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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

“Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

#thank you so much for your request!#I hope it's rather not too long #I got ahead of myself lol #anyways... yeah!#requested #kaeya #kaeya x reader #gn!reader #scenario #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #my writing

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

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Secret

a Mathew Barzal one shot

a/n: and here it is! the recent news-inspired secret baby fic. Huge thanks to all who reached out and encouraged me to write it and to those who gave me ideas and advice. completely fictitious timeline and hockey-related events here, and we’re pretending the pandemic is not a thing in this one.

summary: Mat Barzal and his longtime girlfriend welcome their first baby after keeping her pregnancy well-hidden from the public eye.

warnings: morning sickness and childbirth (nothing graphic or detailed). dad Barzy, which deserves a warning. swearing. super fluff.

_____

Never in your life did you imagine that you would be attempting to conceal your first pregnancy — or any pregnancy — from members of the media.

Then again, you never could have predicted that you would end up being the long-term girlfriend of one of the most recognizable figures in the National Hockey League, and, more specifically, on the New York City sports scene. But if there’s one thing you had learned over the course of your more than four-year relationship, it was that life is full of the unexpected.

Currently, that aforementioned figure was whipping his car as quickly as possible into a private parking area at New York Presbyterian, glancing at you every ten seconds as you breathed through the early stages of labor with your firstborn baby, your water having broken just as you and Mat were settling in for sleep around midnight.

Only a small, select group of people knew that you and Mat were expecting, and as you checked in to the maternity ward just before one o’clock in the morning, you were grateful that there were very few people around you. You were hurried to your private room, Mat faithfully carrying your bags and nearly stepping on the heels of the poor nurse pushing your wheelchair, refusing to let you out of his sight for even a second.

Only once you were settled into bed, changed into a most unflattering hospital gown, hooked up to several monitors, and examined, did you allow yourself to look up at Mat and announce your practically inevitable victory.

“As long as that nurse doesn’t moonlight as a reporter, I think we did it,” you ventured with an incredulous chuckle. Mat shook his head in disbelief as he stood next to your bed, holding one of your hands in both of his.

“Don’t wanna speak too soon, but yeah, I think we did,” he agreed. “I can’t believe we managed to keep this a secret.”

_____

Six weeks

It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d ever had your head hanging above a toilet bowl on New Year’s Day.

But it sure as hell was the first time it had ever happened when you had no hangover to speak of.

In fact, you’d only had two sips of champagne the previous night before you felt weirdly dizzy and passed out in bed watching the Isles battle the Bruins.

The next thing you knew, you were being gently roused from deep sleep by your boyfriend, whose brow was creased with concern as he leaned over you.

“Sweetheart?” Mat spoke softly when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smoothing your hair against your heavy head. “You okay?”

You inhaled deeply, feeling completely off. “Yeah... yeah,” you insisted softly. “What time is it?” you asked, discombobulated.

“It’s almost midnight,” Mat answered. “How long have you been sleeping?”

You slowly pushed yourself up on your elbows in bed. “Uh... I don’t know,” you admitted. “I watched the first period... I think.”

That wasn’t like you, and Mat knew it. A lifelong hockey fan, you kept close tabs on not only Mat and the Islanders, but the scores from around the entire league each night. Coming from a hockey-loving family, watching highlights on NHL Network was your late night routine. On top of that, you looked flushed to him, and dark circles hung around your eyes, a rarity for you except when you were ill.

“Baby... are you sick?” Mat shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed and quickly taking a seat next to you on the edge of the mattress. He put the back of his hand to your forehead and studied you carefully. “You don’t feel fevered.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a cold,” you replied, remembering the strange feeling that had overcome you when you sipped your champagne earlier. “I do feel kinda dizzy... nauseous.”

Mat nodded, eyes still full of worry. “Maybe you’re getting the flu,” he suggested. “That’s been going around lately.” You nodded too, yawning.

“Well, listen,” Mat continued, motioning for you to lie back as he pulled the covers over you again. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow if you still aren’t feeling well, I’ll run to the pharmacy and get you some medicine and stuff. Okay?”

You nodded again, overcome once more by exhaustion as you settled back into your bed. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thanks, babe. Hey, did you win?”

Mat smiled. “Yeah, baby, we won. Now get some rest. I love you, sweet girl,” he said, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

“I love you, Maty,” you breathed. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip slowly as you immediately drifted back to sleep.

And now here you were, seven hours later, heaving into the toilet as Mat dropped to his knees behind you on the tile, gathering your long hair into his hands as quickly as possible.

“Oh, honey,” he groaned, rubbing your back. “You poor thing.”

After flushing the toilet several times to get rid of the contents, you finally sat upright, cautiously, slowly.

“God, I feel like shit,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your forehead as Mat ran his hands back and forth down your legs, trying to soothe you.

“I can tell,” he said sadly, standing. You looked up at him helplessly as he said, “I’m gonna go get you flu meds from the pharmacy. Let me just get dressed.”

You nodded once, feeling too lightheaded to move your head any more than that. You didn’t budge from your place on the floor as Mat took his robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders, kissing the crown of your head before exiting the bathroom. You heard him shuffling around in his drawers as you closed your eyes, willing the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to cease.

Moments later, Mat called out to you from the bedroom.

“Do you need anything else from the drugstore while I’m there, baby?”

You opened your eyes to glance around the bathroom, trying to keep your head as still as possible. You saw toothpaste, Tylenol, and... did you have enough tampons?

You reached next to you to open the drawer that held your monthly supplies, and you were surprised to find two boxes of tampons, not even opened, along with a plethora of pads and liners.

Finally, it hit you like a crashing wave. Suddenly, your world started spinning, and it wasn’t because of the nausea.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, slamming the drawer shut.

“Maty...” you called out hoarsely, causing him to rush back toward the bathroom. Your heart was racing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously as he appeared in the doorway, ready to take up residence on the floor with you again if necessary.

You bit your bottom lip and inhaled a shaky breath before answering, sounding much more calm than you felt.

“I need you to buy me a test,” you said matter-of-factly.

At first, Mat wore a blank expression. “What kinda te— wait…” he said as you watched the wheels turning in his head. You couldn’t help but allow a small smile to spread across your lips as the realization hit him, too. He froze, mouth slightly agape, wide eyes searching yours to try and determine whether you were serious. Reading him, you nodded, which caused his eyes to widen even further.

“A pregnancy test,” you confirmed in a shaky voice.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered familiarly, his own smile beginning to play on his lips.

_____

“That was Liana,” Mat said, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his sweats after ending the brief call. “She’s catching a flight in the morning.”

You nodded gratefully as Mat returned to your side, dutifully grabbing your hand and running his other over your rounded stomach.

“She said to tell you she loves you, and baby, too,” he added with a warm grin. “And that she—“

Mat stopped short the second he heard you groan softly, the smile you’d worn upon hearing Liana’s name having morphed quickly into a wince.

“Another contraction?” Mat asked, hastily pulling the stool by the bed closer and taking a seat.

“Mhm,” you confirmed tightly, rolling on your side to look into his eyes, seeking a diversion. The pain in your face absolutely shattered Mat’s heart. He despised how helpless he felt watching you.

“Just look at me. Breathe, baby,” Mat coached before breathing in and out just as your Lamaze instructor had taught you both, nodding his head to urge you to mimic him. You did your best, squeezing his big hand hard enough that Mat saw his fingertips turning white, though he was too smart and too concerned with your labor pains to point that out.

“Good girl. Breathe, sweetheart. Good girl,” Mat encouraged. “That’s my girl,” he added softly, lightly dragging his fingernails along your scalp, combing his hand through your hair, in an attempt to comfort you.

“I seriously hate you right now,” you spat between pants and gasps. “You did this to me.”

Though he tried to hold back, a breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nose. “Yeah, my mom warned me you might say that,” he told you. “I’d hate me right now, too,” he added, running his fingers along your forearm lightly as you grimaced in agony.

Finally, your muscles relaxed as the contraction passed. Your face softened and your eyes fluttered open to see Mat staring at you intently, concern etched into his gorgeous features. You reached out your hand to run a thumb over his strong jaw.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, giving him your best smile as you caught your breath.

Mat nodded. “I just hate seeing you hurting,” he whispered back. You gave him an understanding look and then grinned brightly.

“But it’s gonna be worth it,” you assured, making Mat’s eyes light up. He kissed your palm and you asked, “Now what else did Liana say? Distract me.”

With a smile, Mat said, “That she can’t wait to meet this little one.” He leaned his head forward to kiss your belly sweetly as you smiled softly, leaning back against the mattress to rest up momentarily before the next wave, as the memory of telling Liana the news months ago came to mind.

_____

Twelve weeks

Your phone buzzed on the dining room table, vibrating against the glass top. Normally, you would never answer a call during a Valentine’s Day dinner with Mat, even at home, but these particular circumstances allowed for an exception.

“It’s Liana,” you smirked, swiping to answer the FaceTime call as Mat muttered, “Nice of her to call you and not her own brother.”

You ignored his complaint and smiled at the woman who was basically your sister-in-law.

“Hi, Li,” you said happily. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Liana didn’t even let you finish your greeting before she asked hurriedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

Mat leaned closer into you in order to be included in the camera’s view. “That’s rude,” he chirped, trying to sound angry, but being betrayed by the smirk twitching at his pink lips.

“No, seriously, you guys,” Liana continued, sounding anxious. “What does this mean?” She lifted the card from the full bouquet of blush pink roses before her. “‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Li,’” she read. “‘We’re so excited to give you another member of the family to love this August.’ And it’s signed from you guys and ‘Baby B...’”

Liana’s eyes flicked back up to your own and she couldn’t stand still, pacing her kitchen. “It’s not funny to joke about this,” she insisted, sounding confused and slightly offended.

“It isn’t a joke, dude,” Mat giggled. “We’re having a baby.”

Liana started screaming after “having.”

Laughter racked your body as you watched her jump up and down, tears streaming down her face as she squealed and asked a dozen times whether you were serious. You nodded each time until her hysteria finally subsided.

“Do Mom and Dad know?” Liana asked with a quaking voice, wiping the dampness from her cheeks.

“Yeah, they know,” you confirmed, swiping at a couple of your own fallen tears. Damn hormones.

“But listen, Liana,” Mat interjected, putting on his most serious tone. “They know, and her family knows, but past that, we haven’t told a soul. We honestly might not tell anyone else, depending on how soon she starts to show. We don’t want crazy fans or, God forbid, the media to get ahold of it and just be intrusive. We’ve seen how that goes. We just want this to be as private as possible. So you can’t post anything, can’t tell any of your friends. Okay?”

Liana nodded, sniffling throughout her brother’s command. “Yeah, totally,” she immediately concurred. “I get it. I think you guys are smart for doing it this way. This is like Kylie Jenner shit.”

You and Mat both snickered at that comparison for multiple reasons, then Liana began truly processing the news.

“Wait... so,” she began. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you replied. “So barring anything out of the ordinary, that kind of means we’re in the clear, risk-wise.”

“And you’re okay? Everything is okay?” Liana asked nervously.

Mat nodded, appreciating his little sister’s obvious concern for you and the baby. “She’s okay, Liana,” he assured as you smiled at him. “She’s perfect,” he added, picking up your hand to press a kiss to your fingers, causing Liana to tear up once again.

“You better take such good fucking care of her, Mat. You hear me? She doesn’t have her mom or any of us nearby, so she needs you,” Liana said firmly to her brother. You warmed at her display of womanly solidarity, ever thankful to have an ally in her.

Mat rolled his eyes. “Yes, Liana, I’ve been taking care of her for years,” he said, unamused.

“Yeah, well, it’s different now,” Liana pointed out. “Now she’s carrying my niece or nephew!”

You and Mat grinned at each other once more, Mat rubbing his hand slowly across your lower belly, which was mostly still flat, save for a slight, bloated curve.

“Yeah, she is,” Mat said airily, gazing into your blue eyes deeply as his sister resumed her squealing in the background.

_____

“Can I please have more ice chips?” you asked as you came down from yet another contraction, sounding whinier than you meant to and slightly hating yourself for it.

Mat smiled warmly down at you, pushing some of your hair back from your forehead and tenderly placing a kiss to your temple.

“Yes. You get all the ice chips you want, sweet girl,” Mat cooed, nuzzling his nose in your hair before stepping back and winking at you, grabbing the ice bucket from the bedside table. If there was one thing you had enjoyed most about the experience of pregnancy and labor, it was the way Mat spoiled you, ever attentive to your needs and wants. “I’ll be right back. Don’t have that baby while I’m gone,” he instructed, pointing at you.

Despite the discomfort you felt, you still breathed a laugh and rolled your eyes at him, Mat positively beaming at you as he walked backwards out of your suite, then turned down the hall.

As you rested your hands against your belly and your head back on the pillow, spotting the big bouquet of flowers Tito had sent for you, another memory from the past several months flashed in your mind.

_____

Twenty weeks

“I’m sorry,” Tito choked out once he stopped coughing on the Easter ham you’d made for a small group of the Isles boys, who had just begun playoffs and therefore weren’t traveling for the holiday, and their significant others. “You’re what?!”

You and Mat giggled, Mat squeezing your thigh under the table reassuringly. Sydney, late in her own pregnancy, jumped from her seat, tears springing to her eyes, and squealed as she ran to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders as you sat grinning at the others — Tito, Marty, Anders, Grace, Josh, and Meg — whose mouths hung open as they tried to process your announcement.

You turned back to Mat, the same broad smile seemingly permanently plastered on his handsome features the past few months stretching across his face once again.

“You wanna show them?” he asked softly, the tone in his voice telling you the decision was yours completely. You nodded, grasping the fabric of your knit sweater, the same casually chic, baggy style that you’d stocked up on to hide your growing stomach.

Sydney let go of you, allowing you to stand from your chair, as she nearly shouted, “What do you mean, show us?! How pregnant are you?!”

You bit your bottom lip, still smiling from ear to ear, and turned sideways, lifting your sweater to reveal your noticeable, ever-rounding bump beneath your high-waisted leggings.

A collective gasp sucked the oxygen from the room, Mat smirking at your friends, as you quietly admitted, “I’m twenty weeks...”

Tito pounded a fist to the table in disbelief and let out a holler. Anders raised his own fists over his head so fast that he knocked off the black baseball cap he wore. Josh and Marty couldn’t stop yelling, “No!” and “No fucking way,” respectively. Meg and Grace immediately leapt to their feet, too. “You’re halfway?!” they shouted in unison.

All Mat could do was beam proudly at you, bringing your waist close as he pressed a reverent, chaste kiss to your stomach over your sweater.

“Surprise!” you sang softly to the onlookers, your voice watery as a couple of happy tears escaped your eyes. The girls all embraced you, taking turns rubbing your belly, as the guys uttered boyish praises to Mat, joking that they didn’t know he had it in him.

Besides your and Mat’s parents and siblings, you still hadn’t told any friends of your pregnancy — making this sacred time that much more special for you and Mat.

But it was time to tell this circle. It had gotten more and more difficult and complicated to refuse drinks when the wives and girlfriends met for brunch, and even Mat was struggling to come up with excuses for why he wanted to rush home from the arena when the rest of the guys his age wanted to go to the bar to celebrate big wins. This close-knit group knowing the truth would help combat that.

You certainly didn’t plan to tell the whole team — quite frankly, there were some recently-added guys you just didn’t know well enough yet, along with some newer girlfriends who seemed a little suspect when it came to keeping team matters close to the vest. You and Mat agreed that you’d tell your close group of Isles friends and leave it at that. And that group, this group, these friends who had become much more like family — these felt like the right people to let in on the secret.

_____

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. “I don’t know if I can do it.” The pain was excruciating now, the pressure was building, and your doctor had just informed you that it was time to push. You felt like crying, but you were so paralyzed by the fear that gripped your chest that no tears were flowing.

“Hey…” Mat began softly, gently taking your face in both of his hands and angling it to look up at him, his eyes radiating confidence and pride. “Listen to me, okay? You’ve been so strong throughout this whole pregnancy. I know better than to believe that that’s gonna end now. You can do this, my love. I know you can,” he encouraged. “And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

You nodded, still feeling completely unprepared but somehow strengthened by Mat’s faith in you. As the doctor approached, gowned and gloved, she looked at you with anticipation.

“You ready, sweetie?” she asked. With one last look up at Mat, who nodded and kissed your knuckles, you turned back to her with a nod of your own. She patted your knee and said, “Okay, let’s have a baby. On the count of three, I want you to push, just the way we talked about. Daddy, you hold this knee. Ready? One… two… three… push.”

_____

Twenty-three weeks

The Isles had lost in the second round of the playoffs. Mat was obviously disappointed, but he was also more excited for this offseason than he’d ever been for a summer before, which certainly softened the blow. You were having his baby in just three more months, and he absolutely could not wait. Mat was ready to commence full dad mode — getting the nursery ready, reading the books, and most importantly, keeping a close eye on you every moment that he could.

On the same day the guys were cleaning out their lockers and giving final interviews following the end of the playoff series loss, Mat had scheduled a meeting with the coaching staff and team public relations executives to inform them of your pregnancy. He wanted them to be aware of the situation in case the news got out before the birth, especially as your baby bump was getting harder to hide. Since the two of you had decided to stay in New York for the summer instead of returning to British Columbia, to avoid travel late in your pregnancy, he knew that the chances of someone spotting your round stomach and starting to talk about it was higher on Long Island than in Coquitlam. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the news got out, but if you and Mat could help it, you’d much prefer that it didn’t. He wanted this experience to be peaceful for you and as enjoyable as possible.

The meeting had gone well, which was unsurprising. The staff was thrilled for the two of you and promised to keep a tight lid on the information until you were ready to share it publicly after the baby had been born — they also agreed to evade any questions that their office might encounter on the topic during the summer.

Mat had thanked them profusely and said his goodbyes before leaving the building, heaving his heavy equipment bags into his trunk, and heading back home to you. A few minutes later, his phone dinged with a text from you and he glanced down at it at the next stoplight. It was a photo of the two of you in front of Big Ben on a rare sunny day in England, Mat hugging you close to his chest.

“This just popped up in my memories. Four years ago today we were in London and you told me you loved me for the first time. Look at us now. 💋”

Mat grinned at the message before returning the phone to his cupholder, his mind traveling back in time to that first big vacation the two of you had taken together. He knew your affinity for English culture — the fashion, the history, and, of course, the royal family, so he decided to take you on a trip across the pond a couple of months after you started dating.

It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made, as it brought the two of you much closer in those early days of your relationship — so close, in fact, that he found himself professing his love for you over a candlelight dinner on your last night in London. You had frozen, just for a moment, before a broad smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling.

“I love you, too, Maty,” you’d said softly, allowing Mat to finally exhale as he basked in the knowledge that you felt the same way as he.

London was a landmark in your love story. Mat blinked a few times at that thought, an idea suddenly coming over him.

London…

_____

London Riley Barzal, named for the city where you fell in love and given your current last name as a middle name, was born August 15 at 8:13 p.m., after twenty hours of labor.

You and Mat had never known a love like the one you found the moment your baby girl was laid on your chest, and he had never been more fiercely in love with you than he was as he watched you snuggle her close.

“God, she’s so beautiful,” Mat breathed, voice quivering as he realized that this tiny girl belonged to him — to both of you.

“She’s perfect. Just perfect,” you agreed as her strong cries suddenly quieted into small whimpers.

Immediately, Mat looked you in the eye. “She knows your voice,” he said in astonishment.

As your baby blinked and squinted before opening her eyes for the very first time, she seemed to look directly up at her daddy. You smiled knowingly at Mat, who was frozen in place as he locked eyes with his baby daughter for the first time.

“I think she knows yours, too,” you suggested, the two of you smoothing your fingertips over her tiny face and hands in wonder.

You spent several minutes soaking it all in as a brand new family of three, both talking to London softly and placing kisses on her tiny head, before the nurse took her from your arms to take her vitals and give her a brief exam.

As you watched your healthy, gorgeous baby being fawned over by the medical team, you breathed a deep sigh of relief and a silent prayer of gratitude before opening your eyes again to see the love of your life staring down at you in absolute amazement.

“You did so good, baby,” Mat said through tears of pure joy. He pressed his lips to your damp forehead, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You did so good. You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m so goddamn proud of you,” he praised.

“We have a baby, Maty,” you said with an awestruck, tearful chuckle. “I just had our baby.”

Mat nodded, grinning. “We have a daughter, my love,” he said. “Our little London.”

_____

One week later…

685 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years

Text

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining. Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again. By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly. It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks. “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?” She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right. Crap. You forgot about that little white lie. “Sorry, hang on a sec.” You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face. “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you feeling okay? I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied.

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah. He was big, too. And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.” Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down. When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others. You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned. You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing. So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over. “Hm. Better keep that on there. You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag. You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully. The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed. Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in.

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work. The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you. You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her. And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence. But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge. Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was. You gave a soft sigh. “Of course not. He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement.

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it. She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them. You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing. More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes. But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied. You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No. I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded.

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes. You had to choose your words carefully.

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained. “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away. It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you. And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people. You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something. You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right? You treat each of us like family. Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know. But you don’t. That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes. “You’re so nice, big sis.” Her compliment made you smile.

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation. “Am I all done?”

You nodded. “You’re free to go.” You announced. Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name. “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave. As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand. Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before. It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time. Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation. It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear. The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past. It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

* * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible. To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores. He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels. His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you. The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before. But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake. He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it. It shouldn’t be important. You shouldn’t be important. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.

The cleaning only occupied him for so long. Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them. He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories. Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands. The cigarette was gone within a minute. The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort. So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids. His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face. Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal. It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space. His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself. They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret. But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind. How did you fold your towels?

Idiot. He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague. Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind. He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence.

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar. A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated. Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him. The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination. No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

* * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes. You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects.

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles. Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up. You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand. Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked. You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction. “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind. “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…? Maybe Dabi said something the day before. Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded. “She might throw it up. She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank. No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits. Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it. You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile. “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up. “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented. “However, Kurogiri is supervising her. Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high. I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered. “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled. “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents. It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh! One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.” Toga explained. Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table. “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated. “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides. “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray. Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him. “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill. But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward. Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne. Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be. The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date. You wanted to laugh. Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates. In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t his type anyway. And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage. Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together. He needed someone he could trust. He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact. He needed a friend. You could do that. You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag. If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills. It was about time for it anyway. With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch. Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form. You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants. Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain. He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems. Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in. You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips. His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing. If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down. “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice? How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog. Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted. The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness. The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence. Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth. Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered. All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival. A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with. You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls. With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.” He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog. He gave you a soft glare. “Why did you even take this? You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased. “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.” You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it. That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk. “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes! So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back. It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander. “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first. If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl. “Fine, you big baby.”

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth. He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful. Definitely burnt. And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth. You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.” Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back. “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.”

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll? You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “Don’t try to act like you know me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. So eat up.” You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose. He pushed the bowl away back towards you. “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.” He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed. “and she had Kurogiri with her, too. Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed. “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm. “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head. Dinner date. Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it. The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks. Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you. He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits. But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him. Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table. You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off. But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload. But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could. More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed. You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment. You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.” He finally said. He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips. “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball. You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face. “Yeah, thanks.” You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it. “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway. “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first. Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.”

Was it a lie? Of course. You were starving. Did Dabi know that you were lying? Of course. But he took the other half of the muffin anyway. You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

“Are those my towels?” you asked.

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end. Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now. Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before. He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal. Bringing ramen. Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something. You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes. Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster. As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle. His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills. He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it. “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space. “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile. “It is. But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower. You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch. The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze. As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night. There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him. Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off? About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted.

“I’m not talking about the pain. I’m talking about… I don’t know. Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone. “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll. Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face. Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified. You needed to understand more. You needed to know how bad it was. “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling. Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions? You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night. Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with. You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing. “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing. Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again. And certainly not twice in one day. You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them. Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk.

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back? What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand. They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little. “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you. You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips. You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured. “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself. His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state. You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did. I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied. “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him. “NO!” You finally exclaimed. “Of course, I didn’t! Why would you even…” but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you.

You playfully punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed. “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back. “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit. With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower. You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind. You weren’t here for this. You were here to treat him and get out of his space. You weren’t his type. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice. Why did he have to be such a flirt? It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time. Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there. You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today. Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip. It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty. How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face.

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now. You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew. In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you. It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered. “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided. “Of course I’m going to do your legs. The better I treat you, the better you can rest. And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll. I won’t be needing them. Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing. “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk. “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable. Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen. But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure. He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up. He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you. What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery. Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears. Was it multiple sensory attacks? You flinched again. And again. There was a rhythm. So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out. Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper. He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears. He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point. But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave? Why stay here if it was bothering you this much? Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter. You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling. The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes. Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized. The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room. Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag. It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so. Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door. After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmie @mae-rd @mrsreina @ohh-takuuu @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween @jojoniles @steale24 @peach-tea-0 @orenjineki @diobrandoatemykids @minionsexuall @liitlesushi @jojoniles @bilalbambi @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle @babayaga67 @off-brand-overhaul @levenin @exxzy @wootato

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#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x you #touch #dabi touch #soft dabi #pining #slow burn #TW: blood #TW: needles #TW: killing #TW: violence

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nateofgreat · 3 years

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Well, since Supergirl helpfully confirmed that Kara is alive, in the present, and active as a superhero. We now get to try and rationalize why she didn’t help during the entirety of Superman and Lois, or even show up for Ma Kent’s funeral. Oh, and vice versa, why didn’t Superman lend a hand with his own nemesis?

So, rationalizations away!

-Superman/Supergirl were both somehow busy for the entirety of each other’s plot lines. What could be so important they can’t lend each other a hand in saving the world you ask? Heck if I know.

-Off-screen, between seasons, Superman ate all of Kara’s potstickers and now the two are on bad terms.

-Crisis somehow made the two forget about each other, or split them into different universes where the same version of Diggle still exists.

-Superman was on his way but Supergirl absorbing all the sunlight on earth caused him to embarrassingly drop like a fly. This made things so awkward between the two that Supergirl’s been avoiding his calls, and Superman’s started pretending that she doesn’t exist.

-Clark Kent’s laying low and has broken off contact to avoid having his identity exposed due to Kara announcing to the world that she’s Supergirl.

-The last season of Supergirl takes place in an alternate universe, thus explaining why nothing in it makes any sense.

-Supergirl never, in fact, escaped the Phantom Zone. Everything that happened after she got sucked in is a hallucination.

-Superman’s scared of magic and thus refuses to go within half a country of Lena, or anyone that’s been around Lena.

-Supergirl had an awkward feud with Tal Rho back on Krypton and ducked all of Clark’s calls to avoid seeing him.

-When Lex infiltrated the Tower he secretly took Kara’s phone and blocked Clark’s number on it. The two have yet to notice.

-Somehow the two plot lines were occurring simultaneously. With neither referencing the other at all.

-Superman saw Supergirl’s speech and got annoyed because that his thing. He’s currently in the process of suing Kara for copyright infringement.

-Superman disowned Kara as his cousin for some reason in favor of Tal Rho.

-Superman saw his chance while Supergirl was preoccupied, called the Justice League together, and usurped her spot in it.

-Supergirl caught solar radiation from her stunt with the satellite and is gravely ill for the duration of Superman and Lois.

-The writers didn’t care.

#supergirl #superman and lois #superman #s&l #supergirl spoilers #cw #arrowverse #Clark Kent #Kara Danvers

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pollylynn · 3 years

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Intruder—A Caskett Future!Fic One-Shot

Title: Intruder WC: 1400 A/N: No Tell Me More tonight. (I swear, I am not trying to drag out the horrible end of this season, I just keep getting home late.) So. Future fic, because @theputz913 got me thinking about it.

There’s an intruder in the kitchen. A clumsy, angry, foul-mouthed intruder who happens to live here. This is the sense his mind makes of far too many stimuli for this time of night.

But it’s not night

That’s probably his mind, too, and he can’t tell if it’s dumb or smart, if it’s helpful or otherwise. It’s probably . . . relevant. His body resents that. His body would prefer to think of his mind as misguided, misinformed, and probably a liar. But his mind probably knows what it’s talking about, even if it’s talking in obscure poetic forms or something equally indecipherable.

His feet are in league with his mind. They are shoving themselves into slippers and completely disrupting the integrity of the blanket burrito he had constructed around himself. With that ruined, he might as well let the rest of himself follow and see what’s to be done about the intruder in the kitchen.

He can’t find her at first. It’s perplexing. He can definitely hear her. Clumsiness had turned into purposefully destructive energy and the foul-mouthedness shows no signs of letting up. He thinks at first that it’s his eyes rebelling against burrito disruption—his eyes refusing to see anything at all—but it seems to be more than just recalcitrance.

There’s almost no light. The parts of his body that are not in league with his mind would cast a WTF? glance at the parts of it that are if only there were any part of him that could remember which parts were which, but remembering is hopeless, and anyway his mind is piping up to say that it’s not night, it’s just January. It’s just that stretch of battleship grey weeks when day is subtle to say the least.

January seems relevant. Battleship grey seems relevant. Not night seems relevant, if only he could remember how, why, to whom.

“I’m a morning person.” She appears suddenly from behind the breakfast bar with a clang of cast iron meeting cooktop. “I am,” she adds with a sidelong glance at the skillet she’s just slapped down. She wants the record to show there’s a weapon within easy reach.

“Obviously.” He doesn’t mean to let that slip out. He’s not sure who or what his mouth is in league with, but he definitely did not mean to let that slip out. He’d fear for his life, but she’s slumped forward with her elbows on the counter, so unless she’s finally developed the power to murder him with her mind, he’s probably safe-ish.

“God, Castle,” she groans and lifts a pair of pleading eyes with dark, dark smudges beneath them. “Can you . . . ?” She waves a hand at the counter behind her where, he sees now, she has a amassed a completely indiscriminate selection of things from the fridge, the cabinets, and who knows where else.

“I can.” He snaps into action. He scurries around to the inside of counter and reaches for the elbow still planted against the granite. “And you should—“

Words fail him as he stands her up. Sit. That’s the word he was looking for a moment ago, but now he doesn’t know what word should follow.

“I know.” She jerks her arm away from him. She moves as if to pull her robe defensively around her, but then she thinks better of it. She stands straight and whisks the robe back like a gunslinger about to draw. “I’m huge,” she says, and the expression on her face is this fascinating thing that’s two parts conspiratorial grin, one part murderous you-did-this glare. “I’m fucking overnight huge.”

He wonders about the expression on his own face. He suspects it’s one part chagrin and too many parts you-bet-your-ass-I-did-that. He suspects it is the wrong expression, and the narrowing of her eyes confirms it.

“Sit.” He swallows hard before his expression can get him into any real trouble, and takes her elbow again. The run into gridlock as he tries to move swiftly toward the couch and pillows and blankets, but she clearly wants to hover nearby as he deals with the coffee, as he cooks. “You should sit . . .” He trails off. His eyes sweep ill-advisedly between the sudden, shocking swell of her belly and the tall stools that, when they went to bed last night, surely surely could not have looked so spindly and fragile and definitely prone to toppling over. “You should be comfortable.”

Her face crumples. Her mood swings and his swings along with it. He can feel the exhaustion coming off her in waves. He can see that the thought of settling herself on the stool seems about as achievable as climbing Everest at the moment.

“I wanna watch.” She sniffles. It’s an exhausted sniffle. It’s not actually a teary sniffle, just exhausted, but it bothers her anyway. Her voice drops low. “I wanna talk to you.”

He’s frozen for a moment. He’s overcome with the sweetness of the slightly sullen admission. He wonders, not for the first time, which of the two of them is supposed to be hormone saturated here. He shakes himself out of it.

“Wait.” He rushes by, kissing her on the nose as he passes. “Wait right there.”

He drags the wingback chair over. He parks it just east of the oven door and runs back for the ottoman. He installs her on her relocated throne. He swings her feet up and tucks her in with blankets. She grumbles and swipes at him, but her eyes are closing on her. They’re actually closing.

It’s convenient. It lets him work quickly. He returns the truly random objects—baking powder, leftover Italian, oyster crackers—back in their rightful places and sets the pot of half-caff to brew while she’s dozing off and works on eggs, on toast, on bacon. Her eyes flutter open every once in a while and she murmurs something that really requires no response.

She rouses just in time, just as everything’s done, and she’s something closer to bright-eyed. She’s ravenous enough that she’s forgotten that she wanted to watch, she wanted to talk. She’s ravenous enough that she doesn’t object to the plate he brings her right there in the wingback chair, as he leans with his hip against the counter and picks at his own.

“Tired again,” she announces when her plate is clean. There are spots of slightly miserable pink in her cheeks as she says it. She’s embarrassed, or maybe frustrated with the changes that keep coming at her fast and furious, changes that keep coming from within her. She’s too tired to lift the plate, but she grabs him by his robe when he bends over to retrieve it from her. “Sorry.”

“No.” He tugs at her ear. A play out of her playbook. “Not sorry. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I’m a morning person.” She looks away. “I was going to make breakfast.”

“Kate, you’re making a person in there.” He budges his way on to the arm of the chair and risks a drum of his fingers on the topmost curve of the bump. “I think, just this once, you can be excused from making breakfast.”

She gives him a shrug–nod that says she’s not convinced. “This was supposed to be fun.” He’s frozen again. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s not much of a problem. She seems to have lots to say about it. “They tell you it’s magical and indescribable.” She scowls down at herself. “It’s pretty fucking describable.”

“Describable. As not . . . fun?”

He gives her a thin smile. He’s trying to lighten things, which makes him feel like an ass. Maybe lightening is not what she needs. He opens his mouth to apologize, to ask what she needs, but she’s considering it. She’s still scowling down at herself, but she’s smiling, too. There’s that mixture again—conspiratorial grin plus murderous glare.

“Some of it is.” She startles in the chair. Her eyes go wide and she has to catch her breath. She grabs for his hand and rests it on the curve of her belly. She moves. Their daughter moves like a slow-motion wave and his breath leaves the building entirely. He looks down at her, eyes wide. She smiles up, no murder at all in it now. “Some of it is so much fun.”

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Future Fic #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Lily Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing

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sunnydaisy1 · 4 years

Text

The Coffee Stain On Your Shirt

PETER KAVINSKY X READER

A/N: This is so fluffy i think i need to puke. I should stop procrastinating by watching videos of Kavinsky saying woah woah woah and acc do my work. Anywayy hope you enjoy :)

You were standing by your locker, books and papers messily arranged as you grabbed the stuff you would need for 1st period. Down the hall, Peter Kavinsky was walking along beside his lacrosse team, laughing and joking about the party from the weekend. You and Peter had been partnered up for a English project at the start of the year and this caused you to form an unlikely friendship. You didn't hang out outside of school but you would consider Peter someone you could wave at in the halls or chat to briefly. This made the fattt (cross out) tiny crush you had on him a pain in the fricking ass. You weren't proper friends so in your mind you had no chance with Peter Kavinsky. Peter, on the other hand, thought you were one of the coolest and nicest people he had ever met and looked forward to seeing your face everyday. Of course you were completely oblivious to this fact because from your point of view Peter Grant Kavinsky was way out of your fricking league. Peter noticed you sorting through your locker, admiring the cute red skirt and white top you had picked out for that day. He grinned as he saw your furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on finding your chemistry textbook. Peter had zoned out from his teammates conversation, his focus trained on you. "Urm ill uh see you guys later." He said absent-mindedly, already making his way over to you. The lacrosse team looked at him confused, shaking their heads until they noticed where he was headed and their puzzled looks were replaced with knowing smirks before they walked round the corner. "Hey Y/L/N." You heard a voice say and looked up to see a mop of curly brown hair, recognising it instantly as Peter Kavinsky. "Oh hey Peter." You said back, wondering why he was leaning on the lockers next to yours. "Wanna walk to chemistry together?" Peter asked, his eyes watching your face with a wide smile. "Oh... yeah sure." You replied, confused why he wanted to walk with you when he had other friends in the class. Peter grinned, making your face heat up a little. "I just got to uh find this textbook and then we can go." You said slowly, huffing with frustration as you couldn't seem to locate it anywhere. Peter nodded, leaning on the worn locker next to yours, enjoying watching your annoyed face which he thought was adorable. He glanced into your locker and noticed a green corner poking out from the middle of the papers and books and he leaned in past you, pulling it out carefully. "There you go." Peter said, handing you the green textbook. "Ah, thanks Kavinsky." You frowned, trying to think how you could miss that. "No worries." He returned as you packed the book into your backpack. You looked up at him with a bright smile after closing your locker and Peter felt his stomach flip. "So how was your weekend?" Peter questioned as you started to walk slowly down the hall, brushing past yawning students. "Alright, my sister broke the couch though." You said, making Peter widen his eyes at you. "Wait what? How?" You chuckled and dodged a teacher carrying a pile of books, pressing yourself into Peter's side accidentally. "Uh sorry." You said before returning the slight distance between you. "Basically she was trying to train Milo (your dog) to army crawl and she was running along the couch and then she jumped off the arm and it cracked." Peter laughed beside you, making your heart flutter at his chuckles. You beamed, too distracted to notice the boy in front of you as you turned the corner. "Oof." You groaned as he collided into you and you felt your top start to spread with wetness. You looked down to see the boy had spilt coffee all over your white shirt, leaving a large brown stain. "Oh jeez dude I'm so sorry." The boy in front of you said. You shook your head, "uh its okay I'll go clean it up." The boy gave you a sorrowful look before walking away, leaving you beside Peter with coffee starting to soak your chest. "I'm gonna go clean myself up Peter, I'll see you in chem." You said, walking in the direction of the toilets. "Woah woah woah, no wait I'll help you." He blurted out, following after you in the corridor. You gratefully smiled at him and walked to the girls toilets, "Uh Kavinsky you might wanna wait outside." Peter smirked placing a hand on the door, "Nah I'll come in I've been in here before." You made a disgusted face at him, "Creep." Peter chuckled and followed you through into the thankfully deserted bathroom, "it's not like I spy on girls in here." You raised your eyebrows at him, "righhttt." Peter shoved you playfully and grinned, "piss off y/l/n." You cheekily smiled at him and walked into one of the toilets, grabbing some loo roll before walking back to the row of sinks Peter was standing beside. You turned the tap on and wet the paper slightly before trying to dab off the coffee stain, managing to draw out some of the brown smudge. You continued to furiously dab the splodge but it wouldnt budge, leaving you with a watery brown stain spread across your chest and stomach. "Great." You said sarcastically, pulling your shirt out slightly as you wiped at it. "Here." Peter said, reaching out to you with another wad of wet tissue, placing a hand on your lower back as he gently tried to sponge up the stain on your stomach. "Tryna cop a feel Kavinsky?" You teased, trying to disguise the rapid beating of your heart as he touched you softly. Peter blushed and you grinned, rubbing at the stain going over your boobs. "What? No no no." He said, releasing his hands from you. "I'm joking Pete." He seemed to relax a little when you said that, his lips tugging into a smile, "You're mean." You beamed and wet the tissue again, "You're the one who was tryna touch my boobs." Peter rolled his eyes, discarding the pile of mangled tissues in the bin, "You're impossible y/l/n." You chuckled and looked back in the mirror, sighing when you looked at the lighter brown stain still visible on the front of your shirt. "Urgh this isnt coming off. I'll have to go to lost property for a new shirt." You said grumpily, the clothes in lost property hadn't been washed in years and mainly consisted of pe shirts from 20 years ago. Lovely. Peter raised his eyebrows at you, obviously questioning your plan for a lost property outfit. You sighed and looked in the mirror again, there was no way you could continue wearing this shirt. "Yeah I know lost property is grim but what other choice do I have?" You said, washing your hands of coffee juice. "You could wear my hoodie." Peter suggested and you scoffed, "No you'll be cold." Peter shook his head at your refusal, his mind racing with thoughts of you in his hoodie and how cute you would look. "Nah I'll be alright, I'd rather you wear this than some smelly shirt y/l/n." Peter replied, already taking his hoodie off. You laugh and watch as he pulls the navy hoodie off his body, shirt lifting up as he did and revealing his toned abs and waist. You feel your face heat up and quickly look away from him. You look back to Peter again as he hands you the shirt, a knowing smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Thanks." You say, feeling the soft fabric of the hoodie. "Urm I'm gonna need to take my shirt off." You announce, looking into Peter's chocolate eyes. At once he flushes and his eyes go a little wide, "Oh yeah uh right." He turns round to face the wall and you quickly peel your sticky shirt off, putting it on the edge of the sink before you pull Peter's hoodie over your bra. "All good." You say and he turns back around, an large grin instantly filling his face. Peter's stomach flips at the sight of you, his sleeves passing your fingers slightly. "Peter this is huge!" You laugh, putting your arms out to show him. He chuckles and shrugs, "You look cute." At once you blush and to hide your burning face you turn to the mirror to try and tuck the front in somehow. That's when you notice the large white lettering on the back. "Peter." You say, looking at him from the mirror. He hums in acknowledgement, looking up at you. "This has your surname on the back." Peter pretends to look round as if he didn't know and then gives you the biggest cheeky grin, "oh yeah." "Dude I cant wear this, people will think it's weird!" You said, worrying about the rumours that would spread round school. Peter picked up your shirt, folding it neatly, "well it's either my comfy hoodie or some sweaty shirt." You huffed and tugged on the sleeves slightly, "Ugh I'll wear this. Thanks Peter." You said and he smiled at you, leaning against the wall now. "Can I have my shirt now?" You asked, seeing that Peter had it tucked in his hand. "I have a plastic bag in my locker we can get it after 2nd period." He replied and you dropped your outstretched hand, chuckling, "so you're gonna carry my shirt round all morning?" Peter grinned and nodded, "yep." You roll your eyes playfully at him and reach for your backpack in the corner. When you sling it on your shoulders and look up, you see peter has his phone out and is taking photos of you. You frown and stick your bottom lip out slightly, reaching for his phone, "Stopppp." Peter chuckles and takes one more photo before tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Come on or we'll be late." He speaks up and the bell rings for class seconds later. You follow him out of the bathroom, walking quickly to chem. You both scoot into the class just in time, the teacher arriving mere seconds later. Sitting down in your seat, you glance to Lara Jean beside you. "What?" You ask, confused why she had her eyebrows raised at you and a smirk on her lips. "Whos hoodie is that y/n, you smell like man." She replies, leaning in to smell you again. "Peter Kavinsky's." You whisper back, taking out your notebook and pencil case. "Wait what?!" Lara Jean says loudly, making a few people turn to look at her. "Sshhh, i know i know," you say in reply to her shocked face, "some guy spilt coffee on my shirt this morning and Peter gave me his hoodie so I didn't have to wear a lost property shirt." Lara Jean looked at you sceptically, not convinced of Peter's motive to help you at all. She couldn't count the number of times Peter had come up to her or texted her asking if you were going to a party or the game or if you fancied anyone. "Sureeee." LJ replied, "I think he just fancies you." You scoffed and chuckled, "no he doesn't Lara Jean, he was just being kind." She gave you a look which said 'really?' before turning back to her work. A few seconds later when you thought you had finally escaped her teasing words she spoke up as she absent mindedly copied a table from the textbook, "yeah that's why he hasn't stopped looking at you since you came in together." At once, you whipped your head around to see Peter looking at you directly, his pen tucked behind his ear and chin resting on his hand. You noticed your white shirt neatly placed on the corner of his lab desk. He grinned at you which made you shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. Peter sighed as he watched you turn back, loving the way his surname looked across your back, wishing he could see you in his hoodies everyday. "That doesn't mean anything." You whispered, not believing Lara Jean's words at all. The rest of the day passed by ever so slowly and you were exhausted by the time you and Lara Jean reached her car. You were having movie night with her and Kitty this evening so she was driving you three home. "Gen's making evil eyes at me across the parking lot." You speak up, leaning on the side of LJ's car while you waited for Kitty. Lara Jean turned round to see Gen standing by the school entrance with some of her friends, watching you with a large scowl on her face. She burst out laughing, turning to her car and unlocking it when she noticed Kitty coming across the parking lot, "Yeah cos she's jealous that Kavinsky has the fattest crush on you." You rolled your eyes at her comment, "Peter doesn't like me Lara Jean." "Yes he does." You hear a voice say and turn back around to see Kitty beaming widely at you, "Nice hoodie you have there y/n, i really like the lettering on the back." You narrow your eyes at her and she grins wider, cheekily scooting inside the backseats before you could attack her. You sighed and walked round to the passenger side, buckling in and putting your bag on the floor by your feet. "Oh crap." You say as LJ pulls onto the main road, "I forgot to give him the hoodie back and he still has my shirt." Kitty bursts out laughing, making you whip round to her, scowling immensely. "Just text him saying you'll give it back to him tomorrow and i'm sure he'll do the same." LJ said, glancing at you with a smirk on her face in the front mirror. You nod and pull your phone out, scrolling down to Peter's contact and texting him, 'sorry kavinsky, is it okay if i give you back your hoodie tomorrow once ive washed it?' A few minutes later, you get a reply, 'yup, same for your shirt.' A second later another text comes through, 'see you tomorrow y/l/n' with a smiley face. You grinned to yourself and listen to the music playing out the car's radio. The following morning, you walk nervously to find Peter, his hoodie folded neatly in your hand after it got washed last night. You spot him standing with Greg by his locker, his hair messy from early morning practice. You smile fondly and walk over to the pair, smoothing out your striped pants. "Oh hey y/n!" Greg says, leaning alongisde Peter's locker. "Morning Greg, sorry I just came to give Peter his hoodie back." Peter turns to you, a wide smile on his face. "Thanks for letting me borrow it yesterday Kavinsky." You say, handing him the soft hoodie back somewhat reluctantly. "No worries, here's your shirt back, my mum managed to get the coffee stain out." You grin at him and your face heats up slightly from Peter's warm gaze. "Oh thanks!" You reply, taking your now clean shirt back. "You know I think you look better in my hoodies." Peter says, tucking his hoodie into his locker and cheekily grinning at you, referencing to the white sweater you are wearing. "Shove off Kavinsky, you're lucky your cute." You retort back, heart hammering and completely oblivious to Greg's amused face watching the both of you gaze longingly at each other. You spot Lara Jean and Chris in the hall ahead so turn to walk away, smiling at Peter and Greg, "See you later Kavinsky." Peter gives you a nod and a cheeky smirk, watching as you walk away. "Dude you're so whipped." Greg states, looking at Peter's love filled face. "Yeh i know." Peter replies, leaning back against his locker, his eyes trained on you.

#peter #peter kavinsky #peter kavinsky imagine #peter kavinsky x reader #kavinsky #tatbilb #tatbilb2 #to all the boys ive loved before icons #to all the boys ive loved before #to all the boys ps i love you #to all the boys #imagine #fluffy #imma puke this is so sweet

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ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing · 3 years

Text

Ven’s Idea Outline #1 (Maribat)

Remember that MariDamiJon fic that I mentioned I was going to do for the gift exchange? It’s still bouncing around in my head and Luka decided to join in so I’ve decided to at least make an outline in (assuredly vain) hopes that it will leave me alone for a bit.

Ao3

Part 1

Typical Daminette but Hanahaki style bc I can’t find any Maribat hanahaki fics and I need one and I can’t find any.

Dick and Damian sent to scope out Paris for Hawkmoth related reasons

Jon goes with bc he’s Damian’s emotional support kryptonian but he might arrive later This idea has been removed but I like it so I will share it.

Damian is getting familiar with the new battlegrounds taking a walk in the park when a girl falls from a tree and lands on top of him

The girl apologizes profusely before explaining that she’s really clumsy and she was just trying to help a kitten stuck in the tree

It’s not love at first sight but Damian appreciates an animal lover and is slightly less of an ass than he would usually be

Might mix this with my Blossom Soulmate AU that I never got around to finishing and posting, now that I think about it

Anyway, Damian helps her get the cat down from the tree

He latches onto this potential information source who is not as annoying as most other people and sticks with her

They become friends friendly acquaintances and he drops by her school to pick up her up after she agreed to show him around Paris.

Debating Lila salt...

Debating Class salt...

If yes: Damian walks into a scene where Marinette and sweeps Marinette away without a word to the rest of her class

If no: Damian arrives and proceeds to wait for her outside by his motorcycle

Either way, his appearance makes waves in Dupont’s rumor mills

They do not know he’s Damian Wayne, just that there’s a dude who attractive enough to be model with a motorcycle waiting for the schools (tragic, if salt) sunshine fashion princess.

Robin and Nightwing meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir to offer their help in figuring out who Hawkmoth is, as well as fighting and training.

Full Miraculous court meeting with Ryuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, Bunnyx, and Monkey king. (Rena Rouge is removed if Class salt. Replaced with Fox!Nath or Fox!Julieka)

Ladybug and Robin get along

About two weeks in Adrien starts officially dating Kagami.

Another week passes and Damian finds out Marinette has been coughing flower petals and her unrequited love is her classmate Adrien Agreste.

She refuses to remove the hanahaki - this version is the standard they can’t fall in love ever again if they remove it.

This revelation makes him oddly uneasy, it isn’t until his own Hanahaki shows up later that night that realizes he understands why.

Damian does a pretty good job of hiding it.

Dick knows something is up but he’s trying to give Damian more space so he doesn’t look into it and trusts Damian would ask him if it’s life threatening

Ladybug notices his discomfort on patrol and they talk

He is surprised to learn Ladybug also has it and Robin comes up with the brilliant idea that they should fall in love with each other.

There is precedent that if you fall out of love with the person, the Hanahaki will go away. But falling out of love is difficult and not easily done. There must be no lingering romantic feelings at all.

Ladybug encourages Robin to chase his crush first, because he at least has a chance if the girl he likes also has it.

Cue the debates

If Ladybug wins: Enter Damian going all out in flirty assassin seduction techniques from his mother - Good Talia that kills rapists, none of that she raped Bruce bs, she actually had a good relationship with Bruce and a mutual breakup because of differing views on killing people - that he’s barely used since his lessons on it in the league and romantic advice from Dick.

He goes full on Bitch-sensei from assassination classroom.

He’s commissioned a shirt from Marinette. She gets to design it however she wants.

It is a long sleeved button up, specifically made to accentuate his muscles without being too revealing.

That’s the shirt he wears when he asks her out with flowers and a stuffed kitten holding a stuffed wood board that says “please date me” He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. Collar and hair ruffled up for maximum sensuality. He’s got a lot of references between all the people he knows (Bruce, Talia, Selina, Dick, and really his whole family is full of objectively attractive, seductive people he can reference. Just as long as he avoids mimicking their failing romantic habits, he should be fine.)

He tries to be suave about it but is a little too nervous to completely pull it off. It doesn’t matter because Marinette finds it endearing.

On the date, he’s more confident and is able to pull off suave bastard much better but only at the end. He’s a gentleman until the very end, when he leaves her in the bakery

He goes in, and twirls her admittedly short hair around his finger, maintaining eye contact as he presses his lips against her hair - it’s admittedly harder than he expected given how short it is but being so close made it more intimate and the blush on her face was definitely worth it

He leaves in the bakery slightly dazed and counts the date as a success.

Marinette’s mind shut down bc damn that boy is fine and smooth af is flustered and confused as heck but she’s willing to give him a shot

Alternatively: Marinette’s not sure about dating Damian because she feels like she’s just using him to get rid of her hanahaki bc of the idea that Robin had proposed.

Dick is ecstatic that Damian was acting weird because he had a crush and loved helping his brother out with this date planning in the city of love

He doesn’t report it back to the batfam yet because they had a small argument about it and Damian pulled away with the small victory of Dick has to wait until after the first date to tell them.

Damian is glad he Marinette’s willing to give him a chance but he’s worried about Ladybug

he wonders if he should set her up with Tim or Duke, it’d be a shame to lose a friend and hero like her.

Robin brings up his success to Ladybug and asks if there’s anything he can do to help her.

She notes that a friend had actually confessed to her and she’s giving them a chance.

They accidentally compare notes on their dates and that’s their reveal.

If Robin wins: An awkward start that smooths into moonlit dates on the Eiffel tower, dancing on rooftops, an increase in flirting but only after battles, never before it bc they have a professional reputation to keep, increasingly physical training routines, stolen kisses but not on lips until they’re more comfortable with each other.

Fast tracked mutual slow burn which kinda defeats the purpose of a slow burn but whatever

I have realized these ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Maybe Ladybug wins first but Damian fails to seduce Marinette because she has the doubts so they go with plan B and date each other. Ladybug is more comfortable with the idea of dating Robin because they both have Hanahaki and are knowingly using each other to get rid of it?

There is no identity reveal in this version

Complaint Break time: I was writing this to get it out but it keeps growing, wtf. This is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the main part.

It was supposed to be an established Daminette but I wanted to show how they got together, this was supposed to be like 5 bullet points, 10 tops.

At some point, I’m going to have to mention the rumor that people with Hanahaki are being kidnapped because the flowers that bloom after their death make great medicine but that cures most illnesses and are good potions ingredient whatever, something along those lines. It’s not the ones they cough up but the flowers that grow on the vines constricting their lungs after until they die and only blossom after death. Those flowers that spread the pollen into the air that makes the Hanahaki disease possible.

That’s why people keep it a secret unless they’re going to get the surgery as there’s not other way to treat it.

But that’s a plot point for part 2.

I feel like this is already longer than anything I’ve put out at this point in time.

Back to the story:

Even though they’re dating, the Hanahaki doesn’t go away immediately. It slows and becomes less frequent but there are times when they think of how their love doesn’t return their feelings and the flowers come back with a vengeance and they’re down for the day, possibly the entire week, hacking up flower petals and buds.

(Ladybug Wins version until otherwise stated) It’s during one of these fits that Dick finds out and is angry at this girl playing with his brother’s feelings.

Damian is too busy hacking up bloody flower petals to correct him

The entire batfam and subsequently Superfam now know the batfam’s youngest has hanahaki

Jon is called in and flies in to help keep an eye on his best friend

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Duke are shocked but they pack up and are ready to go in guns blazing to have a talk with this girl bc the boys might not be on the best terms but that’s their baby brother. The girls stay behind to hold down the fort (because I need more time to get familiar with them before I can confidently write their characters. I’m not too confident about Duke either but I already mentioned him and it’s too late to back out now.)

So, Damian’s brothers and his father track her down to a different park in Paris where Marinette’s hanging out with her friends

They’re incised to find their brother’s girlfriend with another guy’s arm around her, leading her away from the main group of friends

It’s Luka, he’s helping her hide her hanahaki because she assures him that she has it under control and will go with him to the hospital if it becomes too much

They confront the couple

There’s a lot of intimidating posturing and accusations

Batfam is absolutely not prepared for the bloody flowers that spill from her lips - her hanahaki is even worse than Damian’s

Detective bats (correctly or incorrectly, depending on which version happens) put the pieces together and figure they’re dating to get rid of the hanahaki, that is something Damian would absolutely propose

and oh shit, this time it’s not just Bruce that’s adopting someone. They have a little sister now.

Luka explains what he knows about the situation and basically confirms what they’d deduced.

Welp, since they’re here, Hawkmoth has become top priority.

Hawkmoth takes one look at the Miraculous circle and the new set of bats and just- nopes out plus super boy and just nopes out.

Like, he tries but he has no expectation of winning and tries to run instead. It doesn’t work, they have all grounds covered.

I should probably make use of Mayura if I ever do write everything out but she didn’t really leave much of an impression on me tbh and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Maybe if I ever go back and watch it.

Celebratory, on-the-spot kiss between Robin and Ladybug where they do “oh“ and realize the pressure in their chest is finally gone and the Hanahaki is no more.

(Robin Wins) Dick is obliviously happy about little Robin leaving the nest and finding a mate until he finds out both the little heroes coughing up flower petals on their date

then he goes in and mother hens them both, before demanding answers

He’s also less happy about this whole dating thing

Dick can’t do much about Ladybug without revealing her identity but Damian isn’t getting out of it so easily

Dick figures out who Damian’s crushing on and goes to do a little investigating. He is very surprised to see it’s a bubbly, energetic designer girl and not someone... calmer. But then he thinks of Jon and it makes a little more sense

He talks to her, asks about what she thinks of Damian and is pleasantly surprised by her positive view of his brother. He asks if she would go out with him and she coughs up some petals

Now, Dick’s freaking out and why are there so many children with Hanahaki? This is the third one in two days!

fast forward because I’m finally out of ideas for this part

Ladybug knows she’s fallen for Robin, which was the entire point of them dating but she not sure he actually reciprocates or is still trying to forget that other girl.

Or if you went the other way, Robin’s still chasing Marinette but Ladybug now likes Robin and is aware that he’s trying to woo her. So, out of the frying pan and into another for her.

Robin is absolutely having regrets bc he is an emotional wreck and crushing on two girls and this was not supposed to happen, damnit.

A meta gets akumatized and takes out half the miraculous court but turns out the meta’s psychic ability can help track Hawkmoth so its all cool, now that they know what Hawkmoth feels like

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuko, and Robin vs Hawkmoth and Mayura

Nightwing stayed behind to watch the other heroes are no longer brain dead from the battle but boy are they out of it and he has to make sure they get home safe

that does not mean he’s not extremely put out and worried about it since he knows half the team has hanahaki and it may interfere with the fight

Even if the Ladybug suit lessens the hanahaki attacks, they still happen from time to time

For two people who don’t show up to fight often Hawkmoth and Mayura put up a good fight

Ladybug has an hanahaki attack and Hawkmoth tried to take advantage of it, only to get knocked out by Chat Noir who’s still pissed at his dad for causing this whole thing

Chat Noir and Ryuko are pretty shocked Ladybug has hanahaki, even more her timer runs out and she choses to present it to Robin

Robin is shook

He gets it together and pulls her into a kiss that cures their hanahaki and makes their brains melt

Now Marinette’s kinda confused bc what the other girl

Damian, slightly shifting his mask so she can see who he is: That other girl was YOU

Now Marinette’s the one who’s shook

Note: Chat Noir and Ryuko have both de-transformed at this point and are watching with wide eyes but they do not see who is under that mask. Also, no cameras in this section of the manor bc that would be proof.

They have a lot to talk about but it works out in the end.

the outline above was written out of order bc I had to go back everytime a new idea hit and I cannot be bothered to go back and dodeca-check this thing again just to make sure everything makes sense.

Part 2 (that was supposed to be the main story- finally made it, the starting point. I cry.)

Ok, so, now that Daminette is established and the evil is defeated

Damian returns to Gotham with his girlfriend in tow to introduce her to the rest of his family, despite his better judgement

Jon is happy that Damian is in happy, loving relationship but he’s a bit sad that it’s not him and oop, sunshine kryptonian boy got hanahaki’d.

Same for Luka. (Yes, Jagged will be his dad and a Gothamite.)

Jagged and his kids join them in Gotham bc he has to be there to show his favorite designer niece around to all the best places of his hometown.

Luka finds out Jon has Hanahaki and they bond over the experience

They make a pact to cover each other and get the other to the hospital when it gets to that point

Pining/Simping meetings over their best friends that for some unknown reason seem to lessen the flower coughing over time even though these meetings probably make things worse but they also need vent before it increases again.

Luka and Jon beginning to fall for each other but they think the other is still in love with Marinette/Damian and it’s true that they still hold feelings for their best friends that aren’t diminishing in the sleightest and it’s all very confusing.

It’s even more confusing when we add the new hero in Gotham, Viperion who’s there to continue training with the bats since he’s visiting the area, rescues and lightly flirts with Jon who ended up developing a small crush and Jon realizes he has a type.

So, poor Jon’s now crushing on Damian, Luka, and Viperion

Viperion meets Superboy and the kryptonian doesn’t seem to like him?

Luka’s crushing on Marinette, Jon - still doesn’t know that Damian is Robin. And is kinda curious and a little hurt that the Robin’s oddly familiar kryptonian is actively and obviously avoiding him and that heart song is kind of familiar but different.

Viperion also gains a crush on Robin after watching him take down a thug in a very graceful way - the bird was showing off for his bug and decided to make it a little showier, he accidentally also caught a snake

Ladybug and Robin still flirt but the court - aside from Ryuko and Chat, depending on which version - think that’s just their dynamic, though they do pull Robin aside for a bit to tell him she has a boyfriend now. He assured them it’s fine and he knows, oddly amused at their attempt.

man, I am not original with this identity porn thing

It isn’t until Luka sees Jon again that he puts it together.

Marinette suspiciously notes Luka and Jon been hanging out an awful lot she’s making connections to the time she had hanahaki and Luka covered for her

The pains of befriending deductive genii.

Cue the panic and they accidentally claim they’re dating but it throws Marinette off for now, so it kinda worked?

Hanahaki fic with a fake dating AU. Oops.

Mari decides since she and Damian don’t know this, they must have been neglecting their best friends and double dates are the way to go.

Cue more panic

Unlike Marinette who is willing to trust their word, Damian’s a suspicious bastard who’s kind of dubious and a little salty that Jon didn’t tell him earlier if they’re telling the truth but Mari’s all gung ho about it so he lets it go for now

They go on the date and it is an emotional mess for everyone involved

It starts out fine

Jon and Luka act a bit weird because they have to cover for each other randomly coughing up petals, not to mention they’re on a date with their original crushes without actually dating their original crushes not even mentioning their new crushes and the secret identity reveal that Luka still hasn’t confronted Jon on and Jon’s guiltily thinking about Viperion half the time he thinks about Luka and shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Yeah, so they’re a mess

Damian’s watching them like he’s trying to figure them out and it is not helping but thank god Mari’s distracting him totally on accident

Marinette? She found a random lost kid in Gotham looking for their parents

So now the double date’s been temporarily derailed to help the lost kid

While Damian’s watching Marinette try pass the crying kid off to Jon for a moment so she can make a phone call to report a lost child but the kid’s clinging onto Marinette, and they exchange looks so Jon calls in the lost kid instead and he’s just struck with the idea of a family with the three of them and some kids

Cue panic time (again)

Ignoring the thought of children, why was Jon in his fantasy?

Luka’s just watching a smitten boy go into panic mode over the trio and while doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Damian’s head, but that was really cute and oh not again

They find the kid’s parents, and the date moves on

Jon’s more comfortable, Marinette wasn’t really bothered in the first place. Luka and Damian are now having crises

Luka makes a joke under his breath in an attempt to calm down before his Hanahaki acts up

It did not help bc Damian overhears and gives a small amused snort that made his heart stutter but hey positive interaction!

Both Marinette and Jon but end up having feelings very similar to the one Damian had earlier when they look over at Damian and Luka’s little interaction - Damian’s giving Luka a small smirk and Luka is entirely embarassed at being heard when he wasn’t hadn’t meant to be.

But then Luka gives Jon a small sign before he excuses himself to the restroom so Luka can run off and cough up his flower petals

You remember that whole thing about the kidnapping people with hanahaki so they die and medicine and things can be collected from the flowers springing up from their corpse thing? Yeah, the kids are in Gotham and there is definitely a group there that has dealings with the trade and someone saw Luka hacking up flowers

but they mark him and pull back to plan instead of kidnapping him then and there bc drama and Jon followed him to the restroom to check on him

Date ends ok and everyone’s kind of an emotional wreck

Damian has surprisingly learned his lesson on miscommunication and guiltily confides his fantasy to her like a parishioner to his priest

Marinette basically goes same and confesses about the moment she and Jon saw his interaction with Luka.

“So, We’re together, and they’re together...and I might be in love with Jon, you think you might be in love with Luka... What now?“ Damian asked, trying to make sense of it all

“We could...” Marinette swallows, “um, all four of us? together?“ she offered meekly. Seeing that Damian seemed to like the idea, she continued. “Y’know, feel out how receptive they are to the idea and then just seduce them?”

Ok, so the temporary communication skills were nice.

Because instead of talking it out with their best friends, they decide to seduce them but to be fair, there’s at least one version of this where Damian got where he did because of seduction.

Between both Damian and Marinette’s phsyical attractiveness, their combined determination and stubbornness, Damian’s assassin seduction knowledge, and Marinette’s fashion ability and tactical knowledge of where to accentuate what, Jon and Luka have no chance of leaving pining hell for the foreseeable future.

Marinette doubles down on the “double dates” aka, seduction plans in action and group hang outs, aka much more softer, subtle seduction plans

Marinette and Damian do not do much seeing how receptive they are and really just jump right into the seduction, except they adjust the plans so Luka and Jon don’t catch on so Daminette couple thinks it’s ok to go all out.

Cue seduction and pining hijinks, and a whole lot of bloodly flowers and plenty of internal screaming

Damian learns that Luka might not be too bad in the group and Jon is panicking because oh shit he’s got another crush and it’s his best friend’s girlfriend.

the quartet’s love issues are really full circle... or whatever this shape is supposed to be. Because there’s still the whole Viperion/superboy thing and - i just... I’m not going to keep analyzing this.

Somewhere during this, Jon confesses his feelings this particular friend group to Con, leaving out the whole Hanahaki thing. Con tells Tim for advice on being a big brother and things happen but I’m not sure what. I just want TimCon and the Superboys bonding

So a couple weeks pass by the Hanahaki’s getting pretty bad and Luka suddenly goes missing

Ladybug and the bats are on it as soon as they realize he’s gone

Except they are missing one, very important piece of information

Luka’s hanahaki

So, for the next few days, they don’t get anywhere until Jon slips up and ends up coughing up a shitton of bloody flowers which leads to panic, confusion and explanation, bc wtf Jon, you’re supposed to be dating Luka and that’s definitely not unrequited

So everyone gets the full explanation, the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place and the bats are on it.

Marinette and Damian have to put aside that whole revelation in order to track and save Luka before he dies of Hanahaki

They both make sure to kiss Jon first so he doesn’t get handicapped by his hanahaki like Ladybug did but he and Luka will be on thin ice once they get Luka back

So it’s pretty much a race against time bc they don’t know how bad Luka’s hanahaki is

Tracking, beat up bad guys, possible magic related villain(s) searching for potion ingredients that may take harm Superboy more than than if they weren’t there

They rescue Luka or Luka and Ssass break out as Viperion and meet them halfway.

Hey, the identity reveals!

Either way, at the end of it, Luka ends up with Ladybug and the unconscious and they have to wait until he wakes up to administer the kiss/cure bc it doesn’t work if one party is unconscious

which sparks an interesting idea of a sleeping beauty-cinderella style hanahaki fic where it would work if they’re unconscious, and the patient has to find go out to find who cured them and I’ll have to adjust some other rules of the hanahaki disease such as who can cure it but goddamn it

So while Luka’s out, Marinette and Damian confront the possibly injured but very much awake Jon

Once Luka wakes up and is brought up to speed, they take care of his hanahaki and work out the new boundaries of their new relationship

Part one is longer and I’m a bit put out by that. This made much more sense in my head but if you got this far, my rambling must have made some sort of sense.

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365days365movies · 3 years

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Western August I: Stagecoach (1939) - Recap and Review

Let’s start at the beginning...almost,

The Western arguably was born with the 1903 film, The Great Train Robbery. This 12-minute short film is a classic, and one of the earliest achievements in film-making. It’s also, unsurprisingly, a Western, and based on an actual train robbery. At the time it was made, the Wild West had only really ended a few years prior, with its heyday being about 40 years past. Which, yeah, is CRAZY. People who remembered the Wild West lived into the 1950s and ‘60s. It seems like so long ago, and it was, but it was still relatively recent from a historical standpoint.

From then, the Western remained a staple of cinema, and would be so for over half a century. And then, enter John Ford. Born in 1894, the Irish American director began his career in 1914 as an assistant and handyman, often working with his older brother Francis. Eventually, John took his place as a director, starting with silent films, especially westerns. Starting with the very successful film The Iron Horse in 1924, he quickly rose to stardom. He transitioned from silent films to talkies pretty effortlessly, and continued his streak. All the while, he was also one of the first directors to have a roster of actors in his company. You know how Tim Burton always uses Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter? Or how the Coen Brothers always use Frances McDormand and John Goodman? Or Wes Andersen with Bill Murray and Owen Wilson? Yeah, that started with John Ford and...ugh...

Before I start...fuck John Wayne.

Dude was a racist homophobic asshole, and absolutely a dick. Look it up, or don’t if you’d rather not have one of cinemas most iconic faces completely ruined for you. But OK, outside of that one time that he said that the Native Americans were “selfishly trying to keep the land for themselves”, or that he believed in white supremacy over uneducated blacks...yeah, he’s a DICK...

Marion Robert Morrison was born in Iowa in 1907, and began his film career after becoming injured while surfing without a surfboard and ending his football career. Yes, really. His football coach was a friend of a film director named John Ford, who hired Morrison as a favor to him. Said football coach was also friends with an actual remnant of the Old West: WYATT FUCKING EARP. YEAH.

For years, Morrison was a bit player until starring in the film The Big Trail in 1930, a Western directed by Raoul Walsh. And he wasn’t exactly famous after this, but it was with this film that he took up a screen name: John Wayne, after a Revolutionary War general, Anthony Wayne, and...well, the name John. Anthony sounded too Italian. Yes, really. After this movie, Wayne continued to star in more Westerns, and even became one of the first film cowboys to sing on camera.

And then, 1939 came along, and John Ford came to him with a new film project. Being a classic Western, the film was about a group of settlers riding on a stagecoach together through the West. Strangers to each other, they find themselves attacked by a group of Native Americans belonging to the Apache tribes. This film, an adaptation of a 1939 short story, would come to be known as Stagecoach. And it would launch Ford, Wayne, and the Western genre into a Golden Age. So no more navel-gazing, let’s get started!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

I get reminded that I haven’t watched a Criterion Collection film in a while, and the film begins with a rousing Western theme, courtesy of...holy shit, this movie has SEVEN COMPOSERS? Well, OK, courtesy of somebody in that list of seven. From there, we cut to a camp somewhere in the Arizona Territory in 1880. Which, again, is only 60 years prior to this film’s release date. There, a group of men discuss the danger imposed on them by the Apache, stirred up by the legendary warrior Geronimo.

And from there, we go to the town of Tonto, where stagecoach driver Buck (Andy Devine) lets a group of passengers out. One of these passengers is Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), there to catch another shuttle to meet her husband in Dry Fork, New Mexico. However, the stagecoach gains an extra passenger in the form of the Marshal, Curley Wilcox (George Bancroft), who goes to find an outlaw also in Lordsburg.

The passenger list builds with the addition of Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell) and Dallas (Claire Trevor), a drunk and a prostitute both driven out of town by the Law and Order League of Women, due to social stigma affecting them both. In a bar getting a farewell drink, Doc meets yet one more passenger, Samuel Peacock (Donald Meek), a whiskey salesman that Doc is glad to meet. Meanwhile, banker Henry Gatewood (Berton Churchill) also boards the vehicle, under mysterious circumstances.

Friends of Lucy are worried with her travelling a drunk and a prostitute (the ABSOLUTE SCANDAL), but she needs to visit her husband in Dry Fork. As she leaves, she meets eyes with the dangerous but enigmatic gambler Hatfield (John Carradine). And before they’re able to leave altogether, the carriage is stopped by the army, who warn them of the Apache and Geronimo. All of the passengers refuse to get off, and YET TWO MORE passengers board to protect the carriage: the Marshal and Hatfield. And finally, they’re off! But as they head out, they’re stopped when they encounter a recently escaped outlaw.

This is The Ringo Kid (John Wayne), who just got out of prison. The Marshal sees him, and takes him into custody on the way to Lordsburg, where they plan to drop him off into jail. And yes, he’s put on the fucking stagecoach. In total, we have Buck, the Marshal, Lucy, Hatfield, Doc, Peacock, Gatewood, and the Ringo Kid. Jesus, that’s a crowded-ass carriage, even if two of them are outside of it. Hell, Ringo’s sitting on the fuckin’ floor!

Anyway, the group interacts and introduces themselves. We learn that Doc once patched up Ringo’s brother, and was discharged from the Union Army for drunkenness. We learn that Hatfield is a true southern gentleman, and a veteran of the Confederate army (much to Doc’s ire), and that Ringo’s brother was murdered under mysterious circumstances.

The group gets to Dry Forks, currently under occupation by the army. Said army had accompanied them (outside of the carriage, thank God) to Dry Forks, and are staying there to guard against the Apache. Meanwhile, Lucy’s dismayed to find that her husband isn’t in fact there. This leads to the debate of whether or not the party should go back to Tonto, or head onwards to Lordsburg. Buck wants to go back to Tonto, as does Peacock, while literally everybody else wants to go to Lordsburg. And so, they continue onwards.

Before heading onwards, the group sits for dinner, during which Ringo is the only one to show any form of kindness to Dallas, as everybody else looks down on her for prostitution. Shit, man, they won’t even sit near her at the table. Jesus. Unfortunately, Dallas is used to this cruel treatment, and it allows her to bond with Ringo in her loneliness. Once again, character interactions reveal things about our cast. Lucy is feeling quite ill, and Hatfield reveals that he served under her father in the Confederate Army.

And from there, the coach continues on through the desert. Buck and the Marshal argue about letting Ringo free, as he aims to continue his feud with the outlaw Luke Plummer and his brothers, despite the fact that he’ll likely be killed by them. It’s for this reason that the Marshal wants to keep Ringo in his custody, as he was good friends with his father and doesn’t want to see him killed by the dangerous Plummers, whom Buck thinks should be taken down regardless.

Inside the coach, the banker reveals that he’s literally a Republican from 2016 (he rants about small government, and claims that a businessman should be President, holy shit), while people keep treating Dallas like shit, except for Ringo. They go through a cold mountain pass, which isn’t great for Lucy for some reason. It’s actually quite rough on everyone. Except for Doc Boone, who keeps drinking Peacock’s whiskey samples, which is hilarious.

Finally, the group makes it to the next stop, Apache Wells. There, Lucy discovers that her husband has been severely wounded in a battle with the Apache, and she falls faint. Despite being absolutely SMASHED, Doc sobers up to help her, with the help of Ringo and the Marshal. Meanwhile, Dallas watches over her, despite the rancor that Lucy’s tossed at her this whole time.

The group stays the night, attended to by Chris (Chris Pin-Martin) a Mexican man who’s married to Yakima (Elvira Rios), an Apache woman who...is played by a Mexican singer. Huh. I mean...it’s still technically redface, unfortunately. But then again, the attitude towards Native American actors at this time was...oh boy. And the portrayal of the Mexicans in the camp aren’t exactly great, as a group of them steal the group’s spare horses, meaning that they only have one set of horses to use from here on out.

But amongst the unpleasant is a pleasant surprise, and the reveal of the cause for Lucy’s mysterious condition: she’s pregnant. Or rather, she was, as the baby’s just been delivered, and is being held by Dallas. As the group celebrates, Chris warns Ringo to stay away from Lordsburg, as the Plummers will kill him. But Ringo has something else on his mind.

See, on seeing Dallas with the baby, he finds himself quite in love with her. He finds her outside, and tells her that his father and brothers were killed by the Plummers. In turn, she reveals that her family was massacred on the real-life Superstition Mountain. Their conversation ends in Ringo proposing to Dallas, which she protests to because of her mysterious past.

The next morning, Yakima’s left with Chris’ horse and rifle, and the group worry that she’s gone to tell the Apache. After Gatewood panics about his mysterious valise being possibly stolen, the group packs up and readies themselves to go. But Lucy is, of course, still ill from literally giving birth hours ago. Things are still tense between Lucy and Dallas, despite Dallas taking care of her the entire fucking night. Jesus, lady, that high horse is looking uncomfortable, you should get off it.

Dallas has something else to worry about, as she’s thinking on Ringo’s proposal. She consults with the doctor, who reminds her of her mysterious and checkered past being revealed if she goes. But she doesn’t seem to care, and she decides to accept the proposal. As for the rest, Gatewood’s freakin’ the fuck out. Because of Lucy’s condition, the doctor requests that they don’t leave until a day later. And Gatewood doesn’t give a single shit, as the Apache are close enough. Still, the party decides to stay, at Hatfield’s added insistence.

Ringo and Dallas talk, with Dallas both warning him of the Plummers, and also accepting his proposal. The men are all still arguing about whether or not they should leave, and they note that the Apache are likely between them and their destination. Ringo then takes the opportunity to escape and ride to Lordsburg for revenge on the Plummers. But he stops when he sees smoke signals on the hill. The Apache are coming.

No more waiting, it’s time to GO. Taking the still recovering lady and her newborn child Coyote into the stagecoach, they take off into the desert. Gatewood continues to run his loudmouth, to the ire of Hatfield and Ringo. And Peacock, to my delight, shows some kindness and “Christian charity” to Dallas, as she holds Coyote during the ride. And after all, they’re almost at the ferry!

Ah, shit, the ferry! Looks like the ferry, and the entire town of Lee’s Ferry have been burned. And if they ford the river, all of their supplies could be flooded, or the oxen could drown! Or worse, dysentery could set in! That’s what The Oregon Trail taught me! And yet, despite this, that’s actually EXACTLY what they do! And unlike me literally every time I’ve every tried to cross a river without a ferry, they make it through fine! Realistic educational games my ASS!

But it’s not entirely safe, as the group are being watched by none other than the Apache, who make their way down to intercept the group. In the carriage, meanwhile, the group is thankful that they’ve made their way from danger, and even Gatewood relaxes a little. Doc Boone makes a toast, and everyone seems to be getting along for once.

OH FUCK, PEACOCK GOT HIT!

The girlfriend IMMEDIATELY SAYS, “Now he really is Drew Peacock.” I leave and get boba to soothe my injured spirit from that well-timed joke. And then, the movie continues, and the chase is on! The Apache chase the stagecoach through the desert, and the groups trade gunshots and arrows, with Ringo shooting from the back. Gatewood panics so hard that Doc Boone punches him and IMMEDIATELY knocks him out, as he attends to Peacock’s injuries.

But despite their best efforts, the Apache group catches up to them, although many of them are killed by Ringo, the Marshal, Doc, and Hatfield. In the process, Buck is also shot, and Ringo literally jumps ON THE FUCKING HORSES, and commands them from the front like a goddamn badass. Things begin to get worse, as everybody in the stagecoach runs out of ammo, at the worst possible time. Hatfield only has one bullet remaining, and he considers using it...to kill Lucy! Holy fuck!

And just as he’s about to fire IN HER FUCKING FACE, the sounds of horns ring out as the cavalry arrives. And Hatfield, dick that he is, is shot. I think he was trying to spare her the indignity of being captured by the Apache, but Jesus, man! He collapses, and reveals that his father is a judge in Virginia before he...either passes out or dies, I’m not sure. The group finally gets to Lordsburg, where it turns out that Lucy’s husband is gonna be OK, and wasn’t severely injured. She tanks Dallas for everything that she’s done, and promises to help her should she ever need assistance. Good, finally, the lady needs a goddamn break.

The stagecoach rides through the busy town, and the arrival of the Ringo Kid gets the attention of Luke Plummer (Tom Tyler), who fetches his brothers Hank (Vester Pegg) and Ike (Joe Rickson). Time to get ready for a showdown, it seems. Dallas seems to know this, and goes to Ringo after the living Peacock (yay!) and the not-so-living Hatfield (oof) are brought in for medical help.

Buck’s also OK, but Gatewood isn’t. See, that valise he was carrying was actually full of money, and he had embezzled it from his own bank. He had counted on telegraph lines being down, so that he could escape with his ill-gotten gains, but has no such luck, and is led away in handcuffs! HA!

Ringo, meanwhile, is set to kill Luke Plummer and his brothers. The Marshal lets him escape, and promises to get Dallas safely down to a little ranch he owns in the South. Dallas and Ringo walk off together, and Dallas tries to get him to leave and say goodbye before he goes to his death, and before he finds out about her past (presumably as a prostitute).

See, they’re actually walking up to a brothel, where Dallas is going to stay and work. Because, yeah, she’s a prostitute. Sucks that she’s been so maligned, because prostitution fuckin’ BUILT the Old West! I guess it’s easier to see that with historical context. As Ringo finds out the truth about Dallas (which he might’ve known all along), he still insists upon marrying her...and upon killing the Plummers.

Doc, meanwhile, goes to the bar where the Plummers are waiting. He tells them that he’ll get them arrested, and Luke swears to come back for him after their business with Ringo is concluded. The brothers head outside, ready for the final showdown. It’s 3 on one, Plummers against Ringo. Ringo fires! A few more shots...then silence. And Dallas mourns.

Except that Ringo wins the fight, and goes back to her! A happy ending! I’m sure that’ll be pretty goddamn rare this month. The Marshal arrives to take Ringo away, and Ringo goes as promised. She asks to ride with him a bit, and the Marshal agrees. He and Doc watch them get on, then cause the horses of the carriage to stampede away, letting Ringo and Dallas escape into the desert, together. And that’s the end!

Y’know...I liked it! I really liked it!

This movie is often referred to as the greatest Western of all time, and the reason that the Western survived into the next several decades. And honestly, I get it! It was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, and won for Best Supporting Actor (Thomas Mitchell, AKA Doc) and Best Original Score, both of which were quite deserved!

Review time!

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Sure, it’s a little hokey. But at the same time, it’s good classic Hollywood acting! Wayne, Trevor, Mitchell, Carradine, and Devine are standouts for me, all of which serving their roles well. Also, fun fact about Andy Devine: he’s the voice of Friar Tuck in Disney’s Robin Hood! KNEW I recognized that voice!

Plot and Writing - 10/10: Standard plot? Sure. Engaging as hell? Hell yeah! This is just a good story, plain and simple. No holes, no problems, no mistakes, and purely straightforward. Great writing by the original story author, Ernest Haycox, and great screenplay by Dudley Nichols!

Directing and Cinematography - 10/10: Great looking movie, too! All credit to John Ford, unsurprisingly. Cinematographer Bert Glennon also deserves credit for the beautiful landscape shots throughout. Gogeous film, even in black-and-white!

Production and Art Design - 8/10: This is pretty standard Western production design, so not a lot to write home about specifically. However, that doesn’t mean it’s bad. To the contrary, it’s quite good! Just does stand out to me quite as much as other movies. Might be a nitpick, but it’s still something against the film.

Music and Editing - 10/10: No complaints! Seven composers definitely make their presence known, and you can tell that this score heavily informed all Western scores after it. It’s iconic, and it’s perfect for the mood. As for the editing by Otho Lovering and Dorothy Spencer...it’s great! Perfect pacing, well-edited...no complaints whatsoever.

94%, and I had fun with this one!

I honestly did have quite a good time with this one. I can’t really call it a “fun” movie, but it definitely is a good one. Plus, it’s a John Ford/John Wayne film, which is basically a staple of the genre. So, what’s next?

Next: My Darling Clementine (1946), dir. John Ford

#stagecoach #stagecoach 1939 #john ford #claire trevor #john wayne #andy devine #john carradine #thomas mitchell #george bancroft #apache #western august #365 days 365 movies #365 movie challenge #western genre #user365 #usersasha #my gifs #mygifs

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 2

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

It’s now the end of Damian’s first week in Paris, and everything is ready for him to transfer into Francois Dupont. He really thought he had dodged the pointless education bullet by coming to France, but of course his father wouldn’t let that slip. However, if he has to continue getting an education he doesn’t need, he will at least get something productive done during the hours of his experience; he will explore the so-called akuma class that he has read up about. One Caline Bustier’s class, the same class that the Ladyblogger is in. The same class that Marinette is in.

He hopes it’s the same as it was in Gotham, or at least similar enough. He expects his reception to be a little different, since his last name has been changed to Grayson to avoid any unwanted attention. Maybe this means that his classmates won’t try to talk to him solely for the purpose of connecting to his family. That doesn’t mean that he wants to talk to any of them. Unless they’re all like Marinette; his brief interactions with her have been bearable, bordering on pleasant. He doubts her class will be similar, though, judging by the quick sweep that he does on all of the student’s social media accounts and the hours that he’s spent on the Ladyblog. From what he has gleaned, the social situation in the akuma class leaves much to be desired. Lila Rossi, who appeared on the Ladyblog multiple times two years ago in rather ridiculous interviews that have since been taken down, seems to be the crux of the class currently. The rest of the class, other than Marinette, who hasn’t appeared in most of the group pictures that her classmates take for the past two years, seem to have little common sense.

When he walks into the classroom, there is a huddle around Lila Rossi, who sits near the front of the classroom and looks astonishingly bored as her classmates talk to her. The members of the class don’t even look up at him when he comes in, instead looking at Lila with almost cult-like devotion, despite the awful shade of lipstick that did not look good on her-- seriously, who wore orange lipstick on a day to day basis? He spares them a moment of observation, decides that he’s not going to get along with his classmates at all, then takes a seat in the back. There is only one desk that has both seats empty-- or is at least currently unoccupied, judging by the lack of items on it. The desk in question is near the back of the classroom next to an exit. He prefers this to sitting in the front, at least.

Right before class starts, a girl drops into the seat next to him, the one that’s closer to the aisle instead of the exit, but the way that she pauses for a moment makes him think that she typically sits where he is, now.

“Damian?”

What luck. Marinette is his seat partner. One of the only people in Paris that he’s talked to that seems to be fairly tolerable. With the added bonus of her being fairly intelligent and able to hold her own. There isn’t much more that he could ask for in a seatmate.

He is confused as to how such a girl is still in this seemingly god-awful class, but small blessings. He’s not going to complain about having Marinette by his side.

“Oh, you must be the transfer from America.” She pulls out a binder from her bag, sends a quick glance sent to Lila, then settles into her chair. Lila sends Marinette a look that Damian can’t quite decipher, but it’s not unfriendly. “If you want to get acquainted with the school, you can ask Lila or Alya. Lila’s the one with orange lipstick and green eyes. Alya’s the one in plaid with glasses. They’re the class president and deputy this year.”

Damian takes a few more moments to observe the class dynamics, particularly how Lila and Alya interact with those around them. The former holds a blonde boy that Damian is fairly sure is Adrien Agreste, and while he seems accustomed to having Lila hang off his arm, he doesn’t exactly look comfortable either. Lila’s eyes unsettle Damian. They look eerily similar to his mother’s, though there is much less ill intent held within them. Alya looks spineless and clingy, clearly uneducated about topics that she brings up one after another. He can’t hear what they are saying clearly from this distance, but he is certain that the small blonde girl was asking Lila to tell the story of how she saved Jagged’s kitten one more time, even though that story’s years old because Lila’s just so humble and modest and amazing. Surprisingly, Lila turns down the girl’s request, and continues to barely interact with her classmates while she continues to hold onto Adrien’s arm.

Jagged as in Jagged Stone, Damian assumes, and though he’s no fan himself, factoids about the rock star’s life have been shoved down his throat by Tim and Dick for the past five years, so how the hell could he not know that a) the star’s manager was deathly allergic and b) the star said that Fang was the best pet that could ever be and he could never want for anything more.

“You can tour me around instead.” To be completely honest, he doesn’t need a tour around the school at all; Damian did do reconnaissance before starting this mission. He knows the school’s layout like the back of his hand after pouring over maps and information about Francois Dupont. However, he is particularly interested in the dynamics of the akuma class, and he might as well get insider information while he still can.

Marinette looks at Damian appraisingly. “I don’t know about that, Damian. Lila and Alya are fine at giving tours. You’d be in capable hands.”

“Hands capable of what?” Damian can’t imagine that Lila’s claws are good for anything except skewering people who tried to disprove her seemingly outlandish tales. He almost feels bad for Adrien, then thinks better of it; he doesn’t seem that uncomfortable with Lila, he just doesn’t seem to like her hand on his arm.

Marinette laughs, softly, focusing on the group. She moves her mouth so little that if anyone looks, it will appear as though he is talking to her without response. “Very funny. Seriously, if you want a tour, ask Lila or Alya. I’m really not the best person for the job.”

The teacher comes into the room, and the students slowly disperse back into their seats.

When lunch comes around, Marinette packs her stuff up and gets out of the classroom so quickly, he wonders if she’s not some sort of athlete.

“You’re Damian, the transfer from America!” Lila puts a manicured hand on his arm, and Damian almost thinks that he sees her lick his lips as his forearm flexes at the unexpected contact. He restrains himself from his initial thought to deck her, but barely.

He takes a deep breath and gets his disgust under control. He can control himself. Alfred and Dick have spent years ensuring that he knows what a normal reaction is to someone touching him. When his eyes aren’t seeing red anymore, he turns his attention back to the hand on his arm. Her nails are the same garish orange as her lips, and it’s the case of the chicken and the egg all over again. No matter which came first, though, the color looks bad on both. Jason will say that Damian can’t criticize the girl because of his own awful sense of color coordination, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t have any color in his wardrobe besides his Robin suit.

“Come, sit with us.” Orange’s voice is nauseatingly fake.

Damian doesn’t outright refuse, but he does shake off the girl’s hand. She feels too similar to Talia up close. Her eye shape is eerily similar. She must be manipulative and cunning to have such a hold on the class. But, he might as well see exactly what the akuma class is all about.

He is escorted into the cafeteria, pushed next to Adrien, then given a lunch tray that has foods that look decidedly less than nutritious and possibly stale. At Gotham Academy, the food was always prepared by the best, so this is unusual for him.

“My name is Adrien. It’s nice to meet you.” Damian thinks the blond boy is nice enough, but he sounds tired and worn out.

Moments later, Lila comes back from the bathroom and squeezes herself between Damian and Adrien, looping her arm through Adrien’s and then attempting to do the same with Damian. But his arms are so tightly at his side, that it’s impossible for her to wiggle her hand through. Damian is glad that he trained himself to eat with both hands, and quickly takes up a fork with his left. Her laugh is high and breathy, like she’s changed her voice to sound different.

He has to say that it feels disgusting, because it feels like she’s treating him as some sort of arm candy. For the first time in his life, he actually thinks about his gender and is very glad that he was born a boy. Had he been born a girl, there is no doubt that this kind of situation may have happened more often; Damian knows he’s attractive. His mother and father both have very good genes both look wise and talent wise.

Not even ten minutes go by, and Damian sees why Marinette high-tailed it out of the classroom so quickly. He wishes that he went with her instead, though he gets the feeling that he isn’t welcome to do so.

The stories that Lila weaves for her life as of late are more convincing than the ones that his classmates have told him of her heroic deeds in the past. Damian can almost believe that they’re true-- helping out with food drives, volunteering with the Red Cross occasionally-- but he doubts the validity of any statement that comes from her mouth after finding the cache of interviews from three years ago. She’s focusing more on friends, she says as she tries to catch his arm again. She leans closer, and Damian can smell the floral perfume on her so strongly that it makes him nauseous. His mother never wore perfume. Nobody from the League of Assassins did. Perfume is something that’s traceable. After he was introduced to Gotham City, all of the women he came into contact with rarely wore perfume and when they did, it certainly wasn’t this floral fruity-fresh fragrance that Lila was drenched in.

She leans on him, and Damian’s pretty sure by the curve of the girl’s smirk and the glint in her eyes that he’s supposed to find the slight touch of her cleavage on his arm attractive. This paltry attempt at seduction is laughable. Even as a nine year old, his mother had him training against attacks like these. He was taught never to give into lust, and after living in a family like the Waynes, girls and boys alike threw themselves at him. If he wants a relationship, physical or otherwise, he can have one. He certainly doesn’t want a relationship with this Lila Rossi. Still, he doesn��t see why she has so much control over the classroom and certainly doesn’t see why Marinette is so excluded from their class.

It’s the longest hour of his life, but Damian makes it through and nearly flees for the safety of the back seat in the classroom. Nearly, but not quite.

By the time Damian gets into the room, Marinette is already sitting at the desk again. She looks up, looks at Lila who has looped her arm with Adrien’s and is smiling at Damian like a cat who got the cream. Damian reads sadness and maybe a touch of concern when she looks at Adrien.

“Lunch was awful.”

“Was it.” It’s phrased like it should be a question, but it doesn’t sound like Marinette is curious.

“You could have told me.”

Her lips purse. She’s copying notes from the last class over again, making them neater and more organized. “That’s not my place.”

“You’re my seat partner.”

“So?”

“Somehow, you seem a lot more morally righteous when you’re out on the streets.”

“That’s different. Paris is Paris; class is class. There’s a time and place for everything.”

From the cacophony near the front rises Lila’s high pitched voice. Damian thinks that she’s modulated it in order to seem more innocent, more believable. “Oh, Adrien, I’m so happy that we’re going to have dinner together with your father tonight.”

Marinette’s eyes raise from her paper. They search for Adrien. Adrien, whose shoulders are hunched in a way that speaks of tiredness and defeat. Adrien, who has eye bags that even concealer cannot fix. Adrien, who looks down at his hands and refuses to meet Marinette’s eyes and their soft, sad questions.

Slowly, Marinette’s eyes lower. She blinks at her paper, then continues copying her notes.

At the very least, Damian is glad that he’s sitting back here with the only sane person in this class. It isn’t like Damian is here to make friends anyways. It might have been helpful, but he doesn’t need other people’s help. He can manage on his own.

Scratch that, he could not manage.

Damian now understands why Hawkmoth had not been captured even though it had been three years since his appearance. Magic is really annoying.

He reports back to the Justice League that yes, the reports were true and no, he did not think it was a good idea to send anyone in yet and yes, he would continue to work on reconnaissance and figuring out who Hawkmoth was.

Despite three more akuma attacks(of increasing intensity) and hours prowling the internet, clues about Hawkmoth’s identity are few and far between. Early on in his mission brief, he was encouraged to not make contact with the Paris superheroes unless the situation got really bad and not to go patrolling the rooftops as Robin at all. They didn’t want to destress the Parisian heroes who had, at first, asked them for help, and then pleaded with them to not send anybody. All of the lack of information and lack of action gave him undue stress, more so than when he was back in Gotham. At least back there, the high stress situations he encountered would promptly be worked off by fighting a villain, sparring his brothers, or patrolling. He can’t do any of that here.

The coffee he ordered finally arrives, and he downs it in one shot, surveying the streets in front of him. Parisians are weird. His classmates have one collective brain cell that resides with the orange monstrosity, Lila, and the people he meets on the streets are way too open and friendly for people who have been terrorized by a supervillain for three years. They should be more like the citizens of Gotham-- keeping their heads down, minding their own business. Instead, he’s been approached by countless people as he wandered around the city-- unsurprisingly, mostly from girls sent by a larger pack in attempts to get his number or ask him on a date-- and also by random people who want to cheer him up. What kind of person tries to cheer up random people on the streets? Apparently it’s something that many Parisians have taken to doing, in attempts to prevent more akumas. Damian doesn’t think it’s very successful on that part, and is more just an excuse for people who want to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

Marinette is the only Parisian who was better than decent at holding her own Damian’s seen so far; in the past week, he’s stopped three bag snatchers, two stalkers, and two random fights. It’s surprisingly lively for a city that is plagued by a villain who takes advantage of strong emotions. He asks one of the people he saves why this is so.

“Well, it’s been three years. For the first year, yes, we very much lived in fear. But Ladybug and Chat Noir always come to save the day, and they told us that holding in our emotions is even more unhealthy.” This, a man he saved from his stalker. “That talk came after they fought off a stream of very strong akumas that totalled the city, all because they had been repressing their emotions until the breaking point.”

That is useful information. It definitely explains why the city is the way it was, though with the number of tourists that Paris has, he’s surprised that this hasn’t become headlining news internationally. He finds a few threads on Twitter talking about it, but most people are convinced it’s some ongoing stunt for attention. Apparently there’s a movie out about Ladybug and Chat Noir? Damian knows that Mayor Bourgeois put an initial block on information about the akumas from getting out, but that shouldn’t have stopped the Justice League from getting their hands on information about the situation in Paris. However, the teams that have been looking into the situation since they found out have had very little luck finding anything other than conspiracy theories. If Damian hadn’t seen an akuma battle with his own eyes, he’d have thought he was sent on a wild goose chase.

Damian feels a cross of pity for the Parisian superheroes and a brief moment of anger at Hawkmoth. From what he’s gathered, the Ladybug and Chat Noir are largely on their own. In that first year, there were a few other heroes in the mix-- a fox, a bee, a dragon, and a snake-- but their appearances became sparse and after a mass akumatization, they never appeared again. Ladybug and Chat Noir definitely stepped up their game in that second year, with Ladybug taking the lead so strongly that Damian isn’t sure that he can call them a pair of superheroes.

Sure, the battles end more quickly with Chat Noir there, but there are plenty of occasions where he doesn’t show up at all and other fights where he stays out of the battle entirely. Oftentimes, in the second year, both heroes looked extraordinarily tired and peaky. Then, something had changed, and Ladybug no longer seemed to be bothered. That was when Chat Noir started staying out of more and more battles, and the few times that he showed up, he always ran off first. Their media appearances, which had been rather heavy in the first year, dwindled down to a few periodic and important announcements. Other than that, they never gave more interviews to smaller blogs, like the Ladyblog. He has to say that he’s not surprised; even though Alya has taken them down, Lila’s interviews were still riddled with lies and she had posted them. Ladybug must have felt that the blog's integrity decreased.

All of this meaningless information leads him nowhere. The Ladyblog and several other news sources have contemplated Hawkmoth’s identity and purpose, but they all seem far fetched. Motivations include everything from world destruction to believing that this is all just a ploy to get Ladybug and Chat Noir media attention. There’s not even any concrete conclusion on Hawkmoth’s gender, though the majority opinion holds that he is a man.

He sees Marinette from the coffee shop windows. It’s amazing that this girl seems to be everywhere all at once. She always ends up near the akuma attacks, but he never spots her during them, which is curious. There’s only so many reliable places to hide. Today, she’s facing down some adult while holding a child behind her. The lady looks furious, red-faced and spittle flying. In contrast, Marinette looks calm and cold, and addresses the woman cordially, though not with respect.

A crowd gathers, but as in all things that might be dangerous, they form at a distance, with phone cameras at the ready. Damian joins them and watches the situation unfold.

“He’s my child. I get to decide how to discipline him.” The lady is wearing an expensive looking suit that is a little over the top. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her handbag costs at least two thousand dollars.

“Even if he is your child, that doesn’t mean you can hurt him like this. Mademoiselle, I suggest that we go to the police station now.”

“I don’t have time for that. This brat already cost me an hour of my time to pick him up from school because he was misbehaving, and I have to get to the office now.” The lady hisses, draws closer, ready to push Marinette and grab her child. Marinette side steps, pulling the child behind her.

“You’re a mother. Make time for your child. We are going to the police station, Mademoiselle, or I will call the police here.”

“I am one of the head managers of Silverstein and Company’s Paris branch. You are just a teenager. You have no place arguing with me over parenting tactics.”

“I am only a teen,” Marinette conceded, “But even a child knows when something is wrong and should be stopped. And abusing your child, Mademoiselle, is very clearly wrong.”

Marinette brings out her phone-- she must have the station on speed dial. Now, the woman approaches Marinette with a heavy hand, ready to slap her. The kid is hiding behind Marinette and quivering, very much afraid of his mother. He’s holding Marinette’s hand so tightly that Damian can see her fingertips have begun to turn blue.

Damian figures this is as good a time as any to intervene, so he puts himself between Marinette and the lady. Marinette backs up a little more, bends down to the kid and pats his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” Marinette says to the kid soothingly. She seems like the type to babysit. Good with kids, creative enough to keep them out of trouble, but with enough of a backbone to make sure they grow up right.

The police show up in record time, and Damian wonders whether Marinette has Special Privileges that make officers show up more quickly. It would make sense, since she always seems to be getting people out of trouble. Too bad she seems too much on the side of the law to ever become a vigilante. The world could use more people like her, active in helping others.

The four of them are instructed to go the police precinct; the woman says that she’ll take her car, and looks expectantly at her child, thinking that he’ll come with her. Marinette pushes the boy even further out of the woman’s view and meets the lady with a glare.

“Do you mind if we ride with you in the back, Officer?”

The three of them pile into the back of the cruiser, and Damian feels like this is some sort of twisted irony. He’s sent many a villain to jail, but he himself has never been in the back of such a police car. In the back of a high security one, once, when he was on an infiltration mission, but the back of such a normal one? Never. It’s an interesting experience to say the least; there’s mesh between the officer and themselves, and no way to get out from the back themselves. It’s also decidedly hot in the back, with plastic seats and no air conditioning.

Marinette is cooing at the child now, who is gripping her hand only slightly less tightly. “Don’t worry, Renee, we’re going to make sure that you don’t get hit like that again.”

The kid’s eyes are glassy, then he’s all tears, and he’s crying into Marinette’s shirt. She just pats him on the back, slowly, and lets him cry it out. It’s very different from the approach that Batman, the Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin take with their victims. Most times, they just let the victims be ushered wherever the police need then to be, and then, they never see them again. Damian justifies this with the fact that fundamentally vigilantes and regular people are different. It makes sense that Marinette has a more human touch to her. She’s not wearing a bodysuit. It’s all Marinette, and that makes the whole situation more powerful.

It only takes a few more moments for the boy to cry himself to sleep.

“I want to file with Child Protection Services.” Her voice is soft, low. She speaks carefully so as not to wake the kid up.

“Yes, we should file with CPS, but if this is just a one time thing there’s not really much that we can do about this.” The officer sounds sad, like he’s dealt with situations like this before.

“As long as we have proof that this isn’t a one time thing, we can make sure that Renee doesn’t go back with her unless he wants to?” There’s a flash of steel determination in Marinette’s eyes, and it almost makes Damian uncomfortable. It’s the look Barbara gets when one of them get really badly injured.

“Yes, but that kind of proof is hard to get.”

“I see,” she says, like she really does see all of the situation and knows exactly what needs to happen next. She says it like she’s going to make Renee’s mother go to jail if it’s the last thing she does.

They arrive at the precinct, and Marinette carries the boy like its nothing. Damian offers to help, but he’s shaken off. Renee is already asleep in her arms, after all, and she doesn’t want to risk waking him up. She’s sure that he's tired, after all this. It’s a curious thing, how softly and lovingly she looks down at the boy, even though Damian suspects that Marinette has never met the boy in her life before this fiasco.

Their party arrives more quickly than the mother, so they take seats in a small office, Renee still on Marinette’s lap. She’s now scrolling through her phone, assessing whatever’s on her screen with a clinical eye. Damian pulls out his phone as well. To be honest, he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here. He only stepped in at the last second, though he doesn’t have any real complaints about being here. His father would say it’s an experience, and his siblings would joke that he finally ended up in the hands of the police.

When the lady arrives, she looks nothing like that woman he saw on the streets earlier. She looks every inch a professional. Her makeup has been touched up, and there is a smile plastered on her face that screams dealing with an unpleasant situation.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she says to Marinette like she’s an old friend. “You know how it is-- sometimes it’s really hard to keep a level head with all that goes on in the city. I was so scared for my little boy-- I heard there was an akuma attack near his school, and rushed out to get him, but he wanted to stay with his friends.”

Marinette has a polite smile fixed on her face as well. Her face doesn’t show the slightest bit of reaction to the lady.

“Kids, am I right?” The lady tries for a joke, tries to sway Marinette and the officer and Damian to her side. “So just let me pick up Renee here, and I’ll bring him back home.”

The lady reaches for Renee, and Damian stops her because Marinette has both her hands full with Renee, who has woken up with shuddering sobs.

“Officer, is it possible if Renee can wait outside of the room while we talk? Surely there’s somebody who can watch him out there.” Her voice is still kept soft and soothing. She looks at Renee and smiles, doesn’t bother looking at the rest of her surroundings. “Is that okay, Renee? Do you mind waiting outside for a little?”

The little boy nods, and he is swept up by some other person who works at the precinct, and then it is only the four of them in the room.

The lady looks frustrated, but she keeps her mouth shut as the officer goes through the proper procedures that they must follow, and that CPS is getting involved.

“But officer, there’s no need to get CPS involved. I take very good care of my darling Renee. He gets to go to all the classes he could ever want to and I love him very much. I’m so sorry that he got bruised. I’ll make sure that it never happens again.”

Marinette’s hands are carefully laid on her pants. Her fingers are splayed open and the entirety of each palm rests on her thighs. A gesture that makes her look relaxed, were it not for the slight tremble that Damian detects. She is holding her hands in that position so tightly that Damian has good reason to believe that she is withholding herself from hitting the woman.

“Madame DeVries.” Marinette’s voice is clipped. “CPS must be involved. I insist. It’s very clear to me that this is not the first time that you have hurt Renee, nor will it be the last.”

“How can you say that?” The lady wails. She is an okay actress, but not able to fool any of those present in the room. “I love my darling boy. I would never hit him. Never!”

“Regardless of whether this is the first time you hit him, there are more ways to hurt a person than just physical abuse. Renee’s fear of you makes it clear that you have induced some sort of psychological trauma on him.”

The lady’s face contorts into a sneer when she realizes that nobody in the room is on her side. “You have no evidence. You can’t accuse me like that. I’ll call a lawyer.”

“Go ahead and call a lawyer, Madame. I think that would be for the best. Don’t worry about the evidence. There’s plenty.” She turns to the officer. “Please call someone from CPS here. I don’t want Renee going home with her until the trial is over.”

“You can’t do that to me.” The lady is standing now, towering over Marinette and trying to intimidate her. “I have a reputation to uphold. You will not sue me for child abuse. You cannot.”

“Any parent who truly cares for their child would care more for their child’s well being rather than their own reputation. I wonder what that says about you, Madame. There is no reason why I can’t sue you and too many reasons that I should.”

She lowers herself to Marinette's ear, whispers in soft tones that she’s certain will not be caught by any recording devices. “You will not take me to court, or I’ll make sure that you are blacklisted wherever you want to work. You underestimate how much power I have.”

“Madame, please move away from me. I was only going to attempt to remove Renee from your custody, but please be assured that I will now pursue you for threatening a minor, abusing a child, and whatever other charges that I can come up with. I will refuse to settle. The trial will go public, and the reputation that you care so much about will be ruined, even if you win.”

Celia Devries’ face shifts to an almost cattish grin. It looks like she’s won. “Please, I understand that you’re distressed, but I haven’t threatened you at all.”

Marinette simply pulls her phone out again and plays back a recording of the exact threat that Celia just made to her.

She splutters. “I never agreed to be recorded! It’s illegal under French code.”

“Madame DeVries, when you come into the precinct, you agree to being recorded. This recording might be from my personal phone, but it is still within legal jurisdiction. In addition, the code is different for gathering evidence against a crime. Everything that is said and done in this office can be disclosed during trial, and there are cameras and voice recorders in here. Please, return to whatever you had to do, and you will be served your court orders soon enough.” Damian is impressed. Has Marinette done this before? She’s too prepared to know this just by spending a few minutes on her phone.

Celia pales, then storms out of the room, frightened that she’ll say something else that will incriminate herself.

“At least Hawkmoth has already filled his daily quota,” the officer jokes.

“There’s that much, at least,” Marinette smiles, but there’s something frigid behind it.

“You’re always getting caught up in something,” Damian says.

“I really am. Some day I’ll become a recluse.”

“And let the world’s horrors move without you?”

Marinette shrugs and all of the tension that was holding in her hands and shoulders dissipates.

“Since this is a child custody case, it will be the government against Mademoiselle DeVries. The two of you can come to testify, and if there’s any evidence that you have, you can go ahead and give it to me now. If you want to sue her for threatening a minor, you can do that as well; I’ll get you in contact with a lawyer.”

“I don’t have any evidence.” Right now, at least. When Damian goes home, he’ll do a little digging about the woman, see what he can find.

“I do. I was recording the whole encounter on the street, and I also have several eyewitnesses who have recorded as well. Let me send them to you.” Marinette fiddles with her phone. “And if it’s possible, I think it would be a good thing for Renee to talk to a psychiatrist. In the interim before he goes home, who will he be staying with?”

“He can choose to stay with his next of kin, or can stay in a temporary foster home.”

“Please email me the date that I should come in to testify, and give me the lawyer’s contact information as well. I’ll email him any additional evidence that I can get.”

“I’d like the email address of the lawyer as well.” Damian might only have a moral conscience because his family beat it into him, but Renee seems like a sweet kid. He’s willing to help.

They’re out of the precinct in another half hour, after Marinette pulls the person from CPS in so they can talk to Renee about what’s going to happen next. The kid takes it surprisingly well, saying that he doesn’t want his mom to get hurt, but that he’s excited to see his Nonna and Nonno again. Marinette tells him that he can contact her any time he wants to talk at her cell phone number, and if he ever wants him to visit, just call.

All the buzz of the world seems to die down when they get out of the precinct, and Damian asks whether she’s done this before.

“I haven’t done anything like this before, but I’ve certainly dreamed of it.” Her eyes look off to a distance. “Abusive parents are the worst.”

“Yours?” Damian can’t imagine this girl’s parents as being abusive, but he should have known better to believe that. Just because someone is stable and competent doesn’t mean that they have a good family-- just look at him and his brothers. They’re competent and stable on good days.

She gasps and looks shocked, verging on offended and embarrassed. “Of course not! My parents are both very sweet people. I love them so much-- I can’t believe I gave you that idea! No, I was talking about a friend’s parent. Anyways, thank you for stepping between me and that woman. You always seem to help me right when I need it.”

Damian doesn’t really think that Marinette needed his help much in any of the situations that he’s seen her. He doesn’t mind the false gratitudes, though it does irk him that he’s never actually helped her. Odd, considering that what little morality he had mostly pertained to life threatening situations, and Marinette’s issues were more in line with everyday annoyances. “And yet you refuse to help me out with Lila.”

Her face immediately sours. “Like I said; class is class. It’s different at Francois Dupont.”

“And why is that?”

“If you want help catching up or something, I don’t mind helping you outside of class, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s better for you if you’re not seen with me.” Her hand is tight on her purse.

At the risk of feeling like a whiny child, Damian asks again. “But why shouldn’t I be seen with you?”

Marinette sighs, heavily, then looks around at the people on the streets, almost like she’s looking for somebody. “Let’s just say that Lila and I have come to an agreement. The rest of the class isn’t the fondest of me, and if you’re seen talking with me, that will be bad for both of us. I don’t want any problems.”

“Tt. I see.” It seems as though he will also spend some time tonight looking into the history of his class.

#miraculous ladybug #daminette #maribat #mlbxdc #dc #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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dinolikes · 4 years

Text

IMPOSTER- PART TWO

summery ❤︎ Nobody has any quirks and are stuck on a ship like among us

pairings ❤︎ Imposter!Dabi x Reader

content warnings ❤︎ major character death

| prev. |

you sobbed into dabi's chest as hawks and ingeniumu covered thirteens body with a sheet, everyone looking over, some with tears, and some with just a blank look, like they were still processing it.

it was silent for a long time before ingeniumu cleared his throat and looked up, everyone seeing the ghost of tears in his eyes, "we have to call h-headquarters," his voice cracked but he stood tall, he would make a great captain one day, even with his pushover attitude.

you were crowded in the cafeteria, a computer resting on the table with headquarters on the line.

"im sorry to say this but you have an imposter."

you shook your head, you refused to believe it, how could these people, your FRIENDS, who you've lived with for a year, how could they be imposters?

though you shouldnt be surprised, the league has been gaining members, rarely any ship didnt have at least ONE imposter, some even having as much as three, you just thought you guys were the exception.

"twice, hawks, you searched thirteens body correct?" a voice came through the screen.

"yes sir," hawks quietly muttered.

"was everything in place?"

"he didnt have the vent key."

the vent key, really easy to pass through, was originally made for people to quickly go from room to rooms, but after the rise of imposters who started using it to sneak up on people, only one person was allowed to use it per day.

the voice cursed, "very well." a sigh could be heard, "well you know the drill," you did, you just didnt like it, "if you suspect someone, send them out and let them die," you gulped.

you didnt know if you could do that, even knowing that someone here murdered thirteen, you learned to care for each of them, even weirdo itchy snatch tomura. you didnt know if you could just send them into space to suffocate. even the thought made you sick.

"until then, we'll need you to finish your tasks fast, we'll have you home by the end of the day, which means the imposter will probably try to kill faster today. watch out." with that a beep was heard, signaling that you were disconnected.

a grim silence filled the room.

hawks finally spoke up, "which one of you assholes did it?"

dabi glared at the taller man, "fuck you dude, how do we know you didnt do it?"

hawks took a step closer, "bold accusations from someone who seems to hate everyone!"

"why would I kill one of the only people I actually like in this shithole?"

"because he had the vent key dumbass!"

"hey!" twice yelled.

hawks glowered at him, "oh yeah, how could we forget twice here? you found the body right? meaning you were the last one to see him? why DID you decide to check on him huh?"

"why would I come to you guys then?!"

"i dunno, to throw off suspicion maybe?"

you finally snapped "stop it!" everyone's heads shot towards you, "thirteen is dead," you choked out, "and I know thay we're all upset but we just have to finish today's tasks and then we're back home, okay?"

everyone stared, until deku started nodding, "y-yeah! just today's tasks left! then we'll go home and catch the imposter and we'll be fine!"

"what makes you so sure we'll catch him once we get home idiot?"

deku stared up confusingly at kaachan, "dont we have cameras?"

ingeniumu looked at his friend "obviously deku but whatre you getting at?"

"our cameras have memory sticks," shoto spoke up quietly, "when they're connected into one of headquarters machines, you can access all of what it caught,"

deku nodded rapidly, "exactly!"

your eyes lit up, "deku your a genius!" you grabbed his head and gave him a big smooch on the forehead, leaving him a red and stuttering mess.

dabi tsk'ed, "c'mere,' he grabbed you hand and pulled you towards him, wrapping you hands around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

you rolled your eyes playfully at his jealous nature.

"fine. we finish our task but if another person is found dead we're booting someone off." with that, hawks stormed off.

you tried not to go too harsh on him, you knew hawks looked up to thirteen, and beneath that cocky demeanor, he really was soft.

knowing that though, you couldnt help but feel some fear and resentment.

fear because you didnt think you could kill off one of your own and resentment because you knew hawks would make you do exactly that.

"we should have a plan," ingeniumu speaks up, "4 groups of two who continue on and do their tasks, and I think twice should be on security, just incase the imposter attacks again," everyone nods.

"i'll go with wonder," dabi states, already grabbing your hand,

"dont you think you'll get distracted with...other things?" tomura smirks, dabi clenching your hand in his.

"fuck. off."

"oo feisty~"

dabi glares, "yknow you dont really seem to care much that thirteens dead!"

tomura's eyes flash a dangerous color and he leans forward.

"the FUCK did you just say?"

"you heard me you fucking incel,"

"stop!" ingeniumu yells, "tomura is right, you guys do get quite distracted, wonder is with hawks, dabi your with shoto. ill go with tomura and that leaves deku and kaachan, with twice on security. let's go!"

dabi grumbles but goes with his brother as you lightly kiss him on the cheek and go with hawks.

you cant help but think about how amazing that kid is gonna be when hes older as a captain of his own ship.

you and hawks head off, both of you checking your list and stopping by rooms, the other waiting as they finish their task and repeating, until hawks sighed.

"how are you dating that asshole?"

you laugh, "hes not too bad once he likes you,"

"and what? he just doesn't like me?"

"exactly."

"what if he didnt like thirteen?" your smile drops instantly.

"hawks..."

"I'm just saying!"

"well STOP saying! I know dabi and he wouldnt betray me like that, so whatever accusations you have against MY boyfriend, I dont wanna here it," you scowl as you check your notebook, and started heading forward, "c'mon. I have to do wires in electrical."

hawks stayed quiet through the walk, as you stormed forward, wanting to get as much away from him as possible without ACTUALLY losing him. if you were being honest you were scared of going off alone.

as you walked in electrical you instantly went towards the wires, not noticing hawks standing in the doorway,

"wonder?"

"yes hawks?" you snap.

"I just saw someone vent." you pause and turn around.

"where and who?!"

"I dont know! I just saw the vent close when we walked in here and since Thirteen had the key before he died, that means that only the imposter can vent!"

"fuck! why would they vent though?!"

hawks paused. "maybe they killed someone again."

tears filled your eyes as you started searching the dark room, almost tripping over something, you only briefly looked up but you choked back a sob.

it was a foot.

"hawks!"

he came running towards you from behind the wall and saw the foot, gulping as he turned on the flashlight.

there say ingeniumu, with his throat slashed.

you couldnt hold back the cry that left your throat as hawks pulled you in for a hug, mostly to hide his own tears.

"what's going on in here?" you heard dabi's voice and you lifted you head to see him and shoto.

he looked mad but when hawks gestured with his flashlight towards the body, the brief flash letting both of the boys see, dabi understood.

"c'mere baby," he grabbed you quickly and held you tight as you sobbed into his chest, dabi looked up at his brother, "shoto can you call a meeting?" he asked softly. you assumed shoto nodded because there were no other words spoken.

there you all sat again, in cafeteria.

you were sniffling as dabi played with your hair, you holding shoto close as he leaned into you, still in shock of seeing his friend's lifeless corpse like that.

deku stood tall and didnt bother to hide the tears streaming down his face and even kaachan was caught sniffling a bit.

twice sat quietly in the corner, with his elbows on his knees.

hawks though, was red in the face from anger. and the victim of his anger was none other than tomura.

"you were teamed up with him fuckface!"

tomura simply shrugged, "I got bored and wanted to check on twice, see if he was alive,"

"well he is! but your partner fucking isnt!" hawks jammed his finger against the other mans chest, "and I think YOURE the cause!"

tomura raised his eyebrows, "I was with twice, right twice?" he did a 180 to stare hard at twice who looked up slightly and slowly nodded. that seemed to please tomura though as he turned back around, "see?"

"that doesnt mean shit! you were supposed to be with him!"

"but I wasnt."

"but you WERE! that's why the kid is dead!"

"I say we vote." shoto's voice was muffled by your neck and dabi's chest, where he was currently crammed in, but it was still intelligible.

you raise your head and wipe a few stray tears, "I think that's smart sho,"

you all nod and murmur in agreement.

"fine then. let's vote." hawks glares at tomura one last time, "who says skip?"

tomura, twice and shoto raise their hands.

"i dont think theres enough evidence." shoto explains and you nod, quietly telling him that theres nothing wrong with his belief.

hawks has a slight triumph look on his face, "who says that tomura is a fucking psychopath who likes to murder children!"

"murder a child. thirteen is practically twice my age" tomura corrects, "and besides I didn't do it."

hawks rolls his eyes, "whatever, everyone just vote."

you, dabi, hawks, deku and kaachan raise your hand, making you guys the winner.

"perfect." hawks drags tomura over to the ejecting room, usually used for heavier garbage that didnt fit in the disposal.

as you all surrounding the glass wall that separated you and tomura you cried a bit more.

sure you hated this dude but you still KNEW him!

"anything left to say sicko?" hawks glared at the smiling tomura.

"maybe you arent as much of a bird brain as I thought hawks. good job, you win," he does a slight bow like this was a performance before hawks pulls the lever, tomura's body flying out before hawks closed it again.

"he admitted to it." deku stated simply.

"yeah."

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