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whisker-biscuit · 3 months

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The Lines We Cross: Chapter 29

The Cold Heart of Hate

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His Last Word Was My Name…His Last Thought Was of Me

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They were going after Clockwerk. They were going to take down Clockwerk.

Just thinking about it felt like treason; something Sly had dared not voice even in his own head for years after the Incident. Actively trying it would have once been enough to send him into a panic at the slightest hint of something going wrong. Two months ago, if he’d considered something like this, he probably would have given up and turned himself back in to the Fiendish Five for the sake of his own survival – freedom be damned. It was an impossible task against an untouchable foe, and one beaten-down failure of a thief would never have been able to get even this far on his own.

But he wasn’t beaten-down anymore, nor was he a failure like he’d been led to believe for too long. And, most importantly, he was no longer alone.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t scared shitless, though.

Sly flexed the fingers around his cane in a constant, nervous tic as he followed Inspector Fox into one of the caverns littering the volcano’s inner walls. She was dragging the robo-falcon she’d shot behind her, but it barely slowed her down at all, and once again he marveled at how incredible she was. Once they were sure the cave that they’d picked was free of birds, cameras, mines, or any other security, the two of them hunkered down in the shadows and began working out the details of their haphazard plan.

As the raccoon watched the crater in case of a sudden appearance by the Five’s leader, Carmelita pried apart the metal shell of the smaller, downed bird and pulled out the weapon inside of it – along with the tangled mess of wires that made up half its innards. She let out a contemplative hum as she examined what she’d found.

“Just as I thought; this is a military-grade British gun turret. Lightweight and small enough to hold for easy use and transport, but still deadly with even a single direct hit. It’s supposed to be highly regulated, classified technology. How the hell did Clockwerk get his claws on this?”

“You said it’s British? I’d bet all my money on Raleigh either having someone on the inside or just stealing the blueprints himself. The guy was obsessed with recreating anything machine-related he could hear about, especially if it was outside of public knowledge. He and Clockwerk loved to talk shop and haggle over tech information.”

She looked at him with surprise, and his shoulders drew up subconsciously.

“What?” He nearly snapped, defensive.

“No – nothing,” the fox was quick to reassure. “I just…I didn’t expect you to be so forthcoming about that. Stuff about the Fiendish Five.”

“Well…yeah. The cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it? I don’t really have any reason to be secretive about it anymore.”

“I guess not.” She began untangling the cords and wires around the miniature turret, speaking absently as she worked. “I thought about that a lot while we were separated, you know. How much you knew about where we were going, and about the Five.”

Sly turned his gaze back out the cave entrance to continue watching the skies. “I knew approximate things. I knew Mz. Ruby lived in a swamp and that it was somewhere in Haiti, but they always dropped me directly in her territory, so I didn’t have the exact location down. Same with Raleigh, and the Panda King.”

“So…those emails from Muggshot weren’t just for my benefit?” Her tone wasn’t confrontational, only curious, but he still gave her a brief sideways glance.

“No. I swiped them from his office when you were fighting him – back when I didn’t think you’d come out of it alive.” He snorted and shook his head. “If only I’d known it’s literally impossible to put you down.”

“You flatter me, Ringtail. I was just extremely lucky.” Carmelita paused long enough that it was obvious she had thought of something. “Wait. That ‘special package’ they were talking about. Was that…?”

“Yours truly.”

“I’m so sorry, Sly.”

He would have closed his eyes to avoid the pity on her face if he wasn’t currently playing lookout. “I said it then and I’ll say it now: there’s no use getting our tails in a twist over it. It happened, it’s over, and now we’re going to make sure it never happens again.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Another, longer pause. “Hang on, you didn’t know exactly where most of the Five were hiding, but what about Clockwerk? How did you find him?”

“I mean, it’s a lot easier to find someone who lives in a single volcano compared to, say, an entire mountain range. But, yeah, I knew where he was. He told me when he dared me to win my freedom back. I always thought it was a weird throwaway comment, but…” The raccoon gestured around them. “Guess I should’ve known him better than that.”

“Don’t give him credit he doesn’t deserve. There’s no way he could’ve predicted something like this, and we both know he wasn’t aiming for me on that statue.”

“Sure, but we can’t underestimate him either, Carmelita. He’s the leader for a lot of reasons beyond his size and strength.”

Her fingers snagged on an exposed wire. She let out a quiet curse as it shocked her. “You know what? I’m done talking about him until we have to. Let’s change the subject. How long has it been since Kunlun? I was unconscious for a while, and it hasn’t been easy to keep track of time since I woke up.”

“Uh…”

Sly shot her another glance, noticing the angry pull of her mouth and the way she was glaring at the turret in her lap like it was the evilest thing in the world. It was very clear what – who – she was actually directing her fury towards. He wisely did not bring it up and followed her lead instead.

“Sixteen hours, give or take. Sorry it took so long.”

“Sixteen –” the inspector’s head shot up to stare at him. “Sly, Krakarov is a long way from Kunlun. Forget the apology, it’s amazing you got here as fast as you did! How on earth did you do it?”

“Hitched a ride on whatever plane got me the closest, then hiked the rest of the way.”

Carmelita stopped working entirely. “You got on a plane.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You flew here to find me.”

“How else was I supposed to get here? By car?” He asked, making her huff in good-natured exasperation. The reason for her shock wasn’t lost on him, however, and his sarcasm dropped in favor of something more genuine. “Listen, I’m not saying it was easy. It actually really fucking sucked, but I wasn’t going to leave you in the claws of that monster any longer than necessary. Rescuing you was worth the trip. Hell, I’d board the longest flight in the world if that’s what it took.”

“Sly, that’s…”

A sudden chill ran down the raccoon’s back – a preemptive warning for something all too familiar. He took a few steps further into the shadows of the cave, planting himself between the exit and where Carmelita was sitting on the ground with the falcon corpse. When she looked up at him, confused, he put a finger to his lips and turned his attention to the crater beyond.

He felt rather than saw Clockwerk approaching from a distance, sweeping the area in search of them. With a nervous, protective hiss, painfully aware of the fact that the cave ended in a rock wall just a few meters back, Sly curled protectively around the inspector and held them both still, watching the sky. The owl’s giant silhouette blotted out the stars above as he circled the crater once from a great height, then swooped low for a second, more discerning pass.

The raccoon risked tilting his head just enough so that his mouth was right next to Carmelita’s ear. His eyes never left Clockwerk’s silent, deadly form, terrified that the minuscule movement had tipped off their enemy to their location.

“Hold your breath as long as you can,” he whispered to his partner. She obeyed without question, inhaling deeply and quietly, and he had never been more grateful for her trust in his life.

Immediately, Sly became invisible, hoping beyond hope that the ability extended to who he was holding and not just what. The fox stiffened against him but didn’t exhale, thank god, and he wordlessly apologized for catching her off guard with this unexpected thing he could do. He didn’t dare look to see if it had worked on her. All he could do was stay motionless, breathless; watching and waiting for the owl to make the next move.

Clockwerk did a third and final circle through the area. He passed so close to the rock wall and the cavern the two were huddled in that they could hear the mechanical whirring of his body for the briefest of seconds before he moved on. The sound set all of Sly’s fur on end; his chest burned in rhythm to terrible memory.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d arrived, the ancient bird flew off over a distant ridge and disappeared.

Neither of them moved for a solid minute afterwards. The raccoon held his breath until he couldn’t any longer, releasing it only when his vision started going spotty. Carmelita did the same against him. They remained that way, panting silently together and watching the dark skies.

When it finally felt safe enough, he began to uncurl from around the inspector only for her to grab him by the shoulders and swivel him so they were nose to nose.

“What was that?” She whispered as she stared at him. “Sly, you were invisible. I was invisible! How the hell did you do that?!”

“It’s a technique I learned from the Thievius Raccoonus,” he murmured, feeling a prickle of fear pass through his mind at the intense look on her face. He couldn’t read her expression, and that was the scariest thing of all. “I don’t – I’m not really sure how it works, just that I have to hold my breath to do it. I’m just glad that it worked on you; that was a gamble I was making when I grabbed you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Carmelita continued to stare at him, still clutching his shoulders, then released him with an incredulous shake of her head. “Increíble. You really are something special, Sly Cooper. I hope you realize that.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Seemingly taking his silence as agreement or at least acquiescence, the fox picked up the turret she had been working on before their scare.

“I think I got this thing figured out. We can definitely use it against Clockwerk. Now all we need is a proper plan.” She peered out at the open crater, then over at him. “I have an idea, especially now that I know you can disappear at will, but…I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“I doubt I’ll like any plan that’s going to put us at risk, but if it’s enough to take him down, then it’s worth it. Hit me with your best shot, Inspector.”

So, she did exactly that – and she was right, he didn’t like it. But they had precious few options and precious little time, and it was the only real chance they had. Against all his instincts screaming at him to forget about this, to flee before it was too late, Sly agreed with the grim understanding that it was now or never.

It was finally time to end the Fiendish Five once and for all, and earn his freedom back.

For however much longer that was worth.

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This was what they were going to do:

Sly, armed with both the jetpack and the mini-turret, would climb as high as he dared along the cliff walls above the lava pits, visibly and openly, in an attempt to goad Clockwerk into appearing. Inspector Fox would remain on the rocky paths below, out of sight and waiting for anything to attack her partner. The moment the owl arrived, she would shoot him with her shock pistol in an effort to stun him and send him plummeting into the fatal pools below. If the electricity wasn’t enough right off the back, the raccoon would unload the turret into him to finish the job and get the hell out of dodge before any retaliation could happen.

Best case scenario, all it would take was one hit from the pistol to down the bird. Worst case, Sly was supposed to flee using the jetpack and his invisibility while Carmelita disappeared back into the caves around her, and they’d try to regroup outside of the volcano or hunker down and hide until Interpol arrived to deal with the furious owl.

It was a messy, impromptu plan that relied on luck just as much as their own skills, but they were going to bank on Clockwerk’s obsession with the Coopers to blind him to the assault until it was too late. The leader of the Fiendish Five thought himself untouchable; tonight, the two of them hoped to prove otherwise.

Sly huddled between two large cracks in the wall for a quick breather as he worked his way up the side of the crater. For all that he was only pretending to try and escape, there was no acting in the way he constantly scanned the scenery and pressed himself tightly against the rocks in paranoia. He couldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard by Clockwerk before Carmelita could do her part. His heart hammered in his scarred chest and his tail flicked about in uncontainable stress.

He double-checked the jetpack straps to make sure there was no chance they’d come loose on him if he took to the air. His partner had checked the fuel tank and assured him that it had several hours’ worth of constant flight, which was a minor relief, but he had only gotten a crash course from her about how to adjust his height. There hadn’t even been time to test its speed. One bad maneuver and the owl could clip him with a wing or a talon.

Send him falling out of the skies and straight to his –

The raccoon shook his head and continued climbing. Catastrophizing was pointless, now. It was time to trust Inspector Fox.

Himself, too.

Just as his foot found another crevasse to hoist himself up further, foreboding hit the back of his neck down to his tail. Sly twisted in place to face the crater, catching the faintest glimpse of that familiar silhouette high above before it dove straight for him. He froze, hypnotized by the glowing yellow gaze trained on him, and found himself unable – unwilling – to move.

“Found you.”

The owl’s beak was open in a twisted grin of triumph as he came down at his prey. His claws came out from under his body, open and ready to grab, to take, to break, and his eyes were alight with hateful glee. Everything else disappeared under the great and terrible presence of Clockwerk.

I’m going to die.

Pure, concentrated energy arced up in the shrinking gap between them. It hit the bird square in the head with an eruption of blue. He reared back in a flurry of flapping wings as if blinded, and that was all the cue Sly needed. The raccoon came back to himself just in time to turn the turret on and fire – right where the shock pistol blast had just connected. Clockwerk screeched, loud and pained and furious, and crashed into the volcano wall where his quarry was flattened up against.

Sly stopped firing and leapt instead, narrowly missing the enraged owl by the skin of his teeth as he began to freefall. Amidst his fear and the horrible scraping of metal to rock, he barely had the presence of mind to fumble with the jetpack controls, turning his rapid drop into a midair float. Holding his breath against the urge to hyperventilate was done through sheer force of will; he disappeared from sight just as the owl regained his bearings and launched off of the wall back into the sky.

“You cannot escape me, Cooper Raccoon!” Clockwerk roared. His eyes glittered with loathing as he searched for his prey. “You’re the weakest Cooper I’ve ever encountered. My intellect is refined; my experience is greater! I will thwart this pitiful attempt at fighting back and show you what true terror looks like!”

He made several wide swipes into the air around him, hoping to catch the raccoon with sheer reach alone, but Sly had already fallen as low as he dared above the bubbling lava pits. The heat was so strong he could feel it through the soles of his sneakers, but he remained invisible underneath the ancient bird as he hunted him.

A second electric bullet slammed into Clockwerk talons from below. The digits went momentarily limp; the owl’s head whirled towards Carmelita, who stood out in the open on the rock path beneath the battle with her pistol at the ready. His beak opened in a silent approximation of a snarl as all his murderous intent zeroed in on the inspector who’d dared get in the way of his goal.

Before he could even dive-bomb after her, Sly reappeared in his line of sight long enough to shoot at him again. Bullets ripped into the vulnerable metal around his claws until two of them were hanging by a thread. There were no nerve endings there to further debilitate the owl; he course-corrected without any hesitation and aimed for the raccoon while he was still visible.

“Enough, Sly Cooper! It ends here. I’ll finish you like I finished your father. Then the Cooper line will be erased, and the only master thief will be Clockwerk!”

Sly yanked on the jetpack controls, sending him rocketing skywards so fast it nearly gave him whiplash as Clockwerk followed right behind. Each wing beat matched the throbbing in his chest.

“You can’t dodge me forever.” It was a promise, not a threat, as the ancient bird began to close in on his prey. His damaged talons rose in preparation to snatch him straight out of the air –

“Sly! Behind you!”

The owl swerved, suddenly losing control of his flight as Carmelita shot out his tail feathers. He spiraled leftward, attempting a desperate grab for the raccoon that was easily avoided right before crashing into an outcropping of metal and machinery that had been embedded in one of the walls. Sly turned and stared in disbelief at the monster who had plagued his life; the monster who had now found himself momentarily trapped as his shredded claws caught against his own contraption.

Bizarre didn’t even begin to describe it. It was downright surreal. And it was all thanks to the force of nature that was Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox.

A force of nature that wasn’t done yet.

As Clockwerk struggled to free himself and regain the upper hand, the fox found her mark a fourth time. His right wing lit up from electricity, and its frantic flapping slowed considerably. Sly didn’t waste the opportunity given to him – he laid into that wing with the last of the turret’s ammunition. Metal feathers were ripped from their master’s shell in flaming shards, plopping into the lava pool like dozens of tiny comets.

All at once, the wing went limp, as did the rest of the ancient bird. Sly hovered high and uncertainly above him, clutching the empty weapon while waiting for the next thing to dodge or react to. Far below them both, he could see Carmelita taking advantage of the brief reprieve to begin reloading her pistol.

He looked in her direction a second too long, and that was all it took.

Clockwerk lurched, sudden and startling, and dropped dead weight towards the lava. What seemed like a victory at first became horrifying realization as the owl twisted midair to turn his freefall into a glide with the last bit of control he still had – aimed straight for Inspector Fox in her distraction. Her eyes went wide and she dropped the shock pistol in her panic, turning tail and sprinting for all she was worth from the creature determined to slaughter her.

Time slowed to a crawl. Sly felt himself move in slow motion; turning off the jetpack, throwing aside the useless turret, pulling his cane out as he rocketed down towards Clockwerk. Sparkles flashed across the broken metal frame and he followed them, landing on the plummeting owl’s back as easily as if it were solid ground. As the ancient bird made one last bid for an attack, the raccoon brought the cane down against the back of his skull.

Clockwerk screamed. His head twisted in place to fix loathing eyes on the last Cooper, and it was just enough to save Carmelita’s life. He crashed into the lava centimeters shy of the fox’s rocky sanctuary, thrashing wildly as molten liquid poured into his body. Even in his flailing, even as he began to sink further and further into the lava, Sly did not jump off of his back.

He slammed his cane into the owl’s head again. And again. And again. For every garbled sentence Clockwerk said as his brain failed him, for every twitch of dying machinery, for every part of him that was still impossibly alive, Sly Cooper struck him over and over. There was no blind rage or even blind terror to the onslaught; just the crystal-clear understanding that if he did not stop until this monster was well and truly dead, then he would never have the chance again.

Within the battered, broken head of the owl, a single coherent word rang out.

“Cooper!”

The sound of his last name was enough to finally make the raccoon pause. He stilled with his cane raised, prepared for one last trick.

“You will never be rid of me,” the monster declared. “Clockwerk is superior–!”

His voice cut out as the cane cracked his head clean off.

Yellow eyes dimmed to blank black and wings drooped into lava as the struggling stopped in an instant. Sly stood there on what little was left of Clockwerk, staring down the body slowly melting beneath him. His own body felt heavy, and his senses were behind a wall that he could not pass through. Distantly, he heard Inspector Fox call out to him, pleading for him to get off of the owl and join her, but registering it was a delayed process.

When he finally began to turn towards the safety of the nearby rock, something under his foot caught his attention. The raccoon looked down to see papers jammed in the open hole that now made up Clockwerk’s neck. He crouched, picking them up before they could be burned to a crisp, and jumped from the husk of his previous life to the uncertainty of his next.

Carmelita was waiting for him there. She looked at him for a long moment, then at the pages held almost reverently in his hands.

“Are those…?”

“Yeah.” He answered without really being there, staring down at the thing he’d worked so hard for that had been a lie all this time. “The rest of the Thievius Raccoonus. It’s complete again.”

Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any more real. Sly continued to stare at them, and suddenly had the urge to put them back where he’d found them. Watch them dissolve into nothing along with Clockwerk.

Maybe he should just let the whole book burn.

A pair of hands wrapped around his own, where he was clenching the pages so tightly that they seemed ready to tear. He startled, unsure when he’d started doing that or how long he’d been looking at them.

“Let’s get out of here, Ringtail.” Her voice was calm and quiet and left no room for argument. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

She began pulling him along with her as she walked away from Clockwerk’s corpse. He followed without resistance – except for a single glance back which was intercepted by her gentle touch to his cheek before he could complete the movement. The raccoon blinked, surprised to feel cool wetness there in the space between her fingers and his fur.

The two of them walked for an indeterminable amount of time, only stopping to climb ledges or pick a different direction. Sly’s mind slowly began to escape the fog it had found itself in, and by the time he finally stopped dissociating, they were standing on a catwalk overlooking the entire volcano. Far below, the owl’s body had seemed to stall in its melting; it sat in the lava, half-submerged, and did not sink any further. Above them, countless stars twinkled, reminiscent of the blue sparkles that promised endless possibilities limited only by himself.

Beside him, Inspector Fox spoke quietly into her radio before setting it back on her hip. She met his gaze with a cautious expression, as unsure about his thoughts as he was about hers.

“Interpol will be here within the hour,” she said, watching him carefully. “How are you feeling?”

The raccoon took a long, deep breath. He looked out at Krakarov and the great expanse beyond. The pages in his left hand and the cane in his right didn’t feel quite as volatile anymore. With another, longer exhale, he stuffed the rest of the Thievius Raccoonus in his backpack and ran his fingers along the edges of his cane.

“Not great,” he admitted. “But…not the worst, either. I think…I think I’ll be okay.”

“Good.”

An awkward, expectant silence fell heavily between them. Neither moved or looked away, each waiting for the other to say or do something first. Finally, after a full minute of quiet studying, Carmelita pulled her shock pistol out of her holster and pointed it at him.

“Ten.”

She said it softly yet firmly, as if convincing herself as much as she was him that she was really going through with this.

“Nine.”

Sly stood frozen for a moment. Then he took a step forward.

“Eight.”

He moved slowly, bit by bit. There was no hurry for what he was about to do. Or, more precisely, what he wasn’t going to do.

“Seven.”

The raccoon came to a stop right in front of her, close enough for either of them to reach out and touch and touch each other.

“Six.”

Without breaking eye contact, Sly leaned forward until his chest was pressed up against the barrel of her weapon.

“Five.”

Inspector Fox didn’t respond to the action. She didn’t react at all beyond the briefest furrow of her eyebrows, as though unsurprised that he was choosing this.

“Four.”

He reached for her right hand; the one holding her weapon.

“Th-three.”

Now she stumbled over her words, finally caught off guard by what he was doing. Even then, she didn’t flinch when his fingers intertwined with hers.

“Two.”

Sly never stopped staring at her. He committed every detail of her face to memory for the precious last second that he had it. The touch he’d dared to steal from her would forever be the only thing he stole from her.

“One.”

It was his voice that finished the count, barely a whisper of a word as he let go of her hand. They were nose to nose, neither blinking. He closed his eyes and began to back out of her space, waiting for the pull of a trigger.

But she surged forward instead.

Faster than he could react, her lips pressed to his. He made a startled noise against her, stiffening for a moment before melting into the unexpected kiss; her free hand came up to hold his cheek, and his hands burrowed into her hair. The trust, the heartache, the need for each other was shared in one simple, desperate gesture of love.

And then, just like that, it was over.

They pulled away from each other at the same time, both trembling with emotions they couldn’t contain and yet couldn’t express. The pistol remained a barrier between them.

“Get out of here, Sly Cooper,” Carmelita murmured, gaze bright and burning. “Go show the world that you’re worth so much more than a name.”

She closed her eyes. Opened them.

He was already gone.

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A/N: I really hope the Clockwerk confrontation was satisfying. It was harder to adapt the fight than I expected - he's got lasers and those electric rings in the game, but otherwise he himself doesn't do much while facing you. I wanted him to be more "active" so to speak, so took away the weapons to make that happen (and to even the playing field a little bit because our heroes were struggling otherwise). I know a lot of people had high expectations for the climax of this fic and I apologize if it fell short.

(Can you tell I'm nervous? I'm really nervous, ahaha.....)

See you all next week for the epilogue.

#sly cooper #carmelita fox #clockwerk #fanfiction #the lines we cross

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sylvienerevarine · 1 year

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another prompt from @blossom-adventures over in @nirnwrote land! the prompt was "that was a warning" combined with a sudden thought about "whatever happened to Maven Black-Briar's husband anyway?"

The minute Sophrine bent down delightedly to pet the goat–because really, who would have expected to see a goat on Solstheim? –she was greeted by the sound of an arrow whizzing past her ear.

“That was a warning,” called a gruff, Nord-accented voice from near the farmhouse. “You get any ideas about stealing, the next one’s going in your heart.”

Sophrine held up her hands in surrender, turning to face the man sitting on a bench nearby. “No stealing, I swear! Just goat-petting. I’m one of those animal-loving tourists you sometimes hear about.”

The man snorted. He was an older gentleman, rather good-looking, with silver-streaked dark hair and a drooping mustache. He rather reminded Sophrine of someone, though she wasn’t sure who.

“Don’t suppose you might be a customer as well?” he said. “Anyone in Raven Rock will tell you that old Sid’s goat cheese is the finest on the island. Well, the only goat cheese on the island. It is good, though.”

“I’d love to try some. I am a goat cheese connoisseur.” Sophrine took a few steps closer, squinting. “You look familiar, somehow. Did I ever run into you on the mainland? Or one of your relatives, maybe?”

“Doubt it,” Sid replied gruffly. “I don’t go to the mainland. You’re probably thinking of someone else.”

“Maybe, but I still think…that’s it!” Sophrine snapped her fingers. “Have you ever been to Riften? I saw a painting of a man that looks just like you, fellow named Siegfried…” Her eyes widened as understanding hit. “Siegfried Black-Briar.”

Sid went pale, but his expression didn’t change. “Never heard of him. Grand fella like that wouldn’t spend much time in Solstheim.”

“No, I imagine he wouldn’t,” Sophrine agreed. “Especially as he was eaten by giants fifteen years ago. Unless, somehow, he wasn’t?”

“If he wasn’t,” Sid said gruffly, “he’d have had a good reason for wanting folks to think he was.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Sophrine took a cautious seat next to the old farmer. “I can’t help wondering what that reason was.”

“Look, you’re not some sort of mercenary sent to harass suspected fugitives, are you?” Sid demanded. “I may be old, but if you try anything, I’m still more than able to defend myself.”

“Nothing of the sort. I’m just a deeply nosy woman who loves a good story, and it sounds like you might know one.”

Sid took a long swig from his mug and, resignedly, nodded. “I might know an interesting tale. None of it true, of course. Let’s say there was this young man, about thirty years ago, traveling around the Rift. He’d made a good living as a sellsword and was feeling ready to settle down, have a family. And then let’s say he met this girl.”

“Pretty?”

“As a picture. Rich family, too. One thing led to another, and soon enough there was a wedding and a few youngsters. Maybe along the way the wife’s parents passed and left her a tidy fortune. Sounds like a good life, eh?”

“The best! But I suppose it didn’t last?”

“Afraid not. The wife, you see, was always an ambitious one, and the money brought out the worst in her. She got involved in all sorts of schemes and scams, and it got harder and harder to remember she’d been a bright, likable young woman once. The kids weren’t turning out well either–how could they, in that kind of house?”

“That must have been hard on their father,” said Sophrine.

“He was a weak man, and it took him some time to wake up. Then something happened that made him realize he couldn’t stay.”

“What was it?”

“There was this family,” said Sid. “Nice people, traditional–worshiped the Nine, worked a farm outside the city. It was nothing very prosperous, but had a beautiful location. Well, the ambitious woman decided she wanted that land to build a new hunting lodge. She offered the family a good price, but they wouldn’t sell. So…” Sid shook his head heavily. “She turned them in to the Thalmor as heretics.”

Sophrine couldn’t suppress a gasp. Even for Maven, that was evil. “What happened to the family?”

“They were all arrested–the ma, the pa, even the little girls–and the house was burned to the ground. The jarl seized the land and sold it to the rich woman and for dirt cheap. That’s when the husband realized his family had grown rotten to the core, and it was time to escape before he himself was beyond redemption. And he’d have to disappear permanently, so his wife would never track him down.”

“I can’t blame him,” said Sophrine. “How did he manage it?”

“Luckily, there was a giant camp near town. One night the husband killed a troll and dressed it up like him. When he tossed it into the camp…well, giants don’t refuse a free meal. A few days later, when the guard finally investigated, all they found was a few bones, some clothes, and a wedding ring.”

“By which time, I bet, the husband was already on a ship.”

“Indeed he was. And–were he real–I imagine he felt free for the first time in years.”

“The life of a farmer would suit that sort of man much better, I’m sure,” said Sophrine. “Still, I can’t help but think: no matter how horrible they were, would a man like that ever miss his family?”

Sid gazed out over the pasture, eyes rather misty. “S’pose he might,” he said. “At least, what they could have been, back before all that greed and cheating. Even if he knows there’s no going back.”

“Maybe it’s for the best if they think he’s dead,” said Sophrine. “But could it also be for the best if a random stranger–who has a surprising amount of pull in Riften–were to keep an eye on them? She could make sure they don’t go too far.”

Sid offered her a faint, somewhat surprised smile. “Aye,” he said. “He might well appreciate that.”

#skyrim #skyrim fic #my writing #tes #maven black briar #oc: sophrine

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johannstutt413 · 1 year

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(requested by coldgoldlazarus) Click/Conviction II: Please Like and Subscribe

It was Friday night, and Conviction wanted to dance. Something about tonight was… different, though. They called Click. “Are you free this evening?”

“Hey, Vicky, glad you called.” The Zalak was at her computer, editing as she so often was. “If you answer my question, I can be, yeah.”

“Would you come to the club with me tonight, then?”

Silence for a moment. “You… Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Somewhat.” They definitely were. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the glory of my performance, but more than that, I’d like to do something with you that isn’t just talk about my channel.”

“Wow, uh, okay, yeah, I’ll go with you.” Now she wasn’t sure if she should ask her question after all.

Conviction smiled to themself. “Excellence of excellence! Now, what did you want to ask me?”

“It’s video stuff,” Click brushed aside, “I don’t wanna bother you-”

“Click, hearing your voice is never a bother. What is it?” They hoped their brow furrowing wasn’t audible.

The Zalak sighed, relieved of a sudden burden. “Thanks for that. I was going through A Word On Words for the highlight reel, since you were on fire for that whole interview, but there’s this one comment you made…”

After making sure her first and favorite client wasn’t going to be canceled on release of their latest video essay, the video producer switched her phone to silent, turned off her computer (after triple-saving everything that needed saving), and bounced around her room for a few minutes. It’d finally happened! Obviously, they had good chemistry, both for film and just generally, but she’d wondered when Conviction would ask her out, and finally they had! She would’ve probably only been able to wait another week before asking them out herself, but as they usually did, they’d delivered.

By the time she’d gotten changed and managed to calm down, there was a knock on her door.

“Good eveni-” The Conviction immediately ran out of words upon seeing Click’s outfit of choice. “...Well, hello~”

“Hey.” Not that the Zalak particularly noticed with her nerves acting up.

Conviction held a hand out to her. “If I didn’t believe in sharing beauty with the world on principle, I’d keep you to myself for the night. Have you eaten yet?”

“No?” She gave them a curious look. “We’re dancing, right?”

“I mean I am, honestly I didn’t want to assume you would just because I invited you.”

Click smiled, a red ring gathering around her pupils. “Well, then, I guess tonight just got a little more interesting. Whaddya say to a little contest?”

“You’re challenging me to a dance-off?” They laughed. “Oh, Click, what an amusing jest-”

“Why d’ya think I’m joking?” The Zalak stared them down.

The Conviction shook their head, still grinning. “Because you seem to think you’ll be able to win.”

“Look, we can agree your hot stuff, Vicky,” she admitted, “but I wasn’t the virtual dancing champion in my blogosphere for nothing!”

“...Alright, then.” Conviction stopped in the middle of the hall.

Their date spun around to face them, still holding their hand. “What’s this? Ya wanna do this without an audience? Without music?”

“I would prefer settling this before going to the club, yes.” They snapped with their free hand. “As for music?”

“...What?”

As the intercom speakers began playing a song Click had never heard, in a style she’d never heard of, the Conviction let go of her hand. “Out of the heart, the body speaks! Let your soul confess what words cannot express!”

“What words can’t express, huh?” The Zalak’s eyes were completely crimson by this point. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

“Then let’s dance!” Each took a step back and, eyes locked, they began busting it down Minos style.

At least, Conviction was, because it did not take long for a small crowd to gather and marvel at just how confident Click seemed to be doing… whatever it was she was doing. It was definitely some kind of dance, but nothing like any of the steadily-growing audience had ever seen. If true connoisseurs of the arts were there to witness her perform, surely, she could’ve started a dance revolution!

Unfortunately, none of those sorts of people were heading to the club down the hallway the dancers were blocking, and eventually a particularly large Forte stepped forward. “Hey. You’re blocking the hallway.”

“Use another one!” Conviction replied mid-step. “We’re having a sacred duel right now!”

“Yeah, there’s a shortcut through there anyway!” The Zalak pointed down a corridor a few feet behind the crowd which did, in fact, also lead to the club district of Rhodes Island… provided one was willing to spend a few minutes weaving through a poorly-managed storage closet first.

The interloper stomped her foot with a huff. “That some kind of joke?”

“The only joke here,” the blogger shot back, “is that you’re still talking! Vicky, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think I am, Clicky.” They’d never called her that before. It just felt right in the moment.

The Forte lowered her head, a pair of sturdy horns aimed down the hallway. “Get out of my way, or I’m charging!”

“You won’t be chargin’ anything but the clinic when we’re done with you!” The dancers met in the middle of the hallway before briefly sharing a smile. “CONVICTION - COMBINATION STYLE!”

“Wait, Convic- oh, shit,” one bystander muttered, pulling out his phone just in time to record the Zalak and Conviction perform a tag team dance attack on their challenger. Everyone knew Click was a Caster, so she couldn’t possibly-

She hit the Forte’s knee with her foot, and it buckled, setting up her partner’s uppercut perfectly to knock their opponent clean out. “Holy shit, it worked!”

“Of course it worked!” The Conviction was bouncing on their feet, and it had very little to do with the music anymore. “Anyone else feel like getting Convicted, hmm?”

“Actually, I think you’re the guilty ones tonight.” Jackie emerged from the crowd, Rhodes Island Precinct badge on her chest.

Click scoffed. “Whaddya mean? She started it!”

“You guys know this is disorderly conduct, right?” The Perro gestured to the Forte slowly rising to her feet. “Not to mention assault?”

“So?”

Jackie sighed, tapping the Forte on her shoulder. “Sit back, I’ll take this from here.”

“Officer?” The Forte put her hand on the cop’s shoulder in turn. “You’re the one who should be stepping away.”

“And why’s that?” She turned to face someone who was about to be the third person on her arrest to-do list.

Click took this opportunity to tug on Conviction’s shirt. “We should leave.”

“Don’t you mean resist the arrest?” They smiled. “Where’d that confidence of yours go?”

“I’m not spending our first night on the town together in the drunk tank before I’ve had a drop of alcohol, Vicky!” Her eyes flashed between yellow and red in rapid succession.

The Conviction sighed. “And here I thought you almost-”

“I’ll hold her off!” The couple’s moment was interrupted as the Forte who’d challenged them tossed Jackie into the crowd. “GO!”

“Don’t have to ask us twice!” Conviction led the way as the pair scurried down the hall, the mob following… mostly because they wanted to go to the club, really.

That didn’t stop our heroes from hiding in the first not-so-obvious turn-off they could find, breathing heavily as they waited for their pursuers to pass. “That was… not how I thought that’d go,” Click admitted, a goofy grin on her face.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you managed to Convict that lady without going through proper training.” An awkward silence. “Or did you mean the-”

“The ‘almost being arrested’ thing.”

Conviction nodded. “Right, that’s also fair.”

“Why’d she turn around and defend us?” The Zalak laughed. “She should’ve been trying to help that cop lady, not toss her into our audience!”

“After seeing you dance? I would’ve Convicted that entire crowd for you if I had to, so she must’ve felt inspired, too.” The Conviction waited for a response and looked up when they didn’t get one.

Click was staring at them. “You… liked it, then?”

“Absolutely sensational. I wish we’d made a recording.” They sighed. “Maybe some other time.”

“...Do you still want to go to the club?” She slowly approached them, hands behind her back.

Conviction shrugged. “Honestly? That was enough dancing for me.”

“In that case,” the Zalak continued, “there’s some, uh, other moves I want to show you. Back in my room. Or yours, I guess, if it’s closer.”

“Other moves?” The Conviction seemed genuinely confused.

The blogger cursed under her breath. “I mean- mm~”

“I know what you meant,” her date replied after stealing their first kiss. “Just, uh… be patient with me?”

“Okay.”

Hopefully a second kiss wasn’t too forward.

#arknights #arknights fic #click (arknights)#conviction (arknights)#i'd say friday night's alright for fighting yeah?#cause a little scene?#make a little love?#get down tonight?#...anyway this is a weirdly fun lil' couple #and it's nice to let conviction be more than a joke ya know?#even if they are still more of a meme than anything else

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robinsversion · 3 years

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Thanks Kayla :)

#you really expect me to believe that’s Holly?#after almost two years of her playing the victim and not being able to give a proper apology to save her life #you think I’d believe she’d all of a sudden turn around and be able to admit her faults now without some sort of manipulation?#she was ragging on TWC on twitter just a few hours before sending this #but thanks Kayla for trying to clear up her reputation however you can you are a better friend than she deserves #projared #Holly Conrad #why are you booing me i’m right

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from-the-clouds · 3 years

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Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :)

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow.

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering.

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared.

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature.

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world.

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band.

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now.

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again.

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her.

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give.

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued.

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her.

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on.

But oh, how much she wanted it to.

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk.

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly.

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all?

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more.

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered.

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right.

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her.

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone.

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

Series Taglist: @juice-1981 @sapphiredreamer26 @tatooineisdry @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat @thunderingbats @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo @lovegood7553 @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you for some reason! :)

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo #baron zemo #bucky barnes #sam wilson #daniel bruhl #helmet zemo fanfiction #tfatws imagine #mcu #mcu imagine

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spaceman-earthgirl · 3 years

Note

Hello, lovely, Jess! If you're open to a prompt, could you maybe do one with Lena texting Alex letting her know she'd be out of town, and Alex lets her know she's with Kara and Lena asks how's she doing and Alex tells her. Lena changes her plans (it could go either way with her postponing her trip or calling Kara up and inviting her to come along since they both could use each other's company with everything that's happened plus Kara leaning in and all that they have some things to talk about).

Based loosely on this prompt but also what I wanted to happen at the end of the episode.

---

Kara’s page is still blank, besides the title blinking back at her. She’d told Alex she knew what she was going to write for her article, but words aren’t forming in her mind, it keeps slipping back, to that fear, to that cold, the only thing keeping her grounded right now is Alex still pressed into her side.

So, she focuses on that instead, on her sister’s warmth, her steady heartbeat, the smell of her shampoo and the sound of each breath, reminding Kara that she’s still here, that she’s home.

Kara hears the message tone of Alex’s phone sound from her sister’s pocket, hears her sister shuffle slightly to get access to it. She wonders if it’s Kelly, wondering where her girlfriend is. She selfishly hopes it isn’t, hopes Alex doesn’t have to leave, hopes her sister will stay a bit longer. She’d meant what she said before, she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Lena’s leaving.”

The words startle Kara. She knows, she’s been trying very hard not to think about it. She swallows. “I know, she called me earlier.” It had been a hard conversation, Kara almost asking her to stay as Lena told her she was leaving. But she hadn’t, she’d bit her tongue, held back her tears, and wished Lena good luck. She didn’t want to be selfish with Lena, she wanted her to be able to find the answers she was looking for, she deserves that much.

But that doesn’t mean she’s not upset that she’s leaving, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t wish Lena could’ve stayed here, with her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Alex asks, Kara not realising that tears are spilling from her eyes again until Alex wipes a hand across her cheek.

“I-“ The words get caught in her throat as Alex wraps her arms around her again. She presses her face into Alex’s shoulder, her breaths coming in gasps as she thinks more about Lena, how she’s going away, how she won’t be near, how she won’t be able to just listen for her heartbeat across the city or drop on her balcony to see her.

She wonders if she listens now, will she still be able to hear Lena’s heartbeat? Or has she already left.

She doesn’t test the idea, not sure how she’ll react if she can’t hear it now.

“I’ve got you, you’re home,” Alex says, whispering reassurances as she holds Kara, Kara’s breaths coming quicker at the words, turning to sobs because she is home, but Lena’s also her home, and she’s acutely aware that she’s missing.

Eventually, Kara’s breathing slows, as she focuses on Alex, on her warm hand on her back and the quiet words she’s still whispering. She wipes at her eyes, shifts so her head falls to Alex’s shoulder, not quite ready to let her go but also not wanting to look her in the eye yet either.

Alex moves again, not away, but she reaches for her phone once more. Kara wonders if she’s texting Kelly, to tell her she won’t be home tonight.

She asks just in case.

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Of course.” Alex squeezes her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They sit like that for a while longer, Kara listening to Alex tell her stories of things she’d missed while she was away. Only the good things, Kara notices, but she likes that, likes to imagine that if she had never come back, they’d all be okay.

A knock at the door cuts Alex off mid sentence, both turning to glance at the door from their position still seated on the floor.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry, it’s probably just Kelly,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the side of Kara’s head as she stands.

Kara doesn’t check, just turns back to her computer screen, the blank page almost taunting her now. Andrea is not going to be happy if she doesn’t write anything, but Kara finds right now, she doesn’t care.

“Lena?”

The name catches Kara’s attention, her eyes flashing quickly to where Alex is at the door, and there, standing in her doorway, is Lena.

Kara’s breath catches as Lena’s eyes meet hers, pressure building behind Kara’s eyes again. She tries to hold the sudden tears at bay and usually she wouldn’t listen to a conversation across the room, usually she’d let it just be a dull murmur, but not this time, this time she’s tuned in to every word, tuned into the quick heartbeat of the woman at the door.

“Can I see Kara?” Lena asks, her eyes still on Kara even though she’s talking to Alex.

“Of course, come in.”

Lena’s eyes never leave Kara’s as she crosses the room.

Kara thinks she might break under her look.

Lena only hesitates for a moment before she removes her shoes, taking the seat Alex had occupied only a moment ago, tucking her legs beneath her. She’s not touching Kara once she’s settled, but she’s close, close enough that Kara can feel her warmth beside her.

“Hi,” Kara swallows, fresh tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to keep them away. “What are you doing here?”

“Your sister texted,” Lena says, her voice low, the sound washing over Kara. “I wanted to come and see you before I left.”

Oh, so that’s who Alex must’ve been texting earlier.

Speaking of Alex, she can see her sister in her peripheral vision, lingering in the kitchen. She’s glad her sister is giving them some space.

“When do you leave?” Kara manages to ask as she reaches out, fingers brushing the hem of Lena’s jacket, just to make sure she’s actually here.

“Soon, the jet is waiting for me, whenever I’m ready.”

There’s a long pause after Lena’s words, her eyes still on Kara. It makes Kara want to retreat, want to hide, want to shut her eyes and hope Lena can’t see everything that’s going through Kara’s mind right now.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Kara eventually says, fighting back tears and the other words that rise in her throat, words that ask Lena to stay, or words that tell Lena how she feels. That’s not what Lena needs right now.

“Kara, I-“ Lena starts, stops herself as she looks away. When she looks back, there are tears in her eyes too. Kara reaches out when one spills, catches it with her thumb, wipes it from Lena’s cheek.

“Come here,” Kara says, tugging Lena forward and then they’re hugging, Kara needing the contact as much as Lena does, if the way the other woman leans into the embrace is any indication.

“Come with me,” Lena says, the words brushing against Kara’s neck as she says them. If Kara didn’t have superhearing, she might have missed them but she hears them loud and clear.

“What?” Kara asks anyway, pulling away to look at Lena, so close now in their half embrace.

“I want to find out more about my mother, I do, but that’s only part of the reason I was leaving.” Lena’s fingers tangle in the collar of Kara’s sweater. “I was leaving, or running is more of an apt description, I was running because it scared me, how much I felt, seeing you again. I was running to give myself some space to sort out my feelings, but then Alex texted and said you were upset and I couldn’t leave, I just couldn’t, not knowing you were upset. You mean too much to me and I was stupid to ever try to leave, not when the thought of being away from you again hurts so much.

“So, come with me, you deserve a break too. Or I’ll stay here, whatever you want.”

Kara’s crying now too as she leans forward, her forehead falling to rest against Lena’s. She takes a deep breath, feels like she can properly breathe for the first time since Lena told her she was leaving, knowing she’s not losing her.

“You’ll really stay, if I ask you too?” Kara asks, hands at the back of Lena’s neck, holding her close, hoping this isn’t some dream she’s about to wake up from.

“I will,” Lena says, the words brushing against Kara’s mouth as Lena tilts forward and then Kara doesn’t really think about it, she just acts, her chin tipping up slightly and then she’s kissing Lena, lips molding under hers as Lena kisses back, no hesitance in the touch.

It only lasts a few moments, before they’re pulling away, but it’s like Kara’s whole world has been flipped on its head, warmth spreading through her body, finally feeling warm after all those cold days and nights in the Phantom Zone.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Kara says, fingers tangling in the hair at Lena’s neck.

“You won’t,” Lena replies, and she sounds so sure, that Kara believes her.

“Can we stay here for a bit?” Kara asks, eyes finding Alex in the kitchen, who’s staring at them, wide-eyed. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t see this coming. “I’m not ready to leave Alex yet.” She turns back to Lena, finds the other woman smiling at her. “But then later, in a few weeks, I’d really like to go away with you, help you find more out about your mother.”

“Of course,” Lena says. She tilts her head again, but this time to press a kiss to Kara’s forehead. “I’d really like that too.”

Her article gets abandoned, but Kara doesn’t care, not when she ends up on the couch, a movie playing on the TV screen that’s she’s barely paying attention to. Alex is on one side of her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, snoring lightly, and on the other is Lena, their tangled hands resting in Lena’s lap as Lena plays with her fingers.

Kara never thought she’d feel this happy ever again but here she is, back with her sister and her best friend who isn’t just her best friend anymore.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #danvers sisters #I'll post this on ao3 later #supergirl 6x08 #ask #anon #thanks for the prompt

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reuinx · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Yelena Belova x Reader)

Summary: You are looking forward to eating with Yelena tonight, but when you open Yelena's phone, you see an unwanted message. As you confront Yelena you uncover the truth that things are not as they seem.

Word Count: 1,523

Translations: Malishka (Baby Girl)

Masterlist

Yelena was cooking tonight; she had recently ordered a new apron online, which arrived during the week. Despite her reluctance to reveal what design she got on it, she couldn't keep her mouth shut about it. As soon as you told Yelena about the package, her face lit up. As if it were Christmas morning, she ripped it open with glee. When she saw it, her face dropped, and you had no idea why. It wasn't until she held it up to show you what was done that you realized what had happened.

The funny thing was that in the center of the apron, it read "Your Design Here." They had not taken her request and sent her the default design. Yelena shook her head in disappointment. You knew she was going to moan about it for the next week but still keep it.

"Blyad, it was supposed to be my design!"

"Well.. technically it is?" You commented humorously as Yelena frowned at you; she didn't like that. You corrected yourself

"What was it going to say then?"

"Less Upsetti more spaghetti." She commented, she always made you laugh without fail.

"I can’t believe you wanted that on an apron! Why would you want that?"

"Because it would make you laugh.”

She was like sunshine after a storm. As the night continued, it was already clear how everything would turn out. In spite of the fact that she hadn't even started, she insisted she needed a bathroom break. You knew she was just in the bedroom frantically using your laptop to try to find something to cook for you. You'd often see her searches in your history; you found it sweet that she didn't just think about herself. She desired to appear selfish, but she was one of the most selfless people you've ever known. Purity was her intention.

You had been snuggled in Yelena's hoodie, wrapped up on the couch. You loved wearing her clothes because she always smelled so good. She smelt like home. Her hoodie finally provided you with the comfort you were looking for today. The phone of Yelena lit up and disturbed you. While it was her turn to cook dinner, she had been charging it next to you. Her getting a notification wouldn't have made you blink an eyelid. Yelena's phone screen flickered again with an unfamiliar name, "Emily." There was probably nothing important going on, but you glanced at her screen, scrunching your nose up. You told yourself that you wouldn't look, you wouldn't. You did anyway.

You have never been through Yelena's stuff, so you aren't aware of what overcame you. She was open with you from the very beginning, but you never needed access to her accounts since you trusted her. You might not have been wise to do that. You titled your head as you read the message, feeling guilty for doing so, but it probably wasn't anything serious.

"Loved seeing you today! Let me know if you need anything else <3. Can't wait to see you Wednesday!" It did not take long for your stomach to tighten as your eyes continued to trace over the same message. Who was this girl? Yelena said she had been visiting Natasha today; she was gone for a while. All this time, she told you everything, but not this? She lied to you. Did she even go and see Natasha? She was always so vocal. You could feel your hands trembling as you shut your eyes. To accuse her correctly, you must be sure of your accusations. Your birthday was her passcode, and you slowly entered it. As you scrolled through, you saw the chat open in front of you.

Yelena never mentioned Emily to you despite the recent frequent phone calls with her. When did these calls even take place? Your stress level was rising. There was nothing worse than realizing that someone you held on a pedestal wasn't as perfect as you had thought they were.

"Send me that picture again," Yelena wrote at one point, the image didn't load for you, but you read her comment.

"So Pretty! "You felt sick now. The pictures wouldn't load, and you felt like everything you had built with Yelena was crumbling around you. Should you confront her or leave? You were dealing with a flight or fight reaction, and flight won hands down. Yelena had entered the room before you were able to get up. With a pot on her head and two spatulas in her hands, she made her way towards you. She treated them like lobsters claws. Wearing her "Your Design Here!" Apron, you knew she wasn't going to return it.

"Time to kiss the chef, I need inspiration for dinner" As Yelena approached you with a t-rex-like ambling, she yipped out.

"Rawr, rawr, rawr!" In an attempt to resemble the mightier beast, she pulled her arms close to her chest. With the pot still on her head, she dropped the spatulas to the floor when she saw your blank expression. She was in trouble. Yelena was always so protective over you; she'd drop anything and everything to make sure you were okay.

"What's happened, Malysh?" She questioned as she approached you, carefully lifting the pot off her head and setting it down on the table. With your look on her face, she knew something was wrong. As you stared across at her, you slowly put down her phone. It was not anger or sadness that you felt; it was numbness.

"Where were you today?" You quizzed her, your eyes burning through her. When Yelena was telling the truth, she consistently maintained eye contact. When she lied, she couldn't bear to look at you.

"I was with Natasha, why?" Yelena questioned quietly with her eyes studying your face, and she held eye contact until you spoke again.

"Just Natasha."

"Yes."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you! I never lie to you!"

"Who's Emily then? Apparently you hung out today," You managed to say as Yelena was looking away from you. She suddenly looked back at you with a look of regret in her eyes. She did a double-take. She wasn't going to lie to you. She knew the name.

"You know then" When Yelena raised her hand to her forehead, her face became stern, and her face was strained in colour.

"I know."

"I don't know what to say."

"You lied to me, Yelena. You've been lying to me."

"You weren't suppose to know. I can explain, I will explain. Please just give me a chance. I wanted it to be perfec-" Your sudden movement off the couch prompted you to walk over to her, you shoved her shoulders, but she did not move. As she tried to comprehend what was happening, she blinked rapidly.

"Hey, hey! Stop! What's wrong!? I thought you'd be happy! You could just say no to me! You'd break my heart but that's okay considering you'd be the one breaking it. I didn't think you'd react like this!" Yelena snapped out, holding your wrists up so that you wouldn't trash about, her voice dripping with concern. You tried to pull your wrists out of her grip, but you couldn't. She held onto you; she was taller than you and buckled her knees to make eye contact with you as she searched for answers.

"Happy?! Happy. Why the fuck would I be happy, Yelena? You couldn't of just broke up with me before I went and fell in love with you, no?!" Yelena noticed that your temper had gotten out of control. She opened her mouth unexpectedly, her face awash in confusion.

"Why would I want to break up with you?! Wait...What do you think I was doing?" As she let go of your wrists, Yelena raised an eyebrow as her arms crossed her chest.

"I don't know?! I didn't mean to look through your phone but I saw the messages, Yelena. Are you cheating on me?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You think I'm cheating on you with Emily?"

"Well, are you?! I'd rather you be honest with me."

"How much of the messages did you read?"

"Enough"

"Well, clearly not enough if you believe I'm cheating on you, Pridurok." Yelena explained softly as she took a step towards you; she quickly grabbed you by your waist as she pushed you up against the apartment's wall. You trashed about in her arms, trying to break free from Yelena’s strong grasp.

"Get off, Yelena."

"Emily is a Jeweller!"

"Does it look like I was asking what her profession was!"

“What?!”

“I didn’t ask what her-“

"Emily is a Jeweller. My Jeweller!"

"And?!"

"She's designing your engagement ring with me!"

"What?"

"I'm proposing to you! Not now obviously but I will be!" She spoke; you couldn't speak. In a sudden burst of laughter, her teeth were visible as she grinned at you. She shook her head in disapproval at your reaction.

"I can't believe you thought I was cheating, how many times have I told you that you're it for me? You're just grumpy because you're hungry. Little monster."

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rickmandowneyjr · 3 years

Text

Cuts to Cope

Angst, fluff Pairing: Severus Snape and Student!Reader (platonic) Warning: talk of self-harm, mentions of character's death Word Count: 2348 A/N: This is a little piece I wrote a while ago but didn't know if I should post or not. After re-doing certain bits, I decided to upload it. Hope it's not too difficult to read. As always, the ending is a little abrupt and not too detailed, leaving it sort of up to y'all as well :) Sorry if there are any typos (I only ever get the time to write when it's quite late nowadays)

Yet another day at Hogwarts - waking up at 6:30 am, showering, getting dressed in your robes, and heading to breakfast. Wishing everyone you passed a good morning, wearing your signature smile as you did.

You were a 7th year, one of the few returning ones after last year's incident with Cedric Diggory. He'd been your best friend, or at least that's what people thought. Cedric Diggory and you had been dating for the last 7 months before his death. You didn't want anyone knowing because being star students meant eyes prying into every aspect of your relationship.

People praised you, a model student and now, prefect, who set an example. An example of how to be strong and cope no matter what life threw at you. Little did they know, you harboured a little secret. A dark, horrifying, and disturbing secret that would never let anyone look at you the same way if they ever found out.

Your first class for the day was Potions. You were a brilliant student, especially at Potions, yet Snape still had something against you. You didn't take it personally, though; he wasn't really fond of anyone. You walked into class, taking your regular seat at the front. Snape walked into class a little while later, slamming the door behind him, commanding everyone's attention.

"Turn to page 420," he drawled. You opened the book to find the recipe for Amortentia. Your heart felt a tug at the name of the love potion, never having been able to find out the answers with Cedric.

Snape's deep voice brought your focus back to class as he said, "Since it takes a week to brew, I've already completed most of the process. All you need to do is the last day's work," making the class sigh with relief. "However," he continued, "The last day of brewing is crucial and not easy. So, I expect your attention to be fully on the task at hand."

You began brewing the potion, following the steps perfectly. Snape sat down to grade papers as the class worked. He looked at you and said, "Ms. [L/N], roll up your sleeves while you work. I'd hate for there to be mishaps in my class because of one student's carelessness."

You hesitated, but then did as asked. You weren't the best at wandless magic but had made sure to perfect this spell solely for such instances. As you rolled your sleeves, you subtly waved your hand over your forearms, mumbling, "Illusiont," and casting the disillusionment charm.

You saw Snape narrow his eyes at you and panicked for a second before you saw him shake his head and return to grading. Breathing a sigh of relief, you returned to the task at hand and continued brewing.

After a while, you'd finished, and were the first one to have done so. Snape walked over to your desk and took a whiff of the potion, raising an eyebrow before giving you a single nod of approval, letting you know that it was perfect. Once everyone was done, he walked around, starting at the back, and asked everyone to announce what they smelled. You hadn't smelled your Amortentia yet and hadn't planned on doing so either, feeling quite relieved when Snape hadn't asked that question earlier.

Your heart rate quickened as you began to worry about how your body and mind would react to smelling it. You couldn't do it last year, since the Triwizard tournament had led to a bunch of classes being cancelled. As you thought about how excited you had been at the prospect of sharing the experience with Cedric, Snape's voice pulled you back to your potions class.

"Ms. [L/N]."

"Yes, sir?"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What. Do. You. Smell," he spoke, irritation evident in every word.

You swallowed hard as you leaned forward to inhale the scent. Your pupils dilated, your heartbeat quickened and your knees threatened to give out at the all-too-familiar fragrance. Your throat went dry as you stopped the tears from forming.

"Well? We haven't got all day, class is to be dismissed soon." He raised an eyebrow at you, asking you to hurry up since you were the last one.

With every ounce of energy, you calmed yourself and stopped your voice from wavering. "Old books, butterscotch and... vanilla," you sighed. Your breathing was erratic and you knew you needed to get out of class and get to the abandoned girls' washroom.

As if on cue, the bell rang, dismissing the class. Snape gave you an odd look and was about to ask you what was wrong but you had already gathered your belongings and were marching out the door. He decided to follow you since he'd never seen you act like that before and was wondering what had happened to you all of a sudden.

You made your way up the stairs, hurrying before you had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. As you reached the washroom, you started rummaging through your bag since the hallway was empty. You took the small blade that you carried around out, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Snape's POV

I followed her out of the classroom. Though not my favourite, [Y/N] was an incredible witch and this wasn't normal behaviour for her. She'd marched out before I had even dismissed class which concerned me even more, given her usually 'perfect' behaviour. She paced through the hallways and up the stairs so fast that I could've sworn she was moving around faster than I did on a normal basis. There was an urgency in her stride and I don't know why, but it concerned me.

She finally turned into the hallway leading to the girls' washroom on the third floor, which was odd. No one used this, as far as I was aware. I was a little embarrassed, considering I'd just followed a young girl to a washroom. In an isolated area, at that. I swear I never would've imagined myself going even further and following her in, but what I'd seen had shocked and concerned me enough to do just that.

End of Snape's POV

As you entered the bathroom, you had missed Snape, whose eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. [Y/N] [L/N], the golden girl of Hogwarts, had just walked into an abandoned washroom after pulling out a blade from her bag. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he rushed in, wanting to confirm what his eyes had just seen.

As you were about to enter a stall, the door to the bathroom, swung open, making you jump. You hid the blade by making a fist, unintentionally cutting into your palm. You winced at the unexpected pain but didn't let it show.

You turned to face Professor Snape, and he was eyeing your hand. 'There's no way he saw it, is there?' you thought.

"Ms. [L/N], care to show me your hands?"

You panicked. He knew. You tried to divert his attention. "Sir, this is the girls' washroom."

"I'm aware," he stated. "Now... Hands," he said as he glared at you, letting you know that he wouldn't fall for any attempts to change the subject.

You sighed and opened your hands, and saw his gaze soften. He walked to you taking your hand in his as he gently pulled the razor out. You winced as it came out, knowing this would impair you for the rest of your classes.

"What were you thinking?!" He scolded, startling you. He reached for your arm, rolling up your sleeves once again and muttered, "Finite."

The scars on your arms started showing up and you couldn't do anything but look away, your eyes resting anywhere but his gaze.

"So that was the Disillusionment Charm I heard you use, earlier."

You stayed silent, still refusing to meet his eyes. Of all the professors, it had to be him. Sure, he wasn't fond of you, but you had immense respect for the man, and to let him see you in this light... it took every bit of you to not lose your composure.

"Look at me," he said.

You turned to face him. His usually cold eyes showed too much concern and the uncharacteristic response from the potions master was proving to be a lot to handle. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you.

"Why?" He asked, his voice so genuine that you couldn't help but let your emotions spill, creating a mess that you couldn't be bothered to care about anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you sniffled. "I don't want to. He was everything to me and it just hurts so much."

"Who?"

"Cedric."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware you and Mr. Diggory were best friends. I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

"No," you said, finally being able to talk to someone about it. "He was my boyfriend. And... I never got to tell him I loved him... because I wasn't sure. Today just made it worse when I smelled him in my Amortentia. It confirmed that I did and I never got to say it." You were sobbing now, not caring what you looked like, what a mess you probably were, or what Snape was thinking of you and your confession.

You felt him awkwardly wrap his arms around you as he pulled your head to his chest. Your cries got louder and your wails of agony echoed in the empty washroom as your hands clutched the fabric of his robes. The feeling of someone comforting you was overwhelming. You'd always had to keep up this image of a perfect student, reliable friend, someone who could never have such horrifying tendencies.

Even then, as you cried out loud, your instinct made you bury your face in his chest, muffling the 'ugly' sobs. Snape's heart broke as your thoughts flooded his mind. As you struggled to breathe, he turned your head slightly, making you audible again. He didn't hush you; just stroked your hair as your tears soaked his robes.

It took a while, but you finally calmed down, your sobs reducing to soft whimpers before they died out entirely. Your throat was sore, and lips, chapped from all the crying. Your eyes were red and puffy, and the reality of the situation finally came crashing down on you.

Your secret was out. More than one, at that. One of the professors knew, and the strictest one too. You had just spent Merlin knows how long crying into his chest, which was now soaked with your tears.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your voice, hoarse. "Your robes are all wet now," you said, trying to move away.

"That's the least of my worries right now," he said, keeping your head in place as he continued, "I understand what you're going through. Better than you'd know." It sounded like it was painful for him to talk about it, the tone of his voice giving the vulnerability away. "But this is not the way to deal with it," he said as rubbed your back.

"Does it go away?"

"I'll be honest," he sighed. "It does get lesser with time if you allow yourself to heal. However, it never goes away entirely. A part of you will always love and miss him. I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm glad. I don't want to forget him. Or my love for him. Cedric Diggory was and will always be - my first love."

You finally pulled away from his chest and looked him in the eyes as he gave you a gentle smile. You managed to muster a somber one and sighed.

"Do any of your friends know?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Why not? They're your friends. They could-"

"I can't have this getting out. Everyone will-"

"Who cares what people think?" He raised his voice. It was silent for a while before he sighed and spoke again.

"[Y/N], I want you to promise me something."

You knew what was coming. You gulped and nodded softly.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop this. Cedric wouldn't want this for you."

"I know, and I've tried before. It's not that simple-"

"I know," he said, cutting you off. "Which is why, the next time you get the urge to do this, you'll come to me. No matter what the situation might be."

You were surprised at his words. It was incredibly nice of him to offer this to you, and you nodded, accepting his generosity.

"Also," he continued, "Please stop going to such great lengths to please others and worrying about what others think. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"But nothing. Your health is suffering and you can't even bring yourself to tell anyone because you're so busy keeping up this little charade of 'everything is fine'."

You stayed silent. There was truth in his words and you couldn't refute his accusations. You just looked up at him, once again, finding the uncharacteristic concerned look meeting your gaze. Nodding softly, you agreed. How could you not when someone had shown you such consideration and compassion?

A small smile graced his usually stoic face as he helped you up, and you both made your way out of the bathroom. He escorted you back to your dormitories, ensuring you were alright before the two of you parted ways.

The rest of the school year passed and Snape stayed true to his word, and you to yours. Every time you felt the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the pain, you'd find Snape. He was patient and helped you every step of the way. Slowly, but surely, you were able to overcome your urges and also found yourself living for yourself, rather than up to others' expectations.

By the time you graduated, you had overcome the habit and thanked Snape in your graduation speech, never giving away the details as to why. A lot of people had assumed there was something between the two of you, especially since you went to meet him all through the school year, but you didn't let it bother you, because... Who cares what people think, right?

P.S. - Sorry I've been a little slow with the writing. My college assignments have started rolling in and I'm currently swamped. Also, I'm working on a little something (announcing it in 2-3 days so make sure to check in lol). Rest assured, I'm slowly and steadily making my way through requests. Thank you for understanding <3

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies

(Plus Jango)

A scene from the Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Warnings for: canon-typical discussion of slavery.

Shmi is eleven years old when the stranger comes.

He’s tall, and covered in the kind of dark clothes that are hell in the desert. He’s got some armor, too, but not as much as the Mandalorians she sees walking around sometimes. His expression is mean, even though he’s smiling, and she thinks the trader is scared of him.

He’s buying her.

“Now I just need a name for the ownership paperwork,” the trader says. She thinks he’s sweating.

“The sale is already completed, yes?” the stranger says. He tilts his head and purses his lips, still smirking. “No sudden fees coming my way?”

“Of course not, honored customer,” the trader simpers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Shmi’s heart stops. That’s her family name.

The trader gets a little paler, as he realizes why this man is here. Shmi watches the calculations fly, wondering if he can maybe squeeze out a few extra wupiupi on this sale. Former slaves freeing family, even family they don’t know, always fetches the highest price.

The stranger—Anakin—leans across the counter and looms over the trader, smiling in the most threatening way Shmi’s ever seen. “No sudden fees, right?”

“Well, there will be the code transfer f—”

“I’m the most dangerous person in this city,” the man says, smile dropping away like flies from a bantha. “Don’t make me prove it, friend.”

The sale is secured, the codes handed over, the detonator passing hands.

Shmi falls into step next to Anakin, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. He takes her a few blocks away without a word, and then into a shallow spot in an alleyway, right where foot traffic won’t be a bother.

“Hey,” he says, dropping to one knee and placing himself where, even when she sets her gaze low, he’ll be there. He smiles at her, hesitant but far, far kinder than what she saw in the shop. “Do you want me to deactivate your chip now, or once we’re on my ship? I can’t remove it until we’re out of here; I’m no surgeon.”

“…now, please,” she whispers, and watches him punch in the numbers and codes to neutralize the bomb she’s carried inside herself since she was three. It’s done in less than two minutes.

“Do you want me to break this?” he asks, voice soft.

She nods, and watches in fascination as he crushes it in his fist with seemingly no effort.

He smiles at her, tosses the shards into the nearest compactor, and then offers her the hand that isn’t in a glove. She takes it, like she used to take her mom’s before they were separated, and follows him through Mos Pelgo. He’s family. He’s cleanly, clearly freed her. She should be able to trust him.

“Where are we going?” she manages to work up the courage to ask.

His stride stutters a bit, his hand squeezing hers, but his voice is even when he speaks. “Well, I would like you to stay with me, but if you have… have any family to return to, that you know how to find…”

“I don’t know where my mom is,” she says. “She got sold when I was four.”

He squeezes her hand again, and she dares to look at his face. His eyes are squinted, angry, and focused on the horizon. She’d call it stormy, if she’d ever been to a planet of water, but she was a child of the desert. She could feel his anger, and it wasn’t hot and sharp and blinding enough to be a storm of sand.

(She felt that it could be, in the intuition that had kept her alive these past years.)

“I see,” he says. “I’m… okay, then. I’d try to find her if I could, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Shmi shrugs. “She was sent to Jabba’s. I don’t think she’s… um. She’s probably dead, now.”

He’s silent in response to that.

“How did you find me?” she asks, because her intuition says to trust this man to keep her alive, even if she thinks she may not trust his temper.

He thinks about that for a second, and then lets go of her hand for a moment to brush aside a layer of his tunic.

A lightsaber.

Her eyes dart up to his, wide and maybe a little awed. He grins, a little more carefree than before.

“Jeedai?”

“A full Jedi knight, believe it or not,” he confirms. “The Force led me to find you. I don’t think I’d have been able to do locate you without it.”

“Wizard,” she whispers, and then he pulls her into his side and out of the way of a large, too-fast-for-these-streets speeder.

He swears under his breath in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“So, I’m going with you,” she says. “Um, where… where do Jedi live?”

“The Temple is on Coruscant,” he tells her. “But I’ve got business in Mandalorian space, so that’s where I’m based out of right now.”

“Okay,” she says. Mandalore… maybe that’s why he’s got armor like one of them. “I… I heard that Jedi are all called Master, so—”

“No,” Anakin snaps, turning around and getting to one knee in front of her again, hands on both her shoulders, stopping her in a fraction of a second with a look so intense that it scares her. “No, you are never to call me that. You are never going to bow your head to a master again, okay? You are free, and you are family.”

She stares at him for a long second, and then nods. She thinks her head jerks a bit too sharply, but he’s scary. He cares so much that it frightens her. He must be able to tell, because he closes his eyes and visibly forces himself to calm down.

“I was freed when I was nine,” he tells her. “By a Jedi Master. And I know… I know how uncomfortable it is to live like that, where the word means something different to you than it does to everyone else. I became a Jedi, so I learned to make it mean what it was supposed to, respect for teachers and—and elders. But you, you’re not a Jedi, you’re just a girl, and you matter, and—don’t make yourself say it. Please.”

“Okay,” she says. “Do I just… do I just call you Anakin, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and his hands twitch on her shoulders. She thinks he wants to pull her into a hug, but is forcing himself to stop. “Or Ani, if you want, my—my mom used to call me that. Seems like something to keep for family.”

“Okay,” she says again. She can do that.

“Or, um,” he hesitates, and then barrels on. “We’ll be in Mandalore. They say ori’vod to mean older sibling. So, er, you can call me that. If you want. You don’t have to.”

She’ll have to practice. It looks like it means a lot to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” he says, and dithers for a moment before he stands up and turns around, black robes flaring. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun.”

He leads her to just outside the city limits, where there’s a small ship waiting, enough for a half-dozen people on longer trips, maybe. She doesn’t know much about ships, but this one’s covered in scratches and pits, like it’s been in fights and come out the other side.

They open the door, and are met with wailing.

Anakin rushes past her, shouting, “Ben!”

Shmi doesn’t follow immediately, but he’s been pretty insistent that she’s family, not property. She’s allowed inside.

She finds Anakin in the main room, holding a baby and bouncing it in his arms as he hisses a demand to a boy only a few years older than Shmi herself.

“—my kids, Jango!”

“I’m here to babysit the ship, not the baby!” the teenager argues back.

Anakin scoffs and turns his attention to the baby in his arms. Shmi isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks the baby is definitely less than a year old. It quiets in his arms, tiny hands fisting in the fabric she knows is still too hot from the sun outside.

“Shmi, you can sit down,” he tells her, distracted. “I’d love to talk more but I think I need to make a bottle for Ben. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looks around, sees a bench, and sits down. She presses her hands together in her lap, keeps her eyes on the japor charm her mother left with her years ago, hanging around her wrist. She can wait. She’s patient. She’ll figure out how freedom works eventually.

“Mmmmmmbook!”

Shmi jolts in her seat as a very small body collides with her leg, blue and white and giggling. The head of that small body turns up to stare at her with massive eyes, and she sees the child’s face is orange. Togruta, she thinks, and very young.

The little one pushes a flimsi book onto Shmi’s lap and pats at it, grinning up at Shmi with tiny, pearly teeth.

“Ad’ika, she just got here,” the-teenager-that-is-probably-named-Jango sighs, dropping into the seat next to Shmi. “Let her rest.”

“Sto-wee!” the baby Togruta insists, patting at Shmi’s leg. The little one tries to climb up onto the bench, and Shmi reaches out to help after she realizes the toddler is about to slip. She receives, in thanks, a delighted grin and a montral to the ribs as the child hugs her.

“’m Soka!” the little one introduces.

“She’s one of Skywalker’s,” probably-Jango says. “He showed up with those two a few months ago in the middle of a chaak’la snowstorm.”

“No!” Soka insists, slapping her little hand on the book a few times. “No ‘ssip! Book!”

Jango lets his head fall against the metal wall behind them. “Fine. No gossip.”

Shmi looks at the little girl, and then back at the book. She’s… well, she can read. Mostly. She can read better than most slaves her age, but this is Basic, not Huttese.

She cracks it open to the first page, finds herself relieved that it really is a children’s story with small words and big letters, and starts reading it out loud. She goes slow. The story is about an eopie trying to find its way home after getting lost, asking other farm animals for help. There are plenty of pictures, and sometimes Soka pats at the book and shouts the name of an animal. It’s very cute, overall.

About two-thirds of the way through, she stumbles. It’s a word she hasn’t seen before, long and with repeating letters that she can’t quite figure out how to say. She pauses, long enough that she’s sure little Soka is confused about why she’s stopped.

“Happabore,” Jango mutters.

Shmi lifts her head, but he’s not looking at her. She looks down at the book again, mouths the letters to herself, and thinks that yes, that probably fits. She keeps reading aloud, letting little Soka tell her about her favorite animals, and when she finishes and looks up, it’s to find Anakin standing across from them.

He’s leaning against a doorframe, bottle-feeding the baby named Ben, and watching them with an expression Shmi thinks might be ‘wistful.’

“Skyguy!” Little Soka cheers, sliding off the bench so she can toddle over to the man as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Skyguy, gots a fweind!”

He smiles indulgently and lets her hug his leg. “I can see that, Snips. You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” the little one tells him. She raises her hands at him. “Up!”

“Sorry, hun, no can do,” Anakin apologizes. “I’m feeding Ben, and I need both hands for that.”

She pouts, and he jerks his chin at Shmi and Jango. “Go back to the bench and you can help me feed him, okay?”

Soka races back.

“Fett, go get the ship powered up,” Anakin says as he ambles over, voice the kind of casually commanding that gives Shmi goosebumps. It’s not familiar, not the way an owner is, but it’s… it’s a voice that’s very used to having authority. “I want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am the commanding officer according to Jaster,” Anakin says, and Shmi watches him raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s not much of a mission, but I am in charge until we’re back on Concord Dawn. You want me to tell him you’re playing at insubordination?”

Jango makes a face, sticking out his tongue. Anakin waits.

Jango goes to start the ship.

“Teenagers,” Anakin mutters, shaking his head. “I want to say I was never that bad, but I’d be lying.”

Soka giggles, bouncing in her seat as Anakin carefully lowers himself down next to her. “Okay, okay, settle down. He’s cranky, kiddo.”

“Wanna help,” Soka stresses, reaching for the bottle. Anakin shifts away from her, keeping it out of her reach. “Skyguy!”

“Slow down, Snips,” he chides. “Climb on my lap and we can hold him together, okay?”

Shmi fiddles with her japor snippet, but she can’t help her fascination with the dynamic presented. Anakin obviously isn’t related to Soka by blood, but he’s adopted her as his own. They haven’t said as much, but it’s obvious. He can’t stop smiling as he talks the girl through holding the bottle for her baby brother, even though it’s obvious from the outside that he’s the one actually holding it, and her, and the baby.

The ship hums to life around them. Anakin tilts his head, as if listening to something, and then goes back to the baby.

It’s another minute before Anakin says, “Okay, that’s enough. I need to burp him. Go on, scoot.”

Soka grimaces as well as a two-year-old can, and slides off of Anakin’s lap onto the bench. He stands and presses the baby up to his shoulder, patting it on the back. There’s a towel there already, something Shmi hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I’m going to go check on Jango,” he tells them. “Shmi, can you get Soka in her seat? I’ll tell you how to buckle her in, but I promised Jango he could fly us back and I want to sit up there to make sure he gets us into hyperspace without, say, exploding.”

It’s only a minute or two to get both of them sat down and buckled in, and Soka spends the entire time until lift-off telling Shmi about how much she likes eopies. This continues well until they end up in hyperspace, the jolt of it making the little one squeal in excitement, even if Shmi feels her stomach drop out. Shortly after, the boys wander back in.

“We’re good for a couple hours,” Anakin says. “Nav computer’s got it until we jump back out. Anyone want a snack?”

“Me!” Soka screeches, bouncing in her seat. “Jan-Jan, snacktime!”

Anakin’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Well, seems like you’ve got a fan, Fett.”

“Shut up,” Jango grumbles, but he does go over and pick Soka out of her child seat, setting her on his hip and going in the direction of what Shmi assumes is the galley.

“You doin’ okay?” Anakin asks, carefully taking the seat next to her. He sits Ben up on his lap, but the baby has trouble staying in that position. Anakin takes his hands, letting tiny fists curl around his thumbs, to help him stay up.

“It’s a lot,” she says. “But I am happy to be free.”

He grins at her. “Glad to hear it. It’s a lot to adjust to, I know, but… I’m happy to have you with us.”

She nods, eyes on the baby that’s swaying from side to side as Anakin moves his hands, like a very, very small speeder pilot.

“Is he, um, yours?” Shmi asks. “Or did you adopt, like Soka?”

Anakin’s smile, so full of love, drops off. He presses his lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Shmi wonders if she’s made a horrible misstep.

“What… what do you know about Jedi relationships?” Anakin asks, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” she admits, but she’s not ashamed of that. Nobody knows much about the Jedi.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Okay, so… okay. There are a couple ranks in the Order. Younglings go in the crèche, communally raised in groups, and then when they’re five or so, they get to become Initiates. A few years later, usually between ten and fourteen, they can enter an apprenticeship to a Jedi Knight or Master, and the apprentice rank is Padawan. When the apprenticeship is done, they become Knights, basically journeymen, and at some point after that, Masters. There are positions that technically rank higher, councils and heads of divisions, and there’s stuff outside the apprenticeship system, like the service corps, but that’s not super relevant. It’s complicated but we’re only focusing on the apprenticeship path for knights.”

He hesitates, and then continues. “One of the ways to become a Master in the Order is to successfully raise a Padawan to knighthood. I was never an Initiate, because I came to the Order so much later than most. I immediately became a Padawan, and my master was freshly knighted. The relationship between master and padawan is… it’s family. Some of the more orthodox of the Order don’t like to put it in those words, but it really is.

“If I ever talk about my Master, just know I’m not talking about any of the owners I had before I was freed. I’m talking about the man who raised me, the man I saw as a father. He may not have seen me as a son, more a brother, but he was only sixteen years older than me, and… anyway. Jedi lineages are family. Your Master is a parent, or an older sibling, and your Padawan is a child to bring up as your own,” he finishes this off with the kind of deep, heavy breath that she thinks precedes grief. She can’t tell.

“My master is… well, he’s not in a position to teach anyone anything anymore. Ben here is all I have left of him.”

Oh.

Anakin doesn’t look at her, just stares down at the baby that’s gotten cranky again, and rearranges Ben to lie sideways in his arms. He smiles down as the baby burbles up at him, and tickles at the baby’s stomach. Ben grabs at Anakin’s fingers and kicks at the air, laughing in the manner of all children that small.

The man hums, and Shmi is more shocked than she should be to hear one of the lullabies she’s heard in slave quarters all her life.

“He’s your son now,” she says, more firmly than she feels. “He is yours to raise and care for, and I can tell you love him as much as any parent.”

Anakin lifts his head, staring at her like he can’t quite believe she’s there, and tears collect at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you, Shmi Skywalker,” he says, and she feels like there’s more weight in those words than there should be. He licks his lips, eyes darting away for a second, and then asks, “do you want to hold him?”

She steels herself, and nods.

This is her family now.

Hers.

#Shmi Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Jango Fett #star wars #time travel #de aging #parenting #childcare #baby characters #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #outside pov

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edendaphne · 3 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘[email protected]’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S. Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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nanasparadise · 3 years

Text

“Imprisonment” Yan!Jolyne x female reader

This blog was in dire need of some wlw content. In that sense, I hope you had a happy pride month and enjoy this piece!

Summary: You are the target of many inmates in Green Dolphin. That changes when Jolyne becomes your cellmate, for the better or worse.

TW: toxic relationship, prison, bullying, violence, insults, threats, slight gore (ear mutilation), noncon kiss, allusions to NSFW, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

Word count: 2853

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

„Get your ass moving, girl!”

You truly hated it here. A day spent at Green Dolphin felt like being ten years in hell. The queue in the prison cafeteria moved forward quickly, since everyone got the same horrible food. As you hadn’t reacted fast enough, you’d received rude comments. At this point, you didn’t care about the insults anymore. You were used to them, you had no affiliation with anyone here, meaning the other inmates saw you as fair game. In addition to your nature as a pushover, you weren’t surprised to be the target of many prisoner’s sadistic streak.

You took your tray containing your lunch – a portion of rather questionable meat and some mashed potatoes – and went to your solitary table. A blissful sigh escaped your lips when you finally were alone in your corner. No, worse than any insults or solitude were the threats, hidden under fake smiles. Not a single day went without them. You always were forced to do ‘voluntary tasks’ for the designated mean girls of Green Dolphin or ‘lend’ them money. It was humiliating, really, but you didn’t want to end up beaten to death in your cell, so you followed their instructions.

Once you completed the laundry task, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library, hoping to find an interesting enough book to teleport you away for a couple hours from your harsh reality. You settled into the couch with a novel in your hands, enjoying this slight moment of calmness. Your peace was short-lived though as a blonde woman approached you, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. Oh no, you knew where this would go.

“Hi! How are you doing today?”, she greeted you with a fake happiness swinging in her tone.

“Fine”, you mumbled quietly, not being able to assert yourself.

“I’m glad to hear that!,” she replied, though you knew she didn’t give a shit about your well-being, “Look, I’m so sorry to bother you again, but could you give me ten dollars? I need them for something very important and you’ll get them back in no time!” She batted her eyelashes at you, seemingly coming across as innocent.

“I would, but I forgot the money in my cell”, you countered, trying to come up with an excuse.

“Then stand up and get it.” Her voice had already shifted into a menacing tone, eyes gleaming like a predator.

“I don’t know if I-“

“Y/N, that was your name, right? Well, if you don’t get me my money, our friendship will be ruined and you’re aware of the consequences of that, aren’t you?”, your fellow inmate replied while pulling you by the collar of your uniform up from the couch.

“Right…,” you whispered, accepting your defeat, “I’ll get it for you.”

“Awesome!,” the blonde chirped, all sunshine and rainbows again, “I’ll wait for you here, just don’t take too long.”

That was how your life went. You didn’t complain too much, you knew it could be way worse than that. And it wasn’t as if you had much of a choice to change it anyway. You weren’t going to be released from prison in the next twenty five years. “So just accept it and move on, day by day”, you mused, repeating that thought every day.

Your life took a turn, however, when a new inmate joined Green Dolphin. She was a young woman around your age, dark buns adorning her head and a green fringe framing her face. You had been spared from a cellmate, but that all changed now, as she was your new roomie. “Great,” you thought bitterly, “now my last bit of peace has been stolen from me.”

She introduced herself as Jolyne Kujo. Jolyne seemed to be still quite naïve when it came to prison life, claiming she’d been conned and that her lawyer would certainly take her out from there. “It’s time to face the fact that no one cares if you’re here for a valid reason or not, trust me, I know it from experience”, you thought, though you didn’t dare voice that to her.

She actually turned out to be nice. And with that, you meant that she respected your private space and didn’t threaten you. In exchange, you offered her some advice on who to avoid in jail, which the woman gladly accepted.

At first, the change was barely noticeable. Jolyne kept herself quiet except for the occasional small talk in your cell or during a shared task. Instead, she chose to lounge around two other inmates you hardly knew, one with dark braids and the other with a weird-looking green cap. You were glad to see that at least she formed a group, being able to protect herself now better from potential harassers if needed.

Of course you were still exposed to them. You made your way to the shower as a woman with broad muscles approached you, face turned into a dark grimace. By her build and expression, you’d first assumed she was a guard until you’d noticed the familiar uniform.

“You there!”, she shouted at you, a finger pointing menacingly at you as she came closer, “Give me your money, now!”

You cowered back into the corner of the shower room, panic flooding your system. “I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I don’t have anything on me, I can give it to you after-“

“Don’t fucking play with me, bitch”, she brutely interjected, nostrils flaring up angrily due to exhaling. Your aggressor stood now in front of you, a strong hand wrapping itself around your throat and threatening to cut off your airflow. She yanked you up in the air as she continued her assault. “You think you can pick and choose? Does this place look like fucking Disneyland to you? You better give me my money now if you don’t wanna end up choking water and being beaten up like the dirty street mutt you are.” You were already flinching when the prisoner raised her fist to punch your face as a voice suddenly interrupted you.

“I think that’s enough”, Jolyne said in a firm tone, a fierce expression marking her face.

“And who the hell are you? Wanna join your little friend here?”, your tormentor commented, unimpressed by your cellmate’s entrance.

“Big words for someone who’ll soon be nothing but a bloody pulp”, Jolyne answered, not faltering under the inmate’s glare.

Your harasser proceeded to laugh out loud at her words, obviously not taking her seriously. She dropped you unceremoniously as she shifted all her attention to your saviour instead. Desperately, you panted for air, your hands moving to your hurting throat. You remained in your corner as you observed the scene unfolding in front of you.

“As if you weakling could do anything against me,” your tantaliser spit out, still chuckling at Jolyne’s words, “I’d kill you with my pinky finger.”

Jolyne remained strangely calm, choosing to smile at the threat. “We’ll see about that”, was the only thing she uttered before she lunged at her with incredible speed. Clearly, you weren’t the only one surprised as the inmate’s eyes widened as well. Jolyne turned the bully’s bewilderment into her advantage, her fist immediately connecting with the inmate’s nose. The latter let out a shrill scream, blood dripping out of her nostril. Clearly, she didn’t expect your roommate to do any real damage, let alone break her nose.

Jolyne shook the hand she punched her with, her knuckles reddened and slightly torn open from the assault. You kept staring at both of them, petrified and unsure about what to do now.

“I’ll kill you for that, you bitch,” your aggressor barked out angrily, “and your little friend will pay, too.”

You started trembling at the thought of her hand around your neck again.

“I’ll look for a guard, Jolyne”, you eventually said, the fear barely hidden in your voice. You decided this was enough and someone had to put an end to this.

“Stay here”, your cellmate replied authoritatively. For the first time, you were actually scared of her. “I’ll teach this woman that she needs to face consequences for her actions.”

With these words, Jolyne placed her fingers on your tormentor’s right ear. You wondered what she’d do next when a sudden yell disrupted your thoughts. The inmate’s cry was far worse than the previous one, emitting all of her pain and agony. You could hardly listen to it.

Then, with great horror, you finally noticed it. Her ear shell laid on the floor, blood coating the cut off organ. Your gaze travelled to Jolyne, waiting for an explanation to your unvoiced question, though she kept her eyes fixated on the prisoner’s pain-ridden face.

“You won’t touch Y/N or me ever again, did I make myself clear?”, she asked, her voice coated with barely concealed anger. Your bully only gave out a whimper, but the answer seemed to satisfy Jolyne. “Good. Now, if you see any guards, you keep our names out of your mouth, unless you want to lose another body part.”

The following weeks, Jolyne had become overly protective. She clung to you like a lost child, afraid that you’d be hurt or threatened again without her presence. You didn’t know if you should be grateful or terrified for her protection.

You’d asked her how she’d been able to cut that one prisoner’s ear off, but her explanation had been more confusing than enlightening. She’d talked about a Stand ability and how only so-called Stand users could see and wield it, but nothing made sense to you. You started to believe she’d just lost her mind.

Jolyne had also introduced you to her friend group. Ermes and Foo Fighters seemed nice enough, though they behaved in the same weird manner as your cellmate did. You felt awkward in their presence, not knowing why you were even there in the first place.

In the end, you decided to be thankful. With Jolyne and her friends by your side, no one bullied you anymore. And if your peace meant to spend some time with your cellmate, that was a small price to pay, right?

You didn’t notice the pair of chartreuse eyes observing every bit of your sleeping form. You never did.

Jolyne had been looking at you for many nights. This time, it wasn’t an exception. She tentatively brushed her hand over your cheek, marvelling at your slight reaction as you furrowed your brows at the touch.

“You’re really cute Y/N, do you know that?”, she whispered to you. Of course you were unable to answer.

Jolyne had been unusually shy around you. She was well aware of the fact that after her act of violence, you felt uncomfortable around her, possibly even scared. She tried so so hard to make you see that she was only protecting you! In fact, the young woman wondered how you could have even survived in Green Dolphin before her arrival.

She had a hard time picturing your life without her in it. At first, she’d been furious and crushed at the revelation that her ex-boyfriend had purposefully framed her for a crime she hadn’t committed. She had loved Romeo, so naturally, her heart had been broken.

But then, you entered her life. She saw now why she needed to be here. Who else could protect you, love you, like Jolyne? You were everything she had ever wanted.

Lovingly, she placed a small kiss on your cheek. You stirred slightly from the feathery peck. Nevertheless, you continued your slumber. Jolyne wished she could touch you more deliberately, more intensely. She’d grown tired of this little hiding game. The prisoner didn’t want to secretly let your brush run through her hair anymore, imagining it were your fingers instead or coo at you when you were sleeping. No, she wanted to feel you, to be touched and loved by you.

Sure, you might feel uncomfortable around her, but that was only because you didn’t see how much she cherished you. Maybe it was time to be bolder around you.

“Hey Y/N, could you give me my toothbrush, please?”

“Sure”, you replied casually as you handed the desired object over to her.

“Thanks, you truly are the sweetest.”

Your face heated up at her flirtatious tone. “She definitely didn’t mean it in that way”, you thought to calm your nerves.

“You still don’t want to join me showering? I’d hate for you to get attacked again”, your cellmate asked you, concern swinging in her voice.

“I’m good,” you mumbled, “I’ll just go next morning. And I doubt anyone’s gonna threaten me again after your lesson.” The thought of Jolyne mutilating another inmate terrified you, no matter how much your former aggressor deserved it.

“Come on, you’re just afraid to see me naked,” Jolyne teased while giving you a toothy grin, “it’s alright, you can tell me. I don’t mind.”

You didn’t think you could get more flustered. “That’s not it!”, you countered hastily, “I mean not that you're not a beautiful woman or anything, it’s just that…”

Jolyne stopped listening and straightened her back. You thought she was beautiful? Was this finally the moment she’d been waiting for? A dreamy expression marked her bright eyes.

“You think we could be a thing?”, Jolyne interjected your rambling.

“What?!”, you stuttered, unsure if you heard her correctly.

“I mean, I do really like you.” Suddenly, she stood up from her bed and moved over to you. You stared at her big-eyed, still not knowing what was going on. A hand came resting on your cheek as her gaze was locked on you. “Who am I kidding? I’m totally in love with you.” She softly traced her fingers over your skin, sending a chill down your spine.

“Jolyne”, you whispered quietly. You had no clue how to handle the situation, images of her brutal side flashing up in your mind again. You gulped harshly. “I didn’t know you felt this way, I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” the young woman retorted, “we could just be more, you know?” Jolyne leaned into you, closing the space between you, as her lips landed on yours. She kissed you with gentleness and care, as if you were made of glass. When you felt her teeth slightly tugging at your bottom lip, begging for more, you eventually snapped out of your surprise and pushed her away from you.

“What was that?”, you asked her out of breath, unable to conceal your anger.

“I’ve kissed you, silly.”

“I’ve just told you that I’m not interested in a relationship!”

Ah yes. That must have been when Jolyne had blended you out in favour of marvelling at your compliment.

“I think you should think about that again”, your cellmate replied, a dark edge manifesting in her voice.

“And why is that? Do you want to cut my ear off too?”, you asked, your iritateness making you feel reckless.

Jolyne huffed at your comment. She did that for you!

“At least you could be grateful for what I did,” she spit out, “but no, I’d never hurt you. I can’t guarantee the same thing about the other inmates though.”

You immediately caught onto the threat. Your anger easily transformed into fear again as you realised what impact your words had on the woman in front of you. When Jolyne noticed you wouldn’t counter, she put her hand on your body again, this time deciding to let it travel up and down your arm.

“If you keep saying mean things to me,” she said, her voice still sounding menacing despite her gentle hand movement, “I might just not talk to you anymore. Once the others see that we’re not hanging out anymore, they’ll just change their mind and choose you as their target again. And what do you do without my protection? You don’t want to be their punching bag again, do you, hm?”

“No”, you managed to utter silently, eyes cast onto the floor.

“Look sweetheart, I can make an exception for today. I’ll forget your behaviour and you reciprocate, right? Unless you want to go back to your initial position.”

“No!”, you answered a bit too fast, your eyes looking at her face again. You could only imagine what the inmate with the mutilated ear would do to you… “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Jolyne took hold of chin, ensuring that your eyes were still trained at her. Then, she kissed you again. Despite your feelings, you gave in, much to her pleasure. When she eventually removed her lips from yours, she shot you another love-struck gaze.

You knew your life in Green Dolphin had been shitty before Jolyne, but now you only felt what it meant to be truly imprisoned.

“I’m glad to hear that, honey,” the young woman said with a bedazzling smile on her face, “I’d suggest we finally take a shower, after all I can’t wait to see everything of my darling.”

Her grin gained a sinister note.

“And we’ll see how the night goes after that.”

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #stone ocean #yandere jolyne #yandere jolyne x reader #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: threats #tw: toxic relationship #tw: noncon kiss #tw: slight gore #tw: ear mutilation #tw: bullying #tw: prison #tw: insults #tw: violence #minors dni

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver.

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..."

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion.

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that. “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled. "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply. "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction. “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing.

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes. “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths. Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was. “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks.

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done. “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong.

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily.

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her.

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought.

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him.

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either.

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry.

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled.

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back.

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited.

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking.

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said.

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little.

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever.

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held.

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?”

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example.

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?"

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department.

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it.

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him.

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #reader insert #paul diskant fan fiction #street kings #chris evans #chris evans characters

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

[23.20] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ he made the first move. don't you forget that.

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

"Shit (Y/N) I'm so sorry but turns out Hyerin already put me down as a group partner!" Your friend, Chaerin, said with pity in her eyes.

Sophomore year sucks. Simply because people had already found people they wanna group with so it's back to highschool cliques. Juvenile, I know.

But Chaerin was supposed to be your safe bet, the one person who'd be in the same group as you as long as you both have the same class. But since she took the afternoon class of your addiction psychology last semester due to scheduling reasons, you could sense that she might've found new friends. Which scared you.

"Chaerin, I know no one else in this class, how am I supposed to group with them? Professor Kang said 2-3 people in a group so just take me with you!" You begged, holding onto her arm to prevent her from leaving your side during group discussion.

Chaerin looked at you with so much pity in her eyes, "I'm sorry (Y/N), but Hyerin already took her boyfriend in with her and she's really great with statistics! I need to pass statistics 1 to be able to get to statistics 2, so I'm really sorry," she then proceed to detach your hand from her arm and scamper away to her groupmates.

You glared at her, feeling slightly offended that she basically said that she assumed you're stupid with statistics and that she left you so easily.

Looking around, you found people who were still only in pairs. Some of them were quite familiar, having seen them with your other classmates around campus.

But before you could suck your pride up and grovel, someone had dropped their books on the spot next to you, soon their body plopped down and you were able to see who the person is.

Park Seonghwa.

"I hope you don't mind, I heard what your friend said so I put our name together as a group, I don't know anyone else here," he said simply, looking at you with a blank facial expression.

He was in your intro to psychology class back in your first semester, having had spoken a bit during impromptu discussions and sharing knowing glances and smiles when you passed by each other.

You knew him as the popular guy who always have 7 other people around him outside of class. Good grades, flirts a lot, respectful towards professors, and a notorious player.

But even so you couldn't help but feel relieved when he said what he said.

You exhaled loudly in relief, smiling gratefully at him, "no, no, I don't mind at all! In fact, I'm rather grateful! I don't know what I'd do if you hadn't group us together first, like who'd I be able to beg to? I barely know these people, and Chaerin just had to leave me for Hyerin and her boyfriend," you said, bitterly saying the last part.

Seonghwa smirked at you and your blatant bitterness, "aren't you supposed to be all supportive of your friends? Girl power and all?" You scoffed at him, "with how she ditch me? No way, what she did was blatant abandonment, parents get put in jail for that, you know?"

He laughed genuinely at what you said. Never had he ever encountered a girl with the amount of spunk you have. The girls he spent his time with are usually those who fake innocence or feign their whole personality so he wouldn't be able to see who they are truly. But he has enough experience to know what's genuine. And you? You're as clean as they come.

"True, I agree," he calmed down a bit before shrugging at you, "still, how much do you think she'd enjoy her time being a third wheel? You should pity her and not be mad at her," he suddenly leaned his face close to you, "or, if you want, we can convince her to come to our group and be our third wheel instead," he muttered lowly.

Usually, he'd expect girls to blush and stutter when he did that. But he was surprised to see you giggle nonchalantly, "why would she third wheel us? We have nothing between us that she would be able to third wheel on," you said, shaking your head because you honestly think what he said was silly.

While you knew him as the flirt, he knew you as the girl who goes beyond her way to help people. The girl who was known around campus as the spark of joy that they could always count on.

He convinced himself that the reason why he wanted to get close to you is because he wants to test whether or not it was true, that you are as good as people perceived you are. He supress his straying thoughts of how sweet your smile is, how you seem to stop every 5 steps to say hi to someone wherever you go, and he had to muster extra strength to suppress his need to plant kisses all over your face whenever you smile. Which is often.

The class ended with Professor Kang giving the first assignment which is to familiarize yourself with both SPSS and JASP. He gave instructions on how to download the programs before dismissing the class promptly.

As you pack your things into back, simultaneously throwing a winning smirk at Chaerin whom over the past hour and a half had been looking your way with an incredulous look, not believing that Park Seonghwa sat next to you and initiate to be in the same group as you.

When you step out of the classroom, Seonghwa suddenly joined you by walking next to you.

"So, can we meet up this afternoon at the café across campus ?" He asked, tilting his head a little at you. Despite him donning his signature leather jacket and white tee with distressed jeans, he looks adorable like this.

"What for?" you asked him, tilting your head to the head slightly in confusion, "we don't really have anything to do yet, Seonghwa" you grinned at him.

Seonghwa bit his bottom lip, suppressing the urge to pull you into him. A very hard task to do.

"I-I-," he coughed a little, not believing that he just stuttered in front of you, "we could download both programs together and learn how to use them so that we'd be on the same page, you know? So neither of us would be less knowledgeable than the other,"

What he said made sense. You considered his words while nodding your head in understatement. Meeting him later in the afternoon wouldn't be cutting in any of your schedule nor would it bother you whatsoever. And you honestly like the idea of not being too dependent on one another for things.

Deciding that it was a good idea, you nodded at him, "sure! Should we exchange numbers, then? So it'll be easier to communicate things?" you offered him your phone.

Seonghwa didn't even bother to hide the smirk on his face. Never had he ever experience having to trade number for something so innocent, it's honestly making him kind of tingly.

When you both finished putting in each other's contacts in the other's phone, going as far as putting a contact photo on them for no specific reason, you both returned each other's phone.

All of a sudden, Seonghwa leaned his face close to yours, "and besides," he smiled, "I'm keen on familiarizing myself with you too," he said before he turned on his heels and walk away.

You stood there, frozen at what just happened.

Just to make you even more flustered, he looked back and threw you a wink.

"See you later, (Y/N)!" he called, making everyone look at you in jealousy, probably thinking you had scored a date with him.

Despite the shock and the unfamiliarity, you're actually excited about meeting him later even just for something as miniscule as studying.

if only you knew.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #timestamp #ateez timestamp #ateez au #smt timestamp

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 3 years

Note

Jaune Sempai AU) Weiss was a spoiled brat for a good while at the beginning, not entirely her fault but still. She got a good reality check about leadership from Port, does the same thing happen here? Or does Jaune give chip in his few cents about leadership to the new teams?

Weiss was slowly walking through the halls of Beacon, thinking about the talk she had with Professor Port just a few minutes ago. 'Savor what I have? Be the best person I can be? I'm sure I could be an even better person if I was the leader of this team... I'd learn so much more and I could help more by giving orders rather than following them! A Schnee leads, never follows! ...But...' Weiss slowly came to a stop in the middle of a hallway intersection. With it being so late, not many students were traversing the halls so she didn't need to worry about being in anyone's way. 'Was the Professor right...? About me getting everything handed to me up until now...?'

"Ah, Weiss right?" The heiress was jarred out of her pondering by a sudden voice from next to her. She turned her head to see the blond third-year she met on her first night at Beacon. Jaune Arc, was his name she believed, was standing there with a cart in front of him holding snacks, drinks, and a projector. "It's good to see you again."

Weiss stood up straight and turned to face him fully out of respect. "O-oh Jaune, it's good to see you as well."

Jaune leaned forward, and rested his forearms on the cart's handle. "I saw how you did great during initiation. It was quite impressive that the four of you were able to take out a Nevermore of that size."

Weiss felt some pride swell in her chest at the praise from such a well known upperclassman. "Well thank you, it was a rather... interesting experience teaming up like that."

"Well, you can't force teamwork. At least, not the kind the four of you showed. That stuff has to pretty much come naturally, and it did."

"Again, thank you." Weiss' eyes landed on the cart of food and drinks in front of him. "W-what might all that be for Jaune?"

"Oh this stuff? Some friends are celebrating the new semester starting today and they invited me, so I decided to grab some snacks for us all."

"Oh! Well that sounds... rather fun."

Her distracted tone wasn't lost on Jaune. The third year leaned in a bit more towards her over the cart, getting a good look at her. And her aura. "Hey... Are you doing okay? You seem a bit... down today."

Wiess was surprised by the question. "Oh! I-is it that apparent?"

"A bit." 'Well no not really. But having so many sisters and being able to see your aura dampen helps quite a lot.' "So what's up?"

Weiss wasn't sure she should complain anymore than she already had. She'd already been given a new perspective, and a small telling off, by Professor Port. Did she really want to try it again?

Well... another point a view couldn't hurt right? "Well it's just that... I was really expecting to be made team leader. Instead, Headmaster Ozpin appointed Ruby as our team's leader. A-and Professor Port already told me to let it go and just be the best huntress I can be instead, but I just don't think she's right for it!"

"And you think you'd be a better fit as the leader?"

Jaune's straight forward tone made Weiss already regret bringing it up. "W-well no... at least not anymore. Like Professor Port said, I should focus on what I have and can work with rather than what I don't." Weiss put her hands behind her and looked off to the side a bit.

"Well he is right. You weren't made team leader, not much you can do about it now. I think the Professor was right though, what you should focus on is accepting it and moving forward. Focus on improving yourself for now and working to improve your team as a member, not a leader. You and all of your teammates are on the same team. You all add to it. One person can't suddenly contribute more help or more valuable.... uuuhhh... help than the other members just because they were made the 'leader', ya know?

"Yes... I suppose that is true... But all my life I've been taught to take initiative. By my father and my sister. Neither of them were just followers, they paved their own ways."

"Your sister? You said your last name was Schnee right? Wouldn't that make your sister Winter Schnee? The Atlas Specialist?"

Weiss was caught off guard by that completely. She'd thought he'd ask about her father with her family name, not her sister. "Y-yes, she is. Do you know her?"

Jaune stood up from leaning over the cart, chuckling nervously a little bit. "Aaaaah well... I've met her in the past a few times, but I wouldn't say I really 'know' her. She's pretty strong though."

Weiss beamed happily at hearing him talk highly of her sister. "She certainly is~! I actually used to train with her occasionally and she even taught me some things she knew personally."

"Well then I'd better be careful if we were to fight haha." Jaune laughed lightly at how Weiss talked about her sister. He could almost feel Weiss's admiration for her rolling off in waves. "But you realize she needs to follow orders too right? She may be a specialist and have a high rank in the military, but she still needs to follow orders from people above her, like General Ironwood."

Weiss looked like she realized what Jaune was getting at. "I-I suppose you... aren't incorrect."

Jaune smiled and nodded a little at her understanding. "Everyone has orders and people to follow, even people with the title of 'leader'. And if not orders, then rules they need to follow. And if not rules, then some other duties or obligations. All you can really do is try and sort out which ones are the right ones for you to follow and be the best individual you can be." Jaune's warm smile dropped a bit before the next sentence. "Besides... I think you lucked out not being made the leader."

Weiss looked back over to him as she heard his voice at the last sentence lack the same tone he'd had the rest of their talk. "What do you mean by that?"

Jaune looked a bit surprised. He didn't mean to say that for her to hear. "O-oh nothing. I-it's just... I think being a leader isn't all it's cracked up to be. You have to take extra classes, work out whatever problems or kinks form in your team, be responsible for all your teammates and their actions, and honestly it won't matter a whole lot once you graduate Beacon unless you all decide to stick together and take jobs as a group. A lot more responsibility for not a lot of reward hahaha... ha ha." Jaune's awkward chuckle at the end didn't seem to ease Weiss's suspicion, so Jaune decided to finish up his point. "Just... don't think so hard on what leaders are shown or talked about as. Think about what they really are. There could still come a time where you'll need to take the lead on something. And... Ruby might appreciate your support and help."

Weiss looked really thoughtful about everything he said. Her eyes glanced down a bit in thought. "T-thank you Jaune... Both you and Port have given me quite a lot to think about..."

"Y-yeah sorry... that was a lot all at once..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. "But don't let it overwhelm you. It's your first day as a student. You have plenty of time to figure things out."

Weiss smiled softly. He was right... she'd been putting so much pressure on herself and being excellent 24/7, she forgot that she only just started. "Thank you, again. That has put my mind at ease a little."

"Glad to hear it! Now you might want to get moving. Curfew is in a little bit and trust me, you don't want Professor Goodwitch catching you out past it."

Weiss's eyes widened. She had totally forgotten how late it was! "Right! Sorry for taking up your time, but I must be going!" Weiss gave a swift nod and continued walking down the hallway she was heading towards a few minutes ago.

"No worries! I enjoyed our talk Weiss!" Jaune waved off after her until she was a good distance away, then continued on his own trip down the other one.

As the sound of the cart wheels rolling and occasionally squeaking became the only noise around him, Jaune started to let his mind drift and think about what he'd said to Weiss just a minute ago. 'Not all it's cracked up to be... yeah... what an understatement. You dodged a bullet Weiss... you just have no idea what. I hope the same bullet misses Ruby too...'

Jaune left those thoughts behind after that and just focused on making his way to Team CFVY's dorm room to meet up with everyone.

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #jaune sempai au #ask #sfw #lonesilverw0lf

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