#give me this with shanks and i probably instantly drop dead

[buggypirates]

I am crying and so close to puke cotton candy

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

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Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 9: cliffs

Character A vows to do something nice for a stranger during the Christmas time. Character B is that stranger,, percabeth

Percy happens to think that he’s a nice human being. He tries to be, at least. He has his moments because no one is perfect, but he’s always done his best to be considerate of those around him.

So when his friend tells him that he’s really not a nice person, he just about loses it.

“I am not a bad person!”

Leo raises his hands defensively. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. All I’m saying is that you could be a little bit more... generous.”

Piper rolls her eyes. “Leave the poor man alone, Leo.”

“I’m generous,” he says, miffed.

“But...” Leo waves his hands wildly, and Percy feels the instinct to punch him in the nose and make him Rudolph. “Do something nice for once.”

“Percy,” Piper says, “he’s just mad that you didn’t give him a piece of your gingerbread cookie. Don’t listen to him.”

Still, it stings just a little bit. Even if it’s a joke, Percy doesn’t think it’s very funny. That’s what prompts him to do something kind this Christmas. He honestly doesn’t know what he plans on doing because what could he do? Buy all of someone’s presents and also go broke in the process? Maybe he could buy someone’s cheap coffee, but then is it really something nice if it’s only two dollars?

Whatever it is, Percy knows that Leo has to be there to see it so he can make Leo choke on his words. The only problem then, though, is that Leo would no doubt say something along the lines of you’re only doing it because you want to prove me wrong, not because you care, bla bla bla, and the Percy will actually shank Leo with a peppermint candy cane.

Percy tries so hard to find the chance to make someone’s Christmas, but it’s so much harder than he would’ve thought. People ignore him when he’s speaking to them about buying their order, or they think it’s some weird Christmas ploy.

He doesn’t get to do something kind until Christmas day.

Percy’s standing in the freezing air on top of a snow-tubing mountain. His friends had dragged him here against his will, because despite being a native New Yorker, he hated the cold. He wanted to be included though, so he came along anyways, stuffed into a black snow suit and a knitted hat. His nose burns from the icy atmosphere, and his fingers are numb. He considers checking for frostbite but then he decides he’d rather not know.

He’s standing on a small wall of ice overlooking everyone else. Leo is somewhere to his right, threatening to push Piper off of the wall, and Percy purposely avoids making eye contact in fear that he’ll be next.

The wall of ice can’t be anything more than five or six feet. He doesn’t know if they’re actually allowed to be up there, but there’s so many people doing the same thing that he’s not too worried.

He watches as a few people jump off of the wall into the fluffy layer of snow, vaguely listening to the conversations around him. He hears a mother hassling her children, and his ears perk up as he notices her muttering something along the lines of her not being able to afford buying them each a hot chocolate from the cabin that lays near the bottom of the mountain.

Percy doesn’t stop to think first, which is probably a mistake.

“I can buy it for you,” he interjects kindly, thrilled that he’s finally getting the chance to do something nice.

The mom looks at him, and it’s almost as though she’s appalled that he’s spoken to her. Percy shrinks back.

“I’m good,” she says.

“I don’t mind,” he continues, more nervous. “It’s only a couple dollars each, and—”

She holds a hand up. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Percy’s mind comes to a screeching halt. “What!? That’s not what I—”

“You’re going to tell me that you’re offering to pay twenty dollars and it’s not because you want to sleep with me?”

“No! I was just trying to do something nice for a stranger after my friend said—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snaps, already beginning to walk away from Percy. “Follow me and I’ll cut your dick off.”

It’s so shocking to him that he doesn’t even have time to respond before she’s already gone. He truly must have the worst luck because he’s just trying to create Christmas magic, and everyone seems to be doing the exact opposite of that.

Percy’s mouth gapes slightly, his brain still not comprehending what just happened. He’s only pulled out of the haze when someone snorts next to him.

He turns his eyes and catches a girl looking like she was smothering laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she says, laughter now bubbling out of her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a conversation go so wrong so quickly.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“Something she didn’t like, apparently.” She’s still giggling slightly, and Percy thinks it’s kind of cute. She’s shorter than him, and her nose has a red tint to it. He can see the puff of air each time she takes a breath, and she looks like she’s ready to go inside and curl into a ball for a nap.

“God. That’s embarrassing.”

“I got a front row seat to that show,” she says. “Why are you trying to do something nice, anyways?”

Percy is surprised that a stranger would want to talk to him after witnessing that, but he doesn’t mind. “My friend called me a horrible person and said I was going to hell.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not exactly what he said,” he admits, “but he might as well have. He’s dead to me.”

“And yet you’re still trying to please a stranger,” she says wryly.

“I don’t want to go to hell,” he whines, and she laughs softly.

“I’m sure you won’t go to hell. You might lose your genitalia, but you’re not going to hell.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” he says. The faint music in the background changes songs, and she rolls her eyes.

“This music is getting out of hand,” she says. “It’s like they’re trying to suffocate us in Christmas spirit.”

“It could be worse, don’t you think?”

“Is rather drown in eggnog than listen to another Christmas song.” She thinks for a moment, looking out into the distance off of the cliff of ice. “Can you promise to push me off this cliff if all I want for Christmas is youplays again?”

Percy chokes. “Push you off the cliff?”

“Yes, please.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“Nothing could hurt more than having my ears bleed to that song. I think it would be easier to simply die and get reborn as Santa’s slaves in the north pole.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Besides, this could be your chance to do something nice.”

“Does murder count as something nice?”

“In certain situations, maybe.”

Percy smiles, though he instantly regrets it when his teeth start to ache. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Annabeth,” she says.

“Percy,” he returns. “So before I get arrested for shoving you off a cliff, let me just make sure I’m hearing this right. You want me to push you off that ledge if Mariah Carey starts playing?”

“Exactly. You have my full permission.”

“Great,” he chokes out. They lock eyes and chuckle slightly at their own antics. Percy thinks someone calls his name from somewhere behind him, but he’s much preoccupied to turn around. Percy doesn’t think Annabeth would be someone to bully him, unlike some friends.

Percy thinks he should write a letter to Leo about his recent harassment. He thinks little rascals is a good baseline. It would start with, Dear Darla, I hate your stinking guts. You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. That’ll show him.

“Are you alone?” Annabeth asks kindly.

“I’m here with my friends, but I might as well be alone. They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

“You sure they’re your friends?”

“Eh. Not really,” he says, but he’s only kidding. He loves them dearly, even if they’re the worst people he has ever met. Leo in particular.

“Lovely,” she says. Her gloved hands reach up to move a strand of hair away from her mouth. The wind has started blowing harder, and it’s beginning to tangle her hair. “I’ll be your friend, then. I won’t bully you.”

“I hardly know you. How can I be sure you won’t bully me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

He wouldn’t mind sticking around, he thinks. Especially not with the way she’s looking at him, making him feel the urge to pull her in close and protect her from the biting winds.

As they continue talking, Percy can’t help but think that he likes her. He really like her, actually. She’s sweet and funny, always having something to quip back to him. He finds out soon that she lives quite close to him, and something in him screams to ask her if she wants to do something soon. He holds off on that, but he still can feel the way his heart threatens to pound out of his chest.

A sly grin forms on his face as he hears the change in music. It’s not a song that’s easy to miss, so it catches his ear immediately, and he is prepared.

“Hey, Annabeth.”

“What?”

“Guess what’s playing.”

She tilts her head as she listens to the music, and then she groans in annoyance. “Of course it is.”

“I promised to do something nice this Christmas.” She blinks. “You did.”

“I gotta do it to you.”

“Percy—”

“I made a promise,” he says, shrugging. He steps forwards, and she takes a step back, but there’s a wide grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare,” she threatens with zero malice in her voice.

“It’s my duty to you,” he says. “I don’t break my promises.” With that, he fulfils the gap between them, grabbing her in his arms by the waist and lifting her up. She wiggles in his grasp, letting her legs go limp, and she’s laughing until she can’t breathe.

Percy brings her to the ledge, his smile matching hers, and as he tries to drop her as gently as possible, she grabs on tighter and pulls, and he goes tumbling face-first into the snow with her.

He lands somewhat on top of her, and his face is buried surprisingly deep. He pulls his face out of the hole he’s dug, and when he looks at her, her head is thrown back as she lets out uncontrollable giggles. When she looks at him, it only gets worse.

“Your eyelashes are covered in snow,” she gasps, wiping carelessly at his face for him. She kicks him off of her lazily and leans back, looking up at the sky. “You ass.”

“I just did what you asked me to!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“But you’re alive, and I’ve done my good deed! We both win.”

She shakes her head at him, eyeing him is mock disappointment. “I change my mind. I am going to bully you.”

��You’d have to stick around long enough for that,” he reminds her.

“After you just tried to kill me? You bet I’m sticking around, if only for revenge.”

Percy pouts. “I’m so scared.”

“You better be because when I push you off a cliff, it isn’t going to be seven feet into snow.”

“At least I can die happy knowing that I did my good deed for the year.” Percy turns onto his size and gazes deeply into her eyes. Her eyes fit in perfectly to the scene around them, layers of white snow, barren trees in the distance, matching the grey sky above. He really does want to see her again, to find out if she’s as soft as she looks, if she’s as perfect for hugging as she seems, if she wants to kiss him as bad as he wants to kiss her.

He gets his answer when she says, “You haven’t finished your good deed quite yet.” Percy pretends to be oblivious. “Oh? What else do I need to do?”

She smiles in the perfect way he just knows he’s going to fall in love with. “Kiss me.”

He pulls her in close, both of them still laying in the snow, ice beginning to seep into their backs, and when he puts his lips to hers, she’s warm and sweet and perfect.

And when she pulls away to lock eyes with him before slamming his face back into the snow, he can’t even be mad. She’s cute, looking at him proudly, and he’s falling in love with this stranger on Christmas night.

,, courtesy of ash @silenabeth​

[doctorgerth]

Hello! Hope you’re having a wonderful day! Angst headcanons or a scenario (whichever is preferred) for Shanks meeting his daughter (who was a Whitebeard Pirate and dating Ace) during the Marineford Arc.

My morning has been wonderful so far dear, thank you for asking! I hope your day is wonderful as well. This was such a creative request, I really loved writing for it! Sorry to get this out to you so late, I hope you still enjoy x

WARNING: Contains spoilers if you are not past Marineford Arc 

*Posting under the cut, as it is a bit lengthy!

Shanks Meeting Daughter at Summit War

(Angst Scenario)

“Too Late”

“I think we’re too late, captain.”

Shanks dismissed Beckman’s warning with a shake of his head. This war had gone too far, it was time to end it before things truly became disastrous. Being notified of Ace and Whitebeard’s death, he instantly regretted not being there sooner, but he refused to turn around now. 

As his ship managed to arrive discreetly among the chaos, the crew scanned the damages. Bodies upon bodies lied, rotting in pools of blood that flowed down like a river into the ocean. The scent of dying carcasses permeated the air, a scent he knew too well, causing his gag reflex to kick for a second. He recognized a few pirates and crewmen with their Jolly Rogers. But one lone girl on the battlefield caught his attention above all else.

He’d recognize that hair anywhere; the burgundy waves were matted with blood, strands threatening to pull in every direction from stress and battle. Her ice pool eyes were dripping red-stained tears, but even from afar he could see the hope in them, shining bright like crystals - just like her mother’s always had. 

Shanks practically fell to his knees, much to the worry and confusion of his crew. What is she doing here? he mentally screamed in his head. Then he saw it, the purple cross bone that adorned her chest, visible from the rips of her tattered shirt. She was a Whitebeard pirate. 

Blood embellished her body so heavily the skin was beginning to stain, but she continued to fight relentlessly against the Marines. She was guarding something Shanks couldn’t quite see, until a man, another Whitebeard pirate, ran over to help her. That’s when Shanks saw the bloodied, gaping body of Portgas D. Ace lying on the ground with a slight smile on his face as she, the other pirate, and a few others fought with their own lives to protect him. 

I have to protect him! (Y/N) thought to herself as she clashed again and again with a particularly strong opponent. They’ll never touch you again, Ace, I’ll make sure of it! I’ll protect you until the end; it’s not too late! It can’t be…

“This has to end.“ Shanks announced to his crew, eliciting a few cheers and nods of eager agreement from them. The ship docked and at last Shanks was on ground. His feet threatened to trip underneath him as his legs shook like this was his first time on land. He was so nervous to see her again Surely she hated him with every fiber of her being. He would too. 

His eyes set on the red-head as his crew followed silently behind him, never questioning their captain. The people fighting seemed to grow still and quiet as the yonko made his path across the battlefield. 

The red-headed woman never questioned why the people around her began to falter in their fighting; she was too focused on protecting him from these monsters. When her own opponent caught eye of Shanks, she took this distraction as a vengeful opportunity. Her blade pierced easily into his heart, causing the Marine to bellow out one final cry as he fell face first into his own pool of blood; dead.

(Y/N) fell to her knees as she had at last reached her peak. She was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted from all the death and fighting. Shanks watched with bated breath as she crawled helplessly over to Ace’s body. Her arms wrapped around his torso and she began weeping into his hair while the battle raged on everywhere else around her. She could care less what happened to her now; maybe she could join Ace wherever he was. Anywhere was better than here.

”(Y/N).“ A voice called out in the deafening sound of battle cries; a voice she did not recognize, though she felt like she should, and that unsettled her. Her wet, stinging red eyes looked up to the man questioningly. Who was he? Why was he calling out her name so lovingly in the middle of a goddamn war? 

Then she recognized him: the red hair, the warm brown eyes, the familiarity of someone she longed for all her life, someone just right there out of reach. Seeing her father for the first time in years caused her to weep even harder. First her lover’s death, then her captain’s death, now the sudden appearance of her father who abandoned her so long ago? (Y/N) didn’t believe she could take much more after this. 

Tears stung his eyes as well as he watched his daughter cry helplessly, “You’ve been strong for so long, (Y/N)…”

“Don’t!” She interrupted, the sudden lash causing Shanks to fall back slightly, “You abandoned me and mother! You are the last person I want to see right now!” (Y/N) clutched onto Ace tighter. Though he was long gone, she could practically hear him chastising her for being so rude to her birth father. But she shook the thought from her head. Birth father or not, he was dead to her the moment he left her. Her true father had died only moments ago. Now, she was back to being the thing she feared most, unloved and fatherless.

“But a father is supposed to protect his daughter…”

“You were never my father, Shanks!” Saying his name startled the both of them. It was the first time in years since that name rolled off her lips. Shanks did not enjoy hearing her say it so spitefully, “Pops has been more of a father to me in the past fourteen years than you ever were for five months!" 

Shanks’ heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, the beating from so deep below causing him to feel nauseous. Years and years of regret and longing pooled at his eyes. It was true that he left town when (Y/N) was only five months old.  But what hurt the most was that she didn’t know about him visiting for her first ever birthday; and her second, and her third. 

He traveled through vast oceans and mighty storms just to join her mother and a few friends for his daughter’s birthdays. Of course she didn’t remember the doll he bought for her from a winter island he visited, or the pink conch shell he brought from the shores of that tropical island, or the barrels of candy he brought from an entire island made of candy! Of course she didn’t remember, she was too young to. He doubted her mother would have told her anyhow. She probably burned all the letters and postcards he sent for her following birthdays as well. She resented him, all in good reasoning.

He was young and selfish. His love for the adventurous and free ocean  outweighed his love for (Y/N)’s mother, unfortunately. He wanted to bring them along, but her mother refused. Despite the distance that was put between the family, he could never resent her for her choices.

"You were never there! Don’t pretend to be now, it’s too late!”

Her words hurt; sharper than any blade, deeper than any wound. But, they were his drive to fight. He was going to fight for these people, this world, his daughter. As long as he was alive and breathing, nothing was ever too late for Red-Haired Shanks.

“I wasn’t ready then!” His screaming confessional echoed in her ears, easily silencing the slashing of swords around her, “I was selfish, young, and foolish back then. No amount of ‘I’m sorry’ will make this better, I know. But stop fighting all alone for yourself and let someone else fight for you. Someone who will fight alongside you. I wasn’t ready for a child back then, but I’m ready now, (Y/N)! Doesn’t that mean something? Anything?” His hand trembled as it reached out to her, throwing all caution to the wind for everyone to see now. 

He knew trust wasn’t easily obtainable and if she were anything like him, the stubborness would just be another factor to overcome. He knew he could prevail though; he was determined to be a true family, he was going to be a loving and capable father. Seeing his own flesh and blood so weak, fragile, and broken made him want to prevent that from ever happening again. He vowed to protect and love her with his life. Though her eyes looked just like her mother’s, her contorted face and furrowed brows made (Y/N) look just like Shanks when he was younger and on the verge of giving up. He wasn’t going to let that happen

“I’m going to end this war.” Shanks stated as a final conclusion, “I want you wi- I want my daughter with me when I do that." 

She looked up at him hesitantly. Who was he to just show up out of nowhere after all this time? She knew he was a strong man, but could he really end this war? Could he really be a father to her after all this time? His hand continued to reach out, pleading for hers to grab it and join him. Her ears finally adjusted and the continuous rumble of screaming and crying made her realize this wasn’t going to end soon. His powerful aura may be their only hope. 

"You promise to end this?” She questioned, her eyes downcast to her lover’s dead body. 

“I promise. I promise to end this war and end my child’s suffering.” His eyes followed hers onto poor Ace’s lifeless being, “We will bury your lover and your captain." 

(Y/N)’s eyes shot open and she looked at Shanks, her mouth agape. The floodgates collapsed as she grasped onto his hand and he pulled her up and into his arms instantaneously. It was a warming hug, the kind of hug she longed for all her life. No hug from Ace or Whitebeard or any other man could ever compare to this long overdue hug from her father. Her true father.

He could hold her for years, for all the years he didn’t hug her. He’d do it all to make it up to her, but for now, he needed to do what was most important. Now having his daughter by his side, he knew he could do anything. He was already strong, but now, he was practically invincible

Beckman had warned earlier that they were too late, but looking at his daughter’s hopeful eyes, Shanks knew he had actually arrived just in time.

"Let’s end this together. Then you’re gonna come with me, (Y/N)! We’ll be a family again!”

[cats-obsessions]

Merry Christmas (Part 1)

Porter Gage/Female Sole Survivor

Summary: Overboss, Cathleen Winter, throws a Christmas Eve party and things get a little out of hand, prompting her to prepare a special surprise for Gage on their first Christmas working together.

Warnings: Part 1 contains mild violence. Feel free to skip to Part 2 if that bothers you! :)

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and Nuka World overboss Cathleen Winter was throwing a party to commemorate both the holiday and the taking of all five parks. It had been three months since the new boss had come to town, and everything was beginning to look better for the gangs; they had new land and increased income as Cat adjusted their tactics to more business like pursuits- mimicking those she used in past work for pre-war mobs.

Life was good.

Strands of Christmas lights hung from nearly every surface in the Fizztop Grille per the boss’ request, a large Charlie Brown Christmas tree that Gage helped her get was propped up in the corner. Bowls of punch, bottles of booze, and a variety of snacks laid out on the counters for the taking as a pitiful holiday buffet. Some bosses and several of each gang’s most trusted people scattered around the room, mostly keeping to their own factions. Others that helped or advised also enjoyed the party, including Shank and Maddox- a gang favorite.

Cat sighed as she scanned the crowd for Gage. She wouldn’t be surprised if he left already. He wasn’t a fan of people. Well, most people, anyways. The two of them had become exceedingly close over the months Cat had been there. She often felt like he was the only person in the Commonwealth that understood her.

Shank’s voice snapped Cat out of her thoughts “Hey Boss, you’re looking nice tonight.”

The petite woman was wearing a form fitting black dress with a slit up the side- one of her nicest dresses from her collection of preserved pre-war fashion.

“Oh, thanks” she said half heartedly. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I’m enjoying the view.” He responded, his words more noticeably slurred, stepping closer toward her.

Cat could feel the hairs on her neck stand on end, warning her to be cautious. She had a reputation as one not to be messed with, but she tried to remain cordial with others until they had misstepped far enough to warrant punishment.

She decided to test him. “The Park is nice at this time.”

“Yea? I could show you something nice.” He leaned toward her closer.

“Not interested. Beat it, jackass.” She said coldly, stiffening every muscle in her body, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of disgust and anger, unable to shake off the unavoidable sensation of fear that came with unwanted propositions.

“Oh come one, pretty girl.” Shank swayed slightly as he haphazardly stumbled forward, his grubby hand landing on her ass.

Instantly, Cat pushed the drunk man away from her forcefully. Like a blur, the next thing she saw was Gage’s fist connecting with Shank’s face. The force of the blow threw Shank to the ground, but he didn’t give up so easily. He lunged himself at Gage and the two exchanged blows in an aggressive competition for dominance. As Gage was landing more punches than he was receiving, Cat stood back and watched. She was no stranger to gangs, even if raiders functioned differently than mobsters, this wasn’t something she should interrupt without due cause, so she feined calmness.

It wasn’t until Shank was on the ground with bloodied mouth that he pulled out a large knife from his boot.

“I’ll fucking kill you for that.” He spat, blood dripping down his mouth.

At that, Cat decided to step in. She was quick to kick him back and plant the heel of her boot on his wrist, pinning his wrist to the ground, causing him to drop the knife from pain.

Shank cried in pain. “Let me go, bitch!”

Gage caught on and dove to restrain the smaller man’s other arm in the same way before he could grab Cat.

She retrieved the knife,quickly plunging it into Shank’s hand and pinning him to the floor. He screamed in pain.

“You made three big mistakes tonight. Your biggest mistake was that you thought you could take advantage of me. Then, you fucking touched me!” She reached out to Gage, taking the knife he always kept on his boot and stabbing it into Shank’s other hand. The man cried out again. “Maybe I would’ve taken a few fingers for that and let you live, but no- you threatened Gage.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please-“ He sputtered as blood began to pool on the ground.

“I bet you are. Good news, I’m feeling generous.” She pulled the knives from his wounds.

“Porter, that’s enough” she signaled to Gage to step back, which he did.

Cat grabbed Shank by his collar and heaved him to his feet with Gage’s knife to his throat as a silent threat to cooperate. She pushed him backward to the outdoor elevator and pressed the call button, beginning its slow ascent to the grille.

“Consider your treatment merciful.”

Cat stepped back before kicking Shank off the ledge, his body falling through the air before impacting the half raised elevator with a heavy thud.

She smirked to herself, turning to face the group of quiet onlookers. Mason was smiling wildly, while Mags and William looked content- which was as good as she could expect from them. Nisha was irritated as always, probably angry there wasn’t more blood, but Cat could care less.

“Parties over. You can get the fuck out of my place now.” She said forcefully.

When everyone was slow to move, Gage piped up “You heard the Boss, get out!”

Everyone was quick to leave after that while Cat stood and watched, Gage’s bloodied knife still in her hand. She knew Shank wasn’t dead; the fall hadn’t been enough for that and wounds like his could heal, but it was enough of a show to assert her dominance in the park- a constant battle with the bloodthirsty raiders.

Mason was sure to pass her on his way out. “Very nicely handled, Boss.” He muttered. “Though, you gotta give Shank some credit- at least he wasn’t too chicken to try and get what he wants… unlike Gage.”

“What is that supposed to mean!?” Cat hissed. Gage didn’t want her position, if that’s what Mason was implying. She was sure of that.

“We all see the way he looks at ya. I can practically smell the pheromones.” Mason chuckled before sauntering off with the rest of his gang. Cat only rolled her eyes in response.

Once the doors were shut, Gage’s eyes locked on her.

“You okay, Boss?”

“I’m fine, Porter. You?” She said quietly.

“I’m good.”

They both washed up quietly, removing the blood from their hands, and Cat cleaning Gage’s knife. She noticed the abrasions on his knuckles.

“Sit down” she said, motioning for the couch as she pulled out a medical kit from under the kitchen counter.

The two sat on the couch as Cat glanced over Gage’s injuries.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just a lousy fist fight.”

“You got hurt because of me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Gage smirked at her response. “It’s in my job description.”

“Regardless- thank you... It means a lot to me.” She said softly.

Cat reached up to the cut and bruise on Gage’s face. She placed her hand gently on his cheek and ran her thumb gently over the cut. She couldn’t help but notice the freckles that’s speckled his face or the crimson color spreading across his cheeks.

She knew that if Mason was right, her only hope for discovering Gage’s true feelings was to make a move herself. 

* * *

Part 2 here

[perlocutionary]

Morning Glory pt. 5 - The Maze Runner - Thomas au

Description: Based off the original story of The Maze Runner, where Y/N has been around a long time and she and Thomas might be the key out of here. I have my own take on this, I have used particular things from the movie/books but a lot I did change for this story! Relationship: Thomas x Reader - THE MAZE RUNNER

Title:  A posse ad esse. Word count: 2783

A/N: This part plays around the part where the bonfire takes place, although of course in a different mindset and universe setting. I couldn’t help but wanting a cute moment between Newt and Y/N, because come on, Thomas Brodie-Sangster? Yes. You know what I mean. Also, this chapter contains actual sex. 

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 Part 6

The bonfire is already in full swing. I’ve sent Thomas off with Chuck, which left me to take a shower on my own and get ready in my room alone with my thoughts, something I desperately needed. After my shower, I simply laid down on my bed, closing my eyes, while memories of Rebecca and Isabella flooded through my mind. Every single time we pranked one of the boys, every time we’d sit by the bonfire and talk – boys of course – were something that seemed ages ago. How I missed them.

I didn’t register the soft knock or the door to my room opening, until my bed dipped. I expected to see Alby, trying to talk me out of having this bonfire even though there was not stopping it mid-party, to yell at me or whatever, but was surprised by Newt smiling down at me as his fingertips brush over my lower arm.

“It wasn’t – and never will be your fault, Y/n. They wanted to do so, and you only gave their blessing. They knew what they got into the second they crossed the Doors. You did everything you could for anyone in the Glade and everyone respects you for that. You’ve always done the best thing.” He smiles, squeezes my skin and I feel tears start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He probably realized I was having a slow day earlier, but didn’t want to sit down and talk with Thomas and Chuck there. And I should thank him for that, because neither would I.

“I know. But it doesn’t take away the guilt that gnaws on me the second I open my eyes in the morning.” I sigh, letting my eyes droop closed again while I fish for Newt’s hand with my fingers. He pinches my fingers, bringing them up to his lips to place a kiss upon them.

“There’s nothing I can do for you except continuously remind you that I’m here for you, if you need to talk.” He does remind me of that, at least once a week. His glances, the soft touches and the words leaving his lips are also, without a doubt, to keep me from harm’s way. Although being here, surrounded by death, I would’ve never thought that harm could come from my own damn mind.

“Well I could use a good cuddle just about now.” I peek an eye open, smiling mischievously at the blonde as he raises his eyebrows in pure mock. “Won’t Thomas get jealous?” “Ha. Very amusing.” I breathe as Newt leans over me and drops behind me on the bed, his arm thrown around me leisurely as I feel his hot breath fan against my neck. “Is there something changed between us?” I whisper, hoping I’d receive no for an answer. Newt breathes out, his chin suddenly resting on my shoulder before he speaks.

“Never will. But I’d rather not be beaten up by Thomas because I’m the best cuddler in the Glade.” The last parts leave his lips to heartily, with the slightest hint of a chuckle, that I elbow him in the ribs and laugh loudly.

“Unbelievable. Even if, and I am saying if, Newt…” I start, my head snapped back to look him dead in the eye. “Something were to happen between Thomas and I, you’d still be my best friend, and I’d still expect you to cuddle with me – because honestly, it’s the best and most relaxed time in all of the Glade. I’m glad you’re here, really.”

“Glad you’re still here too Y/n. And glad my body warmth can be of service.” He chuckles again, dropping onto his back and pulling me with him. Both of us staring up at the ceiling, arms crossed over our chests as silence envelops the confined space. Laughter, music and the crackling of firewood is heard in the back ground, but I pay no attention to it.

“I do have to ask though, Y/n. I’m just a curious lad…” Newt suddenly speaks and I hum in return, ushering him to continue. “Did you and Thomas - ?”

Thankfully, I don’t have to answer that as my door bursts open, revealing a shadow illuminated by the fire. “There you are. Come on love birds, time to join the festivities.” Minho’s voice echoes, his hands tapping the door frame to usher us to hurry up. I groan, pushing myself up and off the bed as Newt follows my motions.

What I didn’t expect is to see Thomas standing behind Minho, scowl set deeply onto his features as he stares me down. I glance over my shoulder at Newt and see him already smirking at me, wiggling his eyebrows in a silent I told you so.

I roll my eyes as I arrive in front of Minho and push him in one fluid, swift motion, forcing him to stumble back. “You’re just jealous, Min. You’re desperate for one of Newt’s cuddle-and-talk sessions.” A loud, boisterous laugh sound from behind me and I see Newt clutching the door frame, bend over in laughter. I laugh along, I can’t help myself, as Minho stares blankly at me.

“I – I –“ Minho starts but I hold up my hand to shut him up as I let my gaze fall onto Thomas. “Don’t bother love, I’ve found out your dirty little secret.” I take a step closer to Thomas, my hand raising to slightly let my fingertips ghost over his abdomen. He doesn’t retreat, but the scowl never leaves his features either. A frown settles onto mine, my tongue darting out to lick my lips.

“You aren’t jealous too, are you, Tommy? I’d rather see you flustered than scowling at me.” I press my lips against his chin, tapping his chest with my hand before I back away. The scowl immediately dissipates and his eyes cloud over. I wink once, throwing a look over my shoulder towards Newt who’s shaking his head at me with his tongue poking out. A simple shrug of my shoulders makes him laugh again before I jog over to the bonfire.

“Ah, there she is! Woman of the hour. Here you go, babe.” Gally grins at me as he hands me my own mason jar filled with moonshine, a bright grin on my lips as I take it from him. Suddenly, a chorus of voices echo through the otherwise silent Glade. “Speech. Speech. Speech.” My eyes widen and I shake my head fervently before Gally smirks and pushes me towards a log nearby.

“I thought you shanks had learnt how horrid I am at speeches, but here we go.” Laughter breaks out here and there, and I grasp Minho’s outstretched hand to crawl onto the log behind me, raising me above everyone.

“A lot has happened in the past months, and there’s only one thing I can really say. Thank you, to every single one of you, for what you did. For your support, a laugh, a smack to the head,” I pause momentarily, glaring at Minho who raises his hands in defence, “whenever I, or someone else needed it. I know it’s been hard. On all of us. But, I know, that if we work together, function as a family and treat each other as one… We can make it out. We can find a solution to this. A posse ad esse. From possibility to actuality.” I raise my mason jar as high as my short arms will let me, hollers coming from all around the Glade. I grasp Minho’s shoulder again to crawl off the log, jumping down with a hollow thud.

“I’m pretty sure you were some sort of spokesperson in your former life.” Newt smiles at me as he pats me on the back, eyes scanning over the Glade happily chatting and having a great time. “I’m certain I wasn’t. I almost shit myself every time. I swear to god.” As I laugh, the boys laugh along and my gaze catches Thomas again. He was silent, curious gaze flickering over the Glade and everyone enjoying themselves.

I squeeze my way through the males and come to a halt besides Thomas, holding my jar out for him to take. “At least try some. It’s really good.” He glances down at the yellow coloured liquid, back to me, as he furrows his eyebrows. He takes the jar without a second thought and gives it a sniff.

“Smells like shit.” A chuckle passes my lips, holding my hands out to the fire to warm them up. “Tastes like it too. But it gets you drunk, and that’s fun. So, go on then.” I motion for him to take a sip, watching Thomas scrunch up his nose as he shakes his head. “You just said it was really good.” “You don’t think I’d tell you it tastes like shit before even offering you some? No one would’ve tried it then.” I let my gaze fall on Chuck, Minho, Alby and Newt. All laughing about something, not a care in the world. Even Alby seems to loosen up, which is a primal indication for me the bonfire was a great idea; everyone had been on edge lately. It was time to take some load off.

A splutter from besides me lets me know Thomas has dared to take a sip. I let my hand rest on small of his back, watching him cough as I take the jar from him. His hand trails from my shoulder, down to rest on my ass. He glances at me, followed by a tentative squeeze as I feel my cheeks heat up.

“Thomas, I – “ I swallow loudly, taking a step closer. Our gazes are locked, his tongue wetting his lips as his gaze flickers over my entire face. His back is towards the other Gladers, both his hands cupping my ass as he leans down.

“Not here… Later.” I whisper breathlessly, using all my strength to push the man off me. His lips had just grazed my neck and the goose bumps cover my flesh instantly. Thankfully, Chuck came to my rescue, distracting Thomas enough for me to get my head out of the gutter.

The Gladers had left the bonfire and traded it in for a good night’s rest, leaving the Keepers and a few scattered Gladers to mull around the bonfire. Alby and Newt were ushering them to finish up and head to bed for the night, so we could clean up and head in ourselves.

Minho motions for me to get up and help and I nod before abruptly standing up, Thomas raising beside me. “Meet me in my room in an hour, yeah?” I whisper, my hand cupping his jaw before I let it slide down his arm and I grasp his hand in mine, stepping away and letting go when there’s too much distance between us. Not sure if I might regret this later.

I’m pacing through my room as I wait for Thomas to show up. It’s been well over an hour, and maybe he had fallen asleep. I’m riled up – and I’m not sure if it’s because I shouldn’t even invite him into my room or if it is because I’m nervous for what I had implied.

The door opens so quietly I wouldn’t have noticed it if the last bits of the bonfire hadn’t illuminated the strip of light Thomas let in. He doesn’t speak, just takes a few steps closer, stopping at arm’s length. “What’s on your mind?” Thomas whispers his question, his fingertips ghosting over my skin, setting it aflame.

“Banishment.” Because that’s what I was facing if anyone entered here at this moment. Thomas doesn’t say anything, his touch faltering as his arms drop back at his side. “Should I leave?” “I don’t want you to.”

This time, I take a step forward and cup his neck. I bring him down, pressing my lips against his, letting my eyes flutter closed at the contact. His hands land on my waist, pulling me against his lean body while his tongue swipes along my bottom lip. I take a step back, pulling Thomas along with me, my hands already sliding his shirt up his body.

Thomas breaks our kiss to pull his shirt over his head, his hands immediately finding my neck again and pulling me in for another kiss. I let my hands wander, wanting to explore every inch of his toned stomach, as a low moan slips from my lips to be swallowed by Thomas’.

His hands work on ridding me of my shirt while he pushes me closer towards my bed. I lay down, watching Thomas’ shadow standing over me through the small window in my room, his chest heaving before he drops on the bed, hovering over me.

His lips ghost over my stomach as he pulls my pants down my legs ever so slowly, tossing them next to the bed once they’re off. He doesn’t say anything, simply stares, while raising to his feet and tossing his own trousers to the floor in a hollow thud.

Within a second he’s hovering over me again, my back arching off the bed again to catch his lips with mine. Our hands wander, lips clashing against one another. Breathless, low moans leave my lips as my hands roam over his back, the palms of my hands pressing against his ass, his hardon pressing into my clothed core.

A grunt leaves Thomas’ lips, breaking our kiss. His face is hidden in my neck, his pants sending shivers along my spine. Thomas unclasps my bra as I push his boxers down as far as I can reach. When he sits up on his knees, his large hands trail along my thighs, resting at my knees, propped up from the bed, as he pushes his boxers off completely. My knickers are soon to follow, leaving us completely bare in the dark.

Thomas finds my lips again, his erect member resting between my legs. No words have to be spoken, both of our bodies moving along each other as he enters. A breathless sigh leaves my lips, my head thrown back against my only pillow, Thomas’ lips attached to my neck.

“Oh, Tommy…” I breathe, my fingers coursing through his hair at the nape of his neck. He takes his time, his pace leisure and exploring, hips rolling against mine in a sinful manner. The tiniest of chuckles leaves his lips, pressing against my jawline before he pushes himself up on his hands, interlocking our gazes.

He snaps his hips abruptly, causing my mouth to fall open and a gasp to leave my lips. Thomas licks his lips, picking his experimental thrusting and it sends my mind reeling. I can feel myself nearing an orgasm and I dig my fingertips in Thomas’ shoulder blades. He seems to understand and moves his rhythm up the slightest bit, his hips rolling against mine as his lips leave hot, opened mouthed kisses along my neck and jaw, before landing back on mine.

As it crashes over me, Thomas swallows any sounds I might make. I’m left a panting mess, every muscle in my body tingling from the sensation. Thomas is still chasing his own orgasm, his thrust becoming sloppy as he pants against my neck.

A few tentative licks and open-mouthed kisses reveal his sweet spot on his neck. I sink my teeth into the tender flesh, pressing my naked breasts against his chest to send him over the edge. His body drops onto mine like dead weight, momentarily knocking the wind out of me.

When he has regained his breath, he rolls off me, his arm draped over his eyes. I can still see his heart hammering in his chest as I inch closer to him, nestling against his sweaty, burning frame.

“Tommy?” I whisper, pressing my lips against his shoulder as my hand rests on his chest. He lifts his arm, taking a peek at me as a grin forms. “Yeah?” “Nothing.” I don’t even know what I wanted to say. Maybe I was scared he had already felt as if it were a mistake. I would never voice that thought aloud though.

“Do you want me to leave?” He mumbles, turning on his side, his pointer finger trailing shapes onto my stomach – his name. “Please don’t.” I smile at his, catching his lips with mine in a simple, yet igniting kiss. His flat hand rests on my stomach, pulling me flush against him while he snuggles into my neck. “Good.”

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