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phantom-ellie · 2 years

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Temet Nosce Chapter 3: I should have left you on that Spanish Vessel where you were Hanging

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A paper doll, sure. A silly joke, but one headed for the mouth of the whale, and Stede tells himself it's about rescuing Ed but somehow he knows it's actually himself. He can almost feel himself becoming less transparent, returning to flesh. A pathetic joke, a source of entertainment for sure. The crew around him laughs. He knows they're laughing at him.

He's wrong, though. Through his silly puppet dancing and the sad mewling and bright, painted smiles masking the incompleteness of the carving below them, Stede has cultivated something. There is a secret garden blooming on the vessel he seeks to reclaim. The man of the hour, the day, the month doesn’t know it, but he is heading towards nabatea, ad meliora.

“Hey, Ivan! I-van!” Ivan looks up at Fang in the crow’s nest, holding a telescope.

“What is it, Fangie?” Fang closes his lips together in a nervous line and hurriedly beckons with his hand.

“Not in front of the others!”

“Why, what don’t you want us to see, capullos?”

“Shit, Jim, you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that.” Ivan rubs the back of his neck nervously. Since the… unfortunate separation of the crew, Jim has taken to stalking the ship like a malevolent forest spirit, and Ivan hates forest spirits. They make his nose ache.

Jim does what Jim is wont to do and twirls their knife threateningly.

“Whatever you tontos del culo have to say to each other you can say to me.”

Ivan has nothing against Jim. He has nothing against the rest of the crew, really. He is loyal to Blackbeard, sure, but he is beginning to suspect that the Captain has gone a bit too far this time, isn’t quite right in the head.

Fang shrugs his shoulders. “Aw, Jim, don’t worry about it, don’t need to get mad at us like that-”

“It’s Stede! It’s the crew!” Frenchie points out at the water and is practically dancing a jig, his voice the loudest stage whisper imaginable. Jim runs to the edge of the ship and strains to see. There they are, all fifty of them, or however many, piled on top of each other in the dinghy, moving about and jostling so much Jim is surprised they haven’t capsized. It is hard to tell them all apart, they are so far away, but Jim sees a hand shoot into the air and stay there, as if to acknowledge that they are being watched. That Stede fucking Bonnet is being watched.

“Fuck!” Jim growls.

“Fuck yeah!” Frenchie cheers as quietly as he can manage, fist pumping the air.

“Oh god, here we go again.” That’s Ivan.

“Oh man, Izzy is gonna be so mad,” Fang starts the climb down from the crow’s nest, hunching his shoulders like the world’s most resigned teddy bear. What he doesn’t say is how happy everyone else will be to have them all back.

Jim whips around and points the dagger at Ivan’s face.

“You’d better let them board,” they say through clenched teeth. Ivan lifts his hands up in surrender.

“I don’t have no beef with any of that lot, but it’s Captain and Izzy that call the shots around here, you know that.”

“Hey! Do you think he can fix him? Blackbeard? Make things nice again?” Fang huffs as he continues his climb down.

Ivan looks at Fang. He turns back to Jim. Then he gives a side-eye to Frenchie. Finally, he rests his palms on the edge of the ship and sighs.

“Aw, hell.”

***

Izzy. He looks at his own reflection in the knife he’s holding. Izzy. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe that’s been the problem all along. Maybe that’s why I don’t get the respect I deserve. Couldn’t be Israel, no, had to go with a cute nickname. Fucking Fang has a scarier nickname than I do, and he’s jolly as a fucking creampuff. Izzy Hands is, to no one’s surprise, brooding. His toe hurts. Well, the place where the toe would have been if he hadn’t shat out said toe three days ago hurts. That was an unpleasant experience, but it was the kind of unpleasant experience that happens to be quite pleasant for Izzy- uh, Israel.

For a moment, he casts a pensive look up at the ceiling above the bunk where he is sitting.

Is that fucked up? Is it fucked up that I take pleasure from being abused? Isn’t it possible that this pleasure-from-pain experience is linked to some form of childhood traum-

Frenchie, master of subterfuge and distraction, bursts into the room, and Izzy loses that train of thought forever.

“Izzy! Izzyyyyyy,” Frenchie holds out both hands palms up like he’s about to ask a huge favor.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“You know, um, I’ve just been thinking about what a hard worker you are and all, and I just wanted to come down here and thank you-”

“What. did. you. do?” There are so many clenched teeth on this vessel that they might have to bring a dentist on board.

“Oh, nothing! Nothing. I just know you’ve been down, ‘cause of… the foot? You know?” Frenchie widens his eyes above his obviously nervous smile and sort of thrusts his hands towards the foot as if to say, that’s definitely a thing that exists in this location.

“My foot is fine. What are you trying to do?” Izzy gets up off his bunk and starts limping forward.

“No!” Frenchie throws out his hands again. “No, don’t move! There’s no need to move at all! Just stay there-”

“Get out of my way,” Izzy sticks out an arm to shove Frenchie aside, whose mind instantly goes white as a clap of lightning as his instinct kicks in.

He does what he has to do. He stomps on Izzy’s injured foot as hard as he can.

“Aaaaughhhh! You fucking-”

“Sorry! Sorry, it was an accident! Why don’t you just-” The knife comes out and Izzy lunges at Frenchie, who quickly evades it and backs towards the door.

“No need for that, really,” Frenchie whimpers with a hint of hysteria, quickly casting an eye towards the Lair of the Kraken, which is really where Stede used to sleep but Frenchie doesn’t think he’d appreciate it much right now. Oh, he’s gonna be so pissed. Please don’t hear, please don’t hear.

“I will flay you alive, you-” as Izzy hobbles towards Frenchie menacingly, Frenchie has a choice to make. He can return to the deck, or brave the Lair. Thankfully his self-preservation kicks in and he books it towards his friends, turning around to blow an ultra-mature raspberry.

***

Stede had been the first to board. He had expected a wave of raging hot ire to descend upon him. He wanted to take the brunt of it. It was his fault, after all. The pain between him and Ed was like an invisible line of fire that linked them in their pain and misery, burning anyone who haplessly stumbled into its path. Stede expected a sword to the gut, and wasn’t afraid, because he knew he wouldn’t feel it above the white-hot burning that was already there.

Instead of the sword, he had been offered a friendly hand by Ivan and was asked to wait patiently so the others could follow him. Thus Stede sees the first hints of his garden, in flore, as he raises his head in greetings to Jim while Fang claps a happy hand on his shoulder.

Now he stands awkwardly by the ladder, welcoming his family home.

“There you go, welcome back Buttons, Olivia-”

“It’s good to be aboard, cap’n.”

“Watch your step, Oluwande, there you go, see there’s Jim right there, safe and sound, off you two go… Up and at ‘em, Black Pete! I haven’t seen Lucius yet but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. No, Roach, I don’t know if anyone messed with your good knives. Swede, yes, maybe stand over there and dust yourself off a little, you’re covered in- Hurry it up, Wee John, we have a ship to take! No, I don’t know where Frenchie is but apparently he’s safe.”

Stede begins to try on his captain persona again, to be who these people need him to be, to be the man who reads them stories and encourages them. To begin the performance. But God, he’s tired of the performance. He needs to be himself, to demand to be accepted as himself, because he can’t live in this weird performative skin anymore. He just can’t.

But the crew can’t read his mind, and therefore Fang grabs him around the shoulders.

“Captain, you gotta help us. You gotta talk some sense into him!”

“Who, Izzy? That probably won’t work.”

“No! Blackbeard! He’s making it miserable for everyone! Fix him!”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Fang, just take care of the crew. I’ll make things right.” Stede suddenly realizes that throughout this conversation there has been a mounting roaring sound, getting louder and louder until he stands up straight to figure out its source. Not two seconds later he becomes enlightened, as Frenchie runs out onto the deck followed by a mad, spitting, angry ferret.

“Hi Captain! Sorry Captain!” Frenchie bolts straight past him like a World War I soldier trying to outrun a frag grenade.

The ferret stops when he hits the deck and the roaring is cut off in a wet sputter of rage.

“You.” Izzy the ferret waves his knife in Stede’s general direction. “How the fuck did you get on my ship?”

“I climbed the ladder, dickhead! Let me talk to Ed!”

He needs this to be over with. He can only hold onto the adrenaline for so long.

“I’ll slit your fucking throat-”

“Qué cabrón!” Izzy is interrupted by Jim, who smashes their boot into his hand and sends the dagger flying.

“Aaaugh, you-” Fang tackles Izzy to the ground with a crunch.

“Sorry, Iz. I mean, I’m a little sorry, honest, but not too sorry.” Ivan sort of dances around his apology as he stuffs a gag in Izzy’s mouth before reaching up to take a coil of rope from Frenchie.

“Wow. So much for loyalty.” Black Pete has his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised.

“We’re pirates!”

“Okay, okay! I’ve just never watched a mutiny from this end.”

Watching Izzy struggle in vain sends an initial wave of relief through Stede’s torso. It was so easy. They did it for me. They want me back, they love me.

Killing with kindness actually works. Stede isn’t a fucking lunatic.

This relief lasts only a few moments however, as the door to the deck bursts open. A thunderclap hit’s Stede’s heart. This is him, isn't it? A dark wave flowing out onto the floor of the deck. A black cloud. A trio of tentacles grasping towards Stede's neck.

“Izzy, what the fuck is the fucking commotion up here-”

And there he is. The love of Stede’s life, drunkenly staggering onto the deck. He’s swaying a bit as he takes the last few gulps of what has to be his third bottle of rum. Stede's breath catches in his throat as Ed looks him dead in the eyes. The bottle of rum just hovers there.

And in seeing that kohl-smeared, inebriated Demon King, something drops from the top of Stede’s brain down to the floor, only to curl upon itself and rise through his legs and up through his arm and shoot out of the top of his head like a geyser, a mélange of adrenaline, courage, and wanting. His shoulders straighten. His chin rises a couple of inches. Stede Bonnet looks Edward Teach dead in the eyes as everything else threatens to roll right out of his body and crash upon the deck.

“You. You and I need to have a talk.”

Death it is.

He expects Ed to throw the bottle at his head. He expects Ed to rage and challenge him to a duel. He expects Ed to take out his pistol and shoot a hole through Stede’s torso. He expects Ed to throw a knife at his face. He expects Ed to collapse onto his knees, tears streaming down his face. He expects Ed to stride forward and bend Stede backwards in a kiss.

Instead he hears the groans of the crew as Ed pitches forward and spews three bottles of rum onto the deck.

Stede sighs.

“I guess I just have that effect on people.”

Romance is dead. It will happen the hard way.

Chapter 4

#Our Flag Means Death #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #our flag means death fanfic #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #stede x ed #cross posted on ao3 #ellie golden age #stede bonnet #ellie tn

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whumpcereal · 2 years

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behavior modification, part nine

<previous, masterlist here!

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @aut0psy-s, @reflected-pain, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf (let me know you if you'd like to be added!)

content warnings for: noncon touch, implied future noncon, CSA mention (again, very veiled), forced nudity, reflections on past abuse, adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, dehumanization, muzzles, collars, restraints, humiliation, weird feeding behavior (I have no idea how to tag this)

part nine, breakfast time

“Did you sleep well, sweet boy?”

Jack blinks, his eyes still gritty with sleep. No, he did not sleep well. How could he? If he ever gets out of here, he’s never putting Carl in that fucking crate ever again.

When he gets out of here. He will. He has to.

“I asked you a question, Jackie,” Ivan coos. He bends down and ruffles Jack’s hair, and Jack recoils. His shoulder blades bump against the crate door, and he hisses beneath the muzzle. Ivan chuckles. “Oh, that’s right. I suppose you can’t answer me.” His thumb grazes over the leather that traps Jack’s lips.

Jack can’t make himself look up. Looking down isn’t so great either–it’s a reminder of just how exposed he is–but at least looking at his own bruised knees is better than looking at Ivan’s smug fucking face.

“Today,” Ivan says coolly, “is about establishing our routine. This, after all, is the first day of the rest of your life, isn’t it?”

Jack feels a chill run all the way to his bowels. He grunts beneath the bit.

Ivan kneels down in front of him, key in hand. He gently detaches Jack’s wrists from his collar, and he takes one of Jack’s hands, rubbing it between both of his own. Jack flinches as the pins and needles prickle at his flesh, but he’s grateful; he doesn’t feel it when Ivan presses his lips to his palm.

“Contrary to what you might think, you’re not a prisoner here.” Ivan takes up Jack’s other hand. “You’re an important collaborator, aren’t you? So, I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.” Another kiss.

Jack swallows bile. He tries to draw back, but Ivan seizes his hand so tightly that Jack can feel his bones shift.

“We’ll begin with breakfast.” Ivan’s voice is light, but his grip on Jack’s hand is like iron. “I’m sure you’re hungry. And it’s important that we keep you fed and watered, or it will be very hard for you to concentrate on your training, won’t it? We don’t want any confounding variables affecting our research.”

Jack groans behind the muzzle, and Ivan releases his hand. He cocks his head at Jack.

“You look tired, darling.”

Then his thumbs are digging at Jack’s eyes, clearing away the sleep. Jack tries to raise his arms, to push Ivan away, but they’re still heavy and slow. Ivan catches his wrists, and he smiles, like Jack is a little child who’s done something naughty.

“Don’t, Jackie. You know what I’ll have to do, if you don’t cooperate.”

Ivan leans forward, nipping gently at the flesh just above Jack’s collar. He smells like he’s just showered, some kind of musky soap that makes Jack feel dizzy. No! Jack tries to protest, but the sound is trapped in his throat.

He feels Ivan laugh against his skin. “You don’t like that, do you? We’ll work on that.”

Jack shakes his head, and Ivan laughs again.

“You still think you have a say, don’t you? Oh, Jackie. That’s over now. I’ll be making all the decisions from here on out. And I’ve told you: it’s breakfast time.”

Ivan grabs the leash from the top of the crate and clips it on to Jack’s collar again. He smiles.

“You really are a pretty little puppy, you know?”

Pretty. Jack’s cheeks burn, but he lets himself be led toward the table. His arms and shoulders ache under his own weight. He wants to stand. He needs to. Surely, he’ll have to, in order to sit at the table. But, as Jack shifts his weight, Ivan wraps the leash around his fist and stops him short.

“Now, pets aren’t usually permitted to eat at the table. I’m sure you didn’t invite your Carl to jump up and eat with you.”

Jack snarls, and the sound reminds him very much of Carl. Ivan only laughs and pats him on the head.

“At mealtimes, you’ll kneel here.”

He secures the other end of the leash to one of the eyelets beneath the table. Jack stays on his hands and knees. He won’t kneel. He’s not Ivan Peters’ pretty little puppy. But Ivan laughs again, and then his hands wrap around Jack’s hips, forcing them down. He slides one hand over Jack’s belly, pressing Jack back against him, and uses the other to reach under the table and pull the leash further through its metal loop. When Ivan lets him go, Jack barely has enough slack to move his head. If he shifts from his knees, he’ll strangle.

“I enjoy a challenge, Jackie,” Ivan says, his voice husky. He nibbles at Jack’s neck again, this time, worrying the skin until it stings. When Jack hisses, Ivan bears down, sucking hard.

Bill used to do that. He would mark Jack each time they were together. So that you remember who you belong to, sweet boy. He wonders if Ivan knows. He might. Ivan knows so much more about Jack than he should.

Ivan pulls away, thumbing at the fresh mark he’s left behind. “It suits you.”

Jack tries to drop his head, but the leash holds him at attention. Ivan grins and slides his hands down Jack’s arms, forcing them behind his back and locking them together.

“For now, you will not have the use of your hands,” Ivan whispers in Jack’s ear.

He drops a kiss to Jack’s bare shoulder before taking the skin between his teeth again, coaxing another wine dark bruise to flower. Jack moans. Ivan releases him with a wet smack of his lips.

“But I will take the muzzle off, darling. If you don’t want it replaced with something worse, you’ll keep quiet and take what you’re given. Do you understand?”

Jack can’t nod, but he certainly understands. He’s well aware of what Ivan could use to stop his mouth. He can feel it pressing against his back.

He shivers.

“Good boy.” Ivan grins and rises behind him. “Now, you wait here. I’ll go and get your breakfast. Aren’t you a lucky boy, being waited on hand and foot?”

And then Ivan actually fucking leaves. He keys in the code to the steel door and disappears up the stairs.

Wait here. Like Jack has any other choice. He shifts backward, just a little, and the collar resists, rubbing against what he’s starting to realize is raw flesh. Fantastic. But still, he’s grateful for the pain. It makes him feel a little less guilty about the tears gathering at the back of his eyes. He’s crying because his collar is too tight. It’s not because he’s losing his fucking mind.

Three days ago, life was normal. He talked to Joe. He made the bed. He walked Carl. He cleaned the house. He danced in the kitchen. He didn’t know–he would have paid more attention if he’d known those hours were his last.

He shouldn’t have let himself get so comfortable. It was stupid, to believe that life would ever truly belong to him. He doesn’t deserve it.

Jack hears Bill’s voice in his head. You were made for this, sweet boy. This is what you deserve.

He’s still crying when Ivan comes back, plate in hand.

“Miss me already?” Ivan smirks.

Jack squeezes his eyes shut. There is the soft clatter of the plastic plate against the steel table, and Jack feels Ivan settling in close to him. Fingers fidget with the padlock, and then the muzzle is pulled away. Jack can’t close his mouth, just like before, but the basement air is deliciously cool on his clammy skin.

“I brought you something soft,” Ivan says. “I’m sure your jaw is tired. You’ll have to get used to that, won’t you?”

Jack shakes his head. “I won’t–”

“Ah, ah, ah, Jackie. Don’t make me remind you already.” Ivan taps the remote in his pocket, and Jack swallows his protestations. Ivan nods his approval. “That’s right. Keep quiet, sweet boy. It will be much easier for you if you do.”

Ivan grabs the plate from the table. Jack smells sulfur. Eggs, then. It’s better than fucking Alpo.

But then, Ivan pinches at the rubbery scrambled eggs with his fingers. He drops the eggs into his palm and stretches it out to Jack.

Jesus, the guy expects Jack to eat from the literal palm of his hand.

“Go on,” Ivan says. “Eat.”

Jack blinks. He tries to shake his head. The leash rattles, and his skin chafes.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Please,” Jack says softly. He looks at the yellow lumps in Ivan’s hand, and he thinks he might be sick. “I–I can’t.”

Ivan sighs. “I assure you, you can. You know, Jackie, because we’re not wiping you the way WRU has wiped their product in the past, you’re going to have to work very hard to overcome your learned behaviors and previous expectations.” Ivan uses his free hand to grip Jack’s chin, squeezing until Jack whimpers. “I know that will be hard, but I believe you can do it. You will do it.”

Ivan lets go and watches Jack with cold eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips.

“Now, we both know that when it comes to motivation, incentives are key. I want to keep you motivated, darling, so, I’m going to provide an incentive for being good. If you take what I give you without argument, I’ll give you something to cover up with for our training session today. Won’t that be nice?”

Clothes. He’s offering Jack clothes.

Ivan’s hand moves closer to Jack’s face. “Eat, sweet boy. Or I’ll get creative with these chains and force feed you.”

Jack winces. He doesn’t want to give Ivan the opportunity to debase him any further. Not today, at least. He can feel the disgust rolling through his entire body, but he dips his head as far as he can. Ivan cups the back of Jack’s head, pushing it down to meet the food in his palm.

Jack’s lips slide over Ivan’s hand, but his jaw is so sore that he can’t seem to find purchase; he mouths at the chunks of eggs, but only a few actually make it where they are supposed to go. So, he does the only thing he can: he uses his tongue, lapping at Ivan’s hand like some kind of animal.

Ivan is delighted. “What a smart boy.” He forces an amused breath from his nostrils as Jack finishes what he’s been offered. “You’re very good with your little tongue, aren’t you?”

Jack almost chokes.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, sweet boy,” Ivan laughs. He turns back to the plate and refills his hand. “I was only giving you a compliment. And since you’re not muzzled, you can thank me, can’t you?”

“What?”

“I gave you a compliment. That was kind of me. When your owner gives you anything, you must be gracious.” This time, Ivan doesn’t wait for Jack to meet his hand; he pinches the eggs between his thumb and forefinger and forces them between Jack’s lips. His empty fingers stroke a heavy path down Jack’s throat until he swallows. “Say thank you, sweet boy.”

Jack coughs, and the words are out before he can reconsider. “Thank you, sweet boy.”

“Hilarious.”

Ivan reaches down and wraps his hand around Jack.

No. Not again. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Ivan’s wrist twists, and he starts to move. “Say it again, like you mean it,” he says, voice low and suggestive.

Jack tries to press his legs together, but Ivan’s other hand catches his knee and holds him in place.

“Thank me,” Ivan purrs. “And I’ll stop.”

Negative reinforcement, Jack thinks. Removing an aversive stimulus to encourage a behavior. Ivan’s already training him. And then, Jack can’t think at all, because Ivan’s pace quickens. His hand is still warm from the eggs, and it slides too easily over Jack’s skin.

Jack won’t let his body respond. He won’t.

“Th-aaagh!--thank you.”

Ivan’s thumb slides over his slit. “Sir.”

Jack’s back arches, and his collar digs in. He yelps. Ivan doesn’t let up.

“Say it, Jackie.”

Jack grits his teeth. “Thank you–oh, God–thank you–ngh!--sir!”

“Good boy!” Ivan’s touch disappears, and Jack slumps in relief. But the respite is brief. Ivan loosens the leash and forces Jack’s head backward, tipping a glass of water against his lips. “Now, drink this down, and then we’ll brush your teeth.”

The thought of Ivan putting anything else in his mouth is too much.

“I can do it myself,” Jack counters. Ivan tips the glass again, effectively silencing him.

“No, you can’t. Not without your hands,” Ivan points out. “I’ll have to help you get dressed too. You did very well, Jackie. You can cover up a little today.” He sets the glass on the table, but he doesn’t release Jack. He buries his face against Jack’s neck, flicking the tip of his tongue over the mark he made before, and then he bares his teeth. He glances up at Jack. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” Jack manages, but Ivan doesn’t pull away. He pinches thin skin between his front teeth, and Jack jolts beneath him. “Sir! Sir!”

“Very good!” Ivan sounds like a demented kindergarten teacher. “You know, eventually, we’ll have to repackage those responses; after all, you’ll have to learn how to like these things. But for now, I think we can use your aversion to our advantage, don’t you?”

Jack will never like those things. He doesn’t want Ivan to touch him. He never wanted Bill to touch him, or any of the others. Ivan won’t make him like it. Ivan won’t make him want it. He can’t.

Can he?

The leash is released from the table, and Ivan releases Jack’s wrists. Jack knows he’ll be bound again when they reach the bathroom, but Ivan likes to see him crawl. Of course he does. He tugs until Jack finds his way to his hands and knees.

“Don’t you look pretty like that?”

Jack stares at the floor, and he feels patchy blush rising all over his body. Joe never calls him pretty. He knows better, knows that it conjures memories Jack would rather keep buried forever. Joe tells him he’s beautiful. And strong. And worthy.

“Didn’t I give you another compliment, sweet boy?”

Jack forces himself to swallow a sob. “Thank you. Sir.”

Ivan laughs and leans down to pinch his ass. “It’s a shame to cover you up. But you did what you were asked, didn’t you? It’s important to be consistent with reinforcement, isn’t it? It will help establish contingencies. It will make it harder for you to resist.”

Jack tells himself he’ll resist, but already, the thought feels futile. Ivan tugs on the leash again.

“Now, come along. We’ll brush your teeth so you’ll be all minty fresh when I put the muzzle back on. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”

next >

#behavior modification #jack kenyon oc #ivan peters oc #tw future noncon #tw noncon touch #tw csa implied #ivan should not open a brunch place anytime soon #whump #whump writing

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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GOD Furious Fu genuinely pissed me off SO MUCH so hopefully you don’t mind me coming over here to ask for some kinda Lukanette fix it for that train wreck??? Like, not even anything super detailed, if you don’t feel like it, maybe just “Marinette caves, gives the Miracle Box to Su-Han, gets spotty memories and Luka (+ Kitty Section and Kagami, maybe) help her out and worry over her.” Maybe Tikki even realizes she screwed up. If not it’s fine but Lukanette makes everything better so I had to ask.

Warning: it’s gonna be a ride.

—————

Luka looked over as his phone started ringing, brows raising at the sight of Marinette's icon popping up on the screen. It'd been rare for her to call him after all the complications that came with them dating, so he was surprised to say the least.

Nevertheless, he rested an arm on his guitar and reached across his bed with his other to pick up the phone, answering the call and moving the device to his ear. "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey, Luka..."

His heart sank at the sound of her voice. It was a whole mix of emotions, but above all else, she sounded tired. He wondered what she'd gone through for her voice to play those sorts of notes.

"Did anything happen?"

"No," she answered almost instantaneously. She paused, then let out a small whine. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so used to lying, but—I guess I don't have to do that anymore."

He stayed silent, allowing her to continue.

"I—" Marinette took an audible breath, then let it out, her voice lowering to a whisper as if she were scared of someone else hearing.

"I'm...I'm Ladybug, Luka."

Luka's first reaction was shock, though he couldn't be sure if it was the identity bomb she dropped or just the fact that she told him at all. Then, once the surprise died down, the idea that Marinette was Ladybug wasn't that surprising in itself. and he couldn't imagine who else it could've been otherwise.

Smart, talented, caring, selfless... it all added up.

But that also made it all the more painful when he realized what it meant. Immediately, all the dates that she'd missed and all the things he'd been concerned about made sense, and it hurt.

That was the secret she couldn't share with him, no matter how badly she might've wanted to.

The last thought in particular was odd to him, and he couldn't help voicing it, "I... thank you for telling me, Marinette, but... why now?"

She took another breath, more unsteady this time, like she were a guitar with something jammed inside the base. "Because—I'm about to forget it, and now I can't stop thinking about everything I might forget; how I want someone to know. You were the first - the only - person I thought of." Then, hesitantly, she asked, "Is that okay?"

Luka swallowed, feeling the whiplash of another dropped bomb right before the kind of casual compliment that made his heart race. "Of...of course it is."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

He tried to keep quiet, but couldn't hold back from questioning, "You said 'forget'..."

"Yeah, because I'm guardian now. There was someone else before and they gave me the ladybug miraculous, but—" She paused, as if considering something, then seemed to shift the conversation. "See, I didn't know anything about being a hero at the start, and... I screwed up." Before Luka could ask or recall the event, she continued, "I let the first ever akuma go, and it let Hawk Moth spread his butterflies everywhere when Ivan got akumatized again. I fixed it, but it was still my mistake that started it."

"Marinette—"

"—and I always tried. I tried my best no matter what I did. I tried to be a good Ladybug, a good student, a good daughter, a good friend... and I tried to get Adrien's attention." She groaned, though the sound seemed muffled, perhaps by her hand. Her voice cracked as she went on, "That's where everything went so wrong, Luka. I knew I had bad luck, but no matter how hard I tried, things would go bad. It was humiliating, and I kept thinking that maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. My parents had such a happy relationship and I wanted that, but I was just wasting my time. He was barely in my life but he got put into everything I did, and I made so many mistakes from him. There's a liar in school who wants to turn everyone against me, and Alya thinks I'm just jealous because of Adrien. Chloe convinced me to do things I'm not proud of, and it took a while for me to be Kagami's friend. I didn't listen to my kwami and used my miraculous for my own gain, and..."

"What's wrong with that?" he questioned, voice pained. "What's wrong with using your miraculous for you? You save Paris every other day—"

"—because bad things happen, Luka," she stressed as if it were something urgent. "Bad things happen when I... feel."

There was a pit in his stomach. He knew he shouldn't ask - knew he wouldn't like the answer - but he hoped for better regardless. "Feel... what?"

"Anything."

He hunched forward, not strumming his guitar but running his fingers along the strings, desperate for something to busy himself with. His shoulders were stiff and his chest felt tight, unable to fathom what she'd been going through compared to what he'd merely seen on the surface.

"No matter what I did, no matter what I felt... it was wrong, Luka. I embarrassed Chloe in front of the whole class and she wanted to move to New York. She'd bullied me for years and I was so happy." She sounded conflicted, like instruments that didn't go together. "Adrien told me it was terrible. He didn't know why I could celebrate it. I felt awful, so I gave her a chance; I gave her a miraculous."

Luka anxiously rubbed one of the strings between his thumb and index finger, torn between seething and trying to reassure her despite knowing that she'd cut him off.

"She got it in her head that she deserved it, but with Mayura around, it wasn't safe to let her keep having it. I had to tell her 'no,' and..." She let out a defeated noise. "Do you remember that day? At the park?"

She didn't need to specify, and his voice lost all life at the memory. "Yeah..."

"Adrien and Kagami were together. I let them go. They seemed so happy together and it was the right thing to do, but..."

She paused, and he braced himself.

"When I was going to see the guardian to get a miraculous, I saw them. I got distracted and I forgot to de-transform. Because of me, Hawk Moth found the guardian, and he got the miraculouses from him. By the time I realized what happened, it was too late, and Chloe got akumatized again to ruin me. Those bees you saw—they were hers. They mind-controlled everyone, and that's why your identities were compromised. The guardian had to give up the box with all the miraculouses in it to me - ladybug me - because Hawk Moth was probably about to kill him and become the next guardian." She let out a sob. "Giving up the box... it takes your memory with it."

Luka gripped the string he'd been rubbing.

"I don't know how much he lost, but... anything about the miraculouses was gone. He didn't recognize me. He didn't even recognize the love of his life. He had... feelings, but that was it. All because of me."

"Marinette—" he desperately tried to interject.

She cut him off, as he'd feared, "I'm just fixing my own mistakes. People think I'm a good Ladybug because they don't get that. They don't get that I'm just going in circles. My friends don't believe in me, my parents think I'm too clumsy to carry a tray, and... it always feels like someone - somewhere - is laughing at me, with every screw-up." She whimpered. "What good is a ladybug who gets people akumatized? Who gets her own boyfriend akumatized?"

"I don't blame you for that!" he shouted, intentionally raising his voice to talk over her.

He heard a small noise in response, though he couldn't tell if it was another whimper or a giggle.

"I'm sorry," she said, though what she was apologizing for seemed vague, "and thank you, for always being there for me. I'm glad I have time to talk to you before he gets back."

Luka had to calm himself down to ask worriedly, "He...?"

"The guardian; the one that came before the one I knew. He showed up in my room today and saw how I had all the kwami outside of the box; I guess you're not supposed to do that, and he wasn't happy. He told me about all these rules I broke and how I had to give everything back. I took him to meet Chat Noir, but Chat ran for it when he realized that I'd forget about him. The guardian is chasing him down now and I'm just here, with the box, waiting for him to get back."

Luka leaned back and stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by the rush of information she'd thrown at him all at once. He hadn't even been the one to experience any of it and he still felt worn down as if he had.

"I—" He paused, not liking how his voice shook. "I wish I could've helped you, Marinette. I wish you hadn't had to do all of that alone. I know you feel like it's your fault, but even the best musicians miss notes and mess up. Please don't blame yourself."

She let out a non-committal noise and he knew then that nothing he said would help her. He was sure that she believed him, but words could only do so much, and unlearning what apparent months of suffering had taught her would be difficult.

Though, he supposed it wouldn't matter. "Will you forget... everything?"

"I don't know, but at least everything about Ladybug or the miraculouses will go." She let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess it was all for nothing in the end."

"It wasn't," Luka replied. "Marinette, no matter how many times you feel like you screwed up, you were still an amazing ladybug. Everything you said didn't change my mind about that." After a moment of thought, he added, "And that other guardian... how is he?"

He heard her take a breath, as if to give an automatic answer, but she stopped herself. "...He's away from Paris, living with the love of his life."

"See? That sounds better than being the guardian, in Paris, where Hawk Moth is," he pointed out. "Maybe he forgot more than he would've wanted, but—"

"Luka," she interrupted, as if something had just occurred to her.

He considered finishing what he was saying, but stopped himself in favor of wanting to hear her out. "Yeah?"

"A-ah... mm." She struggled briefly while trying to get the words out. "If—if I forget too much... if I forget you... would you still visit me?"

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility, but it hadn't been on the forefront of his mind either, mostly for the sake of keeping himself grounded.

After having an internal debate with himself, he settled for asking, "Would you want me to?"

"Don't say it like that," she pleaded. "Don't leave it all up to me. I...I'd understand if you decide you don't want to see me again. I wouldn't blame you, I just—" Her voice lowered to something both shy and fond. "—I'm my best self when I'm with you, Luka. We didn't date for that long, and maybe it would've been better for you if we never met, but I..."

The pause she made had him holding his breath, his grip on the phone tightening. He couldn't believe she would dare to imply that he wouldn't do it all over again; meeting her, writing songs about her, dating her...

Marinette let out a breath, and Luka noted that it sounded so... final, like this was really the end.

"I love you, Luka."

His heart hammered in his chest. "Marinette."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," she whispered. After going quiet for a few seconds, her tone suddenly shifted as she said, "I have to go now. He's on his way."

Luka took a sharp intake of breath, but the click of the call came before he could speak. He could only stare down at the phone, Marinette's contact image staring back as an emptiness washed over him.

Then, he was on his feet, guitar tossed aside, and he'd never moved so fast before in his life.

—————

Marinette gazed at Luka's picture for a few more seconds, as if doing so would permanently imprint it into her memory, then sighed and tossed it onto her chaise lounge. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tiredness and unshed tears, unable to help wondering if Fu falling unconscious after his memory loss was something peaceful for him.

When she uncovered her eyes, she noticed the kwami, all distancing themselves from her but staring at her like she was a corpse in a coffin.

"What...?" she asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

They all exchanged glances, like they were debating telepathically, then Wayzz flew forward.

"I - we - we're so sorry, Marinette," he said. Bowing in respect, he added, "We got so excited, and we only caused you more problems."

Marinette shrugged, only able to offer a defeated smile. "There's nothing we can do now. It's too late to change anything."

Tikki approached, her body hunched over and making her look even smaller than she already was. "I-I should've said something. I let him talk to you like that and I didn't do anything to stop him."

Marinette reached over, tempted to pet or touch her kwami in some way to help reassure her, but pulled back at the last moment, too conflicted about it.

The sound of something landing on the balcony followed, and Marinette stared up at it like she could see through her ceiling.

"...He's here," she stated. After giving one last look at all of her kwami, she focused specifically on Tikki and said, "Spots on."

Su-Han descended into her room, Ladybug standing in the center and wanting nothing more but to get things over with. He approached her, raising his fist and then opening it to show her the ring inside; Chat Noir's ring. Plagg, meanwhile, hovered aimlessly around the room, not meeting anyone's eyes and probably sensing the tension.

"That crybaby was even more of a fool than I'd thought," Su-Han commented, "giving a miraculous to a boy whose face is all over this village."

"What?" Ladybug blurted out. A boy whose face was all over—but that meant—"Adrien?"

Su-Han raised a brow. "A friend of yours?" He promptly scoffed. "That makes him even more foolish."

She couldn't even find it in herself to respond, too busy grappling with so casually being told something she'd intended to never learn about if she could help it.

Adrien was Chat Noir? It explained a little bit of everything and made her feel a lot of everything at the same time, like the two personalities meshed together to create something both shocking yet profoundly upsetting. She saw her memories with Adrien in place of Chat Noir and vice versa, unable to separate the two and pursing her lips as she recognized that, perhaps if things had been a little different...

"Young lady," Su-Han called strictly, pulling her out of her trance. "I don't have time to waste here. Relinquish the Miracle Box to me, at once."

"A-ah..." Ladybug could only nod, still dazed but at least focused enough to respond. She stared down at her hands, staring at the red and single black spot on the back of each, then sighed and closed her eyes, accepting that it was the last time she'd see them.

"I, Ladybug, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box..."

The last feeling she'd remember as Ladybug was a deep, unrelenting regret; regret for all the things she did do, didn't do, and the things that weren't even in her control.

Then, as her mind was fogging and she was slipping into darkness, she felt something else.

She felt free.

—————

Luka didn't bother saying a word to Tom or Sabine when he charged inside the bakery, both of them letting out various shouts of concern as he bolted past them and ran up the stairs. He nearly tripped multiple times, but he never stopped moving. He dashed up each flight until his eyes locked on the door to Marinette's living room.

He opened the door in a hurry, ignoring the sound of it slamming against the wall, and headed right for the stairs to Marinette's room. He threw caution to the wind and pushed open the trap door in the same fashion, his eyes scanning the place in a panic.

Then, his gaze fell upon Marinette, lying there on the floor, earrings gone, and he realized that he was too late. If he were honest, he hadn't known exactly what he'd rushed there to do - try and prevent the memory loss? tell her how wrong she'd been during their call? call out the guardian for treating his beloved so cruelly? - but now that he was there, all he could think about was being there for her.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then approached and knelt down next to her. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her up and brought her over to her chaise lounge, wanting to at least get her off the floor. Her phone had been resting on the chaise’s cushion, but he simply moved it to the table after setting her down.

He paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair and ruffling it. His mind was still racing, as was his heart, and his running had nothing to do with either. He knew that, whether Marinette had her memory or not, she was the song in his head, and any pain that would come with her not knowing him couldn't compare to the pain of not seeing her again. She wasn't a burden, and no matter how many excuses he might have to come up with, he wasn't going to let her be alone, especially not when she trusted him with a secret that she'd only let him hear.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the slight shuffling noise, though the sound of Marinette stirring was what made him fully turn around to look at her. While she laid there, her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, darting aimlessly around the room as if in search of something.

"Marinette," he whispered, rushing over to her. Bending over the chaise lounge, barely thinking, he asked gently, "Are you okay?"

"Mm..." Her eyes found his, and she blinked a few times before she actually seemed awake enough to answer him. "Luka?"

His breath, his words, his very sound, all caught in his throat. If he were a guitar, his strings would've snapped from the sudden release of tension.

"Y-you... know who I am?" he asked in a small voice.

She tilted her head at him, confused by the question. "Of course I do? You're my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. She said boyfriend. She didn't just remember him, she remembered her feelings for him.

He got misty-eyed from the realization, and Marinette's eyes widened in alarm.

"L-luka?" she called, brows furrowed with concern. She reached up with a hand, sliding it along his cheek. "What's wrong—what happened? I swear I'm okay, I—"

He shook his head, gently holding onto her wrist and feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse to ground himself. "Nothing, Marinette. Nothing happened. You—you just had a bad fall."

"O-oh. I...I'm sorry." She pushed herself up with her free hand. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to worry—"

He couldn't wait any longer. He hugged her, squeezing her with every ounce of love that'd been accumulating since they'd originally broken up. Marinette didn't seem to understand the intensity of his actions, but didn't hesitate to hug him back either, even humming with content and burying her face into his shoulder.

Her song sang freely to him. It wasn't torn or twisted up, playing openly instead of staying locked in a music box. He couldn't have been happier after she'd given him such a scare before, and any remaining questions could come later.

For that moment, he just let their duet play free-er than it'd ever been able to before.

—————

"Luka~" Marinette called from the kitchen. When he looked over to her, she raised two different bottles of iced tea, waving them a bit for emphasis. "Which one do you want?"

He hummed, then pointed to the one in her left hand. She nodded at the decision, then put the other bottle back in the fridge, retrieving a bottled drink of her own before leaving the kitchen to join him on the couch.

The last few weeks had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but not necessarily in a bad way. He'd had to deal with Marinette's memory loss and simultaneously piece together how exactly it'd all worked out, but all in all, it was good for her.

Most of Marinette's memories outside of being Ladybug were in tact, and Luka had realized soon after she'd woken up from her memory loss that the reason she’d forgotten about their break up was exactly because it'd been related to her being Ladybug. He'd tried vaguely to explain it to her as if he hadn't known that she was Ladybug, wondering if those negative feelings still lingered, but they both still wanted to date each other and thus concluded that not dating after all that would've been silly. He knew full well that she wasn't going to be stressed or strapped for time anymore, so it wasn't a subject worth debating over, especially if it meant that they could move back into dating without issue.

She'd initially cried when he assured her that he was happy to continue dating her. She couldn’t comprehend why and he'd merely hugged her in reassurance, imagining that he was also hugging the Marinette of the past who didn't believe he'd want to date her again.

Outside of that, there were additional gaps in Marinette's memory that she couldn't explain, and Luka was certain that they were either Ladybug or guardian-related. Her parents had been particularly concerned by the losses, but Luka noted to himself that the lost memories were for the best. It was as if all of the memories that had caused her stress had evaporated, leaving only good ones behind.

Adrien was the big one, as she hadn't been able to remember him at all. At best, she was uncomfortable around him, and Luka did her the favor of removing any pictures of the guy from her cork board and phone. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he put together that Adrien was Chat Noir, things fell into place. Marinette had explained during their phone call that the previous guardian had lost his memory of the love of his life, but Luka imagined that she might've been his confidant for so long that thinking of her as anything else was impossible. Factor in that Marinette had also explained that her crush on Adrien had seeped into her being Ladybug, and it all added up; so long as the connection between the person and the miraculouses was unavoidable, they were forgotten.

And Marinette seemed all the happier for it. To some degree, it was tragic that Paris didn't have Ladybug anymore, but as far as Luka was concerned, Marinette needed to be rid of Ladybug more than Paris needed her, and Marinette's health took priority over all else.

The new ladybug holder was no replacement from the original, but Luka had expected that. Despite them being an adult and having access to as many lucky charms as they desired, no one could substitute Ladybug's instinct and ability to think on her feet.

But that wasn't Luka's problem, and he wholly intended to make sure that it wasn't Marinette's either. She'd heard that there was a previous ladybug, but had no interest in anything relating to the heroes nor their miraculouses. The most she'd said about them was one time where she'd idly commented that her homeroom and PE teachers had been "busier than she remembered," though she'd brushed it off as being related to her mild memory loss.

He'd giggled at that. He had been prepared to have to fall in love with a slightly different Marinette, but she honestly hadn't changed much; still caring, still generous, and still the adorable mess that he loved so much. She could afford to work on her confidence, sure, but he didn't fall for her due to what Ladybug had given her.

"Luka?"

He blinked, then looked down to her; her and her bright, happy eyes, the darkness underneath having faded long ago. She smiled at him, oblivious to his thoughts and a brow raised in amusement.

"Were you daydreaming?" she asked curiously, her hand covering his and giving it a casual squeeze.

Luka still couldn't quite believe that he was hers and she was his. He recalled Desperada, that fateful day where she - Ladybug at the time - had given him the snake miraculous, presumably after she'd tried to give it to Adrien. He wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but there was a pride in being able to do something that Adrien couldn't. He'd never forgotten her words either, knowing now that they were Marinette's.

"You were the right choice, Luka."

He sighed blissfully, bending down to press his forehead against hers and replying, "I'm just happy."

She let out a small whine at the sudden and sweet gesture, but still pressed back in return. "Me too."

They stayed in that moment until a sudden thumping noise brought them out of it, Luka jerking his head up to stare at where it'd come from: Marinette's room. Immediately recognizing what was happening, he groaned and rubbed his face in irritation.

As expected, the man Luka had come to know as Su-Han emerged, descending the stairs and locking eyes with Marinette. She recoiled, her hands clutching Luka's sleeve as she murmured, "Not you again..."

Luka gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then got up from the couch and walked around to face Su-Han himself.

The man huffed. "I'm not here for—"

"Marinette wants nothing to do with you," Luka said lowly. He went for the living room door, opening it and gesturing outside. Su-Han followed with an air of self-importance and Luka closed the door behind them, leaving Marinette safely out of the conversation.

"The former ladybug had not even informed me of what she'd done," Su-Han explained. "Therefore, it's time she take responsibility and—"

Luka snapped, "You don't get to blame anything on Marinette. She did everything you asked her to and you made her give up her memories." He purposefully left out the fact that she was better off without said memories. "You're the one who insulted her song before you even got to hear it."

Su-Han squinted, the phrase clearly going over his head. "...What?"

At that point, the sound of footsteps came from downstairs, Luka glancing past the railing to see Tom coming up, perhaps having heard the voices even if he didn't hear any specific words.

The moment he saw Su-Han, Tom glared.

"Honey! That man bothering our daughter is back!" he shouted.

More footsteps followed, this time from Sabine and simultaneously much faster than Tom’s. Su-Han clearly caught on that this would be a repeat of "last time" (one of Luka's fonder memories of seeing the man be dealt with) and quickly fled back into the other room to return to Marinette's balcony and escape.

Once Luka had confirmed that everything was okay, he returned to the couch to sit at Marinette's side again. She tilted her head at him, but didn't ask any questions, Su-Han having become something on a "frequent but harmless weirdo" who she didn't understand.

Luka held an arm out invitingly, then wrapped it around Marinette when she snuggled against him. He used his free hand to open the bottle of iced tea - finding it difficult but also not worth leaving their cuddle to allow for both hands - then tipped the drink to his mouth to take a sip.

"Hey, Luka?" Marinette called, slightly shy in her delivery.

Luka met her gaze, setting the drink back on the table so he could give her his full attention. "Hm?"

"Could we... go on a date tomorrow?" she asked, one of her hands idly fiddling with the fabric of his pant leg. "I was thinking we could go buy a movie to watch? The one with Jagged Stone?"

He didn't know if the request had anything to do with the failed date that she may or may not recall anymore, but regardless, he was grinning like a fool. He pulled her closer, his free hand falling upon one of hers as he nuzzled her. "I'd love that."

He silently looked forward to the day where all the new memories he made with her outmatched the time lost from her old ones.

#type: story #story: oneshot #Flower Arrangement Shipping #episode: Furious Fu #((I'm going off of the vague information we have to guess that she broke up with him in episode 1 because of her responsibilities.))#other: ml spoilers #((It's gonna hurt a lot but I swear it's a happy ending.))#((Also I agree that Lukanette does indeed make everything better.))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...)

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?”

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation.

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,”

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?”

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket.

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?”

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly.

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded.

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him.

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?”

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,”

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,”

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?”

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,”

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,”

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence.

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips.

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian…

Y/N.

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…”

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

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,”

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,”

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,”

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him.

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already.

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?”

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily.

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it.

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!”

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it.

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,”

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause.

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,”

The jab didn’t land, though.

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense.

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name.

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,”

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,”

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking.

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature.

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it.

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much.

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach.

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,”

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,”

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed.

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,”

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia.

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch.

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?”

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be.

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games.

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

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up.

They did quite the opposite.

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw.

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,”

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right.

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them.

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all.

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike.

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning.

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th.

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?”

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for.

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up.

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves.

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though.

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed.

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey.

“A drink, dear leader?”

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?”

“Too many,”

“For once, I agree with you,”

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,”

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan.

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?”

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?”

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?”

“You know that’s not what this is about,”

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked.

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing?

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with.

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,”

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?”

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?”

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?”

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all.

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that.

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too.

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan.

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible.

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,”

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible.

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,”

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,”

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips.

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,”

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Why would that be wonderful?”

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own.

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first.

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one.

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

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine.

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him.

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained.

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself.

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group.

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached.

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch.

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too.

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this?

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end.

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,”

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,”

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?”

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over.

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back.

“I’ll try not to,”

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,”

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours.

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed.

“What?”

“You weren’t invited,”

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,”

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?”

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,”

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,”

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been.

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,”

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it.

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky.

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,”

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,”

“Yeah, he would have…”

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick.

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again.

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?”

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?”

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,”

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-”

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,”

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,”

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip.

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,”

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,”

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it.

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea.

It fell on deaf ears.

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave.

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live.

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before.

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again.

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

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better.

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued.

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck.

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded.

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth.

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died.

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life.

What remained now?

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it.

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N.

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen.

It was only right that they go together.

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,”

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun.

“Quiet,”

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them?

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles.

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,”

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time.

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet.

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

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end.

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it.

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that.

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be.

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him.

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there.

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side.

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it.

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment.

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly.

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back.

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning.

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,”

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead?

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,”

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,”

Married.

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?”

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,”

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,”

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips.

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

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

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it.

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all.

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,”

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them.

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket.

“We buried them in Ciczheni,”

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,”

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word.

Ciczheni.

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks.

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two.

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home.

Making a family.

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been.

For Y/N, though...

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling.

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives.

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare.

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace.

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer.

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them.

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know.

They both would.

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying.

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#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #barricade day #zemo fanfic

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH21

We’ve done it! We’re caught up to AO3! As such, I will be taking the next month off from posting to get AO3 updated and take a short break. I will resume posting on AO3 first, then tumblr right after starting on July 2, 2021! Can’t wait for you all to see the rest of this story! I have a lot of changes coming.

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Chapter 21: Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince

The next morning, Adrien’s stomach churned on the way to school. Chloe sat beside him adjusting her makeup while Gorilla was stopped at a red light. Everyone would know about their interview now. He expected backlash, but not like this. Pulling out his phone, he opened the article again.

Ladybug’s #1 Fan Deletes Blog After Scathing Final Video

“It’s like I don’t even know who she is anymore. I thought she was this amazing, genuine person, but in reality, she doesn’t care about any of us,” Alya said in the clip.

“Sources speculate this video was posted in response to the interview Ladybug did prior yesterday afternoon with the daughter of Paris’s own Mayor Bourgeois and the son of famous fashion mogul, Gabriel Agreste. In the interview, Ladybug denounced clout-chasers using her name to get attention, stating that such actions are “dangerous” and “need to stop.” The blogger behind the popular Ladyblog seemed to find fault with these comments and was akumatized shortly after the interview. It seems that bad blood has brewed between the blogger and the heroine even after the day was saved. The Ladyblogger posted one final video lashing out at the superheroine before deleting her blog altogether.”

“Ugh, stop reading that. Who cares?” Chloe groaned, swiping Adrien’s phone from his hands. “That brat doesn’t have brain cells if she believes a nobody like Lila over a superhero.”

“Alya devoted a lot of time to that blog, and she really looked up to Ladybug. She’s probably crushed right now,” Adrien said.

Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled out her lip gloss. “So let her be. She did this to herself by siding with that wannabe. If any of these losers have a brain, then Lila’s going to be finished today. I’ll be shocked if she’s even here.”

“Uh, I think we have other things to worry about.” Adrien pointed to the crowd waiting at the bottom of the stairs as their car rolled up to the curb. Their classmates had formed a wall between them and the inside of the school like a group of knights defending their queen. Lila was waiting safely inside, no doubt. She never liked getting her hands dirty unless she had to.

“You don’t think she’ll get away with this and make everyone hate us, do you?” Adrien asked.

“Everyone already hates me, Adrikins. I have nothing to lose.” Chloe snapped her compact shut and dropped it into her purse. “But it looks like we’ll have to finish the job ourselves. I’m going to need a spa day after working so hard.”

A pit tangled in Adrien’s stomach as they climbed from the car, the angry expressions of their classmates sending a chill up his spine. When they’d done the interview, Adrien expected everyone to be mad at Lila, not him. How did she weasel her way out of this one?

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where’s your bff Ladybug?”

“She’s got better things to do than worry about you losers,” Chloe said without missing a beat, completely undeterred by the mob in front of them. “Now, move, you’re blocking the stairs.”

“Ya know, I’ve always known you were evil, but this is really low, even for you.” Alya shook her head.

“Yeah! Tricking Ladybug is way uncool, Chloe,” Nino said.

“Yeah!” Several classmates echoed their agreement.

“Ladybug spoke the honest truth. All I did was ask the questions.” Chloe examined her nails.

“Stop pretending to be innocent. I overheard you and Adrien plotting to trick Ladybug into saying incriminating things about Lila, so don’t even lie to us.” Alya shot Adrien a glare that cut through his chest like a knife. “And what do you have to say for yourself? Teaming up with the wicked witch. We all thought you denounced Chloe’s actions, but I guess the silver spoon doesn’t fall far from the table.”

“Ugh, she’s delusional. Come on, Adrikins.” Chloe tugged his arm, but he remained rooted in place.

“No, she’s right. Chloe and I did conspire to trick Ladybug into admitting she and Lila were never friends,” Adrien said, and Chloe shot him a warning glare. “But that’s not actually what happened.”

“Really? So you two didn’t do a live interview where Ladybug said she doesn’t have any non-superhero friends?” Alya quirked a brow.

“Chloe and I originally planned to trick Ladybug, yes, but I didn’t feel right about it, so before the interview, I told Ladybug the truth. She went into that interviewing knowing what we were going to ask her, and she agreed,” Adrien said.

“What?” Chloe gasped.

“What Ladybug said was her choice. Lila’s lies have gotten out of hand, and she knows that better than anyone,” Adrien said.

“Why should we believe you?” Nathaniel grunted. “You teamed up with Chloe, so obviously you’re not the innocent sunshine boy everyone thinks you are.”

“Yeah, Chloe’s the worst!” Sabrina shouted, and Chloe’s gaze locked on her.

“How dare you! You’re not allowed to side with those losers. Get over here!” Chloe demanded, but Alya draped an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders.

“She’s done putting up with your crud, Chloe. We all are,” Alya said. “Lila hasn’t done anything to deserve all the hate from you or Marinette or Ladybug or anybody!”

“So, you losers are really going to believe some random girl who walked in off the street and started telling all of these amazing stories without evidence to back them up over a superhero?” Chloe cocked a hip. “You’re all more pathetic than I thought.”

“You’re the pathetic one! You two and Marinette have been plotting against Lila for weeks, haven’t you?” Alya shot back.

“Whoa, Marinette has nothing to do with any of this,” Adrien said. “This was all me and Chloe.”

“I heard you two talking. You said you were doing it for Marinette, or did I hear you incorrectly?” Alya challenged.

Adrien sighed. “No, we did say that, and I did do it for Marinette.”

“Ha!”

“But not because she told me to.” Adrien took a deep breath and turned to his classmates. “All of you, don’t you miss Marinette? Rose, don’t you miss when she would bring you extra fabric for your scrapbook projects? And Nathaniel, don’t you miss when she’d offer suggestions for your comic books?”

When they remained quiet, he continued, “Marinette left this school feeling hurt and empty. She felt like all of her friends turned their backs on her for a new girl. She poured her heart and soul into everything she did here, and Lila drove her away. Marinette knew the truth, so Lila threatened to take everything away from her. And she did which is why I teamed up with Chloe to stop her. Marinette doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. Not after everything she’s done.”

Everyone was quiet. Even Alya’s resolve seemed shaken, but she squared her shoulders.

“I can’t believe you when you’re standing next to her.�� She nodded at Chloe.

Kim pursed his lips, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I dunno, it doesn’t make sense. Marinette would never do something like that. Adrien can be protective of people he cares about, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

“Yeah, Marinette is like the nicest person in the world. She’d never go against someone without a reason, especially if it involves teaming up with Chloe,” Alix agreed.

“And Marinette was always looking out for everyone before Lila showed up,” Ivan said.

They moved to stand beside Adrien, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, I’m not siding with Chloe, even if Marinette was nice to me sometimes.” Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I’m done being your bff. You’ll have to get someone else to do your homework from now on,” Sabrina said with a humph.

Myléne flicked her gaze between the forming groups, curling her shoulders. “Sorry, but they’re right. Chloe is always being mean. I don’t really think Marinette is involved, but this seems very typical for Chloe.”

Max tapped his chin with one finger. “It’s true that this type of behavior is very typical of Chloe, but senseless cruelty is atypical of Adrien. However, acting in defense of a dear friend is a trait Adrien and Marinette have demonstrated on numerous occasions, and Lila’s stories can be outlandish at times. Then there’s the issue of the interview with Ladybu-”

“Oh, just pick a side!” Chloe groaned.

“I-” Max glanced between his friends. “I am choosing to abstain from taking sides until I have further evidence. Both Lila and Marinette are my friends.”

“Ugh, whatever. What about you two?” Chloe turned to Juleka and Rose.

Juleka mumbled something no one understood but moved to stand by Alix. Rose cupped a hand over her mouth, shifting between Alya and Adrien.

“Rose?” Adrien prompted.

Her shoulders curled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to pick! I don’t want anyone to fight anymore.” She covered her face with a whimper, and Nino placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said.

“Nino?” Adrien asked hopefully, but his best bud lowered his head, red cap covering his eyes.

“Sorry, bro. I know you and Chloe have always been tight, but that doesn’t mean she and I have to be,” Nino said, taking a purposeful step toward Alya.

“Well, looks like more people are on my side than yours.” Chloe gloated.

“Hold up,” Alix said. “No one on this side picked you. We just believe Marinette is innocent, and Adrien was acting to protect her.”

“Yeah, you’re still the worst. We’re on Marinette’s team,” Ivan added. Chloe scowled but didn’t argue further.

A cold anger burned behind Alya’s eyes, the hurt she was feeling bubbling just beneath the surface. Adrien shivered. This wasn’t what he wanted when they did the interview. He wanted everyone to be free from Lila’s influence, especially Alya, but Lila’s hooks were in too deep. He never should have let things get this bad. If he’d acted sooner, then Marinette never would have left. Their classmates would be free, and no one would have to feel torn.

When the bell rang, their classmates dispersed, filing into the school one-by-one. Chloe fell into step beside Adrien.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I need time to forget about the fact that I’m Team Marinette.” Chloe shuddered.

“We’ve got enough people who at least believe Marinette is innocent, but we can’t get too cocky. That’s not the same thing as believing Lila is guilty,” Adrien said.

“We’ll figure something out. We just need time and a little precision,” Chloe said.

Adrien gulped, gripping the strap on his bag tighter. For their sake, he hoped they thought of something soon.

♪♫♪ Learn to Let Go ♪♫♪

“Take a deep breath in,” Macy said.

Marinette sat cross-legged on a bright blue yoga mat. Sunlight streaming in from the skylights warmed Marinette’s bare shoulders while soothing music played softly in the background. After the past few days, Marinette’s anxiety was at an all-time high, so a meditation session was in order. She followed Macy’s instructions, but it did little to relax her.

“Now, breathe out all of that negative energy. Let it all leave your body,” Macy continued. “Think of all the things in your life that make you happy and push out the things that don’t.”

Marinette took another breath, but the events of the last two days flashed vividly in her mind. The interview, Ladyblogger, the hurt look in Alya’s eyes when Ladybug captured her akuma, the video… Marinette breathed out.

Alya deleted the Ladyblog. Lila had done the impossible and turned Ladybug’s biggest fan into one of her biggest detractors. Granted, Ladybug might have helped by replacing Rena Rouge, but what was Marinette supposed to do? Working with Alya wasn’t an option after everything—it would have been too painful. Even still, Marinette would be lying if she said watching Alya lose faith in Ladybug didn’t rip another hole in her chest. Despite ending their friendship, Marinette still wished Alya the best, even if she was running with Lila.

“You’re not letting go of the negative energy,” Macy said.

Marinette blinked her eyes open and sighed, letting her posture fall. “Sorry, it’s been a rough few days.”

Macy turned to face Marinette with a smile. “Why don’t we talk about it instead? Maybe it will help if you get it all off your chest.”

“Maybe…” Marinette picked at a loose thread on her pants. She shifted to face Macy, chest tight. “It’s just…my old school. When I left, I didn’t want to look back, but it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t leave it behind.”

“Well, you had a lot of friends at your old school, right? It’s not easy to walk away from people you care about,” Macy said. “Especially when you know someone is using them.”

“I guess.” Marinette hugged her knees to her chest. “I thought I’d been gone long enough to not care anymore, but when Alya got akumatized, I just felt so sad.”

“Of course, you did! She was your best friend.” Macy pulled the tea table closer and prepared a cup. “It’s not easy to see someone you love in that much pain. You’re not a robot, Marinette. It’s okay to care.”

Macy pushed a cup toward her, but when she made no move to accept it, Macy changed the subject. “What about Adrien? Have you heard from him?”

Marinette flicked her gaze to her phone and shook her head. “No. Not since yesterday. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I dunno.” Marinette shrugged. “He’s been texting me all the time lately, but now all of a sudden, he just stopped.”

“Boys are flaky like that sometimes. Give him time. I’m sure he’ll come around,” Macy assured her.

“I know, and I know it’s probably because of the interview he did with Ladybug.” Marinette sighed. “He probably thinks I’m mad at him.”

“How do you know?” Macy asked.

Marinette shifted to tuck her legs under the table and pulled her cup closer. She stared at her reflection in the tea and shrugged. “Because I thought the same thing when I changed schools behind his back. I thought he’d be disappointed.”

“Was he?” Macy asked.

“No, but I didn’t know that until he talked to me.” Marinette took a long sip. “I just feel bad that he did all of that for me. He shouldn’t have to deal with my problems.”

Macy surveyed her with a frown. “That’s something I’ve noticed about you, ya know,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re quick to shoulder everyone’s burdens when you think they need help, but you never expect anyone to do it for you.”

“I just want to be there for my friends, that’s all.” Marinette deflected as if it were no big deal, but Macy shot her a chiding look.

“Marinette, that’s very noble and sweet, but the same is true for you, ya know,” Macy said. “Everyone else’s burdens aren’t yours to bear. You’re going to break your back carrying so much weight around.” When Marinette remained quiet, Macy sighed. “Well, then I guess I have no choice.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette blinked up at her.

“If you’re running head-first into everyone’s problems, then I’m coming too,” Macy said. “I’m not going to let you do it all alone, and I don’t think Martin and Eliott will either. Adrien certainly isn’t.”

“But-”

“Marinette!” Macy threw her head back with a groan. “What I’m trying to say is… Your friends have your back, okay? So don’t worry about anything. We’re right behind you all the way.”

Macy’s smile was soft and genuine, and Marinette shivered, the fear and uncertainty floating to the surface. She leaned against Macy’s chest as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, and her friend patted her hair, whispering encouragement while Marinette sobbed. The dull ache that had plagued her all month lightened as each tear carried away her pain.

Macy didn’t let go until her whimpers quieted, and when Marinette sat up, the weight on her shoulders felt lighter. She took a deep breath and exhaled all of her worry just like Macy said. Even if she didn’t have her old friends anymore, she had new ones, and she had to admit—they were pretty hard to beat.

♪♫♪ Daylight ♪♫♪

Adrien faced his mother’s statue in the garden with a sigh. Things were messier now than they had been a few days ago, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. No matter what they threw at Lila, she always managed to wiggle out of it. Would they ever be rid of Lila Rossi? At least some of their classmates still believed in Marinette. She’d be happy to hear that she didn’t lose everyone at Francoise-Dupont.

He flicked his gaze down to his phone with a sigh. They hadn’t spoken since before the interview. Adrien couldn’t bring himself to after everything that happened with Alya. She was bound to know the truth now—that he’d teamed up with Chloe to stop Lila, despite how she’d refused. How much more pain had he caused her by trying to fix her problems? He was afraid to know. He’d betrayed her wishes, but hopefully she’d understand that his heart was in the right place. She was all his heart ever talked about these days. Avoiding her was agony, and his heart ached every time he looked at his phone.

“I don’t know what to do, Mom,” he murmured. He shifted to press his back to the statue, resting his cheek against her lap. “No matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. Sometimes I wish you were still here to tell me everything will be alright.”

He closed his eyes, listening to the birds chirping and the hum of the city beyond the walls. When had life gotten so complicated? He longed for freedom for so long, but he never imagined what it would cost. The pain he would endure. But he’d take this pain over isolation. He never wanted to be locked up again. One day he’d be free from his father’s control, then he and Marinette could be together whenever they wanted. One day…

“Adrien?”

He sat up, cheek sore from resting against the stone. When had he fallen asleep? Red and black spots filled his vision, awakening his heart with a jolt.

“Ladybug?” He blinked, rubbing his eyes as if expecting her to be a dream.

“Sorry, I was just passing overhead, and I saw you sitting down here. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Stay. I could use the company.”

“That makes two of us,” she said, taking a seat beside him with a sigh. “We really made a mess of things.”

“Yeah…” Adrien rested his chin on his fist. “I don’t know how she gets away with it every time.”

Ladybug leaned her head back with a sigh. “Lila is crafty. She targeted Alya specifically because she knew she’d be her most powerful ally.”

“I just feel so bad. I was hoping we could finally make everyone see the truth, but it looks like we just made things worse. Marinette was right, I shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said, “but I couldn’t help it. Not after everything Lila has done to her.”

“You really care about this girl, don’t you?” Ladybug smiled.

His cheeks warmed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, more than anything. But I feel like all I ever do is cause her trouble. She’s probably furious with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ladybug said. “From what I know of her, a gesture like that would mean the world to her, and I’ll bet she’s not as angry as you think.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because you wouldn’t go out of your way to help her if you didn’t share a special bond. You’re probably just as important to her as she is to you,” Ladybug said. “Talk to her. I think it will make you both feel better.”

Adrien pulled up his messages, thumb hovering over her name. Ladybug was right. The longer he avoided her, the longer they’d both feel this pain. Marinette would understand. He loved her, and he believed that she loved him too. Everything would be alright in the end so long as they had each other.

“Thanks, Ladybug,” he murmured.

“I’ll leave you alone now.” She palmed her yoyo but hesitated, turning over her shoulder. “That girl is really lucky to have someone like you watching over her.”

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her yoyo and shot off into the rooftops. Adrien drummed his fingers on his thigh, then stood up and headed into the house. Gorilla was playing a game on his tablet in the foyer when Adrien found him.

“There’s somewhere I need to go.”

♪♫♪ Death of a Bachelor ♪♫♪

Marinette hummed to herself while waiting for the kettle to boil. She stole glances at her phone, but it stayed quiet. Maybe he was just trying to figure out what to say. He was bound to call sooner or later.

When the doorbell rang, her heart jumped up to her throat. She raced to the front door, hoping her clumsy footsteps didn’t betray her eagerness. Taking a composing breath, she opened the door.

His head was low, one hand shoved in his pocket, and he looked up at her through timid eyelashes. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, his fear written all over his face. Marinette smiled, gesturing him inside, but he remained rooted in place.

“Marinette, I-”

“I know,” she said.

“You’re not mad?” he asked.

“Adrien,” Marinette sighed, giving him a gentle, scolding look. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are the sweetest boy I know. How could I ever be mad at you?”

Adrien stood stiffly in silence before his shoulders began to shake. He gripped fistfuls of her shirt, wetting her shoulder and nuzzling into her neck. Marinette held him, letting all of his worry wash between them like rain flowing down a roof. When clouds grew too heavy, they unloaded their burdens on everyone below, so Marinette stood under Adrien and let him rain.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” Marinette whispered, trailing her fingers through his soft hair. “I forgive you, Adrien.”

His sobs quieted, and he sat up, rubbing a hand across his red nose. The kettle on the stove screeched, and Marinette gestured him in again.

“Come on. I’ll make us some tea,” she said.

Adrien sat at the table, combing his fingers through his hair. She passed him a cup with a smile and took a seat beside him.

“I take it things didn’t go as planned with the interview?” Marinette asked.

“Not exactly,” Adrien grunted as if that were an understatement and took a sip. “Alya and some others still believe Lila is innocent, but there are a lot of us who think you are too.”

“Adrien.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.” He swirled his finger around the rim of the cup. “But I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. You mean the world to me, Marinette.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered, and she took a sip to hide her blush. The chamomile wasn’t strong enough to calm her nerves when he said things like that to her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to pass out.

Setting her cup down, she cupped his cheek, tilting his chin to face her. “Thank you for looking out for me. It’s really sweet, but you don’t have to solve all of my problems. Sometimes it’s okay to just let things go.”

“Yeah…” Adrien sighed.

“Promise me you won’t get involved anymore. Lila will dig her own grave eventually. It’s better if we just let it go and move on,” Marinette said.

Adrien leaned into her touch, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“I promise,” he murmured.

Her pulse quickened when those gorgeous green eyes softened on her. The air hung heavy around them, warming her skin from her cheeks to the very fingertips touching his skin. Goosebumps tickled the tiny hairs of her arms, Adrien’s magnetic pull drawing her in.

Marinette slipped her fingers behind his neck and tugged ever-so-gently. Adrien leaned forward, eyelids hooding. His lips parted, warm breath swirling against her own. Marinette closed her eyes, tilting her head to finally give respite to the tension that had been building between them for weeks.

But relief never came.

Her father threw open the front door, and the sparks between them crackled. They jolted away from each other, clumsily grasping for their cups as her dad waltzed in with a fresh loaf of bread. He read the tension between them, and undoubtedly, noticed their rosy cheeks.

“Am I interrupting something?” His eyes narrowed.

“No, Papa!”

“No, sir. No way.” Adrien took a long sip and cleared his throat.

“Are you sure? I was just bringing up some fresh bread to go with dinner. I can leave if you two are-”

“Papa!” Marinette growled.

“Actually, I should get going. My father will want me home soon.” Adrien stood up. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Yeah, no biggie,” Marinette insisted.

Adrien hesitated, flicking a quick glance at her dad, then lifting her hand to his lips. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles before fleeing out the front door. Marinette sat back, letting out a ragged breath.

“I ruined a moment, didn’t I?” Her dad winced.

Marinette offered him a smile, jumping up to place a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not the first time.”

“Is everything alright?” Marinette’s mother came through the door. “I passed Adrien on the stairs, he was redder than the strawberries on the cake we baked for Manon’s birthday.”

“I interrupted a moment,” her dad confessed.

“They were having a moment?” her mom gasped excitedly.

“Maman!” Marinette groaned.

“My little girl’s growing up so fast. She’s already got her first boyfriend. Before we know it, they’ll be bringing their kids over for Sunday brunch.” Her dad rubbed the tears forming in his eyes.

Marinette covered her face, willing this all to be a dream, but alas, she couldn’t fly away.

“Do you think Adrien would ever take an interest in baking?” her dad asked, and Marinette let out a moan.

“I’m going to my room. Call me when dinner’s ready,” she said.

“Next time Adrien comes over, we promise not to interrupt!” her mom called as she made her way up the stairs.

“That’s enough!”

“Should we invite him to dinner?” her dad asked.

“Good night!”

Marinette slammed her trap door shut and flopped against it with a sigh. She’d almost kissed Adrien—again! And after confessing how important they were to each other. Did this mean they were dating? Neither of them said the l-word, but maybe sometime soon…

She covered her face and giggled. Her boyfriend Adrien. She could get used to that.

#mdcspr #mdcsp #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years

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Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 15

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Aleksander struggles to share his secrets with Alina until he finds her upset and needing him.

Recommended listening: Lady A "Need You Now"

Chapter 15

They went on that way for a couple of days. Alina spent most of her time with the tracker. It tore Aleksander up but he permitted it for her. Most of Aleksander’s time was spent handling details of the war, receiving intelligence reports, and managing Ravka. Keeping everyone alive kept him focused.

It was the evenings he spent alone that were driving him mad. He kept thinking of Alina’s desire to be fully honest with each other and Fedyor’s words of the importance of knowing and accepting a partner wholly, even with flaws. He had always been a strategist, always played through all scenarios in his head a thousand times until he arrived at one he liked. No matter what scenario he envisioned with Alina, none of them ever turned out as he desired. He desperately longed for the kind of love and acceptance that Alina called for. There had been so many years alone where he had yearned for someone to share things with. However, every time he tried to plan the discussion of one of his secrets, it all went to hell quickly. He had even spent one evening writing it all out for her in the hopes that would help him solidify his thoughts. It hadn’t, and he’d burned it all as he realized how beyond stupid it would be to give her such information in writing.

The problem, he realized, was that he could eloquently justify every decision he had made, but no matter how he poured his heart out into explaining it all, none of that would make the truth any less horrible. Marie was dead--that knowledge would hurt Alina, and he just couldn’t stand the idea of her experiencing all that pain. Genya was his spy--without the centuries of seeing Grisha persecuted to understand what it meant if they lost this war, without seeing the king’s ineptness firsthand, seeing the battalions they had lost because of inadequate supplies and wasted funds, she would never be able to understand this decision. It was unforgivable to leave Genya in that situation. He knew it was, even if Genya had agreed to stay in it herself. That didn’t mean it wasn’t the necessary decision, too. They weren’t mutually exclusive, but Alina would never be able to grasp that. He had a way to potentially take control of her power and use it against her will--would she ever believe he didn’t intend to use it? Was that even really true? He had always hated the idea and told everyone they would not be using it, but deep down he had always known it was the back-up plan. Could he even say he didn’t intend to use it if he knew there were circumstances where he would? All the thoughts swirled in his head and threatened to take him past his breaking point. And then she would be there to help him sleep and somehow it was enough to get him through the next day.

He was stuck, and he didn’t see a way out of this pattern. He couldn’t stop thinking of ways to try to explain things to her. He needed her. His desire for her to actually accept him was overwhelming. But how could she? As he imagined trying to explain things to her, he saw things through her eyes. It was a fresh perspective, and what he saw was horrifying. It all caused him horrible guilt, and, yet, he knew he would make the same decisions again. Over the centuries, he had become numb to accepting the small pains to prevent the true horrors. Alina had reignited emotion inside him, and suddenly everything was raw again.

Aleksander looked at the clock and groaned. It would still be several hours before Alina would visit his chambers to help him sleep. He could not take another night of tearing himself apart while trying to come up with words to help Alina understand how the murder and torture of Grisha over the centuries had forced him to make harder and harder choices. He should get up and do something productive, something, anything to keep his mind active. The library might be a good idea. He thought he had most of the good sources on the Stag in his chambers, but there could still be some good books with more information on relics in general that he and David had not yet read that could at least keep his mind engaged. There was the added bonus that the library reminded him of happier times with Alina. He had never seen someone smile so broadly at books. The memory of stolen kisses between the shelves brought a smile to his face.

Decision made, Aleksander strode to the library. He froze when he saw Ivan hovering near an alcove. Ivan was supposed to be guarding Alina. Aleksander raised an eyebrow, and Ivan gestured with his chin toward the alcove. Years of working together made a silent exchange possible. Alina was in the alcove, and Ivan thought Aleksander should go in there.

“Alina,” Aleksander gasped as he took in her appearance. In her nightgown and robe, she was disheveled, hair a mess, with tears in her eyes.

She desperately tried to wipe the tears away when she saw him. “Aleksander.”

“You’re crying,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

He reached out and tilted her chin until she met his eyes. “You never let me get away with that line.”

The tears started to fall again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. To his surprise, she started sobbing. He tentatively sent his power through to her. It caressed against hers and begged for a response. This time, she let the connection flow between them. Emotions echoed back and forth with the familiar comfort of each other. She was sad, confused, scared. He was concerned. He made sure to let her feel his love for her, whether she wanted it or not.

“I missed this,” she whispered after a long while.

He blinked. Didn’t she know she was in control of that? He constantly longed for the connection with her. She was the one who decided when they were allowed to have this. “I missed you.”

She sighed and finally let go of the stress in her. In their bond, she pulled for his comfort.

“Did he hurt you?” It was a quiet question, but there was a clear threat in his tone. If the tracker had harmed her, there was nothing that would stop him from enjoying that man’s death.

“No,” she responded quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Are things not going the way you want with the tracker?” He tried not to enjoy that idea. Alina was hurting. That was bad even if it would result in the tracker being out of the picture.

“You’ll be relieved to know that we’ve realized what we are to each other and it’s family. I tried to kiss him. It was awful. So awful, Aleksander.” She made a face and then gave a soft little laugh. “I do love him, but that felt so wrong, and I realized it’s because he’s like my brother.”

“That is not why you are crying, though.” He could tell. He couldn’t let himself become distracted by the jealousy he felt at the idea of the tracker’s lips on hers, even if it was awful as she said. She was comfortable with the decision that the relationship with the tracker was not romantic. He might take more joy in that, but he could not because something else was devastating her. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“I’m afraid it will upset you.”

Because the tracker had actually hurt her? Because she was going to say something against Aleksander? Something to break his heart? “I can take it.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “If I somehow found a way to talk to you about the Fold, you can share this with me.”

She looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “I can’t. You’ll hurt him or ... lock him in the dungeons.”

So this was about the tracker. He might very much like to kill, mame, or at least imprison the tracker for whatever she was about to say next, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him unless he agreed not to hurt that idiot and she could feel that he meant it. He took her hand in his so she could get a strong read of his emotions. “I promise I won’t hurt him without your permission.” That, at least, he could agree to. He’d just convince her to let him kill the tracker if that was called for.

Unable to look him in the eye as she spoke, she focused her gaze on the floor and whispered. “He wants us to run away and hide. He has a whole plan. I tried to explain how I can’t do that. I can’t hide my power. I told him how sick it used to make me. I didn’t understand what was causing it at the time, but now I do and I can’t go back to not being able to eat or sleep, to feeling so exhausted constantly. Nadia told me some stories of Grisha who tried to suppress their powers and got seriously ill. But he just keeps saying it will be fine just for a little while.”

Aleksander tried not to react to the news that the tracker was trying to escape with her, but Alina could probably feel his response. Anger was there, of course, but more than anything it triggered his protective instincts. He swallowed as he tried to push away any concerns of the tracker stealing her out of his safe space in the Little Palace. That wasn’t why Alina had told him or what she was asking for his help with. “He doesn’t accept you as you are, but it’s only because he doesn’t understand you. What we are is impossible for him to comprehend.”

She leaned against his chest so he could wrap his arms back around her. “He keeps saying things against Grisha. Not against me, he says not me, but … I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it half the time. ‘We can’t trust her, she’s Grisha.’ ‘Those people always have tricks up their sleeves.’ Please don’t be mad at him. He isn’t trying to hurt me, but it does.”

“Prejudice against our kind is something learned at an early age. It’s so ingrained in Ravkan society, worse so in other countries, he probably does not realize that it is hate he is speaking.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to defend or slander him. It’s the truth you need to hear, Alina. He is otkazat’sya. You are Grisha. They have always hated our kind. Fight as we may to be accepted, we never are.”

“I’m tired of feeling so … foreign … other.” She sighed.

“Do you feel like that here at the Little Palace? When you are with me?”

“No, and when he says things like that … I … It’s stupid. I’m so stupid.”

She knew he couldn’t stand for her to put herself down, but he was trying to get her to open up and let all her feelings out, so he didn’t correct her. “Tell me. All of it.”

“I’m a mess, Aleksander. I’m such a mess.”

“You hold me together when I am a mess. I can do the same for you.”

“When he says things that hurt me, all I want is you. I miss you. I miss our connection. I find I can’t breathe when I’m not with you. There’s just this tightness in my chest that won’t go away. I long to reach out to our bond.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Maybe when he puts you down, you subconsciously reach for the only person who has ever made you feel like you are enough and worthy of being loved. I wanted to give that to you, Alina.”

“I’m so scared, Aleksander. I’m in here crying because I need you and I’m so scared to need you!”

“You have taught me it’s okay to need you. It’s okay to need acceptance and love, Alina. I offer those.”

“How can I need you if I don’t even know if I trust you?” Her voice cracked.

Aleksander sucked in a breath at the pain those words caused. “Because of what Baghra said?”

She nodded into his chest. “And the manipulation. If I didn’t know about the letters, what else don’t I know? What else are you doing to manipulate me? At times I think I am strong enough and I can tell when you are lying to me, so that will be enough for me to be able to stay in control of things with you. Other times I’m terrified that I’m still falling for you and I will end up your slave. I realize I’m not in control of anything. I don’t feel whole unless I’m with you! When I’m with Mal, I am constantly thinking of you. I thought that if I gave myself some space, I could separate from that and sort things out, but it’s only worse. It takes all my strength not to run to your rooms because I need you.”

He wanted to reassure her that he was worthy of her trust, but he wasn’t sure that was even true. Wasn’t he just a bit earlier going through the list of all the secrets he had kept from her? He hadn’t managed to confide any of them to her or even come up with a plan of how he could. “There’s so much you don’t know,” he admitted. “It terrifies me, too. Trying to find a way to share it all with you is destroying me.” It was the full truth for once. There were horrible secrets there. He did not want to be manipulating her. He truly did want her to know all of it now, but he wanted her to understand it all too. Figuring out how to make that happen was eating him alive. He focused on those feelings and opened their bond fully so she can know the truth of that. “I need you. I fear if I use the wrong words, you will leave me, and I will not survive.”

“So … we both are driving ourselves mad with self doubt and worry and the pain of being apart. What do we even do with that?”

“If I had come up with a solution, I would not still be tearing myself apart trying to figure it out.” He sighed at the familiar ache in his chest. “Do you … Do you want to just take a break from … trying to figure everything out? My only solace in life is you. If I am your only respite, can we not just give ourselves a night to have that?” He needed a break, and she needed his comfort. They both were in so much pain from trying to survive alone.

“I’d like that,” she admitted, finally looking up into his eyes.

Aleksander reached out his hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and the clenching in his chest finally relaxed. She wanted his comfort. He wasn’t quite sure what a break would look like to her. Would she just want to sit and read in the library? Hold each other perhaps?

Tentatively, he leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips parted, and her body arched into him as if she could not get enough of his touch. He was shocked at the flood of desire that she released through their bond. There was no doubt that she wanted more.

As much as he longed to make mad love to her right there in the bookshelves even with Ivan only an aisle away, it didn’t feel quite right to dive straight into ripping off her clothes. Their relationship was awkward and uncertain at the moment. They needed cuddles and contact and warmth before he reminded her what it felt like to have her body worshipped. An idea occurred to him. “Do you want to take a bath together?”

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

=========

Author Notes: I wrote this chapter a dozen times and deleted them all. Every attempt at writing Aleksander come clean was ridiculously bad. So I started writing about him feeling that way, and Lady A's "Need You Now" came on my station and inspired me. Aleksander was a mess of guilt, self-doubt, and fear until Alina needed him, and then the story just clicked and was so easy to write. All of the emotions felt right once he realized she needed him. He doesn't need to be perfect for her. He needs to be what she needs, and he can be that, even with the dark past. This version felt genuine to the characters, including Alina and Mal. Alina's future with Mal was miserable. I wanted to let her realize 'hey, I don't like this' and choose something else for herself.

#aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan #darklina #the darkling #alina x darkling

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

From All Sides (P.8)

Title: From All Sides (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,480 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Warnings for this chapter: Heavy violence!

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony jolted back, stepping out of the way of one of Ivan’s fists. He took advantage of Ivan being so close and landed a punch at the center of Ivan’s ribs. Ivan choked, the air knocked out of his lungs, losing his balance a little. Tony did not miss that and kicked at his calf. Ivan stumbled even more but found balance again. Tony backed off.

His hair clung to his forehead, sweat covering him. It glistened on his bare chest.

Again, Tony tagged Ivan up, landing a handful of strikes. But Ivan got his in and sent Tony into the wall. Pissed, Tony grimaced as he turned around quick just as Ivan was on him. Ducking out of the way, Tony blocked Ivan’s incoming kick and got another punch in. In the same spot he had hit before on his ribs and Ivan grunted. Tony had done that on purpose, hoping to crack Ivan’s ribs and it seemed he had.

Having the upper hand for even a moment, Tony used it to his advantage to sweep a kick and Ivan tumbled backwards. Tony was on him in a moment, laying punch after punch. Ivan held up his hands trying to block Tony but Tony’s fist collided with Ivan’s jaw, sending him sprawling, face to the ground. He was out cold.

The crowd around the pen erupted louder now. Tony stood up, straight, his breath loud and short as his heart pounded in his ears. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling the cut there that Ivan had given him early on and his ear hurt where Ivan had boxed him.

Tony backed off completely now so Ivan’s men could come collect him. He turned to the exit of the pen, eyes searching for Steve and the men he had brought with him. They were waiting and Steve intercepted him and told him that he needed to bandage up his hands. Tony looked down, seeing that yes, his knuckles were bloody.

But he had won. Now all he needed was a quick bath before returning to the ship.

<><><>

You were outrunning the crew, weaving in and out around people on the docks, heading further into the cavern’s expansive layout. You were not sure where you were going but you just kept running, tossing looks over your shoulder.

When you caught sight of Bucky closing in, you pumped your legs harder.

It was all for naught because the man had ridiculous speed. Your heart clenched as you heard his pounding footfalls right behind you and in that moment you knew you were going to be caught.

Bucky tackled you to the ground, slapping the gun away from you, sending it flying across the floor. He planted a knee directly into your chest, holding you fast against the ground. You tried to stab at him clumsily with the knife, but he gripped your wrist painfully with his metal arm. You cried out as he tightened his grip to cause your hand to go limp. He yanked the knife away with his free hand. You slapped helplessly at his thigh; he was crushing your ribs. You gasped for air, hands grasping his knee, trying to shove it off.

“Give me that rope!” Bucky barked at one of the other pirates that had caught up by now.

Tossing the knife aside as well, Bucky easily caught your forearms, pulling them up towards him. He held your arms close together before him.

“Tie her up!”

The other pirate did as you watched helplessly, wincing at the bone crushing grip Bucky had on your forearms. The extra rope was long hanging off your wrists and you were stuck tight.

Snapping his fingers, Bucky pointed at his gun. “Give me that!”

Your vigor was renewed, and you started kicking your legs, trying to bring at least one up to knee him in the ass. Bucky’s jaw was set, glowering at you. The man brought him the gun and Bucky pointed the gun at you and your mouth fell open, going limp immediately thinking he was going to shoot you. But he pointed the gun to the side and shot at the ground away from the pair of you.

“Stop making this more difficult than it needs to be, Y/N!”

In shock and your ears ringing, you blinked. Bucky holstered his gun again and stood up quickly before swooping down, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a bag of flour. How strong was this man to handle you like this?

“I told you that you were making a huge mistake!” Bucky said to you, his grip tight on you as he turned and began to stomp out of the room. “There was no way you were going to get away from me.”

Shock clearing, you squirmed in his arms, and he only held tighter. You used your tied hands to beat at his back and he only chuckled, which made you even more upset.

“Hit me all you want, dear. You’re not getting away from me again. I won’t disappoint Tony twice today.”

<><><>

“Where the hell is everyone?” Tony demanded as he approached Sam, who was standing next to the ramp, eyes searching the port. He immediately noticed that even more of the crew was missing than the small handful he had taken with him and Steve. Sam looked far too disappointed to see Tony which made him even more suspicious.

Sam sighed and said curtly, “They went ashore.”

Tony stepped closer, staring Sam down who to his credit was keeping eye contact with his captain. “Why do I feel like there’s something else you need to tell me?”

“They’re looking for Y/N. She left the ship.”

Tony was quiet, eyes wild. The silence scared Sam even more than if Tony had immediately burst. Still, the inevitable explosion caused Sam to flinch.

“Pray tell me how she managed to evade an entire fucking crew!” Tony barked. “I trust you! Or I should be able to trust you to follow my orders! And you cannot even manage one woman?”

“She had a knife. I don’t know where she got it. She tried to just walk off, but Bucky stopped her and she got the jump on him. Knife directly to his throat.”

“Then yank it away from her! Like Bucky couldn’t have overpowered her? Jesus Christ!” Tony hollered. “He’s gotten out of tighter situations before!”

“Well, she demanded his gun and he gave it to her and she used that to get off the ship by pointing it,” Sam went on and that information made Tony even more furious if it was possible. Sam quickly added in Bucky’s defense, “I don’t think he wanted to injure her for fear of angering you.”

“Letting her off the ship is angering me more! I thought that would have been clear but apparently no one thinks on this vessel! And who in the hell was supposed to be watching my quarters in the first place? Oh, right, Alexei. Where the hell is that prick?”

“Passed out. Nose was deep in a bottle,” Sam answered stoically. “Found him afterwards.”

Tony’s face was red, veins taut in his neck, as he tried to not scream. He shook his head furiously, taking a step back, head turning towards the dock. He wiped at his mouth, taking a deep breath.

“Bucky’s got her,” Steve announced from the railing, his head turned away from port to look at them onboard.

Tony stormed over to the railing, seeing indeed Bucky had her swung over his shoulder. To Sam, he snapped, “Where is Alexei?” Sam told him and Tony ordered, “Do not let Bucky put her back in the cabin. I want her to see this.”

Finding Alexei below deck, Tony gripped the hammock and upended Alexei unceremoniously. He circled around the hammock, eyes pinned in a rage at his crewman trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Tony did not give him much time to figure it out before he swung his fist down, clocking Alexei on the cheek, knocking him to the ground.

“What—” was all Alexei got out, pained before Tony hit him again.

Grasping the back of his hair, Tony tore his top half away from the ground, Alexei’s back bent back painfully in the process. Alexei’s eyes were unclear, a mixture of the drink and the fact Tony had just knocked his brain about twice in quick succession.

“I gave you a direct order to stay outside my cabin and make sure that Y/N did not leave!” Tony bellowed. “And what did you do? Go get yourself drunk and let her escape! And she ended up causing a lot of people grief in the process! You fucked up big time, Alexei!”

Tony let go of his hair and planted a series of hard kicks into Alexei’s side and stomach when he tried to roll away to protect his side. Alexei vomited from the last kick, clutching his stomach in pain. Tony was not satisfied yet, not even close.

Dragging him up the stairs and up on deck, the crew parted for him. Tony tossed him onto the deck, drawing a pained moan from Alexei. Y/N was staring at him in a mixture of disgust and horror beside Bucky, who was holding tight to the end of the rope around her wrists.

Alexei sputtered blood, his hands shaking as he tried to plant them on the deck to push himself back up. He only got up a few inches before Tony sent a rough kick to his backside, sending him sprawling again.

“I did not tell you to get up,” Tony snarled rabidly.

His eyes went around the circle of his crew, chest heaving. His knuckles were stinging, this being the second time he beat a man into submission today.

“This sorry sack of shit was supposed to be outside my cabin to make sure my lass did not leave. How hilarious I come back and find he had not done what I asked and instead found himself at the bottom of a bottle. What happens when someone disobeys a direct order from me?” Tony shouted out at his crew. “We know the answer to that, don’t we?”

Alexei blubbered, trying to ask for forgiveness for only a few moments, drawing Tony’s attention. His lip curled in disgust, and he sneered, “At least have some dignity, you scurvy dog.”

In a fluid motion, Tony unholstered his gun, aiming it directly at the back of Alexei’s head. He cocked it and the gunshot echoed.

As the smoke cleared from the shot, Tony holstered his gun again. Turning to Y/N, he pinned her with a glare. He stalked towards her, the crew silent as the tension between the two of them could be cut with a knife. She was cornered, her eyes full of fright. He was sure this was the first time he had ever evoked that in her and he found sick pleasure he had put it there.

“At least, that rule applies to the crew. My men. You on the other hand, no, I’ve got something else planned to teach you a lesson,” Tony seethed, staring deep into her impossibly wide eyes. “When I said do not leave my cabin, I fucking meant it. And since you can’t seem to follow directions, looks like I’m going to have to enforce it myself until you can learn to behave!”

To Bucky, he snapped, “I’ll deal with you later!”

Tony jerked her away from Bucky, feeling her stumble behind him as he stormed off. She was struggling to keep up with him. The crew parted again as he made their way back to his cabin. When they reached it, he pulled her beside him, throwing his door open. He shoved her inside in front of him and closed the door behind him.

“Tony—”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Dragging her to the bed, he snapped his finger at the floor and instructed gruffly, “Get on your knees.”

She looked indignant suddenly at the command, “I will not!”

Rolling his eyes, his patience growing ever thinner with her troublesome attitude, he gave a swift, light kick at the back of her knees, causing her to buckle. She tried to catch herself, but he was already using the momentum to shove her down to her knees next to his bed.

“Stop it!” she begged.

Tony snorted, “You must be mad if you think I am going to do that.”

She tried to crawl away when he gave lax on the rope, and he punished her with a yank. She hissed against the burn on her wrists. He gave another rough yank to bring her even closer to the bed, and she winced as her knees drug against the hardwood.

Looping the rope around the bedframe, he began to tie it expertly. Her eyes widened, realizing what he was doing.

“Tony, please don’t!” she pleaded as he tied it taut. She yanked helplessly against it, stuck against the built-in bed. She sniffled, tears forming. There was no way she was going to escape that without help. She gave another hard pull and whimpered audibly at the rope rubbing at her wrists.

Tony grasped her chin and demanded, “Stop it right now! You’ll rub your wrists raw!”

“Then untie me!” she said, trying to escape his grasp but he only held tighter, fingers digging into her jawline.

“You can earn your way back up onto the bed and out of those ropes with good behavior!” Tony let go of her roughly and she sunk further onto the floor.

Tears that had been collecting tumbled over now, fat down her cheeks. Tony was unmoved in his anger; he could not let her get away with disregarding his orders. He would break her down, make her obedient. And if that meant doing this the hard way and having her either hate or be afraid of him, then so be it. That was better than not having her at all.

Coldly, he told her, “Cry all you want. I told you what you need to do to get back in my good graces. It’s up to you, love. You know damn well how patient I can be. Just give me what I want and you can be comfortable. Those are the rules.”

With that, he turned away from her and grabbed fresh bandages off his table. He would get a crew member to re-wrap his hands for him since Y/N was disposed at the moment. He tossed her another glance, and she was watching him apprehensively, sniffling. He looked away, gritting his teeth before leaving the cabin, slamming the door behind him, having confidence this time that Y/N would not go missing if he left her alone.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark!tony stark x reader #dark marvel #my shit

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years

Text

The Queen

She is not playing dolls. She is stalking the halls; living off thrill of the kill. Marinette can smell fear.

this mini speech drabble is inspired by HBIC by @unmaskedagain and The Pigtails Are Off by @para-dox-normal

WARNING: MILD VIOLENCE , SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC

Marinette left the class, after depositing ribbons into the hands of a few of her classmates.

Alya turned to face Nino, whose hat was still drawn down, covering the upper part of his face.

‘What was that all about?’ She demanded. Nino sunk lower into his seat, casting a look towards Chloe, who huffed and stood up.

‘You all made a huge enemy today,’ she began.

Alix scoffed. ‘We’ve dealt with you a lot, we aren’t scared of you.’

This time, Sabrina spoke up, which clearly shocked the rest of the class who thought she was a spineless servant of Chloe’s.

There was a glint in her green eyes that wasn’t there earlier, making a shiver run down the class’ spines.

‘Oh, who said anything about Chloe?’

Now it was Juleka who spoke up, looking away from Rose who was grasping at her arm for answers.

‘You have no idea what kind of protection you just threw away.’

Ivan, fed up, slammed his fist into the table. ‘What the HELL are you guys even talking about?’

Nino looked up and smirked, which shocked Alya and made her take a step back, after noticing the sinister glint in his eyes.

‘You all are... new here. You don’t know how the Queen works.’

Kim stood up from his desk proudly, puffing his chest out. ‘I’ve been in this class one of the longest! 3 years!’

Nathaniel looked to him like he was stupid before shaking his head.

‘No. We have. I’ve been here 6 years, Chloe 5, Sabrina, 6, Juleka 5 and Marinette? 8.’

Juleka, Nino, Chloe and Sabina all spoke up in an oddly monotonous voice, walking towards the front of the class.

‘She is not playing dolls. She is stalking the halls; living off thrill of the kill. Marinette can smell fear.’

The class broke out into laughter. ‘Marinette? What can she do?’ Alya wiped a tear from her eye.

The others stared at her coolly and waited for them to stop laughing. Chloe stepped forwards and smiled.

The class was taken aback.

‘I don’t like any of you, so let me make this clear. Watch your back when you get to school tomorrow. Like Juleka said, you have no idea what kind of protection you just threw away. Marinette has been protecting you guys for ages, since the first minute you stepped into this school.’

‘Just because we don’t like you, doesn’t mean we’re evil enough to leave you..without a warning.’ Juleka smiled, cold flashing over her features.

‘I may be dumb, stupid, even. But I’m not that dumb to get on the wrong side of the Queen.’ Sabrina laughed.

Nathaniel made his way to the front before stepping next to Nino and in unison, they said;

‘Good luck. You’re going to need it.’

When Marinette reached home, she immediately shrugged off her regular grey jacket before digging into the closet to the item she had left behind for 3 years.

She reached to the black box sitting innocently at the back of her closet and pulled it out.

She opened it and unfolded the outfit that was inside, looking at it with a evil smile on her face.

Inside, there was black combat boots with silver studs, a black leather jacket with light pink and grey highlights and dark blue ripped jeans.

Marinette grabbed the clothes out and spent the night altering her old clothes, making it bigger and adding a small pocket in her jacket for Tikki to comfortably sit in.

The kwami knew of Marinette’s past of course, it was one of the first things the bluenette had confessed to the kwami about. Tikki was supportive of the old Marinette surfacing again. She was irritated by the way her class treatedher chosen, and wanted it to be over once and for all.

That hatchet was long forgotten, although the way Marinette ruled the school went unnoticed by the imbeciles in her class.

Marinette was--still is-- the Queen of her school. When she arrived in the beginning, she was not to be taken lightly and she earned her place at the top of the food chain.

There had aways been some sort of invisible barrier between the other students and Mlle. Bustier’s class. No one could get in, mainly due to Marinette’s influence.

Everyone in the school apart form that class knew about the Queen who sat in the sidelines. Marinette had some sort of protection over that class and if anything happened to them, you’d had to answer to her.

This made many of the students stay away, although they still made friends with the class.

The next morning, Marinette was early. Surprising, I know. But she knew her class always sat together in the courtyard until everyone arrived, and 15 minutes before school started, they would head up to the classroom.

If anything, Marinette felt rather relieved at not having to hide her status anymore. Word had spread, and there was whispering everywhere, glances at Mlle. Bustier’s table, who didn’t notice.

Alya heard many people whispering around her.

‘I must say, I’ll be happy to see the Queen in action again. It was a golden era.’

‘I know right! I feel sorry for the poor people who invoked the wrath of the Queen though.’

The doors slammed open, ad a tall shadowy figure strutted in as if she owned the place. Lila regarded her carefully.

Once the shadowy figure took enough steps forward, she stopped. Light illuminating her features to reveal Marinette.

Gone was the happy go lucky expression on her face, replaced with a steely determination with no trace of her usual smile.

Her hair, free from her signature pigtails, flowed freely down her back, wild, as if she just came back from the club with her boyfriend.

She wore her leather jacket and ripped jeans. She wasn’t even wearing a shirt, opting for a black sports bra. She zipped her jacket up till the bottom of her bra, before letting the sleeves of the jacket fall back on her shoulders.

She was wearing black pumps, almost 6 inches tall, which made the class’ jaws drop. Clumsy Marinette wearing heels? That almost spelled disaster.

The class could’ve sworn the temperature dropped as soon as she looked in their direction. A cold smile graced her lips, which were stained a blood red.

She lifted her right arm slowly, all the while still smirking at the class.

Everyone in the courtyard slowly raised their wrists, Nino and the others included. With sick dread pooling in their stomachs, the class noted with fear that everybody except them were wearing a red hair ribbon on their wrists.

They never took it off. Kim remembered asking Ondine why she wore it, even while swimming. She had looked to him before changing the subject hastily.

Alix recalled her brother, Jali, wearing one on his wrist, before Alix had gone to school at Francois Dupont.

Marinette walked slowly towards their class, swaying her hips with the aura of cool confidence surrounding her. Lila stuck out her foot to trip Marinette, who noticed and gave Lila a smile, before stepping directly on Lila’s toes, crushing it with her heel.

Marinette grinded her heel into Lila’s foot, and she could barely keep herself from yelling. Soon, she did and the class turned on Marinette, screaming profanities at her.

Lila’s toes were now bent in ways that shouldn’t have been possible, a sickening purple color. Surprisingly, no blood was exiting the toes, and Marinette internally rolled her eyes at how careless the class thought she was.

She whispered to Lila, although the whole courtyard heard.

‘You wanna fake an injury, Lila? I’ll give you an injury.’

Alya snarled and tried to slap Marinette.

‘What is wrong with you, you bitch!’ Her hand swung out, intending to meet Marinette’s face. And though no one blinked, Marinette’s hand caught Alya’s. Her fingers wrapped around Alya’s wrist almost seductively, before she smiled.

The smile reminded of the class of the old times, when Marinette used to have fun with the class, laughing her heart out when Kim snorted milk out of his nose.

That was how the class knew Marinette enjoyed breaking Alya’s wrist.

The bluenette squeezed Alya’s wrist with surprising strength, causing Alya to let go of the phone clenched in her hand, letting it fall to the floor, where Alya’s wallpaper glowed for a soft moment, showing Alya, with an arm wrapped around Marinette, before the bluenette stepped on the phone like she did with Lila, causing the screen to shatter and Alya to call out in anguish.

That call turned into a scream as the class watched Marinette mercilessly twist Alya’s wrist, breaking it with one resonating snap.

Marinette let go and watched amusedly as Alya flailed around, grasping her broken wrist in her fine one.

Marinette watched it all with a smile on her face, an exact replica of the happy, warm smile she gave when she hung out with her friends.

The class looked around and realised that none of the students around them looked the least bit shocked when the situation was occurring.

Adrien let out a quick breath. This was what Chloe meant by Queen.

And as Marinette turned to fix her cold eyes on the class, they knew they was done for.

Sabrina watched from afar with Chloe, smiling sickeningly as everyone in the class took their turn to get something of theirs broken.

Marinette saved Adrien for last. He smiled charmingly at Marinette, inching backwards, trying to use the fact that she had a crush on him in his favor. As Marinette paused, he exhaled quickly, thinking it was over.

Marinette took a step back. If she were to hurt Adrien, his father would most certainly murder her and Marinette wasn’t willing to waste more time on the blonde model than she already had.

Until Adrien called out.

‘Mari this isn’t you! Come bACK TO US!’

The courtyard swiveled their heads to look at the boy and no one flinched as her heel found his stomach.

There was a smile on Marinette’s face even after Adrien lost consciousness.

its kind of a bad ending but i couldnt think of how to end it with and im sorry bc its kind of violent but i think this is okay for now

#marinette #HBIC #not my idea #okay its not mine

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orangegreet · 3 years

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No Minor Miracles | Chapter 10

In the End, In the Beginning

In which we get a jail break and some deaths and some light and some life and maybe the end of the world.

The shrieking cries of the volcra overhead melted into the drumming of hooves across the earth.

All of it, loud and incessant and completely cancelled out by the pulse of blood pounding in his head. The circling thoughts that spurred him forward.

He is going to kill me in the morning. She had said.

Aleksander had never seen her look frail. Not in his memory.

The Grisha slaver bar that kept her powerless, kept the wrath of her Sun at bay, flashed through his mind again.

Fucking cowards. The Darkling pushed his horse harder. Faster.

The Shadows of the Fold reached for him as he passed just as worshippers extended hands of blessing for their Saint.

Behind him, Ivan and Fedyor urged their horses forward, almost falling out of the dome of Light he held overhead.

It had been easy this time—effortless really, to call the Light up from within himself. As if Alina herself had searched through his cupboards and produced it for him with a gentle smile.

Alina. His Alina. His person.

Held captive by a megalomaniac. A fucking degenerate otkazat’sya scum who would sacrifice every Grisha life in Ravka to gain a fraction of power.

Zlatan would soon learn true power. Would see and know it intimately as the force of his Darkness crushed Zlatan’s bones from the inside.

The horses were huffing but none of them faltered their gait. Aleksander was grateful. Fedyor had chosen well.

His Heartrenders had not questioned him when they learned Alina was in trouble and he would be going across the Fold to get her. Feydor left immediately to prepare the horses and Ivan, after a long look at his General, proceeded to delegate duties to the next in command.

It had not slipped Aleksander’s notice that Ivan would elect to follow his General into the Fold deferring his right to become the acting General of the Second Army. As was his rightful succession.

Ivan had scowled for the duration of the preparations which effectively relieved Aleksander of the urge to thank him.

The Darkling lowered his brow, narrowing his eyes as they neared what must be the middle of the Fold. A white stone building was crumbling on his right and the mirroring of events was painful to recognize—the way history often did repeat itself.

He had lived long enough to see that the adage was true.

A woman he loved, killed for fear of what she was, for fear of Aleksander himself, by a power-hungry individual trying to stamp out any threats to his reign.

Only now it felt like a chance to do it all again. To change it all; to rescue and to fix instead of fail and destroy.

It would be different this time. This was Alina. She, a Sun Summoner, an immortal like him and a woman who was stronger and more powerful than anyone could imagine.

A woman whom he had crushed mercilessly just a few weeks before.

Not for the first time since he had met Alina did Aleksander curse his own pride.

This might not have happened had he been able to come to terms with everything she had done and just forgiven her in that fucking cell. Forgiven her on the journey through the Fold.

Not left her alone in a field. Not buried her under the weight of his disappointment.

Had he not learned this lesson from years of experiencing the same treatment from Baghra? Another immortal who would use her years and her influence to leverage pain and guilt over him—shame him into doing as she wished? Into feeling the weight of her expectations with an unyielding rigidity?

Could he not have at least given her something to hold onto—something that said, I am angry and I am hurt but I am yours all the same?

No, instead he had crushed Alina and sent her back into the arms of a Grisha-loathing Secessionist to play spy. Fucked with her head and her heart and expected her to recover fine.

Expected her to be stoic in her duties and not slip up. As if he had been able to keep his head after their every encounter. He was a fucking fool.

They were so alike, he and Alina. In hindsight, her reasoning and her motives and decisions all seemed remarkably easy to understand.

He had been bitter at her for shutting him out. Hurt at her apparent lack of trust that she would not confide in him. It was fair that he should feel that way and yet, would he not have done the same?

Had their years been reversed, had it been Aleksander who was so fresh and new to the world, would he not have hungered and grasped for his own independence?

Alina did not want to need him anymore than he wanted to need her. He could not fault her for her actions—not for long anyway.

When he removed himself from the torturous back and forth they had both endured and inflicted on each other the last several years, Aleksander could not deny the plain truth before him: Alina was his match in every sense of the word.

Alina was and would always be the only one who could meet the depth of his power and counter it. Descend into the cavernous pain he carried and draw him out of it. Climb to the heights of his passion and somehow drive him higher.

It might be cosmic or ancient or fated by the Saints but even outside of all that, Aleksander simply wanted her. Alina. His Alina. Just as she was.

Aleksander wanted her very soul for himself and he would tie their Light and Dark together more completely than any paltry tether if given the chance again.

He is going to kill me in the morning.

He pushed his horse forward.

The city was eery in it’s quiet.

Aleksander shrouded their party of three in shadow as they trotted through the streets. His eyes were sharp but half of his focus was on the pull of the tether, guiding them closer to Alina.

He had zero intention of visiting her friends, despite her requests. Getting to her himself was far more important. Still, he slowed as they were nearing the place he knew they had held him weeks before.

“I fucking knew it! You will pay, Darkling.” A voice shouted from his left and he raised a fine blade of darkness only to feel that clenching in his chest once more. That blood thickening, heart seizing clutch of a Heartrender.

Aleksander growled at the spasm and the screaming Heartrender emerged from an alley. Ivan immediately used the same technique against her and Aleksander was free from the thrall once more. Fedyor sat on his own horse, working to restore his General.

“Stupid girl! He did not do this.” Baghra said, joining the fray from her hiding spot. “Stop. All of you!” She demanded, grabbing the Heartrender from the ground where she had crumpled under Ivan’s will.

The Darkling snarled at them both as he darkened the street with his irritation and shadows sloughed off of him in billowing sheets.

“Good. You’re making this quite easy then.” He said through clenched teeth.

He gripped his reins and cricked his neck to keep from killing both of them and barked out Alina’s message, “Alina is being held captive by Zlatan. She said he knows she is the Sun Summoner and asked me to warn you.”

Aleksander turned his gaze on his mother, growling the words at her, “Your Sun Summoner held captive by the man you traded her to in the first place.”

He glared at her. His thoughts screaming at her. Was this a better life for her, mother? Do you believe I would have done worse to her—worse to the world than terror Zlatan intends to unleash now?

He wanted to ask it. To make her hurt. To make her regret. There wasn’t time.

The reins were tight in his hands and he could not help the added insult he bit off as he left. “Do what you will with that news, you glorified Grisha slavers.”

Picking up his reins, he kicked his horse back into motion and continued through the streets.

“Darkling! Stop!” They called after him. Aleksander did not heed them. Alina called to him in the night and he would not give them another second of wasted time.

“Follow him then, you fools! He knows where she is!” Baghra’s voice echoed up the street. The sound of hooves followed and he knew they would not be far behind.

Aleksander tracked Alina all the way to a mansion on the wealthy end of the capital.

Ivan and Fedyor flanked him on either side as they dismounted. His gaze flicked to the people they now had in tow.

The dark haired woman he recognized as the Heartrender who tried to knock him out again. Next to her was large man and behind them stood four others, unknown to him and irksome merely in their culpability of Alina’s engagement and enslavement.

“I assume you are here because you are loyal to Alina.” He said with a clipped edge.

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him but she nodded.

“Very well. Seeing as I don’t know how many people we can expect inside, it would be foolish not to work together.”

They looked uneasy and the Darkling growled at them, his barely controlled rage spewing from his hands as his shadows blanketed around their ankles, “In case you are missing something, Alina is to be executed in the morning by Zlatan. I’m certain she is inside that home at this very moment and I will not waste time fighting the Grisha who put her there.”

He twitched his fingers and his shadows tightened around their calves. The Darkling watched with a sick grin on his face as they lurched in place.

“We are not following you, Darkling. We will get her out ourselves.” The woman said, pulling her leg free.

“I don’t think you will.” His voice was quiet and dangerous now. Ivan and Fedyor stood to behind him, preparing for a fight. “It was you who gave her to Zlatan in the first place. You’re the reason she is in there now.”

A few of the members shifted guiltily and the Darkling barked at them again, “How long since she lost contact with you?”

A few of them jumped but the Heartrender simply glared at him.

“A little over a week.” The man beside her said.

Aleksander growled at them, condemning them once more. “Reckless. Sloppy pieces of shit.”

“We will fight alongside you, Darkling. Tonight we will.” The man said. The woman glared at the ground but nodded.

Aleksander scrutinized them, loosening his shadows and forcing himself to turn away from them. “Alina is being held underground. Kill anyone who gets in your way but hear this—Zlatan is mine.”

Zlatan was not home.

Or, at least, those were the last words the guard could squeeze out of his throat before the Darkling snapped his neck.

It felt different to kill with his hands. Different wrap his fingers around a throat and twist. Different to physically touch the skin of someone as their life force abandoned their body. Still, it was the only thing that satisfied on this night.

The place had been crawling with First Army soldiers. West Ravkan soldiers, as they preferred to be called. He and his Heartrenders and his borrowed Grisha army had swarmed the home like a plague and he winded his way toward the back of the house, looking for access to the basement.

Underground. He knew she was underground.

“General!” Ivan called from the next room over. Aleksander entered the small parlor where Ivan was unceremoniously shifting a corpse across the floor and lifting the rug from the edge of the room.

A hatch.

The Darkling lifted it and grasped a lantern from the wall.

“Find Fedyor.” He said to Ivan as he began to descend the stairs into the floor, “I will get Alina and we will set out for the Fold again.”

Ivan hesitated by the door.

“Fedyor, Ivan. Find him first. Then we will go together.” Ivan nodded and left.

When he found her, she was asleep.

Beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes and a pallor to her skin. Both of which had little to do with captivity or starvation and everything to do with the fact that she was an extremely powerful Grisha forced to suppress her power.

Aleksander gingerly lifted the slaver bar, extending her arms out in front of her and laying the bar on the ground.

He conjured the Cut and sliced through one end, as close as he dared cut near her wrist. He took a breath and severed the other side.

Aleksander tucked his arms beneath hers and pulled her into his lap, her head lolling back against his shoulder as his hands met around her stomach.

“Alina.” He said in her ear. A kiss to her cheek. Another to her hair.

“Wake up, solnyshka. You are freed.” Alina stirred in his arms and, with little ceremony, he brought her hands together, forcing her to conjure the tiniest amount of Light. Hoping to feed her a little before they had to move again.

The chamber around them was forced into relief, putting the little gas lantern to shame.

Her eyes fluttered and Alina sighed, sinking into him. Her back pressed into his chest. “You’re here.”

Her forehead fell against his jaw and he could not help the way he held her face there, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the Saints for this moment. For her voice and her Light and her life. That she was not gone from him.

When his prayer was done he whispered more words to her. “I’m sorry, Alina. I am so sorry, my love, my Star.”

Her hand caressed his jaw and he nuzzled her in return. Her silence now assuredly attributed to her fatigue as opposed to malice for him. “Come along, we will help get you out.”

And then, to his added relief, “General!” Ivan and Fedyor emerged. Fedyor, clutching his side but otherwise smiling at the sight of Alina and her Light and the way she was sitting up in the arms of the General.

“If the Sun Summoner is able, we must move. They are calling in others now. We cannot face many more soldiers tonight.” Ivan advised.

Aleksander nodded, pushing from his legs into standing and bringing Alina with him.

Her thin, white shift snagged against the buckles of his kefta and with a sharp pang he remembered how she had clasped them together herself in the dacha.

How she had dressed him in his black kefta and his traveling cloak and her hands had smoothed the core cloth and then she had begged him to run away with her.

“Ivan. Come hold her up for a moment.”

Aleksander removed his kefta and threaded her arms through the sleeves. His fingers worked quickly on the clasps and when she was covered in the warm black shield, the only protection he could give to her right now, he lifted her into his arms.

The other Grisha, her ‘friends’ were waiting by the exit. At the sight of her, it looked as if they would reach for her. Expect him to turn her over to them.

The Darkling practically hissed at them, holding her away from them, but it was Ivan who was done with it all.

“Out. Everyone. More are coming. Get to the horses and disperse. They cannot chase us all.”

Everyone dispersed, the woman with a lingering glance at Alina. The three men hurried to their horses and the other Grisha to theirs, quick and silent in their movements.

They had just mounted, the General adjusting his posture in the saddle as Ivan lifted Alina into his arms, when the unmistakeable sound of a dozen horses echoed through the streets.

The General looked at Fedyor, hunched on his horse and waiting for Ivan to join him—he would need assistance on horseback with his injury. Ivan and the General locked eyes.

“Go. Get a head start. We can handle them.” Ivan said.

Aleksander almost protested and then Ivan had slapped his horse on the haunches with a firm hit and Alina jolted in his arms as his horse took off down the city streets.

The pursuit was something of a blur.

The West Ravkan soldiers followed them through the streets, tracking them until they reached the edges of town. Aleksander and Alina were saved more than once by the help of a Tidemaker or Squaller who was hidden in plain sight and ready to impede the pursuing enemy.

He was glad for it as he felt helpless to do much else at the moment. Alina seemed so precarious in his arms and he wondered if they had not done more to her in captivity than prevent her from using her Light.

Wondered if they had performed experiments on her. Bled her and drained her. She should not be so frail from a week of captivity. Not his Sun.

Still, they were nearing the Fold now and Aleksander would need his hands to gather Light if they were going to cross.

“Alina, please. If you can, sit up and lean against me. I need your help to get through the Fold.” Alina stirred, her eyes flickering again.

“‘M sorry.” Feebly, she brushed her hands against each other and sighed as she illuminated everything around them. Like the burst of a dawning Light she lit up their location and Aleksander panicked.

“No! Alina! Stop!”

She did not know. Could not know what she had done. Horses gathering in force sounded behind them, locked on their location now and Aleksander pushed his own horse hard toward the safety of his creation.

The blight he left on the earth. The thing which he meant to protect him and all Grisha would now have to protect him and his Sun.

History would not repeat itself. He would not let her die tonight.

“The Sun Summoner!” He heard the shouting echo across the field even as they neared the black curtain. True dawn was breaking on the horizon. The reddish glow mixing with her bright white.

Aleksander tucked Alina further into his chest, holding her with the frame of his arms and she was finally waking up.

“Sasha. Where are we going?” Her eyes opened, the black Shadow Fold billowing across their vision.

“Oh good. I do like it in there.” She said, absently, “It’s like being covered in you. So familiar. Always so familiar. Even before I ever met you, going into it was like being home.”

Alina sounded delirious now and Aleksander wanted to cry. He swallowed it down and answered her.

“Yes. We are going into the Fold now. I might need your help to Light it—I don’t have my hands free.”

Alina nodded, squeezing his thigh in response and Aleksander heard another set of hooves drawing closer.

“Now Alina!”

Alina conjured her Light and the dome put his to shame. It was broad and beautiful and white, splitting the curtain of the Fold as they entered.

The Light was too big. Too bright. Others had joined them under the dome.

Aleksander urged the horse faster but he knew it was long tired from their long evening.

“Alina, please, pull your Light in just a little.” He urged.

It was useless. Alina’s hands were no longer touching and her Light shone from her anyway. Persistent. Bright.

Her consciousness was wavering and the Light brightened and he could not tell if he was adding to it or not.

“Sun Summoner! Halt!”

Gunfire. His horse faltered. Aleksander looked around frantically but realized it was only a graze to the flank. His horse was good, strong, used to battle and gunfire. It carried on.

Darkling! I know you’re in there! The voices from the past echoed in his head and he knew they were not there and history would not be repeated on this night.

Aleksander could not bring his hands together though. He was terrified Alina would fall and their horse would slow down and all would be lost again.

They neared the center of the Fold. He could feel the pull of the creation point. It called to him. More than it ever had before. A persistent tug on his tether. The same tug he felt when Alina called to him.

Perhaps something in the Making at the Heart of the World was rooted into the Fold as well. Perhaps creation simply echoed from this very spot.

The beginning of time, the creation of the earth, the creation of the Fold.

Perhaps it all centered here in this magnetic pull and out of it’s gravity, Alina and Aleksander were born. Shadow and Light. Magnetic poles arrived to stabilize an otherwise wavering world. Arrived to hold everything and everyone in balance.

More gunfire. “You are still my betrothed, Sun Summoner!” Zlatan was with them, taunting them.

Here’s the little witch who’s been stitching him back together. Aleksander shook his head, willing the words away.

Adrenaline was spiking and Aleksander looked helplessly up at the white Light overhead and brought his hands together to conjure the shadows. He tried to direct them and felt Alina slip a few inches in his grasp, her feet lolling dangerously around the front legs of their horse. A few more inches and she would impede his gait. Would pull them all down.

“Fuck.” He cursed, anxiety mixing into his fear as he clutched Alina by the stomach and pulled her back up.

“The Black General! Did you see the shadows. That’s the General of the Second Army!”

“Are you intending to kidnap my fiancée, General?!” Zlatan shouted behind them.

Stand down, Grisha! The white stone building illuminated beneath the dome as it had not been illuminated in centuries. So bright he could not look at it directly.

Darkling! I know you’re in there!

More gunfire and this time a bullet found his back. He lurched and clutched Alina to him, willing her to hold on in case he lost his grip. Willing her to be hidden completely from their range. Shield her with himself.

The horse was slowing. The graze from before was bleeding profusely now. More than a graze evidently. Blood was spilling heavy down the buckles of the saddle.

“Sasha?” Alina questioned. His hands brushed over the black kefta he had covered her in, bulletproof and safe.

History would not repeat itself.

Another shot. Their horse was trotting and the enemy was upon them, just yards away as the beast came to a stop. As it kneeled.

He and Alina rolled to the side, hidden behind the safety of their horse. The horse who was giving it’s life for them.

Aleksander was growing cold. Shock. Bullets in his back. Bullets in his side.

He looked at her. His Light. His love. Bullet now lodged in his stomach. That was the one that was killing him.

He peaked over the top of the horse. His eyes caught on the anxious West Ravkan General who kept one eye on the wavering Light overhead. One last act. Aleksander could do this for his love. One last act to show her no one would dare hurt her on his watch.

He lifted himself to kneel. His arms sweeping out from his sides and gathered the lingering Shadow—it was waiting—ready to do his bidding. One last dark deed. The thin blade was formed so quickly. Aleksander released it.

The surge of victory at watching the head and shoulders of Zlatan detach from his body filled his chest and warmed him even as he watched Zlatan’s soldiers stagger their horses away from the mess in horror. Those men did not matter.

She was safe. He had done what he should. History would not repeat itself on this night. Aleksander was so tired. He could not reform the Cut if he tried.

“Aleksander?”

Alina looked more awake. He was relieved. Finally, she was bouncing back. Too late for him but early enough for herself. To save herself. Everything would be okay for her. That was what he wanted.

A better world for her. She would lead it.

“Alina?” She looked at him and he realized he had seen this look before. Only, he didn’t remember until now.

“I am having the strangest sense of déjà vu.” He said.

Tears were slipping out of her eyes and he was watching her and he felt certain now that he had seen this all before. A snowy battlefield, flecked with blood.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She tried to pull his face up to hers. A Fjerdan wolf dead beside him and Alina yelling at him on the other.

“What are you doing? Stop. No. You said—not again. Please.” Aleksander watched her eyes close and her face was pinched in pain and it hurt to see her hurt. She had called him weak, weak for leaving her. For dying.

“Don’t cry, solnyshka. You will be safe and that is what matters. You will make the world safe for all of our people.” His hand touched her cheek.

Zlatan’s men had not come close and he could only assume it was for fear that she would rescind the Light or fear he would send another blade of shadow. His mouth tasted like bile and tinged with the metallic taste of blood.

“You have the advantage in here, Alina. The Fold is a place only you can conquer.” He smiled and it was almost whimsical in nature. “It was made from me, after all. You were made to conquer me, were you not, little Star?”

Alina hiccuped a laugh and grimaced at the pain in her weakened body.

“Don’t leave me, Sasha.” She said and he frowned at the sign of defeat in her shoulders. His own eyes filled with tears. He had done this with her before.

“I do not want to, Alinochka.” He whispered and his vision was blackening and only had a few moments to say what he wanted. “You have inspired me, Alina. Made my life good. You will inspire everyone. Do not doubt it.”

Her mouth kissed his and he saw blood on her lips when she pulled away. “Please, Sasha. I cannot go on without you.”

Their tether was sizzling and splitting in his chest, itching to burst forth.

Aleksander was dying. “I’ll find you in the after, Alina. I swear it.”

Her hands were shaking.

They trembled as she touched his face.

His features were slack, no quirked brow, no glare for her. No devious, cunning smirk.

No breathless, open smile, as if he just realized he was caught staring.

Instead she smoothed her quaking hands over his cheeks, pulling him fully into her lap.

The horse at her back took a shuddering breath. It too, was dying. Would be dead in another minute.

Zlatan’s men were there. They were still yelling. That much registered in a distant back room of her brain but then she closed the door.

Everything was muffled.

A tiny pinprick of light illuminated them now. It was small and Alina felt it dying out inside herself, growing dimmer with a smothering loss.

The men moved to stand closer than she would like, their exit from the Fold far too far away to survive on their own.

She did not look at them. They did not move toward her, their fear of the volcra kept their eyes turned up.

It was possible to pull him back. Aleksander. She could bring him back.

She had done it once. Reforged the broken tether and tied his life back to hers. They were Inevitable. One would not exist without the other—not while she was around to ensure it.

He was dying and she was suddenly reaching desperately for their tether. Their lifeline. She forced it to the surface, the fractured electric thing barely connected to their chests. A sliver of light held onto his body.

She wrapped his limp hand around the tether and covered it with her own.

Together they ventured into the abyss. Into the Making at the Heart of the World. That place that belonged to them alone.

Only—

Aleksander was just as lifeless here. His eyes were still closed and she could not feel his breathing.

Alina felt herself beginning to panic. Anxiety and panic and chemicals in her brain lighting her up with a dying surge of energy.

She poured into him all the Light she contained. Drove her beams into his chest over and over and over. Could not explain why she was doing it. It made no sense. She was no healer and maybe her Light would only drive his Shadow farther and farther away from her.

But, it could only be them. It could not be one without the other.

Where Light traveled, Shadow was compelled to follow and she will not allow him to abandon in his duty.

Not now.

Nothing was happening and as her Light surged, the abyss itself began to fade around them.

Quite suddenly, they were back into their pocket of the Fold and those insignificant West Ravkan soldiers were still surrounding them. Crowded close. Terrified that her light would blink out completely and the volcra would descend.

Alina clutched for their tether again. Nothing but the frayed end of rope was returned. Spitting and hissing electricity like a live wire.

Nothing to ground her anymore. Nothing to hold her to the earth. Nothing to balance her out.

Hemorrhaging Light filled up inside of her chest.

Aleksander was gone. She was alone.

In the beginning, Light had joined Darkness. In the end, Darkness had left the Light and all this debating she had done over whether or not to end the world and start over was so silly.

It had never been a choice. A path she could choose to take or not to take.

Alina was alone and the wrongness of it was impossible to overcome. This was not choice. This was Inevitable.

In the end, Light would shine bright enough to blind all of creation. Blind everyone and everything and nothing would be seen but Darkness. Beautiful, glorious Darkness.

In the end it was not a choice that she made.

In the ending, this was as Inevitable as they had been.

Alina stared at the soft, blank face of her love, lost to her in the here and now.

Saint Alina, Sun Summoner and Mother of the West looked up toward the sky.

She opened her mouth and let loose an unholy wail.

White hot Light burned out of her mouth in a beam that ripped through the Shadow around her and overhead. She could not stop the wave of energy anymore than she could stop her own anguished grief.

Aleksander was limp in her lap and it was finally happening. The Sun Summoner was combusting from the inside and the power of the Sun would ravage her body and rend it to shreds.

That did not matter anymore.

Nothing else mattered in this moment.

The heat surged around her and she did not even register the shrieks of Zlatan’s men or the volcra as they burned up in the light that touched them. Gone with very little fanfare in the end.

But then, the entire earth would be gone with little warning and no time to grieve. No time for regret even.

Light poured from her body and scorched the earth and expanded within the Fold farther and farther in a growing radius around her.

Her and her Shadow, alone at the center. The center of the Fold, the center of life itself.

Had he longed for Alina before he created the Fold? Had he known she could exist before he unleashed his Shadow and necessitated a Sun Summoner join him? She could not ask him in this life and so she did not want this life anymore.

At last, she was going to blink out of the world.

Shining out of it with the blinding, fiery fury of a collapsing star, imploding from the inside.

Alina was powerless to stop what had begun.

What force could possibly contain her anymore?

She was so young. She could not keep it in any longer. Never learned to control it properly. Perhaps she was never meant to.

The radius of her light had expanded to the edges of the Fold and where it was erased from the earth, more daylight rushed in and illuminated the scene.

The fire Light was hotter than any she had ever created. Maybe hotter than anything that had ever existed.

Hotter than the fire and combustion of creation itself. Hotter than the Light that burned at the Making at the Heart of the World. She should know, shouldn’t she?

It was past the point of return and the Light would surely swallow everything in its path.

It was beyond anything known. It was beyond the beginning. She would forge a new beginning, though she did not mean to do it.

It was happening now and no one could stop it.

And then—

Something was knitting itself inside her chest.

Born from the fiery core or maybe born from that solitary cool bit of Shadow that she knew lay just beneath her power. That bit of Shadow inside of her that stabilized it all.

Her chest was itching and then Shadow was swirling into her Light.

“Alina.”

His voice reached her and she prayed her thanks to the Saints that he was on the other side of all of this. He was waiting for her.

She had collapsed the world to get to him and it had worked.

Aleksander stirred in her arms, flesh untouched by the ancient power emanating from her being. They were not in the After. He was returned to her on earth. Untouched.

Untouched because Light would never be able to conquer Shadow. Not completely.

Her wailing stopped but she looked at him helpless as she continued to burn. Light beams emanated from her limbs and out of her chest and her gut and every inch of her skin.

Who could stop a star from dying?

Aleksander cupped her face. “It is going to be all right, solnyshka. I know what to do.”

His thumb stroked her cheek, soothing her.

Of course he knew what to do. He had done this very thing four centuries before. Only he had not had Alina to help him. To push back on him and his Shadow.

Aleksander closed his eyes. Shadow denser than she had ever seen—denser than the Fold itself, poured out of him.

Where her star fire was loud with the vibration of radiating energy, his dark matter was deadly silent. It slithered to the very edges of her Light’s reach and encapsulated it.

The world went dark around them. There were no volcra here. No screeches or voices. There was only they two. Shadow and Sun. Dark and Light.

A dying star, shining it’s brightest at it’s imminent collapse and the black hole born from the sheer power of the supernova.

The dark matter swirled and undulated and it was an unyielding master of the Light.

Alina watched it awe as it pulled on every ray that attempted to escape. The Dark curled around it, cooling it, taming it into submission.

Alina gasped for breath, the column of light pouring out of her was gentling at last and cooling off.

“Look at me, little one.”

Her eyes blinked with bleary tears.

“At me.” He said again, coaxing her face.

Her eyes met his steady gaze.

“Breathe with me. We will survive this.”

His voice was soft and unwavering and she burrowed into the assurance it offered.

Her Light gentled and dimmed and then faded entirely at the center of the black hole he created.

Her eyes stared into his. She gave him a small smile which he returned. Both of them captivated in the silent awe of what they created.

Alina laughed. A watery laugh as tears poured down her cheeks and he kissed them over and over.

She sighed, weariness overcoming her and Aleksander soothed her and she let her eyes close, submitting to her exhaustion.

Only then did he call the dark matter back into himself, allowing the natural light of the morning to beat down on them.

They huddled together, centered in the fresh, circular lesion at the heart of the Fold. The buildings of Novokribirsk discernible on one side of him and the army outpost in Kribirsk on the other.

He surveyed the damage, miles wide inside the fold. Wide enough for a small village.

The only casualties were easily explained away. Zlatan and his men no more than dust in the desert. Who would care for the disgraced general and his men? The monsters who would seek to kill the Sainted Sun Summoner?

No one need know how close she came to rending the world apart. No one would know this was an accident—that her powers got away from her.

He could spin this. This—an obviously intentional attempt to banish the Fold—the people would weep and bow at her feet as they were meant to do. The people would not come for her in their fear.

His hands cradled her sleeping form and he allowed himself a smile.

“You cannot escape me now, Sol Koroleva. You watch us. Together we will drag this world into a new age.”

He kissed her cheek, her answering breath somehow, miraculously cool against his skin. He pulled her head close and held her, whispering in her ear.

“When you wake, the world will have been made new.” He stroked a hand over the back of her head, her hair white and gleaming in the morning sun. “You delivered it another miracle." He laughed to himself, tears tracking into her hair from his cheeks, "My cursed, relentless little Saint. Just another miracle.”

#darklina fic #darklina fanfic #darklina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #power dynamics #politics #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #physics #theoretical physics #darklina server

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sailorgreywolf-legacy · 3 years

Note

"Come closer" with USMex please?

America was looking in the mirror carefully combing his hair. He knew that coming face to face with the Soviet Union meant that he needed to be impressive in comparison. It meant that he had to be careful with his appearance in a way that he usually was not.

As France was fond of telling him, the way he looked reflected on the West because he was the face of the free world. He gave up on trying to get his cowlick to lay flat, since it was a battle that he had fought many times and failed. For all of his effort, his hair clearly had a mind of its own and it was folly to try to tame it.

He glanced at his tie, and his jacket. Both tastefully black, though he would have much preferred some color. It was supposed to make him look serious and imposing. Appearing to be a child next to Russia would have been a death sentence for his cause. So, for the moment he put aside his personal taste for the sake of being taken seriously. Europe was much older than him, and he was painfully aware of how many of them still saw him as a child if he did not make an effort not to look like one.

He gave his reflection one more long glance and sighed. He looked like a very serious gentleman, and it felt slightly wrong. He wanted to have some piece of himself to avoid the feeling that he was dressed up in someone else’s clothing. Mexico spoke behind him, “Looking for these?”

America turned to see him holding out a pair of cufflinks. The sapphire stars that he saved for special occasions. He replied, “You don’t think it is too much?”

He would very much like to have the bit of color, but he knew he was no judge of appropriateness. Mexico, on the other hand, had exceptional taste and a trained eye for these things. It was second only to France. Whatever his tendencies towards exhibitionism, he did know more about fashion than America had ever had the patience to learn.

Mexico chuckled and said, “You’re allowed to be a little bit eccentric.” He touched America’s cheek gently and added, “It’s part of your charm.”

America felt a warm glow in his chest at the compliment. He did love reminders that Mexico loved him and found him charming. Sometimes he doubted it, especially when they fought and he became painfully aware that Mexico had other suitors.

He took the cufflinks with a warm smile, and said, “I’m glad you think so.” He slipped them into the buttonholes of his cuffs. He was glad for the permission; they felt like a bit of comfort.

As he did so, Mexico changed the subject, “Have you practiced your speech?” His raised eyebrow hinted that he suspected the answer before he even asked. America felt the slightest hint of shame as he said, “That isn’t really my style. I speak from the heart.”

He had thought about a few of the points that Russia may raise, but he knew that his moments of brilliance were never prepared beforehand. Mexico shook his head slightly and said, “That is what Ivan will be expecting. He will try to goad you into anger to make you look bad.”

America was slightly skeptical, because it sounded like he had come to that answer too quickly. It seemed that Mexico had given the subject some thought. He said, “How do you know that he’ll do that?”

Mexico smirked in a way that was irresistibly charming and said, “It’s what I’d do if I really wanted to make you look bad. You’re passionate, but it can get the better of you.”

America would usually feel a twinge of mistrust, but he felt like Mexico was not being disloyal by warning him. He said, trying to be playful, “I’m not sure I like how much you’ve thought about that.” Mexico chuckled and said, “Are you really that surprised? I know you better than anyone.”

America shook his head. In truth, he was sure that their breakups had produced some bitterness. It would not surprise him that Mexico had come up with some ideas for revenge. What mattered was not that he had thought about the ways that he could hurt him. It mattered that he had never actually done it, which did suggest that he was loyal.

America took a deep breath and tried to get his mind back on the meeting rather than questions of his relationship. He would certainly be in trouble if he was busy focusing on Mexico instead of the Soviet Union.

He turned the conversation back to the matter at hand, “Well, I have not practiced. So it doesn’t matter.”

Privately, he doubted that Russia would have any idea how to rile him enough to make him lose his focus. Mexico had insight into him that someone he had never romantically been involved with never could have.

Mexico said, “I guessed that you wouldn’t.” He put his hand into his suit pocket. As he withdrew something compact and white, Mexico continued, “So I went to the liberty of making you note cards.”

He pressed a stack of cards into America’s hands. The thought of rejecting the help crossed America’s mind only briefly, but he dismissed it. Mexico certainly had a way of charming people and making himself heard, so perhaps it was not a bad idea to take some advice.

He took the notecards and flipped through them quickly. They seemed quite detailed, and he could admit that it would be helpful to have the cards on hand. Then he said, “You know me so well. But I’m not going to read a speech.”

Mexico’s little smile was very cute. Sometimes America let himself forget how sweet his partner was capable of being. Mexico said, looking almost smug, “I know. That’s why they’re just notes in case you get flustered.”

America felt himself smile. He could tell that Mexico had really thought through the plan, and it was touching. Mexico added, “Just remember to check your notes. And make sure to smile. You’re so handsome when you smile; it’ll win over everyone.”

America would very much like to smile for his partner. He found it incredibly endearing that his partner was trying to help. He felt himself bite his lip as he thought about something that had been bothering him for a few days.

He put his hand on Mexico’s shoulder and said, “Come closer.”

Mexico obliged him with a bemused smile. America thought carefully about what he wanted to say, because he wanted to be sincere. He put his hand on Mexico’s face. He drew in a deep breath before saying, “I want to talk about Cuba.”

He could see the way that Mexico’s face fell at the words. It was clear that he had been expecting something sweeter, and not the cause of their most recent fight. Mexico said, in a voice that sounded like he was trying to avoid conflict, “Alfred, do we have to do this now? You need to focus.”

America had expected as much, but he was not about to start a fight. He took another deep breath to make sure that what he said was calm, and then said, “I want you to know that I am not mad at you. I know I reacted poorly.”

He knew that his shock and frustration at Mexico’s decision not to isolate Cuba had come across as anger, and he did not want the cloud of mistrust to hang over their relationship. As much as he tried, he could not quite bring the word sorry to his lips. It would have to be enough to say that he knew his reaction had been unwarranted. He continued, “I do understand that he is your friend, and you want to stand by him. You do not have to do all of this work to show me that you’re loyal.”

He was trying to be sincere, so he was surprised when Mexico let out a sigh. It sounded like he was frustrated, but America could not imagine why. Mexico shook his head and said, “I’m not doing this to show you loyalty. I’m doing it because I love you.”

To make the point he kissed America softly on the cheek. America instinctively wrapped his arms around Mexico’s waist and pulled him even closer. He said, “I love you too. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Then he kissed him firmly on the lips. The way that Mexico melted against him assured him that his words had hit the right mark.

#finally got through my writing block

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dimitribelikov · 4 years

Text

The Belikov Chronicles: Becoming a Mentor

✶ What if I rewrote different scenes but from Dimitri’s point of view? I have no idea if this is something people are interested in, but this was too fun not to write. Honestly, for all the times Rose is going on about what a god Dimitri is, it’s too amusing to imagine that he’s thinking he’s a total weirdo most of the time. ✶ trigger warnings : some adult language ✶ ship : none but hints of romitri I guess, as well as hints of Dimitri/Ivan ✶ notes : All dialogue is taken straight from Vampire Academy, chapter 2, written by Richelle Mead. The rest is mine.

✶✶✶

As the double doors opened and we walked into the commons, it seemed as though every set of eyes in the place turned on us. Ok, not much as us as they were on her. Rose Hathaway had been walking by my side, but clearly feeling the effects of scrutiny, she began to lag a little. It was certainly a cruel punishment to walk her though the throng of her peers, like dangling a piece of meat in a lion’s den. Headmistress Kirova had requested it, wanting to teach her and the Princess Vasilisa a bit of humility. Honestly, after the stunt they pulled, I couldn’t help but think a slice of humble pie would do them some good.

But my thoughts weren’t on the effects of a public, teenaged shaming. I was still thinking about the short conversation I’d had with Rose on the plane. Meeting her had exceeded my expectations. When I was tasked with apprehending Janine Hathaway’s daughter, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. Janine was a well respected guardian, one that I’ve had to honor of meeting on more than one occasion. Her work, the stories of her past, continue to inspire me, but if I’m being honest, she also terrifies me. Janine is someone not to be messed with, so naturally her daughter would seemingly follow suit.

From the moment Rose squared off with us, ready to take on a whole team of experienced guardians by herself, I knew she had her mother’s fighting spirit. But when I asked her about it, why she’d do such a thing when she was clearly outnumbered, she answered with such conviction that I couldn’t help but be taken aback. “Because I’m her guardian.”

She wasn’t of course. Not yet. But while I was supposed to be reprimanding her for such a foolish tactic, I couldn’t help but be impressed. Perhaps I even admired her. It wasn’t too long ago, after all, that I felt the same way about my own charge. I would have stood against armies of Strigoi by myself to defend Ivan, but in the end, not even that was enough.

Finally reaching our destination, I took up my stance in the back of the room, across from Alberta. The captain of the school’s guardians was another person I had admired. I mirrored her stance and unreadable expression, knowing my place. Being reduced to nothing more than furniture was a good chunk of life for a guardian. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, though. Being ignored and overlooked meant you pick up on all sorts of things. I’ve always been curious about the world around me, so I had learned years ago how to take in every detail while standing as still as a statue.

The only move I made was when Rose shot up and yelled at the Headmistress in outrage. She was angry, but not threatening to I stayed in my spot, eyes trained on her. She was unruly, stubborn, and very reckless. Damn, I admired her spirit.

“I kept her safe!” she continued to yell. The dark curls of her glossy hair bounced against her back as she shook with anger. I wasn’t going to admit that she was pretty when mad, but... “I kept her safe when none of you could do it. I took her away to protect her. I did what I had to do. You certainly weren’t going to.”

I could feel the concern radiating from Alberta, but I actually had to work to keep a small smile from my face. Sure, the teenaged girl just insulted my own capabilities, but I didn’t take it personally. She had a point. Seeing the way she had thrown herself in front of Vasilisa to protect her from us back in Portland, I had no doubt that Rose truly believed she was protecting her. She needed guidance, though. Proper training. Her brash attitude made her jump to conclusions and solutions were way out of left field.

I ignored the voice in my head that told me how I wasn’t much different with Ivan before he’d died. Sure, I never took him out of school and fled the Moroi authorities, but I’d still concocted some pretty crazy schemes to keep him safe. He was my best friend after all. More than that. Ivan was everything and if there was a threat big enough, I didn’t entirely rule out the possibility that I’d have done exactly what Rose did. His death had sobered me, though. Tamed me from my more headstrong ways.

“You will be sent away as soon as possible.” It the Headmistress who had spoken. She was talking about Rose, of course. That was the exact opposite of what she needed. Didn’t Headmistress Kirova know who she was dealing with? The daughter of Janine Hathaway had too much potential to be wasted, especially with guardian numbers as abysmal as they were. The verbal sparring match that continued after that was intense. I followed every word between the two, and noted the look of sheer panic in the princess’s eyes. Those two couldn’t live without each other. If Vasilisa was my new charge, I had to keep her best interests a priority. This couldn’t stand. Surely Alberta would have an opinion? But she was remaining rooted the spot. The argument was getting more heated. Shit. I had to do something, to speak up or–

No, no, no, no. Furniture. You’re just a piece of furniture. I internally berated myself, biting my tongue. This doesn’t involve you. Stay out of it.

“They have a bond,” I said. And just like that, I dragged myself in the middle of something I had no business being in. Fuck it, I decided as all eyes turned on me. I kept my expression neutral as though my speaking was fueled by perfectly rational thoughts. I always hated being in the spotlight, so rather than deal with the whole room, I stared solely at Rose. There was something comforting about her, as though if anyone in the room could understand me, it was her. “Rose knows what Vasilisa is feeling. Don’t you Rose?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the headmistress look entirely startled by the claim. “No... that’s impossible. That hasn’t happened for centuries.”

Her doubt only encouraged me to continue as I felt a better handle over the situation. “It’s obvious,” I said. “I suspected it as soon as I started watching them.” My eyes were still locked on Rose’s. She was defiant and strong, and I couldn’t help but feel my own strength bolstered by her presence. Perhaps I was starting to come off as a creep, though, because she quickly looked away from me as Prince Victor gave this theory praise.

Turning my gaze onto Kirova, I continued. “The best guardians always had that bond. In the stories.” I added the last part, hoping that I didn’t somehow sound like a total loon. I technically wasn’t supposed to be talking at all, yet here I was, spouting of old myths straight from fairytales. But every word I said was the truth. I had seen it, and it was something that couldn’t be ignored.

“Stories that are centuries old! Surely you aren’t suggesting we let her stay at the Academy after everything she’s done?” Kirova countered.

I guess I am just a loon, after all. With nothing more to lose, I shrugged. “She might be wild and disrespectful but if she has potential–”

“Wild and disrespectful? Who the hell are you anyway? Outsourced help?” It was Rose who had interrupted and I wish I had a way to tell her to shut up. Couldn’t she see that I was the only one actually standing up for her? I suddenly thought of a few more adjectives to add to “wild and disrespectful”.

“Guardian Belikov is the princess’s guardian now. Her sanctioned guardian,” Kirova corrected. I know I wasn’t supposed to be on her side, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit triumphant.

That feeling fell immediately with Rose’s next words. “You got cheap foreign labor to protect Lissa?” Thank God I had mastered an unreadable expression, because if I could have thrown daggers at the novice, I would have. She knew nothing about me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt by the statement.

Kirova threw her hands up as though her point had just been made. “You see?” she said, directed at me. “Completely undisciplined! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world can’t make up for that. A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian.”

I couldn’t disagree, which brought me back to my original point. Pushing my irritation over the insult aside, I knew I had to stand up for the guardian Rose could be. “So teach her discipline. Classes just started. Put her back in and get her training again.” Honestly, wasn’t that the whole point of school? If being undisciplined got students kicked out, there wouldn’t be any left.

“Impossible. She’ll still be hopelessly behind her peers.”

“No I won’t,” Rose finally spoke up. If she was standing up for herself in a rational manner, then surely we could sway Kirova to let her stay at the Academy by Vasilisa’s side.

“Then give her extra training sessions,” I quickly added, feeling victory within our reach. And just like that, the negotiation started. It was the first real hope I felt in this battle. We continued for a while and I could feel Alberta’s eyes on me the whole time. Surely there would be words when we were back in the guardian’s headquarters.

“Who’s going to put in the extra time?” Kirova sounded tired of the conversation and I knew I had my foothold. She was ready to accept, she just needed the logistics of it all hammered out. Just as I was feeling triumphant again, the rug was once again pulled out. “You?”

I froze. Me? Train Janine Hathaway’s daughter one on one? The princess needed her and I could respect that, but Rose was quickly becoming a thorn in my side with her harsh comments. The two of us alone together in a sparring ring would surely end in blood being drawing. “Well, that’s not what I–” I trailed off, feeling like a total idiot. I didn’t think this through at all.

“Yes. That’s what I thought.” Shit. Just like that, Kirova won.

My eyes fell on the two girls, and when I looked between them I saw... Ivan and me. For the hundredth time that day, my mind came back to my old friend. I loved him more than I could put into words. I would have died for him, but instead, it was the other way around. One day off, one day away from him, and disaster of the worst degree had struck. I could imagine with painful clarity how Rose would feel if anything were to happen to Vasilisa while she was sent away. Of course, I would make sure to never again lose a Moroi on my watch. No more day-off’s for me. But if Rose had no choice...

“Yes. I can mentor Rose.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as I spoke. The moment the words left my mouth, though, I knew I didn’t regret them. I made a vow, and Vasilisa was now in my care. I couldn’t hurt her chances by taking away someone she was bonded with. And Rose... Rose deserved a fighting chance. “I’ll give her extra sessions along with her normal ones.”

We agreed that Rose should still be punished for her actions in addition to the extra training. With words of encouragement from Victor and Vasilisa herself, Kirova finally caved. Yet I’d hardly call it a victory. I’d just traded in practically all my free time to train a wild and disrespectful girl. She was my responsibility now and as I held her gaze again, I had a feeling I had my work cut out for me.

#ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ ✶ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴋᴏᴠ ᴄʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇs #dimitri belikov #vampire academy #rose hathaway #lissa dragomir #romitri #[ should I tag this as romitri? there's moments...

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i-turned-the-emperor-to-dust · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Fanfiction

It Started With a Kiss [AO3 Link] (Based loosely on the Korean Webdrama: Who Kissed Me?)

After drinking too much at a collége reunion, Marinette recalls kissing someone after the party but can't remember who. Enter one flirty, ridiculous cat who's hell-bent on helping her remember!

(Yaay, finally finished my first Fanfic in the Miraculous fandom! I’m so proud of my muse - finally cooperating for once 🥳)

— — —

The memory itself was vivid, even if the details themselves were a bit fuzzy. But Marinette knew this much: the lips had been soft against her own, the pace slow and languid, and they certainly knew how to use their tongue, how to apply just the right amount of pressure as their hand tangled in her hair, greedily pulling her closer.

A perfect kiss.

Well, nearly perfect. Marinette still couldn’t remember just who those lips belonged to.

“I swear, girl. Only you would experience the most memorable, mind-blowing make-out session of your life, and not even remember who the lucky guy is!”

As Alya gave her another comforting pat on the back, Marinette nodded morosely, emotionally spent from the memory alone. “It’s not fair. I’m cursed, Alya,” she despaired, arms dangling dramatically over the side of her chaise longue as she wallowed in self-misery.

“You got that right,” replied her helpful, supportive friend.

“Are you sure you don’t remember who I left with?” She asked again, desperately hoping her friend hadn’t suffered a mental-blackout like she had and would have the answer ready to unwrap like a present.

“Sorry, girl. Like I said, I left early with Nino. Trust me, if I knew you were going to drink too much and have a sexy tongue-soiree after a self-imposed drought, I would’ve stuck around to film it for posterity.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marinette groaned, cursing the unfairness of it all. Apparently, all her Ladybug luck was on reserve for when she actually needed it to defeat akumas.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” her best friend assured her, a determined glint entering her eye as the seasoned journalist took over. Nothing got her blood pumping like a mystery to solve. Climbing to her feet, Alya walked over to her rolled-up poster board and yanked down a nice clean page, then grabbed a marker and prepared to write. “Alright then, first we need to go over the list of suspects, starting with every single person that was at that party last night.”

“All of them? There were a lot of people, Alya.”

“Not that many, really. It was just our collége reunion, so let’s start with the people that actually showed. Let’s see,” she hummed, thinking back to last night. “Adrien was there with Kagami, as usual. And Luka, Juleka, and Rose all came together. Max and Alix were with Ondine and Kim, and Mylene and Ivan arrived a little later.”

“Nathaniel and Marc came too,” Marinette added, even though she thought this brainstorming session was kind of silly. She couldn’t imagine sharing a kiss with any of their old classmates. It was more likely she’d left the party alone and ran into some handsome stranger along the Seine.

“Right,” Alya nodded, adding the final names to the list. “Alright then, all done.”

“Really?” Marinette teased, glancing meaningfully at the poster-board. “You’re sure you’re not forgetting anyone? No one else comes to mind?” As Alya continued to stare at her blankly, Marinette giggled and added sweetly, “An adorable, newly engaged couple, perhaps?”

Realization dawned, and Alya chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, me and Nino were there too, though I think it’s safe to say the only lips we were rocking last night were each other’s.” But even so, she dutifully added both names to the list, as meticulous as ever. “Now that should be everyone.”

With the list more or less complete, Marinette took a step closer to examine their handiwork. She supposed she should be grateful that Chloe, Lila, and Sabrina weren’t on the list. At least she’d have one less nightmare to contend with; if it had been any of them, she’d rather cut out her tongue and live in denial forever.

“See? We already have a pretty great suspect pool,” Alya enthused, encouraged. “So, where should we start?”

“Well, you can definitely cross off Adrien,” Marinette said morosely, though saying the words didn’t hurt nearly as much as they used to. Ever since she’d accidentally discovered he was Chat Noir, she’d found herself even further relegated to the friend zone. But since she couldn’t tell her friend that, she said instead, “He left with Kagami shortly after you and Nino.”

“Damn, girl, you sure know how to ruin my fun,” she complained and made a big show of crossing out his name—a single line wouldn’t do, oh no, he got the royal treatment. There were now four dark strikes through his name, and beside it, a face with its tongue sticking out.

Thankfully, Kagami was saved from a similar treatment. Before her friend could put a mark across the other girl’s name, Alya’s phone rang, and glancing down at the caller, the journalism intern nearly jumped two feet in the air. “Oh shoot, I have to take this,” she said as she picked up the phone and wandered clear across the room, leaving Marinette to continue thinking in peace.

But thinking was hard.

Her head continued to pound thanks to the hangover she was still fighting, a fact she knew Tikki wouldn’t let her forget anytime soon. It certainly explained why she was having so much trouble remembering any more details about the kiss. Her mother’s homemade tonic may have helped, but there was still no better cure than staying sober.

If only she could remember something, their hair or eye color, their build and height—any hint would be useful—or better yet, if Tikki would stop being stubborn and just tell her already, then the mystery would be solved and she could finally stop driving herself crazy!

And judging by the way Alya was jumping up and down in the corner, she had a sneaking suspicion her best friend wouldn’t be any more help.

Unsurprisingly, Alya hung up her phone moments later and hurried back, her hands steepled in apology. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I know I said we’d hang until you had to leave for Kagami’s, but I just got dibs to assist on a super-exclusive interview, so tell you what—you go over our list and eliminate anyone you can, alright? And if you run into a dead-end, just start calling some of our classmates and see what they remember. I’ll call you later tonight and we’ll go over all the evidence. Hopefully by then, you’ll have gotten your answer or remembered something. How does that sound?”

“Good, I guess,” she replied, though she doubted she’d get very far.

“Great!” Grabbing her bag, the-tornado-known-as-Alya gave her a quick hug and a wave, and then disappeared through the hatch, leaving her alone with her silly suspect pool. By the time she spoke to Alya later, she had a feeling there wouldn’t be a name left on that board that didn’t have a line through it.

“You know, if you had been responsible last night instead of drinking to excess, you wouldn’t be having this problem,” Tikki chastised as she came out of hiding. It was a wonderful reminder of why she hadn’t wanted to be alone today. She loved her kwami dearly, but having to be reprimanded while nursing a hangover wasn’t exactly her definition of fun. “You’re just lucky there wasn’t an akuma last night, Marinette. Or anyone nearby to overhear you.”

“I know, Tikki. I’m sorry.”

And really, she was. It had been irresponsible and thoughtless of her. Not to mention, if Hawkmoth had attacked, Adrien would’ve been forced to fight him all alone since she would’ve been more than useless. At the time, though, she hadn’t been thinking about Hawkmoth, about Paris, about anything, really.

After watching her “friend” laugh and joke with Kagami all night, just once, she hadn’t wanted to be responsible. Just once, she hadn’t wanted to think at all. She might have resigned herself to never being with Adrien, but knowing he didn’t see her civilian self the same way he saw Ladybug, didn’t make the reality hurt any less.

So instead, she was left with the haunting memory of a kiss she couldn’t forget and a well-meaning kwami who was too noble to give her an easy way out of her misery.

Resigned, she asked: “You’re still not going to tell me who I kissed, are you, Tikki?”

“Sorry, but no,” Tikki replied as she took another bite of her cookie, and Marinette had the distinct impression she was being judged.

Despondent, she sagged against her seat, desperately wishing Alya were still here. At the very least, she could use a distraction.

. . .And when she heard a familiar thump come from somewhere above, a distraction was exactly what she got.

— — —

Chat paced across Marinette’s balcony, silently trying to pump himself up.

It was all good, it was fine. THEY were fine. It was just a kiss, nothing to get nervous and bent out of shape about. She wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d be happy, thrilled even! And when she hugged him, which she totally would, he’d convince her they were meant to be together, that this was destiny, and there was no way he was going to let Hawkmoth destroy what they had.

He had his speech memorized. His arsenal locked and loaded; hopefully, the flowers wouldn’t be overkill. And Plagg had been adequately threatened to keep quiet.

Now all he had to do was make himself move.

Staring at the trapdoor, Chat took one tiny step forward, then another, knowing his future was just within reach…

And then collapsed, his hands in his hair, the panic rising.

What if she hated him now? What if she insisted he took advantage of her and never wanted to see him again? What if she decided to take their hypothetical hamster, the very one they’d discussed in length just last week, and raise it on her own? What then?

Luckily, he didn’t have to fret for long. Without warning, Marinette’s skylight was flung open, and her beautiful face peeked through. With cat-like reflexes, Chat quickly skidded away, surprised to see her there so suddenly.

“Chat?” she asked, a tinge of exasperation in her voice, though to him, it might as well have been music. “I thought I heard you up here. Why didn’t you come in the front door?”

Chat grimaced. He couldn’t exactly explain that it was safer this way, that despite his promise, Plagg would definitely use this opportunity to torment him. So he simply shrugged and tried not to look too guilty as he slowly crawled closer. “Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you. Surprise,” he finished lamely as he greeted her with a tiny wave. Noticing he was waving the same hand holding her flowers, he blushed in embarrassment as petals rained across her balcony. He quickly hid them behind his back.

A forced, awkward smile settled across his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she rolled her eyes fondly, teasing. “Come inside, you silly cat. Unless you’ve got more grooming to do for a photo shoot." With a chuckle, she disappeared back inside her room. Encouraged by the fact that she hadn’t refused to see him, that she seemed happy, even, Chat followed after. A couple quick jumps later, he found himself standing in the middle of Marinette’s room.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he told her with a grin, even though he’d just been here as Adrien a few days ago, and it hadn’t changed one bit.

Marinette chuckled. “Thanks, it took a lot of work.”

Well, that cinched it. He loved her. Only Marinette would go along with his lame jokes and silly puns and not even bat an eye.

He had meant it, though—he loved her room. It was cozy and comfortable, warm, and lived-in. The complete opposite of his own. Despite being eighteen now, it hadn’t changed that much from when they were young. The walls were still her favorite color, in varying shades of pink, and she had all the same trinkets and furniture that had hardly aged a day. The only thing that had changed were the pictures she used to have of him all over her walls. At some point, they’d been replaced with photographs of all their friends and inspiring fashion pieces she’d come across in magazines.

He wasn’t sure when that had changed or even why, but it was one of the reasons he was so nervous. He knew she had liked him once, and if their conversation last night could be believed, she still did. But today, in broad daylight, without the help of wine, would she still feel the same?

“So, what brings you by?” Marinette asked curiously as Chat lovingly placed her flowers on her desk. “I thought we were going to meet at Kagami’s in a couple hours.”

Chat shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I had some time to kill, and thought I’d spend it visiting my favorite purrincess.”

“Oh? And since she wasn’t home, you came to see me?” She put a hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “My, my. I’m flattered, monsieur super-hero.”

Seeing an opening, he took her outstretched hand and placed a quick kiss there, his eyes searing into hers, absolutely relishing in the way she blushed. “Not as flattered as I am,” he told her, the words “my Lady” on the tip of his tongue but held back by sheer will alone.

Now wasn’t the time.

“So, did you have fun?” he asked, reluctantly releasing her hand. “At the party, I mean.”

He watched her closely for her reaction, looking for the slightest sign she was unhappy or upset or disappointed somehow. She hadn’t brought it up herself—maybe she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, or worse, maybe she didn’t like it. Was she preparing to let him down gently AGAIN?

Marinette, unaware of his catastrophizing, shrugged as she walked towards her unrolled poster-board, fingering the corner of it thoughtfully. “It was alright, I guess,” she replied, flushed, as she glanced at him with a smile. “I’m a little iffy on some details, though.”

Chat raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?” he asked, trying his best not to sound too curious, too invested. Though it was hard.

“I guess I drank a little more than I should have,” Marinette admitted as she bit her lip in shame, irrevocably drawing his gaze. Because those were the same lips he’d finally gotten a taste of late last night. Swallowing at the memory, Chat flushed as he forced himself to look away, to act nonchalant, like he didn’t want to resume right where they’d left off.

To distract himself, his eyes followed hers. For whatever reason, he found himself staring at all the names of their old classmates written on a giant poster board. Well, not all of them, he realized. It was only the ones that had come to their reunion party last night. “Are those the details you’re iffy about?” he asked, stepping up next to her to get a better view. “You’re not class president anymore, you know. You don’t need to take roll call, Marinette.”

She swatted him playfully across the arm. “I know that. It’s just a small project I’m working on.”

“Ooh, what kind of project?”

Again she blushed, and Chat realized there was clearly something he was missing here. “Well, aren’t you a curious kitty,” she cooed, scratching him underneath his chin as he leaned into her touch. It was such a Ladybug thing to do, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection sooner. Of course, the line between Marinette and Ladybug had been blurring for a while now. Even before he learned the truth, he’d dreamt about them being the same person multiple times. And with moments like this, it wasn’t surprising why.

“Actually,” she continued haltingly, “about last night. Something did happen, but it’s all a bit of a blur. See, I—I kissed someone, but I can’t remember who it was…”

At first, her words didn’t register. Then, slowly, Chat’s eyes began to widen ever-so-slightly, understanding firing all eight cylinders.

“Wait, you mean, you forgot?” He stuttered, and realizing what he’d almost admitted, cleared his throat and continued awkwardly, “I—I mean, that’s too bad, really bad. Seems like the kind of thing you’d want to remember.”

“I know, right? I knew I shouldn’t have taken that last shot! Kim and Alix can be very persuasive.”

“So, um, what all do you remember then?”

Marinette put a finger to her chin and began to tap-tap-tap, and he thought that was just the cutest thing ever. Everything about her was cute! “Not much, to be honest. Only that the kiss was amazing.”

Chat’s cheeks went pink, and he just knew his entire face must be blazing. Not for the first time, he was glad he was still wearing his mask. “R-really? You really thought so?”

Marinette nodded as she absently tapped the poster. “Do you think it could’ve been Luka?” She asked, turning to look at him with an open and vulnerable expression. “We talked a lot last night… maybe he wanted to get back together?”

At the very thought, Chat clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, and if he were really a feline, he would have hissed.

“No, it definitely wasn’t Luka,” he muttered, much sharper than intended, and when he realized Marinette was staring at him strangely, he hastened to add, “I mean, I-I saw him last night, walking with Rose and Juleka—when I was out on patrol! I’m not sure what happened with that amazing kiss,” he continued with a wink, “but I have a feeling whoever the guy was, he wouldn’t just kiss and leave. At the very least, he would’ve walked you home or called.” A thought occurred to him then, and he asked nervously, “He, um, didn’t call. Did he?”

“No, he didn’t. I guess you’re right,” Marinette confirmed, sounding almost disappointed as she picked up a marker and crossed Luka’s name off the list. Despite that, Chat couldn’t help but feel relieved as his biggest rival was summarily removed.

One down, he thought cheerfully. Only a dozen more to go!

But first, it was time to get out of this cat-suit. He could practically hear Plagg grumbling in his ear, demanding cheese and freedom. And despite the risks of releasing his unlucky kwami, he knew it was necessary. If he was going to get his heart trampled on, he was determined to do it as Adrien; Chat had enough rejection to last a lifetime.

Unfortunately, he didn’t bring any cheese. Smelling like camembert when he planned to confess to the girl he loved was the last thing he’d wanted. So he turned to his partner, prepared to beg for a small slice as tribute—“It’s on the workbench,” Marinette told him, having read his mind, and Chat followed her gaze to see she already had a plate waiting for him, piled high with a variety of gooey options.

Chat shook his head in awe.

He shouldn’t be so surprised—that’s how in sync they were. It was one of the many reasons they belonged together. And yet she never failed to take his breath away.

The urge to confess had never been so strong, so not wanting to waste another second, he commanded, “Plagg, claws in!” Like always, his entire body was enveloped in warm green light, and once it was done, he opened his eyes to see Marinette staring at him with a cute, gob-smacked expression on her face. Even a year later, she still looked at him like she was seeing it for the first time. Adorable.

He chuckled at the sight, but realizing potential disaster awaited, turned his full attention to his greedy little kwami. “Alright, Plagg, remember our deal,” he whispered, green eyes narrowed in warning. “Not a word, or you’ll be living off cottage cheese for a month.”

With twinkling, giddy eyes, his kwami scoffed. “Oh, please. Like I’d want to ruin the fun of wherever this conversation is going. Please, by all means, dig yourself in even deeper. It’ll be a joy!” And just like that, he was off, his mouth already buried in a slice of brie.

“What did Plagg mean by that?” Marinette asked, sidling up next to him.

“Nonsense, as usual,” he muttered and turned his attention back to the “suspect pool”, quietly wondering who he should eliminate next. Nathaniel used to have a crush on her, maybe he should start with him? But then he noticed his own name had already been crossed off, and there was even an unflattering drawing right next to it. “Hey, what’s this?” He complained, putting his hands on his hips, intentionally keeping his voice light. “I was eliminated before I even had a chance to compete?”

“Well, obviously, I knew it wasn’t you,” she teased, tapping him in the chest with the tip of her marker. “We’re friends, right? Besides, you already have Kagami.”

Wrong. He hadn’t been with Kagami in almost a year, ever since he started realizing he had feelings for his good friend Marinette. Of course, she’d been with Luka at the time, so he’d been forced to wait and watch, and yet, even when they finally had broken up, the perfect opportunity just never seemed to present itself.

Until last night.

“I’m not with Kagami,” he told her softly, though considering how often they still hung out, it wasn’t surprising she’d think that way. “We’re just friends, Marinette. We’ve been that way for a while now.”

The friend he absolutely didn’t want as a friend, gasped, staring up at him in disbelief. “What? I’m so sorry to hear that, Adrien. I had no idea.”

He shrugged. “It was so long ago and it was mutual. We agreed to split as soon as I realized I was in love with someone else…”

Marinette’s beautiful blue eyes widened at that revelation, and the prettiest blush colored her cheeks as she turned her attention back to the board. Her hands shook the slightest bit as she crossed Kagami’s name off the list.

“Well, you two still left together,” she said softly. “So I guess I can rule her out.”

Adrien laughed as he took the marker from her hand. “Wow, you can’t even remember the gender? You were drunk.” And though he felt the tiniest bit guilty about that, she hadn’t seemed drunk. They’d held an entire conversation before the kissing had even begun. Still, knowing that all of that build-up and ground-work had been destroyed was depressing.

“So, what do you remember? Aside from it being the best kiss in the history of kisses,” he added slyly, fighting back a grin.“You must remember something. Like, what led up to it? What color was his hair? His eyes? Do you even remember where you were at?”

“I think I remember stairs—in Montmartre,” she replied, and watched as Adrien began crossing names off the list. First, he removed Nathaniel, Alix, Kim, and Max. And after that, drew a line through Ivan and Mylene, easily eliminating half of her suspects as if it were nothing.

When she raised an eyebrow in question, Adrien shrugged, though his eyes were full of mirth. “They all hate stairs,” he said by way of explanation, and with an encouraging smile, asked, “Anything else you remember?”

Marinette dutifully looked away as she closed her eyes, searching for any details floating just out of reach. Though they both knew the answer, knew where all of this was headed.

Still, he waited patiently, allowing her to figure it out for herself. And sure enough, when her pretty bluebell eyes flew open and her lips parted in surprise, he knew she knew. “Green eyes. Blond hair,” she whispered as Adrien continued down the list, eliminating the rest of their classmates one by one, everyone who didn’t match that description. And when no one was left, he circled his own name, again and again, until it stood out like a shining star against that pure white background.

“Adrien?” she breathed, finally looking up at him.

“Surprise,” he said again, laughing lightly as he fearlessly met her gaze. But inside, he was shaking. Once more, he felt like a love-sick cat standing on a rooftop, bracing for rejection. “I came back, you know,” he told her, feeling strangely shy. “I forgot my bag and saw you sitting outside on the stairs getting some air, and we got to talking, really talking… I—I honestly can’t believe you forgot all of it.”

“Sorry,” Marinette mumbled, just as softly. “There’s a reason I don’t drink very often.”

Adrien bit back a smile, knowing the real reason behind her sobriety. After all, the savior of Paris couldn’t exactly fight Hawkmoth while intoxicated, could she?

“Then what made you drink last night?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer, having heard them from her very lips on those stairs. Yet the selfish part of him, the part that wanted her to remember what they’d shared, needed to hear those words again. “Surely your classes at IFA couldn’t be that stressful. Not already.”

Marinette released a quiet little sigh as she nervously fingered the poster-board. “Well, why did you kiss me then?” she shot back, and Adrien laughed, not expecting her to turn this back on him so quickly. But unlike his Lady, he wasn’t afraid to be upfront and honest.

“Because I wanted to. I’ve been in love with you for a very long time now, Marinette.”

“Y-You have?!” Marinette stuttered and then stumbled, nearly tearing down her poster-board in the process—which was quite the feat, considering she’d been standing still. But as always, Adrien was there to catch her before she could fall too far, his arms around her shoulders, holding her steady.

Reluctantly, he let her go. “I have.”

“But, but I had no idea! Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why did you let everyone think you were still dating Kagami?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t even know that’s what everyone thought!” Adrien insisted, shaking his head. “I was just being friendly, and since she’s one of the few people my dad actually lets me hang out with, I had no reason not to. Besides, the only reason I ever dated her in the first place was because I couldn’t have you—you didn’t like me that way!”

“I’ve always liked you that way!”

“Well, sure, I know that now,” he complained.

“Then, so, we do like each other. Both of us,” Marinette confirmed, blushing like mad now. “And last night, on the steps, we confessed to each other . . . and I don’t remember any of it!” It took all of five seconds for Marinette to go from flustered and shy to absolutely distraught as she turned away, hands tangled in her hair.

Adrien simply took another step closer. “That’s nothing new for me,” he reminded her, having experienced an unfair amount of memory issues in the past. “But if it bothers you that much, I can always remind you what happened if you want.”

Marinette stopped pantomiming long enough to glance over at him. “Really? Y-you’d do that?”

“Of course,” he told her with a happy little laugh.

“O-okay then,” she said, staring at him, expectant and trusting.

And Adrien was determined not to disappoint. He’d give her a story she’d never forget.

“So there we were,” he began, setting the scene as he leaned towards her, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “All alone on the stairs on a beautiful night. There was romantic music drifting in from the venue, and the light from the street lamps bathed us both in a warm, soft glow—so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when you confessed your undying love for me right there on the spot.”

“I WHAT?!”

Adrien nodded, fighting back a grin. “That’s right. Apparently, you ‘couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself anymore’—those were your exact words, by the way. And you started insisting we were destined to be together, that fate and Hawkmoth, and even ‘dumb, purple butterflies’—again, your words—could never tear our love apart.”

Unsurprisingly, Marinette’s face had gone from a pale, sickly white to a bright fuchsia, so red, it was entirely possible her blood-vessels may have imploded, but Adrien continued on innocently, enjoying being able to unbalance his Lady for once. “And that’s when you kissed me. And then I kissed you, and honestly, we did a lot of kissing last night, Marinette, it’s kind of hard to keep track—but it really was as epic as you remember.”

At some point during his retelling, the love of his life had collapsed soundlessly to the floor, her legs splayed out beneath her as she stared at the rug in utter humiliation and self-reproach. And Adrien felt a little bad. But only a little.

He hadn’t exaggerated too much.

Hoping to cheer her up, he knelt down, slowly placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, like he was approaching a startled rabbit that was ready to bolt. “If it makes you feel any better, I did bring you flowers,” he reminded her, gesturing to the abandoned bouquet on her desk. “I would have given them to you last night after I brought you home, but it was too late and all the stores were closed.”

Finally, Marinette lifted her head, her cheeks slowly resuming their color as she glanced at her gift from across the room. “Flowers? Those were for me?”

“Of course,” he teased. “I don’t give flowers to just anyone, Princess.”

“But—Kagami? I thought they were for her birthday.”

Adrien’s gaze softened. “I already gave Kagami her gift last night. I bought those for you, Marinette. I couldn’t exactly come here empty-handed, could I? Not after giving you a kiss to end all kisses,” he reminded her with a wink. “Of course, if you don’t want them…”

“I DO! I want them!” Marinette insisted loudly, too loudly apparently, because her eyes instantly widened and she threw a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “I-I mean,” she floundered as she lowered her hands and gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Adrien. They’re beautiful.”

And if he wasn’t kneeling, it would’ve been his turn to collapse.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied sincerely, and Marinette practically melted right there on the floor. Adrien laughed, pleased and encouraged by how open and unguarded she was being. If she was angry or regretted anything, he had no doubt she would’ve kicked him out long before now—his lady was nothing if not decisive.

And apparently delusional, because the next words out of her mouth were: “Thanks, but I’m not, not really,” and at her shy expression, Adrien scoffed so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Of course you are,” he insisted, just as loudly and as passionately. “You��re beautiful, Marinette. You’re brilliant and brave and talented and kind and just-just amazing. It’s no wonder I fell in love with you twice,” he told her, and if he thought her face couldn’t get any redder at that point, he’d be wrong. “I’m only sorry I never saw it sooner,” he continued, needing to get the words out. “That I was stupid and blind, and mistook what I felt for you as friendship when it was obviously something more.”

Marinette stared at him in wonder. “How can you say all of that so easily?” she asked him, shaking her head in disbelief. “I-I’ve been trying to tell you that for four years now, and it took getting drunk and then blacking out before I could even get the words out!”

“Well, what’s stopping you now?” He asked, giving her an encouraging smile as he threw out his arms, opening them wide in invitation. “I’m here. I’m listening. Go on and woo me, Bugaboo.”

Marinette stared at him, completely slack-jawed. And it took waaay too long for Adrien to realize what he’d just let slip, what he’d unknowingly confessed. And just like that, he found himself at a crossroads.

“B-Bugaboo?” She repeated uncertainly.

He could deny it, of course. Could laugh it off and say she reminded him of his lady. But if he was honest with himself, Adrien was tired of the lies, tired of pretending he didn’t know. Now that everything was out in the open, it was time to be honest about everything. “Would you prefer Wonderbug, My Lady?” He asked, unable to hide his nervousness, “Or Mrs. Agreste? That’s on the table too, if you want it.”

A dreamy look entered her eyes at his suggestion which made him sit up and take notice. But just as quickly Marinette began shaking her head, as though mentally berating herself.

“But HOW did you—WHEN?”

“So, that’s a funny story, actually,” he continued, red-faced now, and absolutely dreading this conversation. Why couldn’t they just go straight back to kissing? “Last night, you may have, kind of, sort of, admitted you were Ladybug to me—not that it mattered,” he hastened to add, “I’ve known for months now!”

“YOU’VE WHAT?”

“I mean, I saw you—months ago, by accident. Not on purpose! I wasn’t following you or anything, I swear!”

Thankfully, as he rambled like an idiot, Tikki finally decided to make her presence known. Now that Marinette knew the secret was out, she had no reason to stay hidden. So, like an angry little hornet, she buzzed onto the scene, antennas twitching irritably. “That’s right, you did,” she chastised as Marinette’s look of panic increased ten-fold. “Now do you see why I was so upset with you, Marinette? That was very irresponsible: Anyone could have overheard you! You are NEVER allowed to drink alcohol again!”

“Aw, come on now, Sugar Cube,” said Plagg, flying lazily beside her. “Leave the kid alone. Humans always do stupid things when they drink. You should’ve set a better example.”

Despite Tikki turning that terrifying displeasure on her partner, Plagg didn’t even flinch. “I certainly do not drink, nor to excess,” she shot back, leveling him with a glare. “If anyone’s been a terrible influence, it’s you and that cheese addiction of yours! Do you know how difficult it’s been for her to sneak enough cheese out of the bakery to sustain your insatiable appetite?”

“No more than your macaroon addiction, I’d wager!”

“I don’t have an addiction!”

As the two kwami’s verbally sparred, Marinette stared at Adrien who stared right back, somehow their own conversation forgotten in the unexpectedness of what they were witnessing. “S-sorry,” Adrien replied at last, nodding his head towards Plagg. “He can be a bit of a glutton.”

“It’s really not that much cheese,” she hastened to assure him as Plagg laughed derisively at Tikki’s latest rant. For some reason, they were now talking about the extinction of the dinosaurs. As one, the two found themselves naturally gravitating away from the arguing kwami’s, and both took a seat on her lounge chair, looking uncomfortable as they watched.

“I’ve never seen them fight before,” Marinette whispered, her own worries and fears suddenly seeming small while watching two ancient, tiny gods verbally duking it out.

“I know, right? Plagg doesn’t usually get this passionate about anything other than camembert. I didn’t even realize he was capable.”

Marinette sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to get any helpful guidance from Tikki anytime soon. “So, what do we do now?” She asked, turning so she was facing him directly, though her expression was worried. “I’m the guardian now, Adrien. Doesn’t that bother you? What if we get together and I forget all about you after passing on the miraculous?”

Adrien laughed, though it was filled less with amusement and more with resignation. “You mean like how you forgot everything last night?” He teased, knocking his shoulder playfully against hers. “I’ve got news for you, princess, as long as Hawkmoth is around, nothing between us is ever going to be easy. But you’re worth it. WE’RE worth it. And if you do forget me,” he continued warmly, “well then, I’ll get to enjoy making you fall in love with me all over again. I can be very persuasive, you know.”

The way her cheeks flushed at his comment seemed to suggest she agreed whole-heartedly. But Adrien wasn’t done. As if afraid the words would fester and rot, he knew they had to be said.

“I still love you, Marinette. The feelings I had for you back when we were in collége, when I only knew you as Ladybug—they never went away. There will never be anyone for me but you. You’re not just my partner, you’re my best friend and the only person who knows me so completely, inside and out.” Praying she could feel his sincerity, he took her hand in his. “So please don’t tell me last night was a mistake.”

Marinette stared down at their linked hands and to his relief didn’t pull away. Instead, she met his gaze without fear or hesitation and gently squeezed his hand in return. “I know I wasn’t in my right mind last night but I meant every word I said. All of it,” she told him, her lip quivering as a bright and beautiful smile broke free. “I love you too, Adrien. Even after learning you were Chat Noir, my feelings for you only grew. I love you, my chaton. I always have.”

It may not have been very manly to tear up, but he had waited YEARS to hear those words. Feeling overwhelmed, relieved, and loved at last, Adrien wiped his eyes with the back of his arm. “My lady…”

“Oh, for crying out loud, would you two just KISS already?” Plagg complained, apparently taking a break from tormenting Tikki just to torment them.

Adrien, who had been staring lovingly at Marinette, shrugged helplessly. “Permission to show you exactly what you forgot?” he asked as he leaned closer, lips quirked, and only a breath away.

“I am a bit fuzzy on the details.”

“I can definitely fix that.”

Carefully placing an arm around her waist, Adrien pulled Marinette even closer, drawing her in for a heart-stirring kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet and every bit as amazing as promised. He kissed her slowly, reverently, like they had all the time in the world because this time he was determined to make sure she didn’t forget a single thing.

Though neither of them knew what the future might bring, one thing they knew for certain: Separate, they were already pretty amazing. Together, they would be miraculous.

THE END

#miracuous ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #identity reveal #drunken kisses #adrien x marinette #one-shot #piece of fluff

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

What We Have (3)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Summary: Reader is Adonis’ adopted sister, she and Viktor falls for one another.

Word Count: 2,505

********

You'd been visiting your brother every day while he was in the hospital. You were standing beside Rocky when he yelled at him. That made you even more nervous about him finding out about the kiss and now the toe curling, mind blowing sex.

When he was discharged, he and Bianca decided to stay with you and your mom since he needed a little help and she was getting far along into the pregnancy.

As the weeks went by and he was getting better. The tension started to ease around the house just a bit. You were in the kitchen talking to your mother when he stormed in.

"Aye, what's this?!" He tossed his phone in front of you.

You stared down at the screen and up at him.

"Shit, umm, I..." You stuttered and looked at your mother.

"This ain't cool. This man tried to take my life!"

"That was before the fight," you said as if that were any better.

"This ain't cool."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"It's too late for all that! But you wouldn't understand, because it wasn't your father that was killed!" He yelled and snatched the phone up.

"Hey! Woah, alright now!" Your mother interjected.

"Really, Adonis? You gonna throw the little adopted baby story in my face?" Your eyes filled with tears.

"I will not have that, sit down," your mom directed him.

"Nah, I'm good," he said before trying to leave the room.

"I said sit down and I will not be saying it again." She waited for him to have a seat.

Adonis may have been a six foot tall heavyweight boxing champion, but when Mary Anne Creed went into mama bear mode, everyone listened. Including him.

"Now, I will not have my children going at one another like this. We will sit here and we will work it out. Adonis, don't you ever, and I do mean ever, again throw her adoption in her face. She is just as much mine and Apollo’s daughter as you are my son." She silently reminded him that she’d actually adopted him.

"Look, I ain't mean it like that, aight?" He said to you.

"I know what I've done is wrong, but it's done. At this point, all I can do is —" you stopped mid sentence and jumped from your seat.

You raced to the trash can and threw up.

"Yo, you good?!" He ran over to you. "I didn't mean to upset you so much. I just got mad and I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm good, I'm cool," you said as you wiped your mouth with the napkin your mother handed you.

"Here, sip this, it should settle your stomach," she handed you a glass of salt water.

You took one small sip and then another. Your family stood by and watched as you gulped down the entire glass.

"Oh my goodness, I really needed that. Thanks, mommy." You set the glass on the counter top.

"Ugh, okay, I'm out." Adonis said and left.

Your mother looked at you oddly.

"Are you pregnant?" She inquired.

"What? No!" You said.

"Haven't heard you complaining about cramps lately."

"Well, that's because my period isn't due for another... like..." You counted your fingers.

Once you realized that your math wasn't adding up you pulled out your phone and looked through your calendar.

"Shit!" You ran away to your room, but you knew you'd only bought the one test that day.

"What's going on?" Bianca walked in and asked.

"I did something so stupid. So very very stupid," you covered your face.

"Again?"

"Hey!"

"I am far too pregnant to pretend... Oh," she grabbed her stomach.

"What's wrong? Are you —" you looked at the growing wet spot on her pants. "Mommaaa!" You yelled.

You stared at the results in your hands.

"Are you sure?" You questioned the nurse. "I can pee again just to make sure."

"We've tested you twice Ms. Creed, the results are accurate," she assured.

While your brother was a few doors down bringing his baby girl into the world, you were finding out that you weren't too far behind with your own.

What were you gonna do with a baby? A baby by Viktor Drago of all the people in the world. You thanked the nurse, folded the papers up as small as possible and headed back down the hall.

"Uncle Rocky!" You threw your arms around his shoulders.

"Hey, where you been?" He asked.

"Oh, um, I just needed to take a walk. All the excitement was getting to me." You straight up lied to his face.

"Everything okay?" Your mother asked. She knew where you'd gone.

"Yes, all good," you lied to her too.

The doctor walked out to give you all an update and invite you inside of the room. Baby Amara had been delivered safely.

You sighed with relief. Saved just in time before she could question you.

You saw Viktor challenging Adonis on TV again. Saying if he didn't agree to a rematch then he wasn't a real champion. That clip originally aired a week ago. You rubbed your stomach. Three months had passed and you were finally getting a little pooch. Pretty soon, you wouldn't be able to hide this.

You smiled down at your niece. She was such a happy baby. You talked to her even knowing that she couldn't hear you. You held her close, so that she'd learn the vibrations of your voice. She always smiled back.

"That's a good look on you," Adonis said from behind you.

You laid the baby on her play mat and waved him over to sit. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

"You're gonna fight him again aren't you?" You sighed.

"Yeah, I talked to B and unc is gonna train me this time." He confirmed.

"I have to tell you something," you felt the tears stinging your eyes. You weren't exactly sure how he'd react, but judging by the last time, you knew it wouldn't be good.

"What's up?"

You unzipped the light jacket you were wearing and stood up. His face dropped.

"Tell me it's not his," he rubbed his hands over his face.

"It is and I'm keeping my baby," you let him know before he could ask.

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch!" He punched the wall.

"Donnie—"

"No! I don't want to hear that shit. He used you to get under my skin and laugh in my face and you fell right into his trap!"

"What if everything isn't about you, Adonis? Have you ever thought about that? What we had was real, even if it was just for a moment."

"You really think he gives a damn about you?" He yelled.

The tears you'd been holding dropped. You didn't know if your feelings were actually hurt or if it was hormones, but his words hit hard. Of course you'd thought about that, but it's not something you wanted to believe.

You couldn't argue with him. You were far more upset than you needed to be. You kissed your niece and turned to leave.

"Don't think I'ma go easy on him either. Not after what he did to me." He huffed.

You kept going as he spoke to your back. You should've said something. Anything. Because you didn't know when the next time would be when you spoke to your brother.

You walked into the arena and went straight to your seat. You hadn't spoken to Adonis since you left his apartment that day. It had been almost two months.

"Did you go wish your brother luck?" Your mother asked.

"No, I didn't want to upset him and throw him off his game." You said.

"Mm, and how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, nervous, but okay." You tugged at the hem of the oversized hoodie dress you'd worn. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your secret. Pretty soon you'd have to go ghost so nobody would ask you questions.

The lights dimmed and Viktor walked out. He had more than just Ivan by his side this time around. You snorted. They were riding his coattails, every single one of them.

He looked over at you briefly and then turned his attention to the other side of the ring. That's when you saw her. Ludmilla, his mother, sitting proudly on the sidelines. You willed yourself not to go over there and kick her square in the chest.

The lights dimmed again pulling you from your thoughts. Bianca started singing and Adonis and his crew walked out behind her. You cheered them on.

She walked past the ring and stood next to you and your mother. She gave your growing belly a discreet little rub as you watched Adonis climb in.

You sat down and took a deep breath when they touched gloves. This was it. The moment you'd been dreading since you woke up this morning. You knew one of them would come out of this hurt. It was inevitable.

When the fight started Viktor went in heavy. You jumped back to your feet with the rest of the crowd. Adonis took some hits and avoided some. Your heart skipped a beat with every jab.

Adonis hits him with a quick combo and you cheered him on.

"That's it, D! Stay focused!" You yelled.

The two kept going after one another round after round. Split eyes, bloody noses. It seemed to be never ending.

Once round 4 was closing, you saw Viktor hold on to him and punch him twice in the ribs.

"What the fuck?!" You tried to get over to the other side, but security held on to you.

"How did you not see that?!" You yelled at the ref. "What the fuck is wrong with you Viktor?!"

He turned his back to you. You pushed the guard off of you and turned back to your family. The fight needed to be stopped, but you knew once again that Adonis wouldn't allow it.

You saw Viktor look over at Ludmilla just before the bell. The two men went in swinging once again. You could see Viktor going for Adonis' ribs again. He hit him and your brother dropped again.

"Get up, Adonis! You got this, brother, get up!!" You screamed.

You sighed with relief once he was back on his feet. He went at Viktor like a mad man. He dropped him, but Viktor got back up. He dropped him a second time and then you saw it. She was leaving.

Once again, his mother was walking out on him. He looked over while he was still down and saw the empty seats while he was pulling himself up. He went back in for more.

Adonis wasn't backing off. Hit after hit until he backed him into a corner. Viktor wouldn't stop. He was refusing to give up. Your heart dropped. Before you knew it, you were screaming at Ivan.

"Stop this, Ivan! He's gonna kill him, please!" You pleaded.

He finally threw in the towel. You were sad for Viktor, but you were happy for your brother. You, your mother and Bianca ran to Adonis to be at his side. You could see Viktor breaking down in the corner.

For the first time since you'd known them Ivan hugged his son. The Dragos left the ring, but you stayed put and kept your emotions in check as best you could.

"Aye, go check on your boy." Adonis said to you.

"No, Donnie, that'll look bad for you, I'll do it later," you declined.

"He needs you," his voice softened, "all of you."

You ran away to the locker rooms. You pushed past all of the reporters waiting for him to come out and banged on the door. Ivan pulled it open and stood in front of you as if he wasn't going to let you pass. The reporters shouted out questions as the two of you stood in a stare down.

Fed up, you squeezed past him. Now was not the time for him to act like a fool. You found Viktor sitting in a corner with his head hanging low. You stood beside him.

"Get out, you shouldn't be here," he said.

You could hear his soft sobs. You reached out to touch him, but pulled your hand back.

"You put up a good fight, Viktor... Even though you held on to him to crack his ribs again." You said to him. You wouldn't be you had you not mentioned it.

"I know," he exhaled.

You wanted to scream at him, but you couldn't kick him while he was down. So you lifted his chin up, so he'd look at you. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip was split and you could see traces of dried blood on his nose.

He gently pushed your hand away.

"She left me again," his voice was low. "She was ashamed of me and I would rather have died than fail."

"Oh, Viktor, baby..."

"You should go. Leave me like she did, because I don't deserve you."

"Sweetheart, I'll never leave you," you grabbed his hands and pressed them to your growing bump. "We will never leave you."

It took him a moment to understand what you were saying, but his eyes glittered with tears again once the realization set in.

"You're..." He started.

"Mmm hmm," you nodded.

"And we made this?"

"We did."

He placed kisses all over your belly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He asked.

"It was hard considering everything that was going on. I should have, but I didn't really know how." You admitted.

He couldn't take his hands off of you. He was already in love.

"Is it boy or girl?"

"I don't know yet. I figured we could find out what they are together."

"They?" He looked at you in shock.

You were so excited when you found out you were having twins, but you weren't exactly sure how he'd react to the news. First of you being pregnant and then the fact that you were having twins.

He stood and hugged you tight. He was happy. He silently promised to always be there for you and his kids.

Ivan cleared his throat. You'd forgotten that he was even in the room. Viktor stood in front of you like a shield as his father made his way over to you.

The older man stopped in his tracks when he realized what his son was doing. He understood why his first instinct would be to protect you, but he loved his son, so he'd never hurt you.

"Pozdravlyayu, congratulations" he hugged him and then gave you a nod.

"Wait, Ivan, was that a smile??" You asked.

He couldn't keep the grin off of his face. He was genuinely happy for his son. He'd have a family. Something that he always wanted. And after seeing his ex wife walk away from them again, he thinks it's time for him to move on as well.

********

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#Viktor Drago #viktor drago x reader #creed 2 #viktor x reader #Smut #Lotusss Writes

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