted, "is that what you want? Is that really what you think is realistic? If you think you can put me in a box labelled 'my PhD-trip to California' and never think of me again, then you're clearly not as clever as I thought you were. Do you really think that just because you've tried to stay abstinent, that you could leave every thought of me across the ocean?" His voice broke as he took a step closer to you.

"I don't know what I thought," you said calmly, eyes piercing through him, "clearly, it was a mistake to engage in anything with you."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so he could be rational, "look, I'm sorry if I tricked you. It really wasn't my intention and I clearly made a mistake and you got hurt. I just need you to understand that I didn't do it on purpose; I just wanted to get you to act on your feelings instead of staying in your head. I just wanted you to enjoy your time here. With me."

"You ruined it, Rafa," you said slowly, "I don't care if you hurt me on purpose or not. You still did. You manipulated me."

"Baby come on," he croaked, his voice cracking.

"I'm not your baby," you whispered.

You looked at each other for a few seconds, his eyes drunk and hurt. "Is this is then?" He croaked with desperate hands gesturing to nothing in particular, "do you really think that my actions are so unforgivable that we can't see each other anymore?"

"No, it's not unforgivable. I just don't see the point in forgiving you when I leave in a bit anyway."

"You're breaking my heart," he said quietly.

"You broke mine first."

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #smut #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 10)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Okay, I’m not happy with most some parts of this chapter, but I wanted to post it anyways cause I don’t really know how to make it better, and also I didn’t wanna be late on the Tuesday uploads so...here you go. Hope you like it, and I would love to hear from you! :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou

The King is too busy to demand your presence at his side more than a few scarce times a day, so you are free of the reminder of the new set of chains that are to be set upon you soon.

Still, it’s only two days since your…fate was sealed that you find yourself once again unmoored by the King’s whims and impossible to understand desires.

Helios has barely stated crossing the skies when you are roused from sleep, your heart beating the pace of a rabbit and images of a woman smiling behind a red veil haunting you with their etherealness, your mind not being able to latch onto what the Gods tried telling you.

When you are sent out to collect some crates of herbs and spices from a merchant that arrived the night before, you catch sight of, more than the usual curious or distrusting eyes set upon you, a single eyed man following your moves.

You turn to catch him, and he doesn’t bother pretending not to be following you. The white-haired man is a sight you recognize as one of the King’s warriors, and realization falls upon you.

Not only do you have people stationed outside of the home you sleep in, or soldiers bound to move you from place to place at the King’s whims, but you have men dedicated to following you when you walk around.

The old warrior probably senses your anger and unasked questions, and walks past you towards the crates you left on the ground, picking them up with ease.

“I’m here in case you try something…ill-advised.”

“Like working?”

“Like escaping.” He supplies, chuckling amusedly when you wrestle the crates from his arms with a huff.

Furrowing your lips, you stalk your way back to the apothecary. You could swear the old man makes his footsteps heavier on purpose as he walks behind you.

Almost half a day later one of the elders is teaching you -more patiently than you deserve- how to make a poultice to stop a wound from bleeding when the door opens suddenly, startling you from your work.

You watch with wide eyes as the King walks into the small shop, and judging by the sharp intakes of breath, the mutters and stares, the rest of the women are as surprised as you.

He still hasn’t announced his deranged plan to make you his wife, or at least hasn’t announced it to anyone that would start a rumor, for -thankfully enough- to the people of this kingdom you seem to be another freed slave, another merchant from a faraway land.

“Priestess.” Ivar calls out, and you walk from behind one of the half-walls, greeting him with the same taunt.

“Viking.”

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, pale eyes looking over the shop with disinterest.

You frown, recalling the anger that coursed through you earlier today, “Was I to be in my cell?”

He frowns, a furrow in his nose, “You are not a prisoner.”

“Then why are there armed men following me?” You fire back, quickly.

“Is there any other way to get you to do as I say?” He shoots back, the same taunt as that day in the docks, with Stithulf’s -his- chains around your wrists.

“I don’t think you really want me obedient, my King.” You dare say, and the smile you offer him reminds you of the one you used to sport before, when you felt free and safe. Right before starting the sprint to cross the fast spring on a jump, your hair wild and feet bare, your heart beating fast in equal parts fear and excitement.

When he limps closer to you, you remain in your place and look into his eyes, aware the King can sense your quickened breaths and rapid heart, but hoping he mistakes lust for fear.

A part of you that starved amongst the flowers of Eleusis rejoices in the risk, the thrill of it all.

And when you smile, you draw Ivar’s gaze to the curve of your mouth. And when his tongue runs over his lower lip, you realize you are not the only one whose breath is quickened.

“You will do as I say.” He orders lowly, through gritted teeth even if his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“You will stop treating me like a prisoner,” You offer back, the despair of having nothing to lose emboldening you more than you thought possible. And even if the words feel like poison, you finish, “And I will obey.”

“No,” He admits after a few moments of silence, voice barely a murmur, blue eyes travelling over your face and exposed skin, “I don’t think I want you to.”

“What do you want, then?” You ask, your voice just as hushed.

His eyes settle on yours, always angry and of course determined, but carrying now a hint of the almost-softness, of the hesitation, you believe you saw in those days spent in Aneridge.

He leans closer, voice quiet by your ear, “I want to offer an arrangement.”

“An arrangement.”

“Meet me tomorrow, and every day after that, Priestess,” He says, his voice carrying with authority even if the glint in his eyes almost begs you to defy him again. “Have all your meals with me.”

“Why do you ask this of me?”

“I told you, Priestess, you and I are not done talking,” He says, eyes searching yours, “In exchange, I will…loosen the chains.”

“I thought guests had no chains.”

“My guests do,” He dismisses, making irritation flare within you. Eyes searching yours, he presses, “They will come find you tomorrow, take you to me. You will have your day meal alone with me.”

“Are you ordering me to? Or asking?” You whisper back, pulling back so you can see his face. There’s a twitch of irritation, the very clear sign of gritted teeth, and a flare of something impulsive and that begs for a show of cruelty in his pale eyes; but he seems to hold himself back.

“I’m asking.” The King grits out finally. You allow yourself a small smile of triumph, that feels a little too genuine when you remind yourself who you are dealing with.

“Alright. I shall see you tomorrow then.”

The King smirks, and when he pulls away you recall the phantom feeling of his burning warmth and feel cold, but say nothing.

When the white-haired man closes the door forcefully behind him, you feel the eyes of every woman on you. You push yourself away from the table you were almost sitting on while the King pushed you into it, standing on shaking legs and trying to bring your breathing back to normal.

“That’s a first.” One of the women quips, a tall and blonde woman you notice carries the strut and posture of a warrior.

“A first what?” You ask cautiously.

“A first time that someone survives being that unbearably stupid,” She states, startling a laugh out of one of the others. You allow yourself a small smile, and the woman pats your back with quite a bit of strength. “You ought to be more careful, girl. Why do you test the man so?”

You can offer nothing but a sheepish grimace. She sighs, but there’s light in her eyes.

“At least we know the witch has a Viking side to her. No soft-hearted Greek would look into Ivar the Boneless’ eyes with that kind of anger.” Other quips from her place sorting one of the newest shipments of herbs and spices.

“Anger? Oh, that wasn’t anger, child.” An elder says with a laugh, directing a knowing side-glance to you. You pretend focusing on grinding Yarrow to avoid giving her an answer, although you fear your silence gave her one.

Conversation switches to the strange wares an Ottoman merchant has brought in as one of the elders starts distributing the bowls of food amongst the women, and it feels like being next to the fire on one of the cabins in the Silk Roads, Sieghild at your side guiding your hands to make arrows correctly.

You catch the eyes of the Völva on you while you are supping, and the gifted woman offers you a small nod of recognition and something else, but says nothing. You can still feel her gaze on you throughout the night.

When you go to bed, you catch tendrils of something you cannot quite place making you feel uneasy, but dismiss it and close your eyes hoping sleeps claims you soon.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you awaken with a jolt, the unfamiliar feeling of weight settling in your bed drawing a gasp out of your mouth. You catch a glimpse of blonde curls and blue eyes you know well, even if you don’t trust their intentions fully, and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling.

The faint smell of mint fills your nose as Freydis settles on your side. It feels like a tendril of a voice, the way the smell makes something odd and bitter blossom in your chest; but you cannot place your finger on what it could mean.

“You are a fool,” The girl chastises as she lays on your bed, leaving almost no space between the two of you. You grit your teeth and roll your eyes, but say nothing. She presses, “You should learn to play better, witch.”

This makes you rise from your bed, one of your hands supporting your weight as you sit and the other holding the sheets to your chest as your upper body leans towards the girl.

Playing games kept you from freedom once too many times.

Fooling Narses into believing you loved him broke your own heart, but you always assumed when the war was over and you were -most likely- dead, it wouldn’t matter.

But it did matter, and playing games chained you. To be an Anassa when all you wanted to do was run, to be a betrothed when you wanted to be your own before anyone’s, to be part of a Saxon’s army when you wanted to bleed every Christian for all they were worth.

Maybe playing games is the reason you are here today, a slave to a mad King’s whims and delusions.

“I know how to play, Freydis, I choose not to. One of the last choices I am able to make.” You bite back, the painful words uneasy in your tongue even as you bare your teeth in a snarl.

But the girl does not falter, her hand closing over yours where it rests on the bed, and her eyes certain when they meet yours,

“You have a chance to be what some only dream of, remember that.”

How much does she truly know? You narrow your eyes, wondering who could know of Ivar’s promises and demands other than you and the Gods themselves.

A part of you wants to tell her that if it is your place under Ivar the Boneless’ boot what she wants, she can gladly take it; but no, you don’t think that’s what she wants.

After considering her in silence for a few moments, you gently take your hand out of her grasp.

“I am sorry, but you and I dream of very different things,” You mutter, laying back down on the bed, “Being a voice in a madman’s ear is not what I aim to be.”

“A means to an end, witch.” She reminds you quietly, but you are shaking your head before she is even done speaking.

“Not by my means, I’m afraid.”

____

Your eyes narrow at the food placed before you, with what looks to be blueberries but not quite sprinkled inside the soft and creamy mixture.

“Priestess.” The King calls out, and when you lift your gaze you find him already watching you, something like exasperated curiosity in his pale gaze.

You offer a shrug and return your gaze to your plate, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Food,” He supplies dryly, offering you a downturned mouth as if ti say it’s true when you glare at him. After taking a bite out of what looks like a strange kind of bread, he supplies, “Färskost.”

You still have no idea what that means, but you nod and try the cream that tastes vaguely of cheese, and the berries that are not quite the ones of your home but surely taste like them.

You test the syllables in your tongue as you mix in more berries. A sudden huff of choked laughter startles you and you lift your gaze back to the Viking.

Before saying anything, he takes a drink from his cup, but you see the mocking smile on his lips.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You defend yourself, almost offended even if your lips want to curve into a smile as well.

“Sure.” He promises, boyish smile still on his lips, and you could swear a small chuckle leaves his lips -this time true, honest, instead of mocking or mischievous- when you roll your eyes at him.

“Váll' eis kórakas.” You mutter.

“What does that mean?”

“You are a smart man, you surely know.” You tell him instead, raising your chin with what you know is an annoying display of arrogance.

“Witch, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” The Prince, the man you recognize as Hvitserk, calls out as he approaches the both of you, easy smile on full lips. Stealing a glance to his brother, he adds, “I have to admit, you look much more alluring adorned in silk rather than chains.”

You recognize the jab at his brother even if you have none to speak of, and it is foolish protectiveness that makes you smile but still reply,

“It takes a smart man to see beauty in either way, they say.”

His surprise is written in the raise of his eyebrows, but his eyes shine with mirth; and where Ivar may have shown anger at your response, he only breathes a laugh.

“Not only beauty, it seems.”

You incline your head as a show of gratitude for the compliment, easy smile still on your lips even if it carries a bit of falsehood to it. You were never one to like pleasantries.

“Did you do as you were told to?” Ivar interrupts, leaning back in his seat and bringing a cup to his lips.

“My scouts say Ubbe will arrive in two weeks.” Hvitserk offers as an answer, but it is apparently not enough for the younger Viking.

“Will you finally cower and sail back to Dublin with him?”

It is with a sigh the other man answers, “I don’t know, Ivar. Clearly Kattegat has nothing I should stay for, so I might as well.”

The King raises his cup over his head, as if gesturing towards his brother, and though there’s nothing nonchalant in the gesture, he makes it appear so.

“And you have my blessing to do so! Why don’t you go ahead and find a Saxon woman to marry, like Sigurd?” His eyes narrow, “Might as well disappoint the Gods, like you disappoint father’s memory.”

“You think father would be proud of you?” The other man accuses, stepping closer.

“At least I’ve achieved something. I have my fame, a fame that will one day be even greater than father’s,” Ivar boasts, squaring his shoulders as his gaze defies Hivtserk’s, “What have you done, other than following others?”

“I’ve kept you from going to war with your own blood. I’ve prevented our brothers from killing you like they wanted to,” The Prince hisses, and at the vitriol in his tone you take your eyes from his enraged face to look at the King, who meets his eyes unwaveringly. “I kept Ubbe from killing you like you almost killed Sigurd.”

“Shut your mouth!”

The way the King’s hand quickly goes to the axe at the table, eyes furious like you have never seen before as they meet his brother’s, you have a feeling he was not supposed to bring that up.

Prince Hvitserk steals a glance to you, maybe gauging your reaction, maybe telling you to run, maybe asking for help. You remain still regardless.

“What will you do with that, Ivar?” Hvitserk dares, motioning to the axe on the table with his head. His eyes are hard but in the way he stands you see he is not certain about how this will unfold.

With a knot of uncertainty and tension in your chest, you keep your eyes jumping between the Prince and the King, waiting with baited breath to see what happens.

You remember when Narses laid his army at your feet, when he agreed to have his men fight the Saracens the way you told him to. You remember that thrill, that thrumming under your skin, that certainty that you held power unlike any other in the palm of your hand.

That was nothing, nothing¸ compared to the feeling of having those two armies crash against one another, the raiders and the defenders, the Saracens and the Attics, the enemies and the allies. Feeling the ground shake under your feet as they advanced, hearing the sound of war, witnessing the clash of the warriors; nothing compared to it, nothing taught you more of power than that first battle.

And in the stretched-thin stillness of the room, as the two brothers face one another, you cannot help but think about how similar it is to the moment the marching armies clash.

But with an irritated huff and leaning his body back onto the chair Ivar ends it before it can even begin. The Prince relaxes his stance as well, grunting something to himself before he takes a seat in the long table.

He doesn’t take his eyes of his brother though, not even as he calls your name.

Without waiting for you to respond, he says, “Whitehair will show you to your rooms. Go, and I’ll call for you later.”

“I have my own room?” You ask before you can stop yourself, and his eyes meet yours. The simmering rage you see in them startles you, but it doesn’t scare you even though you know it should.

“You are not a prisoner, are you?”

“This is not what I asked for.” You tell him lowly, even though you are already standing up from your seat.

“This is all you are getting.” He promises cruelly, and you are dismissed with but a gesture.

____

So that’s it, I hope you liked it. And, as always, I would love to hear what you think.

The food mentioned here it’s a sort of yogurt made in the Viking Age according to this source, made from cheese. The blueberries are bilberries, the Northern European version of the berries, according to this.

And what she says in Greek is a curse that I think is in Aristophanes, meaning “To the crows”, but that can be translated as a way of saying go fuck yourself, and I think it’s beautiful lmao. It has to do with the desecration of the dead bodies by the crows and all that, apparently.

Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you Saturday with Chapter 11!! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #νοσταλγία masterlist

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary: The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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