#and one of the first few posts I see is about seething hatred for another person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tamagochiie · 4 years ago

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a line without a hook | part three.

part three. “merely tolerable, really.”

chapter synopsis. Had you known freedom tasted like this, you wouldn’t have bothered to form an attachment with Mr. Ackerman. Was there really a point in what you were doing?

word count. 7.5k

tags. swearing, angst, tones of misogyny

notes. This is a very late post, and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As for the upcoming chapter for this week, there may been another delay. I’ve been swamped with a lot of assignments and its my finals week, so I hope you all understand :/

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<< part two. | part four. >>

Your mother always told you gossip to women is like honey to a swarm of flies: you can catch more of them depending how sweet the scandal is. But she never thought to tell you what it'd be like if you were the honey, that the women would stick to you, drinking the life out of every little thing you do and unpack it together with their girl friends over afternoon tea and biscuits.

Your name, along with Mr. Ackerman's, had travelled from one tongue to the other in the last four days.

Each story are more intricately fabricated than the last. You heard all sorts of things, too many thing to keep track of — something about Mr. Ackerman's family background and more so yours, but you didn't want to pay heed over something that didn't come directly from the man himself.

And just the other day, while you commuted to town to deliver Reiner's forgotten lunch, you overhead a group of women whispering that you were already singing with the church bells.

You had shuddered at the thought and assumed it was something your mother must've cooked up given how she easily melted at Mr. Ackerman's feet when he came to visit a few days ago.

You and Mr. Ackerman were both aware that his visit, and all the kind and loving words he had said before you and your family, were merely for show. And that it was for purpose of sweeping your house clean of all trespassers and violators of your freedom.

But nonetheless, even with a letter that came to heed you of his visit, you were still left utterly speechless.

Mr. Ackerman had strolled into your cozy home, he hadn't been swathed in his usual drab choice of clothing, but settled with more pleasing fashion that didn't say,"I'm pessimistic and moody, and I've got a reputation for killing for sport".

He had been bathed in shades of blue, but still leaned on the darker side of the color spectrum. It had been a good change save for his signature cravat, and it led you to wonder just how many he owned.

You came to the conclusion he owned quite enough to be stitched together and make a thick and long blanket to last through the winter.

However, what had left you gobsmacked and rapidly blinking in succession was not Mr. Ackerman's slight change of style, but the little smirk across his lips while he spoke to your mother. His tone hadn't been clipped and did not drip in annoyance, but was a twinge softer — completely out of pocket for a man with a reputation for being dark and brooding.

Sasha, on the other hand, had been easily tickled in pure curiosity by Mr. Ackerman, poking and prodding him with peculiar and rather personal questions. You had expected he'd yell at her, seeing he'd be the kind of person to do that.

But he didn't snap. It was obvious his patience had been wearing thing, so he kept his replies quick and short just like his temper.

Pieck never spoke a word, but had instead observed the exchange as she sat on the couch, sandwiched between Connie and Jean while your mother had done her best to entertain Mr. Ackerman in small talk even though the man reeks of disdain for it.

Though Mr. Ackerman had successfully wooed your mother, and probably the rest of your sisters and Connie, Reiner was anything but.

Your brother protectively glued himself to your side, glaring down at Mr. Ackerman with a vexed look plastered across his scruffy face. Unfortunately, Reiner's attempt to be intimidating had fallen short and made you not only you, but Mr. Ackerman, suppress a stifling laugh.

Regardless of your brother's wishes, Mr. Ackerman's visit had been deemed fruitful. Your mother's eyes as well as her heart completely set on Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Ackerman alone.

To which both requests you firmly nodded and smiled at.

But your smile had been quick to fade.

You agreed to this little sham because you admired your freedom, but ever since Mr. Ackerman's visit, despite no men coming to bother you from the early hours of the morning till the late afternoon, you find yourself anything but free.

Your mother, the seventh circle of your personal hell, has taken it upon herself to berate you—tells you to make more of an effort on your appearance. She'll comment on how you sit, how you speak or how you eat, and every other thing you do.

You may have been liberated by the lusting grips of men, your mother's iron clad hold on even the thought of you being a few steps away from marriage is much tighter, and much more stubborn than you ever imagined.

So you spend your days hidden in your room, away from your mother and the rest of the world.

Sometimes you'll read or stare out the window, and when you do decide to step out of your little bubble, you'll be sure to check if the coast is clear from any possibly ambushes from your mother.

Though the only time you really do go out is to check the mail to see if Mr. Ackerman has written to you — he has not — or spend some time with your great love, your horse, Maria.

But for the most part, you plant yourself on the couch right up against window sill with your back slumped on the wall and legs sprawled out. You stare outside, not really looking at anything in particular.

Maybe the chickens.

You heavily sigh, fogging up the class as you gaze idly, twirling the ends of your hair. You grow jealous of the chickens and the roosters because at least they have their freedom. Their simple minds and their simple lives; the lay eggs and crow at dawn.

Damn chickens, you seethe in thought.

There's a faint knocking on your bedroom door that cease your internal tanget. You turn your head as the door creaks open, revealing your sister, Sasha, poking her head out between the gap. A friendly smile adorns her pink lips as she holds a plate of food in her hands.

"Can I come in?" She asks, already stepping inside. "I brought you food. You've been cooped up in here for too long, I thought you might be hungry."

You chuckle and motion her to come in.

Sasha moves briskly and steps inside before shutting the door behind her. She tiptoes across the room and over to you. She lightly taps your foot to make room and you swing it off the couch.

She places the tray between the two of you. A few loaves of bread, some grapes, and other fresh fruit that you assume she's stolen from the batch Reiner's supposed to sell.

She swipes the loaf of bread, breaking it in half and hands you the bigger piece before chewing her's down.

"You alright?" She asks, her words muffled by the bread. "Mamma's gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"

You bob your head, humming in response as you eat the bread bit by bit, taking your time.

Sasha follows your line of sight, checking to see what you've been so keenly staring at. Only to find that it's just a bunch of chickens running around.

"I'm overwhelmed," You confess breathily. You pull your legs up to your chest and rest your chin onto your knees. "I don't like the feeling one bit."

"Is it because of Mr. Ackerman?" Sasha looks at you with concern outlining the softness of her face. You don't really reply, just lulling your head in thought. "You surprise me, you know."

"I do?"

Sasha hums delightfully as she takes her last bite of her bread before moving onto the grapes.

"For someone who admires her freedom and never spared an interest in even the thought of forming an attachment, you latched onto Mr. Ackerman rather quickly." Sasha had always been mistaken for an idiot at a surface level, but she's a lot more perceptive than people give her credit for — than you give her credit for. And for once, you hated it. "One could even say that it's a bit...odd. But you've always been off, so maybe it isn't so out of the blue."

"Oh, how you read me so well," You say, sarcasm oozing from your words. You take a quick bite of bread.

"What's he like?"

You shrug your shoulders, pouting in thought. "I've only ever met him thrice," You point out, laughing at the curiosity avidly pooling from her eyes. "There's not much I can judge. If anything, I think you'd know more than me since you've pummeled the poor man with one too many questions."

Sasha takes the tray of food and scooches closer to you before putting it on her lap.

"But that's different! You've gotten first hand experience. Is he really like all the rumors?" She asks, a little too keenly. "Is he really as mean as they say? Because when he visited the house, he seemed too stiff for comfort."

You snort and are quick to cover your mouth to keep the bread from spilling from your lips.

"Mm, well, Mr. Ackerman is man of few words and very few expression, but he seems...genuine?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding like a question, but the more you speak, the more you're hit with the realization you know absolutely no idea who the man is.

All you're really left with is his hatred for attention, and your mutual need for peace. Everything else you try to think of comes up short.

Mr. Ackerman hasn't written a letter to you since his visit. It's not like he said he was going to, but a very small and naive part of you thought he would.

Sasha continues to rain down on you with more questions, but it isn't as persistent as you'd expect her to be. Its either her line of concentration snaps too quickly for you to formulate a response, or she's just too excited to hear more.

You answer what you can until you can no longer think. Eventually you're too tired to talk about you and the subject of the conversation shifts to Sasha.

"Hey, Sasha," You carefully speak between chews, minding the grape in your mouth. Sasha's eyes, still colored in hunger as she takes another loaf of bread, darts to look at you. "What about you, though?"

"Hmm?"

"You and..." You shift in your seat and lean in. "You and Nicolo - are you two really - Oh! My God, are you alright?"

Sasha nearly chokes on her bread. Clenching her fist, she beats her chest to help soothe the burn in her throat, coughing for air.

"Sasha!"

"I-I'm fine!" She finally says, swallowing thickly. "Sorry, yes, I'm fine."

"Do you need water?" Sasha shakes her head as she rests her hand on your shoulder to keep you still in case you choose to leave. You move even closer to rub her back to ease her, but once she does, a smirk plays across your lips and chuckle stumbles from your lips. "So, I guess it's true. You and Nicolo really are —"

"Shut up!" Sasha interjects, her head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "Please! I've had enough of mamma pestering me about this— ever since Pieck decided to tattle on me! If you're going to being just as annoying as her than—"

"I won't be!" You argue, your tone playful and lilting. "I'm only asking, and you're taking forever to say anything!"

"Well, fine! Alright." Sasha sharply huffs in defeat as she tosses her bread onto the tray and sets it back onto the couch. "Yes, okay, I suppose I might have feelings for Nicolo, but I don't know. I can't tell."

"You can't tell...?"

Sasha lets out another breath as she slumps against the wall. Her head tilts up to look at the cracked ceiling before looking back down to you, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she picks the right words to convey how she feels. She nervously twiddles her thumbs while doing so.

"How do you even know when you like someone?"

You blink at Sasha, taken aback by her question while she looks at you eagerly.

You realize, after a few breaths, you don't have a definite answer because unlike Pieck, you've never really experienced the feeling yourself. You always lived vicariously through fictional characters you read in novels, and Mrs. Bloom's sweet story of how she met her husband.

But other than that, you come up short—you can't tell at all.

"I think I'm the wrong one to ask." You confess, causing Sasha to look at you quizzically as confusion stirs in her mind. "I haven't really found the answer myself, I'm sorry."

Sasha sighs dejectedly.

"It's best to ask Pieck, isn't it?"

"As me what?" Pieck's voice, delicate and laced in curiosity, has your heads turn to the bedroom door.

It seems you were both too deep into your conversation to hear her knocking.

Pieck stands by the door, her olive green dress flows in the gentle window coming from the opened window, her hair into the usual messy, low ponytail that falls down her shoulders; her eyes heavy-laden with sleepiness.

Your eyes trail down to her hand, finding a pile of letters tightly held in it.

"Pieck, what's that?" You ask, dismissing her question with a question.

"Now hold on," Pieck hides the letters behind her back, pressing herself against the door to create even more distance—as if the wide expanse of the room wasn't enough. "What's the question?"

Sasha rolls her eyes. "It's silly."

"Well, if it's from you, I'm sure it is."

Sasha grumbles at Pieck's sarcastic retort, and you watch as your two sisters begin to bicker.

"If you're going to be an ass, I won't tell you." Sasha crosses her arms and twists her body away from Pieck and towards the window, her eyes falling to the clucking hens.

Peick nimbly trots across the floor and over to Sasha's side, crashing into her and quickly wrapping her arms around her shoulders, nosing through Sasha's hair bunched up in a high pony as she rests her chin onto her shoulder.

"Go away!" Sasha growls, her face contorts a sour expression as her attempts to shove Pieck off fails.

"Oh, c'moooon," Pieck coos, peppering kisses over her little sister's cheek, "won't you tell me? I hate being left out, especially when it's the two of you."

Sasha grunts as she tries to pry away from Pieck, but only to be caught in sloppy kisses on the cheek and the temple of her forehead. Though Sasha visibly shows disgust, even you can see that she loves being showered in affection from Pieck.

Pieck, being the eldest and holding the most responsibility, had always held you both with great love and adoration.

"Alright!" Sasha yells in surrender, tangled in the arms of her sister and somehow in a headlock as Pieck sits behind her. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you! Let me go and give me room, please."

Sasha elbows Pieck away from her, giving her enough space to breathe, and you snatch the tray off the couch and onto your lap to keep it from falling.

And as Sasha begins to explain her little dilemma, Pieck comfortably sits herself behind her, propping her chin back onto her shoulder and winding her arm around her waist as she listens intently. Pieck's gentleness doesn't go unnoticed by Sasha, and you watch as she sinks in the hug.

Pieck clicks her tongue, her eyes look at you as she falls into a thought, not deep enough to overthink and get carried away as she finds the answer.

"Hmmm, love and likeness can be complicated, but only if you let it be." You tilt your head at Pieck as she continues on her train of thought. "But you can tell if you like someone if you enjoy being with them and find their company pleasant. Do you find Nicolo's company pleasant?"

Sasha mindlessly hums in thought as her head lulls back on Pieck's shoulder.

"I do, actually." Sasha admits without hesitation. "I think..." She takes a beat to suck her teeth as she continues to think about it a little more, "I like the food he makes and that he, well, never seems to be bothered by me..."

"He's always so kind—like his eyes. His smile's nice, too, I suppose. Whenever he speaks, whether it's about food or well, other things, I can't help but listen."

There it is, the shimmer of affection in her light brown eyes and the oh-so-subtle smile across her lips. You almost miss it, but the world stills around you as you're caught in her bubble.

Pieck gives you a knowing look, smiling playfully.

Without saying a word or even slipping a sound, you and Pieck come to the agreement that Sasha'll have to come to her own realization that he loves him. The question is when she'll arrive at it.

Sasha brushes it off, not wanting to muddle herself any longer. She plucks the letters from Pieck's grasp and eagerly swifts through the pile while humming thoughtfully, completely ignoring Pieck's groan of disdain.

It's the usual; a couple of people from your father's family, inquiring when you're to sell the estate, one from your distant aunt from your mother's side that never bothers to actually visit, but diligently sends letters whether it be rain or shine, and one for —

"You've got a letter!" Sasha chirps, snapping her head up to look at you before shoving it into your hands. "It's from Mr. Ackerman! He's finally written to you!"

You throw your legs over the edge of the couch, sitting upright and fixing your hair as if Mr. Ackerman's just right there, watching you as you open his letter with shaky breaths and nimble fingers.

You quickly but carefully open his letter, scanning through his words and your eyes bulge out of it's sockets.

"What's it say?" Pieck inquires, excitement dripping from her lips as she scooches closer to try and peak at the letter. "Will he be visiting again?"

You shake your head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Sasha whines, "What is it?"

You open and close your mouth, blinking frantically as your shock still rides through your body. "Mr. Ackerman would like me to visit him at his estate next Tuesday."

When your mother heard news of your presence being requested by Mr. Ackerman, she took it upon herself to teach everything you needed to know about being "prim and proper". She stole your remaining days of peace and prepped you as best as she could.

When it came time for you to leave, she was adamant that you opt to take horseback instead of taking the carriage. All, especially your brother Reiner, were completely against it when they noticed the storm clouds reeling in. But your mother was deeply rooted in her stance, firm like a tree that not even the wind of your brother's disdain could change her mind.

So there you stand, having been caught in the rain, dripping from head to toe as the Smith estate towers over you, as if it's ready to swallow you whole in one go. You have to crane your neck back in a particularly painful angle to get a good look of the entire building, and you’re sure you’re only seeing the very tip of the iceberg.

Your mother warned you it would be much larger than you were used to - you just never imagined it to look like something out of a book.

Shivering and tightly wrapping your coat over you to trap any warmth you might have left with one hand, you swiftly knock on the door with the other. A shuddering breath escapes you when the door creaks open, revealing a servant to greet you in.

“Ah, Miss,” The servant’s eyes widen in fright, flinching back. His gulp is audible even with the thundering behind you. He scans you from head to toe, and he doesn’t bother to mask his sneering at your drenched frame and all the mud collected at the hem of your skirt. “You must be Miss Blouse, yes?” You greeted him with a sneeze, and briefly apologized. “Come quickly before you catch a cold.”

But your second and most aggressive sneeze yet tells him you might already have one.

“He’s been expecting you,” Is all the servant says before guiding you down that hall.

You rub your eyes, wiping your hairs sticking to your face as you take in the sight before you. The air in the estate is chilly and deadly quiet - enough to hear the sound of your clothes dripping with water and to catch the servant clicking his tongue at you.

You hold your breath; you didn’t think the estate could get any bigger, but it does. The hallway is vast and seemingly endless; portraits of many different men and women - all who you assume were probably family members of Mr. Smith because of the signature blonde hair and blue eyes - canvas over the great walls.

Giddiness tickles down from your chest and into your stomach as you trail behind the servant, your arms swaying to the side with a little skip in your step. You try your best to catch a peak at every room and hall you pass by, but everything moves in blur.

You can’t tell if you’re tired from your travels or if it's the pace you’re walking in. You take deep breaths, trying to pull yourself together as the servant ushers you into the drawing room.

“Mr. Ackerman will be here shortly,” is all he leaves you with, not bothering to spare another breath.

You’re surrounded by more paintings and books, but a particular painting catches your eye. It’s a portrait of a woman relaxed on a chair; she looks nothing like the ones outside. She has soft features and kind eyes, her lips supple and plump with an endearing smile. Her dark hair flows down to her shoulders, framing her face.

You squint your eyes, inching towards it with your hands clasped behind your back to avoid reaching out to touch it. The longer you stare, you find a weird sense of familiarity in her. But you just can’t -

“You’re wet.” You snap your head towards the gravelly voice to find Levi standing by the door with his brows pulled down in horror. “You’ve tracked in so much rain water, I thought a dog had stalked in.”

“Oh, I’m quite fine - achoo! Thank you for asking - achoo!” Your feeble attempt to shoot down his sarcastic remark is embarrassingly interrupted by your persistent sneezing. You wipe your nose with the back of your glove, earning a look of disgust from Mr. Ackerman. “Excuse me, I got caught in the rain.”

“I couldn’t tell,” He clips with a tight lip. “You could catch a cold -”

“Achoo!”

“It seems you already have…” Mr. Ackerman groans, and you find yourself picking at your fingers in embarrassment, your head lowered to the floor. “Follow me, I’ll give you something to change out of.”

Mr. Ackerman wastes a single breath, nor does he allow you to. But instead, with the utmost jaded expression on his face, he turns on his heels and leaves the room, expecting you to follow. You have to admit, with a fuzzy feeling buzzing in your head and the sudden sensitivity to the ache in your bones, it takes you a moment to pick up what he says and follow suit.

Has it always been this chilly?

A tremble in your damp coat, exhaling tremulously as you trot down the hall behind Mr. Ackerman. Your struggle for warmth doesn’t fall on dear ears, but it does motivate him to pick up the pace, up the winding steps and into another hallway.

Your shoes continue to click against the marble, passing by paintings and statues; for a moment you mistaken yourself to be wandering around a museum and not someone else’s home. But your head is spinning and you can’t appreciate the art even if you wanted you - you can’t even glance at a painting without wanting to vomit.

Mr. Ackerman comes to a jagged halt, causing you to nearly stumble against him. He glares at you over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” You mutter before stumbling a few steps back to give him space.

“Wait in there,” He instructs dryly, “and I’ll get someone to help you in a bit.”

“Oh, I - I don’t understand -”

“You have a cold,” He points out, “and I don’t think you’ll appreciate it if it were me helping you change out of your clothes.”

Your cheeks flush and your heart paces quickly in your chest; embarrassment overwhelms you and you wish the ground would swallow you up. He’s too direct and it makes your knees a little wobbly along with the rest of your body - you’ve turned into jello.

“Just wait in there and there’ll be a maid to bring you clothes. I’ll meet you again once you’re done.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You whisper, your eyes finally snap from the floor and meet Mr. Ackerman’s same old arid visage, but there’s a tenuous, unfamiliar gleam in his eyes you can’t seem to read.

He sternly nods, but just before trodding off you call after him, “Mr. Ackerman?” Your voice hushed and trembly.

“Yes, Miss Blouse?” He watches you expectantly, his head faintly tilting to the side. “Is there something else?”

Ironically, despite Mr. Ackerman coldness and indifference, you can feel that he cares - his warmth. And you can’t help but feel dangerously eager, a little selfish even, for wanting more. You can’t help but want to push further, but you’re reminded of the rumors and prefer not to push your luck.

“Thank you,” You say with a smile, a genuine one that catches him off guard, but not that you can tell with your glossy eyes. “Thank you fo - achoo! I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Ackerman.”

There’s a very, very subtle blush that spreads across his cheeks that reaches the tips of his ears, and maybe if it wasn’t for the odd lightly in the hallway, you would’ve caught it. But once again, Mr. Ackerman thanks his lucky stars and gulps, “Don’t mind it too much,” and spins on his heels before striding down the hallway.

You watch till his footsteps fade and his slender frame disappears as he turns the corner before finally looking at the door beside you. You stare at the door knob, your hand fidgeting over it before finally taking it in your hand and opening the door.

You gasp in awe, your eyes going round - the room can eat your house in a single bite. Even the bed that sits at the center, headboard pushed up against the wall, is bigger than the one your share with Pieck. Maybe bigger than the bed your mother and father shared.

You step inside, pushing the door shut behind you before twirling and taking in all the green and gold in the room. You’ve never seen so much gold - you’ve never seen gold in general, but here you are completely surrounded by it.

The strident knocking on the door causes you to still, staggering over your feet to find a familiar face greeting you with a cheerful smile, balancing a folded pile of clothes in their hand.

“Hange!” You squeak in shock, nearly losing your balance.

“Miss Blouse,” They playfully salute to you before entering in completely. “I saw you come in earlier and Levi said you’d be in here, so I thought to help. Though he did oppose, I'm not one to follow orders anyway.”

They cleverly wink at you, stretching their arm out to hand you the clothes and you meekly take it.

“How are you feeling?” They ask, taking a seat on the bed, “You can change over there, behind the partition,” They point to the other side of the room where it stands beside the window, and you quickly shuffling behind it.

You finally peel off your clothes, finally being freed by way your damp clothes and the way it clung to your body. You sigh heavily, tremulously.

“So, how are you feeling?” Hange’s voice echoes in the room from where they sit. They lean back on the heel of their palms, lulling their head bad carelessly as they wait for your response. “Levi said you might have a cold, and luckily for you, I’m a doctor.”

You hum in response, your focus directed on changing your clothes as quickly as possible.

“I’m, uh, I think I’m okay,” There’s a tingling in your skin and an unbearable ache in your bones. Your whole body feels sensitive; you’re not sure if you feel chilly or too warm. But you don’t want to be a burden, especially since you’re already borrowing someone else's clothes.

Whose are these anyway? You can’t imagine these are Hange’s, it’s way too small.

“He said you were sneezing!” They say, their voice slightly raising. “That you were sneezing a lot.”

“Probably just allergies!” You try and laugh it off, hoping Hange doesn’t press any further. But much to your displeasure, Hange isn’t one to simply let things go.

But the moment you step out from the partition, tying your hair up to keep from staining the dress, Hange strides over to you, placing her wrist onto your forehead and hums.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” You press.

“You’re a liar.”

“I'm not!” The whine that escapes your dried lips, takes enough energy from you to have your vision grow spotty and have your knees give in. Hange loops their arm around your waist and you slump onto their chest for support. “Right, maybe I am a liar,” You admit breathily, your eyes fluttering shut. “I’m really sorry, this is extremely impolite and my mother would kill me if she found me like this.”

“Never mind what your mother says,” They sigh before helping you over to the bed, “nothing good will come of thinking about what your mother says,”

You laugh softly, finding irony in their words.

The cushions are warm and comforting, pulling you into ease as you’re swayed by your need for rest. You try to combat it by blinking away, but drowsiness overtakes you like an unrelenting storm and you fall perilous to it the second your head sinks into the pillows.

You're greeted by a sharp, persistent ache in your head and a stubborn throb in your bones. You moan in discomfort and writhe beneath the cotton bed sheets.

You feel something cold dripping down your head, but before you can reach to check, you feel a wet cloth being placed on your forehead. You crack your eyes open and draw a bitter breath to find Mr. Ackerman towering over you. His brows pulled into a deep line of focus and his eyes colored in determination as if its taking all his verve to adjust the way the towel sits on your head.

He looks down at you and his expression softens.

It softens?

"You're awake," Mr. Ackerman notes. Maybe its the sickness, and that you're probably imagining it, but does Mr. Ackerman's tone sound a lot gentler? Its almost as if he's concerned for your well-being — almost as if he's worried and relieved you're finally awake. But his face remains unreadable, devoid of emotion. "You've been asleep for quite some time, but your temperature seemed persistent. Hange said as long as the rag is frequently changed then you should be better. How are you feeling?"

Does that mean he's been changing the rag? He said it should 'changed frequently' —

You arch your back when the ache in your bones come back stronger than ever. You whine in pain and drown back into the mattress.

"I don't feel too well," You croak, swallowing dryly.

"Do you need water?"

You can only nod.

Mr. Ackerman swiftly reaches for the glass of water that sits on the bedside table. You try and sit up , your bones feel like chalk as it grates against each other. You try to take it from him, but he raises his free hand to stop you. “Let me,” is all he says to you before bringing it up to your lips.

Baffled, you still drink it.

Your thoughts are still too foggy to draft a single thought. But all you is know your heart’s drumming in your chest and your breath is hitched in your throat for an entirely different reason that’s far from your cold.

You sigh in relief after a few gulps, muttering a ‘thank you’.

“Mr. Ackerman, you said that I’ve been asleep for quite some time,” You recount, looking at him puzzled, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.” He replies flatly, as if he's not bothered by it at all.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Ackerman hums as he falls back into his chair grabbing the book beside him before opening it up to the page he left off.

“You needn’t worry,” He eases without looking up to meet your eyes, as unbothered by the worry screaming in your eyes. “I’ve already written a letter to your mother the moment you fell asleep and informed her of your current state.”

“And what did she say of it?”

“She deeply apologizes for overstaying your welcome, but is pleased to know you’re in good hands.” Mr. Ackerman turns to the next page before he crosses his legs. His eyes flicker up to look at you to find irritation seeping out of your through eyes narrowed at an empty space on the floor, chewing on the inside of your cheek “I assured her that **you are in good hands, Miss Blouse.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize again for the umpteenth time as you stressfully run your fingers through your hair. “My mother must’ve planned this in hopes that I may grow closer to you.”

Mr. Ackerman cocks his brow at you, “Are you blaming your mother for your cold? Shouldn’t you be blaming the weather, or that you rode on horseback on a rainy day?”

"I cannot blame my mother for my cold or the weather, but I can blame her for scheming along with it." You sigh, leaning your head back onto the pillow, "My mother is an opportunist, so she must've seen the rain clouds as her 'moment to grasp'. She was adamant that I take horseback and not that carriage. My mother is many things, but most importantly, she's a scheming woman."

Much to your surprise, Mr. Ackerman smirks at your words. He smirks.

He licks his thumb before turning the page of his book, his eyes ghosting over the words without much intention to actually read.

"What are you doing?" You ask, twisting to face him, your hand tucking beneath the side of your face.

"I'm reading." He isn't.

"Here?"

"Would you rather I not keep you company?" His grey eyes blink away from the page and up at you. "Isn't this the whole point of your visit, to get o know each other?"

"W—Well, yes, but I didn't think you'd take our proposition quite literally." You voice falls soft at the end of your sentence and you feel yourself shrink in embarrassment.

"How else are we to make them believe we've formed an attachment?"

"Oh, well—"

"Is my company a bother?"

You shake your head. "Is mine?"

Mr. Ackerman chuckles and if it weren't for the whirling of your brain, you would've caught it. "Merely tolerable, really. You best get some rest, Miss. Blouse."

When you awaken again, it’s a little later in the afternoon and the sun is harshly bleeding through the glass window and casting over your face.

The first thing you notice is not the freshly changed rag resting over your forehead, but the empty chair that Mr. Ackerman sat himself earlier. You pout and you feel a little disappointed.

Disappointed?

What?

You prop yourself up on your elbows, drawing a sigh of relief. The smell of fresh sheets permeate your lungs and your tilt your head back before tilting it back up again.

Through your hooded gaze, your eyes scan through the room. You finally appreciate just how beautifully decorated it is. Shades of complimentary greens canvas the room and soft golds accent the room here and there. It’s ingrained in the walls and on the doors, and coloring the the bed posts, too.

With nimble fingers, you peel the covers off and a wave of cool air washes over your body.The floor is just as cold when your feet meet the carpet. You shuffle around the room, nosing through things but never really touching anything. You're too scared you might accidentally break something.

But the thirst of your curiosity has yet to be quenched, so you find yourself straying out the room, trotting down the hall and twirling around the space gleefully.

The estate is something written in the books. If it wasn't for the dreary, unsettling air hanging over you as thick as fog, the feeling would be magical.

Too busy to play make believe in your head, you find yourself too far off the path. Everything looks the same, and you eyes widen in panic.

Think, think, think, you chant inwardly, twisting your head around for something familiar.

Panic rises from your chest and lodges into your throat, and the last thing you need is to fall onto Mr. Ackerman's bad side.

But before your knees can shake in such unnerving trepidation, faint whispers echoing down the hall and towards you pull you from your thoughts. The voice are so faint and low, you nearly mistaken it to be elves.

You listen intently and follow the source, passing through a few more paintings and doors to lead you to a fragment of light bouncing off the wall and onto a door left ajar. You come to an immediate standstill when you recognize the voice — it's Mr. Ackerman.

Every inch of you tells you to turn around and walk away, but you aren't your mother's daughter for nothing. So the greater part of you belonging to her tugs you close, stealing a peak through the little gap as you hold your breath.

"When did you hear of this?" Mr. Ackerman's voice is gravelly, laced in annoyance. You hear him sharply huff followed by the sound of a hand slamming against the table, causing you to jolt in place. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," The unfamiliar, gruff voice says, and Levi grumbles. "Be thankful I'm telling you now and not waiting any longer. How could I with all your dallying? Since when have you taken any interest in marriage?"

"I haven't." He clips, tone dry. "The point is —"

"The point is, he's back and the last thing you need to do is wasting your time in courting a woman. Honestly, Levi, since when have you been so reckless?"

"Erwin," Mr. Ackerman grits, "my personal affairs have nothing to do with you. Who I choose to spend my time with has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" Mr. Smith seethes, yelling in a whispers. "If you cannot do your job, then how can I trust you? Do you not remember the reason why we're here?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"It seems that you are," Your eyes widen at Mr. Smith's counter, "she's slept here for two days, and you for two days, you've watched over her instead of doing what I've instructed you to do."

"She was sick." Mr. Ackerman argues flatly.

"Hange is a doctor for a reason."

"And I don't trust them for a reason."

You can only assume it's Mr. Smith who sighs dejectedly and clicking his tongue agitation. It only further piques your interest, and you wish it doesn't. But you can't help it, hearing that Mr. Ackerman stayed by your side while you rested made your cheeks burn and you can't help but grin to yourself, completely overjoyed.

You mentally kick yourself for being so much like your mother.

"You cannot hold that burden with you forever." Mr. Smith sighs.

"Whatever," Is the weak counter Mr. Ackerman spits back. "I'll take care of it tonight — the one of Governor Pixy's."

"Be sure to make yourself like an artificial night when you do." Mr. Smith commands, his voice smooth and stern. "You mustn't be caught."

"When have I ever been?"

You quickly leave, sprinting down the hall the moment you hear a chair grating against the floor.

Your heart drums in your chest and you breath tremulously. You heard something you shouldn't have even if it was only in incoherent pieces. Truly, it could be anything, but with the rumors circulating around him, it shouldn't be so surprising.

So why is it?

You find yourself in a more familiar part of the estate and you breathe out in relief.

You’re about to head back into your room when you stumble past a room, catching a glance of a grand piano standing tall from the corner of your eye. You retract your steps and turn your head to get a better look, your lips falling into an 'o' when you do.

She's beautiful, you think.

It’s an alluring, glossy ebony piano — one Sasha finds herself drooling over to play on whenever she sees one. She'll hate you so much when you tell her about it.

Against your better judgement, with all the bells warily ringing for you not to, you walk over to the piano, your hand shadowing over the wood. You take a seat before the keyboard just to take a good look at her. You have no intention to play her, really. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't for the life of you.

Your eyes flicker to the fall board of the piano and find a name engraved in gold.

"Petra," you whisper. "It's very nice to meet you. You're very beautiful, aren't you?"

"What the hell are you doing?" You shoot up from the chair and snap your head up to find Mr. Ackerman fuming at you. His eyes dark with rage and his jaw screwed shut, gritting at you. "I asked you a question."

"I— I didn't touch anything." You peep. You feel incredibly small underneath his scrutinizing gaze. You wish the ground would swallow you up right then and there. "I, I really didn't—"

"Get the fuck away from her." Mr. Ackerman speaks lowly, his voice quietly trembling, but you can't hear it.

Even if you hadn’t done anything wrong, you feel as if you’ve been caught red handed. Fear buzzes in your head and fogs up any line of thought.

"I'm sorry?"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE PIANO!" He bellows, his eyes as fiery as his anger, causing you to stumble back and nearly trip up on your feet. "Who the fuck do you think you are, wandering into places you have no business? Is this what you shitty farm people are like? You get a chance to walk into a place thrice the size of your home and they think they could just parade around?!"

"I—I didn't mean to —"

"You and your family are fucking disgusting."

There are many things you're willing to put up with. You don't mind if someone were to come after you and call you out, but coming after your family is completely different. So your kindness and the very last bit of your patience snaps like a twig.

"I would imagine you're the disgusting one." Your voice is still small, but you’re building up to your confidence, peeling your eyes away from the patterned carpet to stare daggers right back at Mr. Ackerman who stills completely.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll admit I've overstepped and I deeply apologize for that," You begin, your voice no longer wavering in fear, "but how dare you? My family’s been nothing but kind to you."

"I think you've mistaken that I fucking care."

"I've heard many things about you, too many, for that matter. Yet I never labelled as anything as derogatory as what you've called me." You draw out a sharp breath, closing your eyes for a moment to steady you heart before continuing, "I think its disgusting, I think, that such a man as yourself, who've I've heard has been through hell and back, would think so lowly of people that's no different than him."

You never dared to listen to the rumors or any of the gossip. Even when your mother would try to entertain any of it, you’d stop listening or leave the room if you could. But if Mr. Ackerman was willing to aim for such a low blow, you couldn't think of a reason why you shouldn't do the same.

"I think you’re 'fucking disgusting' for forgetting where you came from."

Mr. Ackerman clenches his jaw and balls his fits tight til his knuckles paint white. He's ready to fire bullets into your self-esteem, but before Mr. Ackerman can even utter a syllable, a servant appears behind him, clearing his throat to cut of the momentum.

"Apologies for the intrusion," The servant says, his tone monotonous and dry, "but it Miss Blouse's brother is here to collect her."

You widen your eyes at the servant, and your expression softens.

“Reiner’s here?” You voice is small again.

“Yes, Miss.”

"Perfect." Mr. Ackerman huffs, his whole body still tense. "Get the fuck out."

You snap your gaze back to Mr. Ackerman, sneering, "Gladly."

tag list. @castellandiangelo @astronomyturtle @regalillegal @oshuncheyenne @drapetomaniaac @whalerus @hinaamaya @ggsmashgg @kyosugi92 @daikushiji @acker-baby @lundabean @moonxochu @melodiamore @unlikelyfestivalshepherdhuman @osmosly @halparkebitch @leashaoki @bonkybabe @myeg1993 @chikenbitches @subtlepjiminie @mangobee

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pl-panda · 5 years ago

Text

The vines that bind us - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

-----------

After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

She started by greeting the two plants in Mr. Drake’s office. Both were incredibly satisfied with themselves that they earned bigger pots. They were also even happier to see her. Next, she took care of her new plants. The two on her desk she quickly took a liking to. They were cute. Only the large plant that now stood in the corner next to the vent was snarky and dared to make an inappropriate comment about one of the office plants. The hole in that leaf was caused by a bullet thank you very much. Mari quickly and clearly explained where it made mistakes.

With that done, she got to the paperwork that was left on her desk. There were many things to be done before the lunch break.

----------

Chloe was giddy the whole day. She got a green light to deal with the Liar in any way she wished. So many plans. So many possible revenge options. So many lawsuits to be filled. But as she was walking to the cafeteria, a new, even more devious, plan formed in her head. She would need the help of a certain stuck-up brat, but if she got him to help, it would not only destroy Lila but utterly ruin her. She already had several ideas from her other schemes that could be adjusted. Oh, this would be glorious if only she found… there!

Damian Wayne was not having a good day. He was in fact having a really, really bad day. His father had forbidden him from bringing another sword to work until his previous one is returned. Given how efficient the GCPD is, he would be lucky to get it before thirty. He was the only one of his brothers to arrive at WE before lunch, which led to more irritation. He definitely hated the corporate gossip about one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. How she was awesome, how she was a 'bamf' (whatever that meant), or how much they adored her kind-but-still-no-nonsense attitude. She took his sword!

“Wayne.” An irritating voice came from behind. Damian was of course aware that someone was behind him but dismissed it as an employee doing something unrelated to him.

“Bourgeoise. What the heck do you want from me?” He spat

“To show you something.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jacket. He quietly admired how she found female clothing with pockets that deep. At the same time, he kept frowning at her.

“I swear, if it’s…” He didn’t finish, because she pressed ‘play’ and the video started. The whole thing laster about seven minutes. With each passing moment, his frown deepened and by the end, Chloe wondered how can he see anything when his eyes narrowed to two tiny slits.

“I. want. her. dead.” He seethed through the clenched teeth.

“Good. But we can’t kill her. Mari forbid it and I know your father isn’t exactly fond of killing.”

“Tt. What. do. you. want?” He pronounced each word clearly.

“Simple. Destroy her with her own words.” She pointed to the group where she was clutching to Adrien’s arm for her dear life. “Mari-bear is too moral to play with her lies like that. Us? We play to win.”

“Fine. But I want my sword back.”

“Clever boy. I knew you could break into an evidence room.” Chloe smiled. “They returned it cleaned of blood the same afternoon. Guess you were too late.”

“Tt.”

“Fine. I will get your precious sword. But if you try to mess with Mari…”

“I got enough of it from my father.” He scowled.

“Good. Now, onto the plan.”

---------

Mari didn’t come to eat lunch with Chloe. She was perfectly aware that the girl would start one of their plans and wanted to have an alibi. Instead, she dived into the paperwork that had to be done as soon as possible. It was going on good and if she dealt with it before the day’s ended, she would have time to try searching for her mother in the evening. She even inquired with the City Hall about the ownership of their old apartment and the answer should be coming any moment now.

She was broken out of her concentration by a scream of rage and frustration.

--------

A few moments earlier

Damian stalked toward the group of teens that were relaxing from their intern duties. He could clearly see the Liar clutching to Agreste boy like a leech. Perfect for their plan.

The boy had to agree that what Blonde concocted was both deviously brilliant and brilliantly devious. A perfect opening play. He made sure that he looked flawless before suddenly ‘appearing’ behind Lila and Adrien.

“How could you?” He asked in an emotionless voice. His face was showing only traces of sadness. Just like he would look if it was for real.

“Who are you?” She asked dismissively.

“Really Lila?” He asked, allowing a small amount of water to appear in his eyes. It was not like him to cry at all, but his mother taught him all useful ways of emotional manipulations and tears were all the way on top of that list. “After all these years, our relationship meant so little to you? I specifically got this trip so we could reunite and you are just… hanging off of some french model?”

“Listen here you…” She was interrupted when Chloe stormed, her heels clicking loudly around the cafeteria. Conveniently, everyone removed themselves when they saw Damian stalking toward intern-bitch. Speaking to police two days in a row is not a pleasant experience.

“Wayne. What’s the mess here.”

“Tt. You were right. She is a harlot.”

“Wayne?” Alya asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. You have the questionable experience of meeting a pissed Damian Wayne. My poor cake…” She moaned.

“Would you let that go, woman!?” He asked. This time he had no need to play his emotions. Bourgeoise never forgave him and Drake that Cake incident and it grated on his nerves. He paid her back.

“It was my birthday!” She raised her hands up. “And you are all idiots. Lila kept telling you how great her relationship with Damian was. And yet she is hanging off of Adrien, sinking her claws into his arm. I think the English expression was… I swear I read a book about it. Something with red A…” She pressed a finger to her lips, acting like she was trying to remember. “Ah! Scarlet Woman.” She grinned. “That’s what you are, Lie-la. A scarlet woman using men to get what you want.” That was vicious even for Chloe. Adrien took the opportunity to push the fuming girl away and get back. He could admire the chaos that was about to happen very soon.

To their surprise, Lila calmed herself and giggled.

“ah! Silly Dami-boo! I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I thought we were always just friends. It must’ve been one big misunderstanding”

The people around started to nod their heads, accepting what she said as plausible. Damian Wayne wouldn’t be the first to get the wrong idea. At least until their phones buzzed. Chloe was smirking.

“Misunderstanding? This declarations of love say something different though. I seem to remember there was even some talk about a ring.”

Lila checked her phone and her eyes went wide. There were messages that looked like from her. That witch even replicated her speech pattern. It was much better forgery than what she did with Maribrat.

“Lila?” Nino stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed. After all this time together.” Damian shook his head. He pulled a small bracelet off and tossed it at her. “Consider this a break-up.”

Chloe smiled. “So you are free now.” She asked him. Damian saw the predatory grin and felt a sudden need to run. But he knew that the witch was not yet destroyed.

“Yes…”

“What say I concede that the cake incident was entirely Drake’s fault. If you take me for a coffee after work?”

Damian gave a distraught Lila a look of hatred. Then, he turned back to Chloe.

“I would like that. Does 4:30 pm works for you?”

“I should be free by then.” She smiled. “It’s a date.”

With that, she left with Damian toward the elevator. Lila had enough of it and stormed to the bathroom. Soon after that, a shriek of frustration filled the building. Since it sounded like the bratty intern, nobody cared enough. The class was not allowed to leave their posts, not that too many of them wanted to be near Lila at the moment. They had many things to think about.

Damian and Chloe sat in the Law department, both having a satisfied grin. It was totally worth it.

“Just to be clear. I still hate you.” He said to her.

“Same here.”

“To the Liar’s fall.” They raised a cookie each and bit in. Most people that saw them had to check again because the Ice Prince was actually hanging around someone his age.

--------

Mari managed to record the shriek and now used it as Lila’s ringtone. It was a nice mid-day surprise that brightened her day. It lasted all beautiful hour until Marleen White, the head of PR, started knocking on the elevator, demanding to see her. Given her state and that she didn’t even call, it was something urgent. Mari quickly let her in.

“We have a huge problem.” She tossed a folder full of pictures on her desk. There were prints of chat screens with various dates. The content was most troubling.

“I assume someone leaked it to the press?” She shrugged.

“How can you be calm? It’s a disaster!”

“They are fake.” Mari shrugged again.

“Fake?”

“A. That’s not Lila’s number on any of her four mobile phones. B. I have no idea who made it, but they have no idea how Damian Wayne acts. It’s straight up the same bullshit she will be facing a lawsuit for once the Law Department gets through the tons of paperwork. And C. This is an American number. Lila had no way of getting it three years ago. Plus the timing is too perfect. She gets punishment from the company and then the scandal with her dating youngest Wayne gets out. Whoever made it settled on fast, not precise.” Mari circled things on the prints.

“So it’s all fake?”

“I suspect she wanted revenge on the company for the extra work I had her be assigned.” Mari grinned at the memory of the shriek. “Or, someone’s doing it in her name.” For a moment her thoughts wandered to Chloe. She would have to speak to her soon.

“We will deny it and post all of the details you highlighted. The tabloids might still latch on it.”

“To be honest, I think it will be better than being dragged through the mud for the deaths. Especially since there was no story attached. Personally, I can’t care less about celebrity romance.” She dismissed the concern. It pained her a bit to speak about the dead in such a dismissive manner, but through the day she slowly absorbed that it was not her fault. She couldn’t blame herself. That’s what Marinette would do. Marinette was left in Paris by the irritating classmates and had her luggage (full of Adrien’s cheese-stinking socks) sent to India or somewhere.

“That’s… quite a good idea. I assume you will want this forwarded to the Law department to add to the lawsuit.”

“No point. It’s fake and we have no proof who leaked it. I’m plenty certain we have nothing or that person would already be sitting in HR.”

“The IT is looking into it, but they have little hopes. It went through an external server that we can’t get access to legally. Whoever leaked it was smart enough to avoid easy detection.”

“Good. By the way, what about that statement?”

“I sent it to your email.”

“I see it. I will read it and send you eventual suggestions.”

“Sure. It’s nice to have someone competent in place.”

“I thought Mr. Drake was quite a good CEO. He got this company from the hole back to the top?” She tried to remember what she knew about Wayne Enterprises and Wayne Tech

“Yeah, but he is… eccentric. And can disappear at weird times for hours only to then work through three days without sleep”

“Oh. And Sarah was unhelpful?” Mari winced, remembering her own runs when the deadlines approached and she realized she spent the whole week constantly fighting Akumas.

“She was good with people, but…”

“I get it.” Mari smiled. “Luckily, I have experience with babysitting.”

Both women cackled at that.

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

Once Marleen was gone, Mari quickly called Chloe’s phone. The girl picked up almost immediately. She was speaking to someone.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your work?”

“Don’t worry Mari-bear. I was just speaking with my newest side-kick.”

“Tt. I’m not a sidekick!” A voice came from next to her. Mari tried to resist the urge to facepalm. Chloe tilted the phone to show a pouting Damian Wayne.

“Shut up Sidekick. I’m the mastermind behind our plans.”

“And I pay for them with my image and sanity.” He replied.

“Hush you! I will let you know that some people would kill for the opportunity.”

“Tt. Right now I want to kill someone.”

“Har har. So funny, are you?”

“As much as I enjoy watching you two flirt… Get a room.” Marigold joked, watching both of them blush red. Before either had a chance to attack her for implying anything, she continued. “Chloe. Did you per any chance fabricated and published texts between Damian and the Liar?”

“Wait! That bitch actually published it?”

Mari facepalmed. She could feel the headache coming. In the hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to just fire Lila’s sorry ass, together with the rest of the bunch. She could easily have Adrien and Chloe hired on some less permanent deal. They could both do without school for a while.

“Tt. Now I will really need my blade. Please tell me that nobody believed it?” Damian asked, frowning.

“You’re in luck. Madame White caught the wind of it quick enough. She will be making a swift statement that this is an attack on your person and the image of Waynes as a whole. Plus publishing a detailed analysis of why it couldn’t have been you.” Bluenette reassured him that his precious reputation would not take any great hits. Or not too great of a hit at least.

“Good. Jon wouldn’t let me live it down.” He sighed in relief.

“Now, Chlo. You know I love and support your deviousness, but please try and limit the civilian casualties of your future plans.”

“Fine. I can’t promise Lila’s retaliation to follow the same rules.” She huffed.

“Good. You’ve got any plans for the afternoon?”

“She is already otherwise occupied.” Damian quickly interceeded. He might not like the blonde much, but his honor demanded that if he actually invited her for a date, he did his best.

“I will leave you to your scheming then. Or whatever else you are doing” Mari quickly hanged up on the couple before they could scream at her. She saw a bit of blush enter both of their faces so she counted it as a win.

---------

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly. Tim Drake did not show for work, so she had to handle the paperwork herself. She never imagined how much work went into organizing one press conference. Sarah did absolutely nothing about it before she quit. Her biggest problem was that she needed to have it happen outside of WE since several journalists expressed their concerns about security. Now she was being hard-pressed to find a separate convention center. Except that things were expensive and Finances were definitely not being helpful. She posted the task to one of their employees. He would send her the offers before the day was up, but there was a slight delay and she would have to wait until four. Mari decided that she can wait and have it done that day.

She informed Chloe and their teacher that she had to stay in the office after hours and get it done so they wouldn’t worry. Then, she dived into making what felt like dozens of phone calls. Out of four serious offers, three would actually pass the standards set by Mr. Drake in the email he oh so graciously sent her in response to a question about the situation. It was six when she actually got done with the negotiations, but the satisfaction was immense. The final price was ten percent lower than what she initially aimed for, so she had more funds for other things. The guest list was also reviewed in the meantime and already sent back, so that was one more thing crossed out of the list.

After being done, she bid farewell to the receptionist near the entrance and went to the Taxi she called before leaving. It was already waiting, which was a nice boon for the end of the day. Her next stop was not the hotel though. She gave the address in the seedier part of town. Her old address to be precise.

----------

“Are you sure Ma’am?” The taxi driver asked unconvinced. “I mean it’s not the safest part of town.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Besides, my mother used to live here.” She gave him a bright smile.

“If you say so…” He shrugged and stopped before a rundown building. Moss and ivy had already overgrown this place a long time ago, but the plants seemed… unhealthy. Like they were left to fend on their own for too long. It was not a good sign.

Hesitating for a moment, Mari entered the building. She was hesitant, even though technically her mother was the owner. The ground floor was empty if one ignored several dozen wild plants in various states of growth. Some were dried and dead, while some others were lush and domineering. It used to be well-kept and ordered inside the garden that she and her mother tended to. She would fix that after she found her mother.

The second floor was not much better. The dust everywhere was indication enough that Pamela Isley moved out long ago. Probably even years. Mari walked around, reminiscing about her childhood. It was not what one would call ordinary, but she would never settle for it anyway. She loved learning about plants with her mother. The martial arts lessons with uncle Wilson when he had time. Science with uncle Victor or her mother. Even the math with uncle Floyd. And Allegra and Claude were there to keep her company.

Slowly, she trailed to her mother’s room. She hoped to find something useful there. She definitely did not expect to have to block a giant mallet with blue and red stripes. Ducking under it, she delivered a quick kick before running to the stairs. Mari dashed downstairs and burst onto the street. The Taxi driver actually waited for her. He was a godsend at this moment. She quickly jumped inside and ordered him to go.

“So? Unwelcome guests?” he asked a bit more cheeky than she would’ve liked.

“Yes. But apparently my mom didn’t live there is some time.” Mari answered in a bitter tone.

“Shame. Hope you have better luck, next time lass.” They rode in silence for a moment. “Name’s Chas by the way. Chas Chandler.”

“Marinette.” She smiled at the man. “Thank you for waiting. I would’ve probably been in a worse situation if not for you.” Mari did not add that the worse situation was ordering the wild plants to defend her. She worked with the wild plants maybe twice before and they didn’t listen that well to orders.

“Where to now?”

Mari gave him the name of the hotel. When they arrived, she paid him and gave him a rather generous tip for the work. It was already dark, but apparently Chloe was not yet here. The class was supposed to be visiting some local museum or whatever. It’s not like she cared.

When Marigold entered her room, there was a large book sitting on her bed. Tikki immediately zoomed out of her pocket and toward it. she hovered over for a moment before she huffed.

“Of course he would do that. He is an idiot though. I would be a much better teacher.”

“Who are you talking about?” Mari asked the small goddess.

“No one!” Kwami said quickly and in a bit higher tone. The bluenette could’ve sworn she saw Tikki get even redder than before.

“Okay… And what’s that? Nothing dangerous I hope?”

“It’s… it’s a spellbook.” Tikki said after hesitating a bit.

“Like magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would leave me a spellbook without as much as a note?” Mari asked. She could see Tikki was conflicted.

“I can’t say.” She finally let go of air. “I made a promise that I would keep the secret.”

“Fine. You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, but Magic is dangerous. You should only do it with some supervision.” Tikki warned her.

“Good thing I have you then.” Marigold grinned.

“Mari! You know I can’t exactly just…” Tikki paused. “You know what, it’s actually not a bad idea. I can teach you some simple stuff for the starters.”

“Huh? I actually expected you to be against it.”

“I trust you to act responsibly. And as a Guardian, you probably should start learning magic anyway.”

“Let’s get started then. Please tell me I can curse Lie-la!”

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#maribat au #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #Mother!Ivy #dc #MLB #mlb x dc #Batman #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #redeemed!chloe #Good!Adrien Agreste #bamf marinette

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shadowdianne · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered [SQ one shot -I guess xd]

For you, @waknatious because we both knew all too well what would happen when you send me that post Xd I’ve cut out the angst significatively though, I would call this hurt/comfort at best. And you are one of the very few that may make me write something for these two again, sparingly, very sparingly so… Love you, always.

Lu.

Based on 6x08 I’ll be your mirror.

General reminder that I’ve done very basic editing on this one. I will maybe go back and change some things but who knows.

-.-

Her tongue felt like sandpaper when she woke up, her brain pulsing with a head-splitting migraine and Regina needed to blink a few times as she felt the touch of gravel against her face and exposed hands and forearms, her right hand still holding to a body that began to stir almost at the same time as she. She could feel nausea beginning to crawl up her throat and she did her best to swallow as she blinked twice, thrice, as she heard a shriek at her side, her own voice ricocheting against her ears as the Queen took a look at her surroundings.

In all fairness, she thought, her body tense, she hadn’t had that much time to think about what she was about to do. Her arms had moved in autopilot, calling forth every single piece of her that hadn’t been siphoned out of her back when she had split herself. When the dragon had hit the mirror, she had felt the magic calling forth from the other side of it. Emma, always reacting Emma, had probably merely answered instinctively to it, letting her own magic act like a magnet to it. She, however, had stood her ground, knowing that her other self would reach for the now hotter-than-lava glass and so when Emma had been expulsed from the world behind the mirrors, she had reached outwards, grabbing The Queen’s by the hand, and pushing them both backward, wishing the portal to close at the majesty’s back. The magic, the little sniff she had gotten from the outside world, had thankfully answered her call.

“What have you done?” The Queen’s eyes were bloodshot, her usual demeanor broken like the mirror shards that covered the wall where the mirror had been propped against, the one she -no, not she, her, not her, them- had spent so many hours prying through. With a snarl, the Queen turned to the now broken glass and frame, maybe hoping to find a piece that still showed the interior of the vault. None of them, however, showed anything beyond the clouded sky that had covered every single reflective surface ever since Regina had been there.

Chuckling, mirthless, Regina stood as well, ironing her clothes in one movement, her hands getting trapped for a moment on the small, scorched holes on the back of her blazer. The dragon seemed to be gone, perhaps suffused out like Emma had gone, returned, mayhap to the safety of his shop. That didn’t sit exactly well with the brunette, but she resolved to focus on the matter at hand; the irate Queen.

Who, now, turned towards her once more and grabbed her by the shoulders, knuckles white, seething.

“I’ve trapped you,” Regina replied, freeing herself with one quick move. She might not have her magic, but there were a few pros on being fighting with herself; knowing the extent of her own strength was one of them. “You were right, at the shore, everything I’ve dreamed, you have dreamt it. So, I thought a little surprise was in order.”

She wasn’t lying, not entirely. After all, she had seen the opportunity when the dragon had hit the mirror, but she hadn’t had any promise that the idea would work. For everything she knew, the magic could have thrown them away all the same, the imperfections the mirror had created in the fabric that kept the world beyond the glass together fragmented beyond any kind of repair. But one wasn’t at Emma’s side all this time without picking a thing or two and improvising, while wasn’t her preferable course of action, was one of those things.

The Queen, however, was having none of it, and she moved closer to her once more, her heels crunching the glass and the gravel, the tower they had been moaning perilously as she did, as if her anger could reach to the still erected beams and destroy everything at once.

“And so.” The other woman said, eyes narrowed, lips turned into a fine line, a rictus so similar to her mother’s that Regina froze for a second, a moment, anxiety seizing her muscles. The queen seemed unaware, or at least not preoccupied about it and so she kept on talking with badly disguised anger. “You thought that pushing us both here, trapping us, was the way to go?”

It was Regina’s turn to snarl, her hands at her hips as she kept a healthy distance between herself and, well, herself.

“Anything to keep you contained. I am not going to sit idle while you try…” She pointed at the shattered mirror, where Henry’s face had been, so close, yet unattainable. “Whatever you planned on doing with my son.”

The Queen blinked, momentarily stunned only to start laughing, cackling, really, as her eyes returned to the cold hatred Regina was so familiar with for she had been the one giving similar glances back when the two of them had been together.

“I was giving him a choice.” The Queen replied as the laughter ebbed away from the two of them, cascading down the dilapidated ruins around them both. “Something you have not been able to give you him.” She was looking down on her now, her face maybe covered in some residual dirt and yet managing to look every bit of the Queen she had once considered herself. Regina bit back a reply, chest forward, fingers curling as she wished for her magic to be within her reach if only for a moment. Nothing, however, came to the movement and The Queen’s lips curled as she focused on Regina’s movement, eyes turning into slits. “You are pathetic. Weak. If I could kill you I would do so in a heartbeat. You can’t expect to be his mother, you are not strong enough.”

Regina tried her best to let the words wash over her, harmless, but she still felt the distant pang of the words she sometimes said to herself while trying to fall asleep. She had been so sure, back in New York, that her choice was the right one. She missed those moments in where regret was framed by very small significant moments, a barely-there sentiment that she could push away as she kept on doing with the Queen’s voice on her head. Ever since the split, however, doubts and corrosion clouded her judgment, her own actions. The Dragon had been right, despite how much it pained her to admit it: the battle should have been kept inside herself rather than trying to externalize it as she had done. Because now she was nothing but the other side of a coin; one that had lost part of its vindictiveness, of her strength.

She hadn’t voiced it aloud, of course, with everything happening at once there was truly no moment to admit she felt her own connection to her magic different, changed. What was she going to do, she often wondered while trying to sleep, while reaching for sleep and numbness, if Emma did indeed die? What would she do if she was left alone, to take care of a Henry that would be devastated? Would he blame her for the death of his mother? Would everything she had built turn into ashes yet again?

The Queen tilted her head, sensing how her words had, indeed, touched her, and Regina cursed inwardly for every bit of her that belonged to the woman in front of her.

“What I was doing.” The Queen said, the triumph of the one knowing themselves right echoing on her tone. “Was trying to make him worthy, worthy of the title that will be his, worthy of a name and a position that you, for whatever reason, seemed to be refusing to take. I had to clean up your mess, Regina. Again.”

There was a maniac glint on the Queen’s eyes as she said this, the world around them silent, still, in an almost halted breath as she took another step towards Regina.

Regina recoiled. She had never considered how much of her own mother she had channeled when turning into the Queen, when the title and the façade had melded into one single person, the one now left behind the woman she could have been under very different circumstances. She, now, could see it; the burning devotion, the need, toxic, like gas, that spread around her her own intent for control. She could see it now, however, once more, and she felt stripped away of her strength as she faced her own face, so sure of how pain was the only path to take, the only debt that needed any kind of retribution.

“You are the one on the wrong.” She replied, but her answer felt weak even to her own ears. Doubling down, she pointed at the now broken mirror a few paces away, her muscles protesting as the headache doubled its efforts to blind her. “I managed to get you here, Queenie. Remember that. For every time you thought you had the upper hand…”

The other one interrupted her, scoffing dismissively towards her as she did so.

“This is one last attempt to stop me. Giving that you enchanted the mirror in the first place the spell will soon be dispelled. You cannot do anything right; you are nothing but a lesser part of me, one that thought she had access to feelings, memories, a life. You are a shadow, not the other way around, Regina.”

The headache grew in intensity and Regina could feel the anger beginning to boil inside her her, hotter than before. Muscles tensing, she was the one who took a step forward now, the set of rubble at her feet sliding for a second before they settled themselves once more. The sky above them, the intermittent set of clouds and starred glow, seemed to grow darker as she moved closer to the other woman.

“You live because I decided to take a potion, you wouldn’t otherwise. And as I tried once, as I did once, I will reach inside my chest and rip our heart even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The Queen laughed once more, not fazed by the words. Regina’s whole body felt aflame, the usual way in where she dispelled her anger, in how she channeled her fury, cut away from her but her fingers kept on twitching, calling forth magic she didn’t feel, knew it wasn’t there. If only she could, she thought as she stood, as the world around them kept returning to glittering mirrors, reach once, follow the words with actions…

She had made a promise, she thought with a start, Emma’s face appearing on her mind’s eye, the way the blonde’s eyes had clung to hers as the dragon roared above their heads, returning to her. The blonde had looked pale, tired, like she always looked lately, devoid of any fight herself as if already preparing herself for a funeral that wasn’t still written. And Regina, couldn’t wouldn’t really blame her. Even if with every comment, every dejected admission of how Emma didn’t see herself alive for much longer, made her want to grab the blonde woman by her shoulders and ask her why she seemed so intent on thinking there wasn’t any other way for her to survive. Why she seemed so convinced that Regina would destroy and maim and do whatever it needed to be done in order to prevent such. But, even if the Queen might have replied, Regina, the one she was, currently, never quite did that, far too many times biting her tongue and looking away as the blonde kept on glancing at the world around her as if nothing but sand compose every single thing she touched. Sand about to disappear between her fingers.

And yet, she had made a promise; “You're not sacrificing yourself, and neither am I.” One she had broken almost as quickly. But one that would keep Emma, stubborn Emma, trying to find a way to her. Because no matter what, she knew the green-eyed woman enough to know that despite everything, the blonde would actually try her damnest to retrieve her. If only to tell her how she dared. “You’ve taken this too far.” She would say to her, with fewer words, maybe, and a lot more anger. But that was the way with them both after all.

And despite how she had been the one pushing both sides of herself inside this realm, this world, she almost wanted to laugh bitterly at it; she had seen the blonde push her away from a vortex only to swallow down the darkness that threatened to take her. So, if she kept on standing, even for a moment longer, maybe a portal would be opened, maybe magic would pour inside, maybe she would be returned to her full abilities for only being able to actually pluck her heart out, finish a job that she felt was long overdue.

The only thing she needed to do was to keep on searching, keep on waiting, and study the surroundings, trying to find the mirror that would, indeed, do the trick.

The Queen had kept on talking, her voice a shrill that made its way into Regina’s ear.

“You wouldn’t dare to kill me, Regina, since I am the one that has kept you alive for so long. Or do you think mother would have kept you around after she returned from the Enchanted Forest if it wasn’t for what she saw on me? Do you truly believe that it was you who told Peter Pan that you had no remorse? Do you think, even for a second, that it was me the pathetic one, trying to get ahold of a love that seemed to be prophesized by some fairy dust? You are the one who hurt us, who kept trying to find solutions for a problem that did not even exist; I was the one reigning, I was the one that should be in control.”

Regina blinked, the ire on the other one’s words making her voice louder, almost a scream as it was now the one whose fingers twitched as if waiting for a fireball that didn’t manifest.

The movement of her eyes made them fall into the spread glass pieces around them, most of them from the mirror at her vault but others larger in shape and size. The original one they had been trying to mend. The one Sidney had been trying to use.

Maybe…

“I hurt you?” She said, moving to her left even a fraction in order to see if her suspicions were right. It was only a couple of shards, her mind told her, not enough to create the mirror, certainly not enough to escape. But if the glass was powerful enough she maybe could see where it would have directed her if they had been able to repair it. “Tragic. Last time I checked I wasn’t the one trying to hurt my son.”

That got a reaction, enough of anger directed at her rather than at her movement for Regina to position herself next to the shard. It was clouded, like every other piece, but they were close enough to the smashed one. Maybe, with any luck, there would be enough residual power for it to react if she touched it.

“You can’t expect me to apologize.” The Queen replied, raising her hands with an almost smirk curling her lips. “Not when you are a coward who refuses, again and again, to reach for what should be ours.”

That made Regina stop, a second, two, the tone had changed there, minutely, and she eyed the other brunette with renewed anger.

“Don’t.” She warned; she knew the tone all too well, knew what it would preface, and she didn’t intend to have the conversation with herself, not like this.

But The Queen sensed the blood in the water, and, like a shark, she lunged.

“Don’t? Don’t say anything? Like the million times, you have stopped yourself in a pathetic try at honor that is so risible you made every piece of me crawl?” The Queen seemed about to attack now, muscles seizing beneath her clothes, and Regina prepared herself as she bent her knees; she knew that she herself wasn’t above a physical fight if there was no other option after all, and she needed to get the shard before the Queen realized what she was doing. “You could have everything you want if you only would let me take control. You could have her, as stupid that notion is. But no, it was always better to keep being honorable, being good.”

That made Regina bare her teeth.

“What do you want me to say?” She didn’t wait for an answer, though, she truly didn’t want to listen to it. Moving down, she grabbed the piece of glass, hard enough for her skin to be pierced by one side of it while wishing for the magic to reply.

The answer, however, did come, not from the Queen, however, but from inside herself.

“That you love her. That if you were selfish enough you would tell her, you would have her. That you would keep her safe, and alive.”

It didn’t matter, of course, the moment The Queen saw what she had grabbed, realized what she was doing, any kind of physical answer was ripped out from her lips, transformed into a growl deep enough to wake every slumbering heart inside her vault. Moving towards her, The Queen reached for the glass, the one that was indeed showing pieces of what seemed to be the woods, vines, crystals colored by moonlight, tall trees surrounding a clearing.

Regina didn’t have the time to realize what the glass was showing because the Queen’s hands grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her down as the rubble moved once more, trembling, and cascading down one of the many cracks the dragon had created with its breath. She felt her feet slip as The Queen grabbed the shard as well, both of their blood trickling now from the shard as they fell through the rock.

Down, down, down.

-.-

It was always interesting to see how their little town felt almost circular on the way magic run through it. Curses were dispelled and created almost as easily as difficult they should have been, death and life following each other in a perpetual circle. Emma wasn’t one to dwell on such things, she quite rather preferred to react to things, act if needed to. Anything else, anything that would make her stop and think even more about what surrounded her, made her anxious enough to wish for a way to disappear enough for everything to fall into ruin, and despite everything, she kept on choosing to stay.

Family was always and always had been a fickle, complicated, difficult term for her. She rather wanted to keep what she had created and found. Even if that in itself made her throat seize and close whenever she thought twice on the realness and proximity of her death.

She had said it to Aladdin herself after all; she had indeed tried to escape once. Or twice. But who was counting?

Her knee bounced as she kept on checking her watch and phone, the incessant beep on the room keeping everything, from the white corners, the hospital bed, the bright lights, that surrounded her a stark reminder of how she now couldn’t do anything but wait and sit still.

The moment she had crossed the glass she had turned, grabbing for Henry a second too quick to realize what had happened. The boy had melted into her hug, and she could very well picture him a tad younger, hugging her, close strong enough to almost hurt. She had, as she always did, imagined how many hugs she would miss from then on, but she had pushed through the thought, turning to her side where she expected for Regina to be, hugging just as tightly. The place, however, had been vacant and when she regained enough of her senses to focus on something beyond the boy, she had seen that they both were the only ones on the vault, the mirror broken in pieces and no Regina nor The Queen in sight.

“No!” She had whispered, turning towards where the anvil had been, about to smash it to pieces if needed. Henry had blinked and turned as well; his jaw set in such a mirror image of his other mother that it made Emma bit down her lip. “She didn’t cross.” She had muttered them, for the boy to shake his head and point where a few pieces of glass had been ripped away from the left side of the mirror’s frame. “She grabbed her; she made her fall to her.”

Emma had blinked then, anger rising inside of her, ozone filling the air as her magic returned in full force to her, dirty white clouding her pupils for a moment.

“I told her” She had said, still eyeing the mirror, as if expecting Regina to appear behind it. “I told her that the deal was to none of us needed to sacrifice themselves.”

At the end, they had tried just about everything they could do and when Hook had appeared, hook blazing “I thought the place for her Majesty to be would be the vault, that’s why I came.” He had made her leave the vault. Which she had done not after grabbing a shard of glass and keep it, resolved to find a way to get to Regina.

They had gone to Rumple, even, the man far too preoccupied with Belle and the Sorcerer’s wand to truly give them any more information. But they were short on magic users and Emma had insisted, arguing with Hook when the man had tried to placate her. She needed to return Regina to Storybrooke, she had said with gritted teeth and magic spilling out of her in thick blobs of ire and despair. No matter who she talked to.

“You can’t save them.” Rumple had said, however, eyes focused on the spun gold he had hexed, and Emma had wished to be able to be quick enough to punch the man before his own magic guards reacted to her. “It was already a miracle the mirror at her vault reacted to you alone and that was majorly because the Queen was on this side. She merely tapped onto Regina’s magic. But you can’t, not from here.”

She had stormed out of the shop, going back to her place only to stare at Snow as the woman told her that they were indeed going to liberate Regina, but they would need time.

“I don’t have time.” She had replied, fiercely, and pretended not to see the looks both Hook and her mother gave to each other. Henry had nodded just as fiercely, still on the clothes of the dance he had been supposed to go and Emma felt pain as she thought on how proud Regina had looked when staring at him, how worried she had been for his safety. She had admitted she didn’t know how to raise him but, honestly, as she watched him, she realized they had indeed done a good job, Regina had, indeed, do a good job. And she was planning on telling her that herself. “I don’t have the time, mom, to wait. And Regina doesn’t deserve to be kept on waiting with,- with her! Have you forgotten what she has done, already? What she has given away for us? They, you! All saw what she did when I thought my mind was too far gone, clouded by darkness. She kept on believing I could dial back, turn back. I’m not going to leave her just because it is not the best moment to find her. I will do it even if I need to reenact a curse myself.”

She had felt breathless after her speech, realizing with a numb afterthought that it had been a while since she had talked for so long without being interrupted. She had squared her shoulders and turned back, despite the pain of seeing her parents like they were she couldn’t keep still, idle, she refused so. She pretended not to listen to Hook as the man called for her and with Henry in tow, she closed the door of the apartment with a swish of her own magic, her boots heavy on the floor as she walked out.

It had been then when she had felt a blip, a distant call of a magic that felt mauve and purple and had a distinct scent, and her mind, her own magic, reacted to it as it exploded just behind her eyelids.

She had found both Regina and The Queen at the clearing where they had left the Glass coffin, its frame destroyed as parts of what it had been surrounding the two brunettes who were still holding a piece of it with bloody hands and wrists. They had been unconscious, eyes closed, and for a moment, a far too long one, Emma had feared the worst.

They still had a pulse, however, and when she had knelt next to Regina, very little had mattered the verdigris staining her clothes as she tried to see if her heart was still beating. The brunette had a gnash on her forehead and was far too pale for Emma’s liking. She had instructed for Henry to call an ambulance, his eyes panicked, his own blazer quickly turning into a short blanket over Regina’s form as they waited for the medics to arrive, a quick array of questions and answers being thrown into anyone who would listen to her and then, later, after getting a phone from one of the medics that had brought both Regina and The Queen, to her father as her mother had kissed him awake a few minutes prior.

And so, now, she waited. Still. Unable to do anything but wait.

The Queen was now being watched by her father and a reluctant Hook. When he had tried to follow her to Regina’s room she had stood her ground on wishing to be alone. Regina had gotten out, the man had told her, pointing to the sleeping form of the brunette. Yes, she had, Emma had replied, but she had been unable to tell him that part of the anger that still burned within her came from the fact that she had been factually unable to help her; Regina had gotten out by a mix of luck and magical practicality, a loophole within a loophole created by her blood and the Queen’s on the shard of the mirror that had been not other than the reflective surface of the glass coffin. Blue had been quite succinct at the explanation since she wasn’t versed on witch matters but Emma had caught the gist of it; given that it had been Regina who had created the original hex tying her to the place and how the object Sidney’s mirror had been tied to had ended up being the coffin, the magic of the original curse, the one that still lay dormant around Storybrooke, had called forth the Regina that had cast it originally, both sides of her.

That or she truly needed to study more magic; theory wouldn’t, after all, help her with her current conundrum: knowing that if it hadn’t been for that set of events she wouldn’t have been able to save the woman that now laid next to her. And that, in itself, was a far worse concept than any magical theory they could throw at her.

What kind of savior was she, she considered, fingers intertwined, clasped, knuckles white, feet firmly planted on the floor, knee perpetually bouncing, if she couldn’t help with something as straightforward as a magical jail? What kind of path was she in that she felt even more helpless than when she had first learned she had magic running through her? The title, and what came with it, stung, and weighed her down more these days, with each passing moment the never-ending realization that she wasn’t good enough to even be considered anything despite how her days had an end that kept on looming closer and closer.

There could be a myriad of other details she could be focusing on, of course, but she kept on returning to that point of her logic, not entirely sure what she was supposed to do. Henry had asked to stay, and she had complied, but Violet had appeared a few minutes in and had managed to get him out for five minutes to eat something, to talk. Emma had insisted on Henry to go; “If anything happens I’ll let you know.” She had said, lips thin, voice brittle, and Henry had stood his ground for a few more minutes before sighing. He, too, seemed to be eager to do something, anything, beyond waiting. And Emma couldn’t quite blame him. She at least hoped Violet would make him talk, if only so his feelings didn’t end up exploding inside of him, like bonfires. Which was precisely what she felt like: a straw puppet about to succumb.

“Why do you care this much?” Hook had asked her the moment she had told him to leave her be. “They are too far gone! They will probably not wake up until a few hours at least.”

But that hadn’t been the correct question because it held an answer Emma didn’t want to even consider, not aloud, not for herself and herself alone. So, she had shaken her head, pointed him to the door and turned.

Now, however, with the beep ringing on her ears and nothing to do but wait and count the lines and cracks on the floor, she felt her mind circle back to the question, the multiple ways in which she could have answered it. None of them felt right, not entirely, the multiple concepts of co-parenting, of friendship, correct but lacking. And so, she rose her hands and covered her eyes with them, pressing her fingertips against them until everything she was able to see was black upon black with dots and lines of colors that changed too fast for her mind to fully name them all.

“I told you, I trusted that you would be the one for him once I’m gone.” She mumbled, hoping for her voice to be sufficiently muffled. The noose around her neck tighter and tighter still as she tried to swallow, to form words that seemed too big for her lungs. “Fuck, Regina.”

She glanced up, her vision needing a few seconds upon adjusting, the scent of the hospital room not strong enough to dissolve the ozone and the scent that was Regina’s magic on itself, a soft cloud that had covered the brunette’s body ever since Emma had found her and The Queen, residual and just as weakened as its master, but still there. She now reached for that magic, for Regina’s forearm as her own felt as if pooling on her wrist, around her fingertips like cracks of electricity breaking through the air. If anything would have asked her, she wouldn’t have known why; neither she nor Regina touched each other that much. Touch, like everything else, was done following a pattern: one out of necessity, of high tension. They were economical in their interactions, perhaps because allowing themselves the luxury of simply reaching for the other would be too close to admitting that they wanted to simply be. Emma hadn’t exactly considered it, she had merely replied to what Regina gave her, knowing the fragility of what had been, at best, a truce at first. She now, however, reached for the other woman softly, index finger touching the other woman’s body in a shadow of a caress that felt far too short-lived.

Especially because the moment she did her magic burst out of her in tendrils that felt both gas and liquid in nature, wrapping themselves around Regina’s arm and ascending to the other woman’s mouth as they deposited themselves into her skin, glowing and turning from dirty white to purple a second before disappearing into her.

There was a beat, a second, and then brown eyes opened, searching for Emma’s hand, and clutching them tightly as, down the hall, David’s voice could be heard “She’s awake!”.

[They didn’t hear The Queen’s response for it was said through gritted teeth and breathless whispers, but the majesty’s eyes also glowed with dirty white quickly turning purple, electricity solidifying itself and turning into a plume that enveloped the woman, a final “I know the truth now” an echo that didn’t register to the ones in the room as they scrambled and tried to restrain her to no avail.]

No, they didn’t hear any of it, for it was later retold by David to Henry who had entered the moment screams could be heard, Violet in tow. But Emma kept her hand on Regina’s arm a little longer, eyes glowing, as the brunette coughed up a “Seems that sacrificing myself didn’t quite work.” That made Emma flush, worry renewed.

“We are in this together.” She lowered her voice, as steps echoed outside. “Don’t you dare to pull another one of this on me.”

Regina had smirked then, weak but awake enough for the line to form. “Understood.”

Because if anything happens to you there’s no rock I will turn nor a soul I will not destroy.

-.-

PS: *raises head from what they are reading* Oh, you expected them to kiss? Come on, it’s me! I didn’t call myself a little tease for anything during all the years I wrote for these two Xd Consider this a lost scene, a what if that could have happened. Despite my own personal head canons on when Regina actually started to realize she might be in love with Emma I always liked the scene of Regina at the vault as she and Emma got out of the mirror and Hook came into play. There were plenty of layers there that were always delightful to consider. I needed to do some twists on what happened canonically on this one -and I’m pretty sure the glass coffin ended up in another place rather than being kept at the clearing- but I’m not going to start considering OUAT cannon as something important to follow now, uh? Anyway, this has been written for W and also as a way of a writing exercise for me. As always and forever, comments are very much appreciated. General reminder that me writing for these two every other half a year or so doesn’t mean I’m back to the fandom but I will be delighted to listen to what you think of this one. And please, go and read waknatious’ stories because she is a truly amazing creator, and she deserves the love.

Dianne out

#swan queen #SwanQueen #now back to my studying

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quicksilversquared · 4 years ago

Text

Move to Safety: Chapter 5 (of 6)

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father’s office, he’s sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

It didn't take long at all for the superheroes to gather at the warehouse. Everyone was tense, but there was a fair bit of determination and optimism in their group.

The plan was in place. They all knew what they were going to do. The plan was straightforward and in theory, should be easy enough. There weren't too many superheroes that could overcomplicate things or get in each other's way, and they were all pretty experienced.

"Okay, team, we know what to do," Ladybug told them, her expression completely serious. "Vixen, go ahead and do the Mirage. If you want to settle the Mirage of one of us over yourself to get closer and keep an eye on the akuma, that would be great. If your timer runs low before we can get there, you can leave. I can collect the Miraculous in a couple days." She glanced around. "That goes for everyone, really."

Vixen nodded sharply. "Of course. See y'all on the other side!"

With that, she vanished out the window.

"We'll give her a couple of minutes, then go in," Ladybug told the rest of the group. "We'll be working out of here. And remember- no banter. I'll need to give Seabiscuit instructions for the Portal, and any other talking will get in the way of that."

"The banter can come after Hawkmoth has had his Miraculous confiscated and is in custody," Hornet said, nodding. She paused. "Ah, what will we be doing with Mayura? I know that that plan was still up in the air."

"We want to have Hawkmoth's arrest be low-profile until we have her in custody," Ladybug said. Then she glanced towards Chat Noir. "And then- Seabiscuit, you'll have to recharge. Ms. Sancoeur is out of town, so we'll have to use Portal again. Chat Noir, did you happen to get an address...?"

Chat Noir nodded. "I did. And an itinerary." Nathalie, ever-prepared, had had her post-Fashion Week Break itinerary up on her tablet when Adrien stuck his head in to ask permission to go study at Marinette's house. She had been distracted by something on her computer, and Adrien had snuck a stealthy photo of the itinerary. He opened his baton, then tapped the screen. A moment later, a piece of paper spat out. Chat Noir pulled it out, flipping it over to reveal a printout of the photo he had taken. "We can look at it again when we finish, but I think we should be able to go to the house and jump on her when she returns."

Ladybug nodded as she took the itinerary. "That sounds good. Fingers crossed that the timing works out- and that's Vixen," she interrupted herself as her yo-yo let out a ding. "It's time to go. Sass, Tikki, combine!"

With a flash of light, Ladybug's outfit took on a few streaks of green. She glanced down at herself, then cringed.

"Oh, I look like a Christmas tree," she groaned. "Bad combination."

Chat Noir couldn't help but laugh, some of his tension easing away. Ladybug did look a bit ridiculous, but he had to admit that he was glad that she had taken the Snake instead of asking him to take that role. He might have had more experience using the Snake- and more experience than she knew about- but there was also the risk that he would freeze up and not be as effective.

Not that she knew that.

"Okay, focus," Ladybug told them all, smoothing down the greenish skirt that had appeared with her fusion. She flicked her bracelet, setting the timer. "Seabiscuit, go!"

The next couple of minutes, when Chat Noir tried to remember them in the future, all merged together into a little bit of a frantic blur. Ladybug had given Seabiscuit quick instructions to fix his approach to the lair, and hit it just right- Chat Noir found out later, after he asked- after only three tries, opening the Portal right behind Hawkmoth. As soon as the portal opened, Hornet was through with Sting activated.

Hawkmoth hadn't even had a chance to react before they were on him. Chat Noir ripped the Butterfly Miraculous off of him, turning away before the light could fade and Hawkmoth could turn back into his father in front of his eyes.

He already knew that Hawkmoth and Gabriel Agreste were the same. He didn't need to see that, and he didn't need to see the seething hatred and anger in his father's eyes. It would be too much.

"Hornet, please call the police and deliver Mr. Agreste to them when they arrive," Ladybug directed, and Chat Noir could feel her step up behind him, still focused. "Seabiscuit, can you recharge? We need to Portal over to the house that Ms. Sancoeur is staying at in the next couple of minutes."

Seabiscuit nodded. It didn't take him long at all to detransform and recharge, and then they were hopping through another Portal to Nathalie's family's house. It was empty- they were scheduled to be at the beach, and return for a late lunch- so the superheroes could head down to the first floor unhindered.

From there, it was somehow both not a long wait at all and an eternity before Nathalie returned and they ambushed her. One failed attempt at a transformation later, and they had the Peacock in their hands and Nathalie in handcuffs. Her family was gaping as the superheroes took her away, and Chat Noir couldn't help but feel bad for them.

He had had time to get used to the idea of his father being a criminal and having to arrest him. Nathalie's family had just gotten hit in the face with the shock.

"I think we should send one of the city's akuma victim counselors to them," Ladybug murmured to him as they Portaled back to Paris. "They could probably use some help coming to terms with her being a supervillain."

Chat Noir nodded. He would probably want to do the same thing as Adrien, but he had the extra complication of also being Chat Noir and actually having to deal with all of the extra baggage that came with having to fight his own father. At least he had both Marinette and Plagg to talk to. "Yeah. That's a good idea."

"Ah, and here's villain number two," the lead officer commented when they brought Nathalie down. He and his team took hold of Nathalie, pushing her into the back of the second patrol car. "We've got Hawkmoth in the other one."

"Great." Ladybug smiled, then froze at the sound of a crash across the city. "Ah, would you mind waiting here? We can give a statement, but the last akuma is still at large."

"Right, right, of course!"

"Ready?" Ladybug asked, turning to Chat Noir. She smiled, small but warm. "One last akuma?"

"One last akuma," Chat Noir agreed, letting out a breath. He was starting to feel a little shaky with relief- his father's arrest was over, Nathalie's arrest was over, now they were on familiar ground with an akuma battle again- so getting running again before his knees gave in would be a good idea. "Let's go!"

The final akuma was chasing after a retreating Vixen when they arrived. Vixen's timer was going wild, and she shot them a relieved look as she darted into the privacy of an alleyway to finally detransform. Her Mirages had evidently gotten hit out of existence earlier, so she hadn't been able to use them as cover, but they had arrived just in time.

"That's enough from you, akuma!" Ladybug yelled. "Get ready to be defeated!"

"That's right!" Chat Noir chimed in, rushing in to join her. "Hawkmoth is gone- and soon you will be, too!"

The final akuma battle- more than a skirmish than a battle, since the akuma had been taken off guard by the announcement that Hawkmoth had been defeated- was over in a flash, and then Ladybug and Chat Noir returned to the Agreste mansion. The police officers were still there, though the cars with Mr. Agreste and Nathalie had just pulled away. People had started arriving at the scene, no doubt curious about why the famous Gabriel Agreste was getting arrested. The officers were keeping them back, at least for the time being.

"Ladybug!"

Chat Noir frowned at the small voice, and both he and his partner drew to a stop before they reached the mansion. "Uh, what was that?"

"It's me!" A small head popped out from Ladybug's ponytail, and Chat Noir recognized Nooroo at once. Apparently the Butterfly hadn't been deactivated when Ladybug took it. "Before you head home, there's something I must show you."

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged a look. Ladybug looked worried. "Something more?"

Nooroo wrung his tiny paws. "Y-yes, there's something more. And with Gabriel arrested, it will need to be taken care of sooner rather than later."

"We need to talk to the police first," Ladybug decided after a pause. "We can just give them the basics for now. They're used to us having to leave pretty quickly after battles."

Chat Noir nodded. His gut was churning again, wondering what surprises might be waiting inside. "Yeah. Let's go."

Ladybug jumped down, and Chat Noir wasn't far behind. She approached the chef of police confidently, looking every bit the picture of a superhero that no one was going to cross. He let her take the lead, figuring that she would be a better speaker than him, especially now that he was undeniably distracted.

What did Nooroo need to show them? Something that needs to be taken care of sooner rather than later didn't sound like something innocent, like the Miraculous book. Maybe there was yet another Miraculous, maybe from another box, and Nooroo wanted it to be reclaimed before anyone else could stumble on it and use it for evil.

But then why wouldn't Hawkmoth have used it at all? That just didn't make sense- unless he had just recently found it. But he still would have been frothing at the mouth to try it out, surely. He would have been wearing it, more likely than not, and Nooroo would have had to warn them about it right away instead of waiting for the akuma battle to finish.

So that suggested that whatever Nooroo wanted to show them was something else. And it was almost guaranteed to be something- well, bad.

...maybe it was better not to think about it too much. They would know soon enough, once Ladybug finished talking to the officer in charge.

"We can do a full press conference later this week," Ladybug was telling the chief of police when Chat Noir tuned back in to their surroundings. There were a few news cameras nearby, but they had yet to approach fully. He didn't doubt, though, that their microphones were picking up on every word his partner said. "I'm sure that everyone has a lot of questions about Hawkmoth's defeat and what happened, but- as I'm sure you can imagine- we're all pretty exhausted, and we still have to check on something in the mansion. We'll keep in touch so that we can decide on a good time."

"Thank you, Ladybug," Officer Auclair told her, beaming. "And we'll certainly be doing some interrogation of our prisoners and a sweep of the mansion, plus a number of interviews with people there. We'll let you know about anything we find immediately."

"Thank you." Ladybug smiled at him, and then her eyes flicked to the side, no doubt completely aware of the lurking reporters. "I should tell you, before you do that- we discovered Hawkmoth's identity thanks to the help of his son. Adrien spotted his father with the butterfly kwami and let Chat Noir and I know at once. We wouldn't have been able to defeat Hawkmoth today otherwise."

Both officers and reporters perked up at that, and Chat Noir had to let out a sigh of relief. He had to guess that without Ladybug's comment, he probably would have been dragged out into the public eye under a rather unfavorable spotlight, people wondering about how much he might have known. With Ladybug's comment- well, people were still going to stare and want to get interviews, no doubt, but they would be much less suspicious.

That was probably the best that he could hope for, honestly.

"That is very good information to know, thank you," Officer Auclair told Ladybug. He stepped back, clearly giving her the go-ahead to leave. "And thank you to all of the superheroes for defeating the supervillains!"

The superheroes waved- once to the police, once to the press- and then leapt over the walls surrounding the mansion. Nooroo phased through the door, popping the locks so that the superheroes could get in. Ladybug took the lead, glancing backwards to make sure that Chat Noir was still with her.

"We'll have to go to his office," Nooroo told them, flitting up ahead. "And then use his elevator- I hope I remember the code! We might accidentally end up in the upper lair first."

Chat Noir scooched closer to Ladybug, his nerves mounting. "There's more than one lair?"

"You'll see."

They fell silent as they followed Nooroo into the abandoned office. Their footsteps echoed across the floor, but no one came out to see what they were doing there. Maybe the household staff had already left the house, either because clearly Mr. Agreste wasn't going to be coming back or because the police had already asked them to step out for questioning.

"Step here," Nooroo told them, pointing to a spot on the floor. "You'll have to be close- it's only meant for one person, really." He paused. "Unless you want to go one at a-"

"No," Ladybug said firmly. "We'll stand close together."

Chat Noir nodded, hoping that Ladybug couldn't hear how fast his heart was racing as she stood in front of him, her back against his chest. His theory- his hope- that the thing that Nooroo wanted to show them was just another Miraculous was looking less and less likely. He couldn't think of any reason why his father would keep anything Miraculous-related somewhere other than his office or the lair.

Nooroo flitted over to the painting in front of them, punching in a series of buttons in quick succession. There was a pause, and then the floor they were standing on started moving down- and started moving down fast.

Ladybug's hand tightened around Chat Noir's, her shoulders stiffening. Chat Noir wrapped one arm around her waist, hoping that he wasn't trembling.

He didn't like this.

The floor-elevator shot downwards, lower and lower. There were a few lights along the path, just barely illuminating the tunnel that they were pelting down. It was undeniably spooky, and Chat Noir couldn't stop himself from worrying about what they would do if the elevator broke. The tunnel was tiny, just the width of the tiny platform that he and Ladybug were crammed together on, and it was long. Even when they were moving, he was feeling claustrophobic.

He had to get off. He had to get off now, couldn't this ride be over-

"Hold on, kitty," Ladybug murmured, squeezing his hand. "You're okay. I'm here."

Chat Noir just buried his face in his partner's hair in response. It was better than seeing the tiny tunnel flash past, though it didn't stop him from knowing that the walls were so incredibly close.

Half an eternity- probably just a few seconds- passed before the elevator came to a stop. Chat Noir kept his face down, not wanting to see how small of a space the elevator had taken them to, who knew how many meters before the surface. After a moment, Ladybug squeezed his fingers.

"It's a big space, kitty. You can open your eyes."

Chat Noir blinked, raising his head. Then he blinked at the giant chasm in front of them.

"This is under the city?"

"At least there's not an apartment building above all of this," Ladybug commented, grimacing. "Honestly, the most that should be above it is a park. Then if anything happened..."

She didn't finish her thought, instead stepping off the elevator platform. Chat Noir followed her, eyes flicking around.

There was something about this place that just screamed creepy to him, even without going further into it. There was rust on the walkway that was going over flowing water- if that gave way and they got dumped into that water, that could turn super dangerous really fast- and the lights on the sides of the cavern were just creepy, like ones that he might see in a haunted house. And then, at the far end of the cavern...

There was some muted light coming from somewhere, shining right down on what looked like an underground garden. And in the middle of that garden...

"Nooroo, what's that?" Ladybug asked, sharp and worried. She rested a hand against Chat Noir's arm, making him pause. He had started forward without realizing it, almost drawn to the garden. "This isn't a trap, is it?"

Nooroo shook his head, looking sad. "No trap. Just..."

He trailed off. Ladybug looked worried, but took the lead up the walkway. Chat Noir followed, his ears twitching every which way to try to pick up any sounds that were out of place. Any extra footsteps could be another enemy lying in wait, any excessive creaking from the metal could be a section of the walkway about to give out on them, any out-of-place clicks could be a trap set by Mr. Agreste.

And then Ladybug let out a quiet oh.

Chat Noir glanced forward, pulling his eyes off a flickering shadow on the wall that had caught his attention. Then he froze.

There, in front of them, was his mom. She lay in a glass container, her eyes closed, looking just she had on the day that she had vanished. She was pale in the murky light filtering down into the cavern, but she- she looked fine.

Was she just asleep? Maybe she had fallen under a spell, like Sleeping Beauty or something? Chat Noir's heart skipped a beat at the thought, then soared, hopeful. Maybe they could do something to break the spell, and then- and then-

He might have essentially lost his father because of the arrest, but maybe he could have his mom back.

"Nooroo, what happened?" Ladybug asked quietly. She stepped up next to Chat Noir, her shoulder brushing against his arm. "Can we help?"

"Emilie fell into a coma after using the Peacock for too long," Nooroo told them. He flitted around anxiously, flying up to Mrs. Agreste with a sad look on his face. "It was broken, so it was draining her and damaging her health every time that she used it. So Gabriel used magic to keep her alive as long as possible, and then to preserve her body after-"

The kwami kept talking, but Chat Noir couldn't hear him anymore over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his heart dropping as Nooroo's words properly sank in. His mom wasn't in a coma anymore. She- she was actually gone. Dead. There was no coming back. No way to help her anymore.

No.

He- had had thought that he had come to terms with the possibility of his mom being dead years ago. She had been missing for ages, and her health hadn't been great before that. He had grieved, he had done a private memorial to her, and he had moved on. But then he had seen her, and for a moment- a glorious, terrible moment- he thought that maybe he could have her back. She looked fine. She looked like she was just asleep.

But she was actually gone.

Chat Noir's knees buckled, his breath coming faster. The whiplash from hope to grief was too much, too fast, too overwhelming. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't-

He had to get out. He needed to leave, now, he needed- needed-

"I need Marinette," Chat Noir managed. Maybe his mom was gone, maybe his father was a supervillain, but Marinette knew both sides of him and cared about him and was there for him and gave the best hugs and had been there when he found out about his dad and- "I- I need Marinette-"

"Kitty?" Ladybug sounded alarmed. Her arm slid around him, pulling him close to her. "Oh, gosh. Chat Noir-"

"I need Marinette," Chat Noir insisted. "Pl- please, I need-"

"Oh." Ladybug sounded worried. There was a pause, then, "I'm here, kitty. I've got you."

Chat Noir shook his head furiously, pressing his forehead into her shoulder as she pulled him closer to him. Ladybug was great usually, but she didn't know him. They were friends and partners and had an incredible bond, but Marinette had been his- his pillar for the past couple weeks. "N-no, I want Marinette, she's-"

"I'm right here, Adrien," Ladybug said again, rubbing his shoulder. "I've got you. We can go home soon, I promise. Then we can cuddle in my room. My parents will be fine with it, you know how much they love you. We'll all help you." She pressed her cheek to his. "Okay?"

Chat Noir startled at that, pulling himself back to stare at his partner.

She knew his name. How? Only Marinette knew his name. Maybe she had told Ladybug, except- no. Marinette wouldn't betray his trust like that, and he hadn't noticed Ladybug treating him any different than normal before. Maybe she had just guessed right when he broke down-?

But no. She had mentioned her room, and her parents knowing him which suggested-

He couldn't be this lucky.

"I didn't want to tell you like this," Ladybug murmured, reaching out and pulling him close again. Her thumb stroked his cheek, wiping away his tears. "Tikki and I thought it would be best to wait a couple of days to let things settle down so that we wouldn't overwhelm you with another reveal, but..."

She trailed off. Chat Noir still stared down at her, trying to see past the mask and make out Marinette's features underneath Ladybug's transformation. It was hard, though that might have been because he really couldn't see much of anything right now. Tears were still leaking out of his eyes, making everything blurry. Her voice, though- now that she mentioned it, if Chat Noir hadn't known that it was Ladybug speaking, he probably would have guessed that it was Marinette.

Well. Apparently he would have been right either way.

"Nooroo, how long will Mr. Agreste's spell keep?" Ladybug asked after a minute's pause. Her fingers had threaded through his hair, petting him gently. It felt good, but in a distant sort of way. "If we could have a couple days..."

"Uh...a day or two?" Nooroo offered. "It had to be recast pretty often."

"And if we took her out of the, ah, case?"

"It would break right away."

"Okay." Ladybug let out a long breath. "Once we reclaim the Horse Miraculous, I can jump in here and- and bring her to the right people. The police, probably. They'll know what to do." She hugged Chat Noir close. "We should go now, kitty. Let's get you home."

"But Maman-"

"There- there's nothing we can do to help, kitty." Ladybug's voice wavered, threatening to break, and Chat Noir distantly realized that she was only just managing to hold herself together as well. "I wish there was, but..."

"She died two years ago," Nooroo volunteered quietly. "And had been barely holding on before that."

Two years. That- that had been several years after she vanished. If they- if they had known, if his father had told the superheroes instead of doing whatever it was that he had been trying to accomplish, would they have been able to save her then? If Hawkmoth hadn't driven Master Fu off and had instead approached him to ask for help- if he had seen the Temple and the other guardians return and had called off his attacks then to just ask for help- maybe his mom would be alive now. Maybe he could have had his family again.

But now it was too late.

"We can give her a proper funeral and burial," Ladybug told Chat Noir quietly, shifting against him for a moment before bending down and heaving him up into her arms in a princess hold, just before his knees could fully give way. She staggered for a second under his weight, then caught herself. "She deserves that, rather than being left down here. But we don't need to do anything today, and-" Ladybug's voice wavered again before she caught it. "I can take this set-up to the police tomorrow by myself, so you don't have to see it again."

"I want to help," Chat Noir managed through his tears, curling up against his partner- his best friend, his Marinette- as best as he could. His breath was coming faster, his throat feeling uncomfortably tight, but he had to tell her. He had to make sure that she would let him help. He needed to help. "I want- I'm her son, I should help. I just can't-"

"Shh," Ladybug soothed, pressing her cheek against the side of his head. "Okay, we can try to work with that. Nooroo, where's the spell? If we can cast it again, maybe buy ourselves another week to recover..."

"I can show the spell to you later. Tomorrow, perhaps."

"Thank you." Ladybug squeezed Chat Noir tighter to her. "Would that be okay, kitty? We use the spell once more to keep her- to give ourselves some time," she corrected hastily. "And then when you're ready, we can move her?"

Chat Noir nodded, sharp and jerky. He could do that.

The next few minutes flew by in a blur. They hadn't gone back up the elevator- Ladybug had clearly picked up that he wouldn't be able to handle it- and had instead forced their way up through the skylight. Chat Noir blanked out after that, and only came back several minutes later, detransformed and bundled up in a blanket on Marinette's bed, feeling completely exhausted and wrung out. Marinette herself was next to him, curled up against his side.

"I think my kid's back," Plagg announced, flitting down to land in Adrien's lap- or at least where Adrien's lap would be, buried under several layers of blanket. "Finally! I was starting to get worried, it's been forever. Adrien?"

Adrien swallowed, blinking at Plagg. His eyes felt dry and scratchy. "My- my mom-"

"I know, kid." Plagg let out a comforting purr, pressing up against Adrien. "Marinette told me. I'm so sorry. I wish we could have done something."

Adrien nodded, swallowing again. "She's gone."

Plagg could only purr.

"Nooroo wanted me to pass on his apologies," Marinette said quietly, rubbing her hand against Adrien's arm. "He didn't know that you were Chat Noir, so he didn't know to warn us beforehand."

"He still should have, I think!" another voice piped up, and Adrien startled as Tikki appeared at the foot of the bed. "I think anyone would have appreciated a heads-up. But it had become normal to him after being with Mr. Agreste for so long, so he didn't think of that."

"Oh," Adrien managed to croak, watching as Tikki floated across the bed, struggling to carry something limp and dark- a washcloth? "Okay."

"He and Duusu have gone back into the box for now," Marinette told him quietly, reaching across the bed to take the thing- it was a washcloth- from Tikki. She shifted, adjusting her seat, then started wiping down Adrien's face, washing off the dried trails of tears. Adrien closed his eyes, enjoying the cool, refreshing feel. "Any questions can wait. You got a bad shock."

"Mmm." Adrien relaxed into Marinette's touch, enjoying the attention. He couldn't make himself move, not that he would probably be able to with how snugly she had wrapped him up. Marinette kept wiping down his face, then gently pressed the washcloth to his eyes. It felt good against the puffy skin. He waited for a few minutes, then spoke again. "Mari?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You're Ladybug?"

There was a sigh, and then Marinette sat back. Adrien blinked open his eyes, distantly noting that they felt better already, not quite so swollen and puffy. Marinette was sitting facing him, but her eyes were on her lap. "Yeah. That- that wasn't how I planned on telling you, I'm sorry."

"We knew it was a possibility that something might happen and you would have to do a battlefield reveal, but we- all three of us- thought that the chances of something like that happening was almost nonexistent," Plagg chimed in, flying up into Adrien's line of sight. "But we figured that if we told you- well, the chances of you not being ready and things backfiring somehow would probably be a bigger concern. And we couldn't think of a way to ask without giving things away."

"I wanted to," Marinette said quietly. "So that you wouldn't have to worry about having to tell Ladybug when I already knew, and so that you could know that I was going to be there for you on both sides of the mask. But you were so insistent on Ladybug not knowing, I didn't know if telling you anyway would help or not. If I had known-"

Adrien managed to shake his head. "There- there wasn't any way of knowing. If I hadn't dug in my heels so much about not letting Ladybug know who I was-"

"Okay, okay, let's not get carried away with blaming ourselves," Plagg interjected quickly. "Things could have gone differently, we get that. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, huzzah."

Adrien had to smile at that. Plagg never changed.

"I'm glad everything is out in the open now, at least," Marinette said after a minute. "I've been trying to figure out how I could tell you, but I hadn't been coming up with anything. Like, would the best way be to just saunter up to your room with a cupcake, knock, and go 'surprise, I'm Ladybug! Have a cupcake!'"

Snorting, Adrien shook his head. "Why a cupcake and not macarons? Or cake? Why is there food involved at all?"

"Bribery?" Marinette suggested weakly, turning back around to settle down at his side. "Minor distraction?"

"Oh, bug." Adrien nuzzled down next to her. As if she would ever need to bribe him to- what? Not be upset with her? She had just been trying her best to respect his wishes and not make things harder for him. He could recognize that much. Adrien paused for a beat, then added, "Ah, just in the interest of full disclosure, I don't think I could eat anything right now. I think- I think my stomach is all twisted up into knots. I'd be sick if I even tried."

"I'm not surprised," Marinette admitted. "I'm feeling a bit ill, too, and I didn't get as big of a shock as you did. Don't feel like you have to eat unless you actually want to." She started rubbing his back again. "Maman came up while you were out, so she knows- sort of knows, at least- what happened, so she already knows not to expect us at dinner. I didn't tell her that we're Ladybug and Chat Noir," she added quickly. "Just that- that they had found your mom and that- that nothing could be done." Her voice got quieter with every word, and Adrien guessed that she regretted bringing it up again. They had more or less changed topics to something less unpleasant before, moving into safer topics for discussion. Now they were right back where they had started.

Adrien felt nausea welling up again, the image of his mother just lying there flashing through his mind again. He forcibly pushed it away, not wanting to break down again. "Okay."

"She said that she's going to look up food that should be less likely to upset your stomach so she can make it for dinner," Marinette added. "So that there will be leftovers for us to eat whenever we feel ready."

Adrien nodded again. "Okay."

"Do- do you want to maybe lie down and take a nap?" Marinette suggested after a moment. "I can unwrap the blankets so that you don't overheat. It might help you feel better."

A nap sounded like a great idea, actually. The cool washcloth had woken him up a little before, but now that Marinette mentioned sleep, that was all Adrien wanted to do. "Yes, please."

"Okay." Marinette pushed herself up and made short work of the blankets, freeing Adrien. "You can scoot down now so that you can lay down properly."

"But this is your bed!" Adrien protested, pushing past the approaching fog as best he could. "I don't want to take your bed away-"

Marinette giggled. "You don't take up that much room. And I don't mind, kitty. Really." She helped him slide down, then arranged her pillow under his head. "How's that?"

"Good. Are you sure-"

"Positive."

"Okay," Adrien managed around a yawn. He reached out, even as his eyes drifted closed, and his fingers found Marinette's. "Stay with me?"

Marinette threaded her fingers through his, giving them a light squeeze. "Always."

The funeral for Emilie Agreste was a quiet affair. Since her remaining (non-jailed) family- Adrien, his aunt, and his cousin- didn't want it to become a public spectacle, the whole thing was private, by-invitation-only, and had bouncers at the doors. Amelie had managed to track down a handful of Emilie's friends, and Adrien had invited a few of his own friends for support.

And the Dupain-Chengs, of course. He couldn't ask for better support than them. They had closed the bakery for several days so that they could be available for him, even if he had ended up only wanting Marinette's company for a large chunk of that time. They made sure to stock their cupboards with plenty of foods that he could eat even if he was feeling queasy, and hadn't put any pressure on him to eat when he didn't feel up to it. They had even done the work of reaching out to his aunt for him, relaying the news when Adrien didn't think that he could do it, and had handled most of the correspondence about funeral arrangements until Adrien was more ready. While Adrien was spending time with Sabine, Ladybug ventured out on her own to tell the police about their discovery and to cast the spell to give them a couple more days before they would have to deal with Mrs. Agreste.

Going into that cavern again and Portaling the case with Mrs. Agreste in it out a week after their discovery had probably been the hardest thing Adrien had ever had to do. It was hard not to let the memories of shock and grief overwhelm him again, and to keep himself composed while delivering the body to the police. But he had managed it.

And then he went back to the Dupain-Cheng house, tried to drown himself in the shower, and then curled up in Marinette's bed, because it was comfy and Marinette was nearby and she had loads of blankets that he could burrow beneath that smelled like her. She curled up next to him for a bit, then headed down to the main part of her room to give him some space and get some sewing done. The sound of the sewing machine had been really comforting. Adrien dozed off to the sound, happy knowing that his Lady was so close nearby.

He was going to go right back to their house as soon as the funeral was over. Maybe being at the funeral wasn't as hard as getting his mom's body out- or finding it the first time- but it was still pretty draining, and there was really no better place to recover from that. The Dupain-Cheng home just felt so safe, comforting and warm and welcoming.

He would spend time in his own room, but it just... it was different, and it didn't have Marinette in it. Maybe if he wanted to spend some time alone then he would go to his own room, but Adrien liked the quiet company.

The day dragged on even with the limited guest list. There was the service, then a trip to the cemetery to finally bury Emilie Agreste. Then there had been a reception at a hall nearby, at the insistence of Adrien's aunt, and that had been the most exhausting part by far. Everyone wanted to talk to Adrien and express their condolences for both Emilie's death and Mr. Agreste's arrest, and since he didn't have any other siblings, pretty much all of the attention was on him. Amelie had joined him for a bit to divert some of the attention, but it was all just so much.

Adrien was very glad when the Dupain-Chengs decided that it was time for them to go. They waved good-bye to all of the people who had come to mourn his mom, and then the day was done. Finally.

Adrien sighed, leaning back in his car seat as Mr. Dupain maneuvered the car down the streets back towards the bakery. That was done. It was over. He was still going to mourn his mom, of course, but he could focus on something else now. His mom would want him to move on with his life, like he had been doing the past several years.

And thankfully, he had a new family to help him do just that.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #Move to Safety

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timextoxhajima · 5 years ago

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HOSTIS, Chapter XX: Epilogue (FINAL)

BONUS TRACK - BRYAN ADAMS AND SARAH MCLACHLAN, DON’T LET GO

Previous Chapter (XIX: Rosa)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, fluff

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i won’t let go.”

the first day you met lee hyunjae, he was dubbed one of the cutest boys in school.

dark hair that draped over his forehead, fringe slightly in the way of his eyes which were bright, intelligent, scheming.

girls in the school would swoon over his smile, the way he was so laid back with his friends, not to mention that brain he’s got stored up in his skull.

if you calculated the duration of ten years, counting from the day you first met him, it would’ve been 3650 days.

then the day came that both of you tied for highest score in class in a quiz, and lee hyunjae thought that you, a girl, wouldn’t kick up a fuss when he scribbles all over your worksheet with zero remorse.

but lee hyunjae underestimates you and he watches in seething anger while you throw his stationery out the window and yank on his hair.

it was from that day forth, the both of you were known as ‘ares and ares’.

standing on stage with him barely five feet away was both degrading and prideful. scoring the highest possible scores in the national exam was a feat not many has achieved, yet having lee hyunjae accomplishing this alongside you leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

they don’t release marks for national exams, so maybe, just maybe, had you gotten a few more marks higher than him, you’d beat him out.

at this point of time, four years of fighting was enough to drill the desire to defeat lee hyunjae right through you. a large, gaping hole in your chest where your heart was supposed to be, replaced by a block that dispenses irresistible hatred for him.

then the prince you never knew you needed entered your life. he was tall, gorgeous, kind, though soft-spoken and sometimes a little dense, a little unwilling, but he cares, and it was enough for you.

younghoon was your route for escape on days you wanted to stop fighting with lee hyunjae. you lost count the number of times you felt like you were drinking the words off your textbooks and notes like alcohol for the sole sake of winning. winning a game nearly impossible to win.

who were you and who were you doing this for? maybe it was your parents, the fact that you came from a long line of medical practitioners.

you didn’t want to disappoint anybody, no.

but would you have gone so far if lee hyunjae was lazy? if he was unmotivated? if he didn’t contain the same fiery need to beat you at this game that had no end?

you will come to realise that his undying need to destroy you is as vehement as yours, maybe even stronger, you may never find out. and this realisation comes in the form of your chemicals sputtering out across the lab table, garnering you the one and only F grade you will ever have in your life.

but in the days that you enjoy seeing him smile, and having his hands on your cheeks with his lips on yours to tell you he loves you, you will find out that there was more mistake in your own hands than he put in place for you.

he didn’t make many changes to your experiment set up besides dilute just one of your chemicals.

if you did the math correctly, you were the one who poured twice as much sodium chloride into the experiment than needed, causing the rampant spitting of gut-wrenching scented chemicals all over the desk.

he was happy to see that he has pissed you off, but you remember the photo someone took of him when he was in a club, pressing his lips onto another girl despite the whole school knowing he was dating minhee.

but in the seconds you wished could last longer when he was making love to you, there will always be that pang of guilt in the back of your head eating you away, no matter how many times he said he has forgiven you.

the girl in the picture was a friend he met in the club while with his friends from another school. lee juyeon, was it?

she had been dumped mercilessly by her jackass boyfriend and hyunjae was simply being a kind soul so as to chat her up, make sure she was sober enough to go home.

of course, granted he was speaking the truth when he said this to you.

the alcohol must’ve taken control of her nerves, her thoughts, her muscles, and the girl’s want for affection drove her forwards, crashing her lips onto hyunjae.

he was stunned, he was in shock, and he doesn’t recover fast enough for him to remove himself from her, giving your friend adequate seconds to snap a picture and send it to you.

“lee hyunjae is cheating on choi minhee.”

hatred becomes infinite, and he hates you even more when you show minhee the picture after he barely ruined your experiment.

losing minhee was comparable to ares stealing his sun, his moon, his stars.

he decided he would steal yours too.

but in the eyes that he uses to steal your love and your affection for him, you will find out that he feels terrible for investing time and effort into editing and posting that picture online.

the four years abroad gives you time to think, gives you space to be your own winner, gives you enough to feel like yourself again.

that you were studying medicine because you wanted to help people. you wanted to save lives.

you wanted to be someone’s light, for you’ve spent the last seven years being someone’s death match.

so it would never be enough for when you were dumped back into the same space as hyunjae again after ten years.

you’ve run one gigantic round, only to end up in the same spot.

he is taller now, physically larger. his hair is dark brown compared to his black hair when you first met him at thirteen. he is cockier, more arrogant, more confident.

he has that signature smirk on his face you’ve spent days plotting some kind of strategic idea to remove.

but he is as beautiful as a rival could ever come, you will just never admit it until he confesses his love for you first.

for the first time in four years, you speak to him without driving your forearm into his neck and shoving him into a locker somewhere. the urge to stick a pen up his nose was jumping around inside you like a ping pong ball on a table, but you hold yourself together, bracing yourself for another painful, torturous period of your life.

but time will tell you that despite spending so much time hating him and staying a safe distance away from him, you will grow to need him in your life. he is your driving force; he is your push to excel in life.

then that kiss happened. all because he couldn’t shut his mouth. he snaps you into two like a twig after you remove his report. he makes you beg and apologise about something you don’t regret doing, because you know he would do the same.

he makes you watch how much your body was enjoying it, against your will. in all your years, there has not been a single soul who could break you.

but he did, and he will remain the only person who can break you.

then that intern came along despite the markings on your neck, despite the lack of balance your legs could offer you.

eric was the sun after an eclipse. he was the rainbow after a storm, and he was the water you drink after a run.

eric is who you wanted.

eric lips taste like a strange mixture of beer and blueberries, and he smells like the beach.

how nice would it be to dig your toes into the sand, let the sun kiss your skin into a shade of honey, and listen to eric talk about why he loved doing what he’s doing?

but phtonos, the god of jealousy, will puppeteer hyunjae like a wooden doll, to remind you that he is the only one who can make you suffer a crack in your hardened, protective skin, where your hatred and intense emotions will spew out like blood from a cut.

you should’ve known that there has been a shift in your dynamics, a shift that was immeasurable.

not just because it was huge, but because it no longer involved who wanted to win. because it now involved the matters of the heart, the mind and the soul.

you were feeling it when he has his hand on your thighs infront of eric.

‘kitten’ becomes his spell for you. he who has you wrapped around his finger like a ring, not because he made you one, but because you chose to let him claim you.

it should’ve been more obvious, given that the both of you were qualified, supposedly intelligent people.

but it’s not.

not until you fall for all his little moves and gestures. the way he knows how attracted you are to his physique, the way his muscles shift under his skin and the way you love to feast your eyes on his build.

it becomes dangerously glaring to you that your relationship with hyunjae was getting more complicated by the second. when you have him buried inside you and you use eric to push him over his edge. when he rams into you the way you will never know how eric would.

when you wake up in his bed the next morning and he’s right there next to you.

but it was like the universe was telling you to wake up and see your reality, and they send a reminder in the form of an old flame your way.

younghoon reminds you that the person you want isn’t the person you need, and you refuse to accept that they aren’t the same person.

younghoon also tells you he still loves you, but that doesn’t leave a mark on your heart, not the same way it would when you would ditch eric and run off into someone else’s arms.

but you would have to endure days of loss. it’s the feeling in your bones when you lose a loved one, it’s the feeling in your gut when you remember how younghoon broke up with you. he was not yours, and you were not his, so why did it hurt so much? why did it hurt to watch him hurt, and you didn’t know why?

there wasn’t enough gratitude in the world you could hold in your hands and pour it all over eric when you chose to leave him, your sun, for hyunjae, your toxic motivation.

that hug eric provides you reminds you that people cannot function without other people. it reminds you that you have a tumor in your heart you couldn’t diagnose. it reminds you that you can have the cure, and it was a choice of whether you wanted to embrace it, or save your pride and let it grow.

“i love you” was the last thing you’d ever expect to say to lee hyunjae, much less say it while he is kissing you, while he has his arms wrapped around you, while he is saying the exact same thing with tears rolling over his lower lids.

choi minhee becomes a reminder that you don’t want anybody else involved between the two of you. mrs kang becomes a reminder that he loves you in ways he hates it, and the best part of it was that you knew exactly how he felt.

seeing his mother for the first time in ten years puts a look of pleasant surprise on her face.

but her kind soul will impart the knowledge to the both of you that both families were just waiting for this to happen. it was just a matter of time.

eric’s last day has ended, and the friendship you have forged with him becomes so important, you could not be anymore grateful that the kiss at the party happened.

had you not found out how eric would’ve tasted like, every other block of domino wouldn’t have tipped over the same way it eventually did.

hyunjae has eric wrapped in his arms and eric’s cheeks turn red at the lack of oxygen in his system.

“uh-- hyung-- i can’t--”

“oh, sorry!”

eric clears his throat and adjusts his collar. you just had dinner with hyunjae and eric, and now you were standing before the building eric was residing in, with hyunjae’s car parked right opposite the road.

“if i didn’t know better, i’d think you’re still mad at me for almost taking y/n from you.”

a light giggle runs across your lips and you raise a brow at eric.

“ten points for wit, eric.”

hyunjae rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“i would say i am... but it doesn’t matter. she’s here now, and she’s mine, not yours.”

eric raises both his palms up into the air, surrendering. he breaks out into small chuckles when hyunjae gives him a gentle punch to his shoulder.

then hyunjae releases you and holds out his hand, inviting eric to take it and they do one of those bro-hugs or shoulder bumps only guys would do.

“thank you, eric.”

but the strength of your friendship with eric will be proven unbreakable when he calls you up every month, inviting both you and hyunjae to a meal where you were supposed to eat with him on your date with him.

it is one year later that time comes hand in hand with your profession to teach you the value of life, for one of your patients flatlines in the middle of the night.

you were safely wrapped in hyunjae’s arms, souls wandering in each other’s hearts.

doctor choi said it was unnecessary, but both you and hyunjae still run off to the car under the bright moon where wolves would be running and owls hooting, dressed in nothing more besides shirts and pants when you meet the elder doctor in the ward.

mrs kang passed away in her sleep at 3.48am.

it was her birthday.

watching hyunjae break into a million pieces without physically resigning to his tears crushes you.

you couldn’t help the one or two tears that managed to escape your eyes, and you were ready to bawl once you got back home, or to his place.

but hyunjae breaks down in the car without even starting it up. it’s horrible that it comforts you to know that he cries more over the death of someone than you, but nonetheless, he bares his soul to you, and you embrace it like it was a thin sheet of glass waiting to shatter in the wind.

life and time is relentless because it doesn’t stop for anybody. by the time mrs kang’s body was cremated and her ashes scattered into the ocean, there was already someone else in that bed, in need of your care.

hyunjae bounces back to reality within a week. though you know his heart was still hurting, you remember he was a professional, and professional doctors try never to let their feelings take hold of their work.

the both of you make it a point to sit by the shore of the waters they scattered mrs kang’s ashes in every now and then.

she must be so happy that the advice she gave hyunjae was true, that love will always find a way.

so you are choking in denial when you find yourself in the hallways of the school you first met hyunjae in, where you yanked on his hair and he scribbled all over your worksheets.

you were both invited back to the school to talk about pursuing medicine as a career, and the principal (who was no longer the greasy old man) lets the both of you roam about the compound.

“oh, wow,” you peer out the windows of the classroom where you threw his stationery out eleven years ago. “i wonder if anybody actually found your--”

you were turned around, ready to tease hyunjae for being the childish kid he was, only to see him on one knee just feet away from you.

“pens...”

his eyes don’t leave yours while his hands fumble in his blazer, and he pulls out a red velvet box with the brand name engraved into it on the top.

“i can only hope that one year has been enough for you to hate me a little less, because i know you still do. it’s the same for me.”

“but i know enough that i love you more than i hate you. you are stronger than i ever thought you were, you are smarter than i assume you are, and you are kinder than people expect doctors to be.”

the box opens, and the ring inside forces tears into your eyes. your heart is thumping against your chest and your hands fly up to your face to cover your mouth and nose.

“i’m sorry that i’ve given you so much pain and resentment, and i wish i could’ve earned your love without doing whatever i did. it is the last thing i want to see... seeing you hurt.”

“and i promise you that you’ll never have to hurt ever again. well -- if you get butthurt over my possible promotion--”

“hyunjae!”

“okay, okay,” he laughs and his smile was so bright, it finally pushes tears over your lower lids.

“i wish mrs kang was here to see this. to see that she was right.”

“we’ll fight everyday if it means you’ll fall more in love with me. because that’s what happened last year, and i didn’t know it. now i know i do, and i love you a little more every time you get upset when i win you in a game or everytime you rub it in my face when i lose. it means that you are worthy of being one half of ares, and now i want you to be my half of an ares.”

“so marry me, and don’t ever let go. i don’t know where i will find this -- you -- anywhere else.”

it feels like the sun was pouring itself all over you when the words run through your nerves and lay themselves all over you like a warm blanket. it feels like flowers blooming in spring after winter.

it feels like love.

it really does.

“will you marry me?”

the nod shakes your head first, and more tears billow out down your cheeks.

“yes, yes... yes, yes.”

hyunjae’s eyes were light and loving when he removes the ring from the box and slides it up your finger. your hands were trembling in his when he stands up, and you pull his face into yours to kiss him.

every puzzle piece in your life falls into place. that was such a cliche thought, but you now know what it really means to be half of a whole.

all this while, you were one of two, so becoming half of one feels more intimate. it tastes sweet on your tongue and it feels warm on your body.

he is smiling when he pulls away, fingers stroking your cheek so gently like he was afraid to break you.

you laugh under your breath while you close your fist, feeling the ring around your finger and letting the reality set into your existence.

then you look up into his eyes and you see not stars, but fire in them. and you decide that fire was all you needed.

your arms wrap around his neck this time, already pulling him in towards your lips while his arms snake around your waist.

“i won’t let go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@vxstarlightxv asked to be tagged so i did :”) she is the author of 17.5 in case you guys didn’t know.

A/N: i am SAD this is over. like... it feels weird to know that i don’t have to wake up and worry about how to fuck these two up even more as if they already aren’t fucked up on their own kdsjdksd.

this has been my first e2l fic i think, and it was such a ride. i’m not a fan of the e2l trope because i found it unrealistic, so when i started out on hostis, i had to make a conscious effort to make sure it is believable, that their dynamics is buyable, and that their story isn’t cringey or shallow.

i’ll best be honest i am sad this isn’t an eric fic ujfsod, #teameric :(

anyway, personally i hate BOTH y/n and hyunjae. but their dynamics definitely get more endearing after their confession (“but dana what’s the fun of that??”) yes i know i’m boring welps.

it has been such a crazy ride with hostis, i have headaches every now and then writing for these two fktards bec they are so ANNOYING but i’m SOOOO grateful that you guys love them so much :”)

once again, i thank you all for finding joy and comfort in reading my work. it will ALWAYS mean alot for a writer to have readers.

with this, we come to the end of hostis, and may you find your very own dr. hyunjae ;)

i’ll see you soon with a juyeon one shot :”) lets all die together cause ik i will LMAO

- love, dana

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz lee hyunjae #the boyz #hyunjae fic #timetohajima #timetohajima hostis

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 5 years ago

Text

TS: Farak (Difference) [1/3]

An air of melancholy seeped into the air of the Raizada mansion. In a few minutes their pillar of joy, Anjali, had crumbled into a sobbing mess. Her marriage, belief, love and trust had been tested.

And joy’s namesake, Khushi, wandered in the halls in the lonely night - hoping to find solace.

The revelation had gone terribly wrong. Anjali’s fragile mind and body had been unable to cope with the truths she had been gaslighted against. Khushi had learnt, in the worst way possible, that intentions had no place nor merit against consequences.

Khushi leaned against the door to Nani’s bedroom, her legs heavy and head throbbing from the recent events.

Forced Marriage. Mistrust. Kidnapping. Love. Rescue. Revelation. Aftermath.

Things should have been better.

Except Shyam’s sudden expulsion had only led to a poisonous, permanent scar that damaged and questioned all relationships.

A nervous shiver ran up her spine. Did the rest of the family believe Shyam’s version of events? Or worse, believe she could have avoided the pain caused to Anjali if she had only told the truth?

But would anyone have believed her then? Could Payal and Akash’s engagement have been salvaged from it?

A loud bang snapped Khushi out of her thoughts. A furious Akash left his room.

How does one ever know one’s making the right decision?

Her heart hurt. With a gentle push she entered Nani’s room, hoping for her guidance and strength. Nani was the first and only one to call her blameless and reach out to her post the revelation. The only one to believe in her intentions.

And it had been so long since she’d slept on someone’s lap and cried her heart out.

---

Devyani hummed the last of an old lullaby, patting an exhausted Anjali to sleep. Had she been a bit younger, anger and shock would have ruled her. But after the death of her daughter, Devyani could only feel horror and recollection of the past.

The past that made her too agreeable to the first man who could win her dear Anjali’s heart, or heap unassuming, traditional prospective brides on her grandson.

The past she had accused her grandson of not moving on from.

Hypocrite.

On seeing the shadow of the angel faced bride of her Chotey, Devyani allowed a single, unkind thought to possess her.

She didn’t deserve to be near Anjali.

And before Devyani could reign her mind, her hand stopped Khushi from entering the room, and her heart.

---

Khushi headed towards the steps, her feet numb and head swimming with Nani’s quick apology and request.

Stay away from Anjali.

Please.

The more she sees you, the more she’ll remember.

The words stung like the slap her mother gave her on the wedding day. She deserved it, but it hurt nonetheless. Arnav sat on the steps, his own brow furrowed in deep thought. Nani’s words had pricked him, but he knew better. He knew, and believed, that Khushi was not at fault.

Her feet gave way and she sat by Arnav, quaking in fear and uncertainty.

And he banished her fears with a tired smile and an offer of his shoulder.

She didn’t remember when she reached their bed, but the fleeting kiss on her forehead and the warmth of his hand in hers gave her the hope that she wasn’t alone.

And she could lighten her burden of guilt.

As long as he was there.

---

Time and normalcy would heal all wounds. While everyone catered to Anjali, Khushi catered to the family.

Nani received her daily medication for arthritis. Akash and Payal’s breakfast was sent to their room. The laundry delivery was looked after, so were all the other household chores.

The family could focus on Anjali, and help her heal - just as it should be. Payal shot her a concerned look on her way to Anjali’s room as Khushi lost her footing for a moment, her head dizzy.

Khushi gave Payal a reassuring smile. If her mental fatigue left her like this, one could only wonder how Anjali survived the night.

If anything, Arnav’s sweet smile and a breakfast sent by her Jiji gave Khushi the strength to trudge through the day.

She sat on a kitchen stool, weary, when she remembered it was a Tuesday. Her and Nani’s time to go to the temple.

---

“Sorry Khushi bhabi, Nani ji already left,” Hari Prakash informed Khushi.

“Kya, why didn’t you tell me? When did Nani-”

“What else do you expect Phati Sari?” Manorama sneered, ushering Hari Prakash away.

“I don’t understand Mami ji,” Khushi looked at her, balking at the hatred in Manorama’s eyes.

“Spelling karke de kya? Sasuma isn’t a fool to take the reason for Anjali’s devastation to the temple when she’s trying to pray for Anjali bitiya,” Manorama seethed. The gall of the girl to think she’d go on a sunny walk with Sasumaa to the temple when everyone had barely slept a wink!

“Nahi Mamiji! I didn’t mean any of this-” Khushi reached for her hand but Manorama stepped back, nearly shoving Khushi aside.

“Shut up! You Gupta sisters did this on purpose. You both trapped our sons and ruined Anjali’s life!” Manorama cried.

“No Mami ji, why would Jiji and I do it? We just wanted to save Di from suffering,” Khushi choked, her own reasonings hollow to her ears.

Manorama, despite her anger, couldn’t argue with that one statement. Khushi and Payal, truly, had nothing to gain from Anjali’s pain.

“And that man was truly a devil, he…” Khushi shivered as memories of Shyam’s harassment assaulted her.

“Then why did you stick around him?” Manorama snapped.

“To find Arnav ji! You know that, don’t you?” Khushi pleaded. Manorama had to know the truth. She certainly didn’t believe Khushi willingly spent time with her assaulter. Did she?

“Mami-”

Manorama huffed and walked away, leaving Khushi to her questions.

---

Khushi had only meant to help Anjali. And the unborn child. Nani was in the temple, Mami wouldn’t speak to her and Payal was troubled.

It was only a morsel of food and a few words of empathy.

To the woman who had made Khushi a Raizada. To the only person who took every effort, despite the family’s shared anger, to restore Khushi’s honor by granting her the rituals of a new bride.

Her best friend, her new sister.

Di.

It never registered with Khushi that Anjali would leave to abort her child. Nani’s disappointment and Mami’s scolding terrified her.

Payal was strung, pulled in two opposite directions when Arnav rushed in with an unconscious Anjali, and Khushi slumped on the sofa, white as a ghost.

With so many hurt, who could she help? Who should she help?

---

“You are the biggest mistake of my life Khushi Kumari Gupta,” Khushi hitched at the use of her maiden name, and his claim.

“I wish I never met you,” Arnav snarled, leaving her alone by the poolside.

Breaking her heart and taking her only hope away.

Khushi had no more tears left to cry.

---

“What happened, where are you going?” Akash asked, several hours later.

“Woh, I was thinking I should check up on Khushi. Especially since what’s been happening since this morning-”

“-and do you even know who has been suffering since this morning?” Payal bristled at his tone. Akash stared at his wife in wonder, was his mother right? Did neither of the sisters get the magnitude of their actions!?

Payal couldn’t collect her wits. How could she make him understand that Khushi had been suffering as well? She’d seen it in her little sister’s scars and terrified eyes.

She didn’t even get a chance to ask how she and Arnav had survived the kidnapping.

“You want to check on Khushi?” Akash scoffed, “Do you have any idea about Di’s state?”

“Akash I didn’t mean that. Di means just as much,” but there is no one for Khushi.

“Payal, you aren’t just Khushi’s sister. You are the daughter in law of this house. And your duties as a bahu outweighs those of a sister.” Payal stood rooted to her spot, unable to defend, unable to believe everything her husband of six months said.

“Or perhaps you don’t feel thinking or caring for Di is a part of your responsibility.” Akash stormed out of the room without a second glance.

---

After half an hour Payal mustered enough strength to go to Khushi’s room, despite Akash’s hostility. What she found was not her sister.

Pale and and delirious, Khushi shoved her clothes into her duffle bag, careless about the ripped gota and pom poms. Her hands and feet were unsteady, unable to hold on to all the clothes her thin arms carried.

“Khushi?” Khushi stopped at the gentle touch of her sister.

“Jiji, I have to leave. I… I am the cause of Di’s pain. I should have never listened to Amma, I should’ve told him the truth when time came. I… what was I thinking?!”

Payal engulfed Khushi into a hug, shushing her cries. In few, incoherent words Khushi told the truth.

The will, Arnav’s kidnapping, Mami and NK’s aid, NK discovering the whole truth, Shyam’s attempt on both of their lives, their eventual rescue.

“Khushi, you and Arnav ji haven’t visited a doctor yet?” Payal exclaimed, checking Khushi’s scars.

“Nothing happened to us Jiji, I don’t need a doctor. Par Di, I didn’t know she’ll end-”

“Khushi, no, you and Arnav ji will head to a hospital-”

“-Bhai,” Akash stepped in the room, with no effort to hide his disappointment, “Payal, of course, you’re here. Di got up. I don’t know where’s her medication is and she needed food-”

“Hum abhi-”

“No it’s ok, talk to your sister, I’ll figure everything out.” Akash stepped out, leaving Payal torn. Which sister should she attend to?

Payal didn’t have to decide. Khushi ushered her out, after a promise to head to the doctor. In her heart Payal knew that Khushi hadn’t told her one thing.

Arnav’s reaction to Anjali’s abortion attempt.

---

Khushi could barely stand on her two feet, her world turning before her every second. At one moment Arnav claimed that he didn’t mean anything he had said before, in another he reduced their marriage to the contract he forcibly bound her to.

What did he not mean? If every word of what he said is not what he meant, then was his current threat of their contract marriage also not true? Or the whisper of an “I Love you” over the phone?

Arnav turned around, unable to meet Khushi’s eyes. He could no longer lie to her.

And she would not stop at his plea.

He’d make up for every injury up, every pain. He just needed time. And if it was necessary to hurt her to get her to stay back, he would do so. If he needed to confirm that their marriage, and everything in between, was nothing more than a contract… he would do so.

He could not afford to lose her.

“If I leave… drag me to court? Police? Jail?”

“I’d do what I promised,” Arnav swallowed, unable to hold his shame in his lie, “Separate Akash and Payal.” Stealing his resolve, he said, “By now you know-”

Thump.

He turned and lost his footing. Dread stole his voice and clutched his heart in a vice grip.

A silent scream left his mouth.

Khushi lay on the floor, motionless.

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Read Part 2

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A/N: Second part will be up soon. A big thank you to @ridzmystique for checking on this story and pushing me to complete Farak. Thank you for reading/liking.

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #ts: farak #fanfiction

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secret-kkh-fics · 4 years ago

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Light Casts a Shadow - Chapter 3

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like but DON’T REBLOG my fics.

Chapter Index | First Chapter | << Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Chapter Summary:

Continuing their conversation, the Darkling and Alina discuss the coup and come to a compromise. Aleksander even shows his softer side as he answers Alina’s questions. But can they truly trust the other?

Author Note:

Yet another chapter I really had fun with. I love playing with the balance of the seriousness, as well as the longing they both feel and where they slip from tension to familiarity and back again. This is far from the end of their conversations, but it wraps up for the night.

Hope you enjoy!

A Fragile Compromise

Alina’s chest tightened, and all the air left her lungs. She was certain that her eyes were bugging out, and her mouth was hanging open. She wasn’t sure how the Darkling could sit there looking as calm and collected as he did after he’d just spoken those words.

Those terrifying, traitorous words.

“Kill the king?!” she repeated breathlessly. “You want to start a coup?!”

“I have spent centuries watching that imbecile and his forebears hunt, kill and mock our people. I have watched them run Ravka into the ground for their own arrogance and pleasure. I have watched them become even more useless and greedy than the one before. You’ve met Prince Vasili. Can you really tell me that he will be a good king?”

Alina’s nose screwed up as she thought of the crown prince. With his weak chin he’d inherited from his father and the lazy eyes that made him seem perpetually sleepy or drunk. The latter being the most likely as he was known to drink as well as whore and race horses, and do little else.

She slowly shook her head. “But… how will you get him to step down. O-or are you planning on killing him too?”

“Vasili is weak,” he said. “There’s a chance he may rebel for his pride, but I’m sure that he’d rather abdicate than lose his life.” She nodded absentmindedly, almost in a daze.

“Don’t they have another son?” she asked. “Genya called him… Sobachka.”

“Ah, yes. Nikolai. He won’t be a problem. The boy is a bastard.”

“A-and you want to rule instead?” Her voice was hesitant. She was speaking treason for crying out loud.

“I wouldn’t say want is the right word. I never wanted to. But in trying to make Ravka a safe haven for Grisha, I have become accustomed to command. I more than have the experience necessary.”

He sat proudly in his chair, exuding confidence in his statement. She wanted to say that he was completely arrogant, but… He had once been an advisor to King Anastas hundreds of years ago. He was still an advisor to the king and had been for hundreds of years. He ruled the Grisha. He really did have a lot of experience. And, she supposed, also the experience of a long life knowing better than the short-sighted kings who couldn’t see beyond their own reign.

Oh, Saints. She was beginning to agree with where he was coming from.

“O-okay,” she said quietly.

“I refuse to be ruled by useless kings and let our people suffer anymore. Do you, Alina?”

She swallowed heavily. He was asking if she was with him… still with him. After all, she’d hesitantly agreed to help him, so long as it was on her own terms. She wasn’t sure how treason and regicide sat with her. Or any murder at all, for that matter. But she was finding that she agreed with the sentiment of everything he said. All the reasons he had for doing the horrible things he planned…

Oh, Saints… She had never believed in them, but she prayed that this wasn’t just manipulation.

No.

No, Feydor was coming later to confirm this was the truth. But then… he’d said it himself. Baghra could manipulate with nothing but the truth. She wouldn’t be all that surprised if he could too. He could tell her anything to get her on his side, say the things she wanted to hear, and through omission, not a word he spoke would be false. And she wouldn’t have a clue since his face gave very little away.

She let out a slow, steady breath.

“No. I don’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper. If the room wasn’t so quiet, he probably wouldn’t have even heard her. The slightest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lip, a smug, hungry one. He knew he had her. He liked that she was choosing this. “I-I don’t know if I like it,” she admitted. “But I can see why. I… agree with your reasons.”

“We can remake the world, Alina,” he told her with renewed fervour. “A world with no war. No need for Grisha to hide. We can change it. Together.”

Her breath shuddered out of her, and she closed her eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. She didn’t see his smile, but she was sure he was. She snapped them open to see his prideful, victorious grin she knew had been there. “But I have some demands.” His brows rose. “I want honesty,” she said first. “I want you to tell me the truth about everything, no manipulations, no tricks, no omissions. I want to know exactly what I’m getting into. And I want you to listen to me when I have concerns. I want you to be willing to compromise on situations and actually discuss plans with me. I’m willing to compromise. Are you, Aleksander?”

He stared at her a long time, and she remained as firm as she could, her chin tilted up defiantly, though her heart was pounding loud enough she was sure he could hear it.

“Those are… acceptable terms, Ms Starkov,” he told her.

Her entire body sagged in relief, the tension flowing out of her. She was in way over her head, and she knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. There was still so much they had to talk about. But she felt like this was the better idea. Saints knew, if she’d listened to Baghra and run, she’d likely be hunted by both the Darkling and all his enemies. She didn’t know if she could fully trust him yet, but she knew she trusted him more than the others. She at least knew he would keep her safe, at least for his own plans, if not for her.

“As long as you are also honest with me, Alina,” he told her. “I want to know what you're thinking. I don’t want you suddenly running off because you don’t agree with something or don’t trust me. If you want to compromise, we will need to talk to each other.”

She nodded. “I’m okay with that,” she told him. “And I-I won’t run off.” She shot him a wry grin. “Besides, where would I go?”

He frowned. “You aren’t trapped here.”

“Aren’t I?” she said, her voice small. “Everyone outside wants to kill me.” She tried to laugh, but it was short and hollow. “Even in here. Didn’t you say there was an assassination attempt?”

He nodded that edge of steel back in his eyes. “Sent by General Zlatan.”

“What happened? How did you catch him?” she asked. She hadn’t noticed any attempt on her life. And that seems like it would have been a noticeable event, unless… A loud gasp left her lips. “Marie!”

Aleksander’s eyes softened, a sadness there as he nodded. “The assassin attacked her and Genya in the fitting room before dinner even started. The Oprichniki heard gunfire and found him attempting to escape. Genya is okay,” he told her. “Her kefta saved her from taking a bullet to the shoulder.”

She noticed that he had neglected to say anything about the girl who had been pretending to be her. “And Marie?” she asked.

He looked down, his face stony. “She didn’t make it,” he said quietly.

His words were like a blow to her stomach. She felt ill, and pain blossomed through her chest, making it hard to breathe. No… No, Marie couldn’t be… It was only that afternoon that they had been in the changing room laughing about how she’d accidentally set Sergei on fire. She still remembered just how embarrassed she’d been that she’d burnt and almost drowned the boy she had a crush on after weeks of psyching herself up to talk to him. Now she never could.

She didn’t make it…

She felt tears begin to run down her cheeks, her throat sore, as if she’d swallowed a sharp lump of ice. Marie had been one of her first friends here. Sure, she’d found her a bit snobbish and a massive gossip, but that came with the territory of being raised at the Little Palace. She’d enjoyed her company, and her gossip had helped her navigate her new life so much when she’d first arrived. Spending time with Marie and Nadia had been one of the few things she truly enjoyed here and-

Oh, Saints… Nadia. Did Nadia know? How would she react to her best friend being murdered? Would she hate her for Marie’s death? After all, the assassin was trying to kill her, not Marie. Marie was innocent. She never should have been there. She wasn’t supposed to die…

“How?” she asked, her voice tight and trembling. “What did he do to her?”

“Alina-”

“No!” she cried, cutting off his soft warning. “He thought she was me. She died protecting me. She died because of me!”

“She died because that filthy otkazat'sya wanted money and didn’t care who he had to kill to get it.” His voice was fierce, seething with hatred.

“How?” she repeated.

He studied her a moment before speaking quietly. “He sliced her throat open. Genya said that her last request was to wear her own face. She’s beside herself because she feels if she’d taken the path of a Healer, she could have done something.” He let out another bone-weary sigh. “It still would have been too late.”

She shook her head, still almost in denial that Marie was gone. It was like she’d understood the words, but her heart was still yet to accept them. Hesitantly, Aleksander finally moved from his chair, approaching her like a frightened animal and knelt before her. He lifted his hand to her face once more, ever so slowly, looking for any trace of uncertainly. When she didn’t so much as flinch away or even look fearful at his approaching touch, he let his hand gently glide across her skin to cup her cheek.

“I am sorry, Alina,” he told her gently. “I understand how you feel. I may have shut myself off from caring about people a long time ago, but I still remember the pain. Each loss never goes away… but it does get easier.”

She sniffed. “How could this ever get easier?” She couldn’t imagine that any death would be easy. Everyone she’d seen die in the last few months still haunted her. Raisa, Alexei, Liev, all the soldiers on the skiff, even the Fjerdan the Darkling had cut in half to stop him from killing her. “And w-why would you stop yourself from caring?” she asked, her brow furrowed. She saw how he looked after his Grisha. Surely he had to care. You couldn’t go forever without caring for people. Heck, she’d tried not to care about the people here, and that had been a massive failure.

“I have lived a very long time, Alina. I have seen too many deaths, either at the hands of others or old age. At a certain point, you become used to it. You accept that everyone around you will die sooner than later.” He sighed deeply. “It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more.”

She didn’t need him to say it for her to understand what he meant. He tried not to care about anyone to avoid the pain. More tears spilt over her cheeks as she thought about what that could possibly like. To live so long that everyone you cared for died over and over again to the point that you just didn’t care anymore. She imagined it would be similar to having a pet with a much shorter lifespan than your own. That’s how he saw people… Fleeting. She could see it in his eyes, just how ancient he was. An abyss of knowledge and memories in his dark grey eyes that she might one day come to understand.

The Darkling’s thumb brushed her tears away before retreating. This close, she could see that he regretted having to move away, but there was a hesitancy and restraint to his movements. He was being cautious around her, unsure how she would react to him and his touch now that she knew the truth. And honestly, she wasn’t sure either.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” she whispered as he withdrew back to his own seat once more. “Knowing that Marie is gone… I barely knew her for a few months, but it hurts so much. I… I can’t imagine not feeling that.”

A sorrowful smile flitted across his lips. “You are kind, Alina. And young. One day you will understand.”

She shook her head, still not able to comprehend it. And he seemed so certain that she would live a long time too. “Have you ever lost someone you couldn’t get over?” she asked, the words out of her mouth before she could think about them. “Someone who’s death you still felt, even though you knew better?”

Aleksander started at her question, not expecting it. For a moment, he became lost in thought, staring blankly at a spot before him. “I had a wife once…,” he told her. “A long time ago.”

With a flick of his wrist, shadow swarmed up from the ground beside him in a pillar and took the form of a woman. Alina blinked in surprise, marvelling at what she was seeing. Before her stood the shadowy form of a woman in perfect detail. She couldn’t distinguish colours or strands of hair, but she could see the emotion on her face. She had no idea that Aleksander could do this.

“Her name was Luda,” he murmured. “And I loved her with everything I had, but I knew that our time was short. I knew that from the start. A few centuries of watching everyone around me die had already taught me better. Yet with her, I found I couldn’t help it… Being Grisha extends your life. And the more powerful Grisha, the longer that life. But most only live a few decades longer than any otkazat'sya. At best, some live to see a decade or so more than a hundred years. And she hoped to find a way to extend that… but even then, I knew she could never be with me as long as she hoped. That her wish for a few hundred years was little more than a drop in a bucket to me.” He stared at her shadowy form for a moment, his hand reaching up as if to caress her cheek before falling back.

“Despite that knowledge, she was still the light in my life, my anchor. I decided I would at least take what time with her that I could. She was a Healer. And together, we found and trained young Grisha, much as we’re still doing here. But back then, all we had was a village - just a small village with houses and fields. No walls. No protection. Only an old church nearby if refuge was needed. When I confronted the King, asking for our kind to be left alone, his first target was the village. As I escaped his grasp, all of the men, women and children that I had taught and protected were slaughtered for no reason at all. My mother managed to get many of them to the church…”

“Did she… she wasn’t amongst the ones at the church, was she?” she asked gently.

“No…” his eyes flicked up to her. “But not because she was killed there. She knew that I would return to our home, so she went there instead. Maybe if she hadn’t, if she had gone to the church, she might have lived… But she wanted to protect me.”

With a wave of his hand, the woman dissipated, and an entire scene sprawled before her. There were now many figures around the room. Most of them had bows drawn on the central figure. His hair was slightly longer and partially done up, and his clothing style was different - older, but it was unmistakably Aleksander. He stood with his arms stretched out behind him, a man moving behind him with strange cuffs held apart by a short post. He looked desperate, something she’d never seen before. And before him, another solder held Luda; a knife pressed to her side. She watched as the shadows began to move. The man behind the shadowy Darkling cuffed his hands and kicked his legs out, so he fell to his knees. She couldn’t hear the words they spoke, but she could see the raw emotion on his face, even through the shadowy distortion. She watched as he begged, desperate and terrified. To no avail as the other solder plunged his dagger into the woman, and she crumpled to the ground. The shadowy form of Aleksander let out a silent, agonised cry.

“They said that their only order was to return with me alive…” his voice, though quiet, cut through the silence that had fallen, making her jump slightly and her eyes snap back to the real man before her. “That they didn’t need her. Mother was right, in the end. She was just mortal… and mortals die.”

It was then that she heard it. He had been so vulnerable with her in these moments, truly letting his guard down for her to see. And she heard it in his voice. Not pain, not sorrow or loss… but the resignation of a lonely man. Hopelessness. A man who was so desperately alone, he had accepted that pain and accepted that he would be lonely forever.

She reached out and placed her hand on his once more. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He flicked her a sad smile. “It was many years ago. Five hundred years is more than enough to dull the sorrow.”

“Was that… was that before you created the Fold?” she asked, pure curiosity getting to her now.

He nodded. “Immediately before. She was still alive when I broke free and killed the King’s men. I took her to the church, hoping there was a healer there. None of them had survived, and she passed away only moments later.” He looked at his empty glass, twisting it in the light. “My mother made me realise that we needed an army of our own to protect us. But back then, Grisha were makers and fixers, not fighters. So, I began looking through Morozova’s journals. I wanted to use Merzost to turn the King’s army into my own. They found us not long after, and I walked out to confront them.” He waved his hand once more, the shadowy figures that had faded away rose up once more, an entire battalion stood around the room while the shadowy Darkling stood before them, his arms out initially in surrender, but then shadows began to lick off his form as he began to speak. “I lost control…”

She watched as the shadows coming off the figure his past self suddenly exploded, rushing out behind him and expanding outwards, encasing the room entirely in darkness. Before her vision was taken by the shadows, she saw the look on the memory’s face. His expression was one of agony, as though the shadows spewing out his back were pulling his very soul with them.

With this much darkness surrounding her, she instinctually reacted, sunlight unfurling off her in waves and chasing the shadows back. When she was able to see the Darkling again, she could see that look on his face once more, the one that was almost awe. Like this was something he’d longed for his entire life. She wondered, for someone who was so entwined in shadows and darkness… He loved the sunlight.

Trying to hide her answering smile at the expression, Alina suddenly realised a discrepancy in the stories she’d been told. Aleksander said that he was telling her the truth, and if he was, then Baghra had definitely lied.

“Your mother said you did it on purpose,” she told him, half teasing.

“Of course she did,” he huffed.

“Mmm, she said you made it to be a weapon.”

“Well, I’ve certainly made plans for that since, but I definitely had no intentions of tearing the entire country in half at the time. I didn’t even think I was powerful enough to do such a thing, and I am very aware of the power I hold.” He smirked at her, and she shook her head, hiding her smile once more. “What other lies did my mother say?”

Alina’s nose scrunched as she tried to think back to what Baghra had told her. It had been a long night, and the details of the conversation were fading away. “Um… Oh! Did you really take a nobleman’s name?”

“Yes, at her suggestion, of course.”

“Right.” She frowned. Baghra had made it sound like it was all his idea. “I…”

“Yes?” His brows rose inquiringly.

“I always thought that mothers were supposed to be kind and love you unconditionally,” she said. It was the dream. The thing that all the children at the orphanage longed for. A part of her knew it wasn’t true, having heard whispers from children whose parents had been less than loving. But it was the ideal that they all wished they had. She had no memory of her mother, only that she had looked like her. “I thought that they were supposed to support their children, not…” She shrugged as she tried to think of the words. “Sabotage them and make them sound worse than they are.”

“Most parents, yes, but Baghra is not like other mothers. She’s too old and too shrewd. She selected my father purely for the sake of offspring and nothing else. And though we care for each other in our own way, it’s not what most would consider normal. We have to consider the times we’re in and the consequences of the years ahead.”

Alina nodded, pretending she understood. “So, not really the kind to show affection, then?”

Aleksander snorted. “Not with Baghra, no. You’ve been to her lessons. Believe me when I say she showed me as much love, if not less. But, as always, she taught me well.”

“What to lie, manipulate and look at people like chess pieces?”

He smirked. “You clearly have a high opinion of my mother,” he said sarcastically. “But yes, she taught me that as well… amongst other things.”

She shuddered, seeing the look in his eye. She got the impression that ‘other things’ were less than pleasant. And considering who he was, how long he’d been alive, what he could do…

A frown played at her lips as she considered just what a young Aleksander must have been through, being a Shadow Summoner in a world where Grisha were constantly hunted, with only a sharp mother who cared more for skill and thinking than affection. “It must have been hard,” she realised aloud.

“You get used to it quickly enough.” He took a sip of kvas, and she realised she’d entirely missed him pouring himself a new glass. It was his third, and she was only halfway through her own. Quickly, she threw the last of hers back, screwing up her face at the sudden rush of the taste she only just tolerated. When she looked back, she saw the Darkling barely suppressing a laugh. “We can get something else to drink next time.”

Her heart thrilled at his words. Next time. As if this would be something they would be doing often. And that both delighted and disturbed her. “I liked the champagne they served tonight. That was nice.”

This time, Aleksander’s laugh was hearty, the amusement in his eyes unrestrained. “You have expensive taste, Miss Starkov.” She couldn’t help but blush at the statement.

“Well, it’s the champagnes fault for costing more than kvas,” she muttered, just making him laugh more.

“Indeed. Though, I can assure you that this particular bottle of kvas was not cheap.” She smiled at him, unable to stop herself from reacting to his joy, but it was interrupted by a large yawn. “I should let you return to your rooms. You must be exhausted.”

“I think I could sleep for a week,” she told him. Just then, her stomach let out a loud rumble of protest. “And eat… We missed the dinner.”

“I should have ordered some food.” His brow furrowed, annoyed at himself for his lack of thinking. “I’ll get something sent to your rooms. Breakfast is better than nothing. But first, I’ll summon Fedyor.”

Alina nodded, having entirely forgotten by now that the Heartrender was supposed to join them after their talk to confirm everything. But it was his comment about breakfast that tripped her up the most. It made her glance towards the windows, and she was startled to realise that she could see the sun beginning to rise over the landscape, soft purple hues beginning to lighten the sky. Outside, a couple of birds began their morning call.

Oh… They had talked all night.

As she stared out the window, the Darkling left the room and opened the door of the war room, where an Oprichniki was stationed nearby and called them over, giving them some orders in hushed tones before closing the door and returning to her.

“It’s dawn,” she pointed out. “Isn’t it a little mean waking him up this early? After the excitement of last night, I’d imagine he’d want to sleep in and cuddle with Ivan.”

“I’d imagine that with the excitement of last night, Fedyor, Ivan, and many others will still be awake.” There was a bitterness to his voice that left no room to take his meaning any other way. He seemed to suddenly pause as if he’d just remembered something. “Many of them are likely searching for you. I was so wrapped up in our conversation I forgot to inform anyone you’d been found. Still, they will be looking for the three criminals who tried to kidnap you, and I want them found.”

With a start, she remembered the rushed, worried words he’d spoken to her when she was still drowsy from sleep. That there had been a kidnapping as well as an assassination attempt.

She blew out a gust of air that made the loose strands of her hair fly up. “It was all happening last night, wasn’t it?”

He smirked. “Yes, a very eventful night.”

“We should hold more lavish parties for murder and intrigue.” She smiled at him teasingly.

Aleksander groaned. “I don’t think that the coffers or my sanity could handle it. You’ll be lucky if you’re not walking around with a full armed escort for the rest of your life.”

She pulled a face at that. “Nah-uh. No, thank you.”

“I will be assigning you at least one guard full time for the foreseeable future,” he informed her sternly. “After the events of tonight, it would be foolish and unseemly not to. The King will expect to have,” his lip suddenly curled in disgust, “his most valuable asset under protection after such monumental slips in security.” He shook his head. “Hundreds of years, and we’ve never had one security breach. Whoever those rogues were, at least one of them must be incredibly clever… yet oh so stupid to attempt such a thing.”

Before either of them could say any more, before Alina could protest the idea of having someone following her around everywhere, there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” he called.

“Fedyor, moi Soverenyi,” came the muffled reply. Alina’s brows rose. That was quick. She’d assumed that if they were searching the palace, it would have been longer to hunt him down.

“Enter.” There was a moment’s hesitation before the door opened, and the familiar, happy face of Fedyor slipped inside. Though, he looked tired and less jovial than normal.

“Ah, Fedyor, thank you,” the Darkling said.

As Fedyor approached, he caught sight of Alina, and relief and joy were stark on his face once more. “Alina!” he said happily. “Thank the Saints. You are safe and well!” Alina shot him a small smile.

“Yes. In my relief, I quite forgot to inform anyone that Ms Starkov has been found. If you could spread the word when you leave, that will be most appreciated.”

“Yes, General.” He nodded. “I was actually on my way to find you, Sir. We have news.”

“Of?”

“Nina Zenik, Sir.”

Alexander sat up a little straighter. “Speak.”

“She was abducted by Fjerdans. Put on a ship with other Grisha captives, bound for the Ice Court.”

“Someone must have given her up.” He considered this for a moment. “Zlatan?”

“Well, they have a witch hunter in their ranks. Matthias Helvar. He has been clever in tracking Grisha. I want him dead as much as I want her back alive.”

“Where are they now?”

“They hit a storm front. We lost track of the ship after that.”

Aleksander’s face hardened. “Send a team to the Western Coast. They will go as far North as they can, Arkesk if they can make it. Get them to bring back any Grisha they find, and barring that… bring me one of theirs.”

“Yes, General. Ivan and I won’t fail you.”

“I have no doubt, but I only need you to form a team, Fedyor. I will be in need of yours and Ivan’s assistance in the days to come for a hunt or two of my own.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“W-who’s Nina?” Alina asked, unsure if he’d even tell her.

“One of my spies,” he informed her. “I had sent her to investigate a man going by ‘the Conductor’, who was smuggling Grisha out of Ravka and into the West. Through the Fold by some unknown means. The same man who made an attempt on your life, it seems. Paid out by General Zlatan.”

Alina closed her eyes. She didn’t need to know why someone would try and kill her. Her powers gave people hope. That was enough. And from what she’d heard of General Zlatan, the Fold being torn down would go against his campaign to secede. Instead, another thing stuck in her mind. Something that she’d admittedly wished she could have done back when she first arrived. Something she’d even asked about.

“He’s smuggling Grisha away from here?”

“He was,” he answered darkly. Alina shuddered and tried not to think about it.

“But why?”

“That’s one of the things Nina was trying to find out. Many parents are known to take their children and flee before they can be brought to safety. Often leading them to cross over the borders and directly into trouble.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed as she wondered why parents would flee with their children if it meant they wound up in danger. Something about it didn’t sit right with her.

“We will do all we can to get Nina back. And, with luck, apprehend this… Matthias Halvar,” the Darkling said. “But now, for what I called you here for, Fedyor. I have told Alina some things that she doesn’t quite believe. Normally, I would have called Ivan to settle this, but she doesn’t trust your husband not to side with me, no matter what the truth is.”

“Yes, that sounds like something that Ivan would do.”

“See!” she insisted. Feydor shot her a wink.

“So, am I to tell her the truth or what you want?” he asked teasingly.

“Fedyor!” she admonished playfully, earning a cheeky grin in return.

The Darkling rolled his eyes. “The truth, please, Fedyor.”

“Yes, General.” His grin was still wide as he dipped his head.

Aleksander turned back to face her, holding her eye in earnest. “Alina, I swear that everything I have told you this night has been honest and true. Every word I have spoken has been the truth. And I will do my best to keep telling you the truth, and to honour our agreement, so long as you do so as well.”

The intensity in his eyes was enough to take her breath away, and Alina swallowed before turning to look at Fedyor with wide eyes. His eyes looked as wide as hers probably did, though unaware of the context, he was surprised by the General’s words.

He turned to her and nodded. “He is telling the truth.”

A relieved breath rushed out of her, and her body sagged as if letting go of tension she didn’t even know she was holding. This entire night had been… overwhelming. But it was at least a relief to know that Aleksander had been speaking the truth. Of course, that didn’t mean that he hadn’t neglected to tell her things. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe he hadn’t, but she decided to let it be, hoping she could pry other truths from him later. She looked back up to him with a slight smile.

“See,” he said, parroting her earlier jest back at her. Her smile grew. “Thank you, Feydor.”

“You’re welcome, General.” He gave him a slight bow before waiting to be dismissed. But instead, the Darkling just looked him up and down before his eyes flitted back to Alina.

“Oh, and Feydor. One more thing.” The Heartrender stood to attention once more, awaiting his orders. “Starting from now, you are assigned to Alina as her personal Heartrender.” Both Fedyor and Alina wore twin expressions of shock, but Aleksander hardly seemed to notice. “Alina has stated that you are someone here that she trusts above others. I can think of no one better to protect and serve our Sun Summoner.”

“I am honoured, moi Soverenyi,” he said, bowing low. “Sankta Alina.” He bowed to her as well, and she shot him a tight smile, trying to hide her grimace about being called a saint. Seeing everyone bow to her during her demonstration had been thrilling, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it, especially when most Saint’s stories ended in a grisly death. “I am glad to see that you are well. I will inform the others of this.”

“Please do,” the Darkling told him. “Make sure you assemble the best teams you can to hunt down Nina and a replacement team for the three Ketterdam criminals. And send them out this morning. I want them all found. We must have the best head start we can. Then and Ivan are to rest. I need the two of you at your best for what’s to come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Fedyor bowed once more before departing, leaving the two of them alone once more. Silence fell over them, so thick it was almost a tangible thing. Alina’s eyes were stuck on the door her friend had left through, but she could feel the Darkling’s eyes on her, studying her.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Aleksander pushed himself from his chair, looking down at her. “This is not a trust I give easily, Alina,” he told her. “In fact, for rather obvious reasons, I never trust anyone.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you either.”

He smirked wryly at her, holding his hand out to help her to her feet. “Smart. But, I trust that you can at least keep what you know a secret.”

She nodded in reply as she was drawn up, now looking up at him, nearly chest to chest. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He drew closer to her as if pulled by a string, and for a moment, she thought that he might kiss her, but he quickly reeled back, walking towards the door. “We should get you to your room,” he said quickly. “I’ll have an Oprichniki escort you.”

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Someone tried to murder you tonight, and three others tried to kidnap you, and you’re arguing security?” He arched an eyebrow at her. He led her out of the Parlor and to the door out of his chambers.

“I just want to stumble back into my room, take off this stupid kefta, maybe eat something and sleep. Preferably without seeing anyone on the way.” She was grumbling like a petulant child, and she knew it. It made him smirk in amusement, which only made her grumble more.

He rolled his eyes at her. “I suppose I can allow this one trip. It is only just down the hall, after all. The Palace has been thoroughly swept, especially your room. There are guards outside, and with any luck, some servants should have delivered you some breakfast by now. And, come tomorrow, Fedyor will be on your detail, no exceptions.”

“Yes, Sir,” she joked.

“None of that,” he told her. There was no mirth or teasing in his voice, completely serious as he loomed over her. “You are the only one here who is my match and equal. You are the Sun Summoner, and after tonight, everyone will treat you with the respect and deference you are owed.” Alina’s breath caught in her throat as she stared up into his coal back eyes. All she could do was nod in response. “Good night, Alina,” he murmured.

“Good night, Aleksander.”

Her response was barely a breath. And with one last look into his ancient eyes, she slipped out the door into the corridor, her heart pounding like she’d spent the night in the training grounds.

She couldn’t deny that despite the danger and the truths she now knew, she longed for the terrible and ancient man on the other side of the door. She could scarcely believe what she’d heard and what she’d agreed to do…

What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

Author Note:

I fully believe that with the time he’s had to practice, the Darkling can do way more with his shadows than what we see. I love the idea that he can manipulate them to take on different shapes and forms or making them solid (similar to how he does with the Cut but with other methods), like creating bonds.

Also, I fully believe that Show!Baghra is more manipulative and toxic than she was in the books (especially if you combine the two versions). You can’t convince me otherwise.

Chapter Index | First Chapter | << Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

#Light Casts a Shadow #Shadow and Bone #Darklina

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avembrum · 4 years ago

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The Fall of The Bird (Avengers Fanfic Prologue)

A/N: Hello! I am a new writer, so if there are things/mistakes anyone notices please kindly let me know. I’ve had the Idea for this character and this story for a long time, and I’m finally coming around to bringing her story to life. I’m posting this first, and then I will make another post that has more information about the character herself and who her face claim is. I really hope people enjoy this and follow along with her story and come to love the character as much as I do!

-Bird - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wordcount: 4.1k

Grand Est, France 2011

Birds perched on a tree, sitting close together to try and absorb each other's warmth. The snow covering their feathers like a second skin. And a few hundred yards in front of them, was a small building. But little did the small birds know what happened inside of the seemingly abandoned area. It was tiny, the size of a small family home, and completely concrete and grey. It almost looked like it was supposed to be a doomsday bunker.

The birds were confused, there hadn't been anyone to the bunker for as long as they had been there. But recently, about a few months ago, a few Jeep’s pulled in, and men in black uniforms filed out of the vehicles. They carried equipment inside. Provisions, weapons, and a strange machine.

Of course, the birds would have no idea the machine would be. But I can tell you what the machine looked like. The first two pieces looked the same. Two poles, thick in width -maybe about 12 inches- and tall in height, thought that looked like it could be adjusted. At one end of each pole seemed to be a small platform that could enable them to stand upright, and on the other end seemed to be metal boxes, possibly to store the wires for whatever the machine was.

They only carried in two other things that seemed to be related to the machine, though those were in cases that took two men to carry each. So the little birds couldn’t see what they were.

The birds enjoyed watching the men. They always had men standing around the outside of the building, holding large guns, and scanning the perimeter expertly. There was no way of telling what was happening inside, no windows were on the building, but they had transported a copious amount of computers to the building. So they can’t just be there for a vacation.

Every few days men would pile into the Jeeps quickly, like they were being sent out on a mission. But they never seemed to be triumphant when they came back. Whatever they had been after each time must have gotten away.

By now it had just hit the three month mark, and the sun was starting to set. The beautiful colors falling over the somewhat untouched French forest. It was peaceful, and serene.

But the peacefulness was interrupted when their Jeep’s pulled in through the snow once again, the now familiar logo of some type of red skull with tentacles gleaming in the light.

This time was different than the last times the Jeep’s had pulled in though. They were going faster, with a purpose.

When they stopped, not a millisecond was spared before all doors on both Jeeps were flung open, and the soldiers poured out, though they returned with less men than they had left with yet again.

The guard who had exited the drivers side of the Jeep’s closest to the building had his lips curled into a smirk. He relished in the sounds of the grunting and struggling coming from the other Jeep. His smirk only grew when the person the noises belonged to, was led around to his side of the Jeep.

Her hands were bound behind her back, her snarl only became more intense than it had previously been when her eyes met the guard’s. He stepped closer, his steps confident but lazy, as well as how he was holding his rifle.

“We finally caged the little bird,” Said the man, an air of victory around the young man as he stepped closer to the girl, who seemed to be a couple years younger. He lowered his eyes to her level, the guard holding her being sure to keep a tight grip on her arms. “Guess you were wrong, we did get you.” He mocked, his head tilting.

His blue eyes seemed to gleam, while the girl’s one green and one blue ones might as well have been red with anger and annoyance. It only took a second. The girl reeled her head back before connecting her forehead with his nose. Enough force being given to make him yell and stumble back. His left hand left the underside of the barrel of his gun, and instead flew up to cup his bleeding nose. His head tilted back and his eyes shut tightly.

The other guards all flinch, raising their guns to the girl, but she seemed to have no intention to move. She let out a huff through her nose and straightened her back, keeping her shoulders back. Her scowl never left though.

The man brought his hand away from his nose and looked down to his glove clad hand, now soaked with blood that still dripped from his crooked nose. “You little bitch-“ He seethed, but didn’t continue the sentence any further before he was dropping his gun, the strap around his chest letting it fall to his side.

He stepped toward the girl, this time his paces held no air of confidence, nor victory. Just hatred. His hand went to her shoulder, shoving her front half down to connect with his risen knee. The guard that had been holding the girl quickly let go. The impact of his leg sent her into the Jeep. Her head hit it with a harsh thud before her legs gave out and she slid down.

Her nose was bleeding like his, but not broken. She had her eyes shut tightly as she let her body lean to the left and tipped her head forward to spit out the blood from her busted lip and bitten tongue.

She took a few labored breaths, but they just sounded more like grunts as she leaned back against the vehicle. Her eyes opened to look up to the man, he still had no victorious smile, just heaving breaths and flared nostrils that hurt his face.

The girl rose a brow at him, a few stray dark hairs falling from their ponytail. “You still hit like a little bitch, Harvey.” She mumbled hoarsely with a small lopsided smirk, but there was nothing but honesty behind her words.

The guard -Harvey- growled. “Get her up!” He barked to the guard next to him, who wasted no time in lifting her up by her arms. She grunted, her head dipping down as she tried to make the ground seem like it was spinning.

Before she knew it another blow was being sent to her gut, but she was able to tell it was by a fist. A wheeze escaped her as she doubled over, probably only still on her feet because of the person holding her.

Suddenly a voice cut through the air, it was high pitched- young. “Stop hurting her!” The girl's head snapped up, meeting the familiar eyes of the little boy being held by another Hydra guard. He must have only just been led around to this side of the cars.

Harvey’s grin returned, showing his bloodstained teeth. “Oh, stop hurting your little friend?” He asked tauntingly. The young boy's terrified eyes stayed wide, but he said nothing. Harvey laughed, and moved his hand toward the girls, grabbing her ponytail and yanking her head back harshly so she was standing straight.

Her teeth bared into a snarl, huffing breaths through her grinding teeth while looking at Harvey. But his eyes were fixed on the little boy’s. “She’s the reason you’re in this whole mess anyways kid,” Harvey turned his eyes to her, and took a moment to appreciate her utterly pissed off expression. “If it weren’t for her, you would have had a painless and easy death months ago.” He turned his head back to the child. “But now you’re in this shit.”

One of the men from the side finally spoke up. ��Boss, they want her inside.” Harvey let out an exasperated breath. “Fine.” He snarled, releasing the girl’s dark hair. “Get them in.”

The squadron all nodded and moved towards the door. The girl seemed too tired to be able to fight back as she was led, but the boy only went kicking and screaming.

Harvey stayed back, watching as his team took the two to the door. His head snapped towards the tree line of the forest hearing a sound.

The two birds nuzzled close together, perched on their branch in front of the bunker. The snow covering them like it was a second skin, but that was okay. They nuzzled closer together, observing the forest in front of them. The bullet came fast, shot with pinpoint accuracy to get both birds in the neck.

They fell off of the perch. Into the snowy ground below them, the flakes clinging to them like a second skin. And there was no warmth from them anymore. Only the warmth of their blood soaking the cold snow under them. Staining the once pure white with red.

Harvey only tilted his chin back as he holstered his hand gun, and made his way inside the building.

<><>

Inside of the bunker was just as bland as the outside, except now there were bright white lights from the ceiling flashing onto The girl’s pale and sweaty skin.

The boy had stopped struggling, his yelling now reduced to scared whimpering. He looked over his shoulder to the girl, who attempted to send him a reassuring smile, but with the swelling in her lip and ache that felt like it was consuming her entire body, it came out as more of a grimace.

She only seemed to be able to regain full control of her muscles when they started moving the boy to a different room, and continued taking her down the hall.

“Hey!” She snapped, trying to pull from the man’s hands. “Stop! Where are you taking him!? Stop- let me go!” She growled. “Asshat, if you don’t let me the hell go I’ll break something a lot worse than your nose!” She yelled, her words now directed at the man restraining her.

She couldn’t do it, the boy yelled for her. Pleaded to her. Begged her, to help him. But she couldn’t. She clenched her jaw and tried one more time to pull away as she watched the door to the room close, but she couldn't.

I should be able to, She thought angrily. I have enhanced strength for Christ’s sake! She should be able to do this, and she was tearing herself apart for not being able to.

She had kept herself, and the boy, hidden from Hydra for four months. She was supposed to kill him. But she couldn’t. She had been able to kill everyone else she’d been tasked with. But this time they had tasked her to abduct and execute a nine year old boy, all because of who his father was. And when she wasn’t able to, she killed the rest of her team, took him, and ran.

She had killed the person she believed she was in love with to keep the boy safe, and now it was going to be for nothing. And in her mind, it was her fault.

Her bones felt like they were a million pounds. When they had finally gotten her in the fight a few hours ago, Harvey had stuck a needle in her neck, and injected her with something. But it made her groggy, and she wasn’t able to use her abilities. Everything felt slightly blurry.

One of the guards opened a door at the end of the hall, bringing her out of her guilty thoughts. Her eyes snapped to every inch of the room, scanning anything they could take in. Computers lined one of the walls, on them were maps of the area and cities, and footage from street and shop security cameras. So this is where they’ve been tracking us, she thought.

That thought seemed to be thrown into a trash bin of unimportance as her eyes landed on the metal table in the middle of the room, leather straps for arms, legs, and for someone’s neck attached to the surface.

The girl’s eyes widened. “No.” Her eyes peeled themselves front the table when a voice came to her ears. “Subject B24.” His accent was thick German, and she recognized him, only barely, he was one of the doctors at the Hydra base she lived at for most of her life. He lifted his head from the clipboard in his hands, and a smile came onto his lips. “Jay, it’s good to see your face again.” He shook his head. “My apologies, I hear you do not go by that name anymore. What is it you call yourself now? Ah, Raven.”

Memories suddenly flooded to the girl's mind, making tears gloss her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Jay grunted as she leaned against the wall of the cave. It wasn't an ideal shelter, it was damp inside, and not exactly warm, and small. She had to crouch to walk inside, and it was only big enough for her to sit with her back to the wall and stretch her legs out before her toes touched the other side.

The boy beside her stayed silent. His eyes wide as he stared down at his shoes. He had just been taken from his home by a small group of strange people and tied to a chair. The girl sitting next to him, only a couple of hours ago had a gun pointed to his temple.

But she didn’t kill him. She had turned and used the bullets meant for him to kill the group that was with her and get him out. They had been chased when they tried to leave town, and after it all they ended here.

The boy's eyes looked at the girl as she hissed in pain. She was leaned over her leg, looking at her thigh with a grimace. The boy wanted to ask what was wrong, but he stopped when the girl took a deep breath and started to push her fingers into the flesh of her thigh.

His eyes widened, now realizing her leg was wounded, and she was trying to get something out of it. It didn’t take long, it must not have been that far in there, before she pulled her hand away, a small shiny -blood coated- bullet between her thumb and forefinger.

She threw the bullet to the other side of the cave and leaned her head back, closing her eyes while letting out a deep sigh. The boy gulped, realizing he could have been the one to get shot.

They sat in silence for a while. And in that time the girl had torn some of her shirt and tied it just above the bullet wound on her thigh.

The child didn’t like the silence, so he spoke. “What’s that?” He asked, grabbing the girl’s attention. He pointed to the necklace that rested against her chest when she made a face like she didn’t know what he was talking about.

Her eye landed on the necklace, and she gently picked it up in her fingers. “A person very close to me made it for me.” She answered quietly.

“Like a present?” The boy asked, tilting his head to the right, and scooting slightly to look at her.

The girl let out a small chuckle, though there seemed to be little humor behind it. “Sort of.”

The boy nodded and looked back down to his dirty sneakers. After a moment another question came to mind. “What’s your name?” He asked.

The girl thought for a moment. She didn’t actually have a real name, or if she did she didn’t know it. The guards and scientists had always called her by her subject number. There was one name that had been given to her though. Her… lover, had given it to her when they were young, and it had kind of just stuck through the years.

But everything he believed in was Hydra, and she didn’t know how well she could trust either him, or Hydra anymore. “Jay.” She finally answered. Deciding that that name would be easier for the kid to remember than her numbers.

“Like… blue jay? Is that why you have the bird necklace?” He asked, pointing again to the pendant in her fingers.

A sad smile came to the girl’s lips as she nodded to him. “Yeah.”

The boy frowned. “But blue jays are mean.” He said simply, catching the girl across from him off guard slightly.

“They’re… what?” She asked, letting go of her pendant and leaning forward, her uninjured leg bending to rest her arm on.

“Blue jays are meanies.” He said flatly. “Me and my grandma watch them through the window. They fight with other birds, and steal their food. They’re mean. But you’re not.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she chuckled, actually finding something humorous now. “Alright then,” She tilted her head up at him. “What kind of a bird am I?”

The boy thought for a moment, looking at her intently, only making the corner of the girl’s mouth quirk a little more.

The kid smiled when he seemed to get it. “A raven!” The girl raised a brow, wanting him to explain. “They're bigger than a lot of other birds, and you were a lot stronger than those guys from before, and they're not mean, but they attack if someone gets close to their nest.”

The dark haired girl tilted her head. “How do you know all that?” She asked.

The boy shrugged, looking down at the ground once more. “My tutor gave me a book about them once, I just remembered it.”

The girl smiled. “Alright.” The boy snapped his head to attention. “Raven it is.”

He grinned, his little white teeth almost blinding her. He stuck out his hand. “Hi Raven, I’m Ivan.”

Raven smiled back. “Hi Ivan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Raven was bought from her thoughts by the sound of the doctor’s clipboard being set down. “No answer? That’s alright. We don’t need one to get started.”

Her eyes widened as the doctor nodded to the guard holding her, and he started moving to the table. “Wait! What are you doing? Stop!” She hated begging, but her emotions felt like they were overflowing, and her body felt like it was about to fall apart. And she really, really, hated doctors appointments.

The guard uncuffed her, and even if she felt like she had enough strength to fight back, they didn’t give her enough time before another guard lifted her onto the table and they got to work on the buckles of the restraints.

Her chest heaved as she watched what people around her were doing, but her line of sight was cut off as the doctor stood in front of her with a sweet smile that she knew was a lie. He even looked like your typical evil doctor, with the little circle glasses, white lab coat, balled head and wrinkles.

The doctor started to work on the restraint that would go around her throat. “You are one of Hydra’s best Agent’s Jay. It would be a waste to get rid of that talent just because you’ve lost your loyalty, but lucky for you,” His smile widened. “We have ways of forcing you to remember who your loyalty lies to.”

When he tried to slip the leather through the metal buckle, Raven lifted her head and spat in his face. He retracted, a disgusted expression on his face as he wiped the saliva off of the lens of his glasses and his cheek.

Raven glared at him, her chest heaving. “My name’s Raven, asshole.” Soon her head was slammed back onto the table. She groaned and when she opened her eyes she was met by Harvey’s smirk once again. He must have wiped the blood from his face, because most of it was gone now, that didn’t get rid of the ugly crook on the bridge of his nose he now had.

Harvey held her head down while he buckled the leather strap over her neck. Raven didn’t look at him, she kept her eyes on the ceiling. She grunted had Harvey’s hand grabbed her jaw, forcing her head to turn to him. “I’ll enjoy this, sweetheart.” He smiled, patted her cheek, and stepped away.

Raven’s eyes widened, her mind started running at the thought of what was about to happen. Though it couldn’t have been much worse from anything else they had done to her in the past.

“Jay,” She heard the doctor speak. She turned her head to see him opening one of two silver cases set on one of the tables that held some of the many computer monitors. “I’m sure you are aware of the Winter Soldier, no?”

It all clicked as soon as he motioned for someone stronger to pick up whatever was in the case.

She knew who the Winter Soldier was, and how they kept him in line. Brainwashing. She had seen it happen once, and hated every second of it. She let her eyes linger on one of the headgear pieces only for a moment before looking to the pole that was slightly behind her. There was one on each side of the table. This machine looked different than the one they had used on him.

“Now, as you can see, we are not in one of our better facilities,” The doctor explained as the men who had grabbed the piece from the case started to attach it to the larger part at the end of the pole. “So we were only able to transport one of our earlier models, but it will still do its job nicely.”

Raven got herself together, replacing her terrified expression with another glare. “So, what? You put my brain in a blender. Make me a zombie like the One Armed Slave, and freeze me for a few years at a time and pull me out whenever you need someone killed?”

The doctor chuckled. “We have programmed this one a little better than the Asset’s has been. Though I will give them credit, it is good work for such an early time.” He smiled, like this was an amusing conversation between a friend.

Raven felt her panic start to rise as they began attaching the second piece on the other side. “And Ivan-the kid, what will you do with him?” She demanded.

This time Harvey spoke up from where he stood with his arms crossed. “We’re finishing the job you couldn’t.” He grinned.

Raven’s eyes grew. “No, no you can’t do this!” She pulled at the restraints. “He’s just a kid! You can’t do this!” She screamed.

Harvey took a couple steps closer. “Oh we’ve already started.”

Raven opened her mouth to shout back, but wasn’t able to, because a rubber mouth guard was being shoved between her lips, and the two sides of the machine were being lowered to the height of the table.

Raven’s lungs and heart felt like they would pop at the rate they were working. Sweat beaded from her hairline and neck -well, from everywhere-, more tears started to build up in her eyes.

She didn’t want to forget.

She didn’t want to forget everything that she had gone through. No matter how traumatic or painful, it built who she was. And she didn’t give a damn if it sounded cocky, but she was one of the fucking strongest Hydra had created, and not because she was one of the only who’s enhancement trials had actually worked, but because she had willpower and determination like no one else.

She didn’t want to forget all the friends she had watched die during experimentations. Or the teammates she had lost during missions. She didn’t want to forget the person she had fallen in love with. She didn’t want to forget any of them, and she especially didn’t want to forget that she had finally found out the people she had been forking for her entire life were on the wrong side.

But it was too late. The machine was set over her face, the cool metal on the right side covering her cheek and eye, the other side only covering a cheek.

Her ears were ringing, and the tears had started falling, but not for her. From the next room over, she could hear Ivan scream, before a gunshot ran through the building and the screams were silenced.

The doctor nodded to everyone else in the room before turning on the machine.

And then the screams were for her own pain.

<><><>

Other than noises of the machine and Raven’s muffled screams. Til’ one of the the scientists at their computer turned to the others. “We have a chopper coming! About 10 klicks northwest.”

“Dammit.”

#marvel #mcu #original character #captain america #chris evans #winter soldier #sebastian stan #black widow #scarlet johansson #ironman #robert downy jr #hawkeye #jeremy renner #hulk #mark ruffalo #thor #chris hemsworth

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midnightrooftops · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Blame it on the Kids

Drabble #2

Story here

Summery: Shouta talks with All Might. Drabble.

Characters: Shouta Aizawa (Eraserhead), Yagi Toshinori (All Might)

MANGA SPOILERS: ch. 303 (well past season 4 of the anime) post-war arc

TW: mention/referenced abuse, mention/reference character death, canon-typical violence, PTSD, amputation, hospitals, panic/anxiety

“Oh, this is a cool one,” Mic says, holding out his phone for Shouta to see. “I think this is what Rumi is getting.”

Aizawa is ignoring him as he looks over the file in front of him.

“She’s getting an arm, not a leg.”

“Yeah, but I think this is the designer.” Mic goes back to browsing. “You think about that fake eye yet?”

“I’m not becoming a cyborg,” Aizawa says, too tired to put any malice in his voice. He rubs his eye from the mention of it and holds back a flinch at the image he sees. He’s getting used to blinking and seeing the fight, really, he is. It’s annoying as hell, though.

“But it’d be so cool,” Mic continues. “Matching glowing eyes. Tracking system to lock on your prey.”

“And yet, I still wouldn’t be able to see 3D movies,” Aizawa deadpans. He’s grateful for Mic, though. The first few days were tough, but Hizashi has gotten better about downplaying it all and Shouta is thankful for it. He can handle losing a leg and an eye. He can. But he didn’t have to weep about it.

“You don’t even go to movies,” Mic says and he’s back on his phone again.

There’s a soft knock on the door, so soft it doesn’t even register to Aizawa until he hears Mic get up.

“Hey there big guy,” he says in his friendly DJ voice. It’s still softer than normal but Aizawa owes that to it being a hospital more than Mic’s sense of comfort for his friend.

“Hello Hizashi,” All Might says and Aizawa looks up and past the curtain to see the skeleton of the man in the door frame. “Could I have a moment with Aizawa?”

“More secrets?” Mic presses but he’s only teasing the old man. All Might, for his worth, looks ashamed by it. Mic laughs, pats him on the shoulder and offers Shouta a wave. “I’m off to refresh the playlist,” he says. “Text me if you want anything from the cafeteria.”

“Thanks,” Aizawa says and watches Mic leave.

All Might closes the door. Not all the way, but enough to imply privacy. He shuffles slowly across the room to the chair next to Aizawa’s bed and sits gingerly.

“When are you getting out?” All Might asks.

“Tomorrow,” Aizawa says, pushing the papers back into the manilla folder.

All Might nods. “They expect Midoriya can leave by the end of the week.”

“That’s good.”

“Indeed.”

The silence settles between them. Aizawa let’s it.

“He hates the hospital,” All Might says and Aizawa almost lets out a real laugh. Of course he does. The poor kid spent more of his first year of high school in the hospital than actual classes. But the reason why that’s the case dries up Shouta’s amusement.

“He doesn’t say that, of course,” All Might continues. “He wouldn’t talk back to a nurse or doctor. He’s not like me. I fought them tooth and nail any time I ended up here.” A smile creeps onto his face. “No, but I can tell. He gets anxious as soon as he has energy back in his body. He’s desperate to leave, even now. After telling you, I could see how eager he was to go home.”

“Was it his decision?” Aizawa asks, knowing why All Might has come.

“Yes.” All Might looks at Aizawa and his eyes are heavy but honest. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“It’s a big responsibility.” It’s an excuse.

“Too much for a kid,” Aizawa says.

All Might nods. For his worth, he seems to sincerely agree. “In my retirement, I’m beginning to think it’s too much for anyone to bear.”

Aizawa sees the way his shoulders hunch, the way his spine, even through the suit, is still visible. He sees the skin pulling at the man’s face and hears the rattle of blood in his breath. For all the times All Might has been in his natural form around Aizawa, he never wanted to see the hero. It was a painful sight.

He thinks, for all Shouta’s criticism, he can agree with that. Which begs the question…

“Why him?”

Why Midoriya? Granted, he knew now he knew nothing of the kid. He’s been pouring through Midoriya’s records, trying to figure him out, trying to make sense of what he was just told.

A smile crosses All Might’s face and his eyes aren’t looking at anything in the present anymore, they’re seeing the past.

“He asked me, once, if a quirkless kid could be a hero. And for all my honor and duty, I told him no.”

Quirkless? Quirkless?!

“And then, when a villain was attacking his friend and no other heroes, including myself, could step up to save him, Midoriya ran straight into the fight.”

Aizawa knows about the sludge monster incident. Mostly from Bakaugou’s file but he knew Midoriya was involved. Jumping in without permission. It was a red mark against the kid.

But not in the version All Might told.

“Put simply, that boy reminded me why I was a hero. He has that power inside him, the one we can’t teach, the one that has nothing to do with One For All.”

Aizawa knows what he’s talking about. Usually, it’s the reason why Midoriya is the problem child of the problem class. But it’s a spirit he’s seen in the best heroes.

“I know you don’t agree,” All Might says. “I thought All For One was dead. I thought he had more time. Time to grow and develop...” All Might bows his head. “It’s no excuse.”

It’s not, but it explains some things.

“You said he was quirkless?”

All Might nods. “I should think that’s his part to tell,” he says and again, Aizawa can agree with that.

But…

Damn. Midoriya being quirkless makes sense. Aizawa remembers the beginning of the year. He remembered the entrance exam.

Midoriya wasn’t a lazy kid. He wasn’t just overusing his quirk to get attention or try to impress people, like Shouta originally assumed. He literally had no control.

“Who else knows?” All Might looks confused and Aizawa supposes this was one of the things he missed in the discussion earlier.

“Nedzu,” he says and Aizawa has to hold back a groan. Of course he did. At least All Might wasn’t the only one at the school to blame. “Chiyo. Mirai did. Detective Tsukauchi and young Bakugou.”

Aizawa nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Bakugou?”

“He’s been helping Midoriya train,” All Might says and… yeah. That makes a lot of sense. Aizawa can probably put a date on exactly when Bakugou learned.

“The after-hours fight?”

All Might nods and there’s a smile in his eyes.

Of course.

“He respects you,” All Might says. “It’s one of the reasons why he didn’t tell you. Not just because I asked him to keep my secret, but I suspect he didn’t want to influence how you saw him. From my time knowing him, he hasn’t shown the least interest in fame or admiration. He wants to be the best, but not for the title. He wouldn’t want you to judge him based on my quirk.”

“He’s going to have serious issues,” Aizawa says and All Might coughs, spitting blood. Aizawa doesn’t let go of his glare. “You gave a quirkless child the perhaps the most powerful quirk in the world and asked him to carry on your legacy. These kids are under enough pressure at school.”

All Might had the good sense to look ashamed but then he smiled.

“I know it’s unfair to ask it of Midoriya,” he says. “And, to be truthful, part of keeping the quirk a secret is so that he doesn’t have to carry on my legacy.” All Might’s eyes twinkle and Aizawa doesn’t know if it’s tears or just how he looks when he’s inspired. He’d believe either. “When I gifted young Midoriya my quirk, it was to give a quirkless child a chance to achieve his dreams. He was never supposed to face All For One. I thought I had ended that monster. On my life, I thought he was gone.”

It was the closest to hatred Aizawa had ever seen from All Might. The tone of his voice, while still constrained, seethed something Aizawa never heard from the hero. He couldn't tell if it was directed at the villain or the hero himself.

Shouta sighs, his head pounding with this new information. Not just that Midoriya was supposed to face this horrible threat but that Bakugou knew about it and that, perhaps, some of the other students. He wasn’t even focusing on Todoroki yet and all the news about his life out there.

“It’s not my business,” he says.

“I’m respecting Midoriya’s wishes,” All Might says. “He wants you to know. And I’m glad you do. Without you, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened to him.”

What would’ve happened to Midoriya? It was Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki who had saved Aizawa in the fight. For all the pro heroes there that day, those three showed up and beat the villain back. He could scold them. But when had that worked before? And, as he was currently down a leg and eye, he couldn’t fault them.

Even when it was Midoriya who, after identifying the threat, had run and led the villain away from civilians. While he could scold Midoriya for returning to the fight, Aizawa would be dead if the boy hadn’t returned. How do you explain that to an up-and-coming hero sworn to protect others?

Even so, all three of them had gotten so close to unlucky. That’s what it was, really. He could preach all he wanted about talent and skill. But in the end, sometimes it was pure luck. Sometimes, it was just him who got picked up over another hero and that’s how he’d survive. Sometimes it’s self-sacrifice, sometimes it’s just luck. Sometimes he thinks-

“Aizawa?”

Shouto looked up, unaware how long had passed since their last exchange. He couldn’t remember the last thing they spoke about.

“I suppose I should let you rest.” All Might moves to leave.

“All Might,” Aizawa says, then corrects himself. “Toshinori. Thank you for telling me. I’ll teach him everything I know.”

He doesn’t think he sounds desperate, he hopes he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast. He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly so upset.

But All Might, Toshinori, gives him a small, soft and warm smile and nods.

“I wouldn’t trust him to anyone else,” All Might, former number one hero, says. He leaves the room.

Aizawa doesn’t know why the room is spinning. He doesn’t hear when Hizachi comes back. He hears his ridiculous excuse of a joke bring him back to the present and settles back in.

#shouta aizawa #eraserhead #all might #yagi toshinori #bnha #bnha fanfic #drabble #manga spoilers

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nikibogwater · 4 years ago

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So I happened to re-stumble upon your editorial for Tangled (which I love) and I got the mild impression you aren't a big fan of Frozen and I got curious.

Warning: Personal opinions herein. Proceed with caution.

Yes, the House of Bogwater has a great deal of respect for Tangled, hehe. 🌻

While I wish I could tell you I have this bitter, seething hatred for Frozen (as that would make for a more entertaining post), the truth of the matter is that I don't really have very strong negative feelings towards it. As a movie, I think it's perfectly fine, and when it first came out, I absolutely loved it. I have a very fond memory of my dad taking me to see it on opening day (I was 14 at the time, and super excited about it). But I quickly grew somewhat jaded towards the movie in the months that followed its release due to the staggering amount of publicity it got--people just wouldn't shut up about this movie. And normally that kind of thing doesn't bother me, except that when I compare the creative and artistic merit of Frozen to Disney movies of the past....it's really not that special. I think the main reason it got so much attention was because the whole movie was very carefully constructed to appeal to the consumer base. Some of its themes and messages just felt like "cheat codes" written into the plot to ensure that the film would generate as much revenue as humanly possible. Like, while they could've done something really neat with the theme of "don't rush into love," they ended up just making this super bland, oversimplified moral to beat kids over the head with and appeal to the crowd of people who like to take pot shots at old-school Disney films simply for the fun of it. I've actually never met a real child who believes it's fine to marry someone you have known for literally a few hours. Most kids I know are able to tell the difference between idealized fiction meant for entertainment purposes only, and reality.

Again, this isn't me saying the movie is bad--visually, it's stunning, and the music is more than worthy of the awards it would go on to win. And I've mentioned before that Frozen actually has the most simple and accurate definition of love that I've ever encountered in any piece of media: "Love is putting someone else's needs before yours." A fantastic message, especially for 21st century audiences! But I guess if I had to describe the film as a whole, it'd just be Very Nice. It didn't actually feel groundbreaking, or revolutionary, or "the greatest Disney movie of the decade," as I remember one reviewer putting it. In fact, when compared to other Disney movies, Frozen falls flat in a lot of little ways. So I guess I have something of a love-hate relationship with it. There are very good things in it that I really like, but I'm also turned off by the elements that were shoehorned in there just to appeal to the market (I'm talking the painfully on-the-nose meta commentary about past Disney films and the decision to make Elsa one of the protagonists because they didn't want Let it Go to be a Villain Song).

What negative feelings I do have for Frozen were ultimately compounded by the fact that this movie massively overshadowed Tangled in the public eye, meaning fewer people would bother to give that film a try if they hadn't already. And, as you are already aware, I am of the opinion that Tangled is an absolutely phenomenal movie that tends to be overlooked in the Disney roster as "just another princess movie." So for that reason alone, I have to say Frozen doesn't rank super high on my list of Disney films.

Thanks so much for the ask, Non! ✨

(Edit: Forgot to mention that the original Hans Christian Anderson fairytale that inspired Frozen absolutely SLAPS, and the movie bears zero resemblance to it. Which I think is a shame).

#disney #frozen #tangled #niki answers

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brideofcthulhu10 · 5 years ago

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Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!

Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!

Christmas with the Boys

Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town.

Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.

Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.

Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.

Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.

Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination.

“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance.

Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.

“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.

“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.

“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.

Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!

Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite.

“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.

Paul always gives him crap for it of course.

“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”

"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking.

"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.

"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."

"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.

In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!

Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid.

"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs

"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"

But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!

Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!

“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed.

“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”

Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there, tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.

And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this.

"Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."

Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes.

When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.

Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.

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shirorozutriea · 5 years ago

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Moments in Time

Admin List

Day Six: Moments

Moments in Time

For couples, there were instances that they usually share a couple of personal belongings to them. Shirts, shorts and even the cliché part of everything. The sharing of hearts to one another.

And there’s the sweetest of sweet of everything couples share to one another. The physical touch. Holding hands. Forehead touching. And to the most intimate. But nothing can beat the touch of lips(besides the most intimate) as they keep it sweet and chaste.

Of course, Ruby and Weiss already had their fair share of kisses in their relationship, both before and after their declaration of closeted feelings. The first kiss that they had, was initiated by the heat of the moment celebration of success. It was a chaste and short peck on the cheek by none other than Weiss Schnee.

It was already nearing the time of dawn and our resident runner and fencer are still wide awake in the confides of their room. Both are busy on their work of art, the making of their joint project in the engineering class. They were paired, and albeit both of them accept it reluctantly, they manage to cooperate into making their work. But not without any complications. Bouts and bouts of arguments and touch lashing was done by the two. And inevitably coursing to the point of abandoning one another to make their own, if not for the threat hidden behind their professor’s words they would have already been done on their own.

The two were not exactly the best of friends in their group. In fact, both abhor hatred and rivalry towards the other. In terms of academic and extracurricular activities, both strive to outshone one another. Although at first, Ruby was a bit more understanding on the fencer’s side, the amount of tongue lashing and comments had been enough to sever the little amount of patience she ever had for Weiss Schnee. And it went downhill after that.

But today, and only for today, they both set aside their differences and rivalry. They couldn’t afford to get bested by anyone in the class just because they couldn't stand each other’s presence. They were about to prove everyone that they can work with each other despite the seething anger they have for the other.

“Rose, how’s the Hand working?” Weiss asked as she tinker the base of their work. Ruby grunted. “Bolts. Screws. I need them.”

Weiss handed her the tool box near her and the brunette muttered a ‘thanks’ and began to finish the hand on her side, as Weiss holds a soldering iron in her hands, melting a piece of iron.

“Schnee, want me to paint this?” Ruby asked as she marvel the finished product of her side of work. “How's the base and attractor working.”

“Marvelously, if I do say so.” Weiss replied as she took a step back and looked at the Hand. “Skin tone paint?” Ruby grabbed a spray paint and shook it. “And?”

Weiss took a step near the former and leaned in to see the Hand. “Do you mind if you put our emblem in?” Ruby perked up and snapped her fingers. “Good idea, Schnee!”

After a few more minutes, the finish product was ready to be presented. Weiss smiled proudly at their work, while Ruby grinned, oil and paint decorating her face and clothes.

“A working prosthetic arm. Might a bit farfetched, but not for us.” Hummed Weiss. Ruby chuckled and clapped her hands. “I'd say it’s perfect. You did a great job.”

Weiss felt an immense pride and overwhelming happiness dawn on her. Then her body moved on her own, in the heat of the moment, kissed a shocked brunette on the cheeks.

“You did great too, Rose. As expected of my partner.” Weiss compliments. Ruby, still in the state of shock, could only nod at her.

After all that, in that same day, they passed the project in flying colors. As expected of the two. And though Weiss must have dismissed the heat of the moment reaction, Ruby didn’t and the scene lingered for a long while.

But then, by some miracle of art, the two became exceptionally close. The two were often seen to quiz each other. They often partner up in different projects that requires two individuals and their works were highly praised. For all the remainder of the second semester, the two became completely inseparable. Always seen together, whether it would be going to school and/or eating in the cafeteria. Students swore that they saw the two hang around the plaza and malls. Others suspected that they were actually together. But the two were oblivious.

Then the day of the dance came in. Both prodigies were now in the grand hall of Beacon. First years up to six years were all wearing glamorous dresses and fine tuxes and dancing on the beat of the music. It was a grand ball for everyone attending the academy. The only grand ball that happens after every six years.

Now, if you are wondering what our two prodigies are wearing, well then, take a guess… and if you guessed right, bravo to you.

Ruby was leaning on a post next to a table filled with various delicacies. Her arms crossed above her chest as she observe her sister awkwardly dancing a certain bookworm. The brunette couldn’t help but smile at the sheer adorableness of the two. She had all prepared for the two, down to their clothes up to these dance all by themselves, no interruptions whatsoever.

Ruby then began to adjust the tightening tie on her neck. If no one knows her, she might be mistaken for a guy in a stylish tux. She was wearing a white long sleeved polo with a red vest on top and a white tie, a black suit with red linings paired with black trousers and a pair of black leathered shoes. She looks absolutely dashing leaning on that wall, with girls swooning as they pass by in front of her. But she paid no attention, merely looking up ahead while grabbing a glass of champagne.

“May I join you?”

Ruby looked at the familiar face and she smile, nodding in reply. The girl stood a step beside her and grabbed their own glass. “If you don’t mind me asking, how come you're not dancing with anyone right now?”

Ruby gave her a quizzical look. “Actually, I don’t have a partner. And I doubt anyone would want me to be their partner. Plus, I’m only here to play matchmaker. How about you, Schnee? Any partners?” Weiss quipped, as if telling her that there was no one able to reach her league.

Ruby's eyes roam at the girl in front of her. Weiss was wearing a light blue long gown that hugs her figure perfectly. There were snowflake designs at the hem of her dress and a pair of light blue stilettos matches her entire figure. Ruby noticed the latter’s face were sparkling as if there were glitters in her makeup(which there is). Weiss then took her turn to look and smirked.

“My, aren’t you dashing, Rose.” Said Weiss, Ruby’s cheeks were dusted in pink and averted her gaze. “Same to you. But not dashing… gorgeous.” Weiss blinked at the compliments and smiled shyly, mouthing a ‘thanks’.

Ruby began to feel a little bit bolder, assuming it was the champagne’s effect, she gently took the white haired girl's hand. She looked her in the eye and leaned in to give the slender back of her hand a kiss.

Weiss eye’s widen at the action and Ruby couldn't help but smirk. “And since you don’t have a partner. May I take you to the dance floor, princess?”

Weiss ignoring the nickname, nodded in agreement while clasping her hand on the brunette as she felt herself being gently taken to the dance floor.

The night ended like a wisp of air and a bubble pop. Fast and short. But with good results. Ruby's sister, Yang and her now lover Blake had their night well-spent, as you can see. Ruby and Weiss had their night ended with them feeling more for one another without them noticing. But not until game night of drunken stupor.

Their group had a sleepover during the summer break. Their second year had recently ended and all of them planned a sleepover before they went home to their respective houses outside Vale. The place was on one of the Schnee’s summer house in Vale.

The day went on slowly until it was already night time. The group had decided to spend the night awake until they passed out. And of course, what kind of sleepover is these if there was no games and most of all… alcohol.

Yang and Nora was already on their drunken glory, spouting nonsense and profanities around while holding a bottle of vodka. Ren was already a bit tipsy, but otherwise ready to pass out. Jaune was all and about, sprawled around the floor mumbling on his own with Pyrrha poking him in the stomach. Blake was still up, spouting story ideas, mostly not for children to hear, no doubt it was the alcohol’s influence. While Weiss and Ruby are looking at the bunch with an amused look. Although both are a bit tipsy and already in the influence of the alcohol. Though, out of everyone they are the ones who are sober enough.

Yang looked at the two and grinned mischievously. “Hey, Weissy poo.” She slurred. Weiss looked at her in confusion as Yang hiccupped and draped an arm on her shoulder. “Wanna play a game?”

Weiss blinked slowly. “What game?” She asked. Yang bellowed laughing. “Why truth or dare of course!”

Nora perked up at the statement and shook Blake who’s right next to her muttering her mantra of nsfw plots. “Truth or daaaare… COUNT ME IN!!!” She yelled, her words slurring.

Ruby poked Weiss’ shoulder and the latter looked. “Fair warning, Weiss. Those two are a huge darer. Just, fair warning.” Weiss chuckled. “How bad could it be?”

Bad. Very bad. Weiss ended up drunk and now slurring and dancing to Hakuna Matata. Yang whistled and howled, cheering her on, then began to join her dancing in a conga line.

Ruby, in her tipsy yet sober mind, took a video of the two and began giggling at the sheer dopey scene unfolding in front of her. Who knew Weiss had the guts to dance around like cheery wonder child. Only drunk Weiss would. Once the two was finished dancing, both of them fell on the floor giggling like madmen in a killing spree.

“One last dare, Weissy.” Yang slurred. Weiss grunted in reply and the blond laughed. “Kiss Ruby!!” The person in question guffawed at the dare.

Weiss blinked and stood up grunting in between her teeth, her gaze falling on Ruby who squirmed and fidget nervously at the girl. Weiss took a step forward and Ruby jumped upward, preparing to run away from the white haired girl. Weiss launched at the brunette who yelped and ran away from the latter's clutch with Yang hitting her knee while laughing, enjoying the scene playing in front.

“Ack—Weiss! No, stop!!” Ruby screamed as she ran to the sofa, before falling on the floor crawling as she stood up. Weiss then tripped on the fallen body of Blake Belladonna and took a hold of Ruby’s legs, earning an ‘oof’ from the brunette. Weiss giggled. “Gotcha..”

Ruby visibly gulped at her impending demise.

Weiss crawled towards her in a seductive manner as the runner watched and shudder. Weiss then fall on the brunette’s stomach and nuzzled at her. Ruby stared at the girl. “Uhmm… Weiss?” Her clouded mind began to sober up since the run.

“Warm…” The girl muttered. Ruby blinked at her. She then felt the girl crawl on top of her and she stiffened. The fencer gazed at her in a haze of alcohol stupor.

Weiss then grinned and pinned the poor brunette in the floor. “I have a dare… hic.. to finish..” She slurred. Ruby’s eyes widen and squirmed at the girl's hands to no avail.

A girl in a corgi t-shirt and shorts stole her first kiss.

Ruby gaped at the now passed out figure of Weiss Schnee. The same Weiss Schnee that she used to dislike. The same Weiss Schnee who just stole her first kiss because Yang dared her to.

Ruby didn’t get a wink of sleep after that.

Then the morning came and Ruby went out from that room looking like a stressed panda. And as usual, Weiss doesn’t remember what happened and Ruby was out there gripping her hair in distress. And that was the same day Yang swore to herself to not drink while playing truth or dare, or any other games with her sister around because she swore that she almost got herself skinned alive by her sister.

The year went by peacefully like it supposed to be. They were in their fourth year and everything is the same, well… almost the same. You see, during the duration of their third year, some things just came into light. Just like how Ruby described it, it was like, poof! There it was!

And what changed? Oho, I’m sure you know. Yes, you guessed right.

“I swear there’s something fishy going on with those two.” Said Yang to Blake, as she stared at her sister and friend, Weiss. Blake's ears twitched at the statement and looked at the two. “What do you mean?”

Yang huffed. “Just look at ‘em! You can see the awkward silence and look—there! That distance between them… what is that?” Yang gave the two an incredulous look that had gone unnoticed.

Blake shook her head and observed the two. Okay, maybe she noticed it. But that doesn’t mean it’s that really unusual. She knew that both of them had a rough past, but now that Yang had said it, there really is an awkward silence looming around them.

She looked at Yang and said. “Okay. I noticed. But isn’t that normal, the distance I mean.” Yang looked at her in realization. “Of course.” Blake gave her a confused stare. “Those two are inseparable, at least when they're together.”

Blake pondered for a minute. “Want to talk to them?” Yang grinned at her and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You took the words out of my mouth, Blakey.”

The two approached the awkward athletes. Yang asking Weiss to help her to look for something, and Blake telling Ruby if she would like to run with her. The two were confused, but nonetheless agreed at their friend's request.

Blake and Ruby reached the locker room and grabbed their p.e clothes and changing in the stalls. Beacon’s p.e clothes consists of white shirt with linings of whatever color you wanted, the same with shorts. So now, Ruby walked out from one of the stalls wearing a white t-shirt with red linings and a red short, likewise with Blake, but her shirt had black linings paired with black shorts.

“Ready to go, Ruby?” Asked Blake. Ruby nodded and they went to the field and do their stretches.

Though Ruby is a runner, Blake wasn’t exactly one, though she sometimes participates in the runs of Beacon’s track and field team, with one or two of their members trying to persuade her to join. But Blake was happy running for sweats and exercise.

Blake looked at Ruby as they jogged in a slow pace, cleared her throat before speaking. “Are you alright, Ruby?”

Ruby looked at Blake. “Yeah? Why you asked?” Blake blinked at her, stopping herself from raising a brow. “You are awfully quiet.”

Ruby blinked at her wide eyed, before looking ahead. “You think so?”

Blake let a sly smirk rest on her lips. “Yeah. I could see the awkwardness from a mile away.”

“—and what makes you think Ruby and I are awkward?” Weiss asked as she looked up from a bush. Yang grinned at her and she looked away, realizing her mistake. “I didn’t mentioned any name.”

Weiss scoffed at her and rolled her eyes. “Yang it’s obvious.” Yang continue to grin. “So you did noticed.”

Weiss sighed in defeat and brush a hand in her hair. “Yes, I did. As you would likely put, it can be seen from a mile away.”

Yang smiled at her, before a frown took place. “If you noticed, why didn’t you make a move?”

Weiss leaned back and straighten her body. “Move? What move?” She saw the blond roll her eyes at her, but she ignored it. Yang then sat on a nearby bench and huffed. The ‘thing’ they were looking for long forgotten.

“Why didn’t you try to talk to her? You know, try to ease the awkward tension.” Yang stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“—partially because I don’t know if the awkwardness was coming from her or from me?” Ruby proposed and Blake quirked an eyebrow.

“Coming from you?” She asked. Ruby stopped jogging and her chest heaved a deep sigh. “I don’t know—I don’t know if I can face her…”

Now that caught Blake's attention. She observed how the brunette’s face scrunched in frustration, her eyebrows knitting together and her teeth biting her lower lip. Blake was now curious.

“You know.. you can talk to me, right?” She cautiously replied. Ruby took a glance and sighed, rubbing the back of her head.

“Listen…” She started. “I don’t know.. when this started. It could be on that project we made, or the dance… or—or the sleepover last last year, I don’t know. But I started to notice something… anything and everything from her.. like, she just draws me in… hiss.. I don’t know, Blake..”

Blake listened and Ruby continued. “At first, it was the way she moved around. Did you know that when she’s in a good mood, she would tip her toe when she’s standing, and then back and tip toe again, that kind of stuff. Or when she’s stressed, her fingers would unconsciously drum a tune.” Ruby then walked, trying to clear her thought. Blake followed beside her.

“Then… it turns to noticing her moods in every subtle way. When she’s nervous… she would brush her hair, then she would—”

“—bounce her knee when she’s getting impatient.” Stated Weiss, her gaze rooted in the grass behind Yang. “And more often than not, that knee would hit the table and chaos ensues. I swear the amount of coffee wasted is going to be the death of me..” Huffed Weiss, but a smile was on her lips.

Yang just blinked at the girl in front of her. Never did she once saw this side of her. It was new. And probably, rare. Yang opened her mouth. “Do you like my sister?”

Weiss stared at the blond, though her face was motionless, her ears are bright red and her left eye twitched. That's all that Yang needed for an answer. She mentally smirked at how Weiss was being obvious with her attraction towards her red tipped hair of a sister.

Yang stood up and encircle her arm on the latter’s shoulder. Weiss’ ears turns beet red as she noticed the smirk dancing on the blond brute’s lips. But Yang just gave her a thumbs up and a pat on the back before walking away. Weiss didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Weiss followed Yang. The walk between them was silent. Though she took a side glance at the blond and still sees her grinning like she had won a lottery. She was nervous.

And she had the right to be.

In between the conversations that was happening between the two group, Yang and Blake were chatting and devising a plan to get the two closer. And they decided to leave them on a secluded area on Beacon and just hide their way out. And that’s what happened.

Weiss and Ruby found themselves alone in the area without any trace of the two matchmakers. Ruby was nervous. Her toes curling on her shoes. She just observed the white haired girl and she noticed the reddening ears as the time pass by.

Now, Ruby doesn’t know what to do. Her mind was short-circuiting every minute as she stare at the white haired beauty. Maybe she just needed a push. And as if the gods had seen this rather awkward and painstaking moment, a wind passed by and Weiss’ hair flew in front of her face, her ponytail loosing.

Ruby couldn’t help but giggle, then she looked at her and noticed that she was actually close to the latter which shook her. How did she—? Then she noticed how Weiss was struggling to keep her hair away from her face, the wind still blowing. Ruby snorted a laugh and raised her hand to sweep away the snow-like hair, her fingers making way to the tresses and then tucking them with her hand on her neck. Now, both of them are gazing at each other's eyes.

Ruby didn’t know what urged her to do it. But she did it anyway. She leaned in for a soft, chaste kiss. It was… magical. Yes, sounds cheesy, but that’s the only word her mind can eloquently form. It felt like a bunch of fireworks exploding and tickling her insides. But of course, like fireworks, it was short-lived. The two broke the kiss.

“I—I…”

Weiss ran. Ruby was dumbfounded.

Ruby groaned and face palmed herself… hard. “Oh come on. Not again…” But her heart was knocked back from her chest.

Now, Weiss didn’t know why she had ran away. She felt stupid. And embarrassed. But mostly stupid.

Her feet dragged on the dirt as she slowed down her pace and ultimately stopped at the center of the school. She took a sit on the fountain and lamented the fact that she had made a fool of herself by running away from her crush—or was it just a crush? No it wasn't, she knew. Well at first she thought it was a crush, but the more she thought of what it was, the more she knew what it really was. And she was glad! Really, she were. She hasn’t expected it to be her, but it was what she had always expected. Someone who can level with her and actually had patience with her.

Weiss sighed deeply and groaned as her hands met her face. She briefly wondered the sheer idiocy of her actions, leaving the poor brunette alone, probably confused and disappointed—she felt really bad for everything. She just hoped the brunette would find her and kiss her senseless.

“Weiss!”

Speak of the devil.

Weiss stood up as she saw the running figure of Ruby Rose. A pang of guilt etched its way to her heart and she met the latter halfway. The brunette met her gaze as she stopped running, her eyes darting everywhere.

“I-I’m so sorry, Weiss! I—I know.. what I did was wrong. Entirely wrong! I… I wasn’t sure if you even feel the same way.. BUT! I don’t care if you don’t, maybe I do but…” Ruby looked up at her, her eyes glistening. “I don’t want our friendship to fall so soon just because I kissed you and I fell for you because if I’m being honest I already had my eyes on you since the very start and you’re just so gorgeous and also very pret—”

Weiss didn’t let her linger any longer and planted her lips to the other. It wasn't as chaste as the first kiss. It was filled with passion… a much more burning fire being fueled by the thought of feeling themselves closer.

Her hands snaked the taller girl's neck and fumbled with the hair under. Ruby, likewise, slide her arms down to the shorter girl's waist, planting her hands in place as she returned the kiss. Ruby's breath hitched as she felt the slender hands of the girl in her arms tug the hair on her nape. This courage the white haired girl to bit the bottom of her now-lover's lip, the reaction was immediate. Weiss let her tongue intertwine with the other, no sense of dominance in the play, just pure passion. Ruby took her chance to explore the former, and—oh my god she’s kissing her… with tongue!

The two broke their what seems like an eternity of a kiss. The two stared at each other and Ruby chuckled. “I—wow… that was..”

“Amazing?” Weiss suggested. Ruby giggled and pressed the fencer’s body flush to her. “More than amazing.”

Weiss smiled and gave her a peck, before pulling away but the runner followed her for another kiss. Ruby pulled away and smiled. “So… what now?”

Weiss rolled her eyes affectionately. “I believe this is the time for you to ask me out.” Ruby grinned and kissed her nose. “Would you like to go out with me?”

Weiss chuckled and hold the latter’s elbows. “I did kiss you. Which should be an aftermath of the date, but yes, I would love to. To go out with you.” Ruby giggled and hugged the latter. And they stayed like that for a bit longer.

And if you’re wondering if their date went well. It went along swimmingly. And the aftermath of their relationship? It went without any problems for the rest of that year, and only for the rest of that year.

Complications starts to rise. By complications, I mean countless of misunderstandings. Weiss and Ruby both decided to keep things steady by not informing a lot of people about the changes in their relationship. The only individuals who knew about their relationship was Yang and Blake. None of their other friends knew what’s going on between them, and they would like to keep it that way. But as always. Things didn’t go the way they both expected.

During the first two weeks of their fifth year, that was the start. Out of the two prodigies, Ruby was the most popular because of her personality and Weiss was considered, more or less... a bitch. Weiss knew that. The amount of back stabbing was enough proof for that. But it all grew worse when she and Ruby became exceptionally close. She knows that Ruby had quite a fan base, and all of them, well not really all of them, but most wants to just get on her pants. And seeing that she’s so close with her despite being someone that they don’t exactly like, well then, here comes the hate.

Every mail box, her locker, her phone, her desk… and even her bag, was filled with; “Don’t come near Ruby or I will see you in the dumps.” That’s the pg-13 and translated everything, but I will tell you. It's all graphic. Down to the bone, literally.

But she paid no mind. Because, why? If she paid attention and get all riled up, then that means they got into her. And Weiss doesn’t want any lever of interest to be unfold just to get the reaction they wanted. However, all ends when it gets too personal.

You can tell her everything and anything. Be it may profanities or straight up bullcrap. But never, and I mean never, bring her parents up and attack her loyalty to her friends. Needless to say, this got her pretty bad. And what’s worst of all…

“You don’t deserve Ruby's kindness you brat.”

“How could a bitch like you, get accepted by Ruby? That’s ridiculous.”

“Ice Queen. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Maybe she’s just there because she doesn’t want you to feel alone and sad. I pity you. She's too pure for you.”

“Those friends? Are they really your friends? Or better yet, you, do they deserve you.”

…she believes them.

There was a ring, then none. This got Ruby worried. Weiss never had not answered her calls, nor her friends calls. She looked at Yang, worry was etched in her face. Then, the thunder cackle and lightning flashed.

Ruby made another call.

“The number you have dialed is currently unattended. Please try and call lat—”

“She’s not answering my calls.” Said Ruby. Ruby felt her heart clench in worry. Yang hold her shoulder and comforted her. “She'll be okay. I know she will.” But it did no effect.

They heard heavy and rushed footsteps coming from the stairs. The two sisters looked at the raven haired girl holding a bunch of papers with a frantic look on her face. Blake panted, her chest heaving and she looked at Ruby.

“Weiss.. is.. not okay…” Uttered Blake. Ruby stood in alarm and her hand clenched tightly, her palm paling. “Blake.” Her voice was stern and hard.

Blake panicked and Yang looked at her worried. She never have seen the girl this worried and panicky. Blake's eyes flickered to and fro. Her hands clenched unconsciously on the papers in her hands.

“They.. hurt her. Sent her… this many notes and letters.. I-I should've known… I see the signs and yet..” Blake sobbed. Yang ran to her side and hugged her. “I don’t know… where she went.. but its raining... we have to find her.”

Ruby didn’t need to be told twice as she bolted out of the door, out in the heavy rain. Yang set Blake down in the couch and envelope her with blankets and kissed her, telling her that she will help her sister to look for the white haired heiress. Blake nodded stiffly.

Ruby found herself outside her home and into the rain. The rain felt like knife in her skin as her eyes searched the blurry landscape. Her voice rang, shouting her name, all the while her voice cracking. However, she paid no attention. Her mind is clouded with the thought of her girlfriend hurting while she had no idea of everything that is going on with her.

She searched around, her feet taking her to Oum knows where. Still, there was no sign of the white haired fencer. Her worry increases tremendously. Her eyes began to sting from crying. Her throat becoming parched from shouting. And yet, she still couldn’t find her.

But by some miracle in disguise, she heard her voice.

“Ruby?!”

Her head did a whiplash at the sound of her girlfriend.

“Ruby!!”

Her eyes strained at the blurred image of a girl running with an audible white umbrella in the gray world she is in. She ran.

In a flash, the white umbrella was thrown in the haste and the rain puddles splashed around. Droplets seeped in through the fencer’s clothes, giving in on the chilly breeze, but she paid no mind.

“RUBY!!”

A gasp and splash rang.

The two found themselves sprawled in the asphalt road, the heiress sobbing in the runner's arms. Ruby was also crying. Her heart beating so fast and her breathing gone ragged. She held the shorter girl in her arms tightly, the rain forgotten. The loud rumble of the sky was buzzed out. The lightning dimmed low. But her sobs was clear in her ears.

“Weiss, you’re okay. Shh… it’s okay..” She cooed. She felt the former’s body tremble in her touch. She heard her gasp. “R-Ruby… I’m so.. sorry.” Her stomach churned.

Ruby held her even possibly tighter. “No. No. It’s okay… I should be the one saying sorry..” Weiss pulled away and looked at her with red puffy eyes. Ruby kissed her eyes and tears ran once again as she choke back a sob.

“I felt… defeated.. miserable… but most of all, I felt like.. I don’t deserve any of you.. that I don’t deserve you.” Ruby saw red. She saw the exhausted look on her girlfriend's face and she almost growled. How could they? How could they hurt the most wonderful person that had come into her life? How?

“Don’t be.” Whispered Ruby as she took a hold of the latter’s face. “We love you. I love you. And that won’t ever change. You are the most wonderful thing that happened in my life. You are a miracle that I didn’t thought I would get. Weiss, I love you.”

Weiss bit back a sob and gave her a genuine smile. Ruby was almost blinded at the sheer genuineness of her smile. It was tight lipped, but the end curved upwards. Her eyes crinkle showing her, her own love.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The fencer asked. Ruby smiled and tucked her hair on her ear. “A lot, Weiss. A lot. And allowing me to love you is one of them.”

A kiss blossomed under the gray sky. And the sky parted out, light raining through them. The blue skies gazed upon them and the sun blessed them with its rays.

Yang, now with Blake in tow spotted the two kissing under the sun’s rays. Blake smiled at the picturesque scene in front of her. The scene was a sight to behold. Like it had came out from a book or from the movies.

“Are we watching a live-action movie schnee-n?” Yang commented. The two broke away after the comment and looked at the two. Blake rolled her eyes and jabbed the blond. “Don’t ruin it.”

Ruby and Weiss blinked at them and snickered. The bumbleby couple looked at the two in confusion as they laugh, their voice ringing everywhere, and pretty soon they joined after them.

The days after that went pretty chill for them. And the note/letter sending ceased—no doubt Yang had something to do with that. Weiss though, still observes the side glances and glares coming from the Ruby fandom, but other than that, there were no more. Ruby became slightly protective… okay, subtly more protective to her and she noticed that. There were times that the brunette would see the glances on her way and she would glare coldly to those people. Can’t say that she didn’t like that side of her girlfriend.

And everything went smoother than silk after all that. Their relationship strengthen even more and they opened up their relationship with everyone they knew. And by everyone, I mean everyone. Their group of friends were happy for the two couple, and the student body also cheered for them, well, except Ruby's fans of course. But Ruby handled them very well—let’s just say that Yang and Nora were very happy to break some legs.

And of course, Papa Schnee, Jacques, found out their relationship. At first, Weiss was terrified when the two of them were requested to meet the man and Ruby was there to comfort her. And by the time they met him, he just gave them a smile and a nod. Weiss was happy. She literally jumped from where she stood and launched herself to her father's arms. Ruby smiled at the two and promised the father that she would make his daughter happy with everything she have.

Then their graduation came, the two both graduated atop from their peers and Weiss declared their unending love by kissing her wonderful girlfriend full on the lips with everyone cheering and howling on them. The after party though, was another thing. It was their first intimate moment. And up till now, it’s still deeply engraved in their minds.

“Weiss, I love you.” Said Ruby as they sat on their sofa. Weiss blinked at the sudden declaration. It’s been years since she heard those words for so many times, and yet, it never ceased to make her heart do somersaults and her face turning into lovely shades of red.

“What’s with you all of a sudden?” Weiss asked, kissing the crown of her lover. Ruby sighed in contentment. “I just want to say it. I love you.”

Weiss’ heart starts to beat faster once again and she bit the urge to squeal. “And I love you too.” She stated. Ruby looked up to give her a chaste kiss and smiled sweetly. “I know.”

Notes:

Boy, that was long. And I definitely improved a lot from my early works. This, made my day. The amount of detailed describing that I made just to give every moment a feel of what they should feel… I am very proud.

My first thoughts for the prompt was, “Kiss, Kiss, fall in love.”

As you can see, I kinda experimented and explore the depths of writing that I can reach. I did my best.

I want to capture the moments. To give you the feel of it. I hope I did a good job.

So, brief explanation of little tidbits, they first met when they were starting their freshman year in the lab. Since you all know they are pretty smart, they did good on chemistry but someone left a glass tube on the floor and Ruby tripped landing on Weiss. Needless to say, chaos ensues and since then Weiss disliked Ruby. Next, the project was asked by Professor Port, he’s the one handling engineering classes. Duly note that this all were in the course of two semesters of their first year. They spent six years in school. Ruby had a crush on Weiss on the duration of the first week of the first semester, then it all vanished when they became rivals. On game night, there she realized her feelings for Weiss. Weiss realized hers on the duration of their third year. Due to the fact that she’s cold, people call her, not Ice Queen that was Yang, bitch.. they call her a stick in the mud, bitch. And yes, there were death threats. Taiyang knows their relationship since he ship the two, he found out when he caught them kissing once in Patch. Jacques is good, distant but good, he makes amends for the three siblings.

This is the prequel of the Day 5: Nap Time and/or Cuddles. The last moment were in the same timeline as Day 5 before they fell asleep.

#wrw2020 #white rose week #rwby white rose #otp: thank me later #day 6 #bees are still here #moar smooches #KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE #so much fluff #i told you to prepare

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chosenkeepersworld · 4 years ago

Text

The Curses We Inherit: Chapter 1

Original Work

Word count: 1,646 words

Date Posted: April 14, 2021 (Tumblr)

A/N: Unbeta-ed work but I hope whoever reads this will like it and let me know what you think. Critique is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

MASTERLIST

Danika practically lunged out of her seat as she woke up, the seatbelt being the only thing stopping her from nearly slamming into the overhead.

She could hear the woman’s voice echoing as she heaved heavily “It’s the only way to break my curse” slender fingers tugged at golden, red locks as the young woman steadied the rapid beating of her heart.

“Are you alright?” the elderly woman sitting next to her asked, lightly touching the younger woman’s shoulder. Danika attempted to smile “I’m alright, it was just a dream” the strawberry blonde turned to look out the plane window.

The dream changed from the ones she had had before. More and more details had become clearer than the previous night. Maybe she would finally get the answers she had been looking for when she arrived.

The plane had begun its descent while Danika slept but now more awake she could see wide ranges of green fields and lines of trees drew closer and closer, farther out she could make out some of the houses and roads.

She allowed herself to smile, feeling the excitement that had been overtaken by anxiousness finally bubble in her chest, maybe she could enjoy herself for once.

Golden red hair swayed as she bobbed her head to music coming softly from her earphones, Danika was one among many who were waiting for their luggage to come around, there was no hurry since her relatives were still on the way. This was the first time she would be meeting them in person, not just hearing their voices or looking at them through a screen, and now wished she’d brought something.

But this wasn’t a vacation, she had reasons for coming here.

The music immediately cut off, the caller ringtone replacing it. Assuming it was one of her relatives she took the call.

“Danika”

The young woman went stiff at the sound of his voice. Her name had been said that way before, coldly, in disappointment and exhaustion as if she was the cause of every problem they had. Her father said it that way often, and it looked like her brother would be picking up the habit.

“Why are you in Ir-”

She hung up on him. She gently pulled at the wires, letting the buds hang around her shoulders, the sounds around her faded until she could only hear the sound of her heartbeat booming in her ears. Numbness was all she felt, too many thoughts were racing around in her mind. Her brother knew she was here and if he were her father she would have a team of bodyguards coming after her as soon as possible, they would bring her home kicking and screaming if they had to then her father would punish her for it.

Her brother was not their father. However, she wasn’t sure that was a good thing either.

When she got out of the building, after finally snapping out of her thoughts and getting her suitcase, the young woman peered around others as she walked out. She was about to walk further down when someone yelled out her name. Turning, she quickly spotted a woman waving wildly at her, holding a sign with Danika's name.

The woman's long, dark hair tangled in the breeze as she made her way towards the younger woman, her light brown eyes brightened with glee.

Danika took in the woman's features as she moved closer and closer, all the young woman could do was stare. She was unsure how to handle this situation, on one hand they were family but on the other they were practically strangers. There was no time for an internal debate, she put on her usual, polite smile and extended her hand.

But before Danika could get a word out of her mouth, the dark haired woman enveloped her in a tight hug. Danika stiffened before forcing herself to relax, awkwardly patting her back in response.

“It’s so good to finally meet you” she grinned at me “I’m Cara” she began steering the younger woman to their car, still chatting gleefully while all Danika could do was nod. “Sean was so excited to see you after so long but there was a work emergency this morning” She laughed “You should have seen his face when he found out”

The name lit a lightbulb in her mind. Sean was one of her many cousins, a little older than her brother. She’d met him a few times when she was video chatting with her aunt, who had also tagged her on social media when he got married at the end of last year.

Sean and Cara lived in a one bedroom apartment in Arbour Hill, upon entering the unit the first thing Danika could see was the small dining table, pushed up against the wall, beyond it was the living area. To the right of the entryway was the kitchen, there were two doors, one beyond the kitchen and one next to the television stand, either one leading to the bedroom or the bathroom.

The apartment wasn’t grand, the furniture wasn’t ungodly expensive and the décor wasn’t massive or famous. Everything was the complete opposite, simple, clean and comfortable.

“Sean mentioned a few things about you and your brother. This probably isn’t what you’re used to but I hope you’ll be comfortable even though it’s only for a night”

Danika turned to say something but Cara was already in the kitchen fixing up the take-out she bought on the way home. Sean and Cara had opened their home to her and had been welcoming from the moment Cara saw her at the airport the least she could say something nice.

The strawberry blonde took a deep breath to calm her heart hammering in her chest.

“Uh, Cara?”

The dark haired woman turned to her “Hmm?”

This was it, just a few simple and kind words “I...uh...where’s the bathroom”

Ugh, coward

Exhaustion had finally caught up with Danika by the end of lunch. She changed into more comfortable clothing, a loose fitting t-shirt, sweatpants and her favorite pair of fluffy flip-flops. Cara had shown her the bedroom, it minimalistic like the rest of the apartment. The bed was at the center, two nightstands on either side of the bed, the closet by the door and a small desk across from it.

Danika had just settled into bed for a nap but despite the physical exhaustion, her mind had too many thoughts for it to settle. Her brother’s call earlier was on the forefront of her mind, worried about what he might do or if he would do anything at all. Her father had used their family’s considerable resources to empower himself. Used his money to gain the favor of law enforcement, used his status to “befriend” other people of power and used the power to make sure people fell in line.

But he was gone now and Connor had taken his place. Connor was smarter, more charming and had quickly gained the employees’ respect and fear. However, his motivations still eluded her and he would never talk about family business to someone he considered a child, despite her age, someone who still believed in fairytales and curses.

Danika groaned and snuggled as deep as she could into her pillow, and eventually her body found rest, but in her mind, in her dreams, she found herself watching a missing part of an old family tale.

It always felt real when she woke up. Danika could feel the softness of the thin blanket beneath her fingertips, could smell the scent of gardenias from the bouquet that sat on the table and when she began to move around the small space it was as if she were really there.

Once exiting the bedroom, one would see a wooden, square table with chairs on all sides. A small kitchen, two tables and a chimney with a metal pot at the center of the firepit.

But it was always the door, behind one of the dining chairs, that drew her attention. The scene behind it changed everything she knew about the story that was passed down from one generation to another. The garden behind the cottage was lush and filled with all kinds of vegetables, fruit, flowers and herbs growing in sections of the garden. However what really drew her attention was a little ways beyond the garden.

She saw a man and woman under the thick branches of the old tree as she moved closer. She could only assume they were the couple in the story, the prince and the healer torn apart by the prince’s choices.

“ I don’t understand why you keep returning when my answer will be the same as before” the woman asked softly, never looking away from the mounds of newly settled soil.

“ My wife is pregnant, she lives in constant fear because of what you have done” he told her “Thea wouldn’t want-”

The woman turned, finally facing him. Her amber eyes bright with fury, looking at him with such hatred causing Danika to flinch.

“You have no right to say her name” she seethed “You are the reason why she had to join her garden, why she and her child needed to be laid to rest beneath us”

Danika’s eyes widened then turned to the two mounds close to the tree, one was much smaller than the other and each had a garland of flowers that hung off a wooden marker, etched on each marker was what looked like a moonflower. It was clear to anyone who saw the markers that it was a burial mound.

The prince’s eyes darkened and his jaw tightened “What do you want?” he gritted his teeth.

“I want Thea’s torque” she said then her eyes moved to look at Danika’s “That’s the only way to break my curse”

#The Curses We Inherit #The Curses We Inherit Ch 1 #original story #original writing #creative writing #wip #unbeta'd

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