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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋#everlurked 🌸✨

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mcheang · 4 years

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Chloe actually uses her brain

Miraculer alternate ending

“Weren’t you with Ladybug yesterday?” Lila looked confused.

“Of course Ladybug was with me yesterday! Because Sabrina got akumatized! So either you’re lying or your magic dance summons an akuma.”

Lila sweatdropped. Chloe chooses to use her brain now?

Lila put a hand on her heart and feigned shock. “I’m not lying! But maybe the magic dance was only meant for me after all. Ladybug only showed it to me.”

Chloe cocked her hip. “Ah yes. Your utterly ridiculous dance. Tell you what. If your dance really works, why don’t you show it to us all now and summon Ladybug.”

Lila flushed. “You know exactly why i perform that dance in private, Chloe!”

Chloe gave a fake yawn. “What’s the point of boasting about your connection with Ladybug when you don’t have any proof? At least people have seen Ladybug visit my roof when I use my Bee signal. But you? Ladybug has never visited you in public. And I highly doubt she thinks such a charitable person as yourself is worthy of a miraculous. You’re no Rena Rouge. You’re just a wannabe fox heroine.”

Lila’s face grew redder. “How dare you? After I tried to help you?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow. “I know you’re from Greece (if Chloe can confuse Asian cultures, why not Greek and Roman?), but your French can’t be that bad. You didn’t help me. You sabotaged me. And rest assured, I intend to return the favour. Sabrina told me your Mother works for the Italian embassy, doesn’t she? I think I’ll ask Dad to invite them all for a nice dinner and she can tell the whole tale about how Ladybug saved you.”

Lila panicked. Her Mother cannot get involved, everything will be ruined if she does. Quickly composing her face, Lila shrugged it off. “If you please. But she’ll just confirm whatever I’ve been saying.”

Chloe smirked. “We’ll see.”

And she walked off, unwilling to let the liar get the last word. Sabrina followed, not giving Lila another glance.

Lila stewed. She had to change Chloe’s mind. But how?

Sabrina!

Later in the morning, once Chloe had gone to the bathroom during a class break, Lila approached Sabrina. “Hey, Sabrina.”

Sabrina jumped, looking nervous to see Lila close by. Chloe would not like to see her BFF talking to the girl who humiliated her.

Lila saw this and was just as eager to make this quick before Chloe returned. Feigning a carefree attitude, Lila asked what Sabrina was doing that afternoon.

Sabrina frowned. “I’ll be helping Chloe prepare the dinner arrangements. After that, I’ll help Chloe prepare for the dinner.”

Lila gasped. “You mean you don’t even get to attend?”

Sabrina shook her head.

Lila put on an apologetic face. “I’m so sorry, Sabrina. I didn’t mean to ruin your afternoon with my advice. I wish there was something I could do.”

Sabrina gave Lila a look. “Well, you could actually perform the dance in public, say during lunch time? If Ladybug shows up just for you and Chloe sees it, she’ll have to admit you’re telling the truth.”

Lila just smiled at Sabrina, promising nothing.

For the rest of the morning, Lila was frantically trying to attract an akuma. Her own alarm and panic was not enough.

Lila told Rose a lie that Prince Ali has a fiancée and she was one of the first to know. Rose was disappointed but not surprised. She knew she hardly had a chance with Prince Ali romantically. They hardly saw each other. Juleka was happy to cheer Rose up.

Lila asked Mylene how her tree planting event had gone. Lila sympathizes that Ivan lied to Mylene rather than trusted her with the truth. Did he think Mylene wouldn’t understand? Mylene admits she had been upset with her Boyfriend but they had already hashed it out.

Lila can’t put her frame/accuse-Marinette plan into action yet. There isn’t a test at the moment.

Lila tries to rub it in Max’s face that he got beaten by Marinette. But Alix jumps into their conversation and admits it’s nice to have another female winner in an event stereotyped for males. Max doesn’t dare argue in the face of that statement.

And Lunch has arrived. Coincidentally, an akuma appeared on the other side of the city. Sabrina gave Lila another look, silently promising that one way or another Chloe will avenge herself.

(Now, in case you’re wondering, Lila wanted the akuma for herself, to become Volpina and cast an illusion of Ladybug again. But too late)

Lila tries to get her Mother to stay at home by feigning to be grievously ill enough to be sent to the hospital.

The Doctors will immediately point out Lila has no broken bones, but Lila forces herself to vomit in class and claims this was a regular occurrence ever since she decided to go on a diet. She had even suffered hair loss.

“Is that the excuse for your hair-don’t?” mocked Chloe.

Lila’s Mother does make an appearance at the hospital but the Doctors are baffled because Lila looks perfectly healthy.

Lila’s excuse: makeup

In any case, the blood work needs some time to be finished. The doctor’s advice was to just let Lila try to eat dinner and sleep early. (I’m just basing off what I read in Kitchen Princess volume 2)

Sadly, Lila’s Mother won’t stay even if her Daughter is suspected to have an eating disorder. She asked their neighbour to look after Lila while she attends a mandatory dinner.

Lila wants to scream. If her plan had failed, she would have tried something else to sabotage the dinner (set off the fire alarm) but she can’t leave under the neighbour’s watchful eye.

So while Chloe asked Mrs Rossi her opinion of Ladybug, Lila did have one bit of good news.

The doctor had suggested feeding Lila what she liked to eat. Knowing she will be grounded very soon, Lila indulges herself on lasagne and rich chocolate cake.

She goes to sleep and pretends to continue so when her Mother slams the door open.

After dismissing the neighbour and thanking her, Mrs Rossi checks on Lila to see if she was indeed asleep before deciding their confrontation could wait till morning.

That dinner was the most humiliating event Mrs Rossi could remember. Not only was she the only one to believe Ladybug was incompetent; but the Parisians had been insulted that she had badmouthed their heroine. Their offended faces turned to incredulity when they heard her faulty evidence from her own Daughter. Then that Chloe girl told her that her own Daughter was said to have been saved by Ladybug and that they were BFFs. After that there came the theory that Lila was playing truant since the school hadn’t shut down, as Chloe could very well attest to.

The next morning, Lila tries to delay the inevitable by feigning exhaustion. Her Mother strangely lets it go as she announces she is off to work.

Lila tries to suppress the hope that maybe something went wrong with Chloe’s plan, like she couldn’t attend because she had another appointment.

The reason behind Mrs Rossi’s departure is because she wants all the facts before she confronts her daughter. She had called an emergency meeting with the principal and Ms Bustier. Imagine her shock and sadness to learn her daughter changed her parental contact information and her excuse for truancy. Mrs Rossi clears up the matter for the faculty and all agree Lila will be in massive trouble. Detention sounds like a lenient punishment for forging signatures and email fraud. But Lila’s truancy means she will have to stay back a year. She won’t graduate with the class.

Meanwhile, at class, Chloe boasts about Lila’s true nature with video evidence. Let’s just say the class are upset to learn that their friend had called Ladybug useless. Alya is shocked and Lila’s phone is exploding with texts demanding explanations and pleading for it not to be true.

Lila reads it all but doesn’t answer. Her whole world is crumbling before her eyes. Why hasn’t an akuma come for her then?

The akuma wasn’t attracted by Lila’s dull acceptance and rage, her emotions weren’t as strong when she knew this was coming.

No, the akuma was attracted towards sweet, innocent Rose, most sensitive of the girls. Because Lila’s betrayal really stung her.

Alya apologized to Marinette for not believing her. It makes the whole class realize Lila had been taking advantage of them, and makes them recall their discussions with her yesterday. Had Lila been intentionally trying to upset them?

Going further back, they analyse everything Lila had told them. Promises she had not yet fulfilled. Her implication that Ladybug doesn’t care about the earth. Yeah, the class idolizes Ladybug and while they didn’t really believe Ladybug was apathetic about the earth’s issues, they had dismissed it back then. Now, they are furious, especially since a lot of them have become heroes.

In all the chaos, Rose becomes akumatizes into Princess Fragrance. She will hold Lila on trial, and then decide her punishment. Luckily, Adrien and Marinette led the charge out of the class once they saw Rose transform.

Rose is stopped before she reaches Lila but her akumatization and reason for it make the news.

Before the day is over, when Mrs Rossi returns to work, she is told she has been called back to Italy because she had been sacked/demoted for her incompetence, ignorance and for humiliating the Italian embassy.

As Mrs Rossi packs her things (one of them a tiny plant), her despair, shame and rage against her Daughter summons a second akuma. She turns into Mother Nature.

If Lila was the bad seed, Mrs Rossi was the one who watered the tree. Mother Nature’s powers allow her to prove she can raise beautiful things.

She is defeated.

Mrs Rossi accepts her punishment and prepares to move back to Italy.

Lila is still staying in Paris. Her Father had been in another city but is also still a diplomat stationed in France. He will take over his wife’s station. Mrs Rossi can’t look after Lila and find a new job at the same time.

In addition to her school punishments, Lila will be getting a nanny, no allowance, grounded. Mrs Rossi knows Lila will face worse punishments once she returns to school tomorrow since the doctor confirmed Lila was fine. (Medical fees paid over nothing irked Mrs Rossi further)

At school, Lila is left to sit alone. Nathaniel decided to sit next to Ivan since he needs some closure.

Thanks to Marinette insisting the class not get worked up over Lila, the class ignores her but Lila notices she is glared at on her way to her desk.

Marinette and Alya throw a party for Chloe, under the excuse that it is to celebrate her time as Queen Bee now that she is retired. Alya had wanted to honor Marinette too but Marinette declines because she doesn’t need to be the center of attention.

Chloe was annoyed by the reminder that she can no longer be a hero but basks in everyone’s thanks for exposing that liar.

Adrien can’t argue because he has just learnt how much Lila had intentionally tried to hurt their class, and Chloe needs to be cheered up after Miraculer. Like after Oniichan, Adrien avoids Lila when she tries to hurt the people he loves. (Seriously the boy needs to stand up for the love of his life. Lila has badmouthed Ladybug in front of Adrien several times, and he has not defended her. Even after Oniichan, he still greets Lila cordially in Miraculer! Argh! 😠 also...why leave Ladybug alone with Lila when she was clearly fine?!)

Lila can’t even summon an akuma when her round-the-clock Nanny stays outside the classroom door and is there to walk her home for lunch. It’s a shame, because she really could have used an akuma after seeing the party. But her nanny was instructed to keep akumas away since Lila had been akumatized at least twice.

With the class ignoring her, Lila has no chance to make new ‘friends’ or get her old ones back. Not when she has to return home immediately for lunch or when school ends. Even during group projects, Lila has to communicate from home.

The class makes their hatred of Lila known in gym.

Oh, and now that Lila had been publicly announced a liar, Gabriel has no use for her. He doesn’t reach out to her anymore and Lila knows she has been fired.

Lila’s stay in Paris is assuredly miserable. And to think she had done all this because she wanted Adrien all to herself and tried to humiliate the competition.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #lila salt #miraculer fic #ml salt fic #miraculer alternate ending #lila karma #lila bashing #lila is exposed #lila gets exposed

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joaquinwhorres · 4 years

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The Fool (Ch. 3) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,500-ish

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› This chapter This chapter kicked my butt. But the fact that it's written and posted and I did not disappear for a year (which has been known to happen when I can't seem to get a chapter right) is a victory.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net

Word of the Thom Spiro Incident--what Wren had finally agreed to call the small display of justice at lunch--spread quickly throughout the castle. While this was somewhat worrisome, it was not an entirely unexpected consequence. Besides, for the most part, the student body seemed focused on the fact that Thom had rather abruptly turned completely violet and not so much on the hows, whos, and whys of the situation.

Although Wren was fairly certain that it was only a matter of time before those questions would ripple through the castle, she was proved wrong on her way to Divination. As she was passing by a gaggle of third year girls, she overheard their whispers: apparently, during the fourth to fifth block class change, Professor Snape had been seen arguing with Professor Sprout about her standards for admission to her NEWT level class. This news quickly passed from student to student, bringing new life to the buzz surrounding the Incident and easing Wren's anxiety a bit.

While a purple student and quarreling professors would be enough to keep the student body talking for at least a week, right before dinner the drama came to a head when loud shouts were heard coming from the Hospital Wing. According to Lee, three girls had been dragged out by Hagrid and Madam Hooch, kicking and screaming at each other. From what he could gather, each of them had been to visit Thom only to discover he was dating all three of them.

This of course had inspired Fred Weasley to give a small toast in Wren's honor, despite her protests that he "Sit down!" and "Shh!". Afterwards, the Twilight Protectorate--the name Alicia saw fit to bestow upon them--spent the rest of dinner sharing the various speculations they'd heard throughout the day about "the purple Ravenclaw."

But much in the same way the purple slowly faded from Thom's skin, so did the excitement surrounding the incident. Life moved on. Thom's Herbology station was moved closer to Professor Sprout, the Weasley twins stopped making a show of watching Wren's every move, and normal life at Hogwarts resumed.

For the most part.

There seemed to be a lingering closeness between Wren and her dorm mates. Alicia had taken to insisting that Wren come to the library with her and Angelina and Katie or join their game of Exploding Snap or come and lay out on the lawn with them.

This was exactly where the girls found themselves stretched out now, Angelina halfheartedly working on her muggle studies homework, the rest having long given up on their own parchments and books scattered between them.

“Reckon we don’t have too many days left like this,” Katie mused, tucking her arms under her head as she lifted her face to the sun.

“I’m surprised we even got this one,” Angelina remarked, scratching out an answer and rewriting a new one.

It was unusually pleasant even for early October. The girls' jumpers were plenty to keep them warm against the cool breeze that swept across the lawn every now and then, rustling their parchments and flipping pages in their books.

"It'd be nice if it stayed like this for your birthday," Katie said. "We could do something on the lawn then."

Angelina shook her head as she continued to scan through the book in front of her for a bit of information. "We don't need to do anything for my birthday."

"You're turning 17," Alicia pushed, as if the fact that Angelina would finally be of age was lost on her. "You'll officially be able to do magic whenever you want."

"And drink whatever you want," Wren put in, lifting her head up from her folded arms and propping her chin up in her hand.

"I want to see Angelina do shots of Firewhiskey," Katie smiled, turning onto her stomach to stare at Angelina. Angelina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes.

"Not going to happen," she said, with a firm shake of her head, quill scratching lightly against the parchment. "The only thing that's really going to be any different over the next eight months is that I can enter the Tournament."

Alicia gasped excitedly, jerking up into a seated position. "You're going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Wren jumped as there was a flurry of robes next to her and Lee Jordan settled himself next to her, stretching out his feet and leaning back on his arms.

"Angelina's going to enter the Tournament!" Alicia responded as Fred and George dropped themselves into the spaces between Katie and Alicia, and Wren and Angelina.

"Excellent," Fred said, nudging books out of the way with his foot. "We'll be putting our names in as well."

"But your birthdays aren't until April," Katie's brow furrowed as she stacked the book Fred moved on top of another one.

"That's right," George nodded.

"You have to be 17 to enter," Katie pressed.

A smile quirked at the corner of Fred's lips. "And when has something as trivial as a rule ever stopped us?"

Alicia snorted, and Angelina heaved a sigh, closing her book and rolling up her parchment.

"The way we see it, all we have to do is fool the judge. And if he--"

"It," Wren corrected, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. The eyes of the group fell on her as Fred's sentence was abandoned.

"It?" George repeated.

Wren looked up, glancing around the circle. "Well, the judge can't be a person."

"Do go on," Fred extended a hand as if to prompt her. Angelina smacked at his shoulder and he withdrew his hand, scowling at her.

Wren flushed, and shook her head, but George nudged her with his shoulder. "C'mon, all theories are worth hearing."

"Well, it can't possibly be a professor from any of the three schools; they're not impartial. And it's unlikely it'll be a Ministry person either since a victory for Hogwarts is a victory for Britain. And I doubt they'd get some international ministry member to come in and decide. For one, they're much too busy, and for two, they'd be easily swayed by international politics. Which means that it's probably some sort of object like the sorting hat, or maybe a creature."

There was a brief silence after her observation followed by a small "Huh." out of Fred.

"That does make what Dumbledore said about personally ensuring no underage student hoodwinks the judge," Alicia nodded. "It's unlikely a judge able to determine the best the school has to offer would be easily tricked."

Fred looked thoughtfully over Wren's shoulder, his eyes distant and brow furrowed slightly. Beside her George was also stiller than normal, only drumming his thumb lightly against his leg.

"Reckon you'll put your name in, if we figure out a way around the judge?" Lee asked Alicia who shook her head.

"I'm happy being a spectator for once," she said, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I just hope one of you gets it. It'll be nice to have a Gryffindor champion to cheer for."

"Trust me," Fred said, his eyes landing on Wren. "There'll be a Gryffindor champion."

Wren sank into a spot at the Gryffindor table with just twenty minutes to spare before she had to head off to Charms. It was not the first time she'd woken up with a start followed immediately by a sinking sensation at the sight of her empty dorm. It wasn't even the first time this year. She'd cut it even closer just two weeks back. Still, any morning that entailed sprinting down seven staircases all while praying that Peeves didn't notice her never instilled a feeling of victory or relief or even gratitude when she turned into the Great Hall and there was still food on the tables.

All that to say, she was not in the best of moods when the Weasley twins sat themselves across the breakfast table from her with identical mischievous smiles on their faces.

"How would you like to make magical history?" Fred asked.

Wren blinked twice, her heart still racing from her run, as she stared between the two of them. "Morning to you as well. I'm fine enough, thank you for asking. And no, I wasn't about to use that jam, please help yourself," she said bitterly, gesturing to where George was topping a bit of toast with raspberry jam that Wren had just been about to use before it slipped from under her fingers.

"Excellent, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, what do you say?" Fred gestured for her to answer. Wren continued to glare at George until he handed the jar back over to her so she could continue fixing her breakfast.

"What do you mean magical history?" she asked. Despite the fact that her attention was on her plate, she could practically feel the grins grow on the twins faces. It was rather annoying.

"Knew she'd be curious," Fred shot to George.

"Never doubted it," George shot back.

Wren placed the knife down, shaking her head. "I take it back. If I know you two, this isn't going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

"Look at this, Fred, she's got us all figured out."

"Well, George, we have had three conversations together. I'd say that's enough to infer motives."

Wren ignored the bickering and leveled them with a look. "I know you two well enough to know that you're Fred," she said pointing to the twin claiming to be George, "And you're George."

Their eyes brightened with delight. "Well spotted, Collings," Fred complimented. "What gave us away?'

Before Wren had a chance to make up some sort of answer--there was no way she was going to give away the tricks Angelina had taught her--George cut in. "You're forgetting, Fred, that Wren and I are close personal friends," he remarked with a significant look, punctuating the statement with a bite of his toast.

Wren's eyes widened and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. "We don't need to speak about that. Ever."

Fred laughed. "That bad was it?"

"Hang on now, you hardly gave me any warning," George argued, defensively.

Wren glowered at them some more and resolved herself to never be late to breakfast ever again. "Get back to your original point or I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed, squaring his shoulders to face her. "How would you like to be the first witch to brew a potion that stumps Albus Dumbledore?"

"Be serious then," Wren shook her head, expecting the twins to come clean about asking for help with a prank or some other sort of mischief. But instead, they simply peered intently at her with expectant looks on their faces. "You're joking. No. "

"You're in NEWT level potions," George said.

"As a Gryffindor no less," Fred added.

"Angelina says you have top marks too." George casually bit into his toast again.

Wren's stomach let out a grumble and she paused the conversation long enough to take a bite of her scone. She chewed it slowly, eyeing the twins as if expecting them to break and admit they were teasing her. Instead they looked at her with eyebrows raised and hands folded in front of them as if at a business meeting. She swallowed, shaking her head. "That just means I'm good at paying attention and following instructions."

George gave a meaningful look to Fred. "Modest, this one."

"Incredibly," Fred nodded back at his brother. Wren huffed and returned to her breakfast, multitasking by giving the two a rude hand gesture.

They didn't seem to get the point.

"It's admirable, really."

"A shining example to all of wizardkind."

"Stop it, you two," Wren snapped.

Fred shook his head, reaching over to Wren's plate and stealing a piece of bacon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good platter of it sitting slightly to his right.

"You've got a gift Wren Collings," George appealed. "This could be your time to show it off."

"Not only that, but you're clever and more devious than you appear," Fred said, waving the bacon at her. "Far more devious than a prefect's girlfriend should be."

Wren shot him a dirty look, but before she could properly chew him out, George jumped in. "We need your help."

She looked down at her plate and picked up the remaining piece of bacon before either of the twins could reach for it. "What potion do you want me to brew?"

This mischievous grins were back on their faces, and this truly was a horrible idea.

"Just a simple ageing potion." Fred shrugged.

"Oh yes, very simple; all I have to do is brew a potion that instantaneously ages every cell in your body the exact same amount."

"That about explains it," George nodded, and Wren shook her head.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you need an ageing potion?"

"Thought it'd be obvious," Fred said, reaching over to her plate to grab a scone, and she slapped his hand away. "It's for the Tournament of course. Just in case there's some sort of measure to make sure we're 17."

Wren laughed again, this one slightly more disbelieving than full on incredulous. "There's no way I'll be able to make a potion good enough to get you into the Tournament--get your own bloody scone, Fred." Wren snapped, batting away his hand once more. He raised his eyebrows but finally started to pick at the surrounding serving plates rather than take from hers.

"Don't be so self-defeating Wren," George broke in. "You brewed one well enough on the NEWTs to get an O. Besides, we're not asking you to get us picked--just to help us submit our names."

Wren shook her head. "Do you have a plan for gathering the ingredients? Or figuring out how to haul a cauldron to some unseen location so I can brew a potion without anyone in Hogwarts noticing?"

Fred paused from preparing his own scone to look at Wren disbelievingly. "It's like you don't even know us at all."

"And here we were thinking that you got us."

Wren rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore that small question that had wriggled its way out of the back of her mind: could she create a potion that stumped Dumbledore's magic? No, the thought was absolutely ludicrous. He'd been practising magic for 100 years more than her. But could she create a potion that slid through a crack in Dumbledore's thinking? She didn't need to overcome his magic; she just needed to outwit it. And who was better at outwitting brilliant thinkers than the two boys sitting in front of her.

"I'll consider it," Wren said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The energy buzzing around the two boys was almost electric. "They're going to read about you in History of Magic," George declared.

"Or at least fall asleep on your page."

Wren broke off a bit of her scone and tossed it at Fred who allowed it to bounce off of him before popping it into his mouth.

"Might want to pack up the rest," George said, gesturing at Wren's plate. "Breakfast is over in--" The serving dishes around them vanished, and Wren just managed to grab a half of her scone before her plate and its contents disappeared as well.

She really had to wake up earlier in the morning.

"Here," George said, offering a piece of toast he had snatched up. Wren didn't even bother to fake a protest at the kindness, and instead took it from him with a small thanks. After all, he was part of the reason she hadn't been able to eat her full breakfast. A small part, but a part.

Wren rose from the table, the twins getting up as well and moving to her side. "Shouldn't take much to get the ingredients. Quick OWL to the Apothecary should get us what we need." Fred thought aloud.

"Might have to go closer to home than that," George said with a meaningful look to Fred. Fred nodded, thinking about it before his eyes turned to Wren.

"I suppose we do know someone taking NEWT level potions who does have access to--"

"No," Wren said, clearly. "I'm not stealing from Snape."

"We wouldn't call it stealing," George protested.

"It's simply a reallocation of supplies," Fred shrugged. "Still for an education."

"A hands on, useful education."

Wren rolled her eyes and continued on. "You're in charge of the cauldron and ingredients. If I agree to do anything it's just to make the potion."

"Oh, you'll agree," Fred said, trailing behind her slightly with George.

"You're sure, are you?" Wren asked, turning around in the hall.

Fred's eyes sparkled. "Dead certain."

Wren rolled her eyes and spun back around, polishing off the remainder of her scone and brushing her hand against her side. Behind her the boys continued their conversation about ingredients and she worked her way to the Charms classroom.

"Hey Collings, my mate thinks you're tidy!" a voice shouted out to her, and she stopped, spinning around to see Simon strolling up with Hector and Edmund. Simon rolled his eyes as Hector laughed, and Wren smiled, allowing him to catch up to her. Fred and George also stopped, and she could feel both pairs of eyes on her.

"Good morning, love," Simon said, coming up to her and letting Hector and Edmund pass by snickering and casting a glance back at Simon.

"It's morning, not sure how good it is though," Wren pouted, falling into step with him.

Simon smiled. "You shouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you," he said, rubbing the crease in her brow with his finger. "Besides, isn't it a good morning when you get a rare sighting of your boyfriend?"

"A fair point," Wren agreed, allowing herself a smile as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Is that toast?" he asked, looking down at her hand, and Wren nodded. Simon reached over plucking it from her grip and taking a bite. "You mind? I'm still famished."

"Go ahead," Wren nodded.

"Where are you off to then?" Simon asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Charms."

The word didn't come from Wren. Instead, Fred appeared suddenly by her side, George next to him. Wren could see the subtle shift in Simon's face. The confusion and small question there as he looked down at her. "Is that so?"

Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip over a beat. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Fred asked, putting a hand over his own heart. "I'm wounded Wren, I thought we were friends."

Wren snorted and shook her head.

"You're friends?" Simon asked, looking down at her again before casting a glance and Fred and George. "That's news to me."

"Keep a catalogue of her friends do you?" Fred asked. Wren turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. His words seemed sharper than his usual teases. Her heart beat a bit quicker.

"Smart. Must come in handy when this one goes on about her day," George nodded. "Or at parties, I'd imagine."

Wren laughed, the sound higher than normal. She cleared her throat and reached up, threading her fingers through Simon's so that both hands rested on her shoulder. "Our campsites were next to each other at the World Cup and we got on," she explained, looking up at Simon as he absently bit from the toast, eyes still on the twins. "Now they bother me whenever they have the chance."

"You know us. Botherers." George said, and Simon shook his head at it all. He might have said something else if the Hallway didn't split, one leading to the greenhouses, and the other off to Charms.

"Well, so long as they don't bother you too much," he said, pulling Wren in closer to him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his lips pressing against hers so forcefully, she felt the blood and heat rush to her face as she attempted to pull the kiss back into a normal hallway peck. She was rather unsuccessful and stayed locked in his embrace until eventually he let go, and with a nod of goodbye at Fred and George, turned off down the hall.

"Change your mind about how good the morning is Collings?" George nodded appraisingly, as a slightly stunned Wren turned back towards them.

"Oh, shove it," Wren snapped lightly before following them off to class and enduring more teasing than she possibly should have to for it being before nine in the morning.

She intended to tell them no.

It wasn't as if she had any moral qualms with breaking the rules, but it seemed to be a lot of wasted time and energy and for what--so they could attempt to enter a tournament they weren't even prepared for? There was no guarantee they'd even be picked. And what if it came back on her and she got in trouble for breaking the rules.

No. She'd have to tell them no.

Even though Simon was right and the school year had smoothed out some in terms of workload, she was too busy to willingly waste her time on a pipe dream.

But the spare bits of time that were already wasted once she was finished taking notes in class and waiting for everyone else to catch up? That wasn't too much time to devote to the idea.

Wren bent over her parchment, scanning over her list of prospective ingredients. There was the set list needed, and then several others she'd included on a whim: dandelion root, tadpole legs, a little more fluxweed. She considered the list for a second before scrawling at the bottom: boomslang skin?

"What are you working on?" Cedric whispered, lowly. Wren's head snapped towards him, an arm reflexively coming around her parchment as if to shield it from view.

He let out an amused exhale and raised his eyebrows as if to say Really? "An illicit project then?"

"No," Wren returned defensively. She paused, taking a moment to fully consider it. "Maybe."

Cedric smiled, and she lifted up her pitiful shield arm, putting her head in her hand instead to shield his face from view as she slid the parchment over to him.

"An ageing potion?" Cedric asked, a tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. "What's so--" he seemed to catch on then. "For the Tournament?"

Wren nodded and dropped her hand. "It's not for me, though."

"Of course not," he dismissed, eyes returning to the list of ingredients with her additions and ideas about ways to modify the brewing process.

"It's not," Wren protested a bit too loudly, casting her glance around and finding Snape staring at her. She picked up her quill and bent her head down, pretending to be copying more notes.

"I don't blame you for wanting to enter, I'm planning on it," Cedric noted, dropping his own voice lower as well. "What's with all of the extra ingredients?"

Wren chanced another look up at Snape, whose head was bent over a stack of parchments on his desk. She looked over Cedric's shoulder at her notes. "If I want to make a potion that gets around Dumbledore's precautions, it can't be a simple ageing potion. It needs to address any potential...failsafes."

Cedric turned to look at her. "You're a bit of a genius, aren't you?"

Wren flushed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to make it yet."

"I don't see why not," Cedric said, pushing the parchment back over to Wren. "If you're able to make this, you'd deserve more of a shot at being Champion than me. I'm just putting my name in. I do have a question though," he said, and Wren nodded, looking down at her scribblings.

"Have you considered adding lovage?"

She shook her head.

"If you crushed it right, the effects would be harmless to the drinker, but it would sweat through…"

"And create an air of confusion around them," Wren finished, eyes widening. The aura might make it more likely for the seller to miss the fact that the twins were aged up. "That's brilliant," she complimented, adding the ingredient to her list.

"Happy to have helped," Cedric nodded at her, his eyes catching on something up front before bending over his work. "Snape's coming," he hissed.

Wren shuffled the notes between other bits of parchment under her books, pulling out her finished Potions notes and feeling a little less than certain in her impending refusal of the twins' request.

No good deed went unpunished.

That was the only possible explanation for Fred Weasley to be dropping his books next to hers right now. She was being punished for turning Thom Spiro purple. Despite the fact it was two weeks later. It seemed that karma took time.

"Don't look so excited," Fred chastised. "I've recently learned that Herbology is serious business, so I can't be helping you with your mischief."

Wren glowered, and in return, he winked at her.

“This is part of your plan isn’t it?” Wren asked, narrowing her eyes at Fred. “All that on Tuesday was so you’d get reassigned to be my partner?”

She was referencing, of course, the awful prank he had played on Anthony Hooper. Throughout the entire class Fred had continuously baited the Poulpeplant into wrapping one of its vines around Anthony’s foot so that any time he moved, it yanked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

It hadn't been until the end of class that Anthony caught Fred dropping bits of bait into his pants' cuff.

The class had had a laugh and ended before Professor Sprout had been able to fully lecture Fred about the dangers of messing around in Herbology.

She still had plenty of time to take away 25 points from Gryffindor, though.

“Now why would I want to be your partner? You poisoned your last one.”

“I did not!” Wren hissed. “He wasn’t my partner, and it was a light poisoning at most.” She paused, pieces clicking together. "You're here to get me to help you steal ingredients. Aren't you?"

"First off, I believe I already clarified that we aren't stealing--we're reallocating. And second, you made it very clear that obtaining ingredients wasn't part of the deal."

"It's not."

"Could be though."

"But it's not."

"You have been known to be light-fingered."

Wren glared and Fred smiled. “We have another plan for the ingredients. Getting reassigned to be your partner is but a happy accident.”

She did not believe him. "I'm not helping you get ingredients. I haven't even decided if I'll help you," Wren said.

Fred gave her a very disbelieving look and then reached over, and tugged her copy of Advanced Potions Making from her stack of books. Wren let out a noise of protest, but before she could further yell at him, he cut her off. "You don't have Potions today."

Wren reached over to grab the book back as her clear objection was ignored. "You know my schedule?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the planning," he dismissed, pulling it out of her grasp and holding it up. "Which begs the question why are you carrying this around?"

It was then that he seemed to catch sight of the parchment sticking out and slipped it out from the book.

Wren reached forward only to have Fred shove the book back in her hands. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like the makings of an age potion."

There was no point in arguing that it was for Potions. Fred was frustrating, grandstanding, and overeager, but sadly, he was not stupid.

"I wanted to see if it could even be done before I agreed to it."

"You were curious," Fred grinned, looking rather like the niffler that caught the galleon.

"I was being practical," Wren defended.

Fred shook his head. "You already knew you could make an age potion. You wanted to see if you could make the best age potion." Fred bent over the parchment. "So what's with these ingredients?"

Wren summoned the parchment back to her and it flew through Fred's fingers, rolling itself up so she could tuck it in her bag. "I was brainstorming different ways to make the potion foolproof. Or fool sure. Adding an aura of conversion, binding it more strongly with your DNA, making the effects more permanent--"

"More permanent?" Fred asked. "Eager as I am to enter the Tournament, it's not worth losing six months of life over."

"Not permanent permanent," she corrected. "Just until your birthday."

Fred seemed less uneasy and more curious now. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore knows we all brewed aging potions for the NEWTS."

"Honestly, I'm flattered by how intelligent you think I am, but I'm going to need you to explain more," Fred prompted.

Wren opened her mouth to explain right as Professor Sprout called the class to order. Wren shut her mouth turning to the front, listening as the professor began to explain their fertilization experiment for the day. Beside her, she could still feel Fred's eyes intensely on her, and she knew he wouldn't drop the conversation.

"What if whatever Dumbledore does to protect the judge can sense if your age changes faster than it naturally should? If the age potion were to wear off on your birthday, the change of age would seem natural. Right?" Wren whispered.

"You're a bloody genius," Fred murmured back, and Wren shook her head, her cheeks heating up. "A natural inventor."

"I'm not inventing anything. Just using theory to adapt a potion that should otherwise already work," Wren argued lightly.

"In the history books, Wren. You're gonna be in history books."

Wren shook her head and decided to give Professor Sprout her full attention.

...

Despite what Wren might have supposed, Fred had quite a knack for Herbology. Between the two of them, had managed to distract and add new fertilizer to three of the five Poulpeplants in the time it took most students in the class to get just one. Wren changed it up to Fred being both extremely distracting by nature and surprisingly nimble. Although frankly that shouldn't have been much of a surprise what with all of the pranks he pulled around the castle. Still, Wren couldn't help but admire his focus and skill.

"We make a natural team," Fred said with a grin, nudging Wren's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips turned up.

"We're just both good at Herbology," Wren dismissed.

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Oh come on, Wren. You want to help us. I can see it in you. You've practically done half of the work already."

Wren shook her head, taking up the defensive stance in front of the plant. Fred stood behind the plant, his eyes fixated on her as if he were proficient at Occlumency. Maybe it was the fear that he was that drove her to finally say, "Oh, alright, then."

A bright look of triumph flashed across Fred's face as he beamed. "Excellent. We'll negotiate the details later, but right now, you might want to hold your nose."

Wren's brow furrowed. "What?"

And then she smelled it. A putrid smell clawed up Wren's throat, choking her and turning her stomach. Quickly she backed away from the plant, flinging an arm over her nose as Fred's hand shot up. "Professor! Is the fertilizer supposed to smell like this?" his voice came out nasally due to his nose being pinched between his two fingers. Professor Sprout hurried towards them as Fred cast Wren a wink.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked under the table. A dung bomb.

"Everyone out of the greenhouse," Professor Sprout ordered, as the students made for the door, coughing and gagging. It took all of four minutes for the class to fully escape into the fresh air, fanning out on the lawn. Wren pulled in lungful after lungful of the crisp air, but the memory of the smell seemed set on her clothes.

Beside her, Fred was receiving an excellent telling off from Professor Sprout, ending with him earning himself a detention fertilizing all of the greenhouses for a week. He looked appropriately remorseful throughout the ordeal, but as Professor Sprout turned and headed towards the greenhouse to clear it out, he cast a look out of the corner of his eye to Wren.

He was a genius. A mad genius. But a genius all the same.

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ikenbar · 3 years

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Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice CH4 PT2

Warnings: tips for the swear jar, fluff, and angst. like a lot of it. from almost all the boys. Lucien’s out. Sorry Lucy stans. also cliffhangers. not as epic as the Chapter three but cliffhangers nonetheless

(Chapter Four (Victor and Gavin) Prologue, and part one, and part three coming soon!)

Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D

Chapter four:

Part two:

“Hello?” Kiro’s agent, Savin, answered in a business-like tone.

“Hey Savin. It’s… uh… Super Stranger.” I cringed, avoiding eye contact with the curious Adri.

“Say no more.” Savin’s smile shone through the phone. Music played as he put the call on hold. Savin held on to Kiro’s phone when he was filming. I prayed I wasn’t interrupting anything, but I also couldn’t wait to hear Kiro’s voice again.

After a few long and agonizing seconds, the call was picked up again.

“Hello?” Kiro’s voice sounded both panicked and expectant. I kept Adri in my peripherals as took a deep breath.

“Hey Kiro. It’s me.”

Adri’s head snapped to attention.

“Super Stranger!?” Kiro exclaimed happily over the phone, “Oh thank goodness you’re alright! Are you ok? You weren’t hurt were you?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” I reassured, “Just... a slight cough. From the smoke.” Kiro sighed deeply.

“I’m so glad.” His voice was devoid of the obvious tenseness that it had before. I cringed and tapped my leg nervously.

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t be. I’m just relieved to hear you’re doing alright.” Kiro sounded earnest. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. “Where are you? Let me come visit you!” Kiro giddly added. My heart jumped. The tension was back.

“A-aren’t you in the middle of a shoot? Wouldn’t Savin get mad that you’re leaving?”

“I’m sure Savin would understand if I cut a little early to visit you! Especially if I use my patented Kiro puppy dog eyes!”

“I would hate for you to get into trouble because of me.” I cringed slightly. I had raised my voice and the burning in my throat returned. I cleared my throat softly and continued, “Besides, I need to keep my secret identity, right?”

“I think there is an exception when it comes to explosions.” Kiro laughed but I could tell it was forced, “...Stranger, I want to make sure you’re ok. Can I please come see you?” My stomach turned. Who could say no to that man?

...

I could.

“You will see me. In two weeks.” I said in my usual tactless tone. “As much as I want you here, it’s just not safe. People will find you and end up causing a riot at the hospital. We could be putting the lives of the patients here at risk. I’m sorry, Kiro, but my answer is no.” After a moment of silence Kiro sighed again.

“There you go again. Thinking of others’ well being before your own.” Kiro sounded as if he were smiling but his tone made it obvious that he was disappointed in my response, “Alright. I’ll stay. But you need to promise me you will call me everyday you’re in the hospital. And then everyday after that!!” I sighed, relaxing my shoulders once again.

“Ok. You have my word.”

“Good! Then I will be a faithful sidekick and answer!” There was some distant noise on Kiro’s end of the phone, “My break’s over so I’ll have to talk to you later. Make sure you call me, ok?”

“Alright. Talk to you soon.”

“Drink lots of fluids and stay down, ok?”

“I will!” I rolled my eyes. Those words were getting old, “Goodbye, Kiro.”

“Bye, Super Stranger!”

I put the phone back onto the keypad and cleared my throat. I needed some water...

After a moment of stalling, I finally looked over to Adri. Her eyes were huge and her mouth hung open. “Close your mouth please, Adri, we are not a codfish.” I casually returned my voice to whisper as I plucked the cup from her hands and took a drink.

“YOU KNOW KIRO?!” Adri shouted. I winced.

“Not so loud!” I hissed, covering her mouth and looking at the door. She pulled my hand from her face and spoke in a quieter tone.

“When?! How?! Where?! Wait, why didn’t you want him to come here? Is it because I’m here because I can leave as long as you take pictures-”

“Adri,” I held my hand up, cutting her off, “I met him a few weeks ago. I saved him from a car accident so he agreed to play a role in one of my upcoming shows as compensation. We are meeting in a couple of weeks to start filming. As for the reason why I don’t want him here, it isn’t because of you.” I avoided continuing the topic as I reached for the phone again. Adri stopped me.

“Then why?” She pressed. I paused.

“... He doesn’t know I was the one who saved him.” I said, looking down at my cup and avoiding Adri’s eyes, “In the office, I'm ruthless. I treat my employees with a little more harshness then Bart because that’s how I receive good results. But, because of that, it has tarnished my reputation as a person. People outside of the office think I am some sort of soul sucking tyrant. Hell, Victor thought I was a man at first. When I saved Kiro, I had my motorcycle helmet on. It masked my face and thus, my identity. If Kiro knew it was me, he no doubt would have refused my offer to have him on the show…" I paused a moment, thinking over that day, "... He called me his hero. I would do anything to keep that title.”

Silence fell between Adri and me. I cleared my throat and reached for the phone again, but, before I could life it, I was stopped once again by Adri. I looked eyes with her. Her expression was soft and earnest.

“I don’t think you’re a soul sucking tyrant.” She said honestly. "And I'm sure if Kiro gave you the time then he will see it too. In fact, I'm sure that he will see you are the same hero that saved him that day. Even through your steel exterior, you can't hide that you're a good person." My heart skipped, stalling all of my movements momentarily.

“...You know,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “I have spent my whole life waiting to hear those words. Who knew it would come from some bratty teenager?”

"Hey!" Adri slapped my arm. I smirked and reached over to her, patting her head softly.

"Thanks, kid." I said earnestly, "It means a lot."

"Yeah, well, I mean it." Adri said, pulling my hand from her head, "You can talk to me about anything you know! Like, boys, your job, the reason why your company fucking exploded-"

"Woah! Swear jar, young lady!" I exclaimed, causing my throat to burn.

"I'll listen. After all, that’s what sisters do, right?"

I paused, "... you know, I've had tons of sisters before you but none of them have been so cool."

"Yeah, well," Adri leaned back in her chair, "I'm a rare breed."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. She sure was a keeper. Before I could be stopped a third time, I picked up the phone again and dialed the number I had dialed so many times before. I held the phone up to my ear, but didn't have to wait long as the line was picked up almost immediately.

“How is she?” Gavin’s voice was serious and resolute. He sounded as if he didn’t pick up the phone for small talk.

“...is this a bad time?” I asked warily, “I can call back later.”

“... I’m on my way.” And with that, Gavin hung up. I sat in shock for a moment, unable to fully grasp what had just happened. Nonetheless, I put the phone back down on the pad.

“He sounds like a hoot.” Adri said, her sarcastic tone returning. I hummed in mutual sarcasm and picked the phone up one last time. I dialed the number I had seen play on my screen numerous times in the rain. I prepared for a dial tone but was instead immediately met with the sharp voice of a machine.

“I’m sorry but the person you have dialed has their phone off. Please leave a message and try again later.”

Lucien must be in a meeting. I moved to hang up...

But I paused.

I moved the phone back up to my ear and waited for the machine to finish it’s instructions. Once a sharp beep played, I spoke again, “Hey Lucien. It’s Ike. I don't know what you’ve heard but Ike ‘n Bar Productions… burned down. I’m fine. Bart’s fine. The company is ok. I’m just calling to let you know I’m-we are ok. I’m in the hospital but not for long. I know you would be telling me to rest and drink lots of fluids... but if you could give me some advice to speed up my time here, I’m all ears. You’re probably very busy with your trip so I won’t call you again until you call me. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and sighed, then I grimaced and clutched my neck. My throat felt like it was going to catch flame.

“You should stop talking and rest.” Adri said, her voice noticeably softer than before as she handed me the cup, “But when you wake up, I expect more details on Kiro and the other boy you just called.” I smirked and nodded. Taking a drink, I layed down and closed my eyes. I didn’t sleep though. Thousands of thoughts plagued my mind. Ones on my employees and their well being, my company and where to go next, my family and how they’d be effected, Minor and the last I had seen him, Gavin’s serious tone, Lucien’s absence, Kiro’s disappointed voice,... Victor’s worried brow...

I must have been lost in my thoughts for quite a while before a knock came to the door. I opened my eyes and sat up. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by Adri. “Come in!” She called. I flashed a frown at her, but she was quick to combat it with a snarky smirk.

The door opened and a heavily armored police officer walked through it. He supported a bullet proof vest with various tools attached to the front of it. One of which being a radio playing the sound of static and an unfamiliar voice. The officer turned his radio off and approached my bed. His helmet blocked his face and made the sense of danger that he radiated even more intense.

“Officer,” I straightened myself in the bed, “How may I help you?” The officer froze. After a moment, he seemed to realize something then took off his helmet. I coughed slightly as I gasped, “Holy crud, Birdcop!? I almost didn’t recognize you!”

Gavin looked around the room then locked eyes with Adri. Her face suddenly burned a bright red. “Would you mind giving us a second?” He asked Adri seriously. Adri swallowed and nodded quickly as she stood up.

“I sh-should r-refill her water anyway.” Adri chuckled nervously. She looked over to me, eyes wide and lips thin, “I’ll be outside if you need me.” Adri took my cup and walked briskly out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Woah,” I grinned slightly, “That is the first time I’ve seen her that flustered! You must have a way with teenage girls.” Gavin stalled by the end of my bed. I looked up, locking onto his eyes. He cleared his throat and took a pad and pencil from one of the pockets in his vest. He walked around the bed and took a seat in Adri’s chair. Gavin started writing something down, avoiding my eyes. For some reason, I had felt a strange presence from him. The same presence I would feel in an interrogation room. But, for some reason I felt like the suspect instead of the victim.

“You look pretty heavily suited up for a hospital visit.’’ I joked, trying to lighten the tense air.

“I was in the middle of a mission when you called.” Gavin deadpanned, eyes still on the paper.

“Oh,” Guilt crushed my chest, “I’m sorry. If you need to leave-”

“What can you tell me about the bombing?” Gavin interrupted, finally looking up and locking eyes with me. His tone was serious, making me feel even more uneasy.

“Which one?” I teased, fidgeting under his stare.

“Both.” Gavin squinted his eyes slightly. My stomach dropped. Gavin studied my face for a moment, then continued, “Back at the warehouse, in the room where the bomb was hidden, there was something there, wasn’t there? Something that you’re keeping from me.” My body tensed and my expression fell. Gavin’s stare deepened.

“Why are you bringing up the warehouse now?” I asked, voice deeper then I intended. My throat burned slightly, “I’m in the hospital for a different reason.”

“You were in two explosions within the span of a week.” Gavin snapped, “That is no coincidence.”

I hurriedly searched for excuses. “The one in the warehouse was a demolition bomb. The bomb that hit me a couple of days ago was an incendiary bomb.”

“That doesn’t change a thing.” Gavin was getting impatient.

“On the contrary.” I adjusted myself in the bed confidently, “The incendiary bomb was thrown into my office. Whoever threw it had to know it was my office.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I fired a man a couple of weeks ago. He threatened me just before he left.”

“What?! Why didn’t you say anything to me about this?”

“Because, genius, a couple of weeks ago I hated you. In fact, it was that very day that we ran into Hickman.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The man I fired couldn’t have known that I would fire him weeks prior to setting up the attack with Hickman. Not even I knew I was going to fire him then. They aren’t connected but my old employee has motive to throw a ‘fire’ bomb at my office. Because I ‘fired’ him.” Gavin’s expression didn’t change. I pushed further, “And besides, how was the man who made the bomb in the warehouse supposed to know that I was the one who was going to find that hidden room first?”

“There could have been a camera.” Gavin finally said.

“Why would he have a camera if he was planning to blow the place up anyway?” I retorted. Gavin thought for a moment longer, then sighed.

I was trapped.

“All of those points are purely speculation unless you can find proof for it. But you still haven’t answered my question.” Gavin leaned closer to me, “What was behind that wall, Ikamara?” Gavin’s eyes had locked on to mine. There was no way he would let the question slide this time.

“...Pictures.” I almost couldn’t get the words out.

“Pictures?” Gavin pried, clicking his pen in preparation.

“Pictures of… evolvers. Taken in precarious places as if the photographer was unwilling to be seen.”

“Was there anything else?” Gavin returned his eyes to his notepad, scribbling a few notes and making it easy for me to twist the truth even farther.

“There was a map of Loveland… and… something else.” I sighed and tapped at my leg, “The words, ‘Operation Montu’ were hung on a banner on top of the wall. As if to say whomever had put all that stuff there has more planned.” Gavin finished writing and looked up to me, the once serious face now held anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

I looked back and forth between his eyes, holding back my tongue. Gavin’s expression shifted slightly. Eventually, I just sighed resignedly and pulled my eyes away from him.

“... there were pictures of me on the wall. I didn’t want to tell you and then be taken off of the case. You risked your life at The Wall when evolvers’ lives were put on the line. You left without me having a say in anything.. I know what it’s like to not want to be talked down from something. I just… didn’t want you to do it again on your own.”

A pregnant pause weighed heavily on the room. I clenched my fists in response and tried to calm my beating heart enough to stop Gavin from hearing it.

“... I didn’t put my life at risk for the sake of evolvers at that night.” Gavin’s voice was gentle. I looked up at him. His expression had dramatically softened. His shoulders also looked as if they had relaxed and he seemed to have gotten a little closer to me.

His eyes immediately locked onto mine, causing my heart to skip a beat and for me to involuntarily avert my eyes from his and back onto my bed. After slight movement from next to me, Gavin reached over and tugged at my face. His fingers were warm from being in his gloves for so long. The warmth made me lean into his movements and bring my eyes back onto his, settling like they had before.

“Ike,” His voice had become an octave lower, “I’m a cop. I put my life at risk everyday for the sake of the city. But that night… you were the only one I was thinking about.” My heart leaped to my throat. Gavin looked me seriously in the eyes. Much too seriously.

“You’re going to get yourself killed by doing that.” I smirked slightly and pulled his hand from my face. Gavin chuckled and slid his fingers into the palm of my hand.

“It would have been worth it.” He said, squeezing his hand in mine. My smile raised slightly as I directed my eyes back down to our hands. I could feel the warmth of Gavin’s calloused fingers tingle through my hand and up my arm…

I had missed that warmth.

The last time I had felt it was-...

An image of Gavin’s lifeless body flashed in my mind. Suddenly the hand in mine felt foregin.

“Welp,” I cleared my throat and straightened myself, letting go of Gavin’s fingers, “I don’t want to hold you from your work any longer.” Gavin cleared his throat as well and nodded.

“Right.” He said, standing up, “I’ll let you know when I am back so we can discuss this case further.”

“Right.” I leaned back onto the bed, lost in thought, “Thanks.”

“No problem. And don’t worry about being kicked from the case.” Gavin said reassuringly, “As long as it wasn’t just your picture on the wall, you’ll be ok.”

“Cool.” I said, avoiding his eyes and nodding, “Good to know.” Gavin popped opened back up the pouch for his notepad... then paused.

“...One more thing.” Gavin sat back down and pulled my arm towards him. He reached into his pouch and pulled something from it. Before I could get a good look at it, he set it in my hand. In the middle of my palm was a silver chain with a small dove sitting on it. Memories of when I was thirteen came flooding back to me. Memories of sitting at the park, bandaging my new scars and shoving away tears from my eyes. A flourish of wind and flower pedals greeted my face as a group of beautiful doves flew in front of me, beautifully… freely…

“Ike,” Gavin broke the memory I found myself lost in, “Are you ok?”

I slowly nodded and pulled my gaze back to him, “Why are you giving me this?”

“I put a tracker in it.” Gavin took back the bracelet, “The next time you are in danger, I’ll be able to respond instantly.”

“Next time?” I asked as he wrapped the bracelet around my wrist, “Are you making plans that I should know about?” Gavin flashed me a raised eyebrow and a smirk as he messed with the clasp. After a bit of fumbling, he finished clipping on the bracelet, allowing it to dangle from my wrist nicely. I pulled it closer to me, touching the charm delicately.

“It’s beautiful.” I found myself saying without realizing it.

“I’m glad you like it.” I looked up and caught Gavin staring at me. His eyes were just as gentle as they were before. I held on to them a moment longer before pulling myself from them.

Gavin stood back up. “I should get going.” I hummed in response, admiring the charm once more. Gavin walked to the door.

As Gavin watched Ike struggle to maintain her tough image, memories from before flashed in his mind. It was hard to think that just a little while ago, they were at each other’s throats. But now,

“Be safe.” I said quietly. Gavin stopped in his steps. Realizing what I had just said, I added, “Or don’t. You know. Do whatever you want. It’s your life. Don’t listen to me...” My voice trailed off. I shoved my hands together as my face burned.

“I will.” Gavin reassured, redirecting my attention to him, “I promise.” A soft smile rose on my lips. I moved to cover it up but it was too late. Gavin’s ears burned as his smile grew as well. What had happened to us? We went from anger, to bickering, to teasing, to...

He hadn’t remembered the last time he had felt this drawn to someone.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Two-Meters-Too-Thick-Vest!” I scoffed.

Gavin cleared his throat and turned back to the door. “That hospital gown makes you look fat by the way.” My smile dropped.

And we are back to teasing.

“I’m just saying that you should try to get out of it as soon as you can!” Gavin held his hands up as he opened the door, “I’ll let your sister back in.”

“Thanks,” I rolled my eyes then paused a moment, “...hey.” I called to him. Gavin paused at the door, “...Your vest doesn’t really make you look fat.” Gavin turned back to me, his eyebrow raise handsomely. “You do a good enough job of that on your own.” I added. Gavin’s smile fell as mine raised. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

That man…

Footsteps came from the door. I looked over and watched as Adri walked into the room, red faced and holding my newly refilled water carefully.

“What’s with the face?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer was. Adri dazily looked up to me, eyes dreamy and smile soft.

“Who was that?” She asked, dazed.

“My neighbor, Gavin." I said, struggling to suppress an ever increasing grin, "He’s the police officer working my bombing case. Why?”

“If you don’t invite him over for dinner, I will.” Adri sat back in her seat and held her face in the palm of her hand.

“Oh really?” I finally released a grin and folded my arms, “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Don’t!!” Adri lunged at me to stop me from picking the phone up.

>>>

It had gotten dark outside by the time Maria had come to pick up Adri. I was left alone in the hospital room with nothing but the tv to keep me company. Even then, I wasn’t paying attention to it. My mind was still all over the place. More specifically, it was on the black mask with a green scarab.

Montu’s mask.

Something about it was familiar. Why was it familiar? Where had I seen that before? And the name Montu. Where was that from? Where had I heard that name?

"The Ike 'n Bar company's fire has finally gone out."

Hearing my name come from the tv, I snapped out of my thoughts and focused my eyes on the screen. It was a news story about my company's building. I cringed as they showed the footage from what had happened before. I grabbed the remote to turn off the channel when my eyes locked onto a figure behind the reporter. He was tall and in a black suit… and strangely familiar. He seemed to be running around, helping people in the street. I squinted at the screen, trying to make out the face from the bed I was bound to. Before I could finally focus on him, his attention snapped to the front of the burning building. An aerial shot revealed a blooded, soot covered, feminine figure coming from the building. She stumbled and leaned on the front door for support. The man moved to her but the footage seemed to glitch as he was suddenly by her side, helping her up and off of the ground. The man scooped up the woman and carried her away. Not to an ambulance or to a police officer but to a nearby car.

I furrowed my eyebrows and kept my eyes on the screen, unsure of what to make of what I had just seen. From the blood stains on the girl’s shirt and the matted brown hair, it could have only really been one person. And from the suit to the raven colored hair...

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice snapped me back to the attention of the room. I looked over to the door.

(Next)

#poor kiro #so worried #and birdcop??#i feel for the bois #but also i love that they hurt #hehehehhehehehehheh #mlqc #mlqc angst #mlqc fluff #mlqc kiro #mlqc gavin #mlqc oc #mr love #mr love kiro #mr love gavin #mlqc fanfiction

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welshdragonrawr · 4 years

Note

For the “let’s get personal asks”.... all of them?? Please?? I’ll do anything 🙈 ~🍑

Anythiiiiing? That’s a mighty offer. I’ll try to keep these short and simple cuz there’s so many and poor moots will end up suffering a long post on their dash. But if anyone wants a long-winded elaboration on anything, feel free to ask.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? This Is Me Trying by Taylor Swift, Landslide by Stevie Nicks, In the End by Linkin Park, Perfect Places by Lorde, Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers, Wasteland Baby by Hozier

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Sarah Paulson

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.However. Kits is glowering at me. I’m only too aware that...

4: What do you think about most? Life

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? Your latest [redacted] phone bill is ready. Check it out in your [redacted] account

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? With

7: What’s your strangest talent? Writing? It’s my only talent

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) Girls are incredible. Boys are alright.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? Yes

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? About a month ago

11: Do you have any strange phobias? So many, not sure if they’re full-blown phobias tho

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? No

13: What’s your religion? What’s the name for respecting aspects of a lot but not following one specifically?

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Walking?

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? Fleetwood Mac

17: What was the last lie you told? I haven’t got you anything yet

18: Do you believe in karma? Yes

19: What does your URL mean? I used to live in Wales and I’m too stubborn/attached to change it

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? Insecurity/Loyalty

21: Who is your celebrity crush? Sarah Paulson

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? No

23: How do you vent your anger? Writing

24: Do you have a collection of anything? Books

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Neither Phone I think

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? Yes and No

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? Metal scratching glass/Sarah Paulson’s voice

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? What if I had never gotten seriously ill when I did

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes and Yes

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. Phone/Blanket

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? Jacket potatoes cooking

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? [Redacted] Hospital

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? East?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? Hozier?

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? To make the most of the miraculous fact we’re here at all

36: Define Art. Truth, Beauty, Horror and History

37: Do you believe in luck? Yes

38: What’s the weather like right now? Grey and overcast

39: What time is it? 1pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? No, so no

41: What was the last book you read? Thin Air by Michelle Paver

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? No

43: Do you have any nicknames? So many

44: What was the last film you saw? The Princess Diaries

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Just cuts and bruises so far luckily

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? Yes

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? Sarah Paulson

48: What’s your sexual orientation? Lesbian

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? Yes

50: Do you believe in magic? Sometimes

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? Sometimes

52: What is your astrological sign? Scorpio

53: Do you save money or spend it? Save

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? Car accessories for a xmas present

55: Love or lust? Love

56: In a relationship? ‘It’s complicated’

57: How many relationships have you had? 3 I think?

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Yes

59: Where were you yesterday? At home

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? Flowers

61: Are you wearing socks right now? No

62: What’s your favourite animal? Otter

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? Kindness

64: Where is your best friend? Too far away

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. @serawalkerwrites, @sisterxwinters, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @thefandomlesbian, @awildgothappeared

66: What is your heritage? Not much

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? Reading in bed

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? Why don’t you ask him?

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? Yes

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Yes

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Help the dog

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? a) certain people b) visit my loved ones c) yes

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? Shake it Out by Florence and the Machine

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? [Redacted]

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Communication, Kindness and Care

77: How can I win your heart? Be Kind

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? Sometimes

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? Deciding to message the ones who’ve become my closest friends

80: What size shoes do you wear? 5 (european size)

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? Don’t really know, probably something literary

82: What is your favourite word? Fernweh

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. Loved ones

84: What is a saying you say a lot? Keep on keeping on

85: What’s the last song you listened to? This Is Me Trying by Taylor Swift

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? Purple/Red/Blue

87: What is your current desktop picture? Drunk Princess Leia (cover art from Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher)

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? He who shall not be named

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? What are you truly afraid of?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? Go back to sleep probably

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Telekinesis?

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? Some time with my Aunt

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Onset of chronic illness

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? Florence Welch

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Florida for reasons

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? No

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? Yes

98: Ever been on a plane? Yes

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? Be kind to one another. This world is a shitshow right now. Choose to be a good plot twist in it.

That was long, so congrats to anyone who actually sat through/read all that.

#ask things

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trashfor-imagines · 4 years

Text

If There’s Light There’s Hope | 1

Bakugou x Fem!Reader (BNHA)

Summary: U.A. High School was your dream. You wanted to save people. You never expected how wild your journey would be and you certainly never expected a hot headed boy to play as large of a role as he would. Warnings: Swearing

Reader’s Quirk: Celebration - reader can absorb energy from light sources and create explosions that look like fireworks. Overusing this power can cause heat exhaustion or sometimes heat stroke.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7]

Getting into U.A. was a dream come true. You were originally placed in General Education, Class 1-C. Your performance during the entrance exams was a mixed bag. You had aced the written exam, but your performance during the practical wasn’t as high as you wanted. Luckily for you there was opportunity to move into the Hero Department - so long as you proved yourself.

The U.A. Sports Festival was your moment to shine and you did just that. Hesitation and overthinking had been your downfall during the entrance exams. With the right Hero recommendation, you could get back on track to becoming a Pro-Hero. You managed to make it to the Battle Tournament where you had your first real interaction with the hot tempered student you had seen throughout the day, Bakugou Katsuki of 1-A.

In fact, he was your first opponent and you were determined to win, however you were quickly knocked out of there by a large explosion created by the two of you that sent you flying into the stands. Quickly thinking on your feet, you did what it took to avoid hurting any of the festival spectators, using your quirk to redirect your body’s projection. You weren’t going to be able to stop your body, but you could change where you’d make impact.

Thankfully, you’d been saved by Endeavor of all heroes. He caught you with ease before you hit the staircase, an annoyed expression on his face. He certainly wasn’t going to allow All Might to save you; he’d seen the Number One Hero start to make his move. This also meant you were officially out of bounds. It was the serious expression you wore that caused Endeavor to share these words with you. You still had the will to keep fighting within you.

“Remember this moment and keep that fire burning within you. If your fight had been outside of this fishbowl, you’d still have your chance. There are no boundaries in the real world.”

He was right. When he put you down, you bowed deeply, thanking him for being a hero you could aspire to be.

“Thank you, Endeavor. I promise to continue fighting and make it into the Hero Department; that way I can work to become a Pro-Hero like you.”

Two days later you received a letter waiting for you at home.

Dear (L/N) (F/N),

It is with great pleasure that we inform you it is due to high recommendation of your recent performance at the U.A. Sports Festival that you have been accepted into the Department of Heroes at U.A. High School beginning Monday...

You didn’t need to read the rest! This was it.

The first person you called was Hitoshi. He managed to become not just a friend from junior high, but your best friend, and there was no way you wanted him to find out any other way. Despite the risk of him being jealous, you knew it was the best. His response actually surprised you.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), I’m right behind you. I’ll join the Hero Department soon enough, just watch.”

Monday came soon enough and you were sure to make it to class early. Your instructions were to wait outside of the faculty room for your new homeroom teacher. You expected Vlad King from 1-B, but when he simply gave you a smile that morning and walked off, you realized with great shock which class you had made it into.

You stood with a calm and even demeanor in front of the class; inside you were racked with nerves. The boy who beat you in the Battle Tournament, Bakugou, sat staring out the window, his chin propped up by his hand, disinterested in you. Eraserhead introduced you unenthusiastically.

“You may recognize (Y/N) from the sports festival. She was in class 1-C, but has been invited to join 1-A,” he said simply to them. He turned to you. “Go ahead and introduce yourself. You can have a seat behind Miss Yaoyorozu in the back.”

Taking a step forward, you bowed and spoke, your voice gentle yet firm. “Good morning everyone. I’m (Y/N) and I'm thankful to be in your class. Let’s get along.”

As you walked to your seat, you felt a chill run down your spine. Bakugou’s eyes had quickly snapped to the side glowering at you. You avoided eye contact with anyone else and quickly took your seat, doing your best to focus on Eraserhead.

He shared the class’s tally of nominations from Pro-Heroes and you were excited to see that you had done quite well with 416 nominations. Apparently you had been impressive to many heroes with how you managed to divert your point of impact during your Battle Tournament match. Being conscious of your surroundings and quick to think on your feet wasn’t something to brush off; apparently not everyone had the capability to be aware. He continued on about getting work-place experience and explained that we’d be deciding on our hero names with Midnight to which several students cheered in excitement.

When Midnight arrived, you were immediately filled with dread, realizing you had to present your name to everyone.

“Jubilee.” You stood in front of the class, doing your best to hide your discomfort under their gazes.

“Interesting! Now tell me why.” Midnight hummed thoughtfully at your name.

“Because of my quirk. I can...” you trailed off deciding not to explain and instead showing them an example. “If you’ll turn off the light please?” Midnight flipped the classroom’s light switch, dimming the room; the only light streaming in from window. Reaching outward toward the classroom windows, you made a single grasping motion with your hand. Your hand faintly glowed and with a simple motion, opened your hand and a small light shot up, exploding just above your head, like a golden firework. There were hushed aww’s from your new classmates as the lights came back on. “My quirk looks like fireworks at night and who doesn’t like a celebration?”

With Midnight’s approval, you gave a bow and returned to your seat.

The rest of the day seem to pass quickly after that. You’d gotten a list of agencies to choose from for your work-place internships. The Endeavor Hero Agency. It brought tears to your eyes as you stared at the name. Had Endeavor really drafted you? You guessed being blasted into the air and then caught by the man would leave a lasting impression. Your decision was easy and you quickly turned in your choice along with several other students.

Lunch time came around and you were thankful. The content some of their classes consisted of were just topics the General Education Department touched upon. It was going to be hard to keep up for a while, but you knew you could do it. Your gaze wandered over your classmates, subconsciously analyzing them and their behaviors.

A fuzzy pink girl bounded up to you as you grabbed your bento and made your way to leave the classroom. “(Y/N) why don’t you come have lunch with us?”

You were touched, your hand finding its way over your heart. “Thank you, but maybe tomorrow.”

Bowing politely, you quickly made off to meet Hitoshi in the courtyard where he sat under a tree waiting patiently for you. He gave a lazy wave and began digging into his lunch, chatting about your individual mornings. You went into depth about what Hitoshi would need to focus on for when he finally made his way into the Hero Department. He soaked this information up, taking what you had to say seriously. Despite his proclamations that other students were simply obstacles, you knew the truth behind your friendship which made you value it more. You’d known him since junior high after all. Soon the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“Hitoshi, I’m expecting you to join me soon, okay?” You smiled at him warmly to which he returned the expression.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful and classes were over. Iida asked that you stay behind to help with cleaning the classroom, to which you complied by cleaning the windows. You recognized the few others helping, having picked up on their names throughout the day. Kaminari and Kirishima were sweeping the floor while Hagakure and Ashido were wiping down surfaces. Then there was Bakugou who was also on window cleaning duty. Pausing briefly, you observed the brute for a moment. Looking away before you could get caught staring, you quickly finished up and left.

You had just made it past the walls of the school when a rough voice echoed out from behind you. Stopping in your tracks, you refused to look back, your grip on your backpack tightening.

“What the hell do you want? Stop fucking staring at me in class would you!” his voice aggressive and angry.

Turning around you looked him dead in the eye, catching a look of surprise as it flashed over his face. “I’m going to beat you. One day soon, Bakugou. There aren’t boundaries in the real world.”

Life after that day seemed to accelerate. You barely spoke to Bakugou after that encounter. Slowly, you got to know your other classmates and found most of them to be quite pleasant and tolerable. Your internships seemed to fly by. You had gotten to know Todoroki as he also chose his father’s agency and found you enjoyed his calm and silent demeanor.

The night Stain had been captured, you had gone on patrol with Endeavor and Todoroki. You listened and stayed with Endeavor while his son ran off to help Midoriya. After Endeavor and Gran Torino defeated the Nomu, you were given instructions to stay with the sidekicks and learn something from them, leaving you behind. After the events of that night, Endeavor had you participate in filling out incident paperwork with his sidekicks where you learned Todoroki had to be hospitalized. You made sure to visit him in the hospital during your lunch break the next day. The rest of the internship went by uneventfully, thank goodness.

Soon it was final exams and then you were off to quirk training camp.

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #bakugou katsuki #katsuki

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jewpacabruhs · 4 years

Text

hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about.

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do.

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it.

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally.

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020!

#txt #mine

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dreamwritesimagines · 5 years

Text

Don’t You Love Me? 25- Coming Back [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Final chapter! <3 Thank you so much for your amazing support guys, love you!<3 (Due to the linking issue, you can get the earlier chapters on my masterlist! 😀 )

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language. Read with care please.

Summary: Recovery takes time.

Word Count: 3143

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

Waking up in the hospital after practically exploding a chip in your heart wasn’t as fun as you thought it would be. In all honesty, you had a feeling Steve hadn’t found it fun either, judging by the fact that he had yelled at you for almost half an hour, about how reckless you had been-

And contrary to popular belief, getting yelled at by Steve because you had been reckless didn’t take away the irony of the situation, as Bucky had told him before dragging him out of the hospital room.

Also, it seemed as if the team had made this deal to yell at you in turns, because as soon as Steve was pulled out of the room, Pepper had walked in;

“I’m going to ask your doctor when you can leave this place, so that I’ll know when to smack you in the head.”

“Good thinking, can you tell them to change the jello as well? I don’t like strawberry.”

By the time you were ready to leave the hospital, you had already made your decision and came up with this huge speech but of course, it wasn’t extremely helpful with Steve. You had told him how he couldn’t see you while you were in rehab, and as expected, he had reacted very badly.

“You can’t be there alone!”

“You were the one who found the place Capcake, you know people aren’t alone in there.”

“Y/N, you just got better-“

“Yeah, it’s either now or never. I already talked to Fury-“

“But I can visit, right?”

“No.”

“Doll-“

“There’s no fucking way you’re seeing me like that, Steve.”

So that meant ninety days without seeing Steve, or anyone on the team. You had to admit, you never thought they’d actually respect your wishes and not show up, but for all you knew, Tony could’ve built a habit of hacking cameras so maybe they had seen you without your knowledge.

You drummed your fingernails on the small coffee table, clicking your tongue before you heard someone pulling the seat across the table, and you looked up to see Jake.

“Holy shit,” he said as he gawked at you, “You’re sober.”

“Yeah man, I’m as shocked as you are.”

Jake covered his mouth, still blinking dumbly, then lowered his hand, “That’s why you have been MIA for the last months?”

“Three months, yeah.”

“How-?”

“Oh long story,” You shook your head, “Um… My ex kidnapped me, basically made me an addict again, then I had uh… I had a heart attack-“

“What?”

“Yeah and I saw the light- of the operation room, and um… then yeah- then rehab. I have been planning it for a while but near death experience sort of… speeds stuff up, who knew?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’ve been away, not because of being a dickhead,” you thought for a moment, “Well half of it. Half of it was still because of me being a dickhead.”

“And I’m guessing that’s the introduction to a speech. Strong start.”

You stifled a laugh, “Straight to it, huh?”

“I’m familiar with stages of recovery, comes with the job.”

“So I don’t need a speech at all then, you got the idea. Good talk.”

He shot you a look, “Y/N. Come on. You spent three months in rehab, start the amends speech.”

“Fuck’s sake- okay,” You cleared your throat, “I um… I put you in danger, even if you didn’t know about it.”

“How?”

“My asshole of an ex, he apparently-“ You pressed your lips together, “He hurt the people I slept with. You got lucky, some of them- not so much.” You mumbled, “I didn’t know though, I swear to you.”

Jake nodded slowly, “When did you leave rehab?”

“Uh- today.”

He gawked at you “I’m sorry?”

You nodded, “You’re the first person I spoke to, I actually-“ You motioned at your duffel bag, “I haven’t had a chance to drop by my apartment yet.”

Jake smiled at the waiter when he approached you and ordered a coffee, while you sipped on your water.

“And you and the national hero?”

You shrugged slightly, “That’s some complicated shit.”

“I still have an hour until my shift.”

You huffed out a breath, looking up at the sky before you cleared your throat,

“I told him he could…do whatever in these three months.” You muttered, “See other people and everything. And if he still- if he still wanted me by the time I left rehab, we’d be together.”

“And?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.”

Jake licked his lips, “Scared of finding him with someone?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded, “I have this image of him and a chick with a pink frilly skirt from fifties which makes no sense because he was frozen during fifties.”

“You could totally pull off a frilly skirt.”

“You shut your mouth.” You told him, making him chuckle as the waiter brought his coffee.

“No, I-“ Jake eyed you up and down, “Have you checked a mirror since you left rehab?”

“No man, I came here without seeing my reflection because it’s important to avoid self-conceit, what the fuck-“

“No, Y/N-“ Jake chuckled, “You look really different. In a good way.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to control your smile and sipped your water again, while Jake thought for a moment.

“But hey, if you want to shop for a pink frilly skirt, I’m game.”

“Screw you too.”

“No I’m serious, I could give some guy perspective on the matter-“

“Oh I’m so gonna hack you.”

You had to admit, maybe Jake was right. Seeing your reflection in the mirror and just how much it had changed kept surprising you, but seeing yourself sober and actually pulled together was definitely a shock you wouldn’t shake off anytime soon.

The dark shadows under your eyes were gone, for starters. Your skin looked much better, and that sickly feeling that tended to show on your face was also gone. Your eyes weren’t red-rimmed anymore, instead you actually looked-

Healthy.

“Well I’ll be damned,” You muttered as you put down the lipstick, and fixed your hair. You felt like a girl on her prom night, only your prom date wasn’t aware that you were back from rehab and could have moved on in these three months-

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thoughts and left the bathroom, and looked around the apartment. Even if you dreaded seeing the bottles, you knew you had to clean your your fridge eventually, so you figured you could take out the trash on the way out and walked to the fridge then opened it, but then froze.

In the fridge, there were multiple bottles of water instead of booze, and there was a note stuck on one of them. You slowly reached out to take the bottle, your eyes skimming the lines.

Natasha has your keys, she let me borrow them.

Steve.

You could barely feel the tears filling your eyes as you smiled, he had come to clear it for you, while you were away.

For when you’d come back.

Oh God, you were in so much trouble….

You grabbed another bottle before you closed the fridge, then grabbed your backpack and made your way out of the apartment. You got into the first cab that you could find, gave him the address, then bit on your nails, looking out the window.

“And listen, now that we’re talking about it, I don’t want you to feel obliged.”

Steve looked up, frowning deeply “Obliged?”

“Yeah, to wait for me. Even I don’t know how long I’ll be staying in rehab-“

“Y/N-“

“So if someone….like, catches your attention, or your dick’s attention-“

“Y/N.”

“No, I’m not trapping you, okay?”

He gawked at you, “Trapping me?”

“Steve, if you like someone else while I’m gone, go for it-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, I-“ You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath, “I might be gone for a long time, and it could… it could lead to you realizing things. If you find somebody, I don’t want you to force yourself to wait for me.”

His blue eyes narrowed before he shot you a stubborn look.

“But I am waiting, Y/N. No matter how long it takes.”

Maybe he had done exactly what he said he would.

Or maybe you’d just find him with a girl with frilly skirt.

“Jesus, what is it with me and skirts?” You mumbled before the driver pulled over in front of Steve’s building. You took a deep breath, then paid the driver before you pushed open your car door and stepped outside.

His light was on.

You half wished you had brought a boombox but you were sure he wouldn’t get the joke, so you quickly climbed the stairs, walking past Sharon’s door and stopped at his. Your heart was beating in your throat, but you gripped the strap of your backpack with one hand and knocked on the door with the other.

“Please don’t let there be a chick unless she’s up for a threesome, please don’t let there be a chick unless she’s up for a-“ Your prayer was cut off when the door opened, and you looked up at him.

“Holy shit, you grew a beard?”

He stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were actually there, and you cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from how handsome he was.

“So I would’ve brought wine and condoms but um… you know, the sober thing, so we have water bottles. And- and condoms- am I allowed to joke about alcohol now?” You wondered out loud, “So um… yeah. I’m back. Hi. Nice beard- Jesus Christ Steve, I prepared a speech but my ovaries are screaming right now, that’s a dick move.”

He looked almost frozen, and you shifted your weight.

“Anyway I… okay, here we go, are you ready? So apparently you have lots of time to think in- in rehab, who knew right? And to be honest, somehow all my thoughts kept going to you, and I know I said you could go for it if you found someone but I- I hope you didn’t find someone, because I- I love you.” You paused “Holy fuck, I actually said that. I- I mean apparently I love your beard more, but you know, you can live with-” You were cut off when he pulled you closer to kiss you deeply, making you breathless and you almost stumbled when he pulled back, holding onto his arms.

“Welcome back,” Steve said, making you smile, then pulled you into the apartment and closed the door.

You felt like you could actually spend the eternity there, in Steve’s bed, just like that. He dragged his fingertips over your naked back while you rested your head on his chest, deep in thought as the morning light shone into the room.

Peace.

It was actually peaceful.

“How do you feel?” he mumbled to your hair and you looked up at him, heaving a deep sigh.

“Played.”

“What?”

“Sober sex is better than drunk sex, who knew?”

Steve chuckled, “I meant overall, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, and shifted slightly in his embrace, “The first couple of weeks were bad but then- I’m better now.”

“But do you miss it?”

“Booze?” You shrugged, “One of the things they teach you is that it’s not- it’s not like flu, you know? It doesn’t go away like that, sometimes it takes years, but you have to fight through it.”

Steve nodded slowly, nuzzling to your hair, “I missed you,” he mumbled and you smiled softly,

“So I take it you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, and tried to play it cool, “Yeah good. I mean there was this really hot doctor back at rehab-“

“Wait, what?”

“But I was never the one for the naughty doctor fantasy- I’m joking!” You let out a laugh, “Oh God Steve, your face…”

“What, I didn’t see you for three months now.” He mumbled, looking down at you, “So what now?”

You took a deep breath, and rolled onto your back before you sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest,

“I’ll go and see Fury, he promised I could go back to my job when I came back.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be a little too much?”

You shook your head, “I can handle it. Besides, I need to keep busy, you know? That’s really important in the whole… after rehab thing.”

“I read that people need stability too,” Steve nodded and you pulled your brows together,

“Wait, you read about rehab?”

“Yeah and- I think we should both go on runs, they say exercise helps.”

“Steve, what-?”

“And I read this website that says learning new things can also help, so I’ll teach you how to draw. It could get your mind off….that.”

You gawked at him,

“You actually made research?”

“I actually have a list,” he reached out to grab a small notebook from the bedside table and handed it to you, but as soon as he did, someone knocked on the door. You took the list from him as he pressed a kiss on your forehead, then grabbed his pants and shirt to put them on before walking to the door. Your eyes skimmed the list, a smile warming your face but you turned your head as soon as you heard Bucky and Natasha’s voices.

“Jesus Christ Rogers, you missed the meeting?”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, punk?”

“I was uh-“ Steve cleared his throat, “Busy.”

There was a couple of seconds of silence, before you heard Natasha’s voice.

“Whose shirt is that?”

“Hm?”

“The shirt I’m seeing, thrown on the couch. Whose shirt is that?”

Oh shit.

“Steve, I’m going to kick your ass!” Bucky snapped at him, “Y/N is in rehab, and what- you have a girl here?!”

Scratch that, this was gonna be fun.

“What? Buck-“

“I can’t believe you’d do that!”

You laughed to yourself before you grabbed Steve’s shirt to put it on, then silently opened the door.

“After everything she’s been through-“

“Yeah Rogers, what gives?”

“Yeah Rogers, dick move.” You said as you approached the living room, crossing your arms and leaning sideways to the doorframe, “Hi guys.”

Bucky and Natasha fell silent almost immediately before Natasha snapped out of it and rushed to pull you into a hug. You hugged her back tight, then grinned at Bucky as soon as Natasha pulled back,

“Nice to see you guys took over the mission of giving him a hard time while I was gone,” You winked at Natasha and Bucky punched Steve’s arm gently,

“Why didn’t you tell us she was back?”

“I was going to, but…”

“They were occupied, Barnes.”

“Yeah man, catching up,” you wiggled your brows while Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking elsewhere, “Anyway, none of you dickheads thought of letting me know he was growing a beard? I would’ve escaped from rehab.”

“Exactly why we didn’t tell you.”

“Come on Y/N, tell him he looks like a caveman. I was waiting for you to come back so that you could tell him-”

You shook your head, “No way man, the beard stays.”

“See? She likes it.” Steve shot Bucky a proud look and you turned to Natasha.

“How’s everything at SHIELD? Do I still have a job?”

Natasha scoffed, “Fury fired about ten different people in the last three months. I’d say he’s looking forward to seeing you. That being said-” she turned to Steve, “Everyone is in the tower, including Fury, and we need you there. And her.”

You and Steve exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue, then shrugged,

“Great. I’m gonna go and get dressed then.”

“Pepper, you know this sober thing doesn’t change the fact that I need to breathe, right?”

Pepper let out a shaky breath as you patted her back and she pulled back to let you breathe.

“I was so worried, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you made my life a living hell and you weren’t even here,” Tony stated before he pulled you into a hug, making you smile and hug him back.

“You should be used to that by now.” You said as he pulled back, “So, what’s happening?”

Tony stole a glance at Steve over your shoulder,

“It’s about Trent.”

Steve took in a breath, “Tony,”

“I know-“

“No, stop,” You motioned between them, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, “What about him?”

“They’re putting him on a trial.”

“And?”

“They need evidence.”

“I sent all of you the evidence. All those files-“

“He has some really powerful lawyers so they want a…” Tony cleared his throat, “Why am I always the one who’s giving you guys the bad news?”

“What do they want?”

Tony heaved a sigh “A witness.”

“Tony, she just came back.”

“Listen, I’m not enjoying this more than you do-“

“No, no it’s okay.” You tried to laugh, “If anything, it’s great. One last middle finger and then I can help taking down HYDRA, like-“ you pumped a fist in the air, “Like I know it’s my destiny.”

“Easy there, Hacker Potter.”

“I was actually going for Pokemon, but that also works.” You said, “Hey, uh… ehm, Capslock, can I borrow you for a moment?”

Steve’s head shot up at the safe word, then even if he still wanted to argue, he nodded, “After you.”

You walked out of the room to make your way to the elevator, then pressed the button, and took a deep breath, Steve stealing a look at you as soon as you both walked into the elevator. Both of you were completely silent until you left the elevator and Steve pushed open the door to the roof, letting you walk out before he did. You approached the edge, then crossed your arms and turned to him.

“You know stress causes early aging right?”

Steve scoffed a laugh, “Doll…”

“You don’t want me to go up there, on that witness stand.”

“I just- I don’t want anything to trigger something, okay?”

“That’s not how sobriety works Capsy. I won’t run back to booze the moment I’m stressed, I can’t live my life like that.”

Steve heaved a sigh and you smiled slightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“I can handle it.” You said, “I always do, remember? With you.”

Steve brushed your hair off your face, “Okay. Then I’ll be by your side, darling.”

“Deal.” You smiled before you kissed him again, then pulled back, and entwined your fingers with his to pull him to the door.

“Come on then Capcake. Time to bring HYDRA down.”

The End

Special thanks go to: @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @thorohdamnson @girlwhoisfearless @fictionwillneverdie @aikeji @evanstar @thatprofessionalfangirl @stargeek727 @superwolfchild-fan@marauderskeeper @whogaveuspermission @local-space-ace @marvels-mistress @part-time-patronus @vikrone @not–even-a-real–fan @bb8falcon @mamaraptor @propertyofpoeandbucky @myrabbitholetoneverland @love-for-fanfics @alyssiamarierenee @kiddikatxd @marvellousrunningbang @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @original-wintersoldier @supernaturaldean67 @sunnyshoes @wannabebeautyqueenx @justbook-s and lovely anons! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this, you’re amazing! <3

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frostedpuffs · 6 years

Text

breathe—

breathe— Summary: Adrien had always been fond of Marinette. That was a truth he held close to his heart. When he nearly meets his fate on an otherwise peaceful autumn afternoon, his world is thrown into typhoon of muddled thoughts and vague memories. Though questions burn at his mind as he lies awake, one particular detail stays constant: a familiar face in the crowd that's been by his side every step of the way. It's a long road to recovery. But with his partner close, what's there to be afraid of? Rated: T+ Pairing(s): Adrien/Marinette

Chapter 1/2 Word count: 9,219 Also read on: ao3

He'd heard the screams before the pain even made itself known. Then it was quick, making no haste as it assaulted his body as if he'd fallen six stories and lost any ounce of breath that remained his chest.

A noise rang out—deafening to his ears—and then he was on the ground, collapsed on the surface of a stage where thousands of fans caught well more than a glimpse of what had transpired. Their faces twisted in horror and mouths were agape with their accompanying shrieks.

Panic. Panic. Panic.

A friend in the crowd. Burning—hot, wet pain in his chest and a deep red staining his hands—

then nothing.

He slept.

Everything was fuzzy.

A desolate blackness filled Adrien's vision as faint murmurs danced by his ears. His head pounded as if his brain had melted to mush. Any coherent thought had long slipped out the door, and as he tried to move—to sit up or even find the strength to open his eyes—Adrien cursed the sluggish nerves that left his body feeling like a still, lifeless form wherever he lay.

But he wasn't lifeless. He was very much alive. At least… He was pretty sure he was.

Where was he? Home?

No, no… That couldn't be right. The bed was far too uncomfortable to be his own, and there were too many voices just out of intelligible earshot. He heard his name once or twice though it was faint—the voices barely recognizable—and he could have sworn he felt someone touching his hands…

Oh.

Someone was crying.

As he listened, he noticed that the voice belonged to a girl. And not just any girl—a friend of his. His partner. He would know her anywhere.

Why was she crying? Was that her hand enveloping his own?

Oh, how he wished he could make her smile…

It's okay, he thought, so desperately wishing he could speak or even squeeze her hand. I'm fine, Ladybug.

It was too tiresome to stay awake after that.

Continue reading on ao3 or under the cut! ↓

He'd been shot.

That was what Adrien had heard from the passing whispers in the hall, anyway.

It had been sudden—quick and excruciating—but he barely remembered a thing. Well, except for the blinding, searing pain that had exploded in his chest, of course.

But that felt like forever ago.

All he could think about was that he was wrapped up in some uncomfortable bandages and his head was absolutely pounding. The sheets underneath his body were cold and sleek against his skin. He shivered as a gust of cool air chilled the room.

Adrien didn't feel like opening his eyes. That could wait; most things could. At the moment he focused solely on the sounds of people conversing somewhere and the gentle pitter-patter of heeled shoes on tile floor.

This didn't sound like home.

He wouldn't be surprised if he weren't in his bed. He had been nearly killed, apparently, and that did warrant time spent away from home… Right?

But still… It didn't mean he wanted to be nestled in some strange, bright room where the light shone through his closed eyelids.

He groaned. Pain shot up his spine as he adjusted his position. A cry rose from his throat, his brain jolting awake from the electricity that burned at his insides. With a wince he blinked open his eyes, the heaviness that dragged at them causing him to shut them the second sunlight filtered into his vision, the sudden burst of yellow rays sending a headache to pierce his skull.

Teeth gritting, Adrien sighed as he found himself slipping back into darkness. There were still voices outside, quiet and calm, mumbling about something that sounded as if it was of great importance. His name came up a few times, as well as the words "lucky" and "healing", which didn't do anything to clear his muddled thoughts. Truthfully, he was confused.

There was a terrible dry feeling in his mouth. His tongue felt like cotton as he ran it over his teeth. Licking his lips, Adrien wheezed, his voice nothing more than a cracked whisper as he pleaded for someone to bring him some water.

Nobody came.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

For the first time in his life, Adrien wished he were home.

He woke up again the next day to the sound of someone saying his name.

Still, it was hard to find the energy to open his eyes. Though from the lack of light penetrating his eyelids, he assumed the sun had already set.

"Adrien's doing better," someone said, their voice soft yet ultimately unfeeling. "The authorities are continuing their search for the shooter, but it's been days and there's still no sign of the culprit."

Another voice joined in, higher in pitch. They spoke with such emotion in their tone. "And what about his father?"

The first voice—one Adrien assumed belonged to a female—answered, "Gabriel's been… Drawn back. He hasn't left his room much. Hasn't visited." The woman sighed. "I'm afraid he's in shock. It's like he's pretending this whole thing hasn't even happened. Having this occur during Fashion Week of all times definitely doesn't help the situation in the slightest."

So, his father hadn't visited him once. If Adrien could've mustered the strength to move, he would have scowled—perhaps even cried. Though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Gabriel was never one to openly show his feelings. Not even when Adrien needed him to.

(Hell, especially when he needed him to.)

He swallowed thickly. His throat felt tight with the urge to sob.

"He hasn't even visited his own son?" the other voice asked, aghast. It was another woman, though she sounded far more kind. "What kind of father doesn't visit their own child in the hospital after he's been shot in the chest? That's despicable. Why, if it were my daughter in that bed, I'd—"

"We're well aware of what you'd do, Madame Cheng," the first woman sniffed. "But as Gabriel's assistant I must ask you to refrain from throwing insults. He's doing the best he can right now, especially considering Paris Fashion Week had to be cancelled due to this… Mishap. This whole thing has turned the event into a mess."

Madame Cheng…? Why did that name sound so familiar?

Adrien tried to speak up, but his voice fizzled and died in his chest. If only it wasn't so hard to open his eyes…

Madame Cheng huffed. "Is that all you and Gabriel care about? Fashion week? Look, I'm sorry to break it to you, but his one and only child nearly died. You were there. His father was there, my daughter was there. We all saw it. In fact—" her voice became louder, causing Adrien's head to ache, "—you can tell Gabriel that if it hadn't been for Marinette, his son would be dead right now, no thanks to him. What kind of father just stands there while his son is bleeding out on a stage in front of him—"

"You and your family have done enough," spat the first woman. "I must ask you to leave the room now, Madame Cheng, as you're causing a scene. You might wake the boy with your outbursts."

Wake him? But he was already awake.

Madame Cheng's voice cracked as she continued. "That boy is your boss' only son! His child. My daughter saved his life—not you, Nathalie, and certainly not his father. I came here to see if he was okay. What are you here for? To see him wake up and get out of bed like everything is fine? For him to be ready to go back to modelling on a stage where he was nearly murdered? What kind of a family are you?"

"This is none of your concern—"

"I'm just worried about Adrien!" Madame Cheng cried. "You treat him like he's—he's a prop to be played with, not a teenager! He deserves to be loved, Nathalie, not ignored while he's recovering from an attempted homicide. This is negligence—"

"You need to leave. This does not involve you."

"It does involve me when my daughter is at home crying her eyes out because her friend almost died and his own father acts like he doesn't even care!"

Adrien groaned, the increase in volume of the two women's voices causing his headache to assault him from the back of his neck. He hissed as he moved his arm; a needle poked at his skin from the inside. "Can you both please stop yelling?" he pleaded, raspy voice barely above a whisper. "It hurts."

Stunned silence was his reply.

He drifted off again after that.

He was flying.

Dashing across the city rooftops, he soared with his baton, spinning his wrists in a circular motion that was perfect for vaulting him into the sky. He twirled, the night's breeze flowing like salty summer air through his hair as it left memories of sunsets on his skin. The atmosphere was warm and easy, and as his metal-tipped boots skidded across the slick panels of Parisian apartments, he slipped—but he wasn't afraid.

No, he could never be. Not when he was transformed. Not when he was free.

His baton caught him in an alleyway, poised perfectly between two walls. He dropped feet-first onto the pavement below, dusting off his hands before springing himself back into the starlight. The moon's familiar weight settled on his shoulders, and it was with a grin on his face that Adrien took her for a ride, black tail whipping behind him as a reminder that he was home.

The city at night was his home.

Claws tracing down the well-worn brick of an aged building, Adrien took a moment to pause. He needn't catch his breath. No, he wasn't tired, but he wanted to simply allow himself a minute of stillness—of peace.

The brick was rough against his back. Adrien could feel his hair brushing the surface as he rested his head.

"Taking a nap on duty?"

Ladybug's voice was like honey to his ears. The sound was sweet as his eyes met hers, and that gorgeous blue he'd seen in all of his dreams shone like stars. It was—no, she was captivating, her black tresses dancing in the late night breeze as she carded her fingers through the strands. She'd forgone the twin ponytails and instead let it flow free. It was a gorgeous sight to behold.

Adrien's fingers tingled with the desire to brush her fringe out of her face.

He wanted to reply to her. He wanted to. But his voice wasn't in his chest tonight, as his heart was beating far too loudly for him to muster the strength to respond. Instead, Adrien scooted closer as she placed herself next to him, black-dotted suit matching the dark color of his own. Her skin smelled of cinnamon as he pressed his cheek against her shoulder.

"I'll always be with you," he wanted to say. "I love you."

But his lips were frozen, and suddenly he was on the ground with his gaze trained toward the sky. His chest burned wetly. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Adrien pulled his clawed hands back in terror as he noticed they were covered in blood.

His own blood, he realized, his stomach churning sickly at the gushing hole in his chest as red-stained tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Adrien," Ladybug cried, her face pale in terror. Her lips trembled as she screamed, "Get up! You have to get up! You have to be okay. Please!"

She was fading. Her face glitched like pixels in a corrupted computer program, and as she lifted her bare hands, her face—void of any mask—was blurred. But the choked sound of her sobs was unmistaken.

"Adrien," she bawled, voice full of despair. It was agony to his ears. "Please, please don't die."

His eyes snapped open.

With a throat like sandpaper, he looked around. The room he was in was small and empty save for himself, and it smelled of chemicals and cleaner. It was the same hospital room he'd been in for the last couple of days, he assumed. However, this was the first time he'd actually been able to see it.

His body hurt with every breath. Who knew breathing could be so painful?

Adrien could feel the dampness of tears on his cheeks. With a sigh so heavy it caused his chest to ache, he shuddered, trying to rid the memory of the horror his dream had presented him as a figure entered his room.

He didn't look up. No, no… That took too much energy. His eyes stayed fixed on the window. Through the barely-parted curtains, the Eiffel Tower glimmered in the far distance, and the city shone on, ignorant to the fact that Adrien was here in the hospital, aching and burning as if he'd just jumped out of a moving car on the freeway.

He pondered whether or not the citizens were missing their Chat Noir.

"Evening, honey," a woman's voice said, soft and welcoming. "It's nice to see you alert."

The feeling of sickness from his nightmare still haunted his mind. "Hi," Adrien said. He weakly turned his head to face whoever had entered.

It was a nurse. Clad in seafoam green scrubs, she was a younger woman—on the heavier side—with curly red hair and freckles to match. She approached him gently, and Adrien allowed her to check his vitals without a fuss. Her perfume had the faint scent of something floral, and her touch was soothing, even as she helped him sit up and removed the bandages around his chest and back.

He hissed, wincing as the cool air of the room came in contact with his flesh. He resisted the urge to look at the damage that had been done to his body. Adrien didn't want to see that—to see what had hit him when he couldn't save himself.

A medicinal ointment was applied to both the wound sites and the old bandages were replaced with fresh ones. Adrien sighed in relief as his muscles relaxed.

The nurse pulled the blankets back over his body. "How are you feeling, Adrien?" she asked.

Adrien swallowed. "I'm sore," he rasped. "And thirsty."

"I'll get you some water."

His nurse left the room, returning not more than a minute or two later and handing him a paper cup filled with cool, refreshing water. Adrien gulped it down gratefully.

It was quiet. Not awkward, but… Quiet.

"What happened to me?" Adrien found himself asking. He knew, but he wanted clarity. He wanted facts.

After a pause the nurse wrote something on the whiteboard that hung on the wall near the door and faced him with a gentle smile. "You were shot, hon. Bullet went in one end and out the other. Shattered a rib bone and fractured three of them. But you're okay now. Doing good. You're healing up well."

"Okay," was all he could say.

"You're one lucky kid," she said. "We're very happy to see you alert."

"Me too," he said.

"Do you need anything?" the nurse questioned, opening the curtains by the window—she must have noticed him looking outside. There was a motherly lilt to her tone as she asked, "Fresh blankets? Painkillers?"

Shaking his head, Adrien watched the city lights twinkle just out of reach. "No, thank you."

She bid him goodnight after that.

Adrien lay in silence. He wanted to move, to get up and go outside, but… All there was left to do was sleep.

But that sounded so boring. All he'd done these past few days was sleep his life away. He wanted to be out, racing through the misty rooftops of the city with his Lady by his side, grabbing a soda from the local corner store and downing it as they took a break to converse. He wanted to be next to her—to brush his gloved fingers along her own, to see her smile and laugh, and to hear her voice in his ears as she told him that she missed him and that everything was going to be fine while he recovered.

He couldn't, though. The hospital window didn't open, and he was stuck to the bed with an IV in his arm and a tube in his chest. No doubt the staff would become frantic upon finding him missing if he tried to escape. And though he knew the feeling of his transformation around his body would fill him with energy, he would still be too weak to run, much less jump across three meter gaps over alleyways.

If only he could call her—ease her nerves a little bit. No doubt Ladybug noticed him missing by now. If there had been any akuma attacks while he was out of it…

Adrien shook his head. He didn't want to think about it.

"Plagg?" he whispered, having just felt the tiny god's presence since he'd first woken. "There's no way I can leave, huh?"

The short fuzz of his kwami's fur grazed the side of his arm as Plagg poked his head out from underneath the blanket. His eyes, which were normally so bright and green with mirth, looked dull, and for the first time since he'd met him, Adrien could tell that his companion carried centuries of life on his shoulders.

"No," the kwami said. His voice was worn as his gaze fell. "You need to stay. Please. You're being taken care of here."

A sigh blew from Adrien's nose. "I just want Ladybug to know I'm okay."

Plagg opened his mouth to speak, but backtracked as his thoughts began to muddle. Silence formed a gap between them before he regarded Adrien with a stoic expression. His tail brushed against the sheets as his eyes flicked to the other side of the bed, voice cryptic as he said, "She knows."

"Yeah?" Adrien asked. Though Plagg's mannerisms were a bit strange, he breathed a sigh of relief, unsure of how that information had been delivered to her but happy nonetheless. "I'm glad to hear it."

With a twitch of his whiskers, Plagg flitted up to rest on top of his shoulder. His tail curled around his paws as he situated himself in a comfortable position and nuzzled the side of Adrien's neck, eyes drooping closed. "You're going to be just fine," Plagg said. "I promise, Adrien."

"I know," Adrien replied. He scratched the top of his kwami's head as the corners of his lips curled into a grin. "But I don't think I'm the one that needs to hear that, right?"

Plagg said nothing. Instead, he pressed his muzzle against his chosen's skin, tiny body quivering as a weakened purr rose from his throat. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to wake himself from an awful nightmare that had somehow formed into reality. Plagg looked so tired for such a small being—as if he held eons of weight in his heart, memories of previous Chat Noirs he'd seen live and perish in the past, and it became clear to him that not too long ago, Plagg had been preparing to lose one more.

Cupping the kwami into his hands, Adrien held him to his face. He pressed his cheek against the cat's forehead. "It's okay," he whispered, reassuring his friend. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?"

"Okay," was all Plagg could say.

There were marigolds on his bedside table.

Marigolds, roses, and gifts adorned the wooden surface, notes piling on top of brightly colored packages and balloons floating in the corner of the room near the window. A Ladybug plushie sat propped on the chair in the corner next to a giant stuffed cat, which held a heart in its paws that read: "Love mew!"

On the windowsill were folded blankets. Rays of sunlight filtered in through the glass, bathing the dull-colored hospital room in radiant warmth. A wheelchair waited patiently in the corner. As Adrien looked up, his vision a little bleary, he could see that the television was on, but it showed only static.

Weakly he reached a trembling hand for the remote. His head was still throbbing.

He couldn't muster the strength to grasp it.

Allowing his arm to fall flat against the cushion of his sheets, Adrien sighed, his eyes burning from overuse. He was still so tired, and he didn't even know why! All he'd been doing for the past—what, week?—was sleeping, and he was so, so done with lying around all day having people talk about him. He wanted to get up, stretch his legs, and- and…

He wanted to talk to someone to rid the lonely pit that had settled in the bottom of his stomach.

The scent of food passing by in the hallway drifted into his room. Breathing in, he caught the smell of something buttery and sweet, his stomach responding in kind to the tantalizing aroma.

It reminded him of Marinette.

Marinette… Madame Cheng had said something about her the other night. Whatever it was, he couldn't remember. His head was such a mess right now that even the slightest puzzling thought caused his skull to pound.

He reached for the remote again. It slipped out of his shaking hand and clattered on the floor, the wire it was attached to dangling off of the side of the bed.

"Damn it," Adrien said, a knot forming in his throat.

Everything sucked. He was about to give up and go back to sleep when the door to his room creaked open, and the blessed smell of pastries greeted him like a hug as three familiar faces stepped into his line of sight.

He felt Plagg nudge against his arm from underneath the blanket. It was a small comfort in his world of soreness.

"Adrien," Nino said, approaching his bed with a wide grin. "You're awake! Finally." His arms connected around Adrien's shoulders, who gasped as a sudden bolt of pain shot through his chest. "Ah, shit. I'm sorry, dude. I shouldn't have—"

Alya laughed behind her hand. She walked towards him with warmth in her gaze. "Nino, the guy just narrowly escaped death. Don't try to kill him so soon."

"I'm sorry!" Nino whimpered. "It's just the last time we saw him he was in ICU, and now he's awake and I—"

"Nino," Adrien breathed, his dry lips curling upward into a smile. "Oh, man, I'm so glad to see you guys, you have no idea."

His throat burned as he spoke, but he didn't care. He was just happy to see his friends again.

"And we're glad to see you breathing, sunshine," Alya said, hands on her hips as she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes scanned his body up and down, eyebrows furrowed in concern and red hair pulled back into a ponytail. "It's a relief. We all thought you were a goner that day. Why, if it hadn't been for Marinette—"

Nino nudged her in the side with his elbow. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she regarded him with an annoyed expression.

Marinette?

Someone else had said it, now. Marinette had saved him? How?

Mind full of fuzz, Adrien asked, "What about Marinette?"

The girl in question stepped out from behind the pair, feet shuffling on the tile floor and eyes glued on her shoes. Her black hair was loose from its hold rather than tied in her usual pigtails. She was quiet. Her eyes didn't meet his as Alya gave her a gentle nudge forward, encouraging her with a whisper Adrien couldn't hear.

Marinette approached him with a paper bag in her hands, the top of it wrinkled from how tightly it was held in her grasp. Its logo was familiar: two golden wheat leaves decorating the front of the bag with a matching T&S symbol in the center. The aroma of freshly baked something filled his nostrils, and as he lifted a shaking hand to open it, he was met with the overpowering scent of two chocolate croissants, his mouth watering at just the sight alone.

Was he allowed to eat this in the hospital?

Ah, who cares. It was from Marinette—he'd eat her parents' home-baked treats even if he were on his deathbed.

(Which… He essentially had been, right?)

"Thank you," he breathed, lips curling up into a smile so wide that his cheeks hurt. He looked up with the hope of meeting her gaze, but…

Marinette wasn't looking at him.

In fact she'd barely even acknowledged him. Her eyes were trained downcast on the floor, mouth sealed tightly shut as if she had nothing to say.

Adrien's heart sank. He tore his attention away from his friend.

Wounded from her cold behavior, he looked to Alya and Nino, who only glanced away. An awkward air hit the group like a truck—it was almost as if there was some sort of elephant in the room his friends refused to recognize.

"Did I... Miss something?" he asked. His voice shook as he spoke. "What's wrong?"

The room felt stiff.

Nino adjusted his hat as he regarded him with a confused raise of his brow. "You mean… You don't remember?"

Adrien swallowed. Raising a croissant to his lips, he shook his head. "Remember what?"

Silence washed over them like a bucket of iced water. Frustrated, Adrien bit into his snack with a scowl. He wasn't dead, damn it. Why did his best friends feel the need to keep a secret from him? If something went wrong, he wanted to know—even if it was devastating. If he'd lost the ability to walk, he wanted to know. If he was infected, or- or was to become a zombie, he wanted to know!

The truth would hurt less than his friends withholding important information from him, as if he needed any sort of protection… He was Chat Noir for crying out loud—he'd heard worse things.

Marinette spoke up. "He doesn't know," she whispered. Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment before she turned her head away, hands gripping at the bottom of her shirt and panicked gaze shooting to Alya. "Oh, my god. He doesn't remember! I thought for sure he would have—"

"Remember what?" he snapped. Marinette flinched. Remorse instantly set in as the words left his mouth, and he watched his friend wilt from his aggressive tone. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to her with a feeble hand as she backed away from his touch. "I didn't mean to yell at you, Marinette. I'm just really lost right now. What's going on? What don't I remember? Why won't anyone tell me anything?"

He shouldn't have been so cross with her. His crankiness from waking up in a hospital bed with confusion clouding his mind was no excuse to snap at her, especially when she'd been acting so drawn back. As Marinette shook her head and backed out of the room, however, he sighed, knowing full well that she hadn't deserved to be at the forefront of his frustration.

Jerking upward to race after her (despite the little strength that remained in his legs), Adrien yelped as the IV in his arm snagged at his skin and the tube protruding from his chest was jostled, his sudden movement causing a hiss to rise from his lips as a sharp pain seared in his insides. "Wait, Marinette!" he called, voice cracking. Nino rushed over to guide him back into his bed, Alya shaking her head right behind him.

"Dude, you have to stay here," Nino said. "What the heck are you thinking?"

"I don't care," Adrien responded. "Alya, please go after Marinette and tell her I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to yell at her. I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

Alya shushed him with a gentle press of her hands to his shoulders. Her tone was soft as she said, "It's okay, Adrien. She understands. Marinette's just… A little on edge right now, that's all."

A whine escaped his throat. "Why?"

Sharing a look, Alya and Nino sighed in unison.

"It's not really our place to tell you," Nino reasoned. "I would, but… That'd be unfair to 'Nette, you know? It's her business, not ours."

That was understandable. But still… Didn't mean Adrien wasn't aggravated with the whole situation. He'd just woken up sober for the second time in—what, a week or more?—and he was still out of the loop of the full story of what exactly had happened to him.

"I just want answers," Adrien mumbled. He chewed on his croissant bitterly.

Alya placed a hand on his bedside. "We know. But there are some answers that aren't our place to give you."

"Marinette just needs time," Nino said. He plopped down in the leather chair in the corner and sighed, adjusting his glasses and looking out the window, mind busy with muddled thoughts and emotions. "Look. What happened to you messed everyone up. We all thought you were dead. It was—" he had to pause to pinch the bridge of his nose as his voice started to crack, "—it was scary. You were fine one minute, up on stage and doing your model stuff that you do, and then all of a sudden there was a loud noise and we just…"

Nino shuddered. Alya approached him with a clouded gaze, her arm winding around his side as she consoled him. Clearing her throat, she continued, "You were shot on stage, Adrien. All of our classmates were there. We—we all saw it. Saw you. You just collapsed and there was so much blood and oh, god…"

Adrien felt sick. Stomach churning, the croissant tumbled down his chest and onto his lap, where his trembling hands picked it up and placed it back in the brown paper bag Marinette had gifted him just minutes before. His breath was coming in quick, short gasps, and he- he- he…

He couldn't believe it. Everyone—everyone had seen him get- get shot, on stage in public, and here he was still alive, in a hospital room with flowers and gifts and knowing well enough that the damn thing was probably being broadcasted on every news station in the city. Everyone he knew had seen him get shot. Everyone.

Including Alya, Nino and—

...Marinette.

Marinette had seen him get shot and he'd yelled at her.

Tears began to flood his vision. Sniffling at the congestion in his nostrils, Adrien placed the bag of pastries on the bedside table, his chest burning with the reminder that someone had shot him with the intent to kill. And yet here he was, conscious and breathing…

But he'd barely been.

If he'd been shot right in the chest, how had he survived…? His luck wasn't that good.

The only person with luck that prosperous was- was…

Was Ladybug.

Why did it feel weird to think about her…?

"Are you okay?" came Nino's voice, quietly concerned.

Adrien could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that question.

The back of his hand was wet as he wiped his eyes. He met the gaze of his friends as he said, "I want to apologize to Marinette."

The room felt thick. Sharing a look, Alya and Nino frowned, the pair regarding him with a pained expression—one that revealed that while they wanted him to speak with her as well, they both knew now wasn't the right time.

Adrien sighed. "Thank you both for visiting," he said. "But… Right now, I just need some time to think."

Taking the hint, his friends' expressions wilted with hurt for a passing moment before they nodded.

Alya wrapped him a light hug. "Okay, sunshine. You take all the time you need. We'll come back tomorrow if you want."

"Yeah," Nino said. He patted Adrien's hand. "We'll visit every day if you need, man. I know it probably gets lonely here. And, hey… If it's worth anything…"

"...We're proud of you," Alya finished. "You're stronger than anyone thought, Adrien. You're your own superhero."

His sight was watery as tears filled his vision once again. "I don't deserve friends like you guys."

"Oh, yes, you do," Nino said. "We'll see you again soon. Promise."

They waved as they left, shutting the door behind them.

He was alone again after that.

Three more days passed.

In two he would have been at the hospital for two weeks.

Adrien found out from Nino that he had gone through surgery to repair his shattered rib. He was in ICU for three days before he'd become lucid and had been relocated to a room on the eighth floor, where he was currently recovering.

It hurt to move around most of the time. Breathing wasn't a challenge, but it was painful.

He wasn't allowed to lie back. Due to the injuries to his ribs, he had to sit up straight all day and all night, though he was allowed to get up and walk around every once and a while to get the strength back in his muscles. For the most part, he stayed put in bed. However, even the slightest amount of movement caused a searing pain to clutch at his insides, and he wanted to avoid the discomfort in any way possible.

Unlike the tube and IV, the stitches in his chest and back would stay until his bullet wounds had healed. A nurse came in twice a day to help him with breathing exercises that were supposed to assist in the healing of his ribs.

Adrien didn't like to look at himself whenever he had the chance to. His skin was mottled with blue and yellow from the bruising, and the injuries were a nasty sight to behold. It was just unpleasant.

He sighed, eyes glued to the city that sat just outside his window. The sunrise was particularly pretty this morning. By the mist on the window he could tell the air outside was cool and that the fall season was nearly in full swing.

As he pulled his blanket up higher, Adrien wondered what time his friends were going to drop by. Before school? During lunch? Maybe sometime in the evening.?

It didn't matter to him. So long as he got to see their faces, he was happy.

Nino and Alya made sure they visited each day. They brought him gifts and food, fresh blankets, his favorite movies from home, as well as a few books and magazines to flip through in case he got too bored. They talked and joked and filled him in on what he was missing in school, going on about dramatic events Chloé had pulled or what Akuma had tried (and failed) to seize the Miraculous that day.

They hadn't once mentioned Chat Noir's disappearance.

No matter—Adrien was just glad to hear that Ladybug was doing alright on her own.

(But he'd never really had any doubts.)

Nino and Alya's daily presence was a welcome sight to his weary eyes. Marinette, well…

She hadn't visited again.

Adrien frowned. No use dwelling on thoughts that made him sad.

For the most part, Adrien was okay. He wasn't happy, but he was okay. Alive. Breathing. Bruised, broken, and injured, but fine.

He'd be fine.

The hospital had a garden.

It was charming. It adorned the outdoor terrace of the sixth floor, which overlooked his home city as it bathed in the warmth of autumn sunshine.

There was a fountain in the center while perfectly landscaped flower beds lined the hedges around the walls, which vines greedily climbed like they were poised on an invisible ladder. Various benches were situated around the display. A rose bush grew pleasantly along white lattice next to a magnolia tree, and as Adrien approached the outer walls, he was just tall enough to peek over the edge of their painted concrete surface.

The height was a familiar comfort to him. Clouds trailed lazily in the sky above him, which was so blue and bright, and as a cool breeze blew through his hair, he breathed in deeply, relishing the feeling of being outdoors for the first time in two weeks.

He was thankful that his friends had brought him a pair of personal pajamas from home so he could walk around without being embarrassed. That ugly open-backed hospital gown had really started to get on his nerves.

Adrien smiled. The atmosphere outside was calming. He felt like a cat in a patch of sunlight—so comfortable and full of warmth that he didn't ever want to go back indoors. No, not back to that same old bed and stupid TV that never played anything interesting with that thin hospital gown on… He wanted to be here, outdoors where the air was cool and he could taste the air of his city—his home—up on the rooftops where he belonged.

No more IVs in his arm or a clear tube in his chest, and certainly no more being woken up four or five times in the night to be checked on... Just clean, fresh air, outside of the hospital with no sterile walls to contain him.

"Adrien!"

Oh, great.

"There you are," said Nino, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He gave himself a moment to pause before approaching him with a hand connecting to his shoulder, using the other to fix his hat as it fell in his face. "Dude, you can't just go wandering off like that. You're hurt."

Adrien sighed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm fine," he said, giving his friend a reassuring smile. "See? I can stand up and walk around."

Exasperated, Nino fumbled to find his words. "B-but you didn't ask anyone if you could—"

"I don't want to be here anymore," he said, gazing wistfully at the Eiffel Tower which sat tauntingly in the distance. "I want to get out of that stuffy room and go out somewhere. I'm tired of being cooped up. You know I don't like being forced to stay indoors—"

"Oh, my god." Alya placed her hands on Adrien's shoulders as she approached him. "You idiot, what were you thinking?"

Adrien walked away from the pair, wincing as he sat at one of the benches. A hand instinctively connected to his back as pain burned at his skin. He rubbed at the soreness under his shirt lightly. "I was thinking that I couldn't stand to sit in that room anymore," he replied, swallowing the whimper that wanted to escape his lips. "With that freezing cold air conditioning. I'm happy out here. This is where I want to be."

Nino and Alya sighed in unison.

"We're just worried about you," Nino said. He sat next to him and removed his glasses, polishing a lens on his shirt before replacing them on his face. "I don't know how this stuff works. I've never known anyone who's been shot before. I mean, you were in ICU nearly two weeks ago and now you're up and walking around, it's… Weird. You're healing really fast."

"Was I hurt all that bad to begin with?" asked Adrien, though he knew the answer. "I mean, both my nurse and doctor told me that the bullet went right back out my body and didn't touch any organs, so…"

"But it got your bones," Alya added.

Adrien shrugged. "I'm okay. In pain, tired and a little out of it, but okay. I'll be going home in a few days, no doubt."

Both of his friends shared an uncomfortable glance.

"Well, if you're sure…" Nino said.

"I'm sure."

The sun was just beginning to set. Hints of gold began to paint the outer edges of clouds, and in the distance a soft gradient of pink was rising into the air. A flock of pigeons cooed as they soared above the terrace; Adrien envied their freedom.

He leaned into Nino's side and breathed out a sigh. With a comforting hand Nino rubbed his shoulder, careful not to touch him anywhere he'd been hurt.

"It'll be alright, Adrien," Alya said. She sat on Nino's other side, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at her injured friend. "Cheer up."

"I feel gross," Adrien said. "I want to brush my hair and take a proper shower and go home. I'm tired of being here with people breathing down my neck. I'm used to that in my normal life, I just wish I could go out as Ch—" he swallowed. "As myself."

Nino gave him a light hug with his one arm. "You will," he said. "You will."

The hospital staff retrieved him after that, gently reminding him that it wasn't advisable to walk off without informing anyone and led him back to his room where his nurse was waiting to administer his pain medication and to help him back into bed.

Nino and Alya's visit lasted through dinner. The hospital food was bland, as it had been throughout his entire stay, and as he sat up at the rolling side table, Adrien began to feel a familiar soreness creep up his spine. His two friends secretly stashed a bag of Marinette's pastries behind his pillow for later consumption and Adrien thanked them as they left, having to return to home since the hours were ticking by and it was starting to get late.

He hugged them each, though their contact was light due to his injuries. Lying back in bed after his plate had been cleared helped the discomfort ease.

It was late. Adrien could hear the murmur outside begin to die down. Pulling his blanket over his body, he felt Plagg press against his side just as the day's weariness caught up with him and caused his eyes to droop with the weight of exhaustion.

His thoughts were swimming, however, as it hit him with a bitter realization that a particular friend had been missing from his group's visit that afternoon.

Marinette hadn't come. Again.

And that was a thought that hurt him more than any other. Though he couldn't exactly place why, it was futile to ignore the way his heart ached in his chest.

A nap was welcome to his weary mind. He slept until the sun had long past set, waking with a dry mouth and groggy thoughts before he forced himself out of bed for a cup of water and to use the toilet. Adrien's body twinged with pain and his thoughts buzzed with depressing reminders that he felt defeated.

It didn't feel good to sit and be weak without a means to escape. He felt sad—anxious—with the desire to run out to the garden and transform burning at his gut. Adrien had never gone so long without transforming before…

The need to feel the wind whipping at his sides was almost nauseating. He wanted to get up, to run around and jump and swing from roof to roof with Ladybug by his side and his worries long forgotten, the shadow of his partner enveloping his own as she swung across the skyline at the grace of her yo-yo...

He didn't want to be here anymore. It sucked.

Adrien knew he wasn't some feeble kid who needed constant rest. He was strong enough to go out for just ten minutes, right?

Yeah. Ten minutes as Chat was all he needed.

"Hey, Plagg," he whispered to his pillow. "You wanna—?"

"Adrien?"

He yelped.

Throwing himself back against his bed, Adrien froze, gazing doe-eyed at the thin figure in the doorway. Her silhouette was a bit skewed from the lights of the hall, but as she shut the door behind herself and approached his bedside, Adrien sighed in relief at the sight of Marinette.

Well. Alright. Better late than never.

"H-hey," he breathed, swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat. He wasn't sure why he was feeling awkward in her presence, but the anxiety nagging at his gut refused to leave him in peace. With a brief glance to the clock, he asked, "What are you doing here? It's…" he squinted at the time, "...past midnight."

Marinette rolled on the balls of her feet. "I know," she said.

"Visiting hours are over."

"I know."

Puzzled, Adrien sat up, hissing as he hovered a hand over his torso. "How… How did you get in here?"

"Th-that's not important," Marinette said, effectively dismissing his question. She rubbed at her arm, eyes rising from the floor to meet his own. "How are you feeling?"

After looking her up and down, Adrien said, "You're in pajamas."

Marinette's cheeks reddened as she pulled on her sleep shirt self consciously. "I know." Clasping her hands behind her back, she said, "You, um, didn't answer my question."

"Oh." He pointed to the entrance wound on his chest. "I'm okay. Still kind of in pain."

She stepped forward to sit with him, but hesitated as he regarded her with a confused raise of his brow, instead opting to place herself on the leather chair adjacent to his bed with her legs crossed atop the cushion. "Sorry," she said, voice quiet—as if she was embarrassed that she had even thought to sit by his side.

Adrien felt his stomach burn with irritation. Not at Marinette, no, never—but at himself.

"No, it's okay," he said. He scoot over with a pat on the mattress in invitation. "You can sit."

With a clearing of her throat, Marinette stayed put. "Are you healing up well?"

Oof. The awkward air in this room was so thick that it almost hard to breathe.

Adrien glanced toward the spot he'd been expecting his friend to occupy and nodded. His hair, which was shaggy due to its recently unkempt nature, swayed in front of his eyes as he moved. He combed his bangs out of his face with a quick brush of his hand. "Yeah, I'm… I'm okay. The wound doesn't look as gross as it did a few days ago. So I think that's a plus, though it was kind of weird having a hole in my body. I felt like a doughnut."

He chuckled at that last part, but Marinette was quiet. Really quiet...

"Are you… Okay?" he asked. She wasn't looking at him. "You seem off."

Marinette simply shook her head and presented him with a faux smile. "You don't know what really happened that day, do you?"

His grin immediately fell. Throat becoming dry, Adrien swallowed. "...No." His voice was raspy as he asked, "What really happened, then?"

She opened her mouth to speak. A sound came out, something small and tired, but then she shut her lips and frowned, her blue eyes (which were normally full of light and joy and laughter) dulling like a gray cloud pregnant with rain.

And that's when he was able to get a decent look at her.

Her sclera was reddened around the edges as if she'd been crying for hours (perhaps even days) on end. The bags that hung underneath her eyes were heavy, and her skin—the skin that always looked so soft and clear—was pale. Marinette appeared small, thin like a victim who'd witnessed a gruesome event, and it was… Strange to see her looking such a way when Adrien knew her as the girl who wore confidence with pride, whose hair shone like starlight and whose demeanor was strong, positive, and self-assured.

Marinette looked broken.

And that—that was a painful sight to see.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, hurriedly removing herself from the chair and wrapping her arms around her body. "I should go. You need your rest and I—"

She was almost out the door.

Please, please don't leave, Adrien begged internally, watching as his friend curled her fingers around the handle, his heart leaping into his throat and stomach bubbling uncomfortably from the words that were lost in its pit.

"W-wait, Mari," he pleaded, forcing his weakened legs to carry him to her side, where he grasped her delicate hand within his own and squeezed it tight. "Please. You don't have to go. Just… Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

With her back turned to him, she was silent. The room was still. A shudder rose up Adrien's spine.

A snivel broke through the ice of silence, Marinette's shoulders trembling as tears began to drip from her cheeks and onto the tile floor. She whimpered, her hand slipping from its grasp on the door handle and body curling in on itself as she cried, her quiet weeping escalating into heavy sobs by the time Adrien had enveloped her in his arms.

He gripped her with every ounce of strength he had left. Her tears leaked through the cotton fabric of his pajamas, but Adrien didn't care. Marinette needed him. Marinette was crying—desperately crying—and her happiness was the most important factor. Rubbing a hand up and down her back, he ignored the pain he felt at the contact to his chest and whispered reassuring words against her fringe as his cheek rested on the top of her head.

"It's okay," he told her—he promised. "It's alright. Everything is going to be okay now. I'm safe, see? I'm alive."

Marinette's voice shook. "But you weren't."

Not pausing his ministrations, Adrien frowned, tightening their embrace. "I know I wasn't safe, but I am now, right? I'm—"

"No, Adrien," she said. "You were dying. I-If I hadn't swooped in a-and—"

She was getting hysterical. Whatever had happened that day didn't matter at the moment—all Marinette needed right now was to be held and comforted, and damn it, that's what Adrien was going to do.

He might have been physically injured, but Marinette had some deep internal wounds that needed healing.

Adrien held her tight in his hold even as he led her to sit on the bed by his side. "Hey," he soothed, voice gentle and calm. "Hey. It's okay… It's alright, Marinette. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You've got me."

"I've got you," she said, voice cracked from the exhaustion of her tears, which had faded from wracking sobs to a gentle, dejected whimper. "Y-Yeah. I do."

He said nothing after that.

Marinette appeared to have no intentions of leaving that night. Though they weren't speaking, they hadn't separated their contact. At some point they'd moved to lie back on the mattress. Adrien wasn't exactly sure how they'd managed that—and he also didn't recall how he'd ended up with an arm snaked around his friend's waist, whose head had apparently found a perfect pillow on his left shoulder.

It was quiet for a while. The white noise of the TV in the background filled the otherwise stagnant air, and the muffled voices outside the door slipped out of his mind as exhaustion weighed down his eyes.

He'd nearly fallen asleep when Marinette murmured, "I'm sorry I've been acting weird."

Adrien's eyelids groggily lifted. "It's okay," he said, voice thick with sleep. He went to meet her gaze, but she wasn't looking at him. "I mean, if I'd witnessed anything like you did, I wouldn't be doing so good either."

Her eyes shifted to him. She looked so tired… Why wasn't she sleeping?

"I… I want to tell you what really happened," she said. "But I—I can't. Not now, at least."

Adrien cocked his head to the side. "Why are you afraid? I can handle it. Hey, if I can live through being shot in the chest, then I—"

"Stop making jokes about it," Marinette said curtly. "It's not funny, Adrien. And I'm not afraid, it's just… It's a lot. I know something I shouldn't know and it's only made me more worried about you. And I know you can take care of yourself but it still… I still want to make sure you're okay."

….Know something I don't?

His brain was beginning to wrack with what he hoped she hadn't figured out, because it was near impossible she could have… Though, he had no recollection of what had happened to him when he'd been shot, so it wasn't entirely implausible…

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Marinette shook her head. A small smile graced her lips. "I think you need to focus on getting better first before I tell you anything. And I should probably get going... Let you rest. I can always come back tomorrow."

She shuffled her position and made to get up, but Adrien felt something painful pull at his heart at the thought of her departure. With a shake of his head he placed a hand over her own, trailing her fingers as she brushed her palm over the sheets. He said nothing—made no move to force her. But he knew what he wanted, and he knew what she needed.

The look in his eyes was all it took to convince her. She was back by his side in an instant, and within minutes they had crawled underneath the covers and simply held each other—the best they could with his fractured ribs, anyway—and that was all that mattered in the world.

Adrien was drawn to her. He always had been.

No, he didn't have any explanation as to why… But he didn't care. Marinette was warm and he felt safe.

For the first time in two weeks, Adrien felt content.

It didn't take long for her to doze off.

The TV played in the background. Adrien watched with little interest, mostly using it as a distraction to help ease him into sleep, but just as his eyes began to finally fall to a state of peace he heard his name.

The voice wasn't coming from outside. No—the television that hung innocently in the corner of the wall was the culprit, its blue lights flashing like lightning in the dull room.

He watched the screen.

Within two seconds he wished he hadn't.

There it was, the footage of his shooting. A clip an innocent bystander had filmed was displayed on the channel, most likely having been recording to catch a glimpse of himself as he strolled down the runway in one of his father's signature designs, and then—

Bam.

Screams of terror erupted in the audience. The news station cut out the gruesome footage, as this was old news by now, probably only being covered as overnight filler—but it still caused a sinking, sickly feeling to begin to pool within his gut.

He'd intended to look away. He had.

But he saw Marinette on the screen.

A clip showed her bursting through the audience, her face stark white and eyes flooded with tears of horror as she rushed to his side and lifted him in her arms. There was blood on her clothes—his blood—staining the white of her T-shirt until she uttered two words that were deafened by the panic of the crowd, yet the movement of her lips was unmistakable.

"Spots on."

And then Ladybug was standing in her place, carrying him off over the crowd and into the distance before the video cut to black.

#adrinette #adrienette #ladynoir #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug fanfic #chat noir #ladybug #fanfic #adrien x marinette #lovesquare #love square #mlfanfic #mlfanfiction #my writing #my writings

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doctor-spencer-ried · 5 years

Text

Just a Crush (IV)

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Hanahaki Disease AU

Summary: You end up making a great discovery that pushes the case forward. Or at least, you think it will.

Warning: blood, illness

Masterlist ~ Part 4 (Word count: 1671)

A/N: My knowledge of behavioral analysis is limited to this show and my Forensic class, so there may be holes and incorrect analysis.

~~~

Sleep will help. You’ll get some sleep and then wake up ready to work. No problem. That’s all you need. It’s just a cough after all.

It’s not. You were wrong, so wrong.

You hands shake as you wipe at your lips, your chin, your cheeks. It doesn’t help, just smears the crimson across your pale skin. With labored breath, you look down towards the hotel sink. Blood drips down the white porcelain. Your blood. It pools in the basin.

Among the blood lies something that makes fear tingle through your heart. A single, delicate white rose petal. Its pure color is stained with that goresome crimson.

It was never supposed to happen to you. You've heard of the cases. It’s not rare, but also not common. You barely know anything about it, but you know it’s bad. Fatal.

It’s called Hanahaki Disease.

You shakily step out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Your entire body aches, your mind struggling to wrap around what is happening. Your legs give out from under you once you reach the bed. With a groan, you drag yourself to the middle of the mattress and curl up, arms wrapping around your stomach.

Anxiety overcomes you as your thoughts run rampant. What if you get fired? They could force you to leave the BAU until you get the issue under control. How do you even do that? You remember there’s some kind of surgery to cure it, but the repercussions were lengthy. You hadn’t bothered to read them.

You rub your eyes harshly, trying to banish the thoughts. You would rather focus on the cause.

Hanahaki disease, an illness caused by unrequited love.

You can’t brush it aside as a tiny crush now it seems. You almost want to laugh at the bitter fate life has planned for you. You pushed it aside every time, always dismissed the emotions that swelled in your heart at the sight of him.

Now you have to face it. It’s useless denying it.

You’re in love with Doctor Spencer Reid.

And he doesn’t love you back.

---

It’s the next day when the team comes to visit you. You cleaned the bathroom, getting rid of the evidence of your sickness, and did some research on it late into the night. A poor choice really, considering it made the dark circles under your eyes more prominent. Your really getting sick of the concerned looks they earn you, though.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital, (l/n)?” Hotch asks from the foot of your bed, looking ticked, but yet again, that’s how he always looks.

“Because I’m fine,” you insist for the billionth time, blatantly lying through your teeth, “It was just all the fumes and stuff.”

“You had a panic attack, (y/n).” Forget you Morgan.

“Forgive me if the scene was a bit graphic for my tired mind,” you bite out sarcastically.

“I’m taking you off the case until you’re better.”

“What? No!” You protest, shooting up in your bed, “I’m the one who started the profile and research on this case! I’m not dropping it because of a little cough!”

You know you shouldn’t question him, but even the heat of Hotch’s glare can’t make you back down. There’s no way on earth you're letting him take you off the case.

“(Y/n), just listen to him, you need to get better,” Emily tries to reason with you.

“No,” you’re stubbornness flares up, “We’re close to getting this guy, I can feel it!” Your turn to Hotch, “I swear I’m feeling fine! Whatever was bugging me is gone, it won’t get in the way of work again. Please Hotch, I’ll take a sick break when we finish or something.”

Your begging seems to work because Hotch lets out an exasperated sigh. A small grin of victory forms on your lips.

“Fine.” He budges. “But you need to take the rest of today off and recover. You can come back tomorrow.”

“Thank you!” You resist the urge to fist pump the air.

Hotch shakes his head with a fond smile, “Come on, let’s go and let her rest.”

As they’re about to leave you call out for Emily to wait a moment. Something has been nagging at you the past few minutes, like an itch of awareness that scratches at your lungs.

“Where’s Spencer?” You had noticed as soon as they entered that the young doctor was absent.

She raises an eyebrow at you, lips pursed before she replies, “He’s talking to the first victims’ parents. He thought it might be possible that the unsub has a connection to his first victims.”

You nod your head. Of course Spencer would think of that. The first victims may have been old friends of his and they could have been his stressor.

“He and J.J. went there an hour or so before we came here.”

He’s with JJ? Something bitter rises in your throat as you lean back against the headboard. Of course he would be. He’s always around her. Of course he chose to go do that instead of visit you.

“Thanks Em, see you tomorrow.” Your words come off distant, but she seems to get that you want to be alone now.

After wishing you a good day, she leaves. The room falls into silence.

You sigh and close your eyes. The other day you thought you had a moment. You felt so close to him and you thought he may have, for just a smidge of a moment, felt the same. But you guess not. He'll never see you like that. He’ll only ever see you as a little girl, a little sister, who cannot take care of herself and needs constant protection.

It takes a moment to realize that a tear has made its way down your cheek. You wipe at it hastily.

Blinking away the remaining moisture in your eyes, you make up your mind that you need to get out of this small room. You need fresh air to clear the fog from your lungs. Forget resting. You need to breathe and this room is suffocating.

After grabbing your bag, you quickly make your way down the stairs and out of the hotel. You barely register where you are going, too focused on the crisp evening wind that hits you. It helps erase the thoughts that plagued you moments before. Your feet lead you down the sidewalk aimlessly, which doesn’t concern you in the least. Sometimes it’s nice to just walk without a destination in mind.

---

You take a moment to stare at the building in front of you. Why would you come here of all places? What part of your subconscious thought it would be funny to lead you here?

The greenery from the third set of murders stands in front of you, shimmering glass and all. It sits almost peacefully among the trees and brush. You know there is nothing peaceful about it though. Days ago it was filled with screams and cries of agony and fear.

With a deep breath, you take the remaining steps to the smashed door. You might as well take another look since your here. Hotch is going to kill you, but you really can’t seem to care at this point.

You open the door and slip inside.

The light is softer here, filtered through the green panes of glass that make up the cylindrical building. You bask in the warmth of the room for a moment before you begin walking between the isles. Each is filled with flowers, exploding from the pots and filling the room with color.

You used to love flowers. Their grace and beauty always enamored you as a child. You remember how you used to prance around with a flower crown on your head and a giant smile plastered on your face. It seems cruel that that part of you could be stripped away by this sickness.

Your steps slow when you reach the back room. It’s only a small moment of hesitation though. You step in, holding you breath as your eyes flicker to the blood stained floor. Flashes of the lastest scene flicker through your head. You force them away. You need to keep a clear mind if you’re going to look for something new. Last time you were razor focused on the chairs, the door, the drag marks. You didn’t bother to look around the rest of the room and perhaps the police made the same mistake. There has to be something else here.

The room seems simple, organized. The unsub probably didn’t touch anything if he didn’t find it necessary. In fact, he seems to have kept the chairs as far away from the wall of young flowers as he could. Strange.

You run a finger along a wilting petal of one of the flowers. The other plants all seem healthy, as if they've been watered, likely by the granddaughter, but these are dying. She probably can’t stand coming back here.

You shake your head. Not pertinent to the case.

Your eyes lazily trace over all the shelves to look for something, anything you could have missed before. It seems hopeless. Everything is absolutely normal. That is, until your eyes trail along the bottom shelf and catch a glimpse of something...different.

You immediately drop to your knees, hands shuffling to shove the small pots aside. It’s buried between them near the back of the shelf, but impossible to miss if you look.

A single, white tulip with wilting petals rests on the wooden shelf. Your fingers tremble as you pick it up and bring it closer to your face.

Blood.

Speckles and splotches of blood coat the pure petals of the flower. You lean back on your feet, excitement rushing through you.

Finally! You finally have a piece of evidence that can lead you to the unsub! It all makes sense now, why he killed them.

The grin on your face slowly fades the more you think about it.

He has hanahaki disease. Just like you.

He’s suffering. Just like you.

He’s devolving because he’s dying.

….Just like you.

Part 5

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan

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mad-madam-m · 5 years

Note

How do you see next season of Tiger & Bunny? What do you think should happen?

OH MAN LET’S TALK BECAUSE I HAVE IDEAS, OKAY.

A friend of mine did ask me about this before and I had a whole long response to it (all of which still applies, BTW), but hey, you gave me half a chance to talk about this show so I’m gonna take it.

This got SUPER long, which I feel isn’t too surprising because I crammed in literally everything I could think of that I want to happen and I’m sure I’m still missing things.

But yes, God, talk to me about what you want from the next season of this show because I could go on for literal HOURS about it. Possibly days. I have a problem.

Series spoilers below, fairly be ye warned!

Seriously, the thing I want to see more than almost anything else is dealing more with the fact that Barnaby had his memories manipulated for twenty years and there is a non-zero chance that he may know more about Ouroboros than even he knows. Like I am 100% dead serious, I have been thinking about this for months, lemme tell you about it.

So this is after The Rising, so probably what, 2-3 years since the end of the series? And my headcanon has always been that the longer Maverick is dead, the more his powers start to fade, so anybody who had their memories altered that hasn’t already broken the block is starting to get back the memories of what really happened.

And whose memories did Maverick fuck with the most? Barnaby’s!

And who was Maverick working with for 20-30 years before he died? Ouroboros! *jazz hands*

Let’s say Maverick was having a meeting with people from Ouroboros in his house a couple of years after he took bb!Barnaby in and bb!Barnaby walks in and overhears some of their plans. No big deal, Maverick just wipes his memory and puts him upstairs in bed, and assures everybody else that the kid won’t remember a thing and they’re all good to go.

Now, decades later, Ouroboros is moving one of their people into a political position, like they’re running for mayor or governor or they’ve been named the new chief of police. Doesn’t matter. And one of them—could be a fixer-type figure, could be the person actually being moved into the position of power, again, doesn’t matter—finds out these memory manipulations are fading and that people are remembering things they shouldn’t remember.

And the person who is moving into the position of power is one of the people who was at that Ouroboros meeting with Maverick that Barnaby walked in on all those years ago. So they realize that if Maverick’s power is fading, they have a Big Problem because the McFucking King of Heroes and Media Darling, Barnaby Brooks Jr., knows about their involvement in this organization and if he reveals that, they’re kind of screwed.

So they’ve got someone low-key keeping an eye on Barnaby to see if he is remembering anything, and they find out yes, he is. Probably something like remembering a birthday dinner that he thought Maverick took him out for when he was young but it turns out it was Aunt Samantha. And so Ouroboros realizes it’s only a matter of time before he remembers them and they set out to fix this.

And by “fix” I mean “blow up Barnaby’s apartment with him in it.”

So the heroes are sent to the site of the explosion to help evacuate other people from the apartment building while the fire department is trying to control the fire, and Kotetsu knows when he hears the address that that’s Bunny’s building, but it’s not until Agnes tells him privately that he finds out the bomb was actually in Bunny’s apartment and Bunny hasn’t been responding to his communicator.

He handles this news slightly better than Barnaby would have if their positions were reversed, but not by much.

They get to the building, Kotetsu goes after Bunny and finds him unconscious and buried under rubble in his apartment, but he’s alive. He gets him out of the building and down to an ambulance and is torn between going with Bunny (because it’s Bunny) and staying to help out the others (because he’s a hero and he’s supposed to be helping people right now).

And of course all of his friends yell at him to go with his partner, to trust them, they’ve got this; besides, Barnaby is going to need him.

So Barnaby wakes up in the hospital twelve hours later to see Kotetsu passed the fuck out in one of those hospital chairs in what looks like the most uncomfortable position ever. And then he wakes up and he’s like BUNNY! and scrambles upright and they do That Look, you know the one, the soft goddamn “I miss you/I love you” look they have:

(I literally can’t even with this show, I can’t. THESE WEREN’T EVEN MY ONLY OPTIONS FOR SCREENSHOTS.)

ANYWAY the other heroes are also there by this time, Barnaby tells them all what he remembers about the apartment exploding and they figure out that someone probably wants Barnaby dead, although they have no idea who and why. And initially Barnaby’s like “I’ll just get a hotel room,” Kotetsu is like “NO. You should not be staying alone right now. You should be staying with one of us until we figure out who’s trying to kill you.”

And Barnaby thinks about it for 2.5 seconds and goes “Then I guess I can stay with you.”

And that’s how Barnaby ends up moving in with Kotetsu because if this damn show gave me accidental baby acquisition, amnesia, single dad, enemies to lovers, and breakup/makeup (TWICE), then by God, they can give me roommates and forced bed sharing.

(Does Kotetsu go back to the exploded apartment and rescue everything that he can that he knows is important to Barnaby? Of fucking course he does, which is how Barnaby ends up with a box containing the Christmas tree pin, the picture of his parents, the robot toy, and the singed stuffed rabbit.)

So the entire big storyline is Kotetsu, Barnaby, and the other heroes trying to figure out who wants Barnaby dead and why, while Ouroboros is moving forward with their own plans without the heroes�� knowledge.

And throughout all this, Barnaby and Kotetsu are trying to figure out how to live with each other in Kotetsu’s little apartment, when Barnaby’s never had a roommate and it’s been close to 10 years since Kotetsu was sharing his space with anybody (let alone someone who’s as compulsively clean as Barnaby is), and Barnaby is dealing with random memories resurfacing at inconvenient times.

I still have not decided if I want Kotetsu’s powers to start fading again, because on the one hand fuck no, but on the other hand, it does make for some delicious angst and pushes him back to that question of “what do I do if I lose my powers completely?” (And who knows, maybe this time around he would actually talk to Barnaby about it instead of hiding it for months on end.)

OTHER THINGS the series would include, if I had anything to say about it:

- A Rock Bison episode, which would also involve flashbacks to high school with how Kotetsu and Antonio met, plus teenage Tomoe and some more very unsubtle parallels between her and Barnaby and how Kotetsu has A Type.

- A Sky High episode with A HAPPY ENDING YOU ASSHOLES, GIVE KEITH A ROMANTIC PARTNER AND 50 DOGS *slams fists on table*

- Kotetsu dealing with the fact that Kaede is a teenager now (probably 14-15, depending on timeline), who’s probably learning how to drive and is looking seriously at what she wants to do when she finishes high school. Probably at least one somewhat heart-wrenching conversation between him and his mom where she talks about how it felt for her when Kotetsu was that age and possibly a little bit about his father. (Give me some more goddamn Kaburagi family feels, okay, Sunrise, just fuck me up with them.)

- A subplot that is Barnaby and the other heroes doing their level best to get Kotetsu enough points to be King of Heroes at the end of the season, without Kotetsu or Agnes figuring out what they’re doing.

- Kotetsu going to the orphanage with Barnaby and helping out with the kids there.

- KOTETSU BIRTHDAY EPISODE. Please please give me an episode that’s the reverse of episode 5, where it’s Barnaby low-key freaking out over what to get Kotetsu for a gift because it has to be perfect and he’s got nothing.

- I literally just finished reading Sakakibara’s manga last night, so maybe an episode or a mini-arc dealing with some of the anti-NEXT sentiment. We got some of that in the first series, but it would be interesting to see it brought out a little bit more and seeing the heroes having to deal more with that (and maybe some non-hero NEXTs as well).

- A flashback episode showing how all the main heroes became heroes.

- Kotetsu and Barnaby cooking fried rice together please I am begging.

- Barnaby going with Kotetsu to Oriental Town to visit his family when they’ve got a few days off (or maybe they’re told to get out of town for a few days because of all the Ouroboros stuff), with Barnaby learning more about Tomoe and being quietly supportive of Kotetsu the way that Kotetsu has always been supportive of him.

- I would love to see more of Barnaby and Kaede interacting because I really think they would get along swimmingly.

- A girls’ night out/guys’ night out episode split between Fire Emblem, Dragon Kid, Barnaby, and Blue Rose and Origami Cyclone, Sky High, Rock Bison, and Kotetsu. (Conversely, this could happen while Barnaby and Kotetsu are out of town, and just focus on the other heroes, but I would really like to see Barnaby being friends and doing stuff with the others, not just Kotetsu.)

- I don’t know how everything would shake out, but it would end with Barnaby just…staying in Kotetsu’s apartment rather than moving back out, his picture of his parents joining the row of photos Kotetsu has on his shelves, and them drinking champagne together on the front steps of the apartment building, side-by-side.

- Okay I mean obviously my shipper heart wants it to end with a kiss and a marriage proposal but I feel like the previous point is more likely.

Seriously I just want everything from this series. Throw the kitchen sink at me, Sunrise, my body is ready.

#banikrim #M answers #Tiger & Bunny #Tiger and Bunny #M writes not!fic #kind of #good lord that got long #I'm sorry #HOPE YOU EXPECTED A DISSERTATION IN RESPONSE TO THAT ASK

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flyswhumpcenter · 6 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

This story was written to respond to a request made by @antimondes (for some reason it won’t tag you, thank you Tumblr for being a dysfunctional piece of shit)! It was a very wild ride (waaaaaay too wild) and it has 75% chances to be out of character shit, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless! It was still very fun to experiment with Tenn for the first time. I hope you don’t mind me setting it in my Takanashi Residence AU!

Bitter Words and Sour Tears

Summary: The tensions between Tamaki and Tenn expended to the entire Takanashi Residence, taking their toll on siblings and their links between them. Iori just happens to be there with an outside view, and as a man of secrets.

Fandom: IDOLiSH7 Ship: Iori/Tenn (can be read as platonic)

Wordcount: 2K words

Event organized by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

They had always been kind of distant, even they were linked through Riku Nanase, before that one event. It was more of a professional relationship in a way: it was a mutual, doubtful respect. They didn’t trust each other very much: while they knew the other wouldn’t try to harm them, it still felt like a chore to be around each other.

The thing was: Kujou was Nanase’s twin brother. As soon as they found each other again after a few years of outside shenanigans, including Kujou getting adopted by another family and becoming an idol, he had come to the residence much more frequently.

To be fair, Iori was always overly suspicious of visitors coming to the residence, especially if they came around this often. The perks of being part of such a tight-knit colocation was that everybody knew everybody, including the related strangers. How many times had he seen Yotsuba’s little sister too? Apparently, she lived with the Kujous too.

After a while, however, he had come to appreciate these two siblings coming over to the residence, despite the tension between Kujou and Yotsuba over Aya. He always felt like he needed to be near them in case a fight exploded between the two of them, knowing Yotsuba’s impulsive nature and Kujou’s dry and cold demeanour around anyone who wasn’t his twin brother.

Watching Tenn Kujou be around Nanase was a way to make him empathize even more with his own big brother. Through the pink eyes of the professional singer, he could see Mitsuki’s instincts: the concern, the empathy, the thoughts and the speaking patterns of the older sibling. It was almost a social commentary from him, at times: he stood there, nearby, ears wide opened and eyes looking at the scene.

As far as he knew, Kujou had thought for the longest time that Mitsuki was the younger brother and Iori was the older brother, a common misconception solely based on height. However, as soon as Mitsuki spoke about hom, Kujou had seemed to instantly understand he was facing someone with a deep common point with him. Ever since, he had noticed somewhat of a vitriolic complicity, a rivalry in who was the best big brother. Kind of childish, but it proved Kujou wasn’t just a very advanced android Nanase was calling his brother.

After a couple months of seeing the weekly visits from the siblings, Iori threw his own shot at getting to know them. The topic he had in mind to come up to Kujou with was as obvious as it could possibly get: as the residence’s unofficial medical help (who was officially Nanase, but if Nanase got an attack, he couldn’t really help anyone else with their health couldn’t he?), he wanted some advice on how to monitor Nanase’s asthma better. Who else was better than the latter’s own brother to ask on the topic?

Kujou stared at him until he dropped the question. Upon that point, the older twin seemed to barely be able to retain the actual kindness he had for his sibling: he would explain in great details how to deal with every single symptom the best way possible, how to make his younger twin more comfortable when these happened, how to tell if an attack was about to happen, how to make the residence better for Nanase…

And then it delved into an impossibly long list of things the residence was faulty at being and providing, including the amount of house dust and how the room placements made it so Nanase’s room was too far from the entrance door in case he had to go to the hospital in a hurry. It was long enough for Iori himself, the man called “the Nit-pick Guy” by his classmates, to think it was nit-picking.

Talking about Kujou was fascinating. The latter was always rich in information despite his career of being a J-pop singer with legions of fangirls at his feet. He’d usually say the residence was a good place to avoid paparazzi and obnoxious, voyeur journalists. Not only was it where his little brother was living surrounded by his friends: it was also fairly unknown and drown in the urban landscape, making it a place where people starving for private information would never even try finding said information in.

They sympathized over Nanase in general, how he was a ray of sunshine with heavy health issues which needed to be cared for, but it didn’t stop there. Speaking to the other revealed they weren’t that different: a similar frank speech style, an unordinary amount of talents and skills and, last but not least, a will to help and protect the people they cared about. This was the most relatable part they could find in each other, the click that made Iori think “we could be more than acquaintances”.

Alas, the tranquillity of these visits stopped dead in its tracks on one fateful day. It all started with the tensions around Aya: Yotsuba and Kujou disagreed heavily on whether she should have been allowed to visit her brother on her own or if she had to be accompanied by Kujou. The other inhabitants of the residence didn’t dare stepping in, fearing it would backfire on them.

It escalated to Yotsuba throwing a violent fit, a fit only stopped by Aya telling her brother not to hit her other brother. In the end, it got broken off by Osaka and Nikaido, but it had been a close call. Ever since, Yotstuba and Kujou had been forbidden to be near each other unless someone was next to them.

This was, however, only the beginning of a snowball effect: people were always weary whenever the Kujous visited because of this incident. Even Mitsuki had grown somewhat distant, just in case it’d be considered taking sides to remain with one or the other when Kujou was around.

Only Nanase didn’t mind, always happy to see his brother visit him, but the visits also became rarer and rarer as a result of the growing tensions. Once a week became once every two weeks, which in turn became once a month. This was obviously saddening Nanase and Yotsuba, but as far as Iori knew, it also had taken a toll on the visitors.

He was reading a report for college when someone knocked at his door. He had been a bit unaware of his surroundings because of his approaching exams, so the noise slightly took him aback. In fact, he had been so surprised, he had gotten up to open the door instead of just saying “yes” to this unknown visitor. He could beneficiate from a break anyway.

His surprised turned astonishment when he opened the door to Tenn Kujou’s saddened frown, shining eyes and arms wrapped around himself.

“Mind if I come in, Izumi…?”

Concern washing all over him, Iori replied with his heart.

“Not at all. Please come in”, he gestured as he closed the door behind them.

Almost like a robot, Kujou sat down on the bed, looking down on the ground. It was kind of an awkward silence between the two of them: Iori didn’t really know what to say, since he didn’t know what had caused Kujou to seem so depressed. So, huh… He’d just have to pop the uncomfortable question.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat down on the bed, around ten centimetres away from him.

There was no response for a few, lead-heavy moments. Just silence and the beginning of a weep.

“Do you… mind me venting for a bit…? I don’t want to burden Riku with this… you’re the closest second option I have right now…”

“Go ahead. I’ll keep it a secret if you want it to be so.”

Kujou slightly rose his head, but not high enough for his bang not to hide half of his face.

“I may have strained Yotsuba and Aya’s relationship because of my tense links with him…”

Iori didn’t say anything back. He just listened like he’d listen to Mitsuki venting, to Nanase’s thoughts and to Takanashi’s ideas for the residence, with a wise ear open for suggestions and reassuring words to be told.

“I’m only noticing now how much this has impacted Riku and Aya. I should have thought everything out more before the situation got this way…”

Kujou sniffed slightly before resuming.

“I’m aware this got out of hand because I couldn’t control myself around Yotsuba. It’s all my fault if I have to see Aya so afraid to ask me if we can go see her brother and if Riku is so sad whenever I visit. It’s become bittersweet for everyone involved… I’m sorry.”

Despite how calm his words and speech were, Iori could notice the ugly tears rearing their face in Kujou’s eyes. He was this close to crying.

“Until I find a way to fix everything with Yotsuba, it’ll stay that way… Don’t tell anyone, Izumi, it’ll just make things worse because Riku and Aya will start themselves himself too…”

“I did say I was going to keep this secret if you wanted.”

“Thank you for listening… You… are a man of confidence…”

The singer’s cold and aloof demeanour suddenly broke down as he started to let his sorrow come out, crying between his hands, weeping filling the room with a damp atmosphere, as if rain had started to fall against the windows.

Kind of unable to do much, Iori immediately thought back to what his brother would do whenever he was sad. It was going to be awkward, but he leaned closer to Kujou and opened his arms, slowly wrapping them around the other man in the room.

Instead of the rejection he expected, Kujou threw himself in his arms, almost trying lean against his chest, as he let himself express the concerns and guilt he must had had accumulated for the past weeks. This was going to stay in this room until the truth was ready to come out, so he remained silent.

Time seemed to have slowed down by half during this time. It was all silent, but he felt the strange and unfamiliar warmth of someone crying in his chest. It wasn’t what he had expected to see Kujou doing today, perhaps he was expecting nothing more than being the recipient of all the defaults of the residence again, but he didn’t mind. If it meant helping someone out, especially someone who seemed dear to a fellow resident and friend, he would serve as a shelter for a day.

Kujou was crying silently, even if he could tell so by how damp his shirt had become. The older boy was barely letting anything out, yet it was painfully clear how hurt he was by everything he thought was his fault. In this silence, all he could hope for was for the situation to get better.

After what felt like minutes, Kujou rose his head again, eyes red and trails on his face. He slowly got out of the improvised embrace, cheeks reddened by what seemed to be both crying and embarrassment of the sudden turn of events. To be fair, Iori was embarrassed too by how bad his instincts were. Perhaps not the best potential big brother around.

“Izumi… You’re an analytical genius, right?” he then asked.

“I am. Why so?”

“What do you think the best course of action is?”

“Find a way to peacefully patch things up with Yotsuba. This will ease tensions between you two.”

“That’s what I thought… Thank you for listening. How much do I owe you?”

“An apology to Yotsuba. I’ll try to get him to understand it’ll only be better if he makes an effort in return.”

“Got it.”

Kujou got up from the bed and silently exited the room, closing the door behind him again. He had taken back his stance as a singer: perhaps he was already thinking on his apology.

No matter what, feeling useful and comforting for someone was nice.

#bad things happen bingo #i7 #izumi iori #kujou ten #iotenn #tennio #whatever that ship's smushed name is how do I know that #angst #no injury even wtf #tears #i guess #woops #cry into chest #a very wonky fic written by an awkward individual #au: takanashi residence #bthb 1

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bambyeol · 7 years

Text

Downpour final part

pairing/s: park jihoon x oc, (ft. park woojin) genre : angst, drama, hanahaki disease

Hanahaki Disease: the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for the other also disappear.

FINAL PART so I beg you please to read the previous parts (if you still haven’t) before proceeding or else you wouldn’t feel the feels as much (｡╯︵╰｡) and just so everything would make sense (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Also, apparently there were some texts that could not be seen in mobile view so I re-edited the final part. Sorry for the inconvenience TT_TT

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 //

masterlist for other fanfics

Park Jihoon, at the age of 19 lost his dream

The car crash injured his body severely that he wouldn’t be able to dance like before, so he was advised to stop aiming to become an idol. He listened to the doctor with an understanding smile and quit his agency after.

A few months later when the deadlines for the universities were closing in, he submitted a form filled neatly with college courses. He wanted to take Film, he explained to Riseul. It was the closest that he’ll ever get in the industry, and he’ll just devote all his love to dancing there.

At the age of 19, Riseul learned of real heartbreak.

It was seeing her best friend pick up the broken pieces of his life with the hopes of piecing it all back, but seeing him fail miserably despite his smile. Just as Jihoon had perfect timing, so did Riseul. Always. It was her who found Jihoon, 2 in the morning slumped in the park crying, cursing the world as to why it was him. It was her who promised Jihoon that she’ll carry on his dream and dedicate her first song to him. It was her who sang to him when things just got too tough for a young man to handle. It was her who picked up all the broken pieces even if it badly pierced and wounded her soul.

Because she believed that it was her fault, and that this was her own form of love.

That night, there was a sudden downpour and they ran to seek shelter. She looked at him carefully, and began piecing the melody of their first meeting.

“You still sing that song?” he asked while looking at the rain. “You complimented me back then in elementary. You helped me complete the lyrics back in middle school and you were with me when they held the audition for the agency. You held my hand when it was shaking so bad that I cannot even hold the microphone... Honestly, it’s my favorite song,” so she continued humming, even if the song was dwindled by the rain.

(please loop this video before you begin reading the next parts because I don’t know if one run can suffice for the next parts)

youtube

“This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart”

The heart monitor beeped, and Riseul regained her sense of touch. It was cold in the room, and when she opened her eyes everything was white. The room was white. The bed was white, and even her skin managed to transform to pale white. Ah, so she was hospitalized.

Beside her was Woojin sleeping soundly. She ruffled his hair and was immediately filled with comfort. She really does love Woojin - that she understood. But Park Jihoon was a storm and a spell of destruction.

And now, she’s captured. “You’re awake,” Woojin held her hand and kissed it while smiling softly. “It’s okay,” “I love you,” Riseul managed to say softly even if it just sounded like a gust of the wind because of the softness and hoarseness of her voice. Woojin nodded knowingly. “I know. You wouldn’t have avoided me trying to hide everything if you didn’t. I’ll call Jihoon,” but she firmly touched his hand and shook her head. Woojin looked at her for a second, and patted her head. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Jihoon, please. I explained it to him already,”

“About?”

“Everything. About the accident and everything he has forgotten,”

“Oh.” her hands tensed and Woojin rubbed her knuckles trying to ease the tension.

“That day, you said that the blame was yours to take, but I need to take some of it from you. I knew about Jihoon’s condition, you know. He told me that he liked you, but we were dating so he took a step back, and honestly, it relieved me because if he wanted to take you away... he could. The two of you always had a bond and shared a connection like no other...”

No matter how her whole body ached and how everything seemed like blurring away, Woojin’s words were crystal clear. “I knew this was going to happen anyway, but now I’m wishing that this day happened when he got crashed by a car , so I wouldn’t see you like this now.” he smiled sadly and slowly she felt his hold loosening. “It’s okay. I love you. Always. Just as I know that you will always love me. I’m just... I’ve reached the end of my time with you? And the time I stole from Jihoon, I’m going to return it now,” and he kissed her forehead, and placed their foreheads together, their breathing matching and heartbeats beating as one... for the last time.

He let go of her and turned away to call Jihoon.

Jihoon stepped in, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it was awkward. Her heart felt like it would explode any minute. She didn’t know what to say, or what to even think about.

“That didn’t count back then,” Jihoon began his gaze directed at her, and it unnerved her.

“What?”

“I don’t remember it. Even now, despite all the explanations. Nothing is coming back. So, it doesn’t count. The me back then wasn’t in love with you,”

She stared at him, dazed. She knew Jihoon always had a thinking that weren’t normal at times. He was always finding loopholes in every argument, but for him to be like that now.. She didn’t know what to do.

“I’m telling you that you have a chance at me,”

“That’s not how things work,”

“Well, that’s what I’m telling my body. It doesn’t count,”

She scratched her head trying to deal with Jihoon. The flowers were there again, and having memorized the taste of them, it didn’t bother her anymore. It tasted like metal that was being melted and slowly burns her throat.

“The doctor said that you have one week until you’ll be undergoing the surgery. “

She noticed that he was once again wearing the pink sweater with daisies. She wanted to punch how insensitive he was that it felt like he was mocking her. Apart from the fact that he just seemed so bright at that moment.

“I hate your sweater,” she weakly told him. He smiled.

“I love you, too,”

“3 years ago, you were in accident remember?” Woojin started. Jihoon nodded, unsure of where everything was heading. One, Woojin called him telling him that Riseul was rushed to the hospital but he didn’t want to answer why.

They were by the hallway just outside of Riseul’s room, but Woojin strongly urged him not to enter.

“Is that all you can remember?” Jihoon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course,”

“You don’t remember that you had the Hanahaki?” Jihoon had the most confused look ever. He knew about the Hanahaki, but it was outrageous to think that he had been afflicted with the disease. He crossed his arms, “No, I mean everyone acted like the accident was all. So I don’t see why I had the Hanahaki,” irritation was visible in his voice.

He wanted to see Riseul and ask how she was. He didn’t have time for some reminiscing of the past.

He remembered that day when they were at the cafe. Riseul excused herself to proceed to the bathroom and returned looking very pale before immediately asking to go home. He wanted to see her off, but she dismissed him immediately. Jihoon wondered if he did something wrong so he took a step back, and cut their communication before returning to text her about his successful date. “Back then, you lost consciousness because of the Hanahaki. It was bad luck that a car was coming through and hit you,” Woojin replied calmly. Jihoon didn’t like seeing Woojin calm because whenever he did, Jihoon was reminded of how immature he was and how Riseul and Woojin were perfect for each other.

“And, that night, you were struggling to live. The Hanahaki made everything complicated, and the doctors needed to remove it from you, but your mother didn’t want to. All because you weren’t able to confess your feelings,”

“To whom?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” Woojin looked with disbelief. “You loved Riseul,”

Jihoon sat on the bench trying to register everything in, but he shook his head in denial.

“That night, it was Riseul who pushed for the operation. Your mother wanted to know if there was a chance that she liked you, but she didn’t… at that time because we were dating… she said she’ll take the blame for this. For 3 years, she lived with the guilt that she took away everything from you even your dream you know,”

“And now, I don’t know, Jihoon. I want you to save her. She has the Hanahaki. She likes you. She loves you so bad that I can’t save her. If you can’t save her heart, I’m begging you to save her voice. God damn it,” Woojin punched the wall in anger and grief and left to enter the room of Riseul where Jihoon caught a glimpse of her looking more tired than ever.

“You’re still here?” Riseul asked weakly. The visiting hours were almost over.

Jihoon nodded, “I’ve got 7 days to be with you, I’m not wasting it. I’ve already lost 3 years,”

“I’m sorry,” she said and rested her hand on Jihoon’s hair. He didn’t like his hair to be touched, but now she was freely ruffling it and patting it. “I took it away. Your dream and your feelings without even hearing it from you,”

“You did,” and he looked at her with a smile that sent all flowers to multiply inside her chest. She didn’t know how she managed to not even throw up. “That’s why listen to me now,”

“I’m listening,”

“It doesn’t count. Believe me. I’m falling for you little by little now,”

“Park Jihoon is a liar. You told me that I wouldn’t have bad dreams when I slept in your bed,”

“I did. Must be because I wanted to hug you and comfort you deep inside,”

“You’re seriously wooing me at a hospital?”

“Not necessarily, I already have your love, remember? I’m just asking you to give me back my feelings for you.... so stop blaming yourself about the past,”

“I’ve been telling that to myself for 3 years, you know that maybe I didn’t do anything wrong, but it doesn’t work,” she smiled sadly and lifted her hands and rested it on her stomach.

“If there’s one good thing that came out of that car crash, you know what? It would be the fact that I forgot about the Hanahaki. Technically, I didn’t have it which means that the emotions are all still here,” Jihoon pointed to his chest. “The human mind works wonders, and so I’ll save you just as you always do to me,” “You’re betting so much,”

“I guess even back then... Maybe I’ve been saving it up all for now. I discovered another dream within me, and in exchange I’m being given a chance now.. It wasn’t such a bad deal after all,”

If there was something Park Jihoon was good at, it was convincing people.

“Convince me,” Riseul told him, and he nodded before he left because visiting hours were over.

It has been the third day since she was admitted to the hospital. The flowers were still there, and she had lost all fear looking at them. She even pressed one to become a bookmark. It was such a pretty flower, and she patted her back.

She knew her aesthetics.

“What’s that?” Jihoon entered the room. He was visiting her religiously, and though he often came with Woojin, today, he was alone.

“Windflowers,” she replied with a soft smile.

“There’s a garden inside you now?” he joked and she punched his arm. “I’m quite the botanist, I say,” she retorted but felt tired soon after. Jihoon was busy fumbling through his phone and she closed her eyes.

“It has a nice meaning. Luck, protection and arrival of spring,” and her cheeks flushed. Blush is the only thing that gives her pale face a color now.

“What was my flower for you?” he asked innocently.

“Alstroemeria. It means holding your friends close and showing how you cherish them. Chase your dreams and don’t give up on them,”

“Fits you,” he replied softly.

It hurt a little.

Holding your friends close.

Nothing would change. Why was she hoping, again?

Her breath hitched and she clenched her shirt, and pinched her chest. Jihoon held her and rested her head on his chest. It was beating so loud that it silenced her own heart.

He felt warm to touch and didn’t want to let go so she rested her head there. Soon, he began humming their old tune. Perhaps that was their very first connection that led to them forging many more.

“You know, it’s okay. If you forget about me,”

Her eyes widened, and tears started.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated and repeated until her voice was dry, and blood drip from her mouth.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m sure. We’ll still stay together. That’s why... Don’t be scared, okay? I’ll be there.”

She nodded and cried for hours while Jihoon rubbed her back and repeatedly saying it was okay.

Last four days...

Park Jihoon knew of the girl who went by the name of Bae Riseul. She was a shy girl who had a hard time communicating her feelings to others. But often, he’d catch a glimpse of her humming something.

Park Woojin was the first to get to know her. She has a nice smile. Soon, they became closer, but he knew that she liked Woojin better. Often, he wondered how he could be like Woojin.

But one day, he saw her singing, and he got so mesmerized that he watched until the end. He knew she had a talent in singing, but he always brushed them off because he knew she didn’t like to be invaded in her own space. But now, he wanted to enter that space.

“I like your voice. What song is that? Teach me?”

And he liked the comfortable space he shared with Riseul which was why it didn’t matter if she liked Woojin. It was something they shared. Only the two of them.

It wasn’t until Park Jihoon was 18 that he wanted to be more, and he hated himself for it because it meant that it would shift the balance of their friendship, so he took a step back, but the further he stepped back, the more his feelings grew.

And one day, he woke up, with flowers laying beside him.

At age 19, Park Jihoon had an accident, but he remembered that he wanted to tell Riseul something... though he didn’t know what exactly. That’s why he felt so happy when he saw Riseul by the doorway.

“Riseul !” he called out happily unsure why.

At age 21, there was a fear inside Jihoon that he couldn’t understand. It awakens whenever he saw Riseul. The fear dissipated when Riseul broke up with Woojin. And he hated himself for it.

So he tried to blind date. It worked well, honestly. He felt slight attraction to the girl, but it stopped when he received a call from Woojin saying that Riseul was rushed to the hospital. It felt like his whole world stopped.

He wanted to see her immediately, he didn’t know why.

It was midnight of day 6, and Riseul was talking to Jihoon over the phone. She asked him to sing her something, so he sang the song that the two of them composed.

(please watch the video and read the lyrics because it fits so well with Downpour that I just had to do this)

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She slept right after, and dreamed that everything was okay.

The next day, Jihoon held her hand tightly.

“Jihoon?” he nodded.

“I love you,” he was about to mouth off something but she hushed him.

“Save that when I tell you I love you again,” she smiled and patted his head before he leaned for a quick kiss on her forehead.

”See you later,” he said and watched her fall into slumber as they injected the anesthesia.

This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart

“Are we late?” a man asked Riseul.

“In 30 minutes or so,” she replied, and they held their hands together.

“You’re the best man, huh. Don’t break down in there, alright?” she teased as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re also going to give your message, you know. And who was it who always cried whenever we were having chick flick marathons?” she rolled her eyes. They entered the church. They weren’t late, and over the distance Daewhi waved his hand motioning for them to come and sit. Jinyoung was there too beside him and she smiled because the two finally ended up together.

The ceremony was soon over and she was called over to give her message, and sing a song to the couple. Before she stood up, she leaned over to whisper something to his ear.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he looked at her confused, but she just smiled before proceeding to the stage.

“Before I begin, I want to say that I’m offering this song for the couple of the night, but at the same time, I would sing this song for him,” and she pointed to a surprised man.

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Fin.

Authors notes: This has been one heck of a ride for me, from the first day that I began conceptualizing for this to the day I managed to finish writing it. I hope that I was able to provide everyone a wonderful story and hope that I managed to make some of you cry, but most of all I hope that I was able to deliver a good ending for this story.

I wish to hear your feedback regarding the story, but the fact that you read this alone is enough (≧◡≦) ♡

Thank you for all your support ^O^ . It overwhelmed me when I saw notifications specially since this is the first time I did this. I’m still confused about many things in Tumblr, but I’m working it out as I’m preparing to write more stories and sharing them all with you.

Please look forward to my next works, and here’s a sneak peek of another angsty (?) fic I’m working on titled :The Constants of Constellation

Every person has their constellation tattoo found on their wrist which glows when they have found their fated person... Bae Riseul does not have a constellation on her wrist, but instead has a compass that helps lead others to their fated one hence her nickname of “The Guide” , but her life is thrown into a total disarray when she met Park Jihoon, an enigma, given that he too has no constellation on his wrist and the only person whose Riseul’s compass does not work on..

I hope you’ll continue to support me. Once again, thank you so much for reading Downpour. (≧◡≦) ♡ ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)

masterlist for other fanfics

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