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snowbellewells · 2 years

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Self Promo Sunday: “Under the Weather”

I guess I should apologize for being self-indulgent, because many of you may have read this little two shot before. It has been a while since I’ve gone back and looked at it though, and this morning I felt like looking it up again. It was one of my first CS/OuaT fics to gain some definite love and popularity back in the hiatus between 3a and 3b. Maybe some of my newer readers who missed it will enjoy, and maybe someone else will have fun looking back (I hope). Plus, it now has perfect, amazing, lovely cover art, courtesy of the wonderful @searchingwardrobes !!!

Summary: Just a little post-Neverland fic, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was originally inspired (some years ago) by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook would manage to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy - even all these years later and after how much closer our pirate and princess became...

"Under the Weather"

(posting both parts here for ease of reading)

By: @snowbellewells

Also available on ff.net or AO3

If anyone had asked her, Emma Swan couldn't have explained why she felt the sudden prickling of concern in the back of her mind, nor the unexpected, pressing need to make sure he was alright. Shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, she had fought against her impulses all day. She had busied herself with paperwork and answered calls about power outages and other inconveniences that came with the cold, wintry Maine weather, but there weren't enough jobs by early afternoon to keep her mind from wandering back to him and her eyes from every so often floating up to check the clock.

David knew something was bothering her; Emma could feel her father's eyes studying her for clues to her agitation. However, he was also wise enough to bite his tongue and not ask questions. She wanted to tell him to go on home to Snow, and she would finish up. Yet she didn't, knowing that would only make him more curious. Resolutely, stubbornly, she kept finding any bit of busy work she could lay her hands on to stop the disconcerting waves of concern for him that were now rolling through her at regular intervals.

'He's a 300-year-old pirate captain, for Heaven's sake!' her mind berated her seeming irrationality. 'He can certainly take care of himself in a sleepy little town. What in the world could he need you for? You haven't had word of any kind of trouble…' Still, while all of these arguments made perfect, reasonable sense, Emma found they didn't soothe her unease in the slightest.

When the clock finally struck five, David stood casually, announcing that since they weren't busy he was going to head home and help Snow with supper, if Emma didn't need anything. Emma shook her head 'no' with a small smile, thanking him and saying she would see him shortly.

"You're sure I can't do anything else to help before I leave?" her father asked sincerely, again looking at her so closely that Emma knew he was trying to divine her thoughts.

"Positive," she reiterated with a definite nod, giving him a playful smirk and waving him out the door. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I should be right behind you in an hour or so."

Once her father had left her to her own devices, Emma tossed the case files she had been pretending to read across the surface of her desk and gave up all pretense of working. Standing up and beginning to pace, she at last admitted to herself that the worry swirling inside her for Hook was not going away – in fact, it was only growing stronger. Taking one last glance around the interior of the station, she realized that she wasn't going to get anything else done, and she wouldn't have any peace until she put her awful hunch to rest. Hook was going to tease her mercilessly about her concern for him, but apparently she was going to have to live with that. The fact that he tended to haunt her steps and turn up anywhere she might be, made it especially disconcerting that she hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. At least, she was telling herself that was all it was.

She grabbed her jacket, hit the lights, locked up, and was headed for her car before she could fight with herself any longer. Parking the bug at the docks, Emma stepped out, straightened her clothes, and steeled her nerves before striding purposefully to the spot at the far end where the Jolly Roger had been anchored since their return from Neverland. Normally, the Captain was so alert and aware that the moment he heard anyone nearing his ship he would have already been standing on deck looking down in challenge, but Emma didn't see any sign of him.

Walking up the gangplank, she let her boots stomp and echo loudly; giving him fair warning that she was coming aboard and expecting him to appear any minute with an "Oi! Who goes there?" and brandished sword, but she was greeted with nothing but silence. Finding her footing on the familiar wooden deck, Emma actually experienced a strange sense of welcome reunion. Since they weren't hiding from Pan and Henry was safe, it was actually nice to be on the sturdy ship once more. She could have really grown to like the adventure and thrill of sailing, if the situation had been different and her son hadn't been in danger. She didn't linger in her nostalgic thoughts for long though. Trailing a gloved hand fondly along the ship's side, she moved toward the open door of the stairway which led below decks. Poking her head in, she tried calling out, "Hook?! Are you here?"

Again she got no response, so tamping down the feeling of trespass, she entered the darkness of the stairwell and stepped lower, growing more concerned all the time. 'Where had the insufferable idiot gotten to? And even more disturbing, why did she care?'

Remembering the lower level of the ship from their time in Neverland, she found her way down the hallway with a guiding hand along the wall, even though evening dusk was closing in and none of the hanging lanterns were lit. She passed the crew quarters that the rest of them had stayed in and didn't stop until she reached the room at the furthest end of the ship – the Captain's quarters. Pausing for a second, she drew in a quick, tight breath and then rapped her knuckles on the door. "If you're in there, Pirate, you'd better answer me," she warned, before adding with wry humor, "and I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in."

Whatever she had been expecting, the sight that met Emma's eyes when she entered Hook's chamber was not it. He was there, but the laughter that had been about to erupt at bursting in and catching him by surprise died in her throat when she got her first good look at him.

He was curled up in his bunk, even though it was barely 5:30, and he looked dead to the world, completely unaware of her presence despite all her yelling and stomping around. Even from across the room, she could see those unfairly long, gorgeous eyelashes flutter fitfully as he hovered not-quite-asleep, not-quite-awake, and he rolled from his side to his back with a pitiful, low groan.

"Hook?" she questioned worriedly, her voice small as she walked toward him, already stretching out a hand hesitantly. Once she got close enough to touch him, she nearly jerked back on contact; his skin was burning with fever under her fingertips. Emma gasped in surprise and leaned in closer, now truly concerned that he wasn't responding to her. She swiped her hand up his sculpted cheekbone to brush under the fringe of his dark hair and feel his forehead, equally hot and clammy from dried sweat.

It might have been the cool feeling of her hand on his flushed skin, but those stunning blue eyes, looking much more bleary and unfocused than usual, finally forced their way open to gaze at her in confusion. "Swan?" he mumbled, his voice sounding ragged and raw, probably from coughing, she realized sympathetically, "What are you…? Am I dreaming?"

She shook her head, smoothing his damp hair back and trying to calm her heart, which was now fluttering erratically at seeing him so vulnerable. "No, I'm here, Hook….I…" she hesitated, feeling that maybe she was giving too much away, "I just had a feeling…that something was wrong…that you needed help."

Hook started to smirk at her and, she was sure, offer some sort of smug comment on her admission, but he was shaken by violent tremors just then, shivering uncontrollably and a gruff sort of moan escaped against his will instead.

Her heart went out to him. Emma had honestly never pictured the man getting ill; he had survived a violent amputation, the Dark One's hand squeezing his heart, the rough, dangerous adventures of a pirate, and centuries of life in more than one realm. She would almost want to tease him for being felled by something as simple as the flu – if she weren't so concerned at the condition she found him in. She couldn't help wondering how long he had been lying there like that. Had he taken too much of a chill before she even arrived? What would have happened if she hadn't felt so compelled to come looking for him?

Reaching her other hand out in an effort to take his good one, Emma heard Hook's breath wheeze disturbingly as his mouth fell open, obviously trying to get a deeper breath through what must be badly congested lungs. "We'll be lucky if you haven't holed up in this drafty old boat and let your flu turn into bronchitis, Buddy," she chided him.

He tried to chuckle good naturedly, she could tell, but it became a wracking fit of coughs that made him clutch at his ribs and squeeze her hand in his, as if for reassurance that she was still there. "Hang in there," she whispered, squeezing back. "You're going to be okay." He barely nodded, but then his eyes fluttered closed and he didn't respond to her anymore. His loud, openmouthed, stuffy breathing let her know not to be alarmed, but Emma took the chance to look away from him and glance around the cabin.

There was a fireplace, but he had obviously not even felt strong enough to get up and tend it, as it had sunk to embers and was about to go out. She felt her own teeth nearly chattering it was so chilly in the room. He should probably be taken to someone's house – or to the hospital – but she didn't think she could move him alone, or that he was going to be able to stand and help her much.

Forcing herself to clear her head and draw in a deep, steadying breath, Emma tried to focus on one problem at a time. She pulled her hand from his clasp, and then patted his arm gently as if to reassure him she would only be a minute, though he made no movement and seemed out of it again. Stepping to the other side of the room, Emma took the poker from the mantle and stoked the fire until the embers flickered to a bit more life, then added a couple new logs. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't looking, and then began to rummage carefully through the heavy old trunk she spotted in the corner until she found a few more blankets than the single one that Hook was using – which must have already been on the bed. He was obviously sweating and feverish, but she knew that he was still chilled and needed to stay covered.

Coming back to his bedside, she sat tentatively on the edge of his bunk, just next to his hips and gently spread both blankets over his inert form, tucking them in with a level of care and concern that bewildered, frightened, and warmed her all at once. Hook didn't even open his eyes, but let out a breathy sigh and murmured in a voice even lower and rougher than usual, "Emma…you came…"

Her name on his lips with such pure and simple affection stilled her motions and she froze for a moment, hands hovering over him as if she had forgotten how to move. Blinking, Emma came back out of her trance and stood again, looking around to see that the fire was crackling and the room was already less cold. With a nod of approval to herself, she quickly escaped above deck for a moment.

She knew her first call should be her parents, to let them know she wouldn't be coming for supper after all. However, she dreaded explaining to her suspicious, overprotective father why she had felt the need to check on Captain Hook and now didn't want to leave him sick and alone. So she put it off by calling Ruby first, knowing the other woman was about to get off work at the diner and asking her to pick up some orange juice, bottled water, cough syrup, and Kleenexes, and bring them to the Jolly, promising she would explain when Ruby arrived. Then, once she couldn't put it off any longer, Emma was relieved to get Snow on her parents' phone. Her mother actually seemed concerned about the Captain as well and wanted to help, but Emma managed to dissuade her – for reasons she didn't even want to study too carefully. She informed her mother she would be back in the morning, once she made sure Hook had some fluids in him and his fever had broken, and they ended the call.

She paced on the deck until she saw Ruby striding down the dock – sashaying was more like it. The female wolf had a sort of wild grace even in her human form that Emma wasn't ashamed to admit she envied. Emma gave Snow's best friend a wave, and Ruby grinned widely, holding up the bag of requested items. Emma thanked her, explained what was going on, paid Ruby, and tried not to dwell on how anxious she was to get back to Hook and make sure he wasn't any worse.

"You've got it bad and don't even know yet," Ruby murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously at Emma.

Emma felt her hackles rise as she shot back defensively, "What are you talking about?"

Ruby just raised an eyebrow at Emma, giving her a look that said she might be fooling herself, but it was right there for anyone else to see. "You can't lie to someone with a canine sense of smell," Ruby smirked teasingly. "The pheromones are literally rolling off of you in waves. Not that I blame you…" she paused, licking her lips almost predatorily, "…that swagger, those eyes, and all that leather…"

Emma snorted indelicately, rolling her eyes at the waitress' antics and turning Ruby to give her a push towards the gangplank. "You're crazy!" she added, laughing even as her pulse raced with the truth and she hoped the other woman couldn't sense that too.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sheriff," Ruby called back as she sidled off with a wave. "I'll let you go…for now. But I want details later." She turned once to wink at Emma, then she was gone, her chuckling at Emma's expense fading behind her.

Once Ruby had left, Emma redirected her steps below; trying to wipe her mind clean of the werewolf's teasing and her heart's whispering that what Ruby said was true. She stepped back into Hook's cabin, eyes immediately drawn to him across the room as she rooted through the bag to pull out the medicine and a bottle of water. She moved closer, only to see that he was shaking, teeth chattering, limbs shuddering enough that the blankets were sliding off him. His eyes were no longer closed, and they rolled up to meet hers weakly as he coughed harshly, sounding as though it raked his chest raw. "No need to gawk at me, Emma love, it's embarrassing enough having you here when I'm like this." He didn't get any more out though as the effort of speaking set off another coughing fit. Trembling, he suddenly wouldn't look her in the eyes.

She took pity on his pride and leaned in to help him sit, offering the plastic cup of cough syrup.

Hook wrinkled his nose, looking at it doubtfully for a moment, then glanced to her, "What is this, Lass?"

"Medicine, you stubborn pirate," she laughed, shaking her head at his hesitation and holding it out to him again. "Come on, I'm trying to help. We need to get some liquids in you."

He held out his hand to take the cup from her, but his fingers trembled so badly that Emma could see he was going to spill it all if he did. With a sigh, she brought it to his lips instead, tilting it so he could swallow, and gasped slightly, feeling a tingling sensation run through her hand as her knuckle brushed his chin. Their eyes locked together at the shock of the contact and neither moved until he shivered violently again, the shakes actually rattling his teeth and jerking them from the strange sort of reverie they had entered.

"Go on, Beautiful," he grit out, lying back as comfortably as he could manage and averting his eyes, "can't have you getting sick too. I'll survive. It will not be the first time in 300 years that I've been ill."

Something about the way he said those words and the look in his eyes stopped Emma cold. Her insides squeezed painfully at the thought of him suffering like this before with no one to rely on or even care if he recovered or not. That realization alone made her more determined than ever to take care of him, despite him being too proud to ask for help or want to trouble her. She shook her head, leaning with him as he tried to back away from her. "Nope, sorry, Hook. You're stuck with me." She held out the water bottle next. "Here, drink up."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to growl at her, but the menacing effect was ruined by his raw throat and how pathetic it ended up sounding. "I'm not an infant, Swan." He grumbled a bit more, but drank about half the bottle with her holding it for him, before he stopped with a short sigh of frustration. "Go on. You must have better things to do, and I don't wish to impose."

"Really?" she shot back at him, arching a brow at his attitude, but not put off by it for a second. It was scary how alike they were; she could tell he detested looking vulnerable in front of her, or anyone. If she was honest with herself, she probably acted the same way anytime she was sick. "Stop being such a baby, Hook," she added, kicking her boots off and hanging her coat over his desk chair, "and slide over."

She nearly laughed out loud at his startled expression, and his confused, "Swan? What are you on about?"

"You're sick. You're cold. You need someone to look after you. I'm the only one here, so I'm not leaving. However, I'm tired, and it's chilly, so scoot over."

For a second, she thought he was going to fight her, and she wasn't sure if he was embarrassed, worried she would get sick, or if he truly was – despite all his innuendo – the gentleman he had always claimed to be. A round of chills and coughing gripped him again though, and when his head dropped to the pillow once more in defeat, she knew she had won. "Scoot," she ordered again, lifting the covers to crawl in next to him once he did.

So close to him, Emma realized how clammy and chilled Hook truly was. He had felt like he was burning up earlier, but the shivers would be hard to miss, curled up next to him as she was. To her amusement, as reluctant as he had seemed moments before, Hook was now pulling her closer. "You're so warm, Emma," he murmured, his arm coming to rest across her middle and shooting heat through her veins.

"You're a little bit out of your head right now, aren't you?" she teased him, still genuinely concerned, but also touched at the fact that he had allowed her comfort, feeling needed and wanted right where she was. Without thinking, or stopping to second guess what her hand did instinctively, she began to lightly stroke her fingers through his coarse, black hair, sifting it soothingly and watching as his breathing smoothed out and his forehead came to rest in the crook of her neck. It gave her an adorable little thrill in her stomach at the sight of him looking so young and unguarded, as if his burdens had lifted away.

"Emma," he murmured out under his breath, and neither the scratchiness nor the softness could mask the gentle affection in his voice.

Her heart stuttered, wondering what he was thinking as he whispered her name in his sleep. For a second, she wanted to panic and bolt, but then she realized how lovely the moment actually was. She could honestly lie right there with him and never want to move away. Occasionally, a small little tremor still ran through him, but they seemed to finally be lessening. She smirked wryly to herself, knowing that if she was smart, she would be out of his bed by morning, before he woke up feeling better and ready to plague her mercilessly for all of this. She lightly traced her hand in circles on his back, hoping he was warm enough and that she had gotten enough medicine down his throat.

Shaking her head, Emma chuckled at the way he had curled himself around her protectively, smiling in his sleep unawares. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy, and the thoughts that had troubled and distracted her all day simply floated out of her mind. She was almost grateful she had the excuse to be so close to him and hold him; she would never have done it otherwise. Defining this could wait; she was going to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Tenderly, she tilted her head just a bit to place a light little kiss to his forehead, amazed at how beautifully at peace he looked in sleep, then cuddled deeper into their embrace. Deciding just this once not to be in control, but simply to feel, she allowed her eyes to close and followed her pirate's lead, drifting off to sleep at his side.

(I was originally so flattered that "Under the Weather" received so many nice reviews, that though I really only had that one-shot in mind, the requests for the next morning caused me to re-think and come up with this. After all, good reviews are nearly as irresistible as Killian Jones' smile. It's (again) pretty sweet and fluffy...)

Epilogue: The Next Morning

Rays of warm, golden sunlight filtered into his cabin, tickling Killian Jones' face and waking him groggily from sleep. He yawned, intending to roll over and go back to sleep, when he froze, his movement arrested in shocked surprise at discovering that he was not alone in his bunk. He stiffened, years of being on guard and ready for attack taking over unconsciously as he turned his head tentatively to the side. Despite the lingering stuffiness and congestion in his head and the weak sensation in his limbs, he was pirate enough to have already reached for the cutlass he had stowed at his other side before lying down the night before, tucked hidden between the edge of the bunk and the wall. However, the vision that greeted his eyes stilled his actions and stole his very breath.

Emma Swan was curled up next to him, actually cuddled into his side, her long, blonde tresses arrayed across the pillow with the sunlight glancing off them in a glowing halo. She let out a sweet little sigh and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, bringing her hand to rest unknowingly on his chest. There was a look of such peace on her face, that he had never seen her wear in waking hours, and it completely enchanted him.

Killian knew without a doubt that if he woke her, she would run – shut him out again, pick up her cares once more, and reinforce her walls. It pained him, but he knew it to be true, as surely as he breathed. He wanted desperately, more than he had any right to hope, for her to stay. Emma had come to him, cared for him, when he was ill and alone, and it had kindled a longing in him that she would trust him enough to stay always. From the moment he had met her, with her fiery eyes and stony determination, a modern woman out of her element in the Enchanted Forest, he had been drawn to her as strongly as had been pulling away from him. She didn't want to be abandoned as she had been before, so she had made sure to leave him first. He had been following her ever since. Her turning up last night changed the game. Suddenly, he was not the only one who cared.

Emma's brow furrowed in her sleep, as if something in her dreams troubled her, and hoping to soothe her, Killian reached over to brush a finger across her cheek, feather light, then smoothed the crinkled skin between her eyes. He was hoping to ease her back into quiet slumber, not wanting her to wake, or for this dream to end. It was as if he had wakened into a serene moment of refuge from the world that had been nothing but a bitter storm of hate and cruelty for as long as he could remember – until she entered it.

Her lovely face smoothed again, and she mumbled sleepily, a tiny smile quirking one corner of her perfect, tempting mouth. She practically hummed the word that he leaned in to hear. "Killian…" she whispered, her tone sounding so warm and happy caressing his given name that he could not help but smile and long for the day when she might speak it to him with that much affection while awake.

It didn't matter that his throat was still raw and he would kill for a drink. He tried to stifle the need to cough, for fear it would jostle the golden-haired angel who had now rolled over to face him and twined her legs with his as surely as she had twined her grasp around his heart. He hardly dared to breathe, much less move, but he was still staggered by how much better he felt just being able to clumsily sift his calloused fingers through the strands of her silky mane.

Sunlight might have been pouring in to wake them, but he was going to ignore it for the chance to have this incredible, broken, infuriating woman in his arms as long as her possibly could. "I love you, Emma lass," he whispered hoarsely under his breath, placing a kiss to her temple. Then he closed his eyes, not sure if he could actually manage sleep with her so near, but needing to savor this moment. So gently it was almost imperceptible, he cradled her even closer to the warmth of his body, glad he had woken to find her still there.

Someday, he did desire to wake her with languid kisses trailing down her neck and along her collarbone, whispering endearments before either keeping her in his bed all day to love her as she deserved or venturing out to fetch her breakfast and talk to her and she readied for a new morn. Yet he knew that day had not yet come. He would not rush her. Instead, he would celebrate the step she had taken in allowing him to know of her concern for his well-being. He would hold her close enough to memorize and treasure the feeling – in all probability, she would fight its happening again anytime soon – and be glad she had given him reason to hope. Killian touched one flaxen strand of her hair, twirled it around his finger for a moment, and then tucked it behind her ear. "I can wait as long as you need, Emma," he whispering fervently. "I have all the time in the world."

Tagging a few who might be interested (or were before): @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @kday426 @stahlop @xhookswenchx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @wefoundloveunderthelight @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @let-it-raines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tomeandflickcorner @scientificapricot @drowned-dreamer @blowmiakisscolin @ineffablecolors @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @sailtoafarawayland @xsajx @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #cs s3 hiatus fic #under the weather #mild hurt comfort #pirate with a cold #cs two shot

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inner-sakura · 2 years

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Hypothetically Ever After

[childhood friends AU, adrienette, slowburn, fake/pretend relationship]

With only two weeks of summer vacation to spare, Marinette enlists Adrien’s help with a task of utmost importance.

“I need you to help me seduce your brother.”

Quite predictably, nothing goes according to plan.

a fic loosely inspired by @starrycove’s Brothers AU from approximately 9835 years ago that has lived in my head and my heart ever since.

read it on: ff.net | AO3

< prev chapter | next chapter >

chapter twenty-two

Chloe and Adrien’s hasty exit hadn’t only left Marinette adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces, it had also left her with several burning questions.

Their whole exchange had been incredibly suspicious, and Marinette couldn’t help but be uncomfortably reminded of her conversation with Alya from earlier that week, and the remark she'd made about there potentially being other plots afoot.

A seed of uncertainty had been planted, and Chloe’s half-finished statement had provided the food and water it needed to spread its insidious roots just a little more deeply.

Marinette stared unseeingly down at her drink, thoughts a-whirl as she contemplated what exactly Adrien might need to 'work up the nerve' to tell her.

Unbidden, her mind flashed with an image—the snapshot it had taken of Adrien’s face in the moments before he'd dragged Chloe from the room. The expression was there and gone in an instant, but because she'd already been looking, she’d seen it clear as day.

The burst of panic in his eyes, the vaguely guilty tilt of his brows—all but incontrovertible proof that Adrien was, in fact, hiding something.

Marinette shifted in her seat, ill at ease and increasingly self-conscious now that she found herself alone, deep behind enemy lines, with reinforcements nowhere in sight.

“Guess I’ll just wait here then. By myself...” She muttered under her breath, taking a long sip from her drink. “This won’t be humiliatingly awkward in the slightest.”

-x-

She sat there for about twenty minutes before someone dared to approach her.

Having long since finished her drink, Marinette was silently debating the merits of retreating to the kitchen in search of another when a voice came from her left.

“Excuse me, are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

She turned, taking in the group of girls standing at the edge of the couch. She didn’t recognize any of them, but they certainly fit the overall vibe of the party.

Young, fashionable, attractive.

And peering down their noses at her.

Marinette withheld a sigh. Here we go.

"Can I help you?" She asked, bracing herself for whatever was to come next.

“My friends and I were actually wondering if you could help settle a bet for us.” The girl who had originally spoken stood front and centre, elected the de facto leader of their little posse most likely on the basis of bravery. Or perhaps, Marinette mused, recognizing the hard glint in her eye, it had been a merit-based promotion awarded for ruthlessness on the battlefield.

Either way, the other girl was as beautiful as she was intimidating; her red hair shiny and pin-straight where it rested over her shoulders, her figure tall and statuesque like that of a model. She positively loomed above Marinette, who at that point was idly wondering whether it would even do her any good if she stood to face her opponent down.

The only way we’d probably be on eye level is if I got up on the couch, Marinette noted with chagrin, envying the taller girl her strategic height advantage.

Evidently mistaking her apprehensive silence for acquiescence, the redhead continued speaking.

“My friend here—” she gestured with a thumb to the doe-eyed brunette beside her, who appeared torn between condescension and embarrassment; an emotional smorgasbord that, unfortunately for her, mainly left her looking like a very sullen baby deer “—wanted to know whether the rumors were true. Are you really dating Adrien Agreste?”

Ah.

Their gazes were intent on her now, honed in and searching for any hint of weakness. Marinette didn't even need to look to know that everyone within hearing distance of their conversation was also listening in—the way the chatter around them had slowly petered off was a dead giveaway.

People could clearly scent potential drama brewing, and no one wanted to miss a second of it.

Vultures, the lot of them.

Internally Marinette shook a fist at the sky, cursing Adrien to the high heavens for abandoning her in order to confab with Chloe. She could really use the diplomatic immunity that came with his celebrity status right about then. Instead, she had to settle for saying, “Pardon?” as though she hadn’t very clearly heard and understood the redhead's question.

It didn’t have the desired effect though. Rather, it caused the other girl to smile widely, a sense of smug satisfaction practically oozing out of her pores.

“See, I knew it wasn’t true,” she said, sharing a look with her companions. “I told you there was no way that Adrien would ever date someone like her... They’re obviously just friends.”

“Or maybe she’s a charity case.” Someone muttered under their breath, their half-assed attempt at subtlety carrying quite easily to Marinette’s ears.

And to those of the people standing around them, judging by the tittering in the crowd. Marinette felt herself flush, heat creeping over her along with a sense of dread.

Do not give these harpies the satisfaction of reacting! Her inner-Alya voice coached her. That is exactly what they want!!!

Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, the redhead leered down at her, most likely waiting for Marinette to embarrass herself by pitching a fit or fleeing from the room in tears.

Which, Marinette decided then and there, she absolutely would not be doing.

Instead, rather than reacting outwardly, she took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through her nose as she reclined in her seat. Crossing her ankles neatly in front of her, Marinette attempted to project the image of someone who was as relaxed and at ease as a queen holding court.

Doing her best to channel Chloe Bourgeois’ particular brand of Bitch, she raised an eyebrow in what she hoped was an imperious manner.

“I'm sorry, have we met?”

The girls blinked as one, glancing uncertainly amongst themselves in the face of her non-reaction.

“Um, no?” The cranky Bambi-faced one answered.

“That’s so odd…” Marinette tilted her head slightly, adopting a look of innocent confusion as she put a finger to her chin in thought. “I could have sworn I’d met most of Adrien’s friends... How do you all know one another?”

The redhead faltered, taken off guard by the question.

“I mean, we don’t technically know him, but—”

Gotcha.

“Oh. I see.” Marinette let her lips curve up in a slow smile, making eye contact with each girl in turn. “I just figured you must be friends of Adrien’s, since you’re so concerned about his personal life and all. My mistake!” She made a point to turn up the wattage of her smile until it bordered less on anything resembling amicability, and became more of a territorial baring of teeth. So it's none of your damn business then, is what you're telling me.

Her expression appeared to effectively get the message across, judging by the increasingly nervous shifting in their ranks. It seemed like the redhead and her merry band of miscreants might finally be clueing in to the fact that this interaction wouldn't be ending as favourably as they had hoped.

Well tough shit for them, Marinette thought with a flash of vindictive pleasure. She had no intention of just rolling over and letting them walk all over her like a ratty old doormat. Normally she made a point of trying to give everyone the benefit of the doubt—treating others with politeness and kindness even if it felt like they might not deserve it—but she knew people like this. These girls were bullies, plain and simple. And they would always be on the hunt for other victims; people who might not be as confident or as capable of sticking up for themselves.

Therefore it was up to Marinette to put them in their place, regardless of whether the numbers were on her side. Things might not work out in her favour, but she had to try nonetheless.

"I'm not usually in the habit of sharing Adrien's secrets with people who are—" here she gave them a loaded look "—outside of his friend group, as it were, but since you're all here I suppose Adrien might forgive me for spilling the beans just this one time."

Marinette leaned in as though she were taking them into her confidence, pretending to be oblivious to the way the rest of the room's occupants were clearly hanging onto her every word. The girls responded in kind, swaying towards her seemingly in spite of themselves.

“I'm sorry you had to come all the way over here just for me to disappoint you, ladies, but I will have you know that Adrien Agreste is very much taken.” Marinette rose slowly to her feet, maintaining eye contact with their ringleader as she delivered her next line. "Not that it's any of your business either way."

“Now, if that was all, you’ll really have to excuse me," she said, rattling the ice cubes around in her empty glass. "I’m going to get myself another drink... All this girl talk has left my throat parched. Ta!” She gave them a jaunty little wave that she knew bordered on insolent, and made to leave.

From the corner of her eye she saw the redhead reach for her, her beautiful face bright red and twisted in an ugly snarl. “Hey wait a minute, bitch—”

Adrenaline spiking, Marinette barely had the chance to register what was happening before she found herself being pulled out of harm's way, and back against a warm, firm body.

“No need to go anywhere, Princess. I’ve got you covered.” Adrien's hand danced across the skin of her bare back, long fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She fought the urge to shiver.

Marinette turned to him, her face breaking out in a genuine smile as she accepted the drink he pressed into her hand. “Your timing, as always, is impeccable.” Thank god you're here, she willed the message to him with her eyes alone, trusting that Adrien would pick up on her gratitude for the timely intervention. You just saved my ass—literally AND figuratively.

As though in response to her unspoken statement, Adrien pulled her more tightly against him, nestling her into his side. Marinette felt the last of the tension she'd been carrying drain out of her body as the scent of Adrien's cologne and his familiar, steady presence washed over her.

“Is there a problem here?” His eyes were fixed on the gaggle of girls in front of them, face frozen in a smile that was as artificial as plastic, and just as devoid of sincerity.

The girls for their part appeared to be panicking now, gobsmacked by the fact that Adrien Agreste himself had appeared before them in the flesh, and visibly unsettled by the iciness of his stare. The redhead stammered incoherently in response to his question, floundering as she tried, and failed, to come up with some kind of excuse.

“I think they were just leaving,” Chloe stated flatly, coming to stand at Adrien’s other side. “They’ve overstayed their welcome.”

One of the girls burst into tears on the spot. The rest could only stand there, shamefaced.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Chloe waved a hand dismissively in their direction, dispersing the redhead's entourage like a cloud of flies. “Buh-bye! See you never.”

They fled almost instantly, leaving their spokesperson behind with nary a glance. The redhead remained frozen in place, apart from her mouth, which was opening and closing repeatedly like a fish.

Chloe stepped forward, placing herself bodily in front of Adrien and Marinette. “Let me make myself perfectly clear: you came into my house, tried to attack my friends... I don’t ever want to see you again—in my house, on the street, anywhere. You see me, you go in the opposite direction. Capiche?”

She was right in the girl’s face now, her high heels putting them nearly at eye level.

“Get. Out.”

And she did.

Chloe tossed her hair, not bothering to watch the other girl leave, turning instead to the rubberneckers still standing around. “Show’s over, people. Either move it along or start lavishing me with praise if you’re gonna keep gawking.”

The crowd began to disperse, disappointed at having their fun interrupted. As the party began to pick back up around them, Adrien leaned down, canting his head toward her.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, his breath dancing over the shell of her ear in a way that caused even more goosebumps to break out across her skin. His fingers were still splayed against her lower back, leaving trails of happy, distracting tingles along the base of her spine.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Marinette tried to reassure him. In reality, what came out of her mouth was something more along the lines of: “Da wa, fime nine.”

She pulled away, the dual sensation of Adrien's hand on her skin and his breath in her ear doing funny things to her thoughts. It left her brain muddled, the words she wanted jumbling around and tumbling through her head like they were trapped in a washing machine.

Adrien’s face was still very close, his eyebrows quirked in a mixture of amusement and concern.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I had no idea that anything like this would happen here," he sighed, straightening to rub at his temples. "It never even occurred to me—and then I left you alone...” Eyes flicking away from hers, Adrien looked like he was about one second away from full-on self-flagellation. Wanting to pre-empt any overblown and unnecessary acts of penance, Marinette reached out, pulling his hand away from his face and forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Adrien, it’s fine. They were just a bit rude, that’s all. Nothing I haven’t experienced before... I’m fine, really,” she insisted, her eyes boring into his as she tried to drive the message home. “They were harmless.”

“I don’t know about that,” Chloe drawled, stepping up beside them. Marinette had almost forgotten she was even there. “For a second there I thought that redheaded bitch was going to rip your arm off and beat you over the head with it.” She gave Marinette a once-over, an emotion that on anyone else might have passed for respect flashing through her eyes.

“Well done, Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette paused, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned that she’d committed an act foul enough to have earned the Chloe Bourgeois Seal of Approval.

“Uh, thanks... I think.”

"Don't get used to it," Chloe sneered, although Marinette couldn't help but note that it lacked its usual bite.

Before she could think on it further, Chloe had turned to Adrien, her expression softening as she leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Then without further ado, she was flouncing off in a cloud of gold chiffon, loudly exclaiming to anyone who would listen that she was far too in demand to waste all of her precious time with them and that they'd just have to do their best to get on without her.

Which left Adrien and Marinette alone once more.

In a manner of speaking at least.

They were alone apart from the fifteen to twenty other people still in the room, all of whom were staring at them unabashedly, cataloguing their every move as they gossiped about the events of the last ten minutes.

Marinette knew how these things worked. By now word had almost assuredly begun to spread, and it would take no time at all for the story to reach every corner of the house, and quite possibly beyond. She could already picture the headlines:

Extra! Extra! Fisticuffs Fly As Fashion Family's Favourite Face And Free-Wheeling Floozy Fight Off Flock Of Foam-Mouthed Fanatical Fangirls

And if it did go public—which it inevitably would, knowing her luck—then Gabriel Agreste would almost certainly have her killed in her sleep before the week was through, which meant that she should really be out enjoying her last few moments on God's green earth to the fullest, not standing around being gawked at like a lizard in a pet shop window.

“You, uh, wanna go somewhere else?” Adrien widened his eyes at her significantly.

As in literally anywhere that isn’t here, right now.

The silent meaning was not lost on her.

“Please god yes,” Marinette breathed, the words coming out in a rush.

-x-

#ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrinetteapril2022 #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #ml fic #miraculous fanfic #no miraculous au #childhood friends au #ml brothers au #fake relationship #ongoing fic #my fics

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baticorngirl · 3 years

Text

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

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Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

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aph-english-rose · 3 years

Text

Office Talk

So I originally wrote this fic for usuk week but was completely swamped with work and missed it. I’ve decided that instead of leaving it completed but abandoned that I’ll post even though the event it was intended for has been and gone.

This was inspired by the 2021 usuk week prompt for day 1: Rumours!

Paring: USUK

Words: 2711

Summary: Arthur has been the centre of many rumours since taking on the role of personal assistant. However, the most recent rumour floating around the office appears to be based upon more than just gossip.

You can also read it on AO3 or on FF.Net

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Arthur knew that something was off the moment he walked into the break room. Francis was lingering suspiciously beside the kettle in the corner, his lower back resting against the countertop. His fingertips were wrapped around an obnoxiously coloured reusable coffee cup, eyes staring off into the distance until he heard Arthur enter.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the man himself,” He remarked as Arthur approached him.

Naturally, Francis - being the irritating twit that he was – had positioned himself awkwardly in front of the kettle, the only thing Arthur needed to use in the entire breakroom. Francis never attempted to move out his way, watching in amusement as Arthur struggled around him. He barely even flinched when Arthur ‘accidentally’ elbowed him on the back of the head as he pulled out two reusable cups in monotone colours and set them on the counter.

“Are you planning to move at all?” Arthur huffed, a scowl forming on his face as he flicked the kettle to boil. Francis merely smirked at him from behind his coffee cup and took a loud slurp of his drink. Arthur felt his left eye twitch. Although he knew Francis was simply playing and meant no harm, the Frenchman knew full well what tiny little things made Arthur’s teeth grind. Knowing that Francis had no intentions of moving, Arthur worked around him, reaching across the counter for a tea bag and placing it in one of the cups along with two spoonsful of sugar. In the other, Arthur poured the perfect amount of coffee granules.

“You’re the talk of the office this morning you know.”

“Why? What have I done this time?” Arthur asked, squeezing himself into the tiny gap Francis had left for him where the corners of the countertops met. He mirrored Francis’ stance, his back leaning against the counter and his arms folded against his chest as the kettle whistled away behind him. They were unnecessarily close, their arms pressed against each other, but neither made the motion to shuffle up and make more space. If Francis wanted to play this game, then Arthur was happy to oblige. Besides, in a battle such as this both knew Arthur was the most stubborn and wouldn’t back down. Arthur knew that eventually Francis would lose interest. Luckily, being this close didn’t bring much discomfort. Arthur had known Francis since they were teenagers. They had grown up together and as a much as they enjoyed winding each other up, Arthur knew it was merely playful banter and that Francis genuinely cared about him.

“There is a rather juicy rumour floating around.”

“How lovely.”

“Even I am starting to wonder if it’s true and you know I’m not one for rumours.”

Arthur snorted a laugh, turning to make his drinks as soon as the kettle had come to boil. Arthur didn’t believe Francis for a single second. Francis was the biggest gossiper in the entire office. The only reason Arthur knew half the employees in the building was because of Francis and his inability to stay quiet. He thrived off the tales, bouncing from one person to another until he had heard all sides of story. Only then, when he had figured out the facts, did he pester Arthur with the information. Sometimes Arthur wondered if he was in the wrong career. Surely someone with such skills would make an impressive investigator.

“Of course not. Are you going to tell me this rumour or am I going to find out from Linda when she comes to clean up this evening?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’m just not sure you’re going to like what you hear with this one.”

That made Arthur’s curiosity tingle. A rumour about him that he wouldn’t like? How interesting. Arthur had been the subject of many rumours during his time in the office, all of which were utterly ridiculous and contained no ounce of truth to them. The previous rumour that had involved Arthur claimed he were a vampire enslaved by his boss to carry out his orders. It was so absurd that he and Francis had cried laughing for hours to a point where Arthur was concerned that he would have to ring an ambulance.

However, this time, Francis appeared cautious. Had he already figured out the facts and concluded that Arthur would react negatively to such rumours floating around? It made Arthur’s thoughts race, sifting through his previous schedule for something out of the ordinary for such rumours to spark. Had he acted differently whilst on shift? Had someone caught him talking to himself? Surely not. Arthur’s one-way conversations were always contained to the privacy of his office or an empty elevator. The most that Arthur ever did whilst at work was go up and down in elevators for coffee breaks, answer the constantly ringing phone, book appointments and sift through thousands upon thousands of emails.

“I’m listening,” Arthur said as he finished making the drinks. Once again, he worked around Francis, returning everything to their rightful positions and throwing the spoon he had used into the sink to wash later. Once the coffee cup lids had been clicked into place, Arthur carefully gathered them into his hands. They were pleasantly warm, the reusable cups doing their job at holding in the heat so Arthur could carry them without fear of burning himself.

“Well,” Francis started as they left the break room together. “Gilbert told me, that Erzsébet told him, that she heard from Emma, that Michelle saw you down at that Italian place with the big boss last night.”

Arthur almost spat out the sip of tea he had taken. He spluttered as he struggled to swallow the hot liquid, glaring at Francis as he harshly pounded his back. When Arthur finally felt like he could breathe again, he jabbed an elbow into Francis’ side to stop him from hitting him again. He was cautiously aware of the way the boiling drinks his hands were sloshing around in their cups, waiting for the opportune moment to spill all over him.

Arthur out on a date? With their boss of all people? How ludicrous. Arthur desperately tried to prevent the heat rising to his cheeks, taking a steadying breath in an attempt to slow his quickening heart rate.

“How utterly ridiculous.”

“Were you?”

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

“You know as well as I that Michelle isn’t usually the type to start rumours.”

“Perhaps she’s turned over a new leaf.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Francis gave him a stern look that told Arthur he wouldn’t rest until his questions were answered. Looking down the hall ahead, Arthur saw the elevator and immediately his strides grew faster.

“Francis, I’m Alfred’s personal assistant. I am paid to follow him around, schedule his day and generally do as he asks. The only way I would voluntarily spend time with him outside of business hours were if the bloke were to pay me a hefty sum of money,” He explained, watching as Francis kindly pressed the elevator button for him.

“I had to ask!” Francis grinned, holding up the single hand that wasn’t holding his cup in innocence. The gentle ping of the elevator arriving on their floor sounded like music to Arthur’s ears, the doors opening slowly and revealing it to be empty. Arthur felt like he had been blessed. Drinks in hand, Arthur backed into the elevator and quirked a suspicious eyebrow at Francis who remained where he was.

“Of course you did. Oh, tell Gilbert, Erzsébet, Emma and Michelle to stop gossiping and get on with their work. Alfred doesn’t pay them to sit around and spread rumours about his assistant.”

“But gossiping is so fun!” Francis pouted, blue eyes watching as Arthur jabbed a finger into the elevator panel, signalling his exit. “It makes my day go faster. Plus, I’m not sure I believe you anyway. Your cheeks are red and you have your liar face on.”

“Goodbye Francis,” Arthur smirked, holding up one of the cups in a gesture of farewell as the doors began to close. He could see the way Francis narrowed his eyes at him, uncertain of the truth within the rumour.

As soon as the doors clinked closed and the elevator began to rise, Arthur let out a long sigh. What a morning it had been so far. The elevator took him up several floors uninterrupted. Arthur was thankful for the peace and quiet. When it arrived on the correct floor, the familiar ping sounded, and the doors opened slowly this time onto an extremely quiet floor of the building.

Arthur stepped out and made his way down the hallway ahead. Looking down at the carpet, he was surprised he hadn’t worn it out by the number of times he passed this way. He felt as if this route around the office was programmed into his brain.

Ever aware of the increasing warmth in his hands, Arthur passed by the door with his name etched into the silver plague and continued down the hall. At the very end stood a smart looking door, a golden plague shimmering on its front with the words ‘Alfred F Jones, CEO’ engraved into it.

Polite as ever, he stopped outside and tapped on the door with his elbow. When a quiet ‘come in’ came from inside, Arthur once again relied on his elbow to press down on the handle and open the door. It swung inwards into a large spacious room. The first thing that Arthur noticed was the view, one of the walls on the right made completely of floor to ceiling glass overlooking the bustling city below. On a clear day like today, it was easy to see off into the distance and spot the towering mountains littering the skyline.

“You took your time,” said a voice. Arthur rolled his eyes and closed the door with his foot, heading in the direction of the desk on the left of the room, situated opposite the breath-taking view.

The desk was long and neatly organised with all the essentials one would need to run a business smoothly. A fancy computer screen was angled on the desk as to not block the view and a neatly stapled booklet of paper that had once lay prominent on the desk was being shuffled into a brown file out of sight from wondering eyes. In front of the desk were two comfortable looking chairs, angled perfectly to face its centre and readily awaiting use when the next private meeting came around.

“I was harassed by a certain Frenchman,” Arthur replied, weaving around the chair, and handing one of the cups across the desk to its eagerly awaiting owner.

Alfred was slouched in the comforts of his desk chair. The collar of his dress shirt had been unbuttoned, his tied slackened to lay lazily against his chest and the jacket of his suit hung smartly across the back of his chair. He smiled as he leant forward and took the cup from Arthur, beautiful blue eyes seeming to sparkle at him from behind the silver frame of his glasses.

“Thanks,” he said before taking a long, clearly needed, gulp of his coffee. He hummed at the taste; eyeing Arthur as he set the cup onto a designated coaster. Arthur copied his movements, taking a quick drink of his still boiling hot tea before placing the cup on the other unoccupied coast beside Alfred’s. “What did he want?”

“To inform me of another delightful rumour.”

“Let me guess, you’re secretly a spy trying to infiltrate my company?” Alfred grinned, relaxing back into his chair with his hands resting behind his head. Arthur’s green eyes followed the way his shirt pulled taught, begging to be untucked from his waistband.

“Oh, I’m most definitely a spy,” Arthur smirked playfully, walking around the desk.

“I knew it!” Alfred laughed, pushing his chair back away from the desk and opening his arms in Arthur’s direction. The Brit took the invitation with no hesitation, walking straight to Alfred and perching comfortably in his lap. The CEO hoisted Arthur up, throwing his legs over the arms of the chair on one side. With one arm comfortably secured around Arthur’s back and the other settled across his waist, Alfred’s hands clasped together to engulf Arthur in his warm embrace.

“Apparently I was spotted down at Vargas’ place on a date with the big boss last night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-hm.”

“And what did you say?” Alfred mumbled as he pressed his nose into the crook of Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s eyes instinctually fluttered closed as he felt Alfred’s lips caress his skin, trailing sweet kisses from the crook of his neck to the base of his ear.

“I said that the boss would have to pay me quite the sum of money if he wanted me to spend time with him outside of work.”

“How much we talking?”

Arthur turned his head to face Alfred when he pulled away. Their faces were mere inches apart, Alfred’s breath dancing across his skin. Alfred had his eyebrow quirked as if genuinely curious.

“Thousands, perhaps even millions.”

“Ah, well, I’ll gladly pay you millions in kisses,” Alfred whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur found his arms reaching up to entangle themselves around Alfred’s neck, pulling him closer when the other tried to pull away. Arthur grumbled an incoherent grunt that sounded somewhere along the lines of ‘not yet’ before dragging Alfred back in for another, much longer kiss. Alfred’s arms held him tight, his hand coming to rest on Arthur’s hip and rub tingling circles through the fabric of his clothes.

“This is why you’re the centre of all these rumours,” Alfred whispered between kisses until Arthur was satisfied and pulled back.

“Shut up,” He huffed, turning his head so Alfred was left once again kissing the side of his head. “It’s not my fault. You’re just as clinging – if not more so when we are at work!”

“Hey, I’m the boss I can do what I like.”

“I know, that’s why you’re never the one covering off these bloody rumours.”

“Who started it?”

“Michelle apparently, although I’m not sure I believe that,” Arthur explained, looking over to the windows and admiring the view. Would Michelle really waste her time ensuring a rumour about him made its way around the office?

“Why not? She looks like the gossiping type.”

“I’m pretty sure Francis is onto us. In fact, I don’t believe there is a rumour at all. I think Francis just needed an excuse to ask me himself without doing so directly.”

Alfred laughed at that, nuzzling his nose affectionately against Arthur’s hair until he turned back around.

“Sounds like a Francis thing to do. To be honest, I did think I saw him last night.”

“What?!” Arthur’s eyebrows immediately fell into a default scowl, searching Alfred’s eyes for signs that he was lying. If Francis really had been there at the Vargas restaurant, then he knew for certain that everything Arthur had told him downstairs was a lie. Was he waiting for Arthur to come clean and tell him the truth personally?

“Hey, it was for a brief second! I just saw a flash of blond hair from behind a plant – it could have been anyone! Wait - where are you going?”

Before Alfred could even finish his sentence, Arthur was out the door. It took him a record amount of time to bypass the elevator, race down the stairs and hunt down Francis. Arthur had known him for long enough. He knew his games – he knew their games. On many occasions in their youth Arthur had been the one undercover, hiding behind the plant and spying on Francis to ensure his date was going well.

Sure enough, Francis was in his office. He was sat casually at his desk, a light glow cast across his features from the computer screen in front of him. Sat prominently on his desk was the same obnoxious cup from earlier. He seemed startled by Arthur’s sudden intrusion, locking his computer quickly.

Arthur said nothing, watching Francis squirm under his gaze as the office door clicked locked behind him.

“YOU SNEAKY, RUMOUR STARTING, NOSY TWAT!”

#Hetalia #APH #usuk #Fanfiction #APH Fanfiction #My Writing #APH America #APH England #APH France #Alfred F Jones #Arthur Kirkland #I hope yall enjoy reading it #am i nervous about this yes yes i am

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anamariamauricia · 3 years

Text

Another excerpt from my post S3 Annamis fic:

Once more chocolate had been brought, Anne held her cup in her hands and waited for her next guest to make her appearance, ruminating the whole while on how Milady de Winter had gone from being a threat to someone she considered a friend. Not a close friend, not yet at least, but after all she'd done for Anne and her family, after all the nights spent with her and Aramis playing cards or simply talking whilst perpetuating their ruse of Milady and Aramis' relationship, she certainly considered the woman to be more than someone who merely worked for her.

"I was just with Porthos' wife and daughter," she explained once Milady had arrived. "I hope you don't mind using her cup."

"Just so long as it was the wife's and not the baby's," Milady replied dryly as she took off her cloak.

"Oh, give me your hand," Anne quickly instructed, grabbing Milady's hand and pressing it to her belly where the baby was kicking. "Can you feel that?"

Milady's knitted eyebrows sprang up as she blinked down at their hands. "What a strange sensation."

"Strange and sometimes uncomfortable, but always wonderful." Squeezing Milady's hand, she let go so the woman could sit down in the chair next to her in front of the fireplace. "Aramis was able to feel it only recently. I nearly had to pry his hands off this morning, he was so reluctant to leave."

"And where has our esteemed First Minister gone off to?"

"Athos and Sylvie welcomed a baby boy a couple weeks ago. Aramis, Constance, and d'Artagnan went to see them."

Something flickered on Milady's face as she stared at her. "Athos has a son?"

"Yes, they're calling him Raoul," Anne informed her. "I wonder if it is a family name."

"His uncle," Milady answered to her surprise. "He left him his sword in his will," she added in a distant voice, her gaze having fallen to the floor.

"Oh," said Anne. "I don't think Aramis knew that."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Milady replied in her normal voice. "Athos likes to pretend that his life before the musketeers doesn't exist, that he just sprung out of Tréville's head, fully-grown and armed, like Athena."

Anne chuckled at the image. "And how is it that you know of his past?"

Milady's green eyes were piercing when they met hers. "Because I was a part of it."

MMMMMMMMMM

"How were things here?" Aramis asked brightly after telling her all about his trip.

"Oh, terribly boring with you being gone," Anne answered.

"Not even any interesting gossip from Milady?"

She swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "She told me, about her and Athos, that they once lived as husband and wife," she said, and watched his gaze fall.

He nodded, and shifted in his seat. "Porthos and I knew that he'd joined the Musketeers because the woman he loved had died. That was all he ever let on until the Cardinal's attempt on your life. After that he had to reveal who she was, that she had survived the hanging."

Anne shuddered as she thought of the marks the rope had left on Milady's neck. Even now she could feel Rochefort's cold garrote against her own neck, and had to resist the urge to raise her hand and brush her fingers along its ghostly imprint.

"I didn't want to believe her," she admitted, "that Athos would have condemned his own wife to death so easily." It was something Louis had done to her, and she would have never thought Athos to have had such a thing in common with her late husband.

"If there's one thing I do know about that whole ordeal, it's that his decision was anything but easy. It haunted him in the years that followed; it still haunts him, I'm sure. But he thought he was doing right by the law."

"And she was defending herself from a man who tried to force her," she lightly countered.

"Thomas was his brother, and she had lied to Athos from the beginning about who she was and where she came from. In an unbelievable situation, her lying about what had happened made the most sense to him."

She mulled over Aramis' words. She hadn't known Thomas, and she did know Milady to be a liar and a seductress, but she also knew what it was like when a man you trusted turned on you, and the lengths he would go to have you. "If I had killed Rochefort instead of injuring him, should the King have condemned me as a murderess?"

Aramis recoiled. "Of course not. You-"

"Lied to Rochefort about what I did with the crucifix he had given me," she pressed. "About my relationship with you."

Deflating somewhat as he exhaled, Aramis set his drink down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Ana, you did what you had to do to protect yourself and your loved ones, and I believe Milady did the same. I don't think what Athos did was right, and he has to live with the decisions he made for the rest of his life. You and I both know though, that Athos is not the same man that even we once knew."

"No," she agreed. "He definitely is not. And she's changed too."

Aramis leaned back into his chair with a sigh. "If only she had told him the truth about who she was before they married, or even soon after; I'm sure he would have forgiven her, and then he would have been more likely to believe her about Thomas. The confrontation between her and Thomas might not have even happened then."

Anne thought of her decision to make Louis believe that he was the father of her son. She had a choice to come clean to him about what happened at the convent and then ask him to still proclaim Aramis' child as his own, but she was scared. Scared that he did not love her enough to forgive such a transgression, and scared that he would not accept her child. She shook her head. "She was scared. She didn't want to risk losing the love that she had."

Read the rest of the chapter: ao3 / ff.net

Start from the beginning: ao3 / ff.net

#the musketeers #milady de winter #anne of austria #aramis #anne and aramis #mkstrs fanfic #i just love the annes #such an interesting pair #love them working together and this journey i've put them on if i may say so myself #also unintentionally turned milady into a greek mythology nerd #love that for her #*seagull voice* mine

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (11)

In Which The Metaphorical Crap Hits The Metaphorical Fan

Who authorized this angst in my crack fic?

Ao3 | FF.net

BWAAAAAAAA

BWA-BWAHHHHH

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Where did you get a harmonica?” Adrien whispered.

BWAAAAAAAA

BWA-BWA-WAAAHHHHHH

“Wish I was back in Texas.

The ocean's no place for a squirrel.

Wish I was in Texas,

Prettiest place in the world, oh no.”

“Are you going to answer my question? Or are you going to continue to serenade your cellmates?”

“I guess deep in my heart,

I'll always be a Texas girl.”

“We’re in jail, you know. Maybe that’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me!”

“I wanna go hoooooome, home.”

Adrien scoffed and sunk into the pocket, sulking. Of course, since he was in a Kwami’s body, he was not in jail. He could leave at any time. In fact, he wanted to. Desperately. Jail, cells, bars, they were all part of his greatest nightmare.

But he stayed with Plagg.

They hadn’t been given a reason for arrest. Just, slapped with cuffs and hulled out of the Lahiffe household.

Plagg went quietly. Asking no questions and offering no protests. It was like he knew what was to come.

Adrien couldn’t fathom the speed at which things happened.

And where the hell did Plagg get that harmonica?

BWAAHHHHHH

“Alright alright, Mr. Agreste. Enough with the music. Give it here!” An officer approached the bars, hand outstretched.

“Are you going to tell me what I’m in here for?”

The officer huffed. “We were asked to scare you straight. Your father said you were traveling a road of self-destruction, and thought a night in jail would help clear your mind.”

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped back, and continued to play his harmonica.

BWAAAAAAAA

“Hey, I said hand over the harmonica!”

“If you want it, you have to come get it.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to, kid. Just make this easy and hand it over.”

“Do you often arrest kids for no reason?” Plagg asked instead.

The policeman crossed his arms. Plagg could read his nameplate, which said Daryl. “I’m not sure what ‘no reason’ is to you...but your father sure gave me an earful of what you’ve been up to. I have a nephew your age. If he was doing the crap you were, I’d hall his ass in here too to straighten him out.”

“And what, pray tell, did my father say I was doing?”

“Drugs. For one thing. Running around with some local gangs. Theft. Getting violent. Playing hooky.”

Plagg groaned. “Man, I hate to say it, but you got played. Sure, if I was doing all that, I wouldn’t blame my father for asking you to scare me straight. But that’s not what happened. Look at me. Do you think I would jeopardize these good looks for some drugs or fights?”

Officer Daryl pulled a stool over and took a seat.

“Alright, let’s hear your side of the story, then.”

“First of all, I should have called you guys on him. He’s a tyrant! He’s the most self-centered, emotionally constipated, jerk-hole in Paris. And we’re French! That’s saying a lot!”

“Does he physically harm you?” Daryl asked with concern.

“Well...no. I wouldn’t put it past him, but not yet, at least.”

“Does he provide a clean, safe environment for you?”

“Almost too safe...” Plagg muttered.

“Does he withhold necessities? Such as food, shower, or a bed?”

“No, he cuts me off socially though. And he neglects my emotional needs. He thinks that because I’m fed and clothed, that’s all I need.”

“I get it,” the man sighed. “Really, I do. It sucks to have a parent that seems like they don’t care. But I’ve seen mothers smoke crack in front of their malnourished, filthy babies. I arrested a pimp beating up a prostitute in front of her toddler. Your father might not be the best, but he’s far from the worst. And that is not something we can really help with.”

Plagg took this into consideration and nodded. Police couldn’t really arrest someone for being a sourpuss, right?

“However, when he comes to pick you up in the morning, we can recommend him to get you both in family therapy. That might be the avenue to take.” He smirked. “So if it wasn’t drugs, what did you do to make your father so upset?”

“My father is Gabriel Agreste, fashion police. And I wore this out,” he gestured to the kilt he still wore. “Among other hideous outfits, just to get his attention.”

The man looked extremely disturbed by this. “You’re serious? That’s it?”

“I mean, I also ran away from home...”

“Ah, now that is a little bit more of a problem. You’re what, 14?”

“15.”

“A minor. Your father does have guardianship over you. This would be grounds for us to bring you home...but I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

“So you’ll let me go?”

“I could, but then you could be lying about all this.”

“What do I have to do to prove I’m not lying? Blood test?”

“Now hold on, kid. As long as you behave tonight, we’ll put in a good word for you tomorrow. And like I said, we’ll talk to your father about family counseling...and we’ll have a word with him about misusing resources.”

This was not good enough to Plagg. Because Gabriel was still winning. Slap on the wrist or not, having Adrien spend the night in jail would be seen as a victory in Gabriel’s eyes. Adrien was under control again.

And that would just not do.

“You have my word, Daryl, I’ll behave.” He smiled.

“Glad to hear it. You can hold onto the harmonica, just keep it down.” Daryl scooted the stool back to where he had grabbed it, and walked back from where he came.

Once the coast was clear, Plagg let Adrien out of his jacket.

“Okay, phase into the lock and get me out.”

“What!” Adrien shrieked. “No no no! I’m not busting your butt out of jail! That’s illegal!”

“So are most of the things I do, but that doesn’t stop me.”

“You said that there wasn’t a lock in this world that could hold you. I will not be your keyblade.”

“What?”

“It’s a video game reference.”

“Nerd.” Plagg nabbed him out of the air and pulled on his tail.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Sit still!” He yanked and twisted and scrunched his tail until it was a crooked pin shape, then he stuck it in the lock, fiddled with it, before the door slid open.

“Geez, next time I’ll just phase through the lock.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Plagg tucked Adrien back into his jacket and closed the cell door behind him.

“So how are we going to get out? You can’t just walk out the front door.”

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “Or can I?”

“It won’t work.”

“Try me, bitch.” And Plagg walked with deliberate steps towards the front doors, where they had been escorted in.

Daryl, of course, spotted him. “Ah! Agreste! I don’t know how the hell you got out—“

Plagg raised a hand, two fingers together with the thumb out to the side. Then he stated sharply. “Eck thoos yul hikteem!”

Daryl stopped, blinked once, twice, then said, “oh, Adrien, you’re right. Your father really did do us both a disservice. Come on, I’ll escort you up front. Do you need a ride back to your friend’s house?”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t supposed to be that easy!

“No thanks, officer. I think I’ll walk.”

“Okay kiddo. Let us know if your old man gives you any more problems, okay?”

“Haha, will do!”

Once outside, with the doors firmly closed behind them, Adrien emerged. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That—that spell! Have you always been able to do that?! Do you use it on me?!”

“Simmer down, buddy.” Plagg patted him on the head. “It was just a...very specific destruction spell.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s temporary, really. Nothing to worry about. Back in the old days, people might realize I used the spell on them, but with him...he might just have some doubts about his decision to let me out.”

“Okay, but what did you do?!”

“Just a little spell that changed his resolve. Earlier, I convinced him to let me go, but that little barrier of…justice, or honor, or whatever kept him from following through. So I just…removed it.”

“You just…removed it?”

“Yep!”

“How often do you use that?”

“Never, if I can help it. Notice I usually just annoy people to get my way. And using spells with the three conditions is completely counterproductive, by the way. Magic is a tool, not a shortcut.

“So you can’t use that spell to get my dad to drop whatever wall he has between us?”

“No, because it’s effects are temporary, and we have to convince him to ease up on his own. You see?”

“I think so…so what now?”

Plagg smiled.

—

11:30 pm. The evening bowel movement. Ever since he turned thirty, Gabriel was able to predict and prepare for the movement. But he liked it that way. Everything should be planned out and under control. Something so animalistic as defecating would not interrupt his day.

Now finished with his business, he came back down and headed to his Atelier, to prepare notes for the company tomorrow morning.

He walked in, and noticed the lights were off. Odd. Had he shut them off by accident when he left for the bathroom? Had Nathalie shut them off?

He flicked the light on, and the big plush red desk chair behind his desk swung around slowly.

“Well, well, well…If it isn’t the parent of the year.”

Gabriel just gaped in shock. “You-you…how did you get here?! I just talked to—an hour ago! The police! You were in jail!”

“My my, Gabriel. I have never seen you so flustered before.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Are you ready to call it quits yet? Or are you going to call the police on me again? What little lie will you tell this time? That I was trespassing? After I ran away from home?”

“Now Adrien, this was for your own good!”

“I think we both know this has far passed my own well being, old man.”

Gabriel just continued to stare at him, and Plagg wondered when the anger would burst out. Gabriel was never a level-headed man. So to see him so shocked, almost afraid, was concerning.

Actually no, it was delightful.

“You’re obsessed with control. To the point where I look like a cardboard cutout to you, instead of your son. Your son who is a human, with wants and needs and the capacity to make mistakes. But I can love. God, I can love, Gabriel. I want to love you. And my mind tells me I have to, because you’re my father. But your actions, your coldness, your control? That tells me that my love is being wasted. I might as well love my rock wall. It gives me the same amount of affection that you do.”

Gabriel looked away, brow furrowed in thought. He still didn’t look angry, just confused and unsettled. “I really can’t...” he muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry, what was that? You really can’t what? Control me? Is that what you were going to say?”

“In a way...” Gabriel breathed. “Or ‘get you under control’, more specifically. But that’s the same thing, right? I want you to behave...but my way. And...you don’t want to.”

“And that bugs you. Because all your employees do as you ask. But I’m not an employee. I think you forgot that.”

“You escaped jail.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“Yes. Sorry, you’re right. I’m just...how? I talked to them, they said they were going to hold you until morning.”

“I told you. There’s not a lock on earth that can hold me.”

Gabriel collapsed into a chair, pushing his fingers through his hair and mussing it up. “Alright. I’m cornered. What do you want?”

“A dad.”

Gabriel frowned. Like the phrase was utter nonsense to him.

Plagg stood and came closer, and when he spoke, his tone was much softer than it had been. “What’s going on? Why do you always push me away?”

Gabriel tapped his thumbs together, clearly thinking.

“I mean,” Plagg continued. “I’m no psychiatrist. If you’d rather us get therapy together, I would be down for that.”

“Do you trust me?” Gabriel asked instead.

“I’d like to,” Plagg shrugged. “But you haven’t trusted me enough to trust you back.”

Gabriel stood. “Then I think it’s about time I let you in on what’s really been happening. It’s...it’s complicated. And I don’t expect you to understand right away. I should have told you sooner, but...I didn’t know how.” He walked over to the painting of Emilie in the style of Klimt. Then he beckoned Plagg closer.

Plagg stood at his side, and looked at the painting with Gabriel.

He expected some long winded monologue about love, and soulmates and how much losing a partner can hurt. He expected excuses and blame and guilt.

He didn’t expect for the floor to move.

Down.

Adrien dared to peek out of the jacket, just to take a glance.

They reached the bottom. A garden at the end of a bridge.

Plagg was on edge, but didn’t speak. He just followed Gabriel down the bridge. Up to a tube.

No, a casket.

With Adrien’s mother inside.

Wow.

So...this was a lot more than he was prepared for. And Gabriel certainly was not a normal, predictable human.

Gabriel 1. Plagg 0.

Actually, right now it was more like Gabriel 1, Plagg 89. But who was counting?

“I...that’s...” the shock was genuine. Adrien never knew what happened to his mom. And the whole time, she was in the basement?

“She’s in a coma, and can’t wake up. It’s an effect of using the broken peacock miraculous.”

Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit. This was bad. Really really terribly awfully bad. Edge of a knife, balancing on a thread kind of bad.

“It is my hope that by obtaining the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, I can join them and wish for her to be healed and wake up.”

Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it, Gabe!

“I’ve been trying to do so with the use of the Butterfly Miraculous, as Hawkmoth.”

Goddamn son of bitch!

It occurred to Plagg that Adrien would probably not be taking this news quite as calmly as he was. Adrien would be screaming and crying, and begging his father not to do this. But Plagg just stood there, staring at Mrs. Agreste. It was shocking, and heartbreaking, but for Plagg, it was more frustrating and annoying.

How was he supposed to repair this relationship now? Gabriel certainly didn’t seem remorseful.

“And now that I’ve told you this…I’d like you to join me. I need your help, Adrien, to bring back your mother.”

And that was the final nail in the coffin.

“Won’t you say something, son?”

What was there to say? ‘No’? ’Screw you old man’? No…he had to find some way to repair this.

“How did you find out about the wish?” Plagg asked.

Gabriel opened his lapel, and his kwami emerged. “This is Nooroo, he allows me to transform into Hawkmoth.”

Plagg turned his slitted eyes onto his estranged brother, only to receive a wide-eyed gasp. Nooroo knew, but continued to stay silent and wait.

“He told me about the wish. He said it was the only way to save her.”

“The only way he knew of.” Plagg corrected.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him. “What—?”

Plagg sighed. “The ultimate wish would, potentially, work, however, balance must always be maintained. If you want to wake her up, someone else would have to take her place. Someone you love. Someone like Adrien.”

Gabriel took a step back. “Who are you?”

“Ah, finally figured it out, hmm Gabe?”

Gabriel went pale. “Jesus Christ…I asked who you are! Where’s my son?!”

“He’s near. And he’s safe. It took you two weeks to notice that I wasn’t Adrien. Nino and Marinette figured it out way sooner. This possibly could have gone on forever if I hadn’t given myself away.”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Gabriel shouted, actually scared.

Plagg smirked. “Name’s Plagg. The Black Cat Kwami. At your service.”

“You…how? Why?”

“The more important question is, do you want to save your family?”

Gabriel gaped at him, so many questions going through his mind.

“Keep in mind, the ultimate wish is half of my power. I know how it works. And I think I have an idea to save Emilie without sacrificing Adrien.”

“Let me see him,” Gabriel begged, his voice full of gravel. “Let me see my son!”

Plagg took Adrien out of his jacket and held him up in his hand.

Poor Adrien was bawling. He covered his face with his paws to keep from making noise.

“Adrien…”

“How could you…you know I missed her so much…She was right here the whole time?” He sobbed. “And…and Hawkmoth…you’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“Now son…”

“No! Shut up!” He wailed. “I agreed to this stupid body swap with Plagg because he promised that he’d get you to love me again…but I don’t know if I could love you. You’re a monster.”

Gabriel stared, mouth open, fighting for words, willing to protest, but he had nothing.

Plagg drew Adrien up to his face, holding him close to his cheek. “I’ve got you, buddy. It’s alright.”

The Butterfly Miraculous burned on his chest, boiling with the despair from his son. Normally, Gabriel would want to capitalize on it…but now, he just wanted to make it go away.

“What do I need to do to fix this?” He asked.

“Well, for starters, hand over your Miraculous. And the Peacock, while you’re at it.”

Adrien watched in amazement as Gabriel willingly handed over both brooches.

“Okay,” Plagg stated with an exhale, he deposited Adrien’s tiny form into Gabriel’s hand. “Here, talk with your son. Listen to what he has to say. I’m going to take these somewhere safe. And talk to my sources about helping Emilie.”

Gabriel clenched his eyes shut, like he was trying not to cry. “Had I known saving her would have been this easy, I would have asked for help. I don’t know how but...I would have.”

Adrien didn’t hold back the snark from his voice as he said, “Anything would have been better than terrorizing the entirety of Paris. What will mom think?”

This made Gabriel moan in pain. He hadn’t even considered it.

“How do I get out of here?” Plagg interrupted.

“Oh uh…the elevator. There’s a button with an up arrow.”

“Okay, I’ll be back Adrien.” Plagg took quick steps from the room.

He knew they had to talk. Nothing would be fixed without them having honest communication, but it felt wrong to leave Adrien behind like that.

Worst case scenario, Adrien could always cataclysm his father. It might permanently get them stuck until Adrien’s body perishes, but…

He left the mansion, making a beeline for Marinette’s house. The bakery was closed, and the lights were off, but Marinette’s lights were still on.

Thankfully, he had his phone.

“Hello?” Marinette’s cheerful chirp came from the other side.

“Hey Marinette, I’m outside.”

“What? Where?”

“Not on the balcony, at the front door. I have a present for you.”

The phone hung up, and he saw a light turn on in the stairwell. Then Marinette stumbled down the stairs and opened the door. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Why didn’t you transform?”

“Couldn’t. Here,” and he took her hand and slapped the brooches in it.

“I...are these...? Is this a joke?”

“Nope. Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and he handed these over to me himself.”

“Gabriel is...?” She clutched her heart. “Adrien...where’s Adrien?”

“Currently having a heart to heart with his dad.”

“Yeah, but...isn’t one of the conditions to repair their relationship?”

“Yep.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “And he was really Hawkmoth?”

“He was trying to get the miraculous to bring his wife back. She’s in a coma in their basement.”

“Oh my god...”

“You said it, sister.”

“Is he okay? Should I go over there?”

“He’s upset. Obviously. I was hoping Ladybug and the horse miraculous would make an appearance over there. We can take Emilie to the Guardian temple in Tibet. They certainly have a way to wake her up.”

“Are you sure? Or are you just hoping?”

“I’m sure. Not the first time a miraculous has broken and hurt someone.”

“Should I bring the peacock too, then?”

“Maybe keep it in your compact, just in case.”

Just then, a chirp came from the ring.

“Uh, well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

“What?”

“A condition was just met.”

Marinette grabbed his hand and stared at the ring. “What?! How?!”

He shrugged.

“Lila must have died.”

Plagg laughed. “You think that’s more likely?”

“I’ve seen how stubborn Mr. Agreste can be. There’s no way they’ve reconciled. What was the wording of the condition, exactly?”

Plagg smirked. “Conveniently, we didn’t have specific wording. The three conditions are ‘return unrequited crush from Ladybug—“

“Which was already requited, so it shouldn’t have even counted.”

“‘Get rid of Lila permanently,’ and ‘fix the relationship with father’. If you have a leaky pipe, you can replace the whole thing, or you could just throw some duct tape on it. Both would be considered fixes. Maybe they found their duct tape for now.”

“Perhaps. But I’m not going to stop worrying until I see him myself. Let me pop these in the Miracle Box, and I’ll meet you down in a minute.”

—

Ladybug returned to the mansion with Plagg. He escorted her in, passed the office, down the hidden elevator, and into the garden where he had left Gabriel and Adrien.

When the door opened, there was laughter. Not manically laughter, like one might think of in a villain's lair, but laughter like someone told a really good joke.

“And then I said, ‘Napoleon may not have designed his coat, but he had a hand in it!’” More laughter.

Puns.

They were bonding over effing puns.

“Adrien?” Ladybug called out carefully, in case he had lost his mind.

“My lady!” He chirped, and zipped over to her, nuzzling her cheek.

Ladybug squeezed him carefully in her hands and kissed his little head. “Are you okay? Plagg told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Sunshine.”

He gave her a little smile, a purr rumbling in his chest. “I’m okay, my lady. Or I will be. My dad apologized, and we talked and...well, put a bandaid on a bullet wound. But it’s a start.”

“Ladybug?” Gabriel asked softly. “Would you...help my wife?”

She stepped closer to the coffin, finally seeing Emilie in her coma. She looked like a living doll. Was she even breathing?

“Plagg says the Guardians in Tibet can help. But I would like my Kwami to take a look first, just to make sure. Are you going to behave?”

“All I want is my wife back. If your miraculous is the bad way to do it, then I don’t want it. I almost lost Adrien. I don’t want that to happen.”

It was a good answer. “Spots off.”

Gabriel gasped when he saw her, and then chuckled. “Of course it would be you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You know, I tried to akumatize you several times.”

“Yeah, I remember.” She glared at him.

“I thought you would be a perfect akuma. You’re incredibly creative, resourceful, strong-willed, and have a strong sense of justice. I knew that if I could get you, I’d definitely win.”

She shrugged. “I guess I will take that as a compliment...”

Tikki flitted over to the casket, followed by Plagg. They observed, and conversed.

“Do you think it will work?” Asked Adrien.

“Plagg certainly seemed to think so.” She scratched the back of his head. “You know, your ring went off while Plagg was briefing me. Seems you met another condition.”

Adrien looked at her with wide eyes. “You serious?”

“Seems like your bandaid did just enough. Or Lila died.”

“Lila? Lila Rossi? What does she have to do with this?” Asked Gabriel.

So they told him the whole story. About how Adrien had lamented to Plagg about his problems, and how Plagg had tricked him. They laid out the conditions and explained that only one remained.

Getting Lila to leave him alone.

“Well, for one thing, I can fire her.” Gabriel said simply. “I have no need for a compulsive liar in my employment.”

Adrien hugged his father’s neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Of course, I could also set up a restraining order, if you’d like.”

“That would make things...maybe even more difficult. She would take it as a challenge.”

“I thought as much. Well, if Emilie is truly going to Tibet, I will go with. And while we’re gone, we’ll think of ways to help with Lila. If you haven’t solved it already. I should probably leave an email for Nathalie so she knows what’s happened.”

“Did she know?”

“Mayura.”

“Ah, right.”

“Oh crap!” Adrien suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Nino still thinks I’m in jail!”

#ml #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrien agreste #adrien and plagg #plagg #I'll handle this #fanfiction #identity reveal

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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Thunderfam Appreciation Post

I’m giving this a new post to prevent scroll city, but the original and several reblogs can be found by clicking the above link. Also, it’s an excuse to post a piccy of Virg cos any excuse, really :D

Many thanks to @willow-salix for writing this question list :D

Before I start, I just want to say that I value every member of this fandom. I’m often hopeless at communicating in group settings so I don’t speak to many peeps, but that is my failing, not anyone else’s. You are an amazing group and you have supported me and each other just brilliantly over the last nearly three years that I have been hanging with you guys. Thank you ever so much for all your wonderful support and encouragement. I’ve had so much fun and created so much stuff…you guys are amazing. Thunderfam rock!

Please note that my memory is pathetic and I will fail to mention everyone. Please do not take any offence if you aren’t listed below. That does not mean I don’t value you, I do, it just means I have swiss cheese between my ears.

-o-o-o-

Your favourite writer of your favourite boy.

@i-am-chidorixblossom You are a whumper and comforter after my soul. You speak the Virg :D @vegetacide I adore your turn of phrase and your description is to die for.

The person who's stories you will always read.

I try to read most fics that come across my dash, but there are a few that have me jumping up and down. @i-am-chidorixblossom , @vegetacide , @tsarinatorment , @scribbles97 , @the-lady-razorsharp , @janetm74 Of course, I regularly fail at this as some of you write a huge amount of fic and I am often playing catch up, but fic!

Who wrote the first fic you read in this fandom.

I landed on FF.net back in May 2018. I immediately ran into @the-lady-razorsharp who I knew from another fandom ten years prior and she was absolutely wonderful, drawing me in and introducing me around. I gobbled up several of her fics in the process.

Person you can talk to for the longest without a break.

I am hard to get started, persistence is required, but once started, it is usually hard to shut me up. @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment have all discovered that. Dangle a Virg, a plotline and stand back.

Person you can't be trusted to be left alone with.

Um, @vegetacide and I have plotted out the entirety of Warm Rain together…poor Virg. Add @the-lady-razorsharp into the equation and Virgil ends up with a beard, dressed in leather and riding a Harley – that was a hilarious evening. Between @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 Virgil gets grey hairs and has to go rescue Scott – because Scott inevitably ends up in the story :D @scribbles97 gets the blame for Gentle Rain – expand your horizons she said ::headdesk:: But then there was the time I left one random line about Eos visiting Virgil in the shower and went to bed. I woke up to hilarity and chaos as Thunderfam took the idea and ran with it! Love you guys :D

Person whose fic made you cry the most.

I know there were at least two fics that made me cry, but for the life of me I can’t identify them. I did cry writing my own fic – Flannel – and don’t tend to reread it for that reason. Purupuss traumatised me with A Quiet Day to the point I had to put it down and walk away for a bit ::wails::

Person whose fic made you laugh the most.

I have no idea. I know there are fic out there and I know I’ve read it, but without a complete list of everything I’ve read, I don’t have a clue.

Person whose fic made you think the most.

Aaaargh, I don’t have a master list so can’t remember everything. Staring at my paltry favourites list on FF.net (which was mostly gathered three years ago and never maintained), Purupuss’ ‘Brothers in Arms’ and her whole Quiet series has me wanting to write a Scott-Virgil telepathic fic (and she has given me permission to run with the idea, I just haven’t actioned it yet). Counterpoint by Swallow and Amazon is amazing and likely contributed to Sotto Voce.

Person you have laughed with the most.

I’m really not liking this ultimate one person idea. I’ve laughed with a lot of people in this fandom. I’ve candy cannoned a bunch of you as well :P There has been mad plot cackling, evil conspiring, fic written to stir pots and delight on purpose. Hell, I’ve even written fic that was purposefully a giant virtual hug because I’m so far away that even if half the world wasn’t in isolation, I couldn’t hug most of you. Sure, I talk with some of you more than others, and there is laughter in those chats…oh, god, so much cackling, poor, poor Tracy boys. But then there are also so many smiles both vocalised and not. Thunderfam is one of my happy places. Bring on the belly laughs :D

Your comfort fic that you'll go back and read again on a bad day.

I will often resort to my own fic when I’m really down simply because it helps me get to sleep :D and it is kinda tailored to me ::grins:: (and my memory is that bad I often forget what I wrote anyway – yes, it is that bad) But there are also a few on my FF.net favourites list. Mostly hurt/comfort in a Virg flavour. Cheesycheese, nhsweetcherry, A Small Rescue by Nalina, Breathe Easy and Under the Weather by @loopstagirl – several of hers, in fact – the Virg ones :D Pretty much anything that has Virg fainting and being looked after apparently :D Chiddi and Veggie fic, of course.

Favourite piece of fan art.

I have never been so honoured by artists before. This fandom has some amazing skills and I have been gifted some beautiful works. You guys are amazing (I keep saying it like a broken record, but you are).

Again, I’m stuck on having to list one and I can’t. I think Fanart Appreciation Month in January pretty much summed up my opinion.

Who have you known the longest in the fandom.

@the-lady-razorsharp followed by @vegetacide both wonderful peeps. I can’t miss out on @weirdburketeer either for her amazing support almost from day one.

Favourite OC.

I have to say that I really enjoy reading about Ray from @i-am-chidorixblossom ‘s fics :D He is so gentle and kind and just ::sigh:: Virg likes him lots :D Selene by @willow-salix is, of course, a major presence in the fandom and amazingly written. @hedwigstalons ‘ Claire is lovely.

Person who supports your work the most.

The Thunderfam? There have been some wonderful people who support all the time. @hedwigstalons @cg29 @janetm74 @weirdburketeer in particular have been amazing support liking and commenting on just about everything I write. I honestly don’t know how they do it. Plus several peeps over on FF.net and Ao3 who support me over there.

And then there are the poor souls who put up with me in chat and listen to my wibblies and whining and character checks and field random chunks of writing that get thrown their way. @scribbles97 @vegetacide @the-lady-razorsharp @tsarinatorment @i-am-chidorixblossom @onereyofstarlight @godsliltippy @willow-salix @janetm74 all have had random passages thrown at them at all times of the day and night by a crazy me begging for feedback. Does this work? Is this in character? Am I insane? What the hell is Scott doing? Is this John??? I give up, tell me what to do? Virgil is driving me insane! So, um, yeah

Person who's progress you are the most proud of.

I love those peeps who appear in fandom who start off poking around commenting and generally being lovely and then all of a sudden get out their own pens and start writing and they are frickin’ amazing! Both @janetm74 and @hedwigstalons come to mind in this department. Like holy cow – ‘here is my first fic and I’m not sure’ ::reads it:: Omigod! Where did you come from? That was amazing. Sit down here now, keep doing that writing thing, bloody hell! I think being brave enough to pick up a pen and join in is a major thing :D

Person who's story you think is underrated and should be read by more people.

If I find fic I like, I reblog it and shout about it. What I like is definitely skewed in a Virgil direction and this dictates often what I’m going to read first. I can’t reblog what I haven’t read. So, this equation will always be skewed by ‘reasons I haven’t read a fic’ which mostly involves either Virgil or the fact I’m juggling RL. So, my answer to this is if I think a fic needs to be shouted about, I shout about it.

Something you think people would say about you.

She’s nutty.

Silliest 'thing' you do with someone.

I’ve been known to write fic on the fly directly into chat windows to try and distract peeps going through shitty times.

Favourite pairing you now Stan because of someone's fic.

Virgil/Kayo because of @vegetacide for reasons I have blamed her for multiple times. @the-lady-razorsharp and @weirdburketeer were accessories to the fact.

Favourite headcanon from someone's fic.

Um, Virgil and coffee? I got that from somewhere and it has infiltrated my fic…a lot.

Ultimately, though, I feel most people I interact with contribute to my fic and how I’m feeling. This has been a wonderful experience. I try to return the support as much as I can, but sometimes it is a juggle between writing more, my stupid fluctuating mood, the demands of RL and my own creative drive. I hope I’ve helped a few peeps, because you guys have certainly helped me ::major group hug::

And yes, I hug a lot, because to be honest, I have no other descriptor to communicate how I feel, so you get buckets of hugs :D

Tagging the Thunderfam. Feel free to grab these questions and run with them. You’re all part of the gang whether you write, read, art, gif, screenshot, chat, babble, stare at Virgil all day...I know I do a lot of staring.

Nutty

(Thunderfam rocks!)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #thunderfam rock

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anakinthetrashking · 4 years

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BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt2)

I AM HERE! With more recs for you! The last post was all about DadMight, such a beautiful genre *wipes tear from eye* This time its DADZAWA! if you happen to follow me, you might know that i really really(really) love Aizawa. a lot. So im going to try to keep this to only 10 recs, but,, well,,,, we’ll see anyway leTS GO

Aches and Pains by Badwolf36 Rating: G Category: Gen ~2700 words Summary: In which Izuku isn't willing to admit how much pain he's in, and Mr. Aizawa is just as much of a softie for his students as he always is. I’m always SO WEAK to stories that deal with the very real consequences of breaking all of your bones. Poor Izuku. I enjoyed the details of how he’s feeling, the way that the reader’s awareness of his pain waxes and wanes along with Izuku’s (temporary distractions can only do so much, A+ for realism there). Also, soft Dadzawa while not mushy-ooc-Aizawa! Conclusion: I love this and also want Aizawa to make me hot cocoa when there’s storms and i cant sleep!! (sidenote, everytime i see this username my brain shorts out bc my old ff.net account was also Badwolf## lol)

My Neighbor Shouta-ro by Hound_of_Heaven Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,700 words Summary: Yamada Hizashi, on Christmas Eve of the year he turns 19, jokingly presents Aizawa Shouta, also 19, with a Totoro kigurumi. Everything that follows after is pure chance. Heeeeeeeeeck this is ADORABLE. I- You guys- this is so pure and so precious and so!! go read it, i died. such fluff.

constrained by my own mind (im not fine) by CamsthiSky (tumblr: @camsthisky ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~1,500 words Summary: Midoriya Izuku is a problem child, and for some reason, Aizawa Shouta cares too much to let him fend for himself when the kid is obviously dealing with something First of all this is written by one of my fav Batfam writers!!! I was so hype when i saw this posted and OF COURSE IT WAS JUST AS WONDERFUL IF NOT MORE SO THAN I EXPECTED!!!! A+++++ in character for both Izuku and Aizawa. Izuku is jumpy and anxious and stressed and i love it. That the way Izuku started out, and while i am eternally happy at how much his life and social reactions have already changed, stuff like that doesnt just disappear in even a year, so I love fics that address that and expound on all the progress that he would have to make behind the scenes. and having Aizawa as the catalyst to begin getting actual help? *chef’s kiss* This checks boxes and then proceeds to cover the page in checkmarks LOL

remember from here on in by aloneintherain (tumblr: @captainkirkk ) Rating: T Category: Gen ~8000 words warning: spoiler heavy from manga chp 215 Summary: Aizawa glances from All Might to Midoriya quickly. It sounds impossible—he’s never heard of a quirk that can be handed down like a family heirloom—but at the same time, it makes perfect sense. Midoriya’s inability to use his quirk at the start of the year. The strange, familial relationship between All Might and Midoriya. The slow malnourishment of All Might’s body, like his power was being siphoned away. “You’re …” Aizawa begins.“I’m All Might’s successor.” Midoriya’s proud but shaky voice rings clearly down the empty corridor. Aizawa finds out about One for All. Awwwwwwww yiiiiiiiissssssssss!!!!! reveal fic!!!! one of my all time fav tropes!!! Plus it expounds on some future theorys/possibilities(Spoilers!!!) and you get some great interactions between Izuku and Shinsou, and plenty of opportunities taken to wear out our already worn out catepillar-sensei. poor guy needs a break but would do anything for these kids. Incredible characterization, great feels!!

Those Hardest to Love Need it Most by DancingintheStorm Rating: T Category: Gen ~8,200 words Summary: Shouta gripped the phone tight enough to make the phone case groan. “So it’s true. Midoriya was Quirkless.”“Until soon before the entrance exam,” Nedzu confirmed. “That’s not relevant now, though, because—““Relevant?” Shouta hissed. “Midoriya is barely functional, socially. He doesn’t trust any adult. He thinks the whole world hates him. He apologizes for everything except breaking the law, and I’m sure I can trace every single one of those things back to his Quirklessness. You call that irrelevant?” Aizawa visits Aldera Junior High and finds out some disturbing truths. Yes. Just. Yes. Righteous anger abounds, local anxiety-child is told for the first time that his life has worth, more at 10 (I LOVE THIS ONEEE)

The Gaunlet and friendships and how memes tie the two together by averypassionateperson Rating: T Category: Gen ~3,500 words Summary: Shinsou walks into his first day in the Hero Course hoping to get politely ignored. He walks out having gotten into a sanctioned fistfight with the entire Bakusquad and a whole lot of new friendships. Also, memes are responsible for most of this. This fic is SOOOOOOOOO much fun. Always sure to bring a smile and honestly all I could want from a fic about Shinsou’s first day in 1A!!!

like light through a window by achievingelysium (tumblr: @queenangst ) Rating: T Category: Gen 1,139 words Summary: The first time Shouta sees what Hagakure looks like, it’s because she’s covered in blood. Coming from one of the best Dadzawa writers around, is a delightfully haunting fic centered on Hagakure!! The Dazawa is of course, spot on, the premise makes your heart ache as it plays out like a movie in your mind. So smooth to read, while so emotionally painful. Ouch. It is a fic with imagery that has stuck in my mind like a plant with deep roots, bc i keep thinking about it despite my too-much-fanfic-reading-adhd-muddled-brain. I feel like i had more to say but tumglr erased the paragraph i had originally written. D: (side note, as i am keeping these posts to 10 fics... this fic came from her series of 30 min fics which you can find here on tumblr ao3 its an absolute goldmine of one-shots, go check it out)

a frozen pond, dark and deep by walking_through_autumn Rating: T Category: Gen ~3,800 words Summary: In the aftermath of Endeavour's battle against High End, Aizawa escorts Todoroki to his home for special leave, and they have a conversation that has been long in the making. (Or: Over two car rides and the mystery known as bubble tea, Aizawa divulges information, Todoroki returns the favour, and trust is built over unexpected similarities.) This fic felt just as quiet as the two characters it surrounds, which was really nice. Even deep emotional grieving can be quiet, since everyone feels things and reacts to things differently. It was a brilliant way to chip away at these character’s walls to let light shine through without creating an earthquake event to destroy the walls completely, you know? and it works off of canon so well. ah yes seeing the process of Aizawa realizing that hes has adopted another child is my fav anyhow i enjoyed it very much!

but still my heart is heavy (with the hate of some other man’s beliefs) by honeyandsunshine Rating: T Category: Gen ~3,500 words Summary: Nemuri jerks a thumb to the side window, presumably the one with the best view of the front gates. When Shouta looks, a small crowd, all of which he can recognize from his class, are gathered around a sleazy looking man with a camera and a microphone. Half their quirks are activated. Bakugou and Todoroki are smoking. From the bushes nearby, a rather enraged stag emerges. As he gets up, Shouta just hopes they haven’t already killed him. Or:Class 1-A defends their own. Aizawa suffers, but looks after them anyways. I love how this doesn’t go the way you expect it to. and how much Aizawa loves and trusts his class full of gremlin heroes. The Dadzawa is so soft, his logic is sound, my heart aches, and i kinda want to cry. really, really, really great you guys

bend, don’t break by heyhamlet (tumblr: @hey-hamlet ) Rating: T Category: Gen ~4,100 words Summary: It started, as it always seemed to, on what was supposed to be a pleasant day. ---A Christmas shopping attempt gone wrong, Aizawa and Midoriya have to survive a strange nightmare quirk, all while trying to work out how to get out of there alive. Aizawa is injured, Midoriya is panicked. It's less a question of what could go wrong, but more what could go right. Another fic that has not left my soul since i read it. Some of it is truly terrifying in a way that I hope never haunts my own nightmares. and honestly isnt that reason enough to read it? While near death experiences bond people together well, nothing beats being trapped with someone in a nightmare that is feeding off of your deepest fears! If Aizawa wasn’t considering adoption before, he certainly is now. Found family before the monster finds you...0.o go read it, its a treat from another top notch writer!

well, thats 10! the next post will probably be misc. bnha one-shots. Enjoy and don’t forget to give the writers your souls love and comments!

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

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content tag game ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

Tagged by the lovely @kithtaehyung i also just realised that i am that awful at tumblr and making sure to sort my tags that i missed an important person who tagged me 😭 @bangtanhome 💕 i am so sorry, i had this in my drafts and i could swear i tagged you but it didn’t since i was not on mobile 😭 i have also been tagged by @secretum-scriptor 💕 (wow tumblr is doing a great job with notifications)

thank you for the tag it’s such a wonderful way to get to know someone and i thoroughly enjoyed reading yours ❤️

I am tagging: @hobipaint @hobiandsprite @missgeniality @mochi-molala @rosietae @pjmsdior @rosereveries @yoonjinkooked @randombtsprincessa (you do not have to do this also! please ignore if so!) there is a message for everyone at the bottom if you wanna jump straight to that.

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

Once Upon A Time, Dr Who, Sherlock, tried my hand at Haikyuu, Naruto, MCR, The Maine, Suits, The GazettE, Gackt, Big Bang, Infinite...ok, i never realised how much stuff i had....this is shocking to me

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

Just BTS

3. how long have you been writing?

Since 2008? On and off so i still consider myself a newbie

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

Used to post on Quizilla, ff.net, asianfanfics now just on Tumblr

5. what is your favourite genre to write?

Fluff, angst with happy end. Anything that ends well, even if the ending is open, it just needs to have a glimmer of hope in there.

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

well, both? i aspire to be a planner, end up being a pantser most of the time. I just let my characters take me where they want to.

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

One shot, multi chaptered (even though i have my Voir Dire series) makes me feel bad when i can’t meet the posting schedule.

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

10k-30k? Depends on a lot of things (that is for one shots though) as a chapter i would say 5k

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

Voir Dire as it is a chaptered fic, stands at 27k at the moment and it is not finished (got a long way to go) but my one shots, the longest is my yoongi hogwarts au one which is 13k (for now-they seem to be getting longer)

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

tough one, i enjoy all of them, each has left their mark on me and helped me grow and experience things, but if i had to pick i would say Voir Dire as it made me do a lot of research plus mafia au has always been something i have wanted to write or sleeposal! It was only a drabble but working on it has been such a fun experience for me!

11. favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?)

there is one coming out soon, it was an arranged marriage au yoongi which was meant to be a drabble, and it ended up a 12k one shot.

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

i had to ask the person who has read the most of my stories about this because i try to not have any reocurring themes if i can help it, i like to diversify depending on the story. and seems like i have succeeded somehow, i think?

13. current number of wips?

mostly collabs for now this monts is quite collab heavy, and some drabble requests but i think the other ones that i have planned equal all those in number so i would have to say in between a lot and a lot

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i have a lot of expressions i use repeatedly throughout my fics (i am trying to get better at that), i have improved on the heaviness of the plots and emotions quite a bit and my grammar (always gotta be careful with that), i also like metaphors...like...a lot

15. a quote you like from a published story.

I was quite proud of this one, it’s a drabble called i wish you knew

‘Life is never simple. Life doesn’t care about the wishes of two young lovers. Life doesn’t stop just because you want to hold his hand forever. Just like the heat of the summer, your fire dwindled to a steady heat. Like the remnants of a bonfire, your flame became hot coals. A summer was not enough to keep your love burning, and the scare of your first fight reduced it to smoke in an instant.’

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

this is hard, because this has been in my drafts for so long, and i do not know if it will ever see the light of the day as it is so close to home that i may chicken out of actually publishing it but: it is meant to be part of my Love Blossom Series, Taehyung’s Story, it would have been entitled White Tulip;

‘You knew that it was soon to be over; the warm smiles, the secret touches, the pads of your fingers brushing against each other. You could feel it in the hugs that would end up with you, a giggling mess swept off your feet, the loving stares, the kisses you would steal from each other during your short break. You knew, behind all that, there was heartbreak lurking, waiting to strike. Your foundation was not strong enough to hold everything up. ‘

17. space for you to say something to your readers.

i never know what to say, which is funny because i write, i should be able to express my feelings easily, yet i can’t say enough thank yous, and i cannot express how much each and every one of you means to me. whether you have commented or not, reblogged or not, followed me or not, or just stumbled upon one of my fics randomly but still stayed and read, it all means the world to me. It makes me so happy to read comments and see what everyone things of my 2am musings, and i feel like even if i have or not interacted with you i’m surrounded by friends who get to see this side of me. thank you and i love you all!

#get to know me #get to know the writer #get to know the blogger #maria things #maria talks #tag game #tag #i love all of my readers and mutuals so much

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just-the-hiddles · 3 years

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Writer’s Spotlight | Wrathkitty

Hello my peeps, today I am featuring that talent and wonder that is @wrathkitty. The person who reintroduced me to my love of Q. If you know, you know. I share her crush on Luke Skywalker as a teenager (for me specifically Return of the Jedi Luke in the black.)

Check out their works here on Ao3 and FF.net

What are other names you want people to call you?

Kat.

How long have you been writing fic?

Since I was in middle school, but I didn't start posting anything online until 2013.

What fandoms and/or ships do you write?

MCU Loki, Star Trek: TNG, Portal, and one random Star Wars fic about Kylo Ren and a passive aggressive barista

How did you get started writing fic?

I had a crush on Luke Skywalker when I was 13. It was total author insert, wish fulfillment Mary Sue tripe. We all have to start somewhere, I guess.

Story Recommendations

Which of your stories are your favorite?

You’ve Got Sucker’s Luck and Hello, My Dear.

Which story are you most proud of ?

Sucker’s Luck

Which of your stories do you think is the most underrated?

Sucker’s Luck. There was a request to insert a laugh-crying emoji. I will grant that request. 😂

Someone is new to read your stories, which story/stories should the read first?

Probably my kid Loki/Thor fic, just because it's funny. (This would be To My Brother Thor, Whom Slept With)

Which story did you do the most research for?

My Portal story - Come Downstairs and Say Hello. I spent many, many hours reading walkthroughs and poring over transcripts to make everything as close to canon as possible.

Which story was the easiest to write?

So far? My ST: TNG story! No idea why it's been so easy (relatively speaking), but I'm not arguing, either. (This would be Hello, My Dear).

The Writing Process

What is your favorite part of writing?

Writing dialogue, and editing. (QueryShark.com, which is run by an IRL literary agent, has been a huge resource for me re: writing techniques and dos/don'ts -- I have a weird love for picking my own writing apart, and some of her suggestions just gave me even more ammunition on ways to punch things up.)

What is your least favorite part?

Plot development!!!!!!!

Describe your style in 1 to 2 sentences.

Heavy on character development, sarcasm and angst, with a healthy dose of humor to balance out the feeeeeeeeeeeels.

Who are some of your writing idols and/or influences?

Robin McKinley, Tamora Pierce

What programs do you use to write and/or edit?

MS Word and Word Mobile

.Are you a plotter or a pantser?

More of a pantser, but writing an actual outline was the thing that has stopped SL from going completely off the rails...

Do you write RPF?

No.

Who is your favorite character to write and why?

Nick Fury. OMG. He has done it all, seen it all, and simultaneously DGAF while giving all the fucks.

What do you think are your writing strengths?

Character development, and writing dialogue.

What do you struggle with?

Plot. I'm terrible at it. The medication I take for depression has the side effect of inhibiting creativity and slows the writing process down something awful. The other thing I REALLY suck at is not getting hung up emotionally over lack of reader engagement. But no amount of psychotropic medication will cure that!

Favorite Trope?

Canon character falling for feisty OC, apparently!

Favorite word to use?

How bout favorite word to MIS-use - "alight." I have to go back and fix some egregious misuses of it in SL!

What is the best piece of writing advice you have heard?

Not actual advice but a lesson learned from my 9th grade English teacher, who taught me the value in letting someone slaughter my work. This got me out of the ditch years later when I had written myself into a corner 3/4 of the way through my Portal fic -- a reader left a comment complaining I was delving into crackfic territory. Once I got out of my snit, I realized they were right, reworked the chapter completely, and was able to finish the story. Chell and Wheatley would probably still be stuck in a game of Jeopardy! if it hadn't been for that one review.

What would you say to a new fanfic writer starting out?

Ao3 is a much easier platform to use than FF.net, and tumblr is a great way to get your work out there, if that's something you're interested in doing. Also, use tags.

What is a random bit of research you have not managed to work into a fic yet?

I want to involve the Very Large Array (in NM) into one of my stories at some point.

What is your favorite random detail from one of your stories?

From by "To My Brother, Thor" story, where Loki and Thor are playing martyr and Loki is burning Thor at the stake -- it's based on my mom and aunt doing the same thing when they were kids, like all good little Catholic children do...

Any goals or WIPs you want to share?

My long term goal is to turn SL into an original work. Fingers crossed, I just need to finish the damn thing first!

This or That

fluff AND angst

smut AND fluff

reader insert AND OC

one shot or series

canon divergent or AU

Pepsi or Coke (hot chocolate)

coffee or tea

sweet or savory

Check them out peeps!!. Until next week!!

#writer's spotlight #wrathkitty #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #thor fanfiction #star trek: tng fanfiction #loki #q #q fanfiction #portal fanfiction #portal fanfic

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razieltwelve · 3 years

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Hi someone who's had to do a similar thing with my writing on ao3 here. I didn't have the same quantity of comments to work through as you did, but I did have quite a few, I ended up changing the settings on all my fics to screen comments and then went through them page by page. I don't know if there's any 'mods' that can be added to ao3 so that comments are all on one page like ff.net (wish there was). If you do decide to nuke things though, I would recommend just reposting your stories on ao3 with screened comments, ff.net seems like its dying and tumblr is not user friendly enough for longer fanfics like yours (which I enjoy reading a lot btw). They were very patient with me when I explained that I was going to take time to get through my comments, but they don't delete your stuff without warning, and if they do then you get emailed a copy of your work. (I am sorry this happened to you though, I know you have a life outside of writing fanfiction and this takes time away from it)

I have spent my whole day getting everything up to code, so to speak.

It was not a fun process.

Frankly, if, after all of this, there are still issues, I'm tempted to just nuke the profile and call it quits over there. I write fan fiction because I enjoy it. If I no longer enjoy writing it or if it becomes too troublesome to post, I'll just stop or find somewhere else.

In a way, this was a wake up call.

I remember when I first started writing fan fiction. Damn, those were good days. I was just starting out as a writer, and I finally found a bunch of people who liked what I wrote and were willing to give me a chance.

It's been years since then, sixteen years since my first story on ff.net. That's a long time.

And today I stopped and looked around, and it just occurred to me that pretty much nobody is left from those days. One by one, almost everyone else has gone off to do something else. I don't begrudge them that. There's a life outside of fan fiction, and I don't blame anyone for focusing on that.

It's just... a little sad, I suppose, to realise that you're one of the last people standing, that all of the familiar names are gone and that the stories you loved aren't really known anymore because the fandoms you started off in have fallen by the way side either because of time or mismanagement.

And so I just wonder how long before I end up following all the others who've left. I suppose Final Rose is probably the main reason I haven't already gone. I get to go nuts with the characters and do whatever I want, and that's really fun.

I'm not going to lie either. I've got a definite emotional attachment to the gang. Ordinary Heroes was first posted ten years ago this past June. That means Diana and the others have been around for a decade. That's a decade with a spiky-haired ragamuffin, her overly protective sister, and their surprisingly normal cousin. They've been with me through a litany of injuries, hospitalisations, and the like, and I've gotten to write them growing up, marrying, having kids, and even passing away. That's something. It really is.

I guess I'm rambling now. I do that sometimes. But, yeah. When the day finally comes that I call it quits, I think they're what I'll miss the most about fan fiction. But I'd rather quit than let frustration, boredom, and anger turn me bitter. They brought a smile to my face when I came up with them, and they've made readers smile over the years too, and that's how I'd like it to stay.

I think the thing that makes the happiest is that if I got run over by a car tomorrow, then there would be people out there who will remember. They and all the stories I've written won't die with me. Is that vanity? I suppose it is. But my stories have been good to me, better than I deserve, so it's comforting to know that they'd outlive me.

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

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Hi! So, I finally created a tumblr blog. Do I know how to use tumblr properly? Hell no, I have no idea of how this site works, but I'll probably learn with time, right?

I've created this blog because I wanted to communicate better with my readers and share my zennie love with other zennies. And also, I've been working on many fics lately and I'm dying to post some small sneak peaks!

Anyways, here's the link to all of my fics and a small summary of them! I tend to update often, and I'll always post it in here once a new chapter is up!

When The Levee Breaks:

What would've happened if Jackie and Donna left Point Place when Eric moved to Africa and Hyde married a stripper?

In this story, Donna and Jackie moved to Chicago once they realized that they've sacrificed themselves enough for the sake of their relationships with Eric and Hyde. Will it be too late to fix things once the boys realize what they're missing?

Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna, Kelso/Brooke and Red/Kitty.

Trigger warnings: past eating disorders, depression, child abuse.

FF.NET AO3

Rock you like a Hurricane:

Alternative universe where Donna met Jackie before meeting Eric and the rest of basement gang.

Jackie and Donna met the four basement misfits after a Fleetwood Mac concert, and they developed a strong friendship (and some crushes) with them. This story is not angsty at all, in fact, it is kind of fluffy, just the way I like it.

Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna, Kelso/Brooke, Fez/Laurie and Red/Kitty.

No trigger warnings on this one, well, except the smut. This story will definitely have smut at some point, in case you're uncomfortable with it, I'll always place a warning in the beginning of the chapters, so don't worry!

FF.NET

AO3

Voulez-vouz:

This story is not mine, it was originally written by another author and it was in brazilian portuguese. I've translated it and changed a few things (and I may or may not have added some fluff, I can't help it). Don't worry, I've asked the original author for permission and she was very on board with my idea!

Jackie planned a very romantic trip with Hyde for her birthday, but somehow she ended up in Las Vegas with the whole basement gang. To say she was frustrated would be an understatement.

She thought her trip was completely ruined, but Hyde planned on making it unforgettable. She tends to forget she's not the only manipulative one in their relationship.

Jackie/Hyde, mentions of Eric/Donna and Kelso/Brooke.

No trigger warnings on this one, and this story is complete!

FF.NET

AO3

It's a Christmas Tradition:

One-shot that I've wrote for Christmas! It takes place right after the end of s3ep09 "Hyde's Christmas Rager", and it's very fluffy because again, I can't help myself.

It's been over a month since Veteran's day, and Hyde can't get a certain someone out of his head. She's been on his mind for so long, that he may or may not have bought her a Christmas gift.

FF.NET

AO3

Fez dates Jackie:

One-shot. A rewrite of S3EP21. Instead of asking Donna for help with Caroline, Fez asks Jackie, making a certain burnout jealous beyond befief.

FF.NET

AO3

The Sweetest Gifts:

Ever wondered how Jackie and Hyde would be like as parents?

This is mainly a fluffy story that narrates their journey through parenthood. Each chapter is dedicated to one of their children.

FF.NET

AO3

Zenmasters Tumblr Prompts

The name is pretty much self-explanatory. People sent me prompts a while ago via tumblr, and I wrote one-shots about them. It’s still a WIP, I have about 10 more chapters to go.

Each chapter (in ff.net) is a different story, and they’re all mostly fluffy.

There will be no sad endings in this, so feel free to read it!

FF.NET

AO3

So, this is everything. In case you've never heard of me or my fics, give it a chance. They're not bad, I think. Oh, and I feel like I should warn you all: english is not my first language, but I'm a perfectionist, so if you see any grammar mistakes on my stories please don't be shy and let me know!

Also, I’ll edit this post to add my new stories when they come out!

#zenmasters #jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #eric x donna #fanfic #that 70s show #that '70s show

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hardcore-evil-regal · 4 years

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Life Saver

Summary:

Based off the prompt: Modern AU

Aang works as a lifeguard at the local pools during the summer and happens to save a damsel in distress.

Author’s Note:

For the 2nd prompt of Taang Week: Modern AU

And just because I love to go the extra mile, I also threw in a lil lifeguard AU too ;D

In this fic Aang and Toph are both teenagers (like 17 or so?)

Enjoy, y'all ^_^

You can read the story here, on AO3 or FF.net

A deep huff escapes his lips as his steel grey eyes scan the water. Children are laughing loudly, high pitched squeals of delight escaping them as water spouts from the openings in the pebbled shallows of the kids pool. Excited whoops of delight can be heard from the older children as they slip down the water slides, rushing down and landing with a satisfying splash. Distantly he can hear the calls of swim instructors as they guide their students through the lessons.

Another summer, another stint working as a lifeguard at the local pool.

Nothing ever really happens and Aang supposes he should be grateful seeing as though his job as a lifeguard is to save people from drowning; but sometimes he wishes something would happen to break the awful monotony of just 'watching'.

A group of teenagers walk in, pushing and shoving each other jokingly as they dump their belongings at a free space on the benches lining one side of the pool lanes. Aang watches them with little interest, but maybe just a touch of jealousy. All of his friends have gone away for the summer, leaving him behind to work his holiday job and enjoy their adventures through the wonders of Snapchat. He wishes he could be like those teenagers, just enjoying his summer with his friends and not having to suffer through a boring job of watching other people have fun all day. The group of teenagers are making their way towards the water slides, laughing loudly and he notices one of the girls is unusually dressed still in her T-shirt, jeans and shoes, whilst the rest of her friends are in their swimwear.

"Hey Toph, think quick!" One of the taller guys shouts before abruptly shoving the girl forcefully with his shoulder against hers.

Her smaller stature yields under his weight as she feels herself falling to the side. Stepping with her left foot to right herself, she loses her balance as her shoes slide on the wet ground, and before she can react she's tripped over the raised edge surrounding the pool and fallen in with a resounding splash.

"What the fuck Jet!" The other girl in the group says, alarm in her voice. "She can't swim."

Her friends freeze like deer stuck in headlights but Aang has been watching the whole scene unfold and doesn't hesitate for a moment before throwing his radio to the side and diving into the pool. Of course the one pool that her friends had to push her into is the diving pool, the deepest pool out of all the possible pools at the centre.

His feet kick furiously behind him as he powers his arms through the water furiously, working his way towards the sinking figure. Almost in slow motion, he watches as her limbs begin to drag heavier through the water, her frantic motions turning sluggish. Wrapping his arms around her petite waist, he pushes off hard against the bottom of the pool feeling the extra weight of another person and her water soaked clothes slowing him down. If feels like too long before he resurfaces with her, inhaling deep lungfuls of air as he tows her limp body along with him towards the edge of the pool.

Her friends are waiting by the side anxiously, helping pull her out of the water as he climbs out. She lies there, eyes closed and completely still and Aang fears for a moment that he is too late. Her chest convulses, back arching deeply as she spasms for a moment before her eyes shoot open and she vomits up water onto the ground. His heart jumps in relief and he can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes him as he rubs soothingly at her back.

Once Aang is sure that she’s finished clearing all the water from her system, he radios someone to clean up the area as he takes the girl to the med bay. Her clothes are still sopping wet, so he digs through his locker to find a spare hoodie and pair of shorts for her to change into. After giving her several minutes to change out of the wet clothes, he re-enters the room and thinks that he should not find her as adorable as he does with her dressed in his far too big hoodie and shorts. The hoodie is practically a dress and the sleeves keep slipping over her hands despite her attempts to push them up, and he can see that she’s had to roll the waistband of the shorts several times just for them to stay on.

“Thanks for saving me,” she says breaking the silence between them as she swings her legs sitting on the sick bed.

For just the briefest of moments he is stunned and can’t help but notice how pretty her green eyes look with her dark rimmed glasses on.

“Don’t mention it,” he smiles, “I’m sorry I don’t have anything that fits you.”

She laughs off his comment though she sounds just a little hoarse and she coughs a few times, sipping from the cup of water he’d bought her.

“Make sure you do go to the hospital after this though,” he adds once the laughter has subsided, “I know you didn’t want us to call the paramedics but it is vital that you get yourself checked out just in case.”

She nods her head, waving her hand as she tells him that she’ll make a stop by the local hospital on her way home and a part of him wonders whether she actually will or not with her blasé attitude.

“You know your friend is a jerk,” he says with all seriousness and is surprised by the bark of laughter that escapes her.

“Don’t I know it,” she quips as if it hadn’t been made blindingly obvious by her sudden dip in the pool.

“I’m serious, he shouldn’t have been messing around like that near the water,” Aang says with a furrowed brow, concern in his eyes. “He could have seriously hurt you.”

The barest trace of pink colours her cheeks and she clears her throat several times before giving a half hearted shrug.

“He’s a bit of a dick sometimes.”

Aang shakes his head with a small smile as he lets out a huff from his nose, just the slightest bit amused at her relaxed reaction to her friend, quite literally endangering her life.

“So you gotta name Mr Lifesaver?” she asks him with a teasing smirk as she leans back on the sick bed to rest against the wall, legs still swinging over the edge.

“Aang,” he tells her, offering his hand as he hops up to sit next to her.

“Aang,” she smiles, taking his hand, “my hero!”

He laughs along with her and he likes the way her small hand feels in his own.

“You know I never caught your name,” he looks at her with grey eyes bright.

“Toph,” she answers, still holding his hand.

“Well it was my pleasure, saving your life Toph,” he tells her, sincerity in every word.

Toph swears that the blush that spread across her cheeks as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand was due to the summer heat and not his chaste kiss, but Aang always laughs and kisses her sloppily on the cheek making her blush whenever they tell other couples the story of how they first met.

A/N

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. I am enjoying Taang Week so much, but I also need to hustle because I haven't finished the last 3 fics for the rest of the week yet!! Wish me luck my dudes!!

#taang week 2020 #taang week #taang #toph x aang #toph beifong #aang #modern au #avatar #lifeguard au #watch me fit these tropes in like tetris

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lady-wallace · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 19: Broken Hearts (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Day Nineteen: Broken Hearts

Prompts used: Grief, Suvivor’s guilt

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Golden Wind)

Got another too-long fic with lots of Abbacchio angst! TW: Alcoholism

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

"Just give me the whole damn bottle."

The bartender gave him a look, but handed over the bottle. Abbacchio slid the money across the counter and hunkered down in the corner of the bar, opening the bottle and taking a swig, not even bothering with a glass.

It had been a while. Nearly two months since he had drunk more than a glass of wine at dinner. Bucciarati had made sure of that, helping him get sober after bringing him into his team. And here he was, ruining all the progress he had made.

And not giving a damn.

It had not been an easy week. It had started with a rough mission. Drug traffickers selling poisoned stuff. People had been dying all over the city—kids. It was disgusting, and Bucciarati, of course had to take the bastards down himself. So, they'd gone out to do that.

It had ended in a gunfight. Abbacchio still wasn't used to his Stand, and really, it wasn't made for combat like Bucciarati's so he'd gone with good old-fashioned fists. Unfortunately, it had put him in the line of fire. Bucciarati had realized this just in the nick of time, had run and shoved him out of the way….

Abbacchio winced and squeezed his eyes shut as he took another long pull from the bottle. He would not be forgetting that any time soon, Bucciarati slamming into him, taking them both down, the smaller man lying on top of him, still, white suit splashed in red…

He squeezed his free hand into a fist.

God, Abbacchio had thought he'd killed another partner.

It had just been a shoulder injury. Bruno just had to keep his arm in a sling for a couple weeks and they had taken down the drug dealers, but Abbacchio hadn't been able to stop shaking for days. Had reamed Bucciarati out for his stupidity, though it didn't matter. He'd just started dreaming of Bucciarati dead.

And on top of that it was now the anniversary of his partner's death.

One year. It had been one year, and it hadn't gotten any easier.

But that was the straw that had broken the camel's back. The reason Abbacchio was sitting here, drinking himself into oblivion again. And damn Bucciarati. He could yell at him later if he wanted to. He could kick him out for being worthless. Abbacchio didn't care. It would probably be better for everyone anyway.

The bottle disappeared too quickly and he called for another one, not nearly drunk enough.

But still too drunk to recognize the danger before it was too late.

"Well, would you look at that, the little lost sheep."

Abbacchio heaved his head up with monumental effort and glanced over his shoulder at the men who were now hemming him in. He recognized them, though he couldn't remember all their names. They were all cops he used to work with, but they were the dirtiest of the dirty and that was saying something coming from him.

Abbacchio used to think they were the scum of humanity, couldn't understand why they were still allowed to work, but, of course, now he was no better than them. At least none of them had gotten their partners killed.

"Leave me alone," he muttered.

"Leave you alone?" one mocked. "You're the one who ended up here where you're not welcome anymore."

One of them put an arm around Abbacchio's shoulders, keeping him from rising from his seat. "Or maybe you came because you remember what today is. If you even bothered to remember."

Abbacchio gritted his teeth. Like hell he could ever forget. Part of him would give anything.

Fury ripped through him and he jabbed his elbow into the man's gut. "I said leave me alone."

He shoved away and got up, but swayed on his feet. Okay, maybe he was more drunk than he had thought.

"Hold on," one of the other men said, and grabbed his shoulder, pushing him back onto the stool where they hemmed him in. "Since you're here, you might as well drink a toast. After all, he was your partner."

"Poor kid, cut down in the prime of his life. Too innocent for his own good." One of the cops shook his head. Another grabbed the second bottle the bartender had quietly put on the counter before shifting to the other side, out of the way. "Come on, Abbacchio, let's drink a toast."

He tried to shove away, but they slammed him back and one grabbed his hair, wrenching his head backwards against the bar. The one with the bottle popped the top and grabbed his chin.

"Bottom's up."

Abbacchio struggled as his mouth was wrenched open and the liquor was poured directly down his throat, choking him. He flailed, throat burning from the alcohol, and gurgling desperately.

The men laughed at him, and one pinched his nose, causing him to panic.

"That's right, drink it all, you bastardo."

Abbacchio finally wrenched one of his arms out of their grasp and slammed his fist into the nearest man's groin. The man staggered back with a wheeze, and Abbacchio surged up and snagged the bottle, breaking it on the bar.

He brandished the glass, but they were already on him.

"You cazzo," one snarled, and Abbacchio, snarling, lashed out, but he was too drunk to be coordinated, and the man simply dodged his swipe and another grabbed his wrist, forcing the glass back toward him.

Abbacchio dodged at the last second, and the glass grazed his side. The pain and feeling of blood trickling down his skin put him into survival mode and he lashed out, calling up Moody Blues.

His Stand barely appeared, then flickered away. Okay, maybe he couldn't use it while he was drunk. What the hell was it good for then?

He swung his fist himself and connected with one of the men's jaws, but it was five to one, and Abbacchio wasn't at his best. He somehow got another cut across his arm, and then a fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over. Someone grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the bar. Abbacchio grunted and collapsed on the ground, the broken bottle he still somehow held, shattering and slicing open his palm.

They started kicking him and he just curled up and took it, really not being able to do anything else. So what if they just did him in? How bad would that actually be?

But they didn't, obviously, that would be too merciful.

They dragged his beaten body out of the bar and tossed him out the back door into the trash in the alley, spitting on him for good measure before they went back inside, laughing.

Abbacchio didn't even bother moving. He didn't even really feel the pain; he was just numb.

He didn't know how long it was before there were footsteps, and a pair of expensive leather shoes stopped in front of him.

"There you are."

Abbacchio followed the shoes up the white suit to the black-haired man standing over him with an unreadable expression.

Damn Bucciarati.

Abbacchio groaned, and turned his face back to the dirty street. "Leave me alone," he muttered.

Bucciarati only sighed and crouched. "You know I'm not going to do that, right? Come on, Leone."

Abbacchio shook his head, but Bucciarati grabbed his arm insistently, and somehow, even though he still had one arm in a sling, he heaved Abbacchio to his feet. Abbacchio couldn't help but lean heavily against the smaller man, even though he was afraid to get blood all over Bucciarati's suit. Wearing white in Passione was definitely a power move.

"You're a mess," Bucciarati said, sounding more like a mother than anything.

He started walking and Abbacchio didn't have much choice but to stagger beside him. He eventually found himself leaning against a car as Bucciarati opened the door.

"Get in."

Abbacchio did as he was told. There wasn't much point in resisting.

Bucciarati got behind the wheel and drove one-handed back to the rooms their small team was currently staying in. Abbacchio just sat there, bleeding into the seats of Bucciarati's car, and wondered why the hell the man had scraped him off the streets. Again. Hadn't he learned his lesson after the first time?

They pulled up and Bucciarati got out and silently opened the car door, reaching in to pull Abbacchio out.

He tried to help pull himself to his feet, but every ounce of strength seemed to have left him and the movement was making him nauseous. Before he knew it, he was collapsing to his knees and vomiting into the bushes.

Bucciarati sighed and stood there, probably thinking how disgusting he was.

"Did you find him?"

"Yes, Fugo," Bucciarati replied. "Help me get him inside?"

Abbacchio wiped his mouth miserably and somehow found himself supported between Bucciarati and Fugo as they hauled him inside.

He eventually found himself sitting on a small bench in the bathroom as Bucciarati propped him against the wall.

"Fugo, please fetch the first aid kit," he told the teen.

Fugo nodded and left.

Bucciarati started to pull off his sling with a wince. Abbacchio wanted to reprimand him but…he was really in no position to reprimand anyone.

His head spun and he swayed, but Bruno grabbed his shoulder and steadied him.

"Easy," he said and tilted his head back to study his injuries. He sighed. "You were doing so well, Leone," he said and the disappointment was almost more than Abbacchio could bear on top of everything else.

But then, he was a failure. What else was he supposed to expect.

Fugo returned with the first aid kit and Bucciarati thanked him, beginning to set it out on the counter by the sink.

"Can you take your coat off?" he asked.

Abbacchio fumbled with the laces, but he was too uncoordinated and his one hand was bleeding and still had glass in it. Bucciarati didn't say anything, just came over and did it for him, sliding the blood covered material off carefully and efficient.

He curled in on himself as Bucciarati's eyes swept over the bruises and cuts.

"Let's start with your hand."

He took Abbacchio's hand, settling it palm up on the counter and carefully began digging the glass out of it. Abbacchio gritted his teeth, but kept silent.

"They really did a number on you," Bucciarati commented as he pulled out the last of the glass and held Abbacchio's hand over the sink, pouring peroxide over it. Abbacchio hissed and tried to pull away, but Bucciarati held his wrist fast. "Who was it?" He set Abbacchio's hand on a towel and dabbed it dry carefully before he started to wrap gauze around it.

Abbacchio was silent for a long moment, not really wanting to say, but he didn't really have a choice. Bucciarati was his superior. "Ex-coworkers."

Bruno made a small sound as if that explained it, and turned to the cuts on his arm and side, cleaning them and then bringing out his Stand to zip them closed. Abbacchio had been a little freaked out about this the first time Bucciarati had done it, but it was actually a pretty good way to close wounds.

Bucciarati made a quick examination for head trauma, broken ribs and internal bleeding but seemed satisfied.

"I'll get you something clean to wear," he said and left the small bathroom.

Abbacchio sat slumped on the small bench, aching, swimming head in his hands. He didn't understand Bucciarati sometimes. How could he even look at him? After spending months getting him sober, having to clean him up, and make sure he didn't choke on his vomit in the night, having to deal with his asshole attitude that would have had him shot if he were with any other gang in Passione, how could he even look at Abbacchio? Especially now when he had been doing better, finally, and yet, it had been all too short-lived.

How could he still care enough to jump in front of Abbacchio and take a bullet for him?

Everything was just too much. Abbacchio's head swam and his stomach roiled. He barely made it to his knees and to the toilet before he was throwing up again, even though there was hardly anything in his stomach. He'd barely eaten anything for the last few days.

Bucciarati came back in and silently crouched beside him, pulling his hair back from his face. Abbacchio groaned, panting as he slumped, head resting against the toilet seat.

Bucciarati started pulling his hair back into a rubber band to keep it out of the way then rose to get a washcloth, wiping Abbacchio's face like he was a child.

"Come on, you need to be in bed."

"Why the hell did you bring me back?" Abbacchio croaked, pulling his head upright and staring up at the other man. "I'm not worth the bother."

"Yes, you are," Bucciarati told him firmly. "I picked you for this team specifically, remember?"

"Yeah, back when you still thought you could fix me," Abbacchio slurred, and raised his injured hand weakly. "Look at me. Obviously, I'm not going to change."

Bucciarati pressed his lips into a thin line. "You don't believe in yourself enough, Abbacchio."

"With good reason!" he shouted. "No matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be good enough! I'm still gonna make stupid decisions that end up getting people killed. I'm no good! Why don't you get that?!" He choked on his words and bit his lip. "I should just leave. I'm not going to risk getting you or Fugo killed too. You already came too close."

He pushed himself to his feet and swayed, catching himself on the doorjamb with his injured hand. He let out a sharp yell, and staggered.

But Bucciarati caught him before he could collapse, and pulled an arm over his shoulders.

"Come on, you need to get into bed."

Abbacchio shook his head, eyes stinging. "Just leave me the hell alone. Why can't you understand that I'm toxic? Poison? You should have just left me in the alley."

Bruno turned him around and gripped his chin, forcing him to look at him. "Leone, stop. That's an order."

But Abbacchio simply shoved him away. "I got my partner killed, and I almost got you killed too! You have a deathwish or something, idiota?!"

He collapsed, the fall jarring his aching body, and buried his face in his hands. What a disgusting, wretched creature he was. Useless.

A choked sob escaped his throat despite his best efforts, and Bucciarati was kneeling in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Leone, I'm not dead," he said firmly. "This guilt you feel…I get it. I do."

"How could you ever understand?" Abbacchio demanded. "You never killed your own comrades!"

"And neither did you," Bruno said firmly.

"He died because of me," Abbacchio whispered wretchedly.

"It could have been anyone who shot him," Bucciarati said softly. "That's just the reality here, Abbacchio. I felt the same way after what happened to my father. I should have gone with him that day. I would have too, but he told me not to. I blamed myself for years because of that, but there was nothing I could have done. I killed the men who did it, but it didn't make me feel less empty inside. It just helped me to know that they wouldn't do that to anyone else. That's all we can do, Leone, move forward in this life, and try not to forget. Try to keep the memories of those we lost close and try not to disgrace them."

Abbacchio rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes, smearing the eyeliner that he'd forgotten to wipe off. "It's just…how do you forgive yourself?"

"I can't answer that for you," Bucciarati said gently. "You'll have to decide that for yourself. But Leone, don't ever think you're not worth anything, because you are to me. And I imagine your partner thought the same."

Abbacchio choked on a sob and doubled over, abused stomach aching. Somehow, he found himself pressed against Bruno's shoulder, shaking, getting his suit wet as well as bloody.

"Come on, you're in no shape for this right now," Bucciarati told him gently and heaved him to his feet and somehow over to the bed.

Abbacchio collapsed bonelessly, his body pretty much giving up at this point. Bucciarati pulled a blanket over him and then pulled a chair over to the side of his bed.

Abbacchio wanted to snap at him, tell him he didn't need a caretaker, but…if he were being honest, he was grateful tonight to know he wasn't alone as he slipped into his drunken oblivion.

XXX

He didn't know what time it was when he awoke, but he had a killer headache and wished he hadn't.

Actually, his whole body ached. Abbacchio hadn't felt all the nuances of pain last night still under the fuzzy blanket of the liquor, but not his body was one huge ache.

He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, wishing he would just smother.

The door opened and he squinted toward the figure who came in with a tray.

"Good, you're awake," Bucciarati said, setting the tray on his side table. It held black coffee and toast. Abbacchio's stomach turned, but that was probably mostly because it was empty. He was obviously experienced with this feeling. And Bucciarati had learned that dry toast and coffee were pretty much the only things Abbacchio could keep down after a bad night.

"Try to get this down. Then we're going out. The fresh air will do you good," the other man said in a businesslike manner.

Abbacchio groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "You're taking me on a job?"

Bruno didn't reply, simply nodded to the coffee before leaving the room again and Abbacchio growled and took the warm cup in his uninjured hand, taking a sip.

It did help, clearing his head a little, and his stomach settled with the toast. It made it possible for him to get out of bed, dragging himself to the bathroom to clean himself up, and get dressed.

He made it downstairs without falling on his face and Bruno was waiting for him.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.

Abbacchio trudged after him. "Where the hell are we going?"

Bucciarati still didn't say anything, just got in the car. Abbacchio grunted and got in as well, wincing as he folded his tall, battered frame into the small space.

They drove for a while, a little out of the city, and finally Abbacchio realized where they were when Bucciarati pulled the car to a stop.

The graveyard.

"Why the hell are we here?" he demanded. "This better be so you can dig my grave."

Bucciarati gave him a longsuffering look and opened the door. "Come on, Abbacchio."

He refused to move. His hands were shaking, and he wasn't sure whether it was from the hangover or something else.

"Leone."

"Are you ordering me?" Abbacchio bit out.

"No," Bruno said simply.

And maybe it was because of that that Abbacchio got out of the car. Bucciarati smiled slightly.

"I don't want to be here," Abbacchio stated firmly.

"I know," Bruno replied. "But I think it will make you feel better."

He hung back, still shaking, until Bruno gripped his shoulder and forced him to meet his gaze. "Leone. It will be all right. Trust me."

His face crumpled, and he had to fight back embarrassing tears, but he swallowed hard and followed Bucciarati through the graveyard.

He did trust Bruno, damn it, he did. He was probably the only person Abbacchio could trust anymore. He certainly couldn't trust himself.

He didn't know how Bruno knew exactly where to go, but the man did his research. Abbacchio stayed to the path, watching Bruno move closer to his partner's grave as he hung back.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"So you can pay your respects," Bucciarati told him.

Abbacchio bit his lip nearly to bleeding and slowly approached the grave. It was small, simple, and yet it weighed on him like the ground now resting over a man who had once been his friend. A man he had killed.

Abbacchio's legs wouldn't hold him anymore and he slowly knelt in the grass, still damp from the morning dew. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, I'm so sorry."

There were flowers on the grave and Abbacchio wondered who had brought them, but he was glad someone cared.

Bucciarati carefully sat down next to him. "I didn't know the man, but, I feel that he would forgive you."

"You don't know that," Abbacchio spat. "He was too young, we both were. But I was stupid, and he was the one who paid the price."

Bruno was quiet a long moment before he asked. "Was he married? Children?"

Abbacchio shook his head. "Sweetheart. Was gonna ask her to marry him. See, he was straight-cut like that."

"Leone, he would have gotten caught in the crossfire eventually, or become jaded like the rest," Bruno told him, not unkindly, just as a fact. "With the corruption in this city, we all fall in some way eventually. It's unavoidable. You either let yourself be prey, or you become a hunter." He looked over at him. "But you have an overwhelming sense of justice. That's why I wanted you on my team. Because, deep down, you still want to live in a better world. And I want to make this city that. I want to mend it, make it a place people can live in without fear."

Abbacchio looked down at his hands. He knew that. That's the only reason he had joined Bucciarati to begin with. Because he somehow believed that even in this wretched world, this man was actually good. Abbacchio hadn't seen good in a long time.

"You're right," he said, voice steadier. "This city takes and takes and takes. And maybe…maybe it is time for someone to stand up and take it back."

Bruno smiled and nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

They sat for a long time, and finally Abbacchio started to feel a little better, a little weight lifted off his chest. He knew it wasn't going to just go away, that he would probably never stop feeling the pain, the guilt, but, maybe it would fade eventually.

Maybe he could move on.

And when he followed Bucciarati back to the car, he promised himself that this was a new start, and this time, he was going to make the best of it.

#whumptober2020 #no.19 #broken hearts #grief #survivor's guilt #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #fanfiction #jjba fanfiction #Leone Abbacchio #abbacchio whump #angst #alcoholism #violence #depression #hurt/comfort #bruno bucciarati #bruno and abbacchio friendship

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