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simsadventures · 3 years

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Gilded: Chapter 3: Power Over Me

Mobster!Steve x Reader

Summary: What more can you do than have a rad bachelorette party and then move to a house full of mobsters. It all sounds fun, right? Well, not according to your experience.

Warnings: mobster AU, drinking, swearing, surveillance, angst, smidge of fluff, violence, mention of bruises, fear

Word Count: 5737

A/N: A little late, I know I know, but I wanted to make sure the chapter was exactly how I wanted it. I keep thinking I will get to the wedding, and then some situations occur and I know I have to concentrate on them a little more. Than being said, I think we will finally see the wedding next! What do you think of this part? Did you like it? Is the reader a little less annoying? Let me know xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

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The scene was supposed to be joyous, but, for some reason, the majority of what you felt was filled with sadness. Not for any particular reason, it was just the weigh of your decision finally settling in your heart and the realization hitting you that you would indeed be getting married in a week to a total stranger, who was a mobster, none less.

You chose it, you had to remind yourself as tears fought their way in your eyes. It was just momentary sadness overpowering you, the feeling that your wedding wouldn’t be filled with people loving and caring for you, that the day would be more about showing off Steve’s power over the world than showing his love for his new bride, for whom he had none. And you would be there almost alone: no parents, no extended family, and a very few close friends. Whom you loved dearly, of course, and without whom you wouldn’t even be considering taking such a step. You needed them there, and not just the two lovable idiots you lived with.

It was also people you’ve come to love during your university years as well as some coworkers, like Christy and Anja. Together it made around 15 people, which was actually a lot more than you had anticipated, but still. It would have to be Aidan walking you down the aisle, and just the mere thought made a choked sob escape your lips.

The sound brought the attention of the room to you, and before you knew it, you were enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from all the people there, everyone telling you that you should be happy, that this was a good thing. Of course, nobody except Caroline and Aidan knew the reality behind the wedding. All they thought was happening was that you fell madly in love with Steve Rogers, and now you two were tying the knot. You even overhead Aisha say that you were definitely pregnant, otherwise, you wouldn’t have rushed into it like this. You tried to assure everyone that there was no pregnancy at all, but, of course, people believed what they wanted, and you lacked the energy to go around the room and speak to them individually, denying what they formed in their heads.

It was Friday night, and you were in your apartment, surrounded by all those people who would come to your wedding. You sent a list of names to Steve that afternoon, and, after what you assumed was a background check on all of them, he agreed that yes, these 15 people could actually come. And when he did, you called an emergency meeting at your apartment, using it both as a way of inviting them to the wedding and as a kind of bachelorette party, where all you wanted to do was to drink heavily, eat a disgusting amount of carbs and pass out around dusk. Safe to say, all of your friends had been in, and by the time it was 11 PM, you were all tipsy, and people started to dance. Some (ehm, ehm, Caroline) even on a table, which was hilarious to the rest of you.

The sadness came and went all evening, but you were determined not to let it ruin your night. So, every time you felt like it was creeping up on you again, you just told somebody and let them hug you until you were feeling better.

Then, somebody came up with the idea to play Never Have I Ever, and since the tequila still burned in your veins, you agreed immediately. And so the game started. You were roaring like a pride of lions, each answer louder than the previous ones, but the most fun arose from telling each other funny stories.

“Ok, so this one time I was blowing off my boyfriend, right? And you know how much I hate the taste of sperm, and he knows it as well, but this one time he really insisted on my swallowing, and so when he finally came, I squeaked and pointed somewhere behind him so that I could spit the cum to glass under the table, and when he turned around I showed him my mouth, void of any liquid, and he looked super proud,” your friend Naila laughed as she told the story to the question: never have I ever swallowed cum.

The night was flowing smoothly, and soon, you saw that it was getting somehow lighter outside. And, sure enough, when you looked out of the window, you saw that the sunrise was coming in mere minutes.

“Guys, guys! The sunrise is here. Let’s go to the roof to enjoy it,” you yelled even though half of the people were already fast asleep. The few of you who were still barely alive, which was around 5 of you, staggered towards the door and crawled up the stairs to the highest levels, and when you opened the last door, you had New York underneath you.

You were wasted and exhausted, but the sight poured new life into you as you watched the early orange rays shine on one building at a time, waking up the city that never slept. It was magical, and it took your breath away. You felt your worries melting away as you saw a new day coming, and you thought it was a new day with many possibilities and hopes for you. You had nothing to lose, and Steve proved to you that he would, indeed, take care of you if need be. All would be if you just played your part and learned enough about Steve to be able to escape his wrath.

The exhaustion then hit your body just as the ray hit your face, and you waved at the drunk group watching the sunrise, each of them in their own realm of thoughts, and soon enough, you sauntered back to your room, where you fell asleep just like the rest of the bachelorette party.

A piercing tone woke you up with a start, and, for a second, you didn’t even know where you were, what time it was, or even what fucking century it was. The throbbing in your head prevented your brain from functioning properly, and so you rummaged through the pile of clothes next to your bed, fishing for what was obviously your phone. Gosh, how you hated the ringtone, and you reminded yourself to just mute your phone altogether because then nothing like this could happen again.

You picked up without so much as looking at the screen and just sneered a harsh what into the speaker.

“Well, good morning to you too, honey,” you heard Steve’s smug voice and rolled your eyes so hard the pain in your head increased. “Is this the way to greet your future husband? I don’t fucking think so,” he continued, and a considerable part of you contemplated just hanging up on him and his annoyingly sexy voice.

“Steve, I have no fucking idea what time it is, but it’s definitely not time for you to call me and want me to be nice. Give me a few good hours of sleep, and then we can talk, ok?” You hoped this would do it, but from the silence on the other side, you assumed he wouldn’t let be just yet.

“What happened? Did your bachelorette party get a little out of hand, and you went to sleep only after sunrise?”

You gasped, shocked how he knew any of it, and for the first time, the fog in front of your brain lifted a little bit. You checked the time, and seeing it was only 9 AM, you assumed that asshole woke you up on purpose if he knew so much about your nightly activities.

“How the fuck-“

“Language!” He yelled suddenly, and you flinched at the intensity of his voice. “I know everything, and I told you I would have somebody keeping an eye on you at all times. You’re only lucky the guy sleeping next to you is gay, you’d be in so much trouble otherwise, honey,” Steve spat, and the only sound you could muster was a long huff, as you regretted ever being born.

“What do you want, Steve? If you know so much, you must know that I’m beat and all I wanna do is sleep, with a guy in my bed or without him. So, if you have something to tell me, please do, otherwise, have a good day, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun together, you and I, Y/N. I’m calling because I wanted to let you know that your room is prepared and ready for you and that your bodyguard will pick you up at exactly 8 PM, so don’t be late. Clint will also help you carry all things you need. I’ll send you his number so that you can be in touch with him. Oh, and honey? Take some aspirin and go to sleep, you sound like you need it,” even through the phone, you could hear him smirk as he hung up and let you on your own once again. Thank God.

“Who was it?” Aidan asked sleepily from the other side of the bed, and you just grumbled some response, not really sure if he understood what you meant, but when he hummed and patted your outstretched hand, you took it as yes, I understand you mean your future husband Steve Rogers, nice talk.

The phone signalled you received a text, and when you looked at it, it was your bodyguard’s phone number and a directive, telling you to go to sleep already, because the dark circles under your eyes didn’t suit you.

Oh, how you wanted to kill this man already. He got on your nerves more easily than anybody ever before, and for a brief moment, you wondered why he affected you so. You didn’t even know him, and you shouldn’t let him tossing you back and forth, but here you were, pissed because you could just imagine how proud he was of himself that he woke you up and told you what to do so many times in such a short call.

Sighing, you got up from the bed and went to check the window to see if you could spot the nosy bodyguard ratting on you to Steve. You needed to have a word with him because he just couldn’t go running to Steve every time you blinked.

Looking around the street, you tried to spot a strange vehicle, one that didn’t fit into the street you grew to know so well. And, sure enough, there was a large SUV, much like the one you had driven with Steve before, and you noticed that the windows were tilted. Since your apartment was on the first floor, anybody from the street had a great view right into your flat, and because you passed out totally exhausted, you didn’t have the time, nor did you remember to shut your blinds.

You huffed and shut them now, cursing Steve and his nosiness because he wasn’t making your life any easier, and you weren’t even married yet. The year in front of you would be annoying and difficult, but maybe it would make you feel alive again.

Shaking your head, you didn’t let the memories flood your brain as you strode back to your back, plopped on it belly-first and fell straight asleep.

“Are you sure it’s everything?” Aidan looked around your now half-empty room, except for the furniture that you knew you wouldn’t need. Steve promised to give you a furnished room, and you took his word for it, so you just took the essentials, like your clothes and sentimental stuff. Marie Condo would have been proud because you still managed to get rid of a few things that didn’t spark joy!

“Yeah, and even if I left something here, I could still come, you know? It’s not like I’m never seeing you or this place again. I’ll still be like a 30-minute ride away,” you smiled soothingly at him, but he just shook his head, obviously fighting all the emotions swirling in his heart.

“Alright, alright. No crying. I’ll call you guys when I’m all settled, and Steve actually lets me be by myself, and I’ll show you the room, ok?”

Both Aiden and Caroline nodded speechlessly and then pulled you in a group hug.

“You sure you wanna do it? We can still make it seem like we kidnapped you and take you somewhere to Mexico, or Argentina, or wherever he wouldn’t find you,” Caroline whispered, and you laughed through the tears fighting their way out of your eyes.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll see. We will all have so much fun, and before we know it, the year is over, and I’m back here with you guys, having lived a little,” you smirked, and they nodded reassuringly, not really sure if it really was the best way to live a life, but they didn’t want to push you again. Your heart was set, and they both knew there was nothing they could do now. Except, of course, really kidnapping you.

“Miss Y/L/N, we should go. The boss said we should be there at 9 PM at the latest, and I would prefer if we could be a little early,” Clint said professionally, but you could see that he was afraid of what would Steve do had you arrived late. You didn’t want to start this weird-ass journey by pissing your future husband or making him hurt his employees (you didn’t know whether he would actually do that, but just to be on the safe side, since he did cut off a guy’s finger a mere few days ago).

You nodded and stepped from your best friends, looking at them and smiling brightly. You didn’t want any teary goodbyes, so you just showed them thumbs up and followed Clint out of the door. You knew there would be some tears when you left but didn’t think they would come as early as on the first step from your apartment.

Fortunately, there weren’t that many steps to go before you were out of the building and rushed into the SUV by Clint. It was dark already, but you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you swiftly pulled out your sunglasses and put them on, not saying a word to Clint as he started the car and pulled it into New York’s night traffic. The lights around you were almost blinding, and for a moment, you were glad you had the glasses on, but then another wave of regret and sadness hit you, and you had a hard time keeping in the sobs. Scratching your arms, you stared out of the window and took a few calming breaths, telling yourself to get a grip because you were about to enter the lion’s den, and you couldn’t show them any emotions.

You knew Clint knew what was going on, but he was gentleman enough not to comment on it. Still, you needed to make sure he understood this little episode was just between the two of you.

“Can I ask you something, Clint?” You said suddenly and saw his eyes flickering between the road and the mirror, meeting your eyes for a moment.

“Of course, Miss Y/L/N. However, I should warn you, I am not allowed to give you certain information,” he said formally, and you nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, right. If I asked you to keep a little secret from your boss, would you keep it?” You asked and nibbled on your lower lip anxiously.

He seemed to have thought for a second before he nodded his head in a manner telling you that there were things Steve didn’t need to know. His eyes met yours again before he spoke up.

“I’m now your bodyguard, and if I think the information kept from the boss is in your best interest, then I won’t tell him anything. For example, you smiled all the way to the apartment, no tears and no sunglasses. Though, I think you should powder your nose and dry your face,” he smirked, and you laughed a little, nodding gratefully and doing exactly as he said.

The car stopped exactly as you put all the supplies back into your purse, and you had a feeling Clint took a longer route to Steve’s house just to give your face the time to dry up and calm down. Checking the time, you saw it was 10 minutes before 9 and saw the relief on Clint’s face when he realized the same thing.

“Alright, I will take you to the boss and then will get the boys to help with your things. We won’t go through anything, but if you need our help when you’re unpacking, all you have to do is text me,” Clint said, walking you to the door.

The man you met on your first night there was standing as a sculpture at the exact same spot, and you wondered if he ever moved from that hallway. He did move towards you, gesturing to your purse, but Clint’s hand stopped him mid-motion.

“She’s clean. I’ve been with her the whole time,” he said sternly and with authority, and when he saw the first man taking a breath to protest, Clint just gave him a chilling frown, and the man stepped down, hung his head in defeat and let you through.

“It’s not a problem, Clint; I could have shown him the purse, you know?” You almost whispered as you walked through the empty rooms and hallways with Clint by your side.

“They need to learn to respect you, Miss. You are, after all, marrying the boss very soon, and they need to understand that you are not a threat,” he gave you a curt nod, and you blushed a little. You didn’t know what it was, but the way Clint spoke to you with so much trust and respect already made you feel much better. You knew it would be an issue, so having somebody on your side was a huge relief already.

“Thank you, Clint, I really-“

“Well, happy you two are best buddies already! Are you gonna braid each other’s hair and do each other’s nails soon too?” A voice snapped you back to reality, a voice you already knew too well. Steve was leaning against a door, his face stoic despite the mocking tone of his voice. Clint obviously tensed next to you, mumbled some apology and scurried out of the room, leaving you with Steve.

You just looked at him and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Do you need to be like this?” You asked incredulously, not really understanding why he had to be such an ass when all you did was having some sort of conversation with one of his loyal men.

“Like what, honey? You seem to forget who I am and what I can do to you and your fucking life,” he sneered when he finally pulled away from the door and marched right in front of you.

Your arms fell from your chest as you stared at him, trying to figure him out. Which, considering he was a prolific mobster, wasn’t the easiest task at hand. But you tried nevertheless and poked to see where was all this coming from. He obviously needed to be in control of every situation, always the centre of attention, and, you realized, it was probably this that pissed him off. You walked in, not really paying attention to him standing by the door but carelessly talking to somebody else. But his attitude was another thing entirely.

“What do you want me to say, Steve? That I’m sorry I talked to somebody else and that it won’t happen again? You know it probably will, especially since you assigned Clint with the task of taking care of me and making sure I survive this year with you, which is really all he had done in the 40 minutes I have known him,” you reasoned, trying to sound confident but not pushy. You needed to show him that he couldn’t just toss you around like he might have thought. You didn’t expect him changing his attitude altogether for you, but you, at least, hoped he would go easy on you.

He was seething but also thinking; you could see his mind going in overdrive to come up with something snarky and mean. But you were quicker than him, once again.

“Will you be so kind and show me to my room? I would like to get settled in before we start talking about the wedding.”

“There will be no talk of a wedding. All you have to take care of is go tomorrow and pick your fucking dress. Everything else is being dealt with. I won’t need you tonight, so you can go and be by yourself till tomorrow,” he snapped and walked away without saying another word.

Great, now you felt like you were grounded, and all you did was talking with somebody nice to you. You shook your head disapprovingly and headed in a direction you thought might have been your room, but after taking a few turns, you weren’t even sure you were in New York anymore.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing here?” You heard from behind you, and before you knew what was happening, somebody pushed you forcibly against the nearest wall, pressing their elbow into your neck. You coughed, surprised, clawing at the man’s forearms and trying to let him loosen the press because it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” He yelled into your face, and you tried to tell him, but your voice wouldn’t come out. So, you just stared at him, tears filling your eyes before you heard a loud hey from somewhere behind you two and saw a man with long brown hair running towards you.

“Sarge, this woman was roaming around here. I think she is a spy,” the man still holding you said to the newly arrived guy, and all you could do was shake your head and tried to make yourself look as non-threatening as possible. Which wasn’t difficult considering you were in no position to be able to even defend yourself had the man decided to crush your trachea.

“Fucking idiot! That’s the boss’ bride! Let her go, you dickhead,” the man, sarge, growled, and you felt the pressure leaving your body. Which was all it took for you to collapse on the floor and start coughing uncontrollably, gripping your neck in your hands to protect it from any further disturbance.

“I-I, I didn’t know, Sarge! Don’t tell him. I thought she was some fucking spy. What the hell was she even doing here all alone, huh? It’s not my fucking fault she came sniffing around stuff that is none of her business,” the man tried to defend himself, but from the murderous gaze he received from the sergeant, he wasn’t very successful.

“Are you ok, Miss? Did he break anything? Is your head spinning? Are you feeling nauseous? Any of this?” He crouched down to your level and extended an arm to you, and you flinched instinctively, not feeling too sure who was your friend here and who wasn’t. So, to play it safe, nobody was your friend, and you’d be scared of them all, forever. Easy business.

The man saw your reaction and frowned even more but was persistent when he removed your hands from your neck to see an already-forming bruise alongside your throat.

“You need to talk to me, Y/N. Are you hurting anywhere?”

You coughed and grimaced because, yes, in fact, you did hurt and that all over the fucking neck and even your head. Which, given the man almost crushed your fucking throat with his elbow, wasn’t that surprising.

“I’ll be fine. And I wasn’t sniffing around; I was just looking for my room. I thought it might be somewhere here, and I would have asked if I saw anyone. But this place is like a fucking maze, and I was all alone,” you screeched, and the sergeant nodded and helped you to stand up. He was pulling out what looked like a phone, but you stopped him.

“Don’t call him, please. I’m fine. I just need to get to the room, so I can put some cold water on it, have a drink and go to sleep. Please,” you accentuated and saw the man weighing his options before he put the phone back to his pocket and nodded for you to follow him.

“I will tell him, just so you know. Steve needs to know about this, and we need to make sure you are introduced to the whole house the first thing in the morning so that this doesn’t happen again. But he needs to know. I will give you a few minutes to take it all in before I do call him, though,” he said with a resolution in his voice, and while you wanted to protest, you saw that it would have been to no avail. So, not saying another word, you let yourself in what was supposed to be your room and took it all in.

The walls were this very soft grey, which you actually preferred to the cold white you saw a lot all over the house. There was a king-sized bed against the main wall, framed with two bed-side tables and two matching white and gold lamps. There were many pillows on the bed and a plaid, grey and blue, throw as well, making it all feel very homey. You could see a large closet, where you could have easily fit ten times the amount of clothes you owned. The only other thing in the room was a table with a chair and some drawers, where you could picture yourself working and writing.

However, when you turned around, you saw something that caught your attention. An easel with a little table on wheels, on top of which was a palette where you could see yourself mixing colors left and right. You squealed, but the sound reminded you that you have just been assaulted and that you could admire the room later.

You took your time in the bathroom, inspecting your neck and hissing here and there when you touched it carefully. You knew the sarge was outside your door, probably counting in his head before he called Steve, and you were actually pretty surprised he wasn’t marching in already. Just when you thought of it, the door to your room flew open, and you heard Steve and the man talking (well, actually, more like yelling at each other).

“Where the fuck is she? I’m going to kill Drax. I swear to fucking God, man. How is it even possible that he does shit like this? They were all supposed to be briefed, for fuck’s sake. Imma have Sam’s ass as well for this. Fuck!” He yelled and kicked into something, which made you frowned, and you rushed out of the bathroom.

Steve spun around and almost ran towards you, cradling your face in his hands carefully and lifting your head so that he could have a clear view of the injuries. He was swearing under his breath, but you couldn’t help it and stare at him, wide-eyed. He was actually careful with you, sweet even as he took it all in, and when he was sure you wouldn’t die right there, he took a step back from you.

“Are you ok?” He asked after a moment, and all you could was just nod and stand there awkwardly, scratching your arms behind your back.

“Will you be able to find your room easier next time?”

“No, we took too many turns. But I won’t leave this room till morning anyway, and I will learn to stay out of the way very quickly, I promise,” you rushed to say, not really wanting to meet any of his crew alone again.

“You can’t be scared walking around here, honey. I will show you around right now, and I have already called an emergency meeting, and I want you there. This can never happen again,” he said gravely, and you understood this was probably his way of apologizing for something that wasn’t really all his fault. Well, he didn’t have to storm off and leave you there, nor did he have to scare Clint away, who was ready to show you to your room in the first place.

“Is it necessary, Steve? If I’m quite honest, I don’t feel too comfortable leaving the room right now,” you quipped, but Steve wasn’t listening anymore. He just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. Weirdly, you felt a little better having the skin-on-skin contact with him because, at least now, nobody would be stupid enough to attack you.

You tried to remember the way and took in the details that would make you not lose your trail again, such as the red vase on one of the tables in the corner that looked just like the corner two minutes ago, but the vase was something you could remember, so you took a mental note of that and other little things that would serve for your safety, obviously. Because when Steve told you people would want you dead, you sort of didn’t expect those people would be in the house with you.

You walked through the spacious kitchen and the adjacent dining room to find yourself in what looked like a meeting room, with around 20 men gathered and scattered all over the room.

When Steve finally stopped, he let go of your hand, but he instinctively reached for you and pulled you against his side. You looked at him in slight disbelief again but didn’t say anything as he stared in front of himself till the room was as quiet as a freaking church during a sermon.

“Let me make this very quick: however lays as much as a fucking finger on Y/N here, I will kill you, and I won’t give a fuck who you are. You were briefed that I’m getting married to the woman I want, and because somebody wasn’t paying attention to the fucking briefing, evidently, my fiancé is now sporting a black neck, which she will have to cover for our wedding. Drax, you and I will speak tomorrow, I was ready to kill you, but I’m a reasonable man, so I will sleep and think of your punishment then. Now, any questions?” He asked threateningly, and you knew even if somebody did have a question, nobody would dare to ask it now.

And just as you predicted, the room was as quiet as before, and Steve waved his hand so that everybody was dismissed and they could breathe again. Just not in his presence.

“Sam, you stay here,” Steve added when he saw one of his closest men leaving the room as well.

“I will deal with him, Steve. I don’t know how that could have happened, but it won’t ever again, I promise. If it does, you can have my head, man,” the bulky man said and smiled warmly at you.

“By the way, hi, I’m Sam. I’m like the muscles here, you know? So, if you need to pick something up, I’m your guy,” he said with a wink, and you chuckled but took his hand to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Sam, and I will remember that, thank you.”

“Alright, now, we have all the pleasantries behind us, you can go back to your room and go to sleep. And Y/N, if anybody as much as looks at you the wrong way, you tell me, ok? This marriage might not be a genuine one, but none of these assholes knows that or should care about that. They should protect you just like they protect me, and I don’t care what they say. I can’t have my fucking wife scared to walk these halls,” he was still frowning as he was saying all this to you, but you could see he was much more relaxed than when all the men were in the room. These two, the sergeant whose name you still didn’t know, and Sam, were obviously close to Steve because despite the winks Sam gave to you, Steve didn’t make a scene, nor did he give you the pointed looks when others were around. Still, you were on thin ice, and there was too much drama for one day for you to try and challenge him in any way.

“Ay ay, Captain,” you chuckled, and the corner of Steve’s mouth actually moved a little, so you took that as a good sign.

“Alright, I will try and get back to my room and call it a day because tomorrow is an important day! So, nice to meet you, gentlemen, and I will see you soon, I guess,” you waved at them awkwardly, and Sam waved back enthusiastically as you left the men to themselves.

“She is actually quite nice,” Sam summarized, and winked at Bucky, who just rolled his eyes at him in annoyance, having just enough of Sam’s antics for one day.

“Yeah, yeah, she actually is, when she’s not talking back and challenging every fucking thing I say,” Steve complained, and it was a turn for both men to roll their eyes at their best friend.

“Oh yeah, because you love when they’re meek and quiet, we forgot. C’mon, man, somebody fucking choked her today, and she was still standing here with her head held high, keeping it together like a fucking pro. I say she is perfect for you,” Sam said defensively when he saw the murderous stare from his friend/boss.

Good thing Sam didn’t see you in your room because as soon as you closed the door behind yourself, the tears just streamed down your face, and small sobs left your lips. You were glad the day was over and dreaded what the next day would bring.

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

An Ocean Away

Geraskier soulmate AU - A gift for my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde.

Words: 3.8k

CW: Big mutual pining, long distance friendships, and a lot of swearing, fucking the ocean is not advised...

Read on AO3

___________

Jaskier stared at his phone and sighed loudly. Geralt was still asleep and really Jaskier should be working but he missed him. How that was even possible he wasn’t sure, they’d never even met. Geralt was all the way across the other side of the fucking ocean. Jaskier hated it. The soul bond had snapped into place on Jaskier’s birthday. He’d waited up until midnight, shaking with excitement. He’d known there was a chance his soulmate was younger than him but he didn’t care, his soulmate would be worth the wait.

Luckily for him, Geralt was a couple of years older.

Unluckily for him, Geralt also lived in America.

He sighed again and thumped his head against his desk, earning a withered glare from his boss across the room. God, he really needed to get out of his job. He was an artist, a musician! He shouldn’t be stuck in an office inputting data.

‘Geralt….’ He called out mentally, hoping to reach his soulmate in his dreams but it was no use. Geralt was down for the count and probably wouldn’t wake up for several hours.

Instead, Jaskier sighed loudly for the third time and remembered their first conversation with a fond smile.

‘Helloooooo’ he called out, fidgeting with his bedsheets. ‘anybody there?’

‘What the fuck?’ a gruff response came and Jaskier could just about make out the image of some kind of restaurant if he focussed hard enough, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

‘You’re American?!’ he wanted to cry. He couldn’t afford to fly out to America, not unless he followed his sisters into the family business and regained access to the Bank of Dad.

‘Fuck.’

Ah so his soulmate was a man of many words. He grinned a flopped back onto his bed. ‘I’m Jaskier, by the way, I’m from England.’

‘I’m at work, can this wait?’ his soulmate growled.

Jaskier’s heart sank. ‘Right, yes, yes… of course. I umm… well I need to go to sleep. I’m bloody exhausted. Wake me up when you’re finished?’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt hadn’t managed to wake him up. Although he still maintained to this day that he’d yelled out as much as he could without actually yelling aloud, and Jaskier had slept through the whole damn thing. Geralt’s mind was pretty quiet. He didn’t often project his thoughts unless they were actively conversing. Jaskier on the other hand kept up a steady stream of thoughts, showing Geralt the pretty flowers that he saw on the way to work, or humming new songs just for his soulmate to hear, anything that he thought Geralt might find interesting.

He pressed the home button on his phone again. Barely five minutes since the last time he’d checked. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet, let alone time for Geralt to wake up. He hoped they’d have time to video chat before Geralt had to go to work that evening but he was pretty sure that his soulmate was on an early shift. He groaned, and reluctantly started angrily jabbing at his keyboard. The endless stream of emails and shitty clients were not helping his mood. Why couldn’t Geralt be on a closing shift? At least then they’d be able to talk properly before Jaskier had to go to sleep.

“Would you stop being so pathetic, Julian?” Valdo sneered from the desk opposite Jaskier’s.

“You’re just angry because your soulmate hasn’t made contact yet,” Jaskier snapped back.

They were both twenty-four and Valdo’s soulmate was either ignoring him or was still underage. Jaskier almost pitied the man; almost.

“Just get on with your work, Julian and stop clock watching.”

Jaskier muttered a few rather inappropriate for work words under his breath and turned back to his computer. He managed to get one whole email dealt with before losing focus again. He shifted in his seat so he could sit cross-legged on the chair, and then tried again. After another few emails his feet started to tingle.

“Oh bollocks,” he whined and jumped off the chair, hopping around the office.

“For god’s sake, Julian!”

“My name… is Jaskier!” He snapped “and I’ve got bloody pins and needles!”

‘Jaskier?’ Geralt’s voice was bleary and slurred in his mind.

He squeaked and promptly fell on his arse, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from grinning madly. “Geralt’s awake!” he announced to the office.

“Take your lunch early,” Tissaia sighed “God only knows you won’t get anything else done until you’ve spoken to Geralt.”

Jaskier beamed at his boss. Fuck he could kiss her. She was so understanding and wonderful and…

And he still hadn’t responded to Geralt!

‘Geralt, darling, hello!’ he trilled happily in his mind, spinning his chair around so he was sitting backwards.

‘Are you ok?’ Geralt hummed ‘Felt angry.’

Jaskier squeaked, unable to contain the swell of love in his chest. God damn it he just wanted to hug Geralt. It wasn’t fair. Priscilla and Essi had only lived two towns away from each other. Triss had grown up with Yennefer, and yet Jaskier was stuck with a soulmate on the other side of the fucking planet.

‘Fuck the ocean,’ he grumbled

He heard Geralt’s laughter, echoed with a phantom feeling of mirth that wasn’t his own. ‘Fuck the ocean’ he agreed.

‘I’m moving to America, I’m going to invent portals and I am never letting you go,’ Jaskier sighed.

Geralt hummed again. He was tired, Jaskier could feel it. ‘Go back to sleep, darling.’

‘When’s your lunch break over?’

‘I have half hour.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Jaskier smiled dopily at his phone. There was a picture of Geralt and his horse, Roach, on the lock screen. He unlocked it quickly to check his clock app. He knew the timezone difference by heart at this point but he still needed to check. It was a habit that he had yet to break. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Jaskier felt like crying. He just wanted to hold his soulmate. He wanted to know whether that love was platonic or romantic or what? He just… he knew he would love Geralt with every fibre of his being, and would be happy no matter what. That’s how soulmates worked after all. They were your match, and not everyone’s match was romantic.

Oh but how he yearned. He was pathetic.

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too’ Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt an ache through the bond that wasn’t his. He smiled sadly. He wasn’t the only one being pathetic.

They fell silent, Jaskier gazing longingly at his lock screen, trying desperately not to fall apart in the middle of his office. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe he should just quit his job and move to America. His soulmate was American so he wouldn’t have to worry about visas as long as he could prove Geralt was his. He just….

“Fuck,” he groaned and buried his head in his arms. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and there was a lump caught in his throat. “Sorry, Tissaia. I’m, I’m, well, I’m going for a walk.”

He practically launched out of his chair towards the door. Not even bothering to grab his coat. He closed his eyes and reached out to Geralt, feeling a phantom embrace as Geralt reached back. It wasn’t as good as a real hug but no real hug could soothe the ache of having to live so far apart from his soulmate.

‘Jask?’

Jaskier practically ran away from his office, down the road towards the woodland that surrounded the campus. His hands were pulling at his hair and he muttered nonsense under his breath. He counted every step that took him away from the building. He liked to imagine that every step brought him closer to Geralt but really he wasn’t entirely sure.

‘I miss you,’ he hummed again. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ve never even met… six years Geralt! Fuck it, fuck this shit, fuck this job,’ he kicked at the ground. ‘I don’t even want to work in an office. It was supposed to be temporary.’

‘Then quit?’

Jaskier snorted. ‘I can’t afford it.’

His father’s face flitted in front of him. He could afford it if only he weren’t so bloody stubborn. He could work in his father’s company and he could go to America to see Geralt. Why couldn’t he just accept that? Why was he insisting on making his own way?

‘Jaskier, no. It’s not worth it,’ Geralt’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket. ‘Don’t compromise on your dreams for me.’

‘But I love you!’ he whined pitifully.

‘I know and I love you too, but you’ll only resent me.’

Jaskier huffed and slid to the ground, his back resting against a tree. He rest his forehead on his knees and began to cry. Soulmates weren’t supposed to live apart for this long, it was too taxing on both parties but destiny had been cruel to them. He sobbed helplessly, his body shuddering as he dug his nails into the grass, tearing up chunks and throwing them away.

It was only when he heard his phone ring that he managed sort of pull himself out of it. He wiped his eyes and peered at the phone.

Geralt.

Of course it was, Geralt. His soulmate was video calling him. He swiped the screen to pick up and sniffed loudly. He didn’t need to sniff as loudly as he did, and he didn’t need to pout pathetically at the screen as he picked up… but he was sad and dramatic. He wanted extra sympathy points from Geralt.

“Hi,” he whined, still pouting and widening his eyes slightly for added effect. Geralt’s room was dark, just a small light turned on just out of the camera. It was a shame because he couldn’t ogle the other man quite as much as he would normally like.

Still, Geralt looked adorable. Stubble was starting to grow on his cheeks and his hair was a mess, falling in front of his eyes like rays of moonlight. “Hi.”

“I love you,” Jaskier whined as if he hadn’t already told Geralt that a hundred times today already.

Geralt, the bastard, just laughed at him. “I know, love.”

“I know. I know… but… I love you?”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Jaskier still hadn’t managed to work out whether Geralt’s eyes were really that colour or whether it was just some trick of the light. In all the photos and video calls they looked golden, but Jaskier had never met anyone with golden eyes before. He hadn’t even realised it was possible. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Then again, he’d seen Eskel and Lambert, Geralt’s brothers, and they also had the same molten gold eyes.

Between Yennefer and Geralt’s family, Jaskier felt very plain. He was attractive enough but in such a normal way, nothing compared to Geralt’s silvery hair that made him look like he’d been blessed by the spirits of winter, and his swirling amber eyes that blazed like the sun, and then Yennefer with her locks of raven hair and piercing violet eyes.

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. God, why was he surrounded by such beautiful people. Brown hair, blue eyes and a dead end job.

“Hey?” Geralt’s gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re important to me.”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t entirely sure what emotions he’d been channeling through their bond but it was obviously enough for Geralt to be concerned. “I love you.”

Geralt tilted his head at the camera and smiled fondly, it was obscured by the darkness and the terrible quality of Geralt’s phone camera but it still managed to melt Jaskier’s heart. Stupid, dumb, soulmate. Why did he have to live in America?

“I have a plan?” Geralt said quietly, looking around his room and not meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

“A plan?”

“The restaurant I work at has live music nights,” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier frowned. He already knew that. Geralt had mentioned it before. Normally when he was complaining about the quality of the music. Jaskier adored him for that. He loved to judge other people’s music, and he rather smugly loved the way Geralt had only ever said nice things about his own songs.

“Right?” he asked slowly, not quite understanding where Geralt was going with this.

“I spoke to Dad,” Geralt paused, licking his lips. Jaskier swallowed. It wasn’t fair. How could one man be so unreasonably attractive? He tucked at the sleeves of his jumper whilst he waited for Geralt to finish his thought. The cuffs had holes in and were fraying but it was soft and made the work day more bearable. If he gave a shit about his job he might wear nicer clothes but he’d rather be comfortable.

“Vesemir?” Jaskier prompted gently.

“He could help pay for the flights, a loan and we’ll have to pay him back,” Geralt mumbled, still not making any sense. “My apartment isn’t very big but you’re welcome to share until you find your own place? If you want your own place. I’m not making assumptions. I don’t expect you to share just because we’re soulmates but it would be cheaper and the restaurant wouldn’t be able to pay that much at first. You’d be playing music for a living though, and I know that’s what you really want to do,” Geralt cut himself of with a sharp sniff, letting out a low snarl. “Actually forget it, it’s a stupid idea.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s heart was racing. It almost sounded like Geralt was asking him to move to America? More than that, his own family was offering to help pay for the flights that neither of them could afford on their own.

“I said forget it,” the phone snapped off and the screen went blank but Geralt was his soulmate and it wasn’t quite that easy to runaway.

‘I don’t want to forget it,’ Jaskier told him, trying to push all the love he had for Geralt through the bond. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you, Geralt?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Geralt,’ he admonished gently. ‘I can’t quit my job on a maybe.’

‘Yes.’

Jaskier grinned. ‘I’ll resign after lunch.’

Jaskier had been tempted to just grab his bag and leave the office for good, but Tissaia had been good to him. She’d put up with his moping for the last three years and even allowed him flexible lunch breaks so he could talk to Geralt when he was awake. Not all bosses would be so forgiving. So he worked his notice. She hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when he announced his plans, if fact she seemed more surprised that it had taken so long to make the plans. He supposed most soulmates did move to be closer at the first available opportunity and he’d been pining over Geralt for six long years.

Valdo had been his usual grumpy self, sneering that Jaskier hadn’t been able to cope with the job, but there was something in his eyes, a sadness that Jaskier hadn’t expected. They had known each other since university and their rivalry was almost an act these days, but he’d thought that Valdo would be pleased to see the back of him.

His friends organised a wonderful goodbye party for him. Yennefer pulling out all the stops to make sure he had the best send off. If it weren’t for the pull of Geralt and his soulmate, he’d almost be tempted to stay. England had been his home since he was born and his life was there, his friends were there.

But Geralt was not.

And there was the promise of a career in music on the other side of the pond. It was too much to resist. So Jaskier packed up his flat. He pack a rucksack full of his favourite clothes and picked up his guitar.

Then he drove to the airport, leaving England behind for good. The flight had been almost unbearable. It was long and cramped. He spent most of the time wittering to Geralt, not that his soulmate had responded much. The lucky bugger had been asleep whilst Jaskier tried desperately to block out the noise of screaming children. At one point he started singing a popular Disney tune to try and calm the children but it had only made them more excitable and he’d earned several disapproving glares from their parents. He’d been more than relieved when the plane started its final descent towards the airport.

And then the nerves kicked in.

Six years of talking through their bond, text or video call…

What if Geralt realised he didn’t like Jaskier once they met in person?

Surely some soulmates didn’t get along. Not everyone could be that lucky… could they?

He was currently waiting for his guitar case to come round the carousel and he was panicking. He should have packed more clothes. He should have brought more belongings. He should have, he should have, he should have.

‘Jaskier!’ Geralt called and the effect was instantaneous. The tension melted from his shoulders and his fingers relaxed by his side.

‘Sorry,’ he shot back ‘just nervous.’

He’d feel a lot calmer once he had his guitar strapped to his back and Geralt in his arms. He chewed anxiously as he followed the pieces of the luggage belt with his gaze. He’d always enjoyed watching the way they shifted around as they trailed like a conga line around the airport terminal. His eyes kept flickering to the entrance of the carousel where luggage was pushing through the large rubber drapes.

“Come on,” he muttered, hopping from one foot to another.

The anxiety began to rise again with each new suitcase that wasn’t his guitar, but he could feel Geralt’s presence warm and constant in the back of his mind. It was stronger now. He’d not expected that. No one had told him that the bond would be stronger with less distance between them. They could already communicate perfectly well from across the world but now he could almost feel Geralt’s heartbeat in harmony with his own, he could feel each breath that Geralt took if he focussed on it. He could even smell the stale scent of coffee from the shop that Geralt was waiting in.

It was almost too much, overwhelming.

He could have had six more years of this if he hadn’t been a coward.

He was so caught up in the new sensations of their soul bond that he almost missed his guitar case travelling along the belt. He squeaked and had to push passed a family that was blocking his way. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, umm, excuse me!” he yanked the guitar from the belt and ran to the nearest bench. He unzipped the case quickly and inspected his precious instrument.

There wasn’t even a scratch!

He laughed brightly and hugged the instrument to his chest. One thing down, one to go. Next stop… Geralt!

He zipped up the case, flinging it onto his back along with his rucksack and then ran as fast as he could through the airport. It gained him a few strange looks but he was done. He’d had enough of waiting. He stumbled a few times as the case fell down his arm but he was persistent. He bustled through the last security check with nothing to declare and then he was free.

“Geralt!!” He yelled, scanning the sea of people for a shock of silver hair.

He saw himself through Geralt’s eyes and turned on his heels until he spotted his soulmate gazing back at him with open arms. He was here. Geralt was here. He stopped frozen to the spot for a second whilst the world seemed to slow to a halt.

Geralt.

In the flesh.

And he could hug him.

“Oh fuck,” tears were already falling down his face, a waterfall of emotions. “Geralt.”

The only word he had left, echoing through the bond, and then he was running again. His bag and guitar case dropping to the floor just in front of Geralt as Jaskier leapt. His arms flung around Geralt’s neck and his legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist. Geralt’s hands supported his weight with ease as Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck, one of Geralt’s hands threading into his hair. God, he even smelled divine. That just wasn’t fair.

“I love you,” Geralt murmured in his ear.

The first words he heard his soulmate say in person, and fuck. If he hadn’t already been crying then that would have pushed him over the edge. He was a complete mess but he’d never been happier. He was here, with Geralt. He sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder until his soulmate lowered him gently to the floor. His legs felt weak and Geralt had to keep his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s middle to stop him from falling to the floor. Fingers brushed his cheek, wiping away some of the tears.

“Hey?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt through a sea of tears. “Hi,” he laughed weakly. “I love you.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s “I love you too, fuck… I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jaskier laughed. “Holy fuck, I’m actually here, and you’re here, and the world hasn’t fallen apart. Oh bloody hell, stop fucking crying, Jask!” he snapped, pulling away from Geralt just enough so he could wipe his face. He smiled sheepishly and gazed at his soulmate through his eyelashes. If it weren’t for the bloody ocean on his face, then he would have tried to be seductive, but that ship had long sailed. “Can… can I kiss you?”

Geralt’s ridiculously gorgeous and actually golden eyes softened. He nodded, hand still cupping Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier almost fainted on the spot. He hadn’t been expecting Geralt to agree but he was too weak not to ask. He couldn’t even close the gap to finally kiss his soulmate, too stunned that Geralt even wanted it. Luckily Geralt still had his wits about him. A rough calloused finger stroked Jaskier’s cheek and then they were kissing.

It was magical. He felt everything, and more. Geralt’s lips on his, Geralt’s love in his heart and his own love weaving into the fabric of Geralt’s soul. It felt so strange, after all this time to actually be here. If the emotions weren’t quite so intense then he’d almost think he was dreaming.

‘I love you’ one of them sighed happily as their lips moved together, breaths mingling, souls completely entangled.

I love you, I miss you, I want you, I love you…. The thoughts never stopped as they clung to each other in the middle of a shitty airport terminal.

It was the end of Jaskier’s life as he knew it, and the beginning of a new life with Geralt by his side.

#the witcher #geraskier #soulmates au #soulmates #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

Note

So I got artificial for the word generator and thought of a scenario where Kiyo, Kiibo and Ryoma's s/o gets killed and leaves behind an alter ego they made. Idk if that makes sense sorry if it doesn't.

Oh this makes perfect sense!! Thanks for the angst! (ya’ll better strap in bc these HURT to write)

............

Korekiyo

The anthropologist tried keeping calm during the trial, but all throughout it..he was shaken up, unable to compliment the “beauty” of finding out the killer’s motivations.

Because it was you who became the victim--his beloved who promised to travel the world with him when all of this was over.

He lost his composure as soon as the culprit was identified, screaming why you were taken from this world so quickly. Not even Sister could calm him down; he couldn’t bear listen to her speak of how you were only “getting in the way”.

How dare she speak ill of you?!

You’ve pulled him out of the darkness, his own madness..and showed him the true beauty of love

And yet..the culprit took that love away from him overnight.

If it was up to him, he would’ve given them a fate worse than death. But he knew he couldn’t interfere, so he watched their execution with a solemn smile behind his mask. And he left the trial room with an aching heart.

Were you watching over him from the afterlife? He could only hope so.

He laid in bed, wide awake for hours, wondering why things had to turn out this way. Maybe..he could speak to your spirit. He had all the books he could ever want in his lab. Surely there’s some way he can hear your sweet voice again..

Though right as he sat up, the Monokubs pad on the table beside him suddenly lit up. "Huh? How strange..” Then he reached over to grab it, and what he saw on the screen made him gasp:

It was you, but..in a small pixelated form. As though you were trapped in some video game.

“Oh! It worked! Thank goodness..it was tricky bypassing the programming on this tablet but-”

He heard your voice, and he felt his heart soar as he smiled. “Oh, [y/n]! Y-You’ve returned to me!”

“Ah, Korekiyo. I’m sorry but..I’m not exactly [y/n].” Your avatar spoke regrettably. “I’m an alter ego they made, a..digital avatar with their personality programmed into me. There’s nothing supernatural about what you’re witnessing.”

“...oh, I see..” The joy he felt was swiftly taken from him as he propped up the tablet, hugging himself. “So the reality is..my d-dearest [y/n] is truly gone forever. I can only hope they’re watching over me, wherever they are-”

As his voice broke into a sob, tears dripped down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric of his sleeping mask. “It’s just not fair...i-it wasn’t their time yet! Why them?! Why-?!!”

“I’m here, though! So technically..my creator is watching over you.” You remarked, hoping your words could calm him down in some way. “Please don’t cry. When the time comes, I’m sure you’ll be with them again, Kork.”

Korekiyo immediately tensed at the familiar nickname, saving him from yet another breakdown.

To hear this AI say that with your tone of sweetness, even though it wasn’t actually you, made him realize...you’ve created something truly beautiful thanks to your Ultimate.

With a quiet sniffle, he reached over, gently stroking the screen with a bandaged finger. “Oh, [y/n]...I suppose I was wrong about technology corrupting humanity’s beauty.” He laughed softly. “Forgive me for misjudging you.”

..........

K1B0

Losing Miu was painful enough. But for you to be gone, too?

K1B0 swore he was about to shutdown when he saw your body, cold and lifeless.

In the trial that followed, he spoke the least..still unable to come to terms with the fact somebody killed you--the one person who showed him what “love” was for the first time in his life.

It was a truly wonderful human emotion...and just like that it was taken from him.

Miu might’ve given him new tools like flashlight eyes, but you’ve upgraded him to feel more emotions, particularly sadness and love. And he experienced true sadness when he cried real tears and demanded the culprit to explain their actions--he didn’t even care for Kokichi’s mocking anymore.

Since then, he just couldn’t stop crying as he left the Shrine of Judgment and went to his lab.

An hour before you were brutally murdered, you told him you were working on a special project, installing an AI of yourself onto his Monokubs pad. You used some of the technology from his lab, and left it in there for him to find later.

If finding this AI meant he could talk to you again...then he’ll go for it.

With a quiet whimper, K1B0 dragged himself into the lab, spotting the tablet not too far away. As he picked it up, it activated, and before long a small pixelated version of you appeared on it.

“Hello? Can you hear me K1B0?”

“[Y/n]...I-I...” Warm, salty tears streamed down his face once more as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the tablet. “No..y-you aren’t them. They’re gone..you’re their..s-secret project, right?”

“Indeed, I’m Alter Ego [Y/n]!” Your avatar nodded. “I thought you’d be happier to see me, but..now that I’m aware of what has transpired..that no longer seems to be the case.”

“N-No. I’m..I’m happy I found you. I just don’t..understand why I’m crying if I’m happy.” He muttered, looking at the screen. “I suppose..I’m on my own now with these new emotions.”

“Crying doesn’t always have to come from sadness, it can come from any overwhelming feeling, even from the happiness you’re experiencing.”

“...huh? How do you..?”

“I’ve been pre-programmed with vast knowledge of human emotions--in the event my creator isn’t...available to explain them to you.” You seemed sad for a moment, but your avatar perked up. “But as an AI, I’m still learning new things everyday so..we can sort through these feelings together!”

“That’s...true.” K1B0 managed to calm down, a smile on his tearstained face. “I failed to protect [y/n], but..I promise I will do my very best to protect you, Alter Ego [Y/n].”

.........

Ryoma

Seeing your body get devoured by the piranhas until nothing but bones remained was traumatizing enough...

But to later learn that the culprit drowned you and tried to pin the crime on Himiko by putting your body in that piranha tank?! That absolutely destroyed Ryoma.

How cruel and ironic was it that you--someone who had everything to live for--became the next victim while he--someone who had next to nothing to live for--survived this trial?

Everyone was shocked as the ex-tennis pro suddenly broke down when asked about his alibi, trying to convince them all he killed you and dismissing the obvious evidence that he couldn’t have done it.

You died in his lab, right? Therefore he knocked you out. He handcuffed you. He drowned you in the sink-

But..he gave up after failing to explain to Shuichi how he could’ve gotten your body from his lab to the gym. And since his hands showed no evidence of rope burns...he couldn’t have done it at all.

Despite trying to lead everyone to the wrong answer, nobody blamed him for lashing out that way.

Even after Kirumi confessed and was executed....Ryoma could only leave the trial room in utter distraught.

You were gone and never coming back--just like everyone else in his life.

He was inconsolable as he returned to his dorm, crying the moment he shut the door and locked it. “D-Damnit all! Just when I thought..things would be different this time....” Clutching his beanie, he curled up on the bed, not wanting to wake up ever again.

The despair he felt was extreme; the kind that...made him want to d-

However, he noticed his Monokubs pad lighting up, halting his train of thought. In confusion, he grabbed it, wondering why it suddenly started up. But he nearly dropped it as he saw who was on the screen:

“Hey..can you hear me?”

“Wh..[y/n]?!!”

“Ah! It worked!” Sure enough, you were on the screen, though you looked like a digital avatar of some sort. “My creator..are they around?”

“...so it’s not you.” Ryoma sighed, feeling crushed once more. “Y-You were..really killed.”

“...oh, I see.” Your avatar mumbled in sadness. “I’m a digital recreation of them--Alter Ego [Y/n]. They created me in case anything were to happen--n-not that they thought they were gonna die, but because they loved you a lot and didn’t want you to feel alone.”

"This is what they’ve been doing in their lab all this time?” He was surprised, though at the same time..he knew you had remarkable programming skills thanks to your Ultimate.

“Good news is I managed to delete your motive video. They were very concerned about it. So it’s just me on here! And...I’ll do my best to give you a reason to live, Ryoma. That...was my creator’s first and final request. I may not be them, but I’ll try to.....Ryoma?”

Your avatar noticed him crying again, though when he looked at the screen, there was a small smile on his face.

It was true that you were gone forever, and that he’ll never be able to hug you, kiss you, or tell you how many times you’ve saved his life.

But as long as you lived on within this “alter ego”...perhaps he could live on, too.

#clanask #anonymous #danganronpa x reader #drv3 #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo shinguji x reader #k1b0 #k1b0 x reader #ryoma hoshi #ryoma hoshi x reader #tw death #tw suicide mention #danganronpa spoilers #one word prompt

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

Could I please request Diego Hargreeves with prompts "Make sure to tell me if you get worried, or nervous, or claustrophobic, or-” and "You can hold onto me if you’re scared, you know?” ! ♥️ Maybe if the reader has bad generalized anxiety and Diego is like a puppy to them when he senses they're feeling off? Thank you thank you!!

A/N: I hope this works, darling. Since I don’t have generalized anxiety I could only guess at the feeling. Also, when isn’t Diego like a puppy? Word Count: 1622 Content Warnings: anxiety, self-doubt

“I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of this,” you complained.

Your best friend, Allison, gave you a disbelieving look.

“It’s not like I haven’t done this before,” you continued. “In fact, I’ve been dating your brother for a year now.”

“And it’s been six months for him since he’s seen you...this you,” she rolled her eyes. “I just think tonight should be special. You both deserve it.”

Worry flickered in your eyes and you bit your lip at the reminder of everything that Diego, that all of the Hargreeves had been through that you could never truly understand: two apocalypses, being trapped in the 1960s, coming back to find that they hadn’t existed or at least not in the lives they were used to, having to set it all right. Part of you wondered if after all of that, Diego would still be the same man you loved, if he would still love you.

“No, no no no,” Allison said warningly, standing up and taking your shoulders in her hands. “Do not go there, Y/N. Do not work yourself up over things that aren’t even true. I have never seen Diego so excited as he was talking about your date tonight. So whatever horrible ‘he hates me’ thoughts you’re having, get them out of your head.”

You groaned, wanting to tell her that it didn’t work like that, that even when you logically knew, it didn’t stop anxiety from sending your thoughts spiralling out of control into the darkest of places. But you had had this argument before, and knew not to waste your breath, or you’d end up in a fight with your friend and she’d offer (threaten?) to rumor it all away. She meant well, she just didn’t understand.

So instead you plastered on a smile and tried to pretend that everything was all right. “Fine. The red dress or the blue?”

In an effort to make up for the six months he felt he’d missed out on with you (even though to you, that time never existed), Diego had planned a rather elaborate date on this particular evening: dinner at a fancy restaurant, a movie, and dancing. You weren’t sure quite how he expected to pack it all in, or why he had chosen those activities when normal dates were more often picnics in the park or getting dinner after one of his boxing matches, but he was excited, and you didn’t want to bring him down with your questions or concerns.

Diego’s wide smile as you greeted him at the door was enough to make it all worth it. Not needing words, he leaned in to kiss you tenderly and you felt yourself melting into his touch.

“The restaurant is pretty close, so I thought we could walk?” he said, pulling away sooner than you would have liked. (Then again you could have stayed there, just kissing him, all night and it wouldn’t have been enough.)

You nodded, grabbing your coat and keys from the side table and stepping out to join him.

Dinner was fine. As in it was a fine dining restaurant and you felt out of place in the fancy white and gold decorated room, especially after catching the slight sneer on the waiter’s face when you told him the “house white” would do.

The two of you made small talk, just as you normally would on a date. You caught him up on the mundane occurrences at your office, the gossip around the neighborhood. He nodded and smiled and asked all the right questions before switching to his own story of the goings on at the gym. Despite your curiosity, you pointedly avoided the subject you most wanted to ask about, his time in the sixties, knowing that it was a raw topic and hoping he’d tell you in his own time. It all seemed perfectly normal for the pair of you, which only made you more nervous somehow, worried that you were boring him, and this out of character date was an attempt to get you to be more exciting before he just gave up.

Later on in the theater you settled into your seat, thankfully unencumbered by snacks since you had just eaten dinner, and waited for the movie to start. You weren’t even sure what you were going to see, and the awareness made you feel fidgety and nervous as the lights dropped down.

“You can hold onto me if you’re scared, you know?” Diego teased softly, lacing his fingers through yours and catching your grimace at the loud, dramatic opening music to the movie.

But while it was a suspense-thriller, it wasn’t fear you were feeling. Or at least not that kind, and holding on to him was exactly your concern. This date wasn’t your style, or what you thought was his, and as it dragged on you felt more and more miserable as your mind leapt to horrible conclusions.

Maybe Patch used to love this kind of movie. Maybe he had met a girl in the sixties that enjoyed ceviche and thirty-dollar salmon burgers and knew enough about wine to actually select one off a menu. Maybe he was staying with you because it was familiar, but you weren’t really what he wanted. Maybe you were just second best because he lost first.

Your palm felt sweaty against his and your throat squeezed painfully. You tried to focus on the events unfolding on the screen, rather than the terror racing through your mind and body, not noticing the way Diego watched you with concern.

Two hours later, you stumbled out of the theater, eyes burning from the lights of the lobby and from the tears you were holding back the whole time. You prayed that Diego didn’t ask for your thoughts on the movie, because you had no idea what had happened.

Diego seemed to sense that something was wrong, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm protectively around you as you walked further into town, toward the club where he intended to take you dancing. Since when had he liked dancing, other than in the kitchen or living room, clumsily along to the radio.

“When we get there, make sure to tell me if you get worried, or nervous, or claustrophobic, or-” he started.

“Diego, stop,” you snapped, everything you were feeling finally spilling over in the form of annoyance.

“What? What is it baby?” he turned to you, face almost as anxious as you had felt all night. “I just want to make sure you’re alright and comfortable and...I know how your anxiety get sometimes and how crowds overwhelm you.”

“If you know that, why did you plan to go dancing at a crowded club?”

He shrugged, scuffing his foot along the ground and mumbling something.

“And please don’t tell me it’s to make up for lost time or whatever. Because I didn’t lose any time, and whatever you did, it wouldn’t have been doing these things. Fancy dinners and dancing has never been us.”

Tears started to roll down your cheeks.

“If I’m boring you after everything you’ve been through or something please just tell me Diego.”

Horror and pain flashed across his expression and he immediately turned to face you, hands resting on your upper arms.

“Y/N. No. No I couldn’t…” he cried, shaking his head. “I love you. I just...I dunno, I wanted to do something special to show you how I felt and I figured since she’s your best friend that Allison would be able to help and she planned this all and…”

You laughed. You should have known. Her excitement, her insistence that tonight be special for both of you, as if it was a first date not a fortieth or however many it had been. It all made sense.

He frowned, puzzled expression suggesting that he thought you might have snapped.

“Allison planned a date for Allison, not for you and I,” you finally managed with a roll of your eyes. “I love her, and you’re right that she’s my best friend, but you should never have trusted her.”

“I’m going to kill her,” he groaned.

“She meant well. But god, I’ve spent all night worried that this was a weird, elaborate break-up or that I was second best to some other girl who liked this stuff or…”

Diego pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Never.”

You couldn’t hold in your sob anymore, pressing your face into his chest and he ran one hand soothingly through your hair while the other stayed firm around you.

“Honestly, I was nervous that I was ruining everything, or that even though we restored the timeline you were different, when you didn’t seem to be having fun. I should have known. I know you and I just was so wrapped up in it that I missed the signs. I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

You shook your head, pulling back to look at him. “No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t communicating.”

“Are you okay now?” he studied you, concern plain in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I think so. But...can we go home?”

He nodded, gently brushing away your tears and planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, that one I can manage without screwing up.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist as you walked, leaning into him.

“You didn’t screw up, Diego.”

“I made you cry on a date. I think that’s a screw up,” he argued, draping his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” you rolled your eyes. “I love you, you stupid, stubborn man.”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “I love you too, Y/N.”

#anxiety tw #self-doubt #self-deprecation #a little angsty but ending in fluff #Diego Hargreeves x reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #I hope this satisfies Nonny #thank you for the request

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hippityhoppitygetofmyproperty · 4 years

Text

My Heart Skips a Beat

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil

Ships: LAMP

Trigger Warnings: Unnamed heart condition, Improper medical stuff, Hospitals, Talk of death, Surgery mention, Food mention, Crying (I think that’s it, let me know if I need to add any!)

Genre: Hurt / Comfort

Word Count: 2032

Universe: Human AU

Ao3 link

This is based off of an outline that I saw that I wanted to flesh out. I cannot re-find that outline to give proper credit so please let me know If you know what outline I’m talking about! Anyways, hope you enjoy whatever this turned out to be!

(edit: The outline belongs to @teacupfulofstarshine, give some love to this beautiful person!)

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

When they first started a relationship together, they knew about Patton.

Patton had a heart condition since birth that limits what he can do. But, since he’s had the condition since birth, he knew his limits. His family hoped he knew his limits after passing out and getting rushed to the hospital in middle school. He always told his close friends about it, mainly so they don’t push him too far.

Luckily, his 3 closest friends became his boyfriends.

They would always worry if he was okay, Virgil worrying the most. Whenever he would start to get a little dizzy doing something, Virgil would start asking questions making sure he was okay, Roman would scoop him up princess style and find the nearest seat, and Logan would start checking over him. That didn’t happen very often though, Patton wouldn’t let them worry that much.

Until it did start happening more. It turned from rarely ever to almost weekly, while doing small things like their evening strolls that didn’t bother him before. They were wall worried about him, Patton was worried about himself. Now, he was standing at the kitchen counter booking an appointment with his doctor.

“Does Friday work for you?” The kind lady on the phone asked.

“Yes, that sounds perfect.” He replied, his tone somehow even despite how scared he was.

“Alright, we’ll see you then. Have a nice day, Mr.Baker.”

“You too.” He hung up the phone and released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Why must this happen? He has a good family, he has his boyfriends, why must his heart ruin it? It was then he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist.

“How are you doing, love?” Came Logan’s voice from behind.

“I’m fine, I’m just nervous.” He said as he gave way into the hug, the contact being a nice comfort while he dealt with this situation.

“We all are, to be honest.” His grip tightened on Patton. “Hey, Roman and Virgil are laying out blankets so we can have a movie session.”

“That sounds great.”

Logan led Patton into the living room, where Virgil was fluffing pillows and Roman was shuffling through the Disney movies. Virgil caught sight of Patton and got up to help guide him towards the pull-out couch. He rolled his eyes and giggled slightly over his boyfriends’ concerned antics, but still allowed Virgil to help. Not long after they got Patton situated, Roman let out a small triumphant cry while holding up a movie case and moved over to the DVD player, letting Winnie the Pooh start-up on the screen, then went over to join the cuddle pile on the pull-out couch.

It was nice.

---

They wouldn’t let Patton go to his appointment alone, thought the doctors made them wait outside. They thought it was because of the testing, but it was really because Patton didn’t want them immediately in there if it’s bad news.

After the testing, the doctor told him the results.

Of course it was bad news. His heart condition has worsened.

“Would you like the others to come in? If so, we can discuss options to help correct the situation once they’re in here.” The doctor said.

Patton plastered on a smile, trying to be brave for his loves and not cry. “Yes, that would be great.”

The doctor opened the door and motioned for Logan, Roman, and Virgil to come in. They immediately sat down next to Patton, in return, they got a small, soft smile.

“First thing’s first, the heart condition has gotten worse, as a result, making it harder for Mr.Baker to do activities that normally would be no problem.” They just nodded in understanding, not really knowing what to say. Virgil scooted closer to Patton so he can rest his head on him. “Though there is a surgery that we can perform to correct the condition.”

You could almost feel Patton’s hopefulness radiating off of him.

“What are the risk, if any?” asked Logan, of course he would think about that.

“That is the bad part. There is a 68% chance of there being further complications or death. Without the surgery, he has a prognosis of around 3-6 months.” The doctor looked at the faces in the room, ranging from disbelief to agony. “I’m just going to step out for a few minutes to allow you all to decide. If you don’t decide now, you can contact the front desk and they’ll direct the call to me to discuss specifications.” On that note, the doctor walked out of the room.

Patton broke.

Virgil moved Patton on top of him while both Roman and Logan grabbed a hand and rubbed soothing circles into the back of them.

“So what are you going to do?” Roman asked from next to him.

“I think I’m going to do get the surgery.” Patton’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. He could feel Virgil tense behind him.

“You heard the risks though. You know that there is a pretty high probability that you could die or get harmed more.” Came Virgil’s voice, clearly worried. Patton didn’t want them to worry. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else through his tears, so he just nodded his head and nuzzled closer into Virgil.

Logan was able to find the words Patton couldn’t, “Yes, but Virgil, you heard his prognosis. If he doesn’t take this chance…” His voice trailed off, not really wanting to end that sentence.

The knock of the doctor broke the occurring silence.

“Have you made your decision, or are you going to need to call back?”

Patton nodded and wiped the stray tears off of his face, “Yeah, I’m going to get the surgery.”

“Great. If we move towards the front desk, we can schedule a date.”

After they had a scheduled date for next week, they drove straight home, Roman comforting a crying Patton on his lap and letting a few tears fall himself. Once they got home, Roman carried Patton inside while the other two followed, Virgil got the blankets and Logan pulled out the couch so they could have a proper cuddle pile. Once they got comfy, Patton broke down again and so did his boyfriends, just a bit quieter.

“I’m just… really scared.” Came Patton’s voice. It sounded so weak and fragile that it broke everyone’s heart even more.

“We understand, puffball,” Roman’s voice sounded thick from worry and tears. “This is a scary situation, you have a right to be scared.”

Patton choked out another sob, “I just don’t want to lose you guys.” At that, everyone tightened their hold on him.

Logan’s voice spoke up for the first time in a while, “You won’t lose us, we’ll make sure of it.” Whether the statement was made out of denial or determination, who knew.

They spent the rest of the day cuddling and watching movies until they eventually passed out while in the middle of Frozen.

When Patton woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was the lack of warmth, the next was hushed murmurings. He shifted a bit so he could find who was making the noise, catching the notice of his boyfriends by doing so. Roman then walked over and picked Patton up to set him down at the table.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Yes, but we’re not allowing you to walk more than you have to, Patty-cake.” Declared the dramatic man as he sat Patton down in a seat.

“Though, we are allowing you to walk every once in a while so you are not at risk of blood clots.” Logan’s voice called out from the stove, the smell of whatever he was making in the air. He then plated whatever it was and set it in the middle of the table.

Virgil took his seat next to Patton and gave the kind man a small squeeze. “We just don’t want you to overexert yourself, Cookie.” The use of their high school nicknames made Patton giggle.

“So, what do ya guys have planned for today. Surely it’s gotta be something interesting by the way you were all whispering.” Patton said as he started to fill his plate with food.

“Well, little Puffball,” Roman started from behind him, “We’re going to be having the best week ever before your surgery, starting with a trip to the shelter so you can play with the dogs.”

“That sounds great!” Patton all but shouted from his spot at the table. A week where he can spend it having fun with his boyfriends, amazing.

---

And amazing it was.

They spent the week making sure it was Patton’s best, going to his favorite places, watching his favorite movies, the absolute best cuddles, and overall made him feel special and loved. The best part though was the final night before the surgery where they blindfolded Patton while leading him to a certain spot. When they removed the blindfold off of Patton, he didn’t know what to say. They had set up a picnic in the park, but the area of the park they were at was what made Patton so speechless.

“Is this-”

“The place where we held our first date? Indeed, it is.” Logan finished for him, which he was grateful for. “We thought it would be nice to have another picnic at the place where it all started.”

“Yeah, who could forget the place where princey ran straight into a tree.” Virgil said, a squeak of defiance could shortly be heard after he received a smack from Roman.

“I think it’s lovely!” Patton looked at the picnic setup on top of the hill… great, a hill. He’s been feeling a bit dizzy from all of the stuff they’ve been doing leading up to the picnic. Before he could ask for help up there, he let out a yelp as Roman picked him up.

The picnic itself was a beautiful time. They had the same thing on their first date, pasta with a side salad, Roman rolled down the hill and ran into the same tree, Virgil started a food fight with everyone, and they ended the night with stargazing.

---

The next day was Patton’s surgery. They all had to wake up early, much to Virgil’s reluctance, to drive him to the hospital so they could prep him. Then they wait.

They were all scared in that waiting room. Why wouldn’t they? Their puffball was in surgery, a surgery that had a high chance of a side effect called death.

Roman went to the cafeteria to get some hot chocolate for everyone at some point, coffee was a no-go with their nerves already on edge, Logan was trying to keep Virgil from burning a hole in the floor, despite possibly being more worried than the ball of anxiety himself, and Virgil was trying to not go through all the different outcomes of the surgery.

After who knows how long, the doctor walked into the waiting room.

Patton’s surgery was a success.

You could practically feel the relief wash over the room.

“He hasn’t woken up yet from the anesthesia, but you are still allowed to wait in his room.” The doctor informed them right before he showed them to Patton’s room.

When they opened the door, their eyes laid on Patton laying in his bed. Unconscious but alive.

---

The first thing Patton registered when he woke up was the bright light, why is it so bright? The next was someone holding his hand. He turned his head to investigate, only for a smile to grace his lips as he saw Virgil passed out while holding his hand. He looked over Virgil’s shoulder to see that Roman and Logan fell asleep in the same chair close by, Roman looking more like a koala with how tight he was holding Logan.

It was a warming sight.

Patton decided not to bother their peace and go back to sleep. The main worry was over, he survived and now he can live his life with his wonderful boyfriends. He let that be his thought process as he drifted off to sleep surrounded by his loves.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my heart skips a beat #human au #hurt/comfort #lamp

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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: Awkward Conversation and Lawyers

Hello!! This is the fourth chapter of my PTA! Dad! Zemo fic. This is the sixth installment of 11, and the previous chapters can be found under the hashtag pta dad zemo.

Fic Summary: After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.

And yet, here we are.

This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.

Chapter WC: 2040

Fic under cut!! Hope you enjoy!!

One Month Later

Zemo walked next to Sarah, chatting about nothing in particular. He had nothing to do today and was accompanying Sarah to her restaurant. He had been a few times before, but each time made an excuse to leave when the compassion and empathy Sarah clearly had became too much. He was always worried that he might become too attached to Sarah, start viewing her like the sister she practically was to him, that he would lose sight of the only thing that mattered, that being Carl.

But today the grief was especially strong, and he was not about to talk about mindless things with Oeznik. His butler was an old friend, but he was required to listen to Zemo and do what he says, Sarah wasn’t. It was comforting to have someone to call him out. He knew Sarah wanted to ask, but she was kind in the way she never pressed. Not on this, at least.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but something clearly is, and I’m here if you need me okay?” Sarah suddenly said, and Zemo blinked at her.

“Thank you.” He replied thickly, and quickly cleared his throat. He briefly considered talking to Sarah about his wife, but he still was not yet prepared for that conversation. He blinked harshly when his eyes threatened to fill with tears and instead told Sarah about his most recent conversation with James.

“He’s so perfect,” Zemo waxed, biting back a grin at the way Sarah lit up. She loved teasing him over his cru- er liking of Carl’s teacher. “I mean honestly, have you seen him?”

Sarah laughed, and they both walked into the restaurant. Sarah was rushed off by an employee, and Zemo took his usual seat. He ordered a glass of water and handed a 100 dollar bill to the employee, telling her to keep it. She muttered something about rich people, and he felt his smile flicker, but kept it up regardless.

He reminded himself that some people didn’t like randomly being paid by rich assholes. He was an acquired taste. She returned with his glass of water, giving it to him and leaving without saying anything. As soon as she was out of sight, he let his smile drop. He briefly debated texting Dr. Raynor, but decided against it. They had only one session and a brief phone call to talk about session frequency and dates. He had an appointment tomorrow, he could manage until then.

Despite the fact that he thought he could manage, he texted Oeznik to pick up Carl from school, instead of him. As he was texting, someone came into the restaurant, and Zemo shrunk in on himself when he noticed it was Sam. The man had a clear distaste for him, and Zemo tried to avoid him whenever possible. Oeznik texted him an affirmative, and Zemo put his phone away. He purposefully made himself smaller in hopes that Sam would not spot him, but unfortunately he was rather unsuccessful. Sam had surveyed the room and spotted him in his semi-hidden corner table. Sam made his way towards him, and Zemo summoned all of his energy into looking like a baron, like he was supposed to. “Zemo. What are you doing here?” Sam asked, glaring daggers at him. Zemo wilted a little under the forceful glare. The harsh tone of voice made his already weak defences waver, and his smile tightened.

“I enjoy the atmosphere.” Zemo responded with a smirk, and Sam’s glare turned all the more powerful. It was the truth though, so he was at a bit of a loss as to what to say. Clearly Sam would dislike any answer he gave, so it didn’t particularly matter what he said.

“Really? A rich jerk like you?” Sam questioned incredulously, eyes sharp and words sharper. Zemo struggled to keep his composure. Normally he would be able to keep up with insults and banter of his own, but today he was consumed by thoughts of his wife. He had also been thinking about his father, which was a pain he had not even started to process. He was not having a good day, and was constantly a minute away from just breaking down. Sam’s harshness was making that go from a minute to seconds.

Zemo swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a response, but he did not trust himself not to start sobbing if he opened his mouth, so he settled for just nodding instead. Sam glared at him suspiciously, and took the seat across from him. Inside, Zemo was already breaking down, everything was on fire. But on the outside? He gave Sam a polite smile and held out his hand for a shake. Sam ignored him and pulled out his phone, so Zemo awkwardly retracted his hand and pulled out his phone too. They sat in silence, Sam playing some kind of mobile game and Zemo simply swiping back and forth on his phone screen to look busy.

After about ten minutes Zemo broke their stifling silence.

“So…” Zemo began, tucking his phone back into his pants pocket. “How are AJ and Cass doing?” Sam continued to silently glare at him, seemingly analyzing every movement that he made. Zemo swallowed and rubbed his hands together nervously.

“Fine.” Sam finally responded sharply. “How’s-” Sam paused, searching for the name.

“Carl.” Zemo supplied helpfully. “He is well.”

“Right. Yeah.” Sam said, looking as awkward as Zemo felt. Zemo gave him a tentative smile, which he didn’t return, in fact, he actively scowled at him, so Zemo schooled his face back into something more neutral.

And then Zemo’s phone rang. He pulled it out and immediately felt a severe amount of anxiety when he noticed it was from the school.

“Helmut Zemo, how can I help you?” He answered, shoving all his panic to the back of his mind. Ensuring Carl was safe was his first priority, he could panic later.

“Hello, Mr. Zemo. I am calling to inform you that Carl got into a fight during recess today. We believe that his arm may be broken. If you could come pick him up and take him to the emergency room that’d be great, thanks.” “Mein gott,” Zemo muttered to himself, “Yes of course. I’m on my way, I should arrive shortly.” He quickly hung up the phone and threw his coat on. He ignored Sam’s question of what's up and ran out the door. As he made the trek back towards the school, he called Oeznik. He told him to bring their most comfortable car that looked like it belonged to rich people. The stupid American supervisors let his child get hurt, he was not afraid to show off the power and wealth that he had. Oeznik pulled up to the school with the car just as he arrived, and he nodded to his butler to let him know to follow him in. They were both buzzed into the school with ease, and Zemo (gracefully, he was a baron not a barbarian) stormed into the office. The secretary directed him into the principal's office, and he thanked her with a quick nod.

Oeznik opened the door for him and closed it with both of them inside. Oeznik stood in the doorway, watching over everything carefully. He would not hesitate to act if any more harm befell either of his young masters.

“Ms. Carter, always a pleasure.” Zemo said to the principal agreeably, holding out his hand for a shake. Sharon shook it once and they both released. Zemo knew of her connections to the underworld and she knew of his, so they had a mutual agreement to not bother the other one while they were living out their normal, everyday lives.

“Baron Zemo.” Sharon greeted. After he turned away from her, he took in the other members of the room. Carol was seated in one of the two chairs in front of Sharon’s desk, and her son, along with Carl, were in two other chairs near the back of her office. Zemo made his way over to Carl, carefully assessing the arm he was cradling close to his chest.

It was most definitely broken.

“Oeznik,” Zemo commanded loudly, “Take Carl to the hospital. Get him seen as soon as possible, his arm is clearly broken. Inform him that I will make my way as soon as possible.” Oeznik rushed over, gently leading Carl outside of the office, although Zemo gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead before they left.

As soon as Carl was gone, he changed from a loving father figure to a pissed off, rich, european who could end your life in one word. He took the seat next to Carol and ignored her attempts to talk to him, instead he spoke directly to Sharon. “Would you mind explaining to me what happened, Ms. Carter? I would hate for any inaccuracies in the story to result in a lawsuit.” He said nonchalantly, inspecting his nails. Sharon smirked at him, and began to explain. “From what I could gather from the children, supervisors-” Sharon began, only to be cut off by Carol. “They're all lying! My darling Hunter would never dare do such a thing!” Carol huffed.

“-and security footage.” Sharon finished dryly, and Zemo delighted in the way Carol’s face turned white and dropped. His smirk grew as he watched Carol mentally panic. “Hunter started to insult Carl, who was making his way into the school in order to use the washroom. When Carl ignored him, Hunter used physical force to get his attention, and pushed Carl onto the ground, resulting in his broken arm.” “Well,” Zemo said with a smirk, “I believe we can all agree that the young Mr. West is at fault here. I will not press charges, but I think that Carol should temporarily have her position on the PTA revoked, considering that this was an act of poor parenting on her part.” Sharon’s responding grin was very much similar to a sharks, and Zemo made a mental note to go to her next party and purchase some art work. She was being remarkably helpful in dealing with Carol’s actions.

“Of course. You are free to go, Baron Zemo, and I’ll talk with Mrs. West on the matter of punishments.” Sharon responded, standing up to shake his hand. When she did, he quietly whispered for her to contact him with the details of her next gathering. She gave him a nod and they parted. He left her office with a wink, gave another nod to the secretary on the way out of the conference room, and promptly ran directly into James while exiting it.

"Говно!” He cursed in surprise as he tripped over James’ feet and started to fall. He was prepared for a harsh impact, only to have a hand wrap around his waist instead. James had caught him, and was also laughing. Zemo soaked in the noise, pushing away the normal guilt and shame he felt over enjoying James’ presence.

“I didn’t know you knew Russian.” James said, still laughing slightly as he helped Zemo right himself. Zemo flushed, knowing that his curse had been understood.

“The sentiment is shared,” He said, embarrassment coursing through him. “My apologies, I really do hate to cut our conversation short, but, as I am sure you are aware, Carl has been injured.” James nodded and they parted ways, him back to his classroom and Zemo calling an Uber to come drive him to the hospital as he exited the school.

He paid the driver extra to keep his mouth shut, and enjoyed the silent ride. He collected all his thoughts and pushed everything not important to the side. His only focus will be Carl, and that was it.

Once he arrived at the hospital he headed into the ER and texted Oeznik, who told him where he was with Carl. Zemo rushed over, not running, but walking as fast as he could that was still socially acceptable. Carl appeared to be relatively happy, and Zemo felt his heart and head finally start to slow.

Carl was safe. And that was all that mattered.

Tagging: @morganbritton132 (Who came up with this AU) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (Who is a super suporitive friend!!)

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agerefandom · 4 years

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Safety In Numbers

Fandom: Be More Chill (the musical)

Characters: Rich & Jeremy-centric, with Michael, Christine, and Jake.

Words: 2,100

Summary: The kids from Be More Chill become friends, slowly but surely. Jeremy starts getting closer to Rich and finds out that he regresses.

Warnings: Bit of an angsty fic! With a happy ending, of course. Mentions of bad parents and unsafe households. Nightmares and stress-regression. One cuss word. Typed baby-talk.

Note: The prompt asked for cg!Jeremy with regressor!Rich and Jake. I only filled about half of the prompt because I’ve never written for BMC before and needed to do some world-building, so please remind me to write a part two when I open requests again! I’ve got a bit of a to-do list so I’m only writing this stand-alone for the moment, but I hope you enjoy, and I look forward to writing the rest!

After everything that happened, it was only natural for the five of them to become friends.

Jeremy shared a room with Rich and Jake in the hospital, and both Michael and Christine came to visit them regularly. At first, Michael came to sit with Jeremy, but eventually he would come and pull up a chair between the beds, chatting with all of them and pulling out his phone to show them all the latest hot meme.

Eventually, they returned to school to finish the year. No one really knew what had happened, but most people seemed to blame Jeremy. With Rich on the outs after the fire, and Jake unable to play football during his recovery period, the five of them formed an alliance of convenience, protecting each other from the alternating teasing and cold shoulders. They ate lunch together, walked to classes together, and kept an eye out for each other after school.

Slowly, what began as a survival strategy became a genuine friendship.

They all liked video games, as it turned out, although their tastes were drastically different. Soon their lunchtimes were consumed by arguments about console and PC games, arcade favourites and foreign imported games. Michael would get so worked up he would stand on his chair, and the others would pull him back down, laughing. Christine would gesture so wildly that she hit Jeremy in the face and get completely derailed by apologizing. Jeremy was hesitant at first, but eventually he was as loud as any of them, coming to the defense of Michael’s obsession with 8-bit games and arguing for the artistic integrity of the vintage aesthetic as Christine and Rich both scoffed at him.

It all worked in a way that Jeremy had never expected. He found himself hardly noticing the stares in the hallway, or the self-deprecating whispers in his head, when he was walking hand-in-hand with Christine, or Michael, or any of their friends. They had formed a closed circle together, with the rest of the world locked out, and that felt fine. It felt safe.

Jeremy felt like he knew everything about Michael, but he was still learning more every day. He got to know the other three from week to week, piecing together their childhood stories and comments about school into a patchwork picture of who they were.

Jake was living with his aunt now, Jeremy learned. With his parents expected to face serious jail-time, the courts had given Jake the choice between emancipation or a family member willing to house Jake until his 18th birthday. Jake got along fine with his aunt, but she wasn’t exactly a mother figure. She had never planned to have kids, and treated Jake more like a younger brother. Her house was small, so they rarely spent time at Jake’s house, and Jeremy had only met his aunt once.

Jeremy had never been over to Rich’s house. Jake told them that Rich’s father was a real asshole, and Rich said that things had gotten worse since the fire. Jeremy inferred that his SQUIP had been helping to defuse things at home as well as at school, and things weren’t going as well without it. Rich was always staying over at other people’s houses, beaming when he was invited to sleep on the couch. Jeremy tried to offer as much as possible; the couch in his basement folded out into a futon, and his dad was sympathetic once Jeremy explained Rich’s home situation.

Christine’s house was by far the largest of the five, full of decorative platters and parents who kept bringing them bowls of fruit. She had an entire couch in her bedroom, and once Jake’s legs healed, they found out that all five of them could squish onto it to watch movies on a laptop. The only downside was that her dad was a light sleeper and forced them all to go home at nine pm sharp, so they more often spent time in Jeremy’s basement. Michael’s basement was fine but always dirty, and his TV wasn’t half the size of Jeremy’s.

The rest of Jeremy’s Junior year passed in a blur of homework, movie nights, ‘Game Over’ screens, and cuddle piles. He learned about each of his friends, and in learning about them he came to love them.

When classes ended and summer came, as humid and oppressive as ever, Rich started staying at other people’s houses more. Jeremy’s house was the safest bet because his dad never said no, and the futon was pretty comfortable. So Jeremy got used to finding Rich on his doorstep in the evening, with a hopeful grin and his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Jeremy tried to talk to him about it, but Rich always switched the subject. He wanted to play video games, or watch terrible 70s horror movies and laugh at them, or argue about comic books. Jeremy obliged, letting Rich set the rules and the pace from night to night. Rich was manic with energy some nights, whooping and cheering at the screen with every successful kill. Other nights, he slumped against Jeremy’s side with blank eyes and fell asleep as soon as the movie title came on-screen.

Some nights, Jeremy would turn off the TV and quietly wedge a pillow under Rich’s head before sneaking up to his own bed. Other nights, when the futon was already set up, Jeremy would watch the movie with Rich’s head resting on his shoulder, and fall asleep with the credits scrolling.

Often, Jeremy would wake up in the middle of the night because Rich was a pretty active sleeper, and then he would tiptoe off to his own bed to give Rich his privacy.

One night, though, Jeremy wasn’t woken up by Rich kicking his legs or rolling on top of him. He was woken up by the sound of muffled whimpers beside him, a strained sound of fear.

Disoriented, Jeremy squinted into the darkness. It took him a moment to remember that he was on the futon in the basement with Rich, and from there he knew that Rich must be having some kind of nightmare.

“Rich?” Jeremy sat up and felt blindly for his friend. “Rich, wake up.” His hand made contact with Rich’s chest and he found Rich’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Rich, come on. Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

After a few long seconds of that pained whimpering, Jeremy heard Rich gasp in a deep breath and then go quiet.

“Rich?” he asked the darkness softly. “Are you awake?”

There was no response, but with the hand Jeremy still had on Rich’s shoulder, he could feel that the other boy was shaking.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy started to panic a little bit, looking around for the light switch. What if Rich was having a seizure or something, and Jeremy couldn’t see because it was dark? “Rich, are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Rich whispered. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He kept muttering the same word quietly, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. His voice was tired and wavering and almost unfamiliar in its tone.

“It’s okay,” Jeremy told him, and stroked his arm with a thumb in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “You don’t need to be sorry. Do you want me to go?”

Jeremy felt Rich shake his head energetically.

“Cool, I’ll stay. Do you want a hug?” Jeremy had barely finished the question when Rich was in his arms, thrown forwards at full force. Jeremy heard himself make an ‘oof’ sound but he wrapped his arms around Rich, holding him tightly in the darkness. With Rich so close, Jeremy could finally hear that he was crying, his breaths catching in quiet sobs as he clung to Jeremy.

“M’sorry,” he muttered again into Jeremy’s neck. “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jeremy said. “Really, it’s okay. We all get nightmares.” He ran a hand up and down Rich’s spine, hoping to stop the shaking.

Time stretched on inside of the hug, all of Jeremy’s focus consumed by moving in a way that would calm Rich down. He didn’t know if they had been there for a minute or an hour. He rubbed circles into Rich’s back, ran his fingers through Rich’s hair, gently massaged the back of Rich’s neck. Slowly, Rich stopped shaking quite so much, and eventually the tears subsided. Jeremy’s shirt was cold and wet where Rich had been crying into his shoulder, but he tried not to shiver for fear of setting Rich off again.

Once Jeremy felt Rich’s breathing settle back to normal, he slowly loosened his arms from around Rich and sat back on the makeshift bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked again. It felt like a feeble question, but he waited for the answer.

“I- I dunno.” Rich’s voice was still high with confusion. “I dunno.”

“That’s okay.” Jeremy nodded into the darkness, even though Rich couldn’t see him. “It’s okay to be not okay, okay?” He really needed to stop saying the word ‘okay,’ it was starting to lose its meaning. “Do you want to go and get a snack, or go back to sleep?”

“Scared,” Rich whispered, his lisp heavy on the word. “Don’t wanna sleep.”

“Okay.” Again, Jeremy needed to stop saying that word, but he didn’t know what else to say. “We’ve got some ice cream in the fridge, if you want to wake up properly.”

“What kinda ice cream?” Rich’s voice sounded brighter, but it hadn’t lost that slurred, high-pitched tone.

“Same as earlier tonight, Rocky road and mint chocolate chip.”

“I like Rocky Road!” Rich said excitedly, and then Jeremy felt him curl up. “M’sorry,” he said, and then he was back to muttering the same word over and over “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Jeremy said soothingly. “It’s no trouble. Do you want me to bring the ice cream down here?” He reached out again to rub one of Rich’s shoulders, and the other boy leaned into the touch. Jeremy obediently scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Rich, squeezing him steadily. Rich melted against him, with a quiet sob.

“M’not s’pposed to be like this,” Rich whispered.

“Like what?” Jeremy asked, resting his cheek against the top of Rich’s head. Rich made a wordless sound of distress at the question and folded in on himself, hiding his head in his arms. It sounded like he was trying to talk, but only kept starting words and then giving up on them.

“It’s okay,” Jeremy said again. “I’m not mad. You’re my friend and I love you.” Those words had become easier over the months, although they still felt like a huge step every time he said them. In the darkness here, it didn’t feel as much like a risk.

“Nnn,” said Rich into his knees where he was curled up. “M’sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Jeremy hoped that he wasn’t being annoying by saying the same thing over and over again, but it was all that he could think of to say. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” Rich whispered.

“What are you sorry for?” Jeremy finally asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

“Bein’ all dumb and small,” Rich said, sniffling a bit. “Can’t think, m’too small.” At first, Jeremy thought he was apologizing for his height, which was ridiculous. But then he started putting the pieces together. Rich’s voice, the slurred words and the confused questions. The tears, which he had never seen from Rich before. Could he mean ‘small’ in the sense of feeling like a kid?

“That’s okay,” Jeremy assured Rich, tugging him a little closer into the cuddle. “You don’t need to think, I can get us ice cream and we can put something dumb on the TV until we feel tired.”

“Don’t leave, m’sorry,” Rich said, holding on tight to Jeremy’s sleeve.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeremy promised, pushing his nose against Rich’s temple in an affectionate nuzzle. “I can just stay with you if you want me here.”

“Tank you,” Rich said, still holding onto to Jeremy’s sleeve as if he were going to pull away. Jeremy was relieved to hear thanks instead of apologies, this time.

“Of course,” Jeremy said, and ran a hand through Rich’s hair as the other boy slowly relaxed against him. “I love you. Of course, I’ll stay.”

“Love you too,” whispered Rich, and the two of them sat in the darkness until sleep came back for them both.

#bmc agere #sfw agere #agere fanfiction #agere fic #agere writing #agere fics #be more chill #bmc #sfw age regression

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hiiraism4 · 4 years

Text

Gavin : Proposal (2/3)

Fandom : MLQC

Pairing : Gavinxreader, Gavinxyou

[part 1]

[ANGST WARNING]

“I really am sorry for dragging you in this. Direct order from commander.” Eli apologized again in Gavin’s earpiece.

“Can’t do anything about it.” Gavin stared at his wrist watch. 8PM.

“How’s the situation there, Eli?” Gavin asked.

A pause. Gavin could hear several footsteps, hurried ones.

“Not that good, i’d say. We’ve encountered the suspect, but he keeps on resisting and decided to use his evol against us--” Eli was cut off by a gunshot. “And he can use gun. It’s the matter of time before his evol goes out of control.” he continued.

“Is there any casualties from your team?” Gavin asked again as the driver parked the car he was in nearby a van. Eli’s squad’s van.

“...I lost 2 from mine already.” Eli said bitterly.

Gavin knew from the tone of Eli’s sentence that this will be a long long night. When he met at the rendezvous point with Eli the captain’s slick hair was disheveled. The suspect ran away and they had limited time to catch up to him. Both of them didn’t waste anytime and began their chasing. Eli was driving with Gavin beside him, on his passenger seat.

“His evol’s manipulating wind, just like you.” Eli began.

“It’s not a rare evol.” Gavin shrugged. “Several people have the same as mine.”

“Unless, this guy can fly certain objects and use them as weapon.” Eli paused. “He could stab your back without you even know it. 2 of my squad was stabbed on their neck by pole from behind.” Eli gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“...we need to get this one soon then.” Gavin nodded.

Just like Eli said, the suspect was dangerous. Gavin luckily didn’t lose any of his comrades while chasing him all the way inside empty factory building. But the suspect kept on resisting and didn’t let other people got close. He even had bomb in his body. Shoot at him, he’ll explode and Gavin knew from the looks of it, it was a medium scale bomb and if it explode, the whole building will collapse.

The young captain knew that he couldn’t talk it out to him, since Eli failed using that kind of approach to the suspect and Gavin recognized Eli’s ability as a negotiator. The only option they got left was capturing him alive, or kill him on site. But Gavin rather capture him alive.

But that wasn’t as easy as Gavin thought. There are remnants of the factory everywhere, can be used as weapon for the suspect.

The suspect decided to attack one of Gavin’s squad and effectively kill him, stabbing the pole to his neck. Gavin saw in horror as another, right beside him, fell. The air around Gavin turned violent. Seeing the suspect glaring at him, Gavin shot a bullet to suspect, easily avoided.

“Gavin, watch out!” Eli ran towards him and pushed him to the side. A pole almost stabbed Gavin’s heart, instead stabbed Eli’s arm deep, even the end of the pole got to the other side of his arms.

Eli fell to the ground, wincing in pain. Gavin hurriedly drag Eli to a nearby wall.

“Shit, Eli! Eli!” Gavin called Eli’s name, holding him in his arms.

The captain shook his head.

“Leave me, it’s okay. I can teleport outside on my own. You need to disarm the suspect.” Eli managed to say.

Gavin nodded, let Eli sat leaned to the wall slowly his whole body enveloped in faint glow and started fading, while Gavin stood and walked away leaving him. Gavin glared at the suspect, now became angry. The current air around him turned sharp and glowing dark.

“Don’t come closer, or i’ll push the trigger!” warned the suspect.

Gavin didn’t care.

Gavin used the same technique the suspect used. Using his evol, he lifted a brick from behind the suspect. Gavin eyed at his remaining squad, then to the sniper. He nodded slowly, making finger signal behind his back. The sniper shot the brick, dividing the brick into two and one of them hit the suspect’s back. When the suspect looked the other way, Gavin used the wind evol to tackle him to the ground. Gavin managed to grabbed his hand and snatched the trigger away from him, tackling him with his weight.

Beep

“You would never catch me, officer.” was what the suspect said. The red light flickered on his body.

The bom has activated. And display the countdown.

Gavin’s blood drained from his face. He wouldn’t have time to run.

“Everyone, take cover! Bomb’s activated!” Gavin managed to shout.

****

You jolted awake from your sleep. You were sweating and felt your lips dry, burn on your throat. You sat, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

1AM

You stared at your phone’s wallpaper. A photo of you and Gavin on your last year’s winter holiday. Both of you were smiling happily. You traced the phone’s screen, smiling. But the smile turned into frown. You knew how demanding Gavin’s work is. You knew you couldn’t make him stop or quit his job. Gavin took pride on what he does, protecting civilians, protecting you. But still the thought of him constantly on mission and it even took him days make you worried.

And no incoming chat from him, meaning that he wasn’t finished with his mission.

You almost dropped your phone when it suddenly buzzing and ringing. You stared at the name of the caller.

Gavin.

You didn’t wait any second to answer the phone.

“Oh thank God you called! Gavin, are you done with the mission?” you asked.

No answer.

“Gavin?” you called again, began to sound worried.

You heard Gavin’s coughing.

“Gavin? Gavin, are you okay?” your hand began to shake.

“Yeah, i’m ok.” you could hear Gavin’s hoarse voice.

“...are you sure?” you spat out. You knew Gavin. You know him too well that he was lying. But you told yourself that he wasn’t.

You heard him chuckling lightly on the other side.

On the other side, Gavin exhaled. He was leaning to the wall, he barely managed to escape and the wind evol he had managed to shield him. He could have died. He was still intact but all his body felt hurt and he could feel blood trickling from his head and shoulder. It would take a while before the rescue team managed to find him and picked him up. He already gave signals on his earpiece that he was alive, luckily again, most of his squad also survived.

Gavin was trapped. He couldn’t get out as his surrounding was filled with debris. He hoped he would last until the team found him. Gavin held the phone on his right ear. Listening to your voice soothe him. At least he wouldn’t be as anxious as if he had to wait alone.

“Will you come home in the morning?” you asked.

Gavin hated giving you false hope.

“I still need to work on some papers. Maybe i’ll come home at evening or the day after tomorrow.” Gavin managed to say. Wasn’t technically a lie. Also, he wouldn’t want to come home with fresh injuries like this and made you more worried.

“Oh...oh i see.” she said softly.

“Oh, by the way, the steak you cooked. It was so delicious.” you said, trying to make a subject.

Gavin smiled. “I can make you another one later.”

If i could come out alive out of this.

“You promise?” you asked.

Gavin froze. He felt a small box on his pocket. He took the box out and opened it. Staring at the ring, he frowned.

“...i promise.” Gavin said.

There was a silent.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Gavin said.

And there it was. He could hear your soft sobs on the other side. He felt the pang on his heart. He wished he could come home soon, hug you tight and wipe the tears from your eyes away. He didn’t call you just to hear you cry. Gavin slipped back the ring and the box and shoved it to his pocket.

“Please wait for me, okay?” Gavin hoped that would ease your worry.

“Always. I always wait for you.” you said, choking a sob.

“Then don’t cry. I wanna hear your laugh.” Gavin said, staring at the dark ceiling.

“You’re..weird.” you managed to say, your sobbing has stopped. Gavin smiled.

“I always love your smile, you know. I’ve always been, ever since we were in high school.” Gavin said.

“But i used braces back then.” you retorted.

“I don’t mind. You were still pretty. Even back then, even now. I want you to smile more often. I hope, i can always make you smile when you’re with me.” Gavin honestly said.

Gavin’s smile got wider when he heard you lightly chuckled.

“I always happy when i’m with you.” you said.

“I’m glad.” Gavin closed his eyes.

Silent.

“It might took a while for my rescue team to find me. Before then, i wanna hear your voice.” Gavin said.

“Oh, i see. I hope you’re not badly injured.” you said.

Gavin’s turn to laugh.

“Please lend me your power. I’ll come back to you. I promise.” Gavin exhaled, feeling light headed.

“I’ll be waiting for you at home.” you said.

“Hey.” Gavin called. His conciousness began to fade away. But he tried to stay awake. He needed to say this.

“I love you. I always do.”

You froze. You tried to call his name but he didn’t respond. Tears coming out from your eyes and your eyes got blurry.

[Part 3]

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc fanfic #gavin #gavin x reader #fanfic #baiqi #mlqc bai qi #angst

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flightfoot · 4 years

Text

We’re the Same Ch. 6

AO3/FFN

The Hawkmoth confrontation at last!

Disclaimer: This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.

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

“You remember the plan?” Damian asked.

Adrien, Marinette, and Ducard nodded.

About an hour after he’d left Ducard, he’d seen reports that Ladybug and Chat Noir were running around Paris. Deciding that this probably meant they were done talking for now, he’d met up with them again.

Ladybug had yelled at him about kidnapping them and stealing their Miraculous. He’d just stood there, bored. He’d had worse.

His mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile, thinking of when she asked about the position she and Adrien had found themselves in.

“And another thing!” she yelled, clearly trying to get out all her pent-up frustration and anger before they faced Hawkmoth, “you had no right putting us on top of each other like that!”

Chat looked hurt, eyes dropping to the ground, tail drooping.

Ladybug noticed immediately. Her voice softened. “I’m not complaining about the result, just that he put us in a somewhat intimate position like that without even knowing us, much less with consent.”

Chat perked up again, his tail doing a happy little twitch, and he nodded, agreeing with her.

Damian sniggered.

Ladybug scowled at him. “And what’s so funny?!”

“Ducard and I DIDN’T position you two on top of each other,” he said. “Both of you were a few feet away from each other, backs against the wall.”

Ladybug’s eyes furrowed. “Then how-”

She stopped.

And groaned.

“I crawled into his lap I’m guessing?” Ladybug said, resigned.

Damian nodded, still smirking.

She sighed. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. When I was little and stayed in Maman and Papa’s bed, I’d apparently end up sandwiched between them regardless of where I started out. Papa used to call me a heat-seeking missile.”

She glared at Damian again. “You’re still on the hook for everything else though.”

Damian leaned back, waiting for her to finish berating him. He’d survived Pennyworth’s lectures. This? This was nothing.

“What’re you smiling about?” Marinette asked him suspiciously.

Damian ignored her, checking the cameras instead. “Gabriel’s in the dining hall, so we should have a good window right now. I just started looping the cameras. We’re invisible starting… now!”

The four of them quietly snuck from Adrien’s room to Gabriel’s atelier, Damian quickly picking the lock. Child’s play for a former member of the League of Assassins, or a Robin for that matter.

Damian made his way over to the portrait of Emilie, pressing the sequence of buttons he’d captured Gabriel using to access the massive underground chamber.

He wanted to know where the second sequence he’d seen Gabriel enter on the cameras would lead, but now wasn’t the time. While he suspected that it had something to do with the other secret room, the one he’d been unable to gain access to, he couldn’t be sure. Even if it was, he didn’t know what to expect to find. He could handle anything Hawkmoth threw at him, he was sure. But his companions? Maybe not.

Plus…

He looked over at Adrien.

Truthfully, Damian didn’t need to visit that underground chamber again. He’d seen most of what he needed to for now.

But Adrien DID.

He hadn’t asked, but… he needed to see his mother.

If Damian had a beloved family member he thought was dead, but turned out to be merely asleep, no force on heaven or earth would have been able to stop him from seeing them. Hell, when he’d discovered that Grayson had faked his death, had reunited with him - well, Damian didn’t initiate hugs often.

But that day? He’d taken a page out of Grayson’s book and glomped him.

(Not that he’d tell anyone ELSE that, and if Grayson ever brought it up he’d just claim he must have memory loss in his old age)

When proposing entering the chamber, he’d justified it as having the kwamis take a closer look at Emilie, see whether they could glean more than he could. Which wasn’t a lie - they may be able to figure out what was going on with her even when he couldn’t - but it wasn’t the main reason. They could go back and examine Emilie after defeating Hawkmoth.

He wasn’t going to make Adrien wait that long.

No one had questioned his proposal. Probably because everyone agreed - even if no one stated the true reason out loud.

The elevator activated.

The four of them looked at the small hole in the floor that had opened up, then disappeared.

“...I thought maybe there was some sort of visual distortion with how small that hole looked,” Ducard said.

Damian grimaced. “Nope.”

“...This is gonna be cramped, won’t it?”

“Yep.”

And that’s how the four of them ended up crammed together within a circle maybe two feet in diameter, heading downwards.

While he had a feeling that Marinette and Adrien were enjoying being so close, he’d really rather not be shoved up against them.

Luckily, the elevator expanded slightly as they moved downwards. It was still cramped and small, but more “sardines in a can” and less “Grayson playing Twister”.

As they descended, the cavern opened up around them, the lights coming on.

A sharp intake of breath came from beside him.

Damian looked in the direction of the noise.

Adrien stared forwards, eyes fixed on the distant capsule.

When the doors opened he stumbled out, quickly regaining his balance, and dashed towards the pod where his mother lay.

Marinette ran after him, seeming to not want to let more than a few feet separate her from her partner.

He and Ducard hung back, as Adrien reached his mother.

SHE WAS HERE.

He ran his finger over the pod, fighting back tears. Just a few feet away, his mother lay, ALIVE.

Frantically he glanced around, searching for a button or switch or something to open it.

“I’ve got this, kid.”

He glanced up.

Plagg flew out, entering the pod’s control system. A few seconds later, it opened.

There she was.

Trembling, he stretched out a hand, fearful that she would dissolve into mist.

What if she was an illusion?

But - no.

He touched soft skin.

She was cool, but- she didn’t feel dead.

His head snapped up, and he opened his mouth to ask-

There was no need.

Plagg flew around Emilie, Tikki joining him as Marinette caught up.

“She’s definitely in a magical coma,” Tikki announced after a few tense seconds. “Caused by using a broken Miraculous I’m guessing.”

“Can… can you wake her up?” Adrien asked hopefully.

Tikki shook her head. “If it was that simple, Nooroo could’ve done it.”

“Then… how can we heal her?” he asked.

He desperately wanted her to be okay. To have her RIGHT HERE and still lose her…

He bit back a sob.

“I’m not sure yet,” Tikki replied. “The last time this happened, I wasn’t privy to the details on how the victim was woken up.”

“But they DID wake up?” Adrien asked.

She nodded. “Unfortunately, the people who held that knowledge aren’t around anymore.”

“Even…?”

She shook her head, cutting him off. “ALL the people.”

“So it’s hopeless after all?” Adrien asked, heart falling.

He KNEW it was too good to be true.

“No. It’s not.”

Adrien turned around.

Robin looked at him, eyes weirdly gentle. “I know some people, many of whom are skilled in magic. Maybe none of them know the method that was used to wake up the other victim, but I bet at least one of them can come up with a way to bring her back.”

“You sure?”

He knew he sounded plaintive, like a small child asking whether the family dog would be okay after being taken to the vet for a severe injury, but at that moment, he felt like a small child.

He just… he just wanted his mom back.

Robin shook his head. “Nothing’s for sure. But I can give it my best shot. She WILL be taken care of, whatever happens; THAT, I can promise you. And this time, she won’t be hidden away. You’ll be able to visit her while I try to find a cure.”

Adrien bit his lip, tears filling his eyes.

There was hope.

Not much, but more than he’d ever had before.

Marinette placed a hand on his back, giving him a soft, sad smile.

He leaned against her, melting into her touch.

Most of his world may have been upended. But his partner was still here.

An alert sounded from a device Robin was holding, the same one that had displayed the feeds from the cameras Robin had installed. He checked it, eyes widening.

“Down below, NOW!”

Wait, what?

He didn’t get a chance to ponder it further.

“Tikki, Spots On!”

Ladybug grabbed him and jumped off the edge of the railing, hooking her yo-yo on one of the supports. Before they descended out of sight, he saw Robin hit a button on the capsule, sealing it once more.

Adrien blushed. They did this kind of thing all the time as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but up close like this untransformed? He felt vulnerable, but… kinda in a good way? He knew that she was more powerful - WAY more powerful than him like this, but also that she would never hurt him. That she’d care about any discomfort he showed. That she’d never take advantage of him, or try to get him to do something he didn’t want to do. That she’d protect him.

He didn’t need to put up barriers with her to protect himself, didn’t need to pretend to be okay when he wasn’t. Not now.

He buried his head against her shoulder. Ladybug adjusted her grip, pulling him closer so she could stroke his hair comfortingly.

He fought back a purr. They needed to be stealthy now, and a purr might be a giveaway.

But damn was it tempting.

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

He lifted his head reluctantly.

Robin had apparently had the same idea Ladybug did, having fired a grappling gun at one of the supports. His friend had done the same thing, though she’d actually managed to find a small ledge to stand on.

Robin activated the display on his device, zooming in on one particular screen - the one pointed at the elevator shaft.

Someone was descending.

Adrien’s stomach twisted.

Hewasn’treadyhewasn’treadyHEWASN’TREADY-

Gabriel Agreste, fashion mogul, magical terrorist, and his FATHER, stepped out.

Adrien stopped breathing.

Eyes locked onto the display, he stared as his father strode to the pod.

To his mother.

Footsteps sounded overhead.

Adrien flinched, convinced that somehow his father would hear them. Would charge down and-

And do what?

He shuddered. Before this, he thought the worst he could do was yell at his friends and bar him from seeing them.

Now? Now he was worried his father would flat-out MURDER them if he thought it might help with his goals. He’d never seemed overly concerned with how dangerous his akumas were before after all, and didn’t give a crap that they were kids.

Oh no, wait. He DID care, but only because it made it easier to sneer at them about how weak they are.

He really didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone outside of his goals, did he?

*kaCHUNKwhirrr*

Adrien shuddered as he heard the pod’s door open. Right now, his father was looking at his mother. His mother, who he’d been able to see and visit all along. Could have taken HIM to see her.

But he hadn’t.

“There were some new superheroes today.”

Adrien gasped slightly, restarting his breathing. Hearing his father’s voice - hearing HAWKMOTH’S voice - down here? Made it seem more real to him.

“Robin, from Gotham City, and some new girl, both riding atop a massive beast. Any one of them would make good prey for my akumas, though one seemed more susceptible than the others. There was much turmoil in young Robin, a deep undercurrent of guilt. I just need to figure out how to bring it to the surface, and I’ll have my most powerful akuma yet.”

A deep undercurrent of guilt? Robin was just a kid - he wasn’t even certain he was old enough to be in collège, he was so small. Heck, he still had baby teeth! What could’ve happened to him that made him feel so guilty?

He looked over at Robin, gauging his reaction. Robin had gone stony-faced, holding himself rigidly.

Adrien had a sudden urge to give him a hug. He may not have been too happy about being kidnapped - though he’d never regret the sleepy cuddles that’d resulted from it - but right now, he just wanted to tell Robin that whatever he was feeling so guilty about, it was okay.

“Oh, Emilie… I miss you so much. My last plan may have failed, but soon, soon I will succeed and bring you back to us. I will destroy Ladybug and Chat Noir and take their Miraculous!”

Destroy.

That sounded an awful lot like ‘kill’.

“Until then, I’ll look after our son. He’ll never truly be happy until you come back. Everything I do, I do so we can be a family again.”

He- he thought- and for that he threatened MURDER- for HIS SAKE?!

For his HAPPINESS?!

NO.

“Plagg, Claws out!”

“No!” he heard Robin hiss.

He knew he shouldn’t do this.

That he should just sit still and quiet.

But hearing him talk about destroying - about KILLING - him and Marinette?

And that it was all for his and his mother’s sake? As if they wanted this - As if it EXCUSED this?

He’d sat quietly and done what he was told his whole life.

Now that he could fight back? When his father was THREATENING the people he cared about, and claiming it was for his sake?

He couldn’t hide any longer.

“Wha-? Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!”

As Chat propelled himself onto the walkway, a light flashed over his father.

Leaving Chat facing Hawkmoth.

“How did you find this place?!” Hawkmoth spat at him, tapping on Emilie’s pod, sealing it shut.

“Because you’re an idiot.”

Chat glanced back, seeing Ladybug and Robin swinging over the railing. Briefly he wondered where Ducard was, then dismissed the thought. She was Robin’s friend, anyone who could keep up with him could probably take care of themselves.

Robin continued, “Honestly, did you really think NO ONE would notice that the floor plans didn’t match the actual Manor? You wouldn’t have lasted a week in Gotham.”

His father scoffed. “This will be your undoing. You think that mere CHILDREN can defeat me? Or did you return for another beating?”

“How. Dare. You.” Ladybug hissed, looking like she dearly wished she was Kryptonian so she could murder his father with eye lasers.

“...Why.”

His father frowned. “Excuse me?”

“WHY?!” Chat yelled, clenching his fist. “Why would you DO this?! HOW could you do this?!”

“To bring her back to me,” His father gestured at the pod behind him, “I would do ANYTHING.”

Chat gritted his teeth. “She would HATE what you’ve done. Hate YOU. Mom wouldn’t want this!”

He froze.

OH NO.

“...Adrien?”

He didn’t answer, just intensifying his glare in response.

“You would let your mother stay like this? How ashamed would she be of you, of her SON, who should love her above all else?”

Ashamed?

No…

NO.

She wouldn’t be… Mom wouldn’t be… she cared. She was a GOOD PERSON. There’s no way she’d go along with father’s plans!

She- she wouldn’t be ashamed of him… right?

Guilt gnawed at his stomach.

He glanced over at Ladybug, still glaring daggers at Hawkmoth.

Even if she was… he couldn’t betray his friends. Couldn’t endanger people.

He may be a bad son.

But he just… couldn’t do that.

His father rushed forwards suddenly, driving his cane into Chat’s stomach.

All air left his lungs as he was flattened on the floor.

Leaving him motionless, unable to scrape together the energy to do more than twitch.

His father loomed over him, glaring down, angry and disappointed.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Ladybug barreled into his father, sending him flying.

Leaning down, she took Chat’s hand. “Don’t listen to a word he says. Don’t let him reverse the roles. HE’S the bad guy, NOT YOU. You hear me, Chat? NOT. YOU.”

He teared up, giving her a quick hug.

Wait.

Why wasn’t his father attacking?

“TOUCH HIM AGAIN AND I’LL KILL YOU!”

*sning* *sning*

Chat watched as Robin swiped at Hawkmoth with the long metal claws he’d just extended from his gloves.

Ok, how did ROBIN have retractable claws while he didn’t?!

Hawkmoth dodged most of the blows, though a few connected.

Mere metal couldn’t pierce a Miraculous-made suit.

But it didn’t need to.

Chat narrowed his eyes.

At first glance, it looked like Robin was simply swinging wildly in a rage, attempting to hurt Hawkmoth as much as possible. But looking closer, most of the blows were just below the neck area.

Right where the Butterfly Miraculous rested.

Unfortunately, his father realized it too.

He jumped back thirty feet, far out of range.

Cursing profusely, Robin attempted to follow him, firing off a zipline, swinging himself closer to Hawkmoth.

But to no avail. His father simply jumped out of range again.

Chat staggered to his feet, Ladybug slinging her arm around his shoulders, propping him up. “I’m- I’m okay. We have to-” he sputtered out.

He glanced behind Ladybug.

“MOVE!”

He threw himself and Ladybug to the side, rolling them out of the way of Hawkmoth’s attack.

But that didn’t save him from the follow-up hit.

His father slammed his cane into Chat’s back. “You’d go this far for HER, for some girl, but not for your own mother?!” he sneered. “These friends of yours… they only want to drag you down, use you.”

Ladybug extracted herself from Chat’s embrace and threw her yo-yo, attempting to lasso his father. He knocked the yo-yo aside. “If Ladybug cared for you, she’d use her Miraculous and yours to revive your mother!”

He kicked Ladybug to the floor, leaving both her and Chat groaning. Slowly he walked towards Chat, seeming to savor the moment. “Oh Adrien… I gave you everything you could need. I raised you to be perfect. I gave you tutors, let you build your brand and influence by allowing you to model for me, even allowed you to hang out with your so-called friends, so long as they weren’t proving harmful to your education or reputation. I see now that was a mistake. They’ve poisoned you. The son I knew would never have done anything to endanger his mother. Would have obeyed his father.”

Chat turned over, attempting to crawl away - both from his father, and from Ladybug.

His father was targeting him. If he could lead him away, then maybe His Lady could flee, get away long enough to come up with some sort of plan.

Besides his… his father couldn’t really- he knew he was awful, but he’s his own son! He’d- he’d-

“Stop,” he forced out, attempting to put as much distance as he could between him and his father. His father stared down at him with cold, hard eyes. Same as he always did.

He reached for Chat’s hand.

“CATACLYSM!”

The black, destructive energy surrounded his hand. His father cursed, grabbing Chat’s wrist tightly enough that it felt like it was leaving bruises, lifting him off the ground.

A light dawned in his father’s eyes. He grinned.

“You want to keep the ring? So be it.”

He pressed a button on his cane, opening the top.

Chat watched, horrified, as an akuma fluttered out.

“ADRIEN!”

He looked to the side. Ladybug ran toward him, a polka-dotted bag in her hand.

She was too far away. She wouldn’t be able to get to him in time.

She didn’t have to.

A figure dropped from above.

The butterfly entered Robin’s left glove.

“Well, this is unexpected,” his father mused.

Robin clutched his head. “GET. OUT.”

“You believe that no one will forgive you for your past actions, that you’re irrevocably tainted, incapable of washing the blood off of your hands.” his father crooned.

“Shut up…” Robin gritted out.

Blood on his hands? The kid hadn’t even hit puberty yet.

What the heck was Robin’s past like?

“Your mother had you killed, your father and brothers only tolerate you because they don’t know the true depths of your evil.”

“YOU. DON’T. KNOW. ME.” Robin screamed.

“But I understand. I can help you. With my help, you can erase everything wrong you did, undo all harm. You won’t have to worry about the rest of your family abandoning you anymore, and finally you can be free of the guilt.”

“I… I don’t…”

Robin sounded… lost. Confused. Like a small child, wandering around looking for something, anything familiar to cling to.

From what his father was describing, it was no wonder. Seriously, what the HELL had this kid been through?

“Just bring me Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculous, and I can help you fix EVERYTHING.”

“I…”

*THWACK*

A red-and-black spotted bag rammed down on Hawkmoth’s head, using Chat’s staff as a handle.

Which normally would probably be as effective as using a plastic bag on Robin had been earlier.

...Except that Ladybug had apparently learned from that and decided to do more than just temporarily blind Hawkmoth for two seconds.

Namely, by using the make-shift butterfly net to scoop up several of the soon-to-be-akumas in it first.

And with his father already having his mouth open to continue monologuing…

He coughed and sputtered as several butterflies invaded his mouth.

Taking advantage of his father’s distraction, Chat quickly rolled to his feet, reaching out and touching Robin’s glove with his still-active cataclysm.

The glove disintegrated, freeing the akuma.

Ladybug quickly caught it in her yo-yo, before attempting to wrap it around his father again.

He stumbled back, spitting out butterfly wings - but still managed to just avoid the string.

The butterfly brooch pulled away, seemingly on its own.

His father froze, as Hawkmoth was replaced by Gabriel Agreste.

“Wha-”

He tried to snatch the brooch out of midair where it floated, but it darted away.

The brooch zoomed off. His father tried to run after it, but Ladybug was having none of it. For the third time, she tried to lasso him.

This time, she succeeded.

He crashed to the floor, cursing.

The brooch floated towards Robin.

Ducard flickered into view, holding the Miraculous.

Oh.

So his memories of her appearing out of thin air weren’t delusions; she could turn invisible.

She must’ve been sneaking around the entire battle, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Shakily he walked over to his father.

He glared up at him, sneering - but with a hint of fear in his eyes.

Only a couple minutes ago his father had loomed over him.

Now their situations were reversed.

Looking down at him like this, he didn’t seem like the powerful, terrifying figure he’d been moments before - had been for most of Adrien’s life if he was being honest with himself.

But now? He was just a guy.

He wasn’t some overwhelming force, overshadowing everything Adrien thought or did.

Nor a looming threat over all of Paris, waiting to prey on any negative emotion, any moment of sadness, anger, or fear.

He was just a man.

He always had been.

“Well?” his father spat. “Are you really going to do this, my son? Leave your mother in a coma? Strike back against me?”

“Stop calling me that,” he hissed. “DON’T call me your son - not after this. You never cared about me as a person, as your son - just as your property. You didn’t ‘allow’ me to model for you - you mandated it. I didn’t want to ‘build my brand’ - just have friends, go outside - be a regular kid! But that wasn’t something you cared about so it didn’t matter to you.

And you’ve been doing the same thing as Hawkmoth! I love Mom, I want her back - but the price would be to submit someone else to her fate. I can’t do that. Even if I didn’t know them, someone else would still pay the price. Whether they were close to me personally, they still matter.

But not to you. You only place value on those you consider to belong to you. And even then only when they do what you consider ‘acceptable’. Everyone else is just… just tools for you to get what you want, or obstacles to get in your way!”

He turned away. “I won’t be your tool. Not anymore. I’m not yours.”

“How COULD you! I gave you everythi-”

*CRACK*

Chat whipped around.

Gabriel lay on the ground, unconscious. Robin standing beside him, fist still extended.

“What? Did you really need to listen to him rant on anymore?” Robin asked.

Chat shook his head. “No, I- thank you.”

His Miraculous beeped twice.

Three paw pads left.

“Claws in.”

Light flashed over him, Plagg leaving the ring.

Adrien pulled out some cheese for him from his inside jacket pocket.

Watching Plagg devour the cheese wedge, his stomach seized as he thought of something.

“I’m- I’m going to have to give you back,” he stammered, his face green.

Plagg paused his eating. “What nonsense are you talking about? I thought we settled this before. I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me, kid.”

“But - I don’t have a choice now,” his eyes watered. He fought to keep them down. He had a feeling that if he started crying right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “He knows I’m Chat Noir. He might not be able to do anything himself, but what’s going to stop him from just telling everyone? Even if the media refused to air it, he’s bound to run into people in prison he can tell.”

“He won’t tell anyone, because he won’t remember.”

Adrien turned towards Robin, worried. “You knocked him out so hard you gave him amnesia?”

Robin scoffed. “No. If I tried, he’d probably end up in the hospital for brain damage. I know of an organization with a special tool that can erase memories like that.”

“...Should I ask whether this is legal?”

“No.”

“Is it safe at least?”

“For this? It shouldn’t cause him any harm. There’s not much to make him forget.”

He breathed out. He was still trepidatious, but… well, some part of him wanted to trust Robin. And if it came between Gabriel’s safety and Plagg’s safety? (And he wasn’t going to kid himself, Plagg would try to follow him even if he gave the Black Cat Miraculous back to Fu.) He would choose Plagg.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder. “Adrien? Are you- of course you’re not okay, who would be? But…”

He shot her a small smile. It felt false. “I’ll be fine.”

Her eyebrows creased. She looked even more worried, but didn’t press the subject.

Ducard walked over to Ladybug, handing over the brooch. “I’m guessing you know what to do with this?”

She nodded. “We’ll make sure the Miraculous goes where it belongs,” she said, taking the piece of jewelry and stowing it in her yo-yo.

Adrien wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was so… final. He kept on believing that in a minute he might blink and be back where he was, with Hawkmoth leering over him, winding up to hit him.

But… the brooch was gone now. He couldn’t just… wake up and grab it. It was out of his reach, even if he did wake up unexpectedly.

It just seemed unreal.

Ladybug retrieved her Lucky Charm, throwing it into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The ladybugs swirled around them, repairing what little damage had been done.

The raw ache in Adrien’s body disappeared. He hadn’t even realized how much he was still feeling his father’s beating until it was gone.

A ringtone sounded from his father’s unconscious body. Adrien blinked.

Mechanically he walked over, looking at the caller ID.

Nathalie’s face greeted him.

He stared numbly. In the excitement, he’d forgotten about her.

Robin checked his monitoring device. “She’s in Gabriel’s office, heading over to the painting.”

Heading over to-

His stomach seized.

She definitely knew.

He’d assumed she did, but-

“Everyone, HIDE!” Robin hissed.

Ladybug’s earrings beeped. He glanced at them. Only one dot left now.

She cursed, dragging his father into the foliage before crouching down herself.

Adrien followed her lead, crouching down beneath a bush.

“Spots off,” she muttered, detransforming.

The yo-yo string that had been wrapped around his father disappeared, leaving him limp on the ground.

Adrien froze, staring at him.

Marinette was right there, within easy reach if he woke up.

He wasn’t moving beyond the slow, soft rising and falling of his chest.

But- what if he was faking?

He shook his head. No, no. Robin had knocked him out himself. And while his way of making friends was… questionable, his skill was not.

So why couldn’t he stop seeing images of him waking up? Of him grabbing her by the neck while she was looking away? Ripping her earrings out, and-

His train of thought ground to a halt, refusing to contemplate what his father might do if Marinette resisted.

“Breathe, kid, breathe,” Plagg’s voice whispered.

He took a breath, letting it out slowly.

Still, he couldn’t help staring, looking for the slightest twitch of movement.

*whirreeee*

Until the noise started up, that is.

He looked over to the elevator, tensing. He wanted to keep watching his father, but with danger on two fronts…

*clunk*

The elevator landed, its doors opening.

Nathalie - his father’s assistant, the woman who’d been mostly parenting him since his mother... disappeared, who he thought might even become his stepmother - stepped out.

Hawkmoth’s accomplice.

She looked around. “Sir? You didn’t answer your phone, are you- AAAH!”

Tripping seemingly on thin air (though Adrien suspected it was rather more solid than that), she faceplanted onto the floor.

As she struggled to get back up, something seemed to be pinning her in place.

“Wha- who-?”

Robin jumped down from where he’d been hanging, retracting his grappling gun’s line.

“This is assault!” Nathalie spat. “I don’t know how they do things in Gotham, but-”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to protest taking down Hawkmoth’s accomplice,” Robin sneered.

Fear flashed across her face. Still, she did her best to maintain her composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Right. You just HAPPENED to wander down to Hawkmoth’s lair, filled with the butterflies he uses, Gabriel’s comatose supposedly-dead wife, while calling for Gabriel.”

She glared at him as best she could while face-down, pinned to the ground. “Our lawyers will hear about this.”

“You do that.” Robin put one of his gloved hands over her face. Within seconds she stopped struggling, going limp.

“You can come out now,” he called out.

Adrien emerged from the bush. He looked over at Marinette, making sure she was well out of Gabriel’s (potential) reach, before walking over to Nathalie’s prone form.

“What did you do to her?” he asked slowly. Intellectually he knew that Nathalie had helped his father, had helped Hawkmoth, but… right now, it was hard to see anything but the woman who’d taken care of him for the past several months. Even knowing what she’d done, he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“Same thing I did to you and Marinette. She’ll wake up in a few hours.”

“Wait, you had that stuff still on hand?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then why didn’t you use that to knock my father out?”

“I wanted to punch him,” Robin said simply.

Adrien opened his mouth… and then closed it. He couldn't really deny that sentiment.

“What now?” he asked instead.

Robin looked at him. “You two can head home. I can take it from here.”

Marinette stalked up, seeming like she was about to protest… and then glanced over at Adrien. Her face softened. She looked back over at Robin. “DON’T hurt Nathalie, and make sure to give Gabriel back after wiping his memory. They’ll need to stand trial. And if you find the Peacock Miraculous, give it STRAIGHT over. No tests, no funny business. Got that?”

He glared at her a moment, but nodded. Ducard cut in, “I’ll make sure you get the Peacock back, don’t worry.”

She stared at them both, as if searching for their intentions, then nodded.

Turning towards Adrien, she gave him a small smile, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Come on kitty, let’s go home.”

Home…? Where…?

With her.

She meant going home WITH HER.

Shakily he drew in breath. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

His father might be a monster.

His caretaker might be an accomplice.

His mother might be unconscious.

But he still had people who loved him.

He still had places to call home.

#We're the same #ml fanfic #Hawkmoth defeat #Damian wayne #Adrien agreste #Maya ducard #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug

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thermopylod · 4 years

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With a 2+ month delay, the epilogue to Interrupted Lines. Sorry this took so long, for those who were waiting :)

February had felt like a slice of heaven, the taste of Yu like ambrosia on his lips, but all good things had to come to an end. So it was that Yosuke found himself running alongside his friends in a little train station unused to such fervent goodbyes. When the train finally went too far for even its taillights to be distinguishable in the distance, he slowly walked back, and sat on the solitary bench on the platform, right underneath the great clock. The others crowded around him to cheer him up, but he only gave them absent smiles when they tried to suggest one activity or another to occupy the rest of his day.

He knew they meant well, trying to distract him, but Yosuke found that he wasn’t quite ready to go home and get on with his life yet. He was… sad, of course, but that was a given. That was fine; it would have been much more worrying if he hadn’t been sad. That wasn’t why he wanted to sit here a while longer.

Yu would come to visit for Golden Week in just a few short months, and maybe Yosuke would get to go see him before that, so this wasn’t some permanent goodbye, but his departure still felt like the end of a chapter, if not of the whole story. That feeling, of endings and new beginnings, had Yosuke feeling uncharacteristically introspective as he watched clouds flow across the sky.

He wasn’t the same person who’d ridden into this very station a year and some months ago anymore. He knew he had a few months left before he could call himself an adult, but sometimes it surprised him how much he’d grown over so short a time. He felt like he knew who he was, these days, in a way he never truly had before—back when he’d only been going through the motions, letting magazines and TV tell him what he liked and disliked, what his dreams were. Somehow, in the process of saving the world, he wondered if maybe he hadn’t saved himself, too.

The others were long gone by the time he finally picked up the wrapped package that sat next to him; even Teddie had headed home after giving him an uncharacteristically gentle hug and a pat on the head that had made him laugh.

“From Yu,” the elaborately handwritten tag read. Yu. Everything had revolved around him this past year, of course. It was almost strange to imagine life in Inaba moving on without him, so completely had he permeated every layer of the small town’s society. Last year, Yosuke’d resented him for that. He’d been jealous of the way the mantle of leadership settled on his shoulders like it had always belonged there, of the magnetic way he drew others to him; and then there’d been that colossal mistake of a summer, and he’d been angry at feeling like a joke, like a toy to be discarded and replaced when it didn’t perform as expected.

But even that had been part of the journey; he’d learned a lot about himself on those late, lonely nights sitting by the Samegawa. In that darkness, he’d finally managed to stop lying, at least to himself, and admit that maybe what he’d been most scared of all this time was of himself, and of the dreams and hopes that didn’t fit the mold he’d expected his life to fit into. It was a strange thing, honesty; it was both so much harder to face, and yet so much simpler to live with, than denial. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise after the TV world; hadn’t that been its message all along? Accept yourself.

So Yosuke had accepted himself. He’d accepted that he wanted more from life than slowly climbing the ladder of retail work at Junes, spending his money on whatever he was told the right clothes and the right movies were that month. He’d accepted that he couldn’t always be the happy, comic-relief friend people expected him to be. And, perhaps hardest of all, he’d accepted that he didn’t dream of soft curves and sleek long hair at night, but rather of a silver bowl cut and muscles that were anything but delicate.

He’d been jealous at the beginning, but it was much harder to resent someone when you’d seen them broken, sobbing in a cold November snow, and when all the envy and the anger and the fear had fallen away, all that had been left was love.

Yosuke smiled as he sliced through the tape on the expertly-wrapped package with the edge of his nail. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Mr. “Good With His Hands” Narukami. To his surprise, it revealed a worn novel he recognized; he knew that specific copy, having seen it on Yu’s shelf every time he’d come over to his house. It was one of Yu’s favorite books, which he’d had from childhood. Yosuke had promised to read it over their time apart so they could discuss it the next time they met, but he hadn’t expected to be given the original copy.

He carefully opened the front cover, mindful of the threadbare spine, to find that Yu had not only given him one of his most prized possessions, but had even defaced it for him. The entire double page was filled with Yu’s neat handwriting.

To my beloved partner, Yosuke started reading, letting his fingers trail over the slight indentation the ballpoint pen had left in the paper.

Thank you for this past year. I’m sorry that I haven’t always been the best friend I could be to you; I can only promise not to make the same mistake again, and hope that you will stop me if I ever am too much of a fool for my own good again.

It’s hard to put into words how deep my affection for you runs, but unfortunately I can’t simply show it to you anymore, so words are all that I have. I could ramble on about the color of your eyes, the perfection of your face or the charm of your smile, but I’m sure you’ve heard me do that often enough to be tired of it by now. Nonetheless, let me reiterate how lucky I am that someone as beautiful as you would love me.

But more than your appearance, it is your very being that I love—your optimism, your kindness, your relentless motivation to do good. I feel that I am the best person I can be when I am next to you, if only because your goodness reflects onto me. I hope you will allow me to continue standing by your side for many years to come.

I wrote this in pen so I wouldn’t be able to go back and change anything, because I was afraid of being too much of a coward and erasing everything, but I think I kinda got way too sentimental there. Sorry! I know we’ve only been dating for a month and this is all a bit much. I have to admit, while I hope it doesn’t scare you, I truly mean all of it. It feels like it’s been so much longer to me. I can’t imagine anyone ever being as close to me as you are.

Speaking of things that are maybe a little premature, you should go see Daidara. He’s got a gift for you, from me. Before you freak out about it—no, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just something I wore a lot this past year that I wanted you to have to remember me by. The day when I get you one that means something, I’ll make sure it’s much more special than that one, I promise.

I’m going to miss you so much, Yosuke. There’s no place I’d rather be than in your arms. I’m really sad I have to leave, but I’m not afraid. We took a long and twisted path and still managed to make it to each other; whatever life tries to throw at us, I know we’ll overcome those obstacles, too. After all, you’re my one and only partner.

Love

Your Yu

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

In a train not so far away, although getting steadily farther by the minute, Yu pulled on a familiar pair of orange headphones. Yosuke had shoved them around his neck moments before the train doors closed, probably well aware that he would have tried to give them back otherwise. They were such an integral part of Yosuke that it seemed wrong for the two to be separated. Now, as he felt their familiar weight on his head—Yosuke often slipped them over his ears to share his latest favorite song with him—he was glad he hadn’t had a chance to return them. In a way, it was almost like a piece of Yosuke was coming with him.

As the train picked up speed, he unlocked the small music player that dangled from the cable. On the main screen, a single playlist appeared, titled, in true Yosuke fashion, “listn2me.” Yu smiled and hit play.

The opening chords of the song were unfamiliar, which didn’t surprise Yu. He didn’t listen to music much, and rarely knew any of the songs Yosuke shared with him. It was more unexpected when the voice that started singing turned out to be very familiar. Yu gasped out loud, causing the person sitting next to him to glance in his direction with a concerned expression.

He gave them a small shake of his head and they turned back to their book while he started the song over from the beginning. Now that he was listening for it, the sound quality was clearly not that of a produced album, as beautiful as it sounded. Yu closed his eyes and reached up to place a hand over one of the earpieces, losing himself in Yosuke’s singing voice.

He didn’t quite follow the lyrics; there would be time for that later, for deciphering every word, for picking out the meaning of every line. For now, he let himself just experience the music and the emotions they carried, an eclectic mix of melancholy, joy, excitement and determination that perfectly reflected Yosuke himself. They weren’t love songs, at least not in any obvious way, but that was right, too. Yu spoke Yosuke’s language well enough by now to easily translate this—the headphones, the playlist, the painstakingly recorded songs—into the love letter that they were meant to be, and he wouldn’t have changed any part of it for the world.

[comments/kudos welcome on ao3! <3]

#persona 4 #souyo #souji seta #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #fanfic #fic #my wordy words #I am free!

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tara-l-blackmore · 5 years

Text

The MWS Unit (or Iso)

Here's the thing about it.

I spent months upon months petrified of this experience. I would find myself suddenly scream-crying in my shower, so certain this would be one of the very last times I'll ever shower in my own house. I would look at Milo and just grab him and hug him, soak him in my tears and make him squirm away and wonder why I had suddenly lost my mind, because I was certain he would die before I could be freed.

I would log on to social media and stare paralysed at a screen of emails and messages, asking me how I was, and all I could think of was that if I never replied again, what would happen? If I lost them, if I could never get out, would they understand, would they not hate me for it? Or would they think I’d abandoned them, and hate me forever for it? And I could never ask, because I was too afraid of the answer, despite knowing how kind those few people are.

The worst was the fear over Terry.

He did nothing to stir it, to worsen it. He did everything in his power to steer my fragile mind away from that horror. But it didn't matter. It just didn't matter.

I stayed awake at night, staring at the ceiling, holding him and listening to his stupid obnoxious snoring and cry silently, wondering if I would regret hating that annoying nasally sound. I would watch the door close every morning, and dread that I would lose him on the other side of it, while I was trapped and not even able to escape to help him, to save him, to… to at least…

I was certain everyone would forget about me, that the time limit I was given was a lie to keep me calm, and that I would never, ever be released from that place, again. I had built up this place like it would be the insane asylum of all of my literary heroes, and I was just following them – and all without the being an author part. I would have a room of my own – forever.

So you could imagine my surprise when, the moment I walked into a room that had likely seen countless deaths, suicides, code blues, etc., and I sensed… none of it. I walked into that small room and felt absolutely nothing.

Let me back track a bit more.

While preparing for the time to get there, I realised something that had never happened before: I couldn't visualise or see it. Whenever I’m bound for some sort of adventure of some kind, good or bad, I can always picture it in advance. The majority of times, I’m wrong, but I can still see something.

But for iso, I saw absolutely nothing. And it terrified me, to the point of being certain that it meant I either wouldn't live to see it – or would die while there.

My fears grew. I became distant. I knew I could only depend on perhaps two or three people, and yet I still tried not to. I yearned to depend on others, only to be greeted with silence and apathy. My mentality worsened, I was certain this meant the end, and I started crying, every day, no matter what. I tried to do it alone, but usually failed – especially if Terry was there beside me.

But he wouldn't be – no one would be – and I was terrified. No one was allowed to visit, to even drop things off for me, and I was terrified of being abandoned there, whether it be left there forever, or come out of there with nothing and no one left.

I was so certain that this blind spot meant that it was the end, and nothing mattered, anymore.

But instead of saying any of it, all I did was just… pretend I was fine.

We woke up at 6, and I started shaking right away. I thought it was just because I was starting withdrawal, or I was overtired, but I actually did manage to sleep rather well the night before – Terry appropriately wore me out – but the second I got into the shower, I knew better: it was fear.

Was this the last time I’d ever see this place? That was my only thought, with everything I did.

Until, finally, it was time to go.

I'd been fully packed for two weeks, as they warned us to be ready for a 24-hour notice. And we got it. So it was easy to drag my stuff down to the garage.

I cried the entire time, trying to stop, trying to be strong for Terry, but I failed, and he was strong for me. The drive was quiet, full of silent tears and sips of cold coffee, but we got there early.

We spent the early half-hour in each other's arms. Now that we were there, it felt real, it felt true, and I was paralysed with fear. Again, Terry was the strong one – until finally, they sent someone down, and it was time to go.

We hugged, I cried, I think he might have teared up a little, and then we kissed and said goodbye – and see you next week.

Then, I was led away, and the doors closed.

The lady was kind, carrying the things I could not and welcoming me here. I was warned, however, that there was a fire drill going on, so there would be an hour delay in my check-in. This was bad news, as I was already feeling absolutely terrible.

Or so I thought.

But I smiled and nodded and let her lead me into the kitchen/common room, to wait for it to be over.

That's where I met J. He greeted me and was friendly, asked if I wanted food, and asked how long I was going to stay. I was shaking the whole time – he was a tall white man, and they sometimes make me nervous – but he did nothing to send my alarm bells off – not even when he mentioned being in jail.

“What're you here for? Alcohol?” he asked me.

“No; pain and opiate control,” I confessed.

i made a small joke, then, and to my surprise, it made him guffaw.

“Well, Tara, I hope you like it here,” he concluded. “It's really good.”

“I can see that,” I agreed, and he left.

I waited a bit more, bored and feeling gross, until I was found again and taken to the doctor.

I was weighed, measured, and photographed, given a keycard necklace to wear at all times, and then they took both blood and urine. I then spoke to the doctor – Dr F – about what I hoped to achieve while there.

“I'm not expecting a miracle,” I muttered, starting to feel sick. “I just want to be a housewife. I want to go see my niece and not want to die from pain after.” I met his gaze. “I want to see her at least graduate elementary school.”

He took me seriously, and no doctor had ever done that, before. He named my condition “suffering”, and for the first time, I realised that this was true. And I cried, shocked that someone I just met had more compassion than people I’d known for decades.

“Most of all,” I choked out, “I just want to make my husband happy.”

“I’m sure he wants the same for you,” Dr F agreed, “and part of that is to ease your suffering.”

Needless to say, it was a very emotional interview.

I was then led to my room – and surrendered my suitcase. I came prepared for it, aware that a lot would be taken away, and I was right. They took three freezer bags of stuff I was not allowed to be alone with – including my perfume! – but whatever.

After, I spent a brief moment of quiet putting things away, feeling the bad feelings increase but still having hope that I would spend the worst moments distracted at the desk they offered or curled up at the chair with books.

I was so wrong.

The rest of the day was a blur, because it got repetitive. I had to repeat everything at least four times, and by the end, I was exhausted.

But by then, I was ready to start.

At first, it was okay. I felt gross, but assured that the meds now inside me would ease that gross, and I would feel better in mere hours.

Instead, it initiated a five-day long stupor of pain, vomit, sobbing, and repeat, followed by exhausted or sedated sleeps and sobbing into pillow cases, my body too weak to even sit at the chair to do anything. I had to drag myself with my walker simply to see. Everything hurt.

But I kept breathing.

It was hard to do just that.

Withdrawal makes you think you are dying. It robs your muscles of blood, of air, and it makes your stomach curdle and turn on itself. It makes food taste like ash, pieces no bigger than pencil erasers creating constant choking hazards, and it makes your dreams turn to nightmares of that so-certain impending death.

Every night, I sobbed myself to sleep. Every morning, my body woke me with trembled and heaves and cold sweats and crying, crying, crying…

I fasted. I needed phosphates. I slept through all the activities I’d hoped to go to.

My only defence was sleep or tears. I tried to watch shows or answer emails or even talk on Discord, but nothing came out. Nothing could come out.

Because while everything felt horrible and awful physically, mentally I was… fine. I did have bad dreams, but they vanished the second I awoke bathed in sweat to heave. I didn't hallucinate. I didn't have flashbacks. I didn't even faint.

I was just very sick and ill, and reluctant to share it with anyone, even the people I knew I could trust.

Until my fifth day, I was trapped in this endless cycle of illness. Nothing mattered. Nothing existed. I realised way too late that one of the other chicks stuck with me was flirting with me, crying too hard to realise it (probably a good thing). All I could do was push myself with my walker from room to nursing station, crying, then back, again.

The night of the fourth day was the first time I wondered if I should try to shower. I even asked, and even though I was advised not to, I wanted to, anyway. But when I tried, I didn't make it. My soap did – I threw it across the room – but I did not.

The fifth day, however, was one that woke with heaving, as usual – but there was a finite quality to it, a strange kind of calm that followed it, and I wondered. The whole day, I watched myself, and I found myself sitting at that desk, writing one of the prompts in a prompt book I wrote. Then I laid back down and fell asleep.

The new meds had finally begun to work.

Because when I woke next, I was able to eat a little. And then after, I managed a sit-down shower. I cried the entire time, and after, so proud of myself, and I felt like a human, again. It was the first time I wanted to pick up my phone, but sadly, when I tried to speak, I again choked up and hid away.

Days six and seven were much the same: I awoke sick, was given meds, and when I was calm, I snacked on vegetable cheese crackers that I brought with me, finally able to stomach small amounts of solid – if very masticated – food. I spent the days watching Netflix or reading a book my mom bought for me – or sleeping.

Every day, I saw Dr F, who was dismayed by my lack of improvement until day six. When he saw me then, he was surprised by the change, and realised that maybe there is more to my suffering than wanting drugs. He even asked me how it felt.

“It doesn't make me high – I know what that feels like – but it makes me feel better,” I replied.

“Then it's working as it should,” he revealed.

And of course, I started to cry, and I was given my release date. I sobbed all the way to my room.

The last day – day seven – I was well enough to shower in the morning (though I did have to lie down for a while after, exhausted), as well as attempt to eat the food (fail). I then spent the day between packing up, going on a grounds walk and pet therapy (more on those in a second), and I even managed to listen to a small singing group (whose song made me cry and I had to run away).

First, the grounds walk. I missed all of the other ones, despite promising my mother that no matter what, I would get outside. But the one day I was up to it, it was raining. I was the only one who went, so it was a short jaunt, but so worth it to me. The air was cold and fresh, and the rain was like kissed on my hot, feverish face. I cried yet again, adding to it in my own way, and collected leaves, because I’m a witch.

Then, the pet therapy. I waited all week for this, and it was worth it. A woman came in with a rescued fawn greyhound, and I melted for her. She had past scars, but was so well-behaved and loving that you'd never know she was abused for sport. But near the end, I got too emotional, missing Nim, and I again ran away. I spent the rest of the night sneaking snacks around the entire place, because I didn't want to take them home.

The last morning finally arrived, and for a while, I didn't really believe it. I expected them to tell me I needed to stay longer. I distracted myself with an early shower; they said be out by 8 am, so I showered at 6 and was done by 7. This time, I laughed and cried.

After it was confirmed that I was going home, it again becomes a blur. They did repeat blood-work, sent my new prescription to my pharmacy (or tried to, but because the place is basically run by defective robots, there were issues), and was sent back downstairs.

Then… Terry was there. Holding me. Squeezing me. And crying, almost as hard as me.

He'd missed me. He said he did, hated being alone, but until then, I never believed it.

It changed something in me. It made me start to calm down about us, about how strong we are, together. I feel… well, it's hard to explain. But in any case, it's amazing.

We drove home, I posted some tweets, and I ate real food for the first time in 8 days – a poutine. We fought the pharmacy and won, then we just… hung out. Talked about it. Held each other into the night.

And in the morning, when Terry laid across my legs as usual, I knew my heart was home, and I wept. I knew I was safe, I was not alone. I knew I had to make hard decisions, now, things I never knew I had to do, but once I did, I was freer.

Once I stood on my balcony, the wind in my hair and the chill up my robes, I knew: my new life has finally begun.

I fought with all I could.

And for the first time, when I needed to the most, I won.

I won.

#health #iso #MWS #MWSU #omoni & caster

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hey-hamlet · 5 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas : All for Family

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: Shouta and Izuku grow up the sons of the Japan's most powerful villain. They escape their fathers clutches and believe they are safe after they get wind of the massive battle between All Might and their father. They get a rude awakening the third day of Izuku's first year at UA.

aizawa and izuku are half brothers and are raised alongside tomura, afo is their biological father and they are both aware of this

afo never stopped them from doing anything? but he tried to poison them against heroes, it only worked on tomura.

Afo begrudgingly let aizawa remain in the hero course after the sports festival

when he graduated, his first mission is one he didnt warn anyone about. he went alone, thinking it was a suicide mission. he stole his youngest brother back from his father.

he asked if tomura wanted to come but he declined. afo didnt put up a fight.

they grow up knowing quirks arent all they are talked up to be, and that you can lose them with a moments warning

they knew about one for all the whole time, the day izuku gets it from all might they both cry because he can be a hero, but also because their father wants that quirk back more than he ever loved them

they though all might killed afo, but then the USJ and they both panic

toumra doesnt recognise izuku or aizawa bc they have masks in this au but the nomu cracks aizawa’s and tomura freezes

He tells kurogiri that the mission has changed, and that they are going to retrieve his big brother and izuku screams

izuku runs in to take his brother because he saved izuku and tomura k n o w s izuku is his missing little brother

izuku gets aizawa to safety but kurogiri portals izuku back and, as all might bursts through the door they take him

aizawa, concussed and bleeding, grabs allmights costume in his fist and tells him "he took my brother"

anyway, all might has to talk to aizawa and aizawa tells him about that he knows the story of all for one and one for all because all for one was his father

and he tells all might the all for one was kind to them, but controlling, absent and demanding all in one, he tells all might that their father may have loved them, but he wants that quirk more than he wants anything

and all might realizes how little he knows about izuku because he didnt know izuku lived with aizawa, he didnt know they were brothers. above all, he didnt know all for one was his father

aizawa, in his hospital bed, threaten to destroy all might if he hurts izuku for this and all might would never dream of it. he hates all for one and has only seen the man 4 times, what would it be like living with him?

also: aizawa, izuku and tomura all "know" all for one is their dad (tomura isnt afo's son but they dont know that)

aizawa knows his mother is alive, but nothing more. she could have been a surrogate or a villain for all he knows

izuku knows his mother is dead and he knows it was all for one that killed her

afo asks,,, "nicely" if izuku will give him his brothers quirk. izuku says no but the boy has trauma, hes really scared

afo sighs and says "at least its back in the family" and locks izuku in his old room

aizawa trying to sneak out to save izuku enough though hes covered in banages bc he want to save his little brother, and if hes lucky afo might not kill him

afo is kinda,,, worried? bc izuku wont eat or drink anything he gives him. izuku quietly says hed rather die than give ofa to him

so after like a week afo gives up because he doesnt want his son and his brothers quirk dying

izuku in this au seems to be quirkless but no one is 100% sure about that

he could be hiding one, have an invisible one or just be quirkless like everyone thinks

afo doesn’t mind hes quirkless. hes a terrible person but he finds family important, to the point that he just had kids to have them, no other motives

hes a little deranged but he looks after his family for no reason other than that they are "his"

AFO never taken aizawas quirk, his reason is " a gift freely given may not be freely taken"

secretly, his quirk doesnt work on direct relatives, he can give quirks to them but he cant take them back and hes bad at lying

training camp in the brother au

aizawa and izuku: kidnapped, bakugo: also kidnapped, allmight: feeling guilty

basically afo intends to make this the last fight between him and all might and he intends to win and he wants his sons to watch

basically izuku deals with muscular, a little easier bc he has black whip already. he basically yeets the guy into a mountain, its all chill

he finds aizawa and aizawa just cant leave his little brother so they take kouta to the others and then go out to find Katsuki

aizawa deals w tokoyami, compress grabs aizawa, compress also grabs Bakugo

they basically use bakugo and aizawa to lure izuku to the portal where they grab him too. iida, todoroki and ochako just miss saving him

izuku calls allmight when they get to the bar n hes crying and trying to stop them from getting him before all might picks up

allmight basically picks up to hear "dad has aizawa and kacch-" and he hears a scream and the line goes dead

dabi torched his phone, and by extension his arm, to get him to hang up. shigiraki makes very clear after that that hes the only person allowed to hurt his little brother

bakugo is lost, aizawa is furious

izuku is sobbing but aizawa has a feeling about that but hes not saying anything yet

afo turns on the screen and talks to them, izuku calls him "dad". izuku hasnt called him anything other than father since he was 4

tomura has his little speech about joining him, izuku is still crying and accepts a hug from him. bakugo is snarling because is deku the traitor??

izuku looks bakugo dead in the eye. hard of hearing bakugo and aizawa (dating a guy that sent his parents deaf).

and behind shigiraki's back signs "i" and "lie"

afo asks izuku for ofa, izuku tells him no but its shaky, and he wont look anyone in the eye

aizawa is begging izuku not to do it, bakugo is snarling. both of them look more afraid than angry

when allmight shows up, he frees bakugo, izuku and aizawa. but izuku and aizawa are taken away by afo, leaving bakugo behind with a shocked all might

all might rushes over to afo, bakugo panic calls kiri. kiri picks up and thats when afo appears and kiri, todoroki, ochako and momo are crying behind the wall as bakugo is stuck on the other end of the city, unable to help

afo takes out the heroes, all might appears and his quirk fails. aizawa is trying to rush in, activating his quirk while izuku tries to hold him back

all might tries to appeal to afo to leave uninvolved people out of this and he just looks at him.

"how are these two uninvolved? i want my sons to see the death of the man who tarnished their uncle’s legacy"

izuku is still holding aizawa back, allmight holds out his hand for him but izuku doesnt take it. he hides behind afo and afo looks overwhelmingly smug

izuku, making sure afo can hear, asks aizawa to stay way because he doesnt want his brother getting hurt

aizawa, wanting nothing more than to stay, backs off to the side where he can see his students, pretending to retreat

all might begs izuku to run, he stays behind afo, afo tells him to watch as he goes in to attack all might

suddenly afos quirk stops working, izuku pounces, shattering afo's breathing mask and getting him into a headlock

afos is clawing at izuku, allmight is lost

aizawa is yelling at allmight to hurry up and do something because he cant hold erasure much longer

the kids are scared but they are ready to join in the fight.

All might deals the final blow. he never transforms, the world doesn’t learn he had a smaller form.

they are safe

#bnha au #all for family au #aizawa shouta #dadzawa #brozawa #midoriya izuku #midoriya #eraserhead #sensei #AFO #all might #brothers aizawa and izuku #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #iida tenya #uraraka ochako #shigaraki tomura #shigiraki #tomura

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peppermintbee · 5 years

Text

15 easy changes that would have made Kairi a more compelling character

Ever since finishing KH3 I’ve been completely preoccupied with what a disservice the writing does for Kairi. This isn’t an unpopular opinion; the KH3 tag is full of complaints regarding Kairi’s treatment. I think what’s really disappointing is that fixing her portrayal wouldn’t require that much work. So, if I was Nomura’s co-writer for KH3, here are the changes I would have suggested.

1. Don’t put her in the time chamber to train

Not only does the pocket dimension cause plot holes (Why can’t Sora train there? Why didn’t Kairi and Lea become high level in there?) it’s only narrative purpose was to keep Kairi and Lea out of the story while Sora was visiting Disney worlds. Having her literally anywhere else, where Sora can see and talk with her, would have been better than that.

2. Let her train and travel with Sora

Conveniently, the game is set up perfectly for having Kairi as a team member. Sora starts the game at LV. 1 and Kairi is a beginner keyblade wielder. They could visit the Disney worlds and git gud together. We know team mechanics were programmed for Kairi, since she briefly fights alongside Sora at the end. In the Disney worlds you can have up to 4 team members, so it doesn’t seem like a stretch that at least one of them could be Kairi (and/or Lea). With that, the opportunities for character building are endless: team banter, selfies, special team attacks, commenting on the Disney stories, etc.

3. Or, give Kairi her own missions

Riku and Mickey are off screen because they are trying to find Aqua. Even though we don’t see much of them, this makes them active participants to the plot. Therefore, if she can’t be a team member, have Kairi be on her own important story mission. A really easy one would be involving her in the Twilight Town investigation to find Roxas’ data and/or rescue Ansem the Wise. Maybe one of the turncoat Org 13 members works with Kairi. At some point, Sora and Kairi’s paths would cross, and they’d work together just like Sora and Riku did.

4. Have Sora mention Kairi every once in a while

Honestly, this is such a low bar it’s sad the game didn’t clear it. Sora frequently mentions Riku in the Disney worlds when something reminds him of him, he tries to call him, and he even talks about Riku in the social media loading screens. Kairi doesn’t get the same amount of attention. (Riku also doesn’t talk about Kairi.) It makes it feel like Kairi is not a priority to the characters, which makes it hard to be invested in her while playing.

5. Have Sora and Kairi greet each other when they finally meet

The first time Sora and Kairi are in a room together is after Ventus gets saved and everyone is talking in Yen Sid’s room. During this scene, most of the time Kairi is OFF SCREEN and has almost no lines. When she finally talks, she apologizes to Aqua and says something about saving Namine. Sora and Kairi stand about 5 feet away from each other and he only looks at her when she’s talking. This is dumb, especially considering Kairi and Sora haven’t seen each other in person since KH2 (!!!), a game that she also had very little presence in, and now that she’s finally here, she may as well be a part of the wallpaper. While Sora and Riku are reunited in the most badass way possible (a dimension crossing rescue and summoning of the great rainbow keyblade), Sora and Kairi aren’t even given so much as a chance to say “hi.” Simply include few lines of them being excited to see one another. A hug, a compliment, an “I missed you,” ANYTHING.

6. Just rewrite the entire paopu scene

This scene has such wasted potential. It’s the first time Kairi and Sora really talk to each other, which already starves the scene of emotional impact because their relationship feels underdeveloped and unearned. If this scene had even a little bit of foundation setting (see the above list) it wouldn’t have felt so forced. I’d argue the only foundation their relationship has is from KH1, which not only is over a decade old for players, but the characters themselves have changed a lot since then.

Secondly, it is almost funny that a scene that’s supposed to be about Kairi and Sora starts with Sora talking about Riku. Would it have been so hard to put a scene change between the Riku/Repliku talk and this one and not awkwardly segue from Sora worrying about Riku to Kairi proposing to Sora.

Third, Sora shows almost no excitement about sharing a paopu fruit with Kairi until the very end, which only makes it feel more forced. He expresses shock, confusion, and even insinuates they don’t need to share a fruit since they are together in spirit. He says he’ll protect Kairi, which is kind of a lame promise since Sora protects all of his friends. Instead, Sora should have looked genuinely touched and excited about the paopu thing, and they should have made a promise that went beyond protecting each other, since that’s a given. (I do really like that Kairi vows to protect Sora, but considering what happens later it feels pretty hollow.)

8. Sora should protect Kairi with his keyblade, not a hug

Honestly, this was so dumb I don’t even know where to start. If there’s gonna be a Kairi hug, it should have been when they were reunited, or the paopu scene, or like... any other time. I get that it’s supposed to be a parallel to KH1, but that defense-hug made sense because Kairi was unarmed and untrained. (Plus, Kairi could actually shield heartless-Sora with her body. In this scene, Kairi and Sora are about the same size so it just looks like a normal hug, not protection). Just hours ago, Sora protected Riku from Aqua with his keyblade and it was badass. At the end of this scene, Riku protects Sora with his keyblade, and it’s badass. The hug isn’t badass, it’s stupid and it makes both Sora AND Kairi look incompetent, which it frustrating to witness.

9. Let Kairi literally protect Sora

As much as I like the scene where Riku protects Sora from the heartless cyclone, that would have been a perfect opportunity for Kairi to make good on her promise and protect Sora. We already know Riku will defend Sora, he did that in all the other KH games. Kairi shedding her damsel persona to defend Sora would have been amazing.

10. Play as Kairi in The Final World

If Kairi’s “light” is the reason Sora can persist in the final world, just abandon the whole deus-ex-kairi and let us play as Kairi. Kairi should collect the Sora fragments (or her own fragments), and save at least Sora and Riku’s heart. I think we should have been able to play as Kairi at some point anyway, but this seemed like an especially good time for it. That would elevate her role in saving Sora into something really believable, instead of Chirithy and Kairi just telling us she saved him when it feels like Sora just saved himself and everyone else (as usual).

11. Give Kairi a cool team attack

We only get to fight alongside Kairi for like, 10 minutes. At least give her a cool team attack. I’m not asking for a lot here.

12. Kairi doesn’t get kidnapped (and if she does, she goes down fighting)

Literally anyone else. I don’t care who. In fact, I think Riku would be a good candidate for kidnapping: not only does it subvert the damsel thing, but it would make the bad guys look pretty formidable if they were able to pull it off, and, Riku is important enough to Sora to “motivate” him to rescue him.

I’d rather she not get damseled at all, but if she really has to get kidnapped, it should at least be because she compromised her safety to save Sora or Lea. Then, when she’s grabbed, she should go down kicking and screaming, maybe taking out an Org member on the way out. Instead, the way it’s framed makes it looks like she got kidnapped because she sucks at fighting.

13. Give Kairi’s death/disappearance some real weight

I still stand by the fact that Riku is the one who should have been kidnapped but I digress. When Kairi explodes, Sora gets upset briefly before talking about closing Kingdom Hearts and receiving encouragement from his other friends. Xion reassures Sora that Kairi is fine, likely to justify why Sora gets over losing Kairi so fast. With a smile, Sora goes into the next battle and doesn’t mention Kairi until long after Xehanort is defeated. This makes her death feel like a cheap way to add superficial stakes and write Kairi out of the story (again). This can be fixed by having Sora react like a normal person, such as falling into complete despair or wracked with grief and vengeance, and having the other characters react appropriately too.

At the end of the story, Sora and the gang are weirdly understanding of Xehanort when he gives his sob story, even though he exploded Kairi just a little while ago, and they don’t even demand to know how to save her. It really makes it feel like they forgot about her.

14. Don’t gloss over Sora’s end-game rescue of Kairi

We’re shown that Sora saved her somehow and now he’s gone. That’s all the script thinks we need to know because the next game is about Sora and Riku just like most of the KH games. Not that I really want another game about Sora rescuing Kairi, but the fact that this is barely graced with explanation really makes it clear that Kairi is little more than a plot device to set up the next game. I don’t really know how to fix this other than not fridging Kairi, or bringing Kairi back right after Xehanort is defeated, or making the next game about Kairi saving Sora. Which brings us to my last fix...

15. Send Kairi after Sora, not Riku

Kairi explicitly said she was going to protect Sora. Therefore, she should be the one implied to search for Sora at the end of the game. Having her cry on the beach while Riku went after him was lazy and cheap and everyone knows it. But, I suppose it’s fitting end for a character that Nomura clearly didn’t care enough about to write decent character development for.

And there we have it, 15 ways to make Kairi more compelling. If the game included even a few of these, Kairi would have felt like a more meaningful person and not a watered down version of KH1 Kairi. I can only hope that the next game has some strong female characters that we can all root for, but honestly, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Let me know if you have any other suggestions, I want to hear them!

#kingdom hearts iii #kingdom hearts 3 #kairi #kh3 #kh3 spoilers #now that i finally got that out maybe I can move on with my life #kairi isn't even my fav but she was treated so unfairly i have to speak up #she was set up to have a great comeback but instead we got... this #kairi fans deserve better #kh fans deserve better #rewrite kh #words #kh text

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priincesspacificaarchive · 5 years

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40) things you said when you met my parents crime au

[i’m too lazy to tag the meme anymore. i literally wanted to write some dipifica while i was one so i figured i’d get rid of these.]

This was stupid. Stupid and dangerous.

But also kind of necessary. And sad.

And maybe exciting? On a weird level. And nerve-wracking, of course.

Lioness’s gut trembles and tumbles with all the emotions spinning inside of her. Her husband reaches over the gear shift and takes her left hand, pulling it to his mouth for a brief kiss, eyes still on the road ahead. Mason always knew what she was thinking. He could mostly control it by now, but having been together so long he didn’t feel the need to when it was just the two of them. Unless she makes it blatantly obvious that he’s invading her privacy. There was always a little nudge, like he was knocking on the door to her head.

“They’re going to love you.”

“You haven’t spoken to them since you were nineteen, corazon.”

He looks over her and grins, “I know, and I know they aren’t going to like a lot of other things that we have to tell them. But they’ll be happy I’m there. And they’ll love you.”

“By penalty of death, right?” she deadpans.

He rolls his eyes and looks back to the road. “Of course not, that’s only the lackeys.”

Her hand tightens around his. “It’s nice, seeing you like this. Almost like-”

“Something about crossing the border, I guess. I feel like a kid again.”

She looks over and grins at him, squeezes his hand again. “Good.“

➢

He parks the sleek black car in front of the house, and the moderate home immediately makes her feel completely overdressed. He looks to her, eyes sweet. “You look perfect, North Star. You always do.”

Her smile is stiff now, but she nods and squeezes his hand in hers again. He pulls away from her, opens his door and steps around the front of the car to let her out. “You did tell them we were coming, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“No.” The firm voice. He’s still getting over it himself. Of course he is. Her hand reaches out to his and holds it, he grips back tight.

They start up the front walk, eyes set on the door. Two people burst from inside, greying hair and fogging glasses in the heat. The woman is short, and what Lioness imagines Mabel would’ve grown up to look like. The man at her side is a beaming smile, something she’s seen from both twins, but he’s definitely more rugged. Like Stan.

“Mason!” The woman cries, tears already streaming down her unmade-up face as she rushes down the steps to him. Mason lets go of her hand as his mother comes faster towards him, bolting right into his chest and clinging to him. His father comes down much slower, the way he clings to the railing reminding Pacifica of how old they must be. He stops right behind his wife, hands on her shoulders as if to pry her from their son, but gently. Mrs. Pines steps back, wiping at her eyes, as Mr. Pines wraps his son in a bear hug of his own. Mason is content in these, clinging just enough for her to know this is as anticipated a moment for him as it was for them.

Mrs. Pines fixes her glasses and finally looks at her.

“Oh, my.” She tugs Mr. Pines’ sleeve. “George, look. Dipper brought a girl home.”

The old nickname does the trick, and Mason pulls away from his father and wraps an arm around her waist. He clears his throat. “Mom, call me Mason. Please.”

His mother has the decency to blush. “Of course, dear. I’m sorry. I just can’t believe my little boy is all grown up now.” She wipes at her eyes again.

Mr. Pines wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and smiles that beaming grin at her. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Pacifica Northwest.” She looks to Mason. “Well, Pines now, isn’t it then? Or maybe I’ll hyphenate.” She looks back to his parents. “It’s nice to meet you.” She reaches a hand out, and Mrs. Pines grabs it and pulls her into a hug.

“Oh it’s so nice to meet you, Pacifica! The kids told us all about you when they first came back.”

Pacifica forces an awkward giggle. “All the good first, I hope.”

George looks down at her. “Not exactly.”

She shrinks under him, pulling from Mrs. Pines to the safety of Mason’s side. Her eyes flick up to him, a dark look on his face. He clears his throat. “Not now, Dad.”

Pacifica looks back to Mrs. Pines and grins again. “No worries, Mrs. Pines. Mason’s tired from the trip.” Her hand laces with his and she squeezes, hard. A warning.

Mrs. Pines shakes her head. “Oh please, dear, call me Maggie.”

Pacifica grins. “I see why the naming theme, then.”

She shrugs. “George actually picked them, I just thought they sounded nice together.” She smiles so big her eyes wrinkle. “Your name is so unique, though. How do you get a name like Pacifica?”

Pacifica’s turn to shrug. “Your great-great grandfather founds a town in the Pacific Northwest. It’s a family name, actually.”

She looks back to Mason, who is smiling down at her like the goddess he’s carved her out to be. Her eyes flick to George, “No hard feelings. I wasn’t a nice kid.” He nods, and Pacifica’s hand on Mason tightens, asking what he’s done. Nothing he whispers in her head, but she doesn’t believe him. Fine. Temporary brain shut down. He’s sleeping with his eyes open. He’ll wake up in a sec.

Wake him now.

A few seconds tick by as they all look at George, Maggie curious as to what’s going on. Then George blinks and he looks around. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

Pacifica’s grin feels plastic. “No problem, George.”

Maggie waves them all towards the house, insisting they get inside before they’re all eaten alive by mosquitoes.

➢

Mason brings in their bags, only enough stuff for a couple nights. They can’t stay, they won’t. Pacifica sorts through their things, hanging up only what absolutely must be hung, separating out toiletries, and organizing things for a speedy getaway if necessary. When she’s finished, she and Mason head down to the main living area, where Maggie is sitting in a corner chair, knitting. A smaller chair is next to hers, a pile of different yarns between the two.

“So that’s where Mabel picked it up.”

Maggie shrugs, looking up from her work sheepishly. “She wanted to. We used to sit here and work on projects together.”

Pacifica smiles and nods and feels like the doll her parents always wanted to build her into. The thought makes her skin crawl.

George is seated in a Lay-Z-Boy, eyes on the Wheel of Fortune episode playing. “Got this one figured out yet, son?” He asks, pointing to the puzzle on-screen as she and Mason take seats on the couch between the two. Pacifica sits closest to George, in case Mason loses his cool again. He leans over to her over the arm of the Lay-Z-Boy. “Lil Mase here used to solve these puzzles faster than anyone I knew.”

Pacifica looks back at the puzzle, only a few letters out.

“Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln,” Mason says, eyes never straying from the TV. A few minutes later the puzzle is finished. Mason was right.

George taps her shoulder and winks at her. “Told you.”

Maggie puts down her knitting, then nods at George. George shuts off the TV with the remote.

Mason takes a deep breath.

It’s time.

Maggie is still smiling so brightly and George is still basking in the glow of a re-ignition in his son. It feels wrong to tell them now.

Maggie looks right at Mason. “We’re so glad you’re home, Mason. Even if you came back just to say hi we’d be overjoyed.” She looks down at her knitting needles, fiddles with them. Nervous tic. Then looks back up at her son. “And we’re so happy to meet your wife, Pacifica. But you said on the phone that there were some things you needed to tell us?”

Mason nods, clears his throat again. He’d been planning what he’d say for days, and now Pacifica straightens his shirt collar, trying oh-so-subtly to remind him she was here. Mason nods. “Yeah. Mom, Dad. Things aren’t good up in Gravity Falls.”

George shakes his head. “We know, son. We’ve seen some footage about gang activity. Are you and Mabel safe?”

Mason shakes his head. “That’s what I came to tell, you, actually. Mabel’s missing. She has been for a long time. She was involved with something not quite right last I saw her. She and her partner have disappeared. We haven’t been able to find or contact her. We presume she’s dead.”

Maggie gasps, loud and just as motherly as Pacifica expected, but George’s reaction surprises her. He curls into himself, she thinks she hears sobs. She knew this wouldn’t go well, knew there’d be extreme emotions, but this was getting to be too much. Her empathy was spiked so high she felt sick. Mason places a hand on her thigh, warm and reassuring. She reaches a hand out to George and it hovers right over his shoulder. She’s scared to physically touch him while he’s like this. Scared of his reaction or what would happen if she caught more of his emotion than she already had.

“We wanted to tell you in person,” Pacifica says, her throat raw, tears clawing at her eyes. There��s a shine to Mason’s as well, but nothing falls from either of them. “We’ve alerted who we could, but because of what we’re scared she was involved with, we didn’t want to alarm them and have them go after her, or worse, spook her further and have her get even further away. We have who we can looking for her, any trace of her. We’re doing all we can.” And it was true, Mabel was known in town for disappearing and reappearing in grand ways, but since she’d been off the radar for months, Mason got worried. He ordered lackeys to be on the lookout for her, contacted those on her side, pleading as a concerned twin brother. Her disappearance has wrecked him further than he’d let anyone see. Not even she had seen the full extent of how he was handling this one.

She rests a hand over his, squeezing comfortingly.

The parents are consoled briefly, and then excuse themselves to their bedroom for the evening. Mason turns his hand to lace their fingers. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

➢

He leads them up the stairs, past their guest room, to a pair of doors at the end of the hall. Mason’s nickname in black on a blue door. Mabel’s in rainbow colors and glitter on a pink one, the letters haphazard, while Mason’s are neat, almost blocky.

“Your old rooms?”

“Figured they’d have moved them around by now, but the doors don’t even seem touched.” He runs two fingers over the doorknob on his old door and examines them. No dust. He shakes himself out, then grabs the knob fully and opens the door. “I got to see your room. A lot, even. It’s only fair I let you see mine once.”

Pacifica steps through the doorway, and she feels twelve and haughty and on-top-of-the-world again. It’s like feeling the kid that Mason left behind. The walls are blue, the same blue as the door, a conspiracy board over his desk off to her left, his bed straight across the room. There’s a bookshelf, with mystery books and conspiracy theories and school trophies. Science club. She steps further into the room, hands gently running over anything she can reach. Mason flips off the lights, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling still have some green to them. He flips them back on, then walks over to her, hands on her hips, pulling her to him. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. For doing this. For taking this journey with me.”

“I love you,” she responds simply, blue eyes glowing in the moonlight coming through the window. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Even when I go places you can’t follow?”

“If you mean your head, I can get in there pretty easy. But if you mean a public bathroom…” she trails off with a bright grin, feeling like a teenager with him again.

He laughs, soft but genuine. He presses his forehead to hers, and she shifts, leaning up to kiss his birthmark.

#tiitaniumxwill #[you have one new message][asks]#[the princess has answered][answered asks]#[you'll never take us alive][crime!verse]#[he's my sun. he makes me shine like diamonds][ursa major]#[swore that death would do us part;call our crimes a work of art][lioness/ursa major]#[i don't have any actual good ideas about what the pines parents #are like so forgive my dumbness]#[also i don't like this one anymore but i rly iked it when i wrote it so have it anyway]#[drabble]

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3laxx · 5 years

Text

Trainwreck - Chapter 5

Ao3 / FF.net

Adrien watched helplessly as his partner hung on the train on one foot. That should’ve been his job. What Ladybug – Marinette – was doing at the moment would’ve been his job. He was tall enough to bend his knee and be way more secure than her, he could’ve pushed that button easily. And now she was most likely dropping herself to her death because he hadn’t been trustworthy enough. Because he sat in Alya’s and Nino’s apartment being useless, watching her die.

“-… train is approaching Aulnay-sous-Bois very quickly, already passing Villepinte. The police is evacuating the area around Gare du Nord. Meanwhile on the train the heroic emergency pilot, name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng as we were informed by the hospital now, is struggling to-…”

The camera switched from Gare du Nord where people were being evacuated by the police to Marinette, who was still outside. A picture of her appeared at the corner of the screen and her name was written underneath. The blonde held Alya tighter when he felt a tear dripping from her eyes onto his arm. The camera was shaky and many trees that were rushing by were blocking the view at their friend but Adrien could make out how she tried to reach farther down, her foot almost slipping from the pole that held her up. Her face was blurry and he couldn’t quite decipher her emotions but he could see she was in pain. Had she really been shot earlier?

The camera zoomed in even more but he still couldn’t exactly see what was making her be in pain.

Alya clutched his arm and whimpered from time to time, fearing for her best friend’s life.

But suddenly, Marinette reached up to pull something out of her pants pockets, then threw her arm down on whatever she was reaching for, creating a big cloud of smoke that came from inside the locomotive that made her vanish. He could barely see her holding her arm in front of her face, obviously surprised, then she was out of his view.

Alya cried out and her eyes widened in disbelief, as did his.

“-… lost eye contact to the emergency pilot! A big cloud of smoke is rising from the machinery but we don’t see the pilot anymore, did she fall? But the train is slowing down, apparently, the emergency pilot was able to activate the breaks-…”

Adrien gulped.

“Mari?! Marinette?! Are you still there?! Marinette!!”

The young woman could faintly hear her friend’s voice over their radio, worried out of his mind. The smoke made her foot slippery and the train was slowing erratically, making her swing unevenly, but at least it was slowing down.

She briefly considered letting herself fall, after all she lost her job, the love of her life and her position as agent in MIRACULOUS and would most likely be arrested when the train finally stopped. Her foot was about to slip and her hand on the pipe wouldn’t be able to hold herself up but something made her cling onto the pole with the tips of her toes.

The pen was still in her closed fist, the one she held in front of her face to not get the smoke into her eyes, nose or mouth.

“Marinette, fuck, are you okay?! Are you there?! Fuck, FUCK, Marinette, ANSWER ME! I can’t lose you, Marinette, PLEASE!!”

Nino cried, she could tell. His voice wavered but he bravely and full of hope waited until she would never answer him anymore.

She couldn’t bring out a word because of the thick smoke but managed to get a hold of a pole right when her foot slipped. Her legs fell down but luckily, she was strong enough so she could pull herself up. Quietly, she thanked Tikki for all the extra training sessions to strengthen her muscles and make her focus even when being in immediate danger to life.

With all her remaining will power and still hidden by the smoke, she pulled herself up on the gangway and robbed into the driver’s cabin, closing the door and leaning back against a wall. The train slowed down, she could feel it, but tears rolled down her cheeks. She saved the day, yes, managed to stop the train and prevent Paris from having to deal with a giant chemical bomb. But she lost everything. She rejected Adrien, she lost both her job and most likely Tikki and Chat with not being a MIRACULOUS agent anymore.

Nino had stopped screaming and instead sobbed. She felt bad for not answering sooner but to defend herself, she had almost died. So, she sat up straighter, flinching at the waves of pain that rolled through her body and fixed her helmet on her head, bringing the microphone up front again.

“N-Nino…”

“Mari?! Marinette?! Oh god, you’re alive?! Where are you, I don’t see you!!”

“I-… I’m back in-… In the driver’s cabin… Nino-…”

She heard his relief and slightly smiled to herself.

“God, I was so worried. Don’t you pull this kind of stunt on me ever again!”

Marinette laughed even though she was in great pain and had lost very much blood. It struck her mind like a lightning when she realized she had hung head down after being shot in the shoulder.

“I-… I won’t-… Promise… But Nino, c-could you send-… An ambulance to wherever this train will-… Stop? I lost-… Pretty much b-blood and I’m passing out…”

“Of course, Mari! You know what to do and please, try to stay conscious, alright?”

She huffed when pressing her hand on her injury, hissing in pain but then laughed.

“And don’t you d-dare send Marcel. He’s annoying wh-when saving m-me.”

“He’s on his way, Mari. You know he loves you.”, Nino chuckled when she groaned.

Adrien got up along with Alya, tears in his eyes. Tears of relief because his lady had been able to save the day but also because he didn’t know whether she was still alive or not.

He held out his hand for his friend, gesturing her to come with him.

“C’mon. Let’s look after her.”

Alya nodded, the last image of her best friend being engulfed by smoke constantly replaying in her mind.

“Y-Yeah…”

They emerged out of the building to run where the train would stop. And they never slowed down until they reached the engine.

Marinette clenched her teeth as the train gave one last push and then stopped. Relief flooded through her when she got up and looked out of the window.

The train stood on the railway to Gare du Nord, she could already see the big train station. She really had saved the day.

A little smile played around the corners of her mouth as she saw the helicopter in which Nino sat heading towards the nearest landing platform. Blue light caught her eye and she could make out an ambulance stopping on the street next to the train across the railways in between. Even from here she could make out Marcel’s red head jumping out and running to the back probably to get a litter.

She chuckled and shook her head, getting up. When she was out of the driver’s cabin, a few police cars pulled to the side of the road as well and she sighed. Grimacing because of her pain she made her way down the ladder that led up to the cabin and looked up again when she reached the gravel bed on the ground next to the train. Quite a few people were running up to her, mostly policemen, but two stood out. A blonde and a brown head were faster than everybody else, especially the blonde who would reach her first. She immediately identified them as her friends.

“A-Adrien…?”, she stammered as there was just one railway between them. Marinette swayed because of her blood loss but managed to stay upright and look at him questioningly, as he reached her.

“Mari! I’m so glad, I’m so glad you’re alive!”, he hugged her tight but made sure not to hurt her further.

She laid her chin on his shoulder as Alya reached them, pulling both of them in a tearful hug.

“Marinette, never ever dare to do that again!”, she sobbed, leaning her forehead against her best friend’s.

“Alya-… Adrien-… It’s alright, I just-…”, before she could finish her sentence, her knees gave way and her eyes rolled, “Uuughh… ‘m not feelin’ to good-…”

They luckily had held her tight so she didn’t fall to the ground but now, Adrien gently pried Alya off of her to lift the young woman up and lay her down on the litter Marcel and another emergency doctor had brought.

When his hands left her body, she suddenly felt cold so she reached for his hand and held it tight.

“Adrien-… I’m sorry for what I said before…”, she looked up to him and even though her vision blurred she saw him smile.

“It’s alright, I understand.”

“Y-You don’t! I-… I-I lied to you a-about not accepting your feelings…”, her words slurred and Marcel looked down at her with worry clouding his eyes, knowing they had to bring her to the hospital immediately but she had to set it right, here and now, “Adrien, I th-thought I was gonna die so… I had to.”

His eyes widened and he waited no longer but leaned down and kissed her. It was a short kiss, just a peck on the lips, but she knew he understood. He pulled away, slightly sharper because he was so close, but that was the last Marinette was able to see. Without further warning, her head rolled to the side and she was unconscious.

Let me know if you liked it?

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #ml #au #trainwreck #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #djwifi #adrienette #adrinette #tikki #plagg #freckles writes

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