#again. never saw proof of ANY of this. you all take every little accusation at face value and dont have the critical thinking skills | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jbreenr · 3 years

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have.

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request.

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were.

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence.

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse.

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen.

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone.

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through.

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen…

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to.

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing.

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours.

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then.

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him.

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud.

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears.

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention.

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer.

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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Hey hey I saw your Armin like erens S/o and that made have feels😡😡 so now please...give more angst- Like Eren finding out Armin likes reader and decide s to talk please 😩😩✌️

You asked for angst so...i went the whole way there.

I think this can technically count as my first Eren x reader fic but i don't think I'll list it as an Eren's fic. He still ain't getting his own subcategory.

You're dating Eren, he finds out Armin likes you.

{ Armin x reader, Eren x reader | tw:cheating accusation, tw:arguments, tw:unhealthy-frienships, tw:lowkey-toxic, tw:bad relationship, tw:angst without comfort | heavy angst, no comfort, drama | modern }

{ "Calais Pier" 1801 by Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851 }

Laying on the couch, Eren was scrolling through his phone while occasionally taking bites of the chips he digged out of Armin's kitchen. His finger stopped just as he reached a certain post from Historia

"Ymir's birthday is this Wednesday?" He said, glancing to where Armin was sitting on the Armchair.

Still typing on his laptop "yeah" Armin said, eyes focused on the screen.

"Huh...didn't take her for a birthday party kind of person" turning off his phone, Eren headed towards the nearby kitchen.

"Historia's the one planning it." Looking at the half full bag of chips Eren left, he frowned, "aren't you going? Also why do you keep eating my chips when you don't like the taste."

"Already went to Mikasa's birthday 4 days ago, and because I forget how bad they taste each time." Closing the fridge, Eren went to look through the cupboards instead. "Why do you have so much fruits in your fridge?"

The sound of typing slowed down, "that's the thing about birthdays Eren, each person gets their own day." Soon the typing stopped as he began proof reading his email, "my grandpa sends them to me."

Coming back to the living room empty handed, Eren sat back on his spot. "Either way, I have a date with y/n on that day"

"Oh" Looking away, Armin couldn't focus on the words on his screen anymore. "I hope you two have fun."

"We will." Eren said, staring at him for a second before looking away too.

Finally finishing his work, Armin set the laptop aside. "i just think it'd be nice to hang out more."

"hang out?"

"yeah like we don't see each other as much as we used to, a birthday is a nice excuse to hang out."

Staring directly at him, Eren crossed his arms. "uh huh, and just hang out?

Scratching the back of his neck, Armin met his gaze. "...well what else is there?"

The silence lasted seconds too long, an uncomfortable feeling growing slowly between them. It was Eren who broke it first "nothing, just... nevermind."

Not satisfied with the asnwer, Armin moved to sit next to his bestfriend on the couch, attempting a form of comfort. "Eren are...are you okay, you've been acting pretty...uh strange lately."

Resting his cheek on his hand, "what do you mean?" Eren said.

"You've been...distante lately, not spending as much time with us and being late or canceling last minute whenever we agree to meet up." Armin tried touching the other's shoulder, only to let go when Eren stiffened up.

His reply was so quiet, Armin wouldn't have heard if he wasn't sitting as close. "you're one to talk."

"what?" Armin tilted his head, wondering if he misheard something.

"I'm just saying, isn't it hypocrisy to criticise me for something you're already doing?" With narrowed eyes, Eren doubled down.

"I'm not criticising you, I'm just concerned for you."

"when's the last time you visited Armin? My mom has been asking why you suddenly stopped showing"

Feeling like something's stuck in his throat, Armin swallowed. "...I've been busy, work has been piling up and-"

Getting up from the coach to stare down at his friend, Eren didn't let him finish talking before saying. "yeah don't give me that work bullshit, I know for a fact it's just excuses. It never bothered you before so why now, it's like you've been lying to get out of things ever since…"

Fist grabbing in the pillow near him, Armin just stared up at Eren, the feeling in his throat intensifying.

Stepping closer, Eren was almost towering over the other while standing up. "Ever since y/n and I started dating."

"What are you talking about" Not wanting to face him, Armin stared at his feet instead.

"you know exactly what I'm talking about" Eren said, jaw clenched, "Jean told me everything."

That seemed to get Armin to meet his gaze "Jean?"

"yeah, of all people. Why did I have to know about this from someone else?" Putting space between them, Eren looked away in disgust, "all the letters, late night calls, good morning texts, gifts... I'm not stupid"

"believe me you've got it wrong" desperation in his voice, Armin was struggling to stay calm, "whatever Jean told you it's probably things Mikasa didn't know how to explain well-"

"Mikasa ? I didn't hear it from her." Interrupting him again, Eren seemed to be growing more agitated by the second.

Looking lost, Armin said "what? But I only told-"

"did she know about this too? And still kept it from me?" running his hand through his hair, Eren took another step back.

Standing up, Armin took a few steps towards him. "I asked her to, she was just trying to help."

Just looking at him made Eren's blood boil. "helping you with what Armin? Sleeping with y/n behind my back? Yeah what a real good friend she is." Not wasting any time in cutting the distance between them, "Keeping the fact y/n has been cheating on me with my best friend." He said in Armin's face.

"That never happened! Mikasa would never do that and you know that." Not backing away, Armin stood still.

"Mikasa would never, but I'm not stupid enough to believe you wouldn't do it Armin." Pressing his lips into a thin line, for a second Eren looked more hurt than angry, "I thought we were best friends, were you ever going to tell me?"

Attempting to touch his shoulder again, Armin said. "do you really think I would do that to you? Do you really think y/n would do that to you? Is this how little you think of me?

Only to be pushed away again.

"I don't know what to believe anymore" putting back the space between them, "I didn't want to believe Jean till I've seen proof with my own eyes. You're lying. "

Hands tightening into fists, "if you'd just calm down and listen then maybe-" Armin stayed near the couch.

Getting impatient, Eren said. "No. Don't-" only to be interrupted by a pillow thrown next to his head.

"You think y/n would cheat on you with ME? Really Eren? You think y/n would choose me over you? In what world would that happen, we both know i have no chance." Struggling to hold back his tears, Armin felt all his frustration pouring out.

Seemingly unimpressed with the other's outburst, Eren just scoffed. "There you go again with that self pity! I Don’t want any of your pathetic excuses, all you do is whine."

"Yeah? And all you do is get angry and yell." Shaking his head, before continuing, "that's why Mikasa didn't tell you, she knew you'd act exactly like this."

"I have every fucking right to be angry-"

"stop pushing everyone away, you're acting like a selfish self centred child throwing a tantrum." Interrupting him again, Armin didn't look away this time, "You just want to pick a fight without listening to what I have to say.

Attempting to lick his lips, Armin tasted saltiness, only realising then his tears have been pouring for a while.

Not wasting the chance, Eren pushed even more. "I'm the child ? At least I'm not the fucking crybaby in here. Remember Armin? When you grandpa-"

His eyes were burning again, throat aching in shame. "Don't- please don't bring it up."

"why? What are you going to do about it? Are you going to cry even more?"

His vision getting too blurry to see, Armin wiped his face with his hands. "now you're just being-"

"I don't care about your opinion on how I'm being, no one asked for it." Whatever guilt Eren might have felt he pushed away, "You didn't seem to care about mine before going to fuck the person I'm dating-"

"I DIDN'T, WHY CAN'T YOU BELIEVE ME." Having used all his remaining energy to yell that, Armin sat back in defeat on the couch feeling too overwhelmed.

Eren stared him down as he collected himself, waiting for an explanation to follow as he leaned back against the wall.

After a minute, Armin began talking again. "yes I wrote y/n peoms and letters, yes i called really late at night and yes I looked at them in a not so innocent way, but I've never ever done anything inappropriate."

Eren stayed silent, only looking at him in an unreadable expression.

"Yes I liked y/n while knowing you're dating , and i fucking wished they'd like me back. Yes i have feelings for them but y/n did nothing to betray your trust neither did i cross any lines. "

"...how long have you been bottling this up."

Hesitante to answer, Armin couldn't meet the other's eyes anymore. "Before you started dating...even before you met actually. I've been planning to confess to them but...it was too late. I take full responsibility for this I'm really-"

Finally seeming to calm down, Eren moved from where he was standing. "I don't want your apology. So y/n didn't cheat on me?"

Shaking his head, Armin replied. "No...it's just me."

Another full minute of silence passed before Eren grabbed his Jacket from the couch, his phone too. "would...you've told me if y/n did it?"

Armin look at him, confused. "What?"

"Cheating on me, from your speech you seemed to be hoping for it to happen." Walking to the door, he began putting his shoes back on.

Armin didn't know how to reply, he just sat there.

"can you deny it? Can you say you've never hoped for y/n to leave me for you?"

He was speechless, Armin couldn't even attempt to form an answer.

"that's what i thought, what kind of freind are you? You act like you're the bigger person yet you were just waiting for me and y/n to break up for your own selfish desires" Opening the door, Eren stepped outside, "And instead of talking about it you just try to avoid me forever? That's your genius plan Armin?"

Having followed him at the last second, Armin was standing next to the doorway." I didn't know what else to do, i couldn't just watch you and y/n from afar knowing i could've had that! It was torture!"

"real mature, attempting to steal the person your best friend's dating"

"Steal? You're the one who got between us in the first place. Since day one you've done nothing but hog y/n at every chance you got."

Getting up in his personal space, Eren said. "If you had a problem with it then why the fuck didn't you speak up Armin?"

Why didn't he speak up? That's something he's been asking himself every night before falling asleep. "I wanted to, I just-"

"just what? Be honest for once in your life, no one forced you to stay silent, you chose to." Eren looked at him.

Did he? Every action you don't change is something you're choosing...Armin couldn't even look at him.

But instead of waiting for him like every time, Eren just stepped back, slammed the door shut before walking away.

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grimmswan · 2 years

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Devious Delights part 2

Backseat of Stolen Car:

Lieutenant Killian Jones and Thief Emma Swan continue to have sex all over Storybrooke.

Captain Swan AU

For part onehttps://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/672281529288916992/devious-delights

He saw her again a few days later. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the beautiful blonde he couldn’t stop thinking about drove right by him once again in a car that was definitely not hers.

Killian swore she looked even more beautiful than she had the last time he saw her.

He followed her until they had gotten off the road and near some large boulders on the rocky beach. There was no one who lived around for miles, and no one who would visit so late at night, meaning the Lieutenant and the thief would have plenty of privacy.

“Emma.” Killian greeted her when they got out of their vehicles.

“Lieutenant Jones, how nice to see you, again.”

“Killian will do.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “After what you did to me last time we met, I should think we would be on a first name basis.”

Emma laughed. “Well, I seem to recall we were both actively participating.”

“And I seem to recall you suggesting we could have a repeat performance the next time we met.”

Emma smirked at him. “Why do you think I took the car with the biggest back seat?”

It was a cold night, so she had also taken into account that they would need the heat. Luckily, the luxury vehicle had plenty of features that would ensure her and the Lieutenant had a great time.

She opened the door to the back seats, climbed in and reached between the front seats to the controls.

First she adjusted the front seats until they were all of the way forward, then Emma turned up the heat as high as it could go. With any luck, the gas and the battery would be completely drained by the time she was done with officer Jones.

With Emma’s jean clad backside on full display as she fiddled with the car's dials, Killian found himself transfixed in awe. His mind went completely blank and all he could do was stare at the lovely display.

Emma looked over her shoulder and giggled at the officer with his mouth hanging open, just looking at her ass.

“You know you’re allowed to do more than look.”

She pulled him into the car and locked the doors.

They reached for one another, lips meeting and hands exploring.

“That’s better.” She sighed against his lips before pressing them together again.

Killian agreed. He’d been yearning to touch Emma again. Hoping for an opportunity to be with her, again.

He couldn’t care less that they were in a stolen car.

Perhaps that’s what made it more exhilarating, especially with the fact that it was Gold’s car.

Killian had never liked the man. Had always thought he was a greedy cowardly whiny little imp.

Gold was always calling the sheriff station for the most minute irritations or suspicions. On more than one occasion, he had demanded an officer go to his home because he suspected someone was defacing his property. Gold had accused the children of his neighbors, and even the adult neighbors themselves, and had demanded the officers arrest and question all of them. When an officer told him there was no proof and they couldn’t arrest anyone based on suspicion, and that maybe he should install security cameras on his property if he suspected people were out to get him.

Gold had waved his cane and threatened to have every single officer fired for incompetence.

It never stopped him from constantly calling them though.

So the chance to screw over Gold while fucking a beautiful woman was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Emma pushed his jacket from his shoulders. “The heat’s on. So you can get fully naked this time.”

“Just as long as you get fully naked too, love.” Killian insisted.

“As I recall, I got fully naked last time. It was you who forgot to take his pants off.”

“As I recall, I was hardly in the state of mind to think about anything but the beautiful lass who had just had her soft lips around my cock.”

Emma trailed her hand down his chest. Instead of a black sweater, he was wearing a gray Henley with all of the buttons undone, allowing a nice view. ”Fair enough. I promise not to distract you from getting naked this time.”

Killian slipped his hands underneath Emma’s shirt, to discover she had nothing underneath.

“I didn’t want to risk destroying another set of underwear.” Emma giggled.

“And what if it was someone else who would have found you like this.” Killian growled, unable to hide his jealousy.

“I wouldn’t have stolen a car if it was someone else’s night to patrol.” Emma said seductively, trailing her fingers along his stubbled jaw.

Killian took claim of her lips, while his hands explored her silky soft skin.

He cupped her breasts, kneading the mounds, rubbing his thumb over her nipples and tasting the sweet little moans that elicited from her.

Emma’s hands were doing their own exploring.

When she reached for Killian’s belt, he stopped her.

“Not this time, love. It’s my turn to have a taste.”

After a bit of shuffling and some maneuvering, her pants were off.

It was a snug fit, but Killian was able to kneel on the floor and feast on Emma’s center.

Killian gripped firmly on her hips as he buried his face into her heat. Emma gripped and pulled Killian’s hair fiercely as he lashed her little bud and made her a quivering mess.

“Even the man’s tongue is talented.” She thought to herself as the first wave of pleasure washed over her.

“Please tell me you replaced the condom in your wallet.” Emma begged. “I need your cock in me now.”

“Aye love, and I added a couple of extra.”

“I knew you were a boy scout.” Emma giggled.

“Trust me love, I’m no boy. And I’ll make sure you fully understand that.”

Emma already fully understood that. She remembered just how much of a man Killian Jones was. And she was looking forward to experiencing how much of a man he was again.

He climbed back on the seat, got the rest of his clothes off, then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Emma tried to pluck out the condom, but he once again stopped her.

“As good as it felt to have your hands on me last time, love, I don’t trust my control and would like to ensure your complete satisfaction.”

It had bothered him that he had fallen asleep, allowing her the chance to sneak away from him. He had no desire for a repeat set of events.

Her hands slid over him as he slid his body over her, aligning his aching cock to her eager pussy.

Simultaneous moans escaped them, their lips brushing on each other’s faces as they fully joined.

“I’ve been needing this.” Emma whimpered.

“Aye, love, me too.”

Their movements were slow at first, allowing her to get adjusted to him, but soon she was encouraging him to take more.

She nibbled on his earlobe and whispered, “Come one, I want you to claim me.”

Killian positioned her legs over his shoulders, nearly folding her in half, and began to thrust more forcefully into her.

Emma panted heavily, she could feel the tension build. That coil inside her grew tighter and tighter until she cried out in sheer bliss. But Killian was far from done, he simply let her legs fall to the sides, flipped her over and began to pound into her from that angle. Emma dug her nails into the seat, pushing back to meet his every thrust. The feel of his length stretching her walls from this new angle was exhilarating.

“Fuck, you’re bigger like this.” Emma moaned. Though Killian could barely make out the words she was saying. The bloodrush deafened him to everything.

It was good. It was so bloody good. Killian wrapped his arms around Emma and thrust savagely into her. Burying his face into her neck as he found his release.

Sated, they rested there a moment, allowing their bodies to calm, though their hold on one another remained firm.

A growing chill told them that the heat was no longer in effect. The silence told them that the engine had stopped running.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and redressed.

“There’s going to be a lot of questions about what happened in this car. Gold is a rich man, he’s going to insist on a forensics lab going over everything with a microscope.”

“Too bad anything they find will be contaminated and useless.”

Emma went to the trunk and took out a gallon of bleach.

“Just like you, I like to be prepared.” She said as she poured it all over the interior of the car.

“Allow me to give you a lift home, love?”

“Oh, so you’re going to be a gentleman now?”

“I’m always a gentleman. And I’d hate for you to be seen anywhere near this car.”

Emma getting caught meant Killian would no longer be able to be with her, and that was not a chance he was willing to take.

She gave him her address and he recognized it as being a boarding house for single women. It was owned by a Mrs. Lucas, who everyone called Granny, and who also owned the most popular diner in town.

“I’d invite you in for a coffee, but Granny has a no men after midnight rule.”

“That’s alright, love. I need to get back to my patrol anyway. And in an hour, call in finding Gold’s car abandoned and vandalized.”

The two shared a grin, then Emma gave Killian a peck on the lips, and said, bounding out of the vehicle, “Until next time, Jones.”

He watched her until she was inside the building, waiting just a few minutes after that to ensure there was no disturbance, then returned to driving through the town, making sure he didn’t repass through the area where Gold’s car sat until the very end of his route.

part 3https://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/676138499819356160/devious-delights

@teamhook @everything-person @mie779 @kmomof4 @beckettj @snowbellewells @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @winterbaby89 @sotagledupinit @thepirateandhisson @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @fleurdepetite @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree

#captain swan #once upon a time #captain swan au #once upon a time au #cs ff #cs ff au

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pedrosbish · 3 years

Text

love me, sweet

word count: 950

warnings: some good ol’ fluff with a mix of angsty times (+lil bit spicy)

Warm lips trace the skin of your belly, moving slower over the scars left on your skin from years of growth and fights, the hair on his upper lip scratching lightly as he moves up to meet your lips, pecking once, twice and a third time before crashing down beside you. Hands meet each other in the dark, caressing gently, both too afraid to say anything that could break this peaceful quiet that surrounds them.

His fingers tug on yours, hinting for you to move closer to the warmth of his body and you do, you do because you’re afraid that this may be the last time you get to have him like this. Getting as close as possible, his hand guides your own up to his mouth and he kisses the smooth skin there before leading it over his heart where it beats steadily.

Even though he can’t see you, a smile breaks out across your face as you close your eyes and feel the beating of his heart, thump, thump, thump, under your palm. You smile up at him, picturing that his eyes are closed, eyebrows scrunching as he focusses on something - hoping with every fibre of your being that he is thinking of you.

What you don’t know is that he is smiling down at you too, a gentle and soft one as he slowly realises that he loves you.

The thought scares him but it confuses him even more. How could he be in love with you? You were colleagues, worked together in the same office for hours every day, talked most of that time about how you were going to take down one of the biggest cartels in history. There was no way a person could fall in love with another during those moments. There was no way a man like him could fall in love with someone like you.

He had prided himself on that fact that he had never made any flirtatious advances towards you. Being too pure, too good, to have him act that way towards you. So instead he became friends with you, having to be content with it even when he saw you accept drinks from men at bars or invitations to go on dates with men from work. What he didn’t know was that you declined all their offers, eyes looking over to him, only to see him avoiding the situation that played out in front of him.

But then he remembers all the little moments, ones that could easily be written off and tossed away like when you had left a freshly brewed cup of coffee (and not the crappy one they had at the office) on his desk which had turned into a normal thing; when you had baked cookies, claiming that you had accidentally made extra, giving the plate only to him; when you had held him for a moment longer than necessary after catching a cartel member; when you had pushed him out of the way of a bullet, taking it instead, and thankfully it had lodged into your bullet-proof vest.

He had driven you home after that, mouth pressed in a thin line and completely silent the whole way there, until he had slammed your front door behind him. He had yelled at you and you had yelled back, insults and accusations exchanged back and forth. He had only stopped when his voice was raw and tears were rolling down your cheeks, still shaking at the fact that you could have died that day, in the back of some dirty alley with him by your side. Javier Peña, the man you had secretly fell in love with, could have died that day if you hadn't been fast enough.

It was only then that he had kissed you.

It wasn't pretty or romantic at all, teeth clashing uncomfortably and tongues probing at awkward angles, and he had cursed himself, knowing that he could have done better in a different place, at a different time. He had expected you to shove him away, tell him to get the fuck out of your apartment and tell him that you never wanted to speak to him again. But you had surprised him by leaning into the kiss, pressing yourself harder against him, soft little noises escaping you that made him ache for you, knowing that you ached for him just as much.

He had taken you to bed that night and had kissed you until your lips felt bruised, had tasted you until you couldn't handle anymore, had fucked you into the mattress until the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He had left as soon as he was sure you had fallen asleep, placing a gentle kiss to your lips, then your forehead before leaving to get to work, explaining to the others that you needed rest after the day before. He had gone to his office, a small smirk on his face because only he knew the truth.

The two of you had been sneaking around since then, for months after that, and he was scared to admit to himself that he hadn’t felt this feeling in years, not since his last relationship.

He knew it should have scared him, should have sent him packing his things and running away from you, from this feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. But instead he settled next to you, pulling you closer, closer, closer which made a giggle escape past the lips he was so used to kissing, making his heart soar within his chest.

Fuck. He was in love with you.

But that was okay because you were in love with him too.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro watchlist #pedro pascal #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #dave york #dave york x reader #smut #angst #fluff #the manadalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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dracowars · 4 years

Note

was gud :) i LOVED your last request, and i can’t believe it was your 1 one - you’re definitely talented!! but i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n has a bruise on her face, bc harry and her had a big fight over draco.. she then tells him (cause he her bf), and draco goes completely crazy, and fights w/ harry in the bathrooms (yk movie typa style) - y/n then thinks that it’s all her fault, after he’s completely bruised and hurt -maybe like a cute fluffy ending? i love what you do xx

guardian | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 5,0k

summary: where y/n stands up for draco

a/n: thank you for requesting! this got longer than i intended lmao and i changed the plot of the movie a little to fit this one shot! hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, swearing, also harry is pretty nasty here

universe: harry potter

It is a cold, snowy and wintry day at Hogwarts, snowflakes slowly floating out of the greyish clouds above the already in a thick layer of snow covered castle. Christmas is just around the corner and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays and to being able to calm down from the stressful exam periods for a few weeks with their loved ones. You can't wait any longer either, because this year will be something very special.

This year you invited your boyfriend Draco to spend the festive holiday season with you and your family so that you can finally introduce him to them - not that they don't know already who Draco Lucius Malfoy is. Even if you are a Gryffindor and your family has very different views and values than Draco's, they are still accepting him and ready to welcome him with open, warm arms. Unlike your best friends Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Given that you were sent to Gryffindor in your first year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before you befriend the three of them. In fact, you first were friends with the Harry Potter himself before he introduced you to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and he is still one of your best friends until this point in time. However, when you got together with Draco Malfoy, the archenemy of the Golden Trio, they could no longer understand the world. How could someone like you be with someone like him?

Actually, you can't really explain it yourself, but at some point in your fourth year - probably when he asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him - one thing led to another and you found yourself madly in love with the platinum haired boy. Of course you can understand your best friends' view on your boyfriend, they have every reason to not like him, but it still does not give them the right to complain about your relationship over and over again. Instead of helping you with affairs of your and Draco's relationship, they often prefer to ignore you or give the popular answer: 'break up with him then'.

But because they are your closest friends, you (have to) tolerate their behavior, even if it has already caused you numerous sleepless nights. And Draco knows that. He knows how much the friendship with them can hurt you at times, and although he is not really fond of them either, he never once advised you to end your friendship. He is always trying to help you because deep inside he blames himself for making you feel so excluded from them. Because he is your boyfriend.

Several times he has already wondered whether he should break up with you just for the sake of you getting included into their friendship again. But he remained a little selfish and also was not strong enough to do it. He loves you too much.

Today, Harry and Ron made nasty remarks about Draco again right next to you in Potions, without taking into consideration that you were there. Only Hermione didn't get into their conversation and talked to you about the lesson. You don't know if she did it on purpose to distract you, but it luckily worked anyway.

Even so, you are smart enough to know that they talked about it until the end of the class. They talk about him all the time, it seems to have been their number one topic of conversation since the incident.

The incident when you went to the Three Broomsticks together several weeks ago to drink butterbeer and just enjoy yourselves, when you had to watch the poor girl Katie Bell, a Gryffindor from your year, pass out in front of you on the way back to Hogwarts. You helped her immediately and she was taken to the St. Mungo hospital. McGonagall later told you that it was a cursed necklace that was responsible for the accident.

And then it all started.

Harry and Ron were quick to blame Draco for the incident with Katie Bell, even though they had no sufficent proof at all. They were convinced that Draco must have had something to do with it, just because he is Draco Malfoy. And in fact, Draco actually acted strange lately, even towards you, but you would never assume that he would do something so cruel. Their accusions have grown so outrageous that you even had to distance yourself from your once best friends.

Still, you never told Draco about it. You know he would blew up in anger if he knew and since he is acting differently at the moment anyway, you don't want to make him feel even worse. That is why you kept it to yourself until now, to protect him.

After a while, you got closer with, mainly, Hermione again, but the constant reminders of what happened did not stop. Nevertheless you try your best to endure it and that is exactly why you are currently sitting at the Gryffindor table in the festively decorated Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron's conversation, that, for once, is not about your boyfriend or what he might have done.

At least not until Katie Bell, happy and healthy, suddenly enters the Great Hall again after her absence.

"Harry, over there! Katie Bell is back", Ron whispers and Harry turns around to look for her. Immediately, you lower your fork, that still has food attached to it, and swallow down the lump in your throat, waiting for them to make their next move. To say you have a very bad feeling about this situation is an understatement. "Guys. Let her be, she just arrived-"

"I will go up to her and ask what happened. She will surely confirm that Malfoy gave her the cursed necklace", Harry explains, rudly ignoring your comment while already standing up. Before he leaves, Harry gives you a look that says something in the lines of 'i'll prove to you who you got involved with'.

With tension and anger slowly building up inside of you, because he just won't let it go, you can only watch Harry go away and confront Katie. From her gestures you absoultely can't tell what she is telling your 'best friend', you can only hope that she tells the truth and that it wasn't Draco.

Speaking of which, right in this moment Draco enters the Great Hall and unintentionally walks straight towards Harry, who has just finished his conversation with the victim and doesn't even come back to your table but directly walks in Draco's direction. Draco, realizing that something is wrong, turns around and leaves the hall as quickly as he entered it.

With a jolt you get up from the table, accidentally throwing down your fork to the ground, and run out of the Great Hall, following them. You don't know what Katie told Harry, but it can't be something good considering the look that you saw on Harry's face.

"Harry!", you loudly yell at him when you finally catch up to him in a long, empty hallway with no sign of Draco anywhere. You stop Harry from going further by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Stop chasing him, please. Draco has nothing to do with this", you try to convince him, even though you don't even know what Katie told him, and thoughts, thoughts that should not be there and not even exist, creep into your mind slowly but surely. Thoughts that Draco might actually have something to do with it after all.

"Why are you still protecting him, Y/N?! He cursed Katie Bell, maybe even wanted to kill her and you still don't want me to follow him just because you are so blind of love that you don't even notice the monster that he is?", Harry angrily spats out, pointing his wand at you, which he had already drawn out of his pocket while he was running before. Feeling uncomfortable with a wand so close to your face, you furiously slap it away with your hand.

"Don't you dare to ever talk about him like that again", you threaten Harry, grinding your teeth and clenching your fist in an attempt to not do something any second that you would probably regret. "He is and always will be a ruthless Malfoy, Y/N. So stop playing dumb. We both know that he did it", Harry responds, accompanied by a disappointed shake of his head.

"Do you have any evidence?", you ask, expectantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You don't really want to know if he does because if he really does, it will surely break your heart into pieces. "What evidence does it still need for you to finally understand?", Harry huffs out annoyed. "There is no point in discussing with you anyway. I just want to talk to your boyfriend, so if you would excuse me now."

Without waiting for your answer, he continues to run through the corridor quickly, but the anger in your veins has now become so great that you follow him instantly and, this time more roughly, grab him by the wrist, bringing him to a halt. When he removes his hand from your grip angrily, he accidentally hits you directly in the face, which is why you stumble back a few steps.

Shocked, you cover your face with your hands, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes that form from the stinging pain. Not only do you seem shocked, but Harry himself too. Slowly you remove your trembling hands, only to discover a thick red substance on it. Your stomach makes a flip at the sight. Harry hit you with so much force that your nose is bleeding.

"Y-Y/N. I didn't mean to-", he stumbles over his words, trying to make up for what he did only seconds ago. But maybe this was the one action that you needed to realize what kind of a 'best friend' you have.

Or had.

"You didn't mean to?!", you scoff, trying your best to stop the blood from flooding out of your nostrils. "So this was not what you wanted to do for a long time, huh? Did you not even realize how much you and your antics hurt me already? You always think you know everything better and act like the hero everyone has been waiting for when you should really think about whether you are the actual monster here, Potter."

And with these hurtful words you turn around on your heel and go look out for Draco by yourself, not caring what Harry has to say. Most of all, you wish to never have to exchange a word with him in your life ever again.

Still angry, you stomp through the lonely corridors on your own, hoping to find your boyfriend soon, especially before Harry does. On your way you notice that the blood is already dripping to the ground and thus you are trailing a trail of blood drops behind you. You are just about to wipe the blood off with the back of your hand when you suddenly hear crying echoing through the empty hallway. Without hesitation, you run in the direction of the suppressed sobs that are getting louder and louder the closer you get until you eventually stop in front of the boys bathroom.

You wipe your face with your hand once and crack open the door a tiny bit to be able to get a glimpse inside the room. The bathroom is quite dark and cold and your gaze directly falls onto a figure leaning against one of the sinks, sobbing bitterly. His entire body is shaking from crying, your heart breaking at the sight, and you can see the knuckles on his fragile hands turn white as his grip tightens on the edge of the sink.

"Draco?", you whisper as quietly as possible to not scare him, your voice only inches away from breaking at the sight you are seeing in front of you. He always portrays himself as strong and proud when in reality he is breaking inside. His head snaps up instantly, looking at you standing behind him through the dirty mirror, defintely not expecting you here.

Draco turns around to face you, his shoulders hanging low as he so badly trys to stifle his sobs, not wanting to show him his weak side. Only now you notice the deep dark circles under his beautiful eyes - which have also lost their shimmer - and how emaciated his face is, how thin his entire body has become. Trying not to cry yourself because of the horrible sight, you slowly walk towards him, picking up his sweater he threw on the floor. As soon as you stand in front of him, you carefully take one of his trembling hands in yours, neither of you saying a word.

Your hand gently strokes up his arm until you reach his shoulder and you then place your hand on his neck. You look deep into his eyes, which suddenly seem so helpless and anxious. "I haven't seen you in days.. You look terrible, Draco", you softly pout at him, brushing a tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't me, Y/N. No matter what they say, it really was not me", Draco whimpers silently, taking your hand that previously was on his neck in his, pressing it against his chest, right at the place where his fast pounding heart beats against his skin. His sad eyes, filled with so much pain, seek eye contact with you, his face taking a desperate posture, scared about what will happen. Scared that you will not believe him. "I have been doing a lot of very very bad things lately, but I really did not do anything to that girl. You have to believe me, Y/N! I would never-"

"I believe you, Draco", you interupt him with a reassuring smile, glad that he opend up to you even if it was just a tiny bit, and move a little closer to him, gaze focused on your intertwined hands. "I will always believe you, baby. It hurts me to see you like this."

"You were not supposed to ever see me like this", Draco confesses, lowering his head in defeat. You gently place your hand on his jawline and and lead his face to look at you. "Don't say something like that. We all are allowed to sometimes let down our guard, even a Draco Malfoy is allowed to do so. You can't always be strong. And even if you are hiding something from me, I know that you have a plausible reason for it. Because I trust you, Draco. With my life", you explain, smoothly placing a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

Despite your statement that was supposed to soothe his tense posture, worry, that you can easily identify, creeps into his pale face. Contrary to what you expect - that he is still worried about you not believing him -however, this concern applies to you. "You're bleeding, Y/N!", Draco realizes, frightened, and his cold hands cup your face immediately, examining your face in the most precise way.

Since you have totally forgotten about both your nosebleed and the half-dried blood on your hands, your breath hitches as his thumb lightly brushes your nose. Draco's previously white long-sleeved shirt has blood stains all over it now, as does his sweater that you are still holding in one of your hands. "What happened?", Draco asks with concern in his broken voice as you wipe away the blood with the back of your hand one more time.

While you are looking for a suitable answer and the right words, Draco gets you a towel to prevent the blood from running down your chin. Carefully, he dabs it over the lower part of your face while you convulsively grimace. "When.. when you ran out of the Great Hall after seeing Harry and Katie Bell talk, Harry followed you straight away, but I couldn't let him hurt you or do anything to you, so I went after him. I wanted to stop him and, well, he hit me right in the face with his hand", you describe what happend and Draco's expression that was still worried a few seconds ago suddenly turns into one of pure anger.

"He did what?", he spits out, clenching his fists. "Draco, please. I don't think he did it on purpose, but it finally showed me what kind of friends I have. Don't worry, it is not as bad as it looks like", you give him a loving smile, but even that does not seem to calm him down at all. "Not as bad as it looks?! He hit you bloody, Y/N! He is pathetic if he thinks that he will get away with it that easily. No, not with me. I'm going to find this bastard now and teach him a lesson, once and for all", Draco rages, his jaw clenched as he passes you and goes to the door.

You quickly grab his arm and prevent him from leaving when suddenly said person steps through the door to the bathroom. Draco's muscles tense under your grip. "You!", he yells at Harry immediately, jumping towards him but being held back by you. "You hexed her, didn't you? Why did you curse Katie Bell, Malfoy? What the hell are you up to again?", Harry confronts him, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do to my girlfriend, Potter?! Who do you think you are?", Draco immediately counters and tightly grabs Harry by the collar with his free hand. "I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even realize it at first. Harry throws himself on Draco, who has broken out of your grip, hitting im with his fist directly in the face several times before Draco gains the upper hand and manages to kick Harry off of him, who slams on the floor with a cry. "Stop it you two! Do you want to kill yourselves?!", you step in, but Draco quickly gets up and pushes you to the side.

"Get out of here, Y/N. Now!", he orders, but you don't even think of leaving the two of them alone here. When Harry has straightend up again as well, they both have their wand in their hand, ready to fight. "Now it is time to show what the Chosen One is capable of", Draco provokes and shortly afterwards a red spell is already shooting in his direction. Draco skilfully evades the Expelliarmus spell and uses his own on Harry, also missing his target by a few inches.

"You have no chance against me, Malfoy", Harry mentions before attacking again, this time using Expulso. Draco dodges the spell which then hits the mirrors right between you and him, shattering them into a thousand pieces, the explosion throwing you to the ground. The floor of the room fills with water because the sinks were also damaged and Draco hastily pulls you out of the puddle. "Stay behind me", he quietly tells you, shooting at Harry who takes cover behind the toilet cabin.

For a moment, you do not hear any sound from his direction anymore. Draco's and your quick breath and the running water echo around the cold room. You cling more onto his arm, seeking protection, as you hear Harry's steps in the water. Draco immediately pulls you behind him, finding cover. Carefully, he looks around the corner, only to see Harry at the other end.

In the meantime you have also taken out your wand and listen closely to be able to locate Harry's exact position. Draco kneels down on the wet floor and looks under the cubicles, discovers Harry's feet on the other side and shoots Expulso at him. One of the toilets and cabins breaks under the impact of the spell and more water comes flooding onto the ground.

Draco and you quietly take a step forward to face Harry, but as soon as you do, a curse that you have never heard before flies into your direction. Draco stands in front of you to protect you and gets hit by the spell, stumbling back a few steps before falling to the floor with a splash. A loud scream escapes your throat and you manage to disarm Harry with Expelliarmus.

Whimpering, Draco lies on the floor covered in blood, the water around him turning a dark red color. With a cry you fall on your knees and crawl over to his trembling figure, carefully placing his head on your lap and holding his face in your hands. His body twitches at the pain emanating from the wounds that appear as if they have been slashed with a sword, and his lips quiver, emitting suffering noises.

"No, no, no, no! Look at me, baby. It will be alright, okay? We will fix it", you sob, caressing his cheek with your thumb as tears stream down your face. A shadow covers you as Harry slowly walks towards you. "What did you do? What kind of curse was that, Harry?! Undo it. Now!", you yell at him, your crying only getting worse. Shock and regret are written on his face, his gaze switching to Draco, who is suffering terribly. "Sectumsempra", Harry says in not more than a whisper. He himself does not know what he has done and shakes his head in disbelief, suddenly turning away from you and then he just runs out of the flodded bathroom.

"Come back, you coward! You can't just leave me here!", you shout after him, without succes. He is already gone.

While still holding Draco in your arms, you quickly look around for your wand, which lays in the water a few meters away from you. You carefully stretch in its direction and get hold of it. "Episkey", you whisper repeatedly, trying to stop Draco's bleeding, but to no avail. "HELP! Please, I need help. Someone has to help me", you yell as loud as you can, hopefully drawing someone's attention to you. Draco's breathing becomes faster and more irregular by every second that passes, his body trembling under your touch.

"Hold on, Draco. I will fix this, just stay with me, okay?", you assure him, but slowly lose hope yourself since all of the healing spells you have ever learned are unsuccessful. "I am so sorry..", you cry out, your forehead gently touching his. Now, all you can hear are your sobs and Draco's painful whimpers.

And footsteps.

"What happened here?", Professor Snape suddenly appears in the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the young and badly hurt Malfoy in your arms. "P-Potter.. He-", you try to explain but Snape shoves you to the side ungently, taking a closer look at Draco's injuries. He takes out his wand right away and runs the tip over Draco's wounded torso.

"Vulnera Salentur", Snape speaks to himself and you watch the puddle of blood that had formed around Draco's almost lifeless body disappear, as do the blood stains on his white shirt. Except those made of your blood.

His breathing regulates itself again and not waiting one more second, Professor Snape picks him up and directly heads to the door. You quickly follow him without saying a word, just sobbing to yourself all the way to the hospital wing. However, before you can go inside, you are stopped by Madam Pomfrey and can only watch Snape laying down Draco on one of the hospital beds before the door closes in front of you.

Heavily crying you lean against the wall with your back next to the door and let yourself sink to the floor, your knees drawn to your body and your forehead on top of them. Your small figure permeated by your bitter sobs, you don't even notice when the door opens after a few minutes and Snape stands in front of you. "Ms. Y/L/N", he clears his throat, your head shooting up in shock while tears run down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Will he be okay?", you poud, wiping some of your tears away while standing up. "We assume. He needs a lot of rest", he explains and you nod in approval, sinking down your head. "I won't even bother to ask what happened. But you may want to get treated as well", he adds, pointing to the dried blood that is smeared over your face and hands. "Thank you, Professor, but I would rather stay here and wait", you answer in a sad voice.

"Then why out here?", Snape asks reproachfully, cocking an eyebrow. Confusion written all over your face you stare at him, not understand at all what he is pointing at, and he just crosses his arms with a sigh. "I told Madam Pomfrey about you and your relationship to Mr. Malfoy. She allows you to stay with him as long as you stay quiet", he explains. "O-Of course! I will not make any noise", you assure him and with a nod he leads you into the hospital wing.

Draco is lying on a white hospital bed with closed eyes, the blanket pulled up to his chin, only his head peeking out from underneath. Madam Pomfrey eyes you suspiciously, but still points to a chair next to the bed which you are supposed to sit on. You sit close to the bed and look at Draco with sad eyes, your tears still finding their way over your already damped cheeks. There are bluish purple spots on his face, the result of Harry's punches, and his lip has been treated where it was split open.

"He should regain consciousness soon. I have never treated a student who was under the Sectumsempra curse before. Let us hope for the best", says Madam Pomfrey as she clears some medical bottles from a small table next to you. "You are lucky that Professor Snape was there."

"Thank you, Professor. For everything", you sniff and give him the best warm smile you can manage right now. Snape seems quite surprised at your words, but then nods before leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey also leaves you and Draco alone for now.

The longer you look at Draco and his current condition, the worse the guilt builds up inside of you. You gently touch his forehead with your tembling hand and brush a platinum blonde strand from his face. "It's all my fault", you cry and search for his hand under the covers, which you then carefully take into yours. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Dejected and overwhelmed by guilt, you drop your head and cry relentlessly, your sobs giving the empty room a sorrowful atmosphere. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your hand and look up. Draco's eyelids twitching lightly before his eyes slowly flutter open, his gaze meeting yours. "Hey, darling. What's wrong?", he asks in a hoarse voice, worry spreading over his features.

"You are awake!", you say, even more tears running down your cheeks. "I was so scared, Draco", you sob and he puts his hand on your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "Look, I'm fine now, Y/N. You don't need to worry anymore", he tries to cheer you up even though you both perfectly know that he is not fine yet.

"If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened. And then I couldn't even help you and there was blood everywhere, your blood, and-", you ramble but his index finger on your trembling lips stops you from doing so. "There is no way that it is your fault, sweetheart. If anyone is to blame, it is Potter", he denies your statement. "B-But you could have die-"

"Stop it, Y/N! If anything, you saved my life. And I would do the same for you. I would go through this pain over and over again if it means that I can protect you", he states and you fall into his arms, his eyes now full of tears as well because in his eyes it looks like you have suffered a lot more than him. All the blood that is still covering your soaked clothes, your hands and your face, shows him that you are in a just as bad of a condition as he is.

"Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth your precious tears, sweetheart", he claims while giving you a tired smile. "I should have never trusted Harry. I didn't know that you could be so wrong about a person", you apologize again. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

Draco, sensing your building up feelings of guilt, tries to sit up a bit but abruptly stops in his movement, hissing in pain. Alarmed, you get up and gently push him back into the mattress. "Does it still hurt? Should I let Madam Pomfrey know?", you ask worriedly and smooth the covers over his so fragile looking body. In your mind already on the way to Madam Pomfrey, Draco only shakes his head in disapproval. "No, I'm fine. Just a little bit sore, that's all", he genuinely smiles at you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him.

Your faces only inches away now you stare into his grey eyes while they roam over your face. "How is your nose?", he asks and his fingers, which found their way to your cheek earlier, lightly brush over the bridge of your nose. His questions makes you huff out and you move away, your cheeks turning in a slightly tint of red. "That is not important right now, Draco. You getting well again is much more important than my nose", you roll your eyes because he is still not paying attention to his own condition that is much worse than yours.

"Not for me", his stubborn self answers, pouding like a child. And before you know it he pulls you back and connects your lips in a loving and cheering kiss. A soft kiss to thank each other for being the other's guardian.

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bored-mumma · 3 years

Text

Text Message Part Two - Chris Evans x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

TITLE: Text message CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 WORD COUNT: 2104 (I got carried away) ORIGINAL IMAGINE: This by @theartofimagining13 NOTES/WARNINGS: Swearing. Arguments. Gaslighting and toxic behavior. This is the final chapter for sure. Also I wrote this so quickly it just kind of flowered I bloody loved it. Maybe some proof-reading errors.

Small patches of light crept in through your window, barely being blocked by the blinds. Birds sang their songs from outside, trees swayed gently in the breeze. Everything indicted a calm, warm morning. Except that was far from how things were for you.

Last night, you told your boyfriend, Chris, to not bother coming home if he's going to continue to accuse you and ask to check through your phone. And he didn’t come home. You stayed awake for a long time after getting home. By the time you calmed down, had a bubble bath and watched some TV, it was three in the morning and still no sign of Chris. With a sad sigh, you turned off the telly, rolled over and attempted some sleep.

Now it was nearly nine in the morning. You awoke with groggy eyes, feeling extremely deflated and your cheeks dry from the tears you shed last night. You weren't used to waking up in a cold bed alone. Usually, Chris would awake first. He would roll over, wrap his arms around your waist and gently wake you with his warmth and kisses to your cheek. It was a wake-up call you always adored, no matter what time it would be. But today just felt cold and lonely.

Sitting up, you reached to grab your phone from your bedside table, your stomach turning as you remember more of the argument from the night before. Half of you hoped you would see some messages from Chris, maybe some missed calls. Something to tell you he was sorry and saw the error of his ways. But as you scrolled through all your notifications, you realised there was nothing from him. You debated whether or not to be the bigger person, to text him first and apologise but your stubborn side came out to play before you could - you technically didn't have anything to apologise for! He was the overly jealous one. He was the one who ruined nearly every date you had with his accusations. He was the one who wanted to breach your privacy. You were nothing less than a faithful girlfriend who fell in love with a man with a lot of emotional baggage.

That morning dragged like crazy. You took a shower to try and clear your mind, even ordered in your favourite breakfast from the diner down the street. But your mind always wandered back to Chris. You realised you weren't even sure where he stayed! Was he safe? Just as panic was starting to flow through you, your phone pinged.

Can we talk?

Chris had text you first. Part of you was so happy he did. Maybe that meant he realised he was the one in the wrong and therefore he was the one who had to make the first move to make it right! The other part of you hated the vague words of the message. Can we talk? Does that mean Chris wants to make things better or... No, no it must mean he wants to make everything better. You two were an amazing couple, fully infatuated with each other. It just Chris' insecurity got in the way sometimes. You felt for him and the heartbreak he must have felt when he discovered his ex-fiancée was having an affair with his best friend and you understood how that would affect his ability to trust. But this was getting too much for you to handle. He was right. You guys needed to have a nice long, good talk.

You text him back asking what time he could come home and he replied saying he can be there in twenty minutes. You pottered around as you waited. Made some tea for you both, quickly did some tidying, basically did what you could to try and not overthink what you will say to Chris. However, before you knew it, you heard a key in the door and Chris stepping inside. You walked over to see him and the two of you stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi." He said at last.

"Hello." You replied. The air felt awkward and thick. You hated it. "Take a seat, I made you some tea." You scurried out into the kitchen as Chris made himself comfortable. You took your time grabbing the tea, your heart was beating like crazy from nerves. You didn't know what you wanted to say. All you knew, was you desperately wanted things to change. You were so unhappy and that wasn't fair for you! You came back into the living room with the tea to see Chris sitting on the armchair, still wearing his coat and shoes indicating he doesn't plan on staying for very long.

"Thank you," He said, taking his mug. "Look, we need to talk about what happened last night." He sounded quiet, his voice hoarse. As you listened, you noticed the bags under his eyes and how his clothes, the ones he was wearing last night, were all dishevelled, like he slept in them. "This is not how I want my relationship to go," He continued. "I love you. I just... I struggle to trust you. Which is my problem! I know that! And I'll work on that. But you have to meet me in the middle here."

"Meet you in the middle?" You asked, shaking your head slightly with confusion. Chris took a deep breath before he explained.

"I feel like it's unfair you wouldn't let me have your phone last night." He said it like it was so obvious. It took all your strength not to interrupt him, telling him to stop talking before he starts pissing you off. "I mean, I let you use mine all the time. You know I have trust issues, I was just asking for a little help to deal with that."

"I shouldn't have to give up my privacy to help you with your issues." You said, a little more harshly than you intended. "How about couples therapy? Get through this without breaking any boundaries." You tried to reason but it became clear that was not a good route to take. Chris stood and started to pace around the chairs.

"Why do you need privacy from me? I'm your boyfriend! We don't need to waste our time at therapy. All I'm asking is for one simple thing. You can look through mine and I'll look through yours." He stood in front of you now, his frame towered over yours which was still sat on the chair. "You wonder why I get so jealous or - or possessive and then go pull some bullshit like last night!"

"I didn't pull any bullshit!" You said, standing up to meet Chris' harsh gaze. "I asked you to sort your shit out. What about this screams like a good relationship to you Chris? The yelling, the accusations, the constant checking up on me!"

"I don't check up on you." He looked at you like you were mad.

"You call me about fifty thousand times a day, Chris. Which I wouldn't mind so much if you didn't get neurotic every time I accidentally missed a call or took too long to answer a message." You felt tears start to sting your eyes as you finally allowed all your frustrations out, voice getting louder with each word. Usually, you would just try and help Chris in any way you could but no more. No more would you roll over and let him have his way. "You're controlling and jealous all the god-damn time Chris and I can't cope with it anymore!"

The two of you stood still, staring at each other. Both knowing what was coming, neither wanting to be the one to do it. Eventually, you took the jump.

"I don't..." You swallowed, trying hard to not let too much emotion out. You knew if you did, you would break down crying. "I don't think this is working anymore, Chris." You looked away, not bearing to watch the tears that were starting to drop from his eyes. He stepped closer to you so that your bodies were touching. You could smell his cologne, feel his warmth. My God you loved him. "I think our time together is done." You felt his hand under your chin, two fingers holding it and tilting your head so you looked up at him. Using his other hand, he brushed some hair from your face. You felt the familiar tingle on your skin where he touched you. Even after all this time together, he still made you giddy. You stared at him in the eyes as he held you.

"Who is he?" He whispered.

Your head span when he asked. What? What the hell? Who's who? You realised what he meant. Even now, he thinks there's someone else. Even when his possessiveness has pushed you so far to the edge you had no choice but to jump. He still believed your heart belonged to another. You realised right then, nothing will ever make him believe you. You could stand here and rip your chest open, bleeding out as you gave him your heart and he would still tell you it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. His trauma was too much for you to handle anymore and it was finally time to start putting yourself first again.

"I know you probably won't believe me Chris, but I need you to listen to me." You took his face in your hands, making sure to make strong eye contact as you spoke. "I love you. No one else, ok? Never anyone else. I was faithful. I was strong. I loved you more than I thought I ever could." The tears started to fall from both your eyes at a much quicker pace. "None of the incredible things that have happened to me in the past few years would have happened to me without you. I owe you for that. But I owe myself to be happy too." You used your thumb to wipe away some of the tears from his cheeks. "I love you. So much. But we need to end. I can't do this anymore." Chris took your hands in his. He pressed his lips against them both as a way to muffle his cries. "I'm so sorry." You sobbed. "I'm sorry Chris. I wish I was strong enough to keep going but I'm not. I love you."

Chris dropped your hands and grabbed your face, bringing it towards him as he hurriedly captured your lips in a breath-taking kiss. He held you close to him, your kiss becoming salty as your tears mixed on your tongues. He tasted of his usual toothpaste along with some of the tea he barely touched. His hair felt soft as you ran one of your hands through it, using the other to grab his coat and pull him closer. When the need for air became too much, you pulled away, chest rising and falling as you both tried to catch your breath. You stared at him, debating whether this was the right choice. You loved him so much your heart hurt. But what came next... you knew you made the right decision.

"Does he kiss you like that?"

Your mouth dropped at those words. Nothing would ever change. You walked away from him, picking up his keys from the table and handing them over to him.

"I'm at work tomorrow, I'll make sure your stuff is packed and ready for you to collect whilst I'm out." You muttered. You had cried too much all ready for a relationship that died months ago. You refused to cry anymore. Chris took the keys from your grip and stared at you. His jaw twitched. Clearly words were trying to escape from his lips but he wouldn't let them. You had never seen Chris like this. You couldn't tell what he was feeling. But that was no longer your problem.

"I hope he breaks your heart like you did mine," Chris said at last. When you didn't reply, Chris let out a dry laugh before walking out of your home. For the very last time.

You finally allowed yourself raw emotions. You collapsed onto your sofa, hands scrunched over your face as you bellowed, cries echoing off the walls. You could feel your heart breaking in two as you realised he would never hold you again. That you would never wake up to his hugs, that would never taste his lips on yours again. But it was for the best. You deserved someone who would trust you and that someone, sadly, would not be Chris Evans. No matter how much you loved him, he was not the man you were destined to be with.

A/N: Oh I’m sorry you wanted a happy ending? We don’t do that here.

#chris evans #imagine chris evans #chris evans x reader #text message #angst #break up #argument #part two #bored-mumma #theartofimagining13

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baticorngirl · 3 years

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Okay but all of Talia-hater's arguments get so much funnier when you take them as in Tallant's universe.

Like whenever they say "her son" you're just like, "oh right, yeah, Tallant, the first child she ever mothered that wasn't a fetus from that alternate universe".

Because, like..... it's just such obvious proof that all their arguments boil down to "I only read Grant Morrison's stuff". Tallant was created over 10 years before Damian. The stuff in Brotherhood of the Bat/League of Batmen is the only comic that ever portrayed Talia as a mother (excluding Son of the Demon since we didn't really see her interact with the child once it was born) 100% Pre-Morrison.

Edit: Soooo I forgot about the World’s Finest thing where Clark and her had a child named Kara (because the superfam needs another Kara lol). So I guess it’s only one of the few 100% pre-Morrison interpretations of her parenting. Really, what I meant to say was that Tallant was Talia and Bruce’s first non-fetus child, and the only child she had with him that we saw her parent before her character assassination. I included some accusations that directly link to Bruce so it kind of had to be that, you know? Besides, Kara is her daughter, so the “her son” thing doesn’t work.

So... let's just start with some basic examples.

"She abused her son!"

Since when???

Like I get she did shelter him a lot and kind of held him back from going out in the world, but in her defense that 'outside world' was a little bit... idk...apocalyptic? Seriously, there was an extremely deadly virus just spreading EVERYWHERE, if you don't blame parents for making sure their child is being safe with covid precautions, you really can't blame her for keeping him at home for most of his childhood when a much, much, worse pandemic was devouring the world.

And yeah, I also get that she did put a lot of pressure on him, but it's not like she even forced him into any specific ideas of what she expected him to do. Even when presenting who his father was, she still only described it "another way of viewing the world", letting him study and learn about his father on his own to develop an opinion on his own.

Actually, she was very into making sure he developed his own opinions and not forcing any ideals on him. She asked him what his own opinion was often..... which was probably due to her own desire to be a better parent than her father, who constantly pushed his own ideals and 'way of viewing the world' on to her.

Actually, I didn't even realize that connection before now! Anyhow, I think it's pretty obvious she basically was just saying he was amazing and he was going to accomplish great things.

Not gonna lie, it does seem a little iffy that she says "must be great" but like... may I remind you yet again that it's the apocalypse, it's sure gonna need to be a great destiny if it'll do ANYTHING to save the world now! For goodness sake's she just didn't want him to die.

That being said, she's definitely a flawed parent. Yet, literally every parent is flawed, and she definitely did loved him and try her best. Despite him already being a full-grown adult when the story starts, she worries about him SO dang much throughout it.

Abused is a very strong word, and she never tried to take advantage of him, so seriously. The story was constantly highlighting how much she loved him, why would you think that???

"She killed her own son"

Wut

To make her suffer..... Ra's commanded that Talia's last sight be Tallant's dead body.... because his death would devastate her......

Yeah no. Also Tallant never even died, lol.

What, you think she was just going undercover as Bruce's wife for the last FIFTY YEARS just so she could kill the son that DIDN'T EVEN EXIST BEFORE SHE WENT UNDERCOVER???

"Talia r*ped Bruce"

Huh?

Tallant was literally just conceived by his parents being married.... and them loving each other.... where did you even get this idea

This is very weird wording but they.... "Together they conspired against [Ra's] to birth a son named Tallant" doesn't really sound very unconsensual.

"She never truly loved Bruce"

Yeah, that's why she betrayed her own father for him.

(Not that she hasn't betrayed her father for her own reasons and personal morals before, but gosh..... in this universe, it canonically had sooooo much to do with him)

"She doesn't love her own son"

Yeah, that's why (as I already stated) she's constantly worrying about him and also is only sure she made the right choice of changing to Bruce's side on Bruce and Ra's' constant battle because it resulted in his birth.

That's all I can think of right now, but if you have any ideas yourself, feel free to add on!

#talia al ghul #anti grant morrison #tallant wayne #brotherhood of the bat #league of batmen #tw mentions of rape #tw mentions of child abuse #ra's al ghul #good mom talia #batman #dc #character analysis #meta #kinda???#baticorn talks

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hellcaster901 · 4 years

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Man Without Sin

Sherlock Holmes x Female reader

Summary: With your little brother missing, your father decides they need the best Detective on the job.

Word Count: 3,890

Warning(s): SMUT! (please be aware this is a fanfiction, be safe please), creampie, FLUFF

A/N: After watching Enola Holmes, I could not get this man out of my mind, so I just wanted to give it a try and write a oneshot for him, and this is what I got! Hopefully you guys like it, and you enjoy it. I just wanna say a big thank you to my good friend @13dead-ends mostly because she was so cool with letting me write for her man and for being my proof reader. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes was a cocky bastard. Too smart for his own good sort of cocky bastard, and you did everything in your power to remind him that he wasn��t one of a kind.

It all started when your brother mysteriously vanished, leaving you and your father alone in the house, wondering why or where he left. You asked your father to trust in you that you could solve it, figure out why he ever left in the first place and where you could find him, but he didn’t have any faith in you, rather all his faith was in the one and famous Sherlock Holmes, the one true detective that could solve any mystery and any puzzle, and you’d be damn if you’d let this man solve your brother's case, without you.

When Sherlock first came into your life, your father did everything he could to make the investigation easier for him, offering the spare room in the house, giving him any information that he could about your brother, paying the detective in any way he can. You could not handle it. Especially since Sherlock’s first suspect… was you.

“It's a bit strange that a boy of his age would just up and vanish. What was his age, 16?”

“He is 16.” You corrected the detective. You couldn’t help the tone in your voice as you answered. You put your hands on your hips as you watched him pace around your brother’s room, looking at all of the trinkets and books the young boy collected throughout the years. Watching as he picked up said items, studying each and every one of them. “He wouldn’t have just left.” You stated, voice a little softer, looking at everything in his room. “That isn’t like him.”

“You never truly know someone, even if they are a sibling.”

“Are you suggesting you know my own brother better than I do?” You snapped, head whipping around to look at Mr. Holmes. You could see that he had a shocked look on his face at your little outburst, but quickly was able to shake it off. “Just because you’re a hot-shot detective doesn’t mean you instantly know a person by their possessions.”

“I’m suggesting that it’s strange a young man of his age disappeared and there’s no witnesses.” He stared. You could see the look on his face, the way his eyes search yours, trying to find any hint of doubt or lies that hide, yet there was none, and you knew what he was doing.

“Mr. Holmes,” You coldly smiled, taking a step into the room, “Are you accusing me of being involved with my brother’s disappearance?” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head, the black curls atop of his head shaking with his movement as he smirked.

“Everyone’s a suspect until I say they aren’t.”

You may have been a little emotional, and you may have been a bit unfair. He was helping, giving his time to search for your brother, but accusing you was the last straw. Not only could you not stand the man, he apparently had a way with making it the most difficult week of your life for you. Constantly in the way, constantly underestimating you as you tried to help, and constantly giving you that bloody smirk of his that made your blood boil, and your knees weak. No matter how hard you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind, he was attractive, but that didn’t help his giant ego.

Sadly, that’s how you ended up in this situation, lost in an abandoned building all because your leads all ended up here, and somehow, your own ego to find your brother and not trust the actual detective, ended you up here, walking the empty, decaying walls, looking for clues. You didn’t even tell your father where you were, trusting that this could be your chance to show that you were just as capable. And you knew you were, each lead, each witness said that they saw a disheveled man, close to the image of your brother on the missing person’s posters, come here around this time, everyday.

You trusted your gut as you walked through the halls, the floorboards creaking beneath you as you took were timid steps. As you walked, you noticed the many supplies and boxes laying around, what was in them you didn’t care for, you just knew that your brother was in this building.

As you walked through the first floor, you soon began hearing boards creaking above you, heavy footsteps walking around, and muffled voices. You felt your heart race in your chest, hearing more than one voice, and hearing more than one set of footsteps. You didn’t expect to be more than your brother just here, and that made you nervous.

You grabbed at your skirts, lifting them and walking up the steps, the boards groaning at each movement. You took it slow, the muffled voices becoming a bit more clearer as you walked, and as you got closer, you could distinctly make out your brother’s voice. Shaky and panicky. You stayed calm besides the rush of confidence and nervousness washed over you. Taking a step onto the landing, you looked up and over the railing. You noticed one of the doors was cracked open, exposing the well lit room, men walking past the cracked door. They were older men, a rugged look to them as they stood there, yelling about shipments and the impact it could make on their business

You took a small step forward, the floorboards moaning beneath you at your weight, a few of the boards cracking beneath, trying to get a better look at your brother. You held your breath as you watched, eyes watching the door frantically as the men walked passed. When finally, the sight of your brother, disheveled and scared stepped into your view. A sense of relief and proudness washed over you. A relief that your brother was alive, and proud that you were able to do this by yourself.

He stood there, eyes wide, undershirt and trousers wrinkled and covered in dirt. You wanted to yell for him, to scream for him to follow you, to get out of here. But you knew this was more than just him running away. You took another step, wanting to get a closer look, when the board beneath you cracked loudly, before it finally snapped.

You screamed as your leg broke through the board, the wood scratching against your leg, pulling and tearing at your undergarments and skirts.

“Who the hell are you?” You looked up, seeing a large man standing at the tops of the stairs, some other men standing behind you, your brother staring down at you with wide eyes. He shook his head at you, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. It was pure fear. You watched as the man opened his mouth again, ready to demand my name, when the boards creaked beneath you again, cracking under your weight.

“Y/N!” You looked down at the bottom of the stairs, seeing Sherlock standing there. And that's when you fell.

***

Your eyelids fluttered open, your eyes focusing on the paintings that covered the wall. Paintings of you as a child, your mother and father. You smiled softly at the painting, seeing how happy they were, you bundled in your mother’s arms. Your eyes shifted to the large painting hanging next to it, one of you, older now, probably 10, standing behind your father as he held your little brother.

Your brother @@

With a gasp you jerked from where you laid, yelling your brother’s name, knowing you saw him. You stood up, wincing at the slight pain in your legs and hips, falling back onto the couch you once were.

You stared down at your skirts, touching the dirty, torn fabric, everything coming back. Seeing him with those men, standing there on the landing, falling through the boards, seeing Sherlock.

“Y/N.” you were torn from your trance, looking up at the doorway to see Sherlock standing there. You wondered what you looked like after seeing him, standing there, dirty and debris covering his vest and white undershirt, his hair was no longer put together and neat, more as disheveled, almost like he was constantly running a hand through it.

“I saw him.” You whispered, looking down at the state you were in. “I found him.” You took a shaky breath in, looking back up at the detective. “We need to go find him.” You shook your head, standing up, ignoring the pain that shot up your leg.

“Y/N.” He spoke again, coming towards you, placing a hand on your upper arm. “You need to rest, you’ve-”

“No.” You snapped, pulling your arm away from his, shaking your head. You felt your hair brush against your shoulders. You looked down, noticing that your blouse was torn from the neck down, exposing your chest and your corset. You were a mess, but for the moment, all you wanted was your baby brother home. “I saw him. I found him.” You snapped again, waving a hand at Sherlock, everything that happened in the last couple hours rushing over you. “I can find him again, I just need to-”

“Stop.” Sherlock barked, grabbing your arms. He turned you, shaking you lightly as you stood there before him, eyes wide and lips parted as you looked over his features. He was upset, either at losing your brother after looking for so long, or you were just annoying him.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” You scoffed, trying to tug yourself from his hands, but to no prevail, he held on, keeping you in your place. “Let go.” You huffed, wiggling around to get out of his grasp. But he had a tight hold on you, not letting you go, not letting you go back out and getting yourself hurt. “I need to find him.”

“You did.” He yelled, making you flinch in his hands, stopping your wiggling around. “You found him,” He repeated again, but his tone was much softer than before, his blue eyes searching yours, trying to calm you down. “But this is more than either of us thought it was.” He explained, his hands feeling like fire on your arms as you listened. “He’s dealing with something illegal, something that could get him, and everyone one involved hurt.”

“He’s not.” You shook your head, not believing that your brother would put himself into a situation like that. “You’re lying.” You whispered, pulling from his hands, and this time he let you go. “Why are you lying?”

“Why would I lie to you?” He cooly spoke.

“You are.” You scoffed. “I’m looking for him.” You pushed past the large man, gasping as you felt one of his hands on your wrist, tugging you back. “Don’t you dare.” You gasped, turning on your heels and lifting a hand. Before you could even smack him, your hand slapping his chiseled face, he caught your wrist, tugging you to him.

You huffed as you fell against his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist, fingers hooking onto the bottom of your corset, keeping you close, the other hand still holding onto your wrist. You moved against him, but he kept you tight, not letting you move.

“You a stubborn girl.” he grunted, his eyes shifting down to see your bosom rubbing against his chest, the corset scratching against the vest. “Stop moving.” He held you tighter, arm keeping you against him. You looked up, ready to scream and kick and cry, but everything was washed away when you realized how close the two of you have become. “Being upset isn’t going to save him.” He whispered, slowly letting go of your wrist. But by this point, you weren’t freaking out, whatever he was doing, held you in a trance. “Let me save him.” And just like that, that trance was gone.

“You save him?” You whispered, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not doing anything without me.” You fumed, getting heated up once again. “What makes you think that I’m not capable of saving my own-”

Sherlock was fed up with listening to you talk.

And to shut you up, he cupped the back of your head, and kissed you.

You were shocked when his lips met yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as he crushed you against him, shutting you up with his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, melting into him as everything from today was erased from your mind the second his lips touched yours. He smelt like sweat, like an old house, which you were sure was from the abandoned home you were just in.

Sherlock draped both his arms around your waist,your own hands making their way up his large arms before resting on his back, lips moving together, nose bumping as he inhaled you. You felt as if your knees were going to give out on you, but you knew that he was going to catch you if they did. It must’ve been a sight to see the two of you, one covered in dirt and grime, while the other barely had a blouse on with a torn skirt and exposed corset.

It was as if the adrenaline from today was finally catching up for the two of you, your arms tugging him impossibly closer, lips sliding against one another. Soon what was a hesitant kiss, turned into one filled with passion. He lifted you up, walking you towards the table that sat in the middle of the room, placing you on top. He was gentle, still minding the bruise and cuts that you once just obtained. “You need to let me find your brother.” He mumbled against your lips, hands making their way up your back, fingers dragging along the bumps of the tight lace of your corset.

You pulled away, furrowed eyebrows at the man.

“You must be joking.” You tried to ignore the way his flushed cheeks, the newly red and plumpness to his lips made those butterflies that were once in your stomach travel down south. “You’re not looking for him without me.”

“Y/N.” He huffed, fingers playing with the tight lace at the bottom of your corset, it was distracting, and he knew that it was. “It’s not safe for a lady-”

“Don’t you dare.” You groaned, shoving at his chest. “Either I’m looking with you, or I’m looking without you.” You pointed, watching the way his eyebrows scrunched together. “That’s final.” You could see that he was thinking about it before he finally huffed.

He tugged you back, soft lips meeting yours as his hands grabbed at your skirts lifting them to around your waist. “Strong Headed girl.” He groaned, settling himself between your thighs. You gasped as you felt him rut against you, his length rubbing against your most sensitive parts. “Most difficult girl.”

You smirked against his lips, a strong sense of pride as you realized that you were able to frustrate this man to the point of taking you on the table. And if that wasn’t a boost to your ego, frustrating England’s most profound detective, you weren’t sure what was.

There was no time to waste as the two of you frantic pulled at one another’s clothes. Your hands slipping between your bodies as you unbutton his pants, hearing the small gasps that left his lips when you shoved the barrier down, exposing him to your curious eyes. You pulled away from him, nervously looking down.

This was the most unlady like situation you’ve ever been in, but Sherlock Holmes was the exception for acting in such a manner.

You grew hot at the sight, unknowing licking your lips as you looked back at Sherlock. No words were spoken as he leaned down, kissing you as his hands worked at your own undergarments, shoving them to your ankles, hanging on one foot while he tugged you close to the edge of the table.

You winced at the slight pull from your legs, the newly fresh wounds pulling against your skin as he lifted a leg up, hooking it around his hip.

From the past couple weeks of pent up anger and frustration at one another, this was bound to happen, the passing looks, the arguments, all of it, was leading up to this single moment.

“Sherlock.” You gasped, finger digging into his arms as he nudged against you, his length slipping between your lips, smearing your juices over your throbbing sex and down his cock.

“Do you realize how long I’ve wanted to shut you up with this?” He groaned against your ear, both of you looking down, one hand holding up your thigh around his waist, while the other held your skirts up, exposing the intoxicating sight to you both. You reached down, grabbing more of the skirts as you pulled them up, more light being exposed to the obscene sight. “Such a stubborn girl should know her place.” He whispered, thrusting against you, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit, making you jerk against the table.

“Sherlock, please.” You begged. Even though his words were enough to make your blood boil any other time, this time, you wanted to hear more and more of his filthy words.

He grabbed the back of your neck, lifting his head to look at you, keeping you in place as he rested his forehead against yours. “You better be quiet.” He warned. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. Neither of you wanted your father walking in to see his daughter being used by the detective he idolized.

He reached between your heaving bodies, wrapping a large hand around his length as he lined himself up with you, slowly pushing against your entrance, squeezing between your tight walls. You gasped loudly, hiding your head in the crook of his neck, hearing the soft moans of this wonderous man.

“Sherlock!” You croaked out, a hand clenching your skirts while the other grabbed at his vest. Pushing him or tugging him closer, you weren’t sure. The way this man was barely in you, and you were already a whimpering mess was uncalled for. He stretched you out deliciously, the slight burn of your walls opening for him made you cry against his neck. He left soft kisses against your shoulder, shushing you as you cried out a little too loud when he filled you to the hilt.

“Look at you, stubborn girl.” He whispered against your ear, chills running down your back at the thickness of his voice, his cock and the stupid pet name he gave you.

He slowly pulled out of you, snapping his hips against yours. You bit down on the fabric of his vest, trying to cover the sounds this man was pulling from you. He wasn’t gentle, showing you that if you were going to be a part of the hunt for your brother, that he was in charge.

You tried to keep quiet, but it was no use as he fucked you, the edge of the table digging into the back of your thighs. You moans were choked and intertwined with quiet sobs against his shirt, tears filling your eyes as he took you.

“Such a smart girl,” he grunted, weaving a hand into your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. You gasped at the sudden movement, his hands moving down to grasp your chin in his hand, making you look at him, fingers digging into your skin. “But I finally left you speechless.” He smirked. You opened your mouth to make a smart comment to him, but was met with a hard thrust, making whatever sarcastic comment you were going to say, not worth it at that moment.

Sherlock was a sight for sore eyes. Face was scrunched up in pure pleasure, eyes looking over your face as his lips parted when he gave you another hard thrust. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, it was a stress reliever for the two of you. You reached up, cupping the side of his face, tugging him down and kissed his pink lips, drinking down his grunts as he chased his high.

“I’m close Sherlock.” You mumbled against his lips, his hand that grasped your chin fell to your bosom, fingers digging into the corset, locking you in place as he bucked into you. “Let me feel you.” You whispered, licking his bottom lip. You were so desperately close, almost like a tornado was happening within your stomach, your walls fluttering around his cock as you desperately wanted to reach your own climax.

Sherlock’s hand that was wrapped around your thigh tightened, lifting the leg even higher around his hip, his cock splitting you open even more. “Sherlock!” You cried against his lips, feeling his cock bump against your g-spot with each hard stroke. “Yes, right there.” You no longer cared if you sounded like a whore in a brothel, all you wanted was this man to make you feel like you were on a cloud.

“Let go Y/N.” He grunted, his hand that was once grabbing your corset wrapping around your body, tugging you right to the edge of the table. “Let me feel you sweet girl.”

It was as if your whole body locked up around him, your thighs clenching together in a tight embrace around his hips, your walls squeezing his cock like a vice. His name left your lips like a prayer, your orgasm taking a hold of your body as held onto him for dear life.

Sherlock growled into your neck as he came, desperately bucking into your tight walls as he emptied himself, crushing you against him. He rutted against you, a few final thrusts as he came, his seed filling you, his cock twitching as he slowly came to a stop.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment, your hand shakily reaching for his hair, playing with the few strands at the nape of his neck. He moaned softly, a smile spreading on your face that you realized that this man liked his hair being played with. He pulled away from you, his softened cock slipping from your swollen walls. You whimpered as he did so, feeling the mixture of cum already leaking from you. You blushed as you looked up at him, lowering your skirt. He only smirked up at you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You reached for your undergarments, pulling them up your bruised legs, trying to ignore the sticky liquid between your thighs as you fixed what was left of your skirts. Before you could even try to jump off the table, Sherlock was there, hands on your hips as he helped you down.

“Thank you.” You whispered, looking up at him. He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before on this man on his face. “I trust you.” You spoke, placing your hands on top of his. “I trust that you can find my brother.” The corner of his lip turned up.

“I trust that we can find your brother.” He corrected you.

Taglist: @thereisa8ella

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Forbidden Romance pt4 / On AO3

Lan Wangji was predictably furious when his brother confessed to him that he had everything that had happened in recent months. That anger was for the most directed toward Lan elders, but Lan Xichen felt his brother had to also be disappointed in him for making so many compromises. Had their places been reversed, Lan Wangji’s closed expression seemed to say, he would have stood for justice at any cost. Had it been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have dismissed this as an empty boast, the sort every cultivator would do when they weren’t in such a position. But this was Lan Wangji, and he bore on his back the proof of his dedication to his convictions even if it meant going against their elders, something Lan Xichen hadn’t had the strength to do.

Or perhaps it was just Lan Xichen’s guilt speaking. His brother only said a few words, having grown more silent than ever during his forced seclusion, but not a single one of those words aimed to condemn his brother. Instead he asked for details about the plot that had nearly killed Nie Mingjue, and asked why his brother had chosen to reveal all of this after keeping the secret for so long.

“Hm. Nie Huaisang,” was Lan Wangji’s only comment when Lan Xichen shared the plan hatched to protect his brother and his nephew.

His tone was neither warm nor cold, but it was knowing. It was not something the two of them had ever discussed, that shared preference for men. They had also never really talked about the targets of that preference, neither really understanding why the other would want such a partner, but trying to be supportive in spite of it.

“Are you sure?” Lan Wangji asked about the plan. That he needed to ask at all said a lot about the amount of trust he placed in Nie Huaisang’s word, Lan Xichen thought.

He couldn’t even blame his brother. Lan Xichen knew Nie Huaisang’s reputation as lazy and indolent, and wouldn’t argue that it wasn't at least somewhat justified. But weak cultivation and lack of taste for martial arts didn’t mean Nie Huaisang couldn’t be depended on when necessary.

“I’m sure,” Lan Xichen said.

It was enough for his brother, who expressed no further doubts.

Having agreed on a plan to follow, preparations were quickly made to allow Lan Wangji a chance to leave the Cloud Recesses undetected, and to ensure his departure wouldn’t be noticed too quickly. Lan Xichen gave his brother a hefty sum of money to cover any expenditures he might encounter on the way to Qinghe, as much food as he had been able to take without attracting attention, and his personal jade token so Lan Wangji could leave without going through the main gate.

Regarding Lan Yuan too, arrangements had been made. Lan Xichen had taken the child from his class that very afternoon, declaring that he intended on spending the next few days personally teaching him. Since the little boy was largely suspected of being Lan Wangji’s bastard son, it did not surprise anyone that Lan Xichen would wish to supervise his education.

He had worried that his uncle would notice Lan Yuan’s absence since they lived together, but Lan Qiren had been so busy these recently that Lan Xichen hardly ever saw him. And even if he noticed the child was missing, Lan Qiren would surely understand and hold his tongue. It was then only a matter of bringing the little boy to his father in the middle of the night, and wishing them both a safe journey. Lan Wangji had recuperated a great deal from his wounds, and though he wasn’t yet in perfect health, he was strong enough to arrive to Qinghe in a few days, even if he had to carry a child while flying.

For three days, Lan Xichen hid his brother’s escape. It took a little work to make sure meals appeared to have been consumed, but at least doctors no longer needed to attend Lan Wangji as frequently as they once did, and nobody else ever came to visit him.

On the morning of the fourth day, Lan Xichen dressed carefully to make himself look older and more respectable, and put on a guan that had once belonged to his grandfather. He opened the Hanshi’s determined to demand that the council meet him, so he could finally reveal everything he had learned about the plot against Nie Mingjue and force them to accept that their sect would be morally in the wrong if they persisted in refusing to choose a side. He would not back down, not this time. His brother, his best friend, and his true love were counting on him. Lan Xichen could not disappoint them, not again. He would…

“The elders are requesting your presence for a council,” a disciple informed him as soon as he stepped outside. “Some urgent news has arrived regarding recent events.”

A slight change of plan. Lan Xichen was equal parts aggravated and relieved. He would have liked to be the one making demands for once, but there was no certainty that the council of elders would have gathered merely because he asked for it.

Lan Xichen promptly made his way to meet the elders, and apologised for his tardiness when he entered the room where they had gathered. After exchanging a glance with his uncle, who appeared just as ignorant of this new matter, Lan Xichen went to sit at his place, on a dai that raised him above the elders. And yet, it was toward Lan Xiaofan that every eyes turned, knowing as they all did that his opinion held more weight than that of the boy they used as a figurehead.

“Two pieces of news have reached us early this morning,” Lan Xiaofan somberly announced. “The first is that Lanling Jin has also started speaking of going to war. They say Qinghe Nie has kidnapped their sect leader’s grandson and heir, Jin Ling.”

“A serious accusation,” Lan Xichen retorted, certain Nie Huaisang would have known about that if it were true, and that he would have warned him. “What proof is there?”

Lan Xiaofan hesitated, surprised by his sect leader’s defiant tone, or perhaps by the very fact that Lan Xichen would dare to speak without invitation.

“The proof is that the child is missing, and the Nie are their only enemies.”

“So we are to take the absence of proof as a proof?”

The old men glared at Lan Xichen, who innocently smiled at them in return. He’d never understood how some people could just say rude things, be wilfully insolent, or do whatever they pleased without consideration for the will of others, but he was starting to understand the thrill of it. There was something absolutely delicious in daring to say the things that were on his mind, instead of just reciting what he knew people wanted to hear.

It was addictive, and he suddenly felt new sympathy for Wei Wuxian.

“Nie Mingjue has gone mad, and is capable of nearly anything at this point,” someone said. “Even harming a child, if that’s what it takes to destroy the one sect that stands between him and power.”

“Da-ge isn’t doing this for power,” Lan Xichen protested.

“After he’s kidnapped that child, can you really believe his story about a murder attempt?”

“I do, and I know there was a witness to that attempt,” Lan Xichen proclaimed. “I have talked with him, he was there when it started, and helped me understand how the attempt was made.”

That, at last, silenced the elders. It gave Lan Xichen some hope. They weren’t enemies, he reminded himself, and they were not cruel by nature either. They were just trying to make the best possible decision for their sect, just like him, and when they were told with no uncertainty how the whole thing had unfolded, they would finally side with Nie Mingjue.

“Who is that witness?” Lan Qiren asked.

“Nie Mingjue’s own brother. He's heard me play Cleansing and was surprised to find it different from what Jin Guangyao had been playing for Da-ge. We talked about it, he shared the melody he remembers with me, and if you let me share it with you, you will surely agree that…”

“Well, that was the second news we wanted to discuss today,” Lan Xiaofan said. “Nie Mingjue has apparently found his brother conspiring against his life and imprisoned him.”

Lan Xichen’s blood turned to ice.

“That’s impossible,” he whispered, the words difficult to even get out. “Huaisang was just… and Da-ge trusts him. He knows Huaisang would never hurt him!”

“Nie Mingjue is unstable, and his brother was a little too fond of that Guangyao before this incident. Not to mention it could be that if there was an assassination attempt, might it not make more sense indeed if it came from within? They’re only half brothers, let’s not forget that. Nie Huaisang could easily have gotten involved into a coup against his brother, only to try and blame it on the Jins. But in the end, if they are torn apart it is no concern of ours.”

It was certainly Lan Xichen’s concern. He knew with the greatest certainty that Nie Huaisang would never do anything that might harm his brother, and it was something Nie Mingjue himself had professed more than once. Whenever he’d complained about his brother’s perceived failings as a cultivator and clan heir, he would always balance it out by saying that at least Nie Huaisang was loyal, and they that they lived in a world where that quality was to be cherished.

Nie Huaisang couldn’t have betrayed his brother.

As to whether Nie Mingjue might believe that he had… Before this whole debacle started, Lan Xichen would have found that equally impossible to imagine. But he’d seen the flashes of terror in Nie Huaisang whenever he’d spoken of his brother during their secret meetings, his ever growing desperation to quickly heal Nie Mingjue. And then there had been the way Nie Huaisang had clung to him when Lan Xichen had said they both needed to head home, as if something about returning to the Unclean Realm terrified him.

“Surely this whole situation has become complex enough that it needs to be investigated,” Lan Xichen insisted. “We keep hearing different versions of events from different parties. Since we have announced ourselves to be neutral, then naturally we ought to…”

“Neutrality might no longer be the better course of action,” Lan Xiaofan said. “Not when a child’s life is at stake, and Nie Mingjue is as unpredictable as a wounded beast. The Jins have been patient with us thus far, but they will not be forgiving if anything happens to their sect leader's grandson."

"But we don't even know…"

"Lan zongzhu has made his opinion clear,” Lan Xiaofan cut him with a glare. “He may now stay silent as his elders discuss the situation with judgement unclouded by old preferences."

If it had only been him and those elders, Lan Xichen would not have let himself be silenced in that manner. Not again, not anymore. Not when his brother was out of their reach at last, while Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue’s lives appeared in greater danger than ever before. But Lan Qiren, who was seated nearest to him, grabbed his wrist and looked at him in a manner that said the time for a fight hadn't come yet.

It struck Lan Xichen as odd. His uncle had, up to that point, made it clear to him that he would support his nephew, should he try to go against the council's wishes. He had promised he would find ways to keep Lan Wangji out of harm's way, at the cost of his own safety if need be. Lan Qiren had also been quite clear that out of the two sect leaders in conflict, he had always found Nie Mingjue to be the more honest one and could not imagine why that would have changed.

If his uncle suddenly no longer wished for direct opposition, he had to have his reasons. So Lan Xichen, with great effort, kept silent as old men discussed matters for which they refused to hear all the facts. It did not come as a surprise when, after wasting nearly all morning in useless arguments, they decided to remain neutral.

Unsurprising, but somehow disappointing. Had they sided with the Jins, Lan Xichen could have pretended a fit of anger and left to finally act as his conscience dictated. Instead, he would have to come up with a new plan to help his friend and his beloved.

As the council disbanded for the day, Lan Xichen started walking toward the Hanshi, wishing for a chance to be alone and think his next move. Before he had taken two steps, Lan Qiren grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him in another direction, away from most buildings.

"Let's go for a walk," Lan Qiren ordered as they passed by the elders. "I have a few things to say about your behaviour earlier."

Tempting as it was to refuse, Lan Xichen obediently followed, and tried to appear contrite at the perspective of a scolding. They walked together in silence, leaving behind the heart of the Cloud Recesses. The path had a certain familiarity to it, but Lan Xichen was so preoccupied that did not realise where they were headed until a small house came into view, isolated and surrounded by gentians.

Lan Xichen slowed, staring at his mother’s prison.

A terrifying thought immediately crossed his mind, about Wangji being caught, or getting wounded and being forced to secretly return to the Cloud Recesses, relying on their uncle to hide him. That house had sat untouched for years, young disciples avoided it if possible, elders behaved as if it didn't exist. Lan Wangji had been the only one to regularly come there to ensure it didn't fall in disrepair before his punishment, sometimes dragging Lan Xichen with him. Lan Qiren, certainly, had no love for that house, and wouldn't have come there unless forced.

"Do we have a guest, uncle?" Lan Xichen asked in an unsteady voice.

"Something of the sort. A visitor the elders need not know of."

Now in a near panic, Lan Xichen quickly made his way to the house, and opened the door without knocking. The house being small, there was only the one room, and nowhere to hide, so Lan Xichen could not have missed the sight of a young man seated on the bed. A young man who wasn’t Lan Wangji. In fact, it might have been generous to even call him a man when he could hardly be more than fourteen or fifteen, or more likely younger and just tall for his age.

The teenager looked away from the book he was reading, and his face was one that Lan Xichen had seen before, though not one he would have paid much attention to. If not for the bright yellow robes he wore, embroidered with a peony, Lan Xichen might not have guessed so quickly who he was.

“Xuanyu?” Lan Xichen gasped, before his eyes fell on the toddler currently napping on the teenager’s lap. “And is that Jin Ling?”

Mo Xuanyu grimaced and glanced at Lan Qiren who made a gesture his nephew didn’t quite see, all his attention being turned on Jin Ling.

“Well, you got one out of two right,” Mo Xuanyu announced with a smile that seemed familiar, though it did not belong on that face. “Not that I’d expect anyone to guess. Even Lan-xiansheng took some convincing, but I was able to share some details that only I would have known, so he…”

“Oh no,” Lan Xichen said, seized by a horrible doubt. It made no sense, except in the way that everything was such a mess lately, and kept getting worse and worse. “Oh no,” he repeated, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Wei Wuxian?”

Mo Xuanyu’s sheepish smile was an answer, but not the one Lan Xichen would have preferred to get.

#xisang #lan xichen #lan qiren #and others #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #forbidden romance au #I have an ending planned for this but I need to think up what comes in the middle lol #jau writes

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crimsonheart01 · 3 years

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Sugarplums (Oliver Wood x Female!Reader)

A/N: This is dedicated to @thegirlwhowritesfics and @juniperjane. No particular reason. None at all. It’s not like they were the ones to anonymously request this! This is just a random dedication of my love to them!

Prompt: “Are you humming the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy?” Word Count: 1.9K words Playlist: Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy - Tchaikovsky [Spotify] [YouTube] Warnings: None

“Statistically speaking, that’s impossible!” Her statement rang across several tables in the Great Hall.

She hadn’t yelled, but her voice carried. All the chatter and buzz came to an immediate halt, nothing but the sound of a bench scraping across the floor. She didn’t even bother looking up from the paper in her hand. She ducked her head down, rolling her lips together to hide the smirk growing. She chuckled to herself as she heard the collection of whispers make their way up the aisles between the tables.

He’d been arguing his point for weeks now, and while she appreciated his enthusiasm, it needed to end somewhere. Everyone knew it was impossible, himself included. Today seemed like a fine day to really rile him up. The final day of classes before Christmas hols, it was the perfect storm. It also helped that he was halfway there on his own anyway. His voice had been climbing up over the chatter from the Gryffindor table. She knew they were on his side. True to their namesake, the pride of lions always stuck together.

Regardless, she thoroughly enjoyed a good debate, especially with one such Gryffindor. Logic superseded a lot of their banter, but on this particular topic, he was a dog with a bone. Refusing to let go or give up. The sounds of his footfalls drifted up into the swirl of his robes while he walked. She knew he had a flair for the dramatic when he was on a tangent, and he was in peak form this morning.

Two of her classmates skirted in opposite directions on the bench across from her. Keen to avoid his approach. No one had ever challenged him in general. Not Oliver Wood, the headstrong Gryffindor. Not Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Not when it came to the one game he was being scouted for. The one game where his talent exceeded everyone’s expectations. Smarts aside, quidditch was his and most definitely, not hers.

“Strong words coming from someone who doesn’t even follow quidditch.” He accused, his voice low and on the verge of shaking.

She lifted her eyes to regard him, her face a mask of indifference, “You think that just because I don’t obsess over it, it means I don’t keep track of the most popular wizarding sport?”

He scoffed at her, reaching down and pressing his palm flat over the paper she held. Their eyes connected as he hovered over the Ravenclaw table, pushing the paper down so that she would give him his undivided attention. She made a show of blinking innocently up at him. He narrowed his eyes briefly, starting to understand the game she was initiating.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He determined, licking his bottom lip in irritation.

A collective gasp could be heard amongst the other students, even a few smug sniffs from the Gryffindor table. Head Girl and the Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team in a tiff. In front of all to see. Every eye in the castle trained on the two of them. Even the teachers were straining to listen in. She chuckled to herself. She wondered how many of them were hedging their bets. It was common knowledge to the older students that the professors got a good laugh out of the typical house rivalries. They joined in on their own terms, always in good fun—a way to keep up morale and to encourage healthy competition.

She tugged her hand out from under his grip and finally lifted her head to acknowledge him fully. The torch he held for Portree was misguided in his patriotism, believing beyond any doubt that they were taking the world cup this year. It was the only time he became irrational about how the game really worked. She enjoyed his dedication to his country’s national team and his childhood favourite team, but again, this argument was weeks old now, and they weren’t advancing anywhere near the top of the league. Not this year.

“Puddlemere has a higher scoring average. Their Chasers score an average of 215 each game, without calculating in the caught snitch points. Even if Portree won their next game by 150 points, they’re still fourth in the league overall.” She dismissively explained, “You saying that they’re on track to come first is like saying the Canons will win their next game. It’s statistically impossible.”

Everyone knew the Canons were just a filler team. They hadn’t won a game in the last century and weren’t likely to win one in the next. She gave him a smug grin as she laid it all out for him. He narrowed his eyes at her, curling his hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white. He knew she was right but didn’t want to admit defeat. Oh no, not him. Not the quidditch all-knowing, Oliver Wood. He could never.

“Scoring average aside,” He countered, “Their newest recruits for the season have played well beyond any expectations, and they still have chance on their side. If Puddlemere loses the next two games, regardless of points, they drop out of the winning and it makes room for the other teams to move up.”

He stood up, straightening his back and crossed his arms over his chest. Proud of his statement, of his deductions. She let out a condescending laugh at his stance, looking back down at her empty plate for a second. When she glanced back up, she could see his resolve starting to crumble. He was doing the math in his head. He’d figured out that he was off base. That even though he had faith, the numbers weren’t on his side.

“You want to place your faith on the best team in the British league losing their next two games? Even after they’ve won every single one up until this point. You want to ride on the fact that they might choke? A maybe?” She cocked her head to the side, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him, “Care to place a wager on that?”

Her eyebrows lifted into her hairline as she stared at him, strongarming him to make the losing bet or admit defeat. The hall fell into a tense silence, waiting for the outcome. She was sure others had caught up with the data, the proof that Pride of Portree wasn’t winning any cups this year.

He faltered, and everyone saw it. Everyone saw the fall in his confidence. The whispers grew again, as those who knew about quidditch were informing those who weren’t avid fans. Oliver took a deep breath in and stared over at her, shocked that he’d been beaten at the game. Mostly because he’d been beaten by the least likely person he expected it from.

In hindsight, he should’ve known she’d be the only one to best him. She always did. She was the only person who could. It was why he loved her. She could go up against the best in any debate and come out victorious. Without a chance to rectify his downfall, the bells rang, signalling breakfast over and time to get on to their classes.

Excitement rose into the air as benches scratched along the stone floors and books were scraped up off the tables. She grinned up at Oliver, and he shook his head, a small smile creeping in. He turned around and headed back to his table to gather his effects before exiting the hall. He could feel the stares of the younger students were giving him. All the while, they were murmuring behind their hands to one another. The “it” couple of the year had a public row. Little did they all know, it was a ploy. One that she put into place to get him to see reality. There was never a hint of animosity between them, and even if there had been, it dissipated when she thoroughly bested him in his top subject.

~(HP)~

Students continued to file out of the great hall, the volume of their conversations rising as they retold the events of breakfast. Several versions began circulating, all from a different house’s perspective. She enjoyed hearing the snippets as she travelled along the sides of the table. Every version with its own telling features. Quite a few long sighs from the younger kids about how romantic it all was. A few chest thumps from the older ones who defended Wood’s devotion. Almost everyone with a quiet whispered holiday wish that they would find someone to share in their passions as equally as they did with each other.

She found him standing a ways outside the opened doors and grinned over at him. In her glory, she kept up a quiet tune while she strolled in his direction. Something about the electricity in the air had her feeling light. Upon reaching him, she lifted up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Are you humming the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy?” He asked, mystified at how her genuine good mood had him feeling uplifted even after that spectacular defeat, “It’s incredibly ominous considering our current situation.”

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. He sighed but smiled over at her. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder while his arm slipped around her middle and clung to her. He tilted his head so that his laid on top of hers while they stood admiring the snowy grounds.

“I’m never going to live this down,” He murmured to her.

She nodded, “Oh, I know.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. If there was anyone in this castle that could school him in the sport of his passion, it was her, hands down—the only person to be able to keep up with him on statistics and gameplay. Even the most die-hard fans couldn’t retain the same amount of knowledge she did. There were times when even she gave him a run for his money. He had to give kudos to her house. She was most definitely sorted correctly. After a long moment, they both turned together and began walking down the corridor towards their next class.

“I guess I’ll have to get you a new present now,” He sighed, purposely sounding forlorn.

She furrowed her brows as she glanced up at him, “Why’s that?”

He frowned, “I can’t very well gift you with a Portree jersey that has my name emblazoned across the back when you don’t even support the team, now can I.”

She stopped abruptly and grabbed his hand, tugging him around to face her. He trained his face into a cool mask of disinterest, hoping that she could piece it together herself.

“Ollie, what are you saying?” She bit her lip, the shock of his statement settling in.

He smirked at her, and she squealed, jumping up to gather him in her arms.

“They signed you!” She whispered excitedly into his chest, “You got first draft! You’re going to be the Keeper for Portree? To think, the term is barely over, and they’ve already committed!”

He laughed along with her, keeping his arms tight around her back. He held her close to him, enjoying how thrilled she was for his news. It was an anxiety he’d had since the end of last year, but thankfully all the extra training he put in over the summer and with the first few games of the year under his belt, the recruiters were impressed and offered him an early contract.

When she let go of him, she held his biceps tightly and grinned, “I’ll proudly wear the losing team’s jersey if it has your name on it.”

His mouth dropped open in disbelief, but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

He took her hand in his, threading their fingers together and held his head high, “With me as their keeper, we won’t be the losing team anymore.”

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood imagines #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #12 days of ficmas 2020 #holiday prompts #yes i know the gif is of the slytherin quidditch team #don't come for me #it was the best one I could find that I liked #lmao

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

Felix July - Growing Up (Felix Culpa alternative for Ladybug)

@felixmonth

Alya was planning to solve a mystery and prove her best friend’s innocence.

Felix was regretting his life choices and questioning if it was too late to transfer schools.

“Starting the investigation into ‘Who Framed Marinette.’” Alya announced into her recorder. “I am Alya Cesaire, the lead investigator. With me is my humble sidekick, Felix Argent.”

“Is this necessary?” Felix asked, already tired despite not having done anything as Alya had started searching over the locker room

“Of course it is!” She snapped back. “We’re the only ones who can help Marinette get unexpelled. So we need to find the truth and discover the real culprit.”

“Which is Rossi.”

She ignored him.

“So we just need to check the clues and gather evidence to find out who did it.”

“Here’s a hint: it was Rossi.”

Still ignoring him. Honestly, he was no help.

“The first accusation was the answer sheet in her bag. It had to have been taken after the test, so Marinette couldn’t have had it then.” She reasoned. “That means that whoever took it had to have done so later and then put the test key in Marinette’s bag.”

“Maybe it was the ‘anonymous tipster’, who was the only person who apparently knew they were in there.” Felix suggested.

“But who could that have been?” Alya wondered.

“Wild guess: Rossi.”

Why did she recruit him again?

She shot a glare at him. “Could you try actually being helpful?”

Felix gave her a blank stare as he began to speak in what was clearly a sarcastic manner. “My, whoever could it possibly have been? Certainly not the only other person Bustier sent to the Principal’s office with Dupain-Cheng in the first place?”

Sigh, he really was holding onto his belief about Lila being responsible.

“Okay, now you’re being impossible. Lila had the lowest score on the test.” She pointed out.

“Yes,” he drawled sarcastically, “because it’s not like we just confirmed that the answer sheet was stolen after the test and thus of no use to anyone. Or that Rossi couldn’t have intentionally faked her grade on a test that didn’t matter anyway in order to make herself appear less suspicious.”

“We’re just going to ignore Snarky McKnow-it-all.” She muttered into the recording.

“That doesn’t make me not right.” He called out behind her.

“Then there’s the necklace in Marinette’s locker…” She moved to the locker in question and tested it. Sure enough, it opened right up, revealing the contents—or lack thereof since Marinette was forced to remove them all when she was expelled. Alya even tested the nearby lockers and got the same result. They were all easily opened by anyone.

“These lockers don’t have locks or any way to secure them.” Alya noted into the recorder. “Anyone could have gotten inside and planted the necklace.”

“You mean like the one person who KNEW the necklace would be in Marinette’s locker.” Felix chimed in. “Which was again, Rossi.”

“It had to have been a mistake.”

“She said she SAW Marinette put it in her locker. Why she didn’t get someone immediately and only brought it up AFTER everything else is likely because she was using it as a trump card.”

“Just going to discard my sidekick’s wild conspiracy theories.” Alya said into the recorder, smirking momentarily at Felix’s scoff from behind her. “It’s possible that Lila might have just seen someone who looked like Marinette taking grandmother’s necklace and putting it in her locker.”

“If it IS her grandmother’s necklace.” Felix commented dryly. “A little hard to believe that something from last year’s Gabriel line could have been around long enough to be considered an heirloom.”

She turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Since when are you an expert on jewelry?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because it’s not like a model would know about the latest fashion lines.”

Alya shrugged and looked away.

“Feel free to not question it.” He muttered darkly. “It’s only potential evidence.”

A few more minutes of the two searching the room warranted little other insights or clues. The same was true of the now empty classroom as they investigated the area around Bustier’s desk and Marinette’s seat.

Well, Alya investigated. Felix simply stood nearby being his snarky and unhelpful self.

Like usual.

“It has to be someone who has it out for Marinette…” She reasoned.

“Like Rossi.”

She started to pace. “Someone who could have had the time and access to Marinette’s bag and her locker.”

“Such as Rossi.”

“Someone who could have disguised themselves, perhaps? Or knew everyone’s routines well enough to get in while no one else was around.”

“Maybe you should start by investigating Rossi?” Felix suggested dryly. “Since she was the only other person involved?”

She whirled on him, finally having enough. “Could you come up with someone BESIDES Lila?”

Honestly, what was his deal? He’d always been a jerk, but he’d had a particular distaste for Lila from day one. Alya personally questioned if it wasn’t due to a crush.

She may need to investigate further…

“What reasoning do you have that Rossi couldn’t have done this?” He questioned. “Besides your own fervent belief that ‘she wouldn’t do that’ or that she’s ’too nice’. Because as it stands, there is no reason NOT to consider her.”

“Well, where’s yours?” She shot back. “You’re the one so insistent that Lila had to have done it! What proof do YOU have?”

Felix sighed and raised his hand, counting with his fingers. “There are three accusations here. One, that Dupain-Cheng stole test answers. Two, that she pushed Rossi down the stairs. And three, that she stole Rossi’s ‘family heirloom’. All three of which, Rossi was both the accuser and the only witness for.”

He gave Alya a dry look.

“So why, exactly, is Rossi NOT a suspect?”

“Because Lila wouldn’t do something like that!” Alya, insisted.

Why would she? Lila was awesome and amazing. She would never steal anything. And she would certainly never try to get anyone in trouble.

Felix was far from impressed.

“We only have two ways this story can go. One, that Rossi was telling the truth, meaning that she indeed saw Dupain-Cheng take the test answers and cheat on the test, push Rossi down the stairs, and that steal Rossi’s necklace. Or two, that Dupain-Cheng was telling the truth and Rossi lied about those three things.

“In order for Rossi’s claims to be true, that would have to mean that Dupain-Cheng is guilty. In order for Dupain-Cheng to be innocent, that would have to mean that Rossi gave false testimony. You can’t have it both ways here.

“So tell me, Cesaire…what makes you so unwilling to consider that Rossi may be suspect? If you truly with to be an investigator, you must be impartial and accept the evidence as it is. On all sides. Everyone is a suspect.”

Alya was quiet.

Felix gave her a dark glare. “You want to be Sherlock Holmes here. Surely you know his stance that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains—however improbable, must be the truth.”

“But we haven’t eliminated every possibility yet!” Alya argued, growing increasingly agitated. Part of her was questioning her earlier decision to drag Felix along in her investigation. However, the guy was smart and at this point, he was also the only other person who openly voiced support of Marinette’s innocence. Surely if they had a similar goal, they could work together to find the truth.

The only problem was that they had completely different opinions on what the truth could be.

Or rather what they wanted it to be.

“It’s Rossi. It is very clearly Rossi. You have to be completely oblivious to NOT realize it’s Rossi.”

Alya spun around and glared back at the smug, arrogant jerk with a superiority complex.

“You’ve hated Lila since day one! You’re just looking for reasons to blame her! Here you are telling me I need to be impartial when you’re the one being biased!”

“Biased?” He laughed. “Do you even know what bias is, Cesaire? Bias is bringing in the parents of only one of the two arguing parties and forcing them to miss out on valuable work time to keep their small business going while the other guardian isn’t even notified. Bias is taking one person at her word of being attacked without doing anything to evaluate her or get her supposed ‘injuries’ checked out to confirm they exist. Bias is publicly humiliating a student first by accusing them in front of a class and then expelling them solely on the word of another and circumstantial evidence that could very well have been planted to frame them—all without so much as a hearing, which IS required by law!”

He glowered at her. “Rossi already has enough bias to protect her. She doesn’t need your bias as well, especially if truth is really what you seek here.”

“And where’s your proof?” Alya questioned, now on the defensive. Do you even have reason to suspect Lila or are you just wanting her to be responsible?”

“I’m at least looking at facts. You, on the other hand, are so biased in her favor that you’re discounting the clear evidence just because it implicates her.”

She scoffed. “What evidence?”

What was there that actually implicated Lila? She was just a victim in all of this! Sure, the school wasn’t fair to Marinette, but that was why Alya was helping! That didn’t mean Lila was behind anything!

Felix frowned, stepping closer to her and holding up three fingers. “Cheating on a test, stealing, and pushing someone down the stairs. Any one could be considered an accident or a mistake. But three different accusations all claimed by one person and all in the span of a single day? Rossi was clearly and specifically targeting Marinette.”

“That’s not true!” Alya argued.

“What other reason could there be for this?” Felix demanded, clearly annoyed and frustrated and wanting to be done with this entire conversation.

“There has to be someone else behind it!”

“There IS no one besides Rossi!” Felix bit back. “Even if you argue that someone else could have planted the test answers and necklace, that doesn’t explain how she KNEW where they were or why she chose to openly and publicly implicate Marinette if there could be doubt to her being the one to do these things!”

Alya bit her lip.

“Furthermore,” Felix continued, “there is no other logical explanation for the stairs incident.”

“It could have been an accident.” Alya deduced. “Marinette is clumsy. She could have tripped and pushed Lila without meaning to.”

“Except Marinette denies she even touched Rossi. Is Marinette really the sort of person to push someone down the stairs and deny having done so it if it was an accident?”

Alya couldn’t deny that because Marinette wouldn’t. If Marinette DID hurt someone by accident, she would have immediately admitted to it and done everything she could to try and help the person.

“Maybe someone else pushed Lila—”

“Marinette and Rossi were the only two in the hallway. If there had been a third person, Marinette would have seen them and would have said as such. But she didn’t. She said Rossi walked down those stairs calmly, laid down at the bottom, and only then started screaming.”

“She could have been confused!” Alya rebutted. “She was stressed and overwhelmed given the first accusation. She could have been looking away when Lila fell.”

“She said she saw Rossi walk down the stairs before she suddenly started screaming and claiming to be injured. And speaking of evidence, what were Rossi’s injuries from the stairs?”

Alya frowned, thinking back. “She had a bandage on her leg...”

“A single bandage.” Felix deadpanned. “Over her pants covering the ‘injured’ knee. Was she taken to the hospital? Was she seen by the nurse? Was there any confirmation of her having injuries besides her claiming to be in pain in a single spot?” He sneered. “Because it is rather fortuitous that someone would fall down a flight of stairs and receive no bumps, bruises, scrapes, or other injuries aside from some knee pain. Unless you’re saying physics would allow that.”

Alya drew back, curling in on herself.

Felix glared. “You are no Sherlock. You aren’t even a Watson. You are just someone so blinded by a bias that you would rather neglect evidence than give it your all for the sake of your other friend.”

“That’s not true!” She shouted, hurt. “I just…I just don’t want to…”

Oh.

…oh.

He closed his eyes. Rested his hand against his forehead.

So it was like that. How could he have overlooked this?

Cesaire was friends with two girls who could not get along and were in direct conflict with each other. She didn’t accept Marinette’s claims that Rossi was a liar, but she wasn’t willing to believe that Marinette would do the things Rossi claimed, either. She was…

He opened his eyes.

Depending on the outcome, this could make or break her friendship with either. Even if it was the “right” thing to do or the “truth”, it still stood to reason that Cesaire would feel hurt by it and lose a friend because of it.

And she was desperately trying to find a way to be able to believe in both.

Understandable.

Commendable, even.

But ultimately foolish. And more harmful than simply accepting the truth and choosing a side now. Sooner or later, this situation would tear her apart and force her to choose. And when the time came, the circumstances would escalate to such a point that it would be all the more likely she would not only choose wrong, but also be dragged down by it.

Felix would know. He had been in that position before.

He sighed. “Cesaire, I understand that when you have two people you care about at odds, you want to be able to keep both. But there’s going to come a point where you will have to take a side.”

The way things were going, she wasn’t going to be able to remain friends with both, not without ultimately losing them both anyway.

“Neutrality is just a way of not making a decision.“

“You sound like you speak from experience.” She commented, seeming subdued.

He paused at that.

Memories came to mind. Of a cold man. Of a sad woman. Of being surrounded by people who poked and prodded and pushed and pulled and twisted until he was shaped as they pleased. He was dragged into a life and lifestyle he never wanted, forced into a role without his say. It was only once he finally spoke up and chose to assert himself that things had changed.

And he realized something…

Part of growing up meant having to make choices and take accountability for those choices. Even not making a choice was in itself a choice, if only one of indifference or unwillingness to act.

That was why…

“What ended up happening?” She asked him.

“I tried not to choose until the decision was made for me. And by then it was too late. That was a choice I never wanted and the cost was time I will never be able to get back.”

It would remain one of his regrets for the rest of his life.

“You have to face facts here.” He told her sternly. “Their stories directly contradict each other. They can’t both be telling the truth.”

“I know.” She quietly admitted.

He nodded. “You have two people making different claims about the other. Rossi says Marinette bullied her. Marinette says that Rossi is making it all up. Both of them can’t be right.“

“But both can be wrong.”

“Unlikely.”

“But still possible!” She insisted, remaining stubborn. “Maybe Lila just saw someone she thought was Marinette? Or someone could have tried to frame Marinette by fooling Lila?“

“Except that Rossi is very clear that it was Marinette she saw. The test answers were found in Marinette’s bag. The necklace was found in Marinette’s locker. And there was no one else in the hallway to push Rossi down the stairs.”

He rubbed his forehead.

”It comes to the same problem. Either Rossi is lying about Marinette, or Marinette really did do those things.“

”It could have been an akuma.” She suggested.

But he nixed that as well. “There wouldn’t have been enough time. Even during the attack on Heroes Day, there was a good hour between the time we saw that fake fight between the heroes and the attack of the scarlet butterflies. But here, the scarlet butterflies attacked almost immediately. As if they knew this was going to happen.”

Alya gaped. “That just means this was part of Hawk Moth’s plan!“

He frowned, actually curious. “Indeed. But how did he know it would happen?”

She looked away, considering. “Either he made an akuma to set up Marinette…”

“Which wouldn’t account for the timing of all three accusations or Lila’s involvement in those accusations.” He cut in. “And it just doesn’t seem possible with the short length of time between when the last point the akuma could have been there to push Rossi down the stairs and for the scarlet moths to attack.”

“Or…” Alya took a breath. “Or it was planned with one of the two individuals involved.”

He nodded. “And between Marinette and Rossi, which of the two honestly seems to be the more likely culprit. Which of the two of them had more to gain from the events today? Or at least less to lose from it?”

Alya grimaced and slumped onto the bench.

She knew.

She already knew that answer.

“Cesaire…” Felix softly called.

Heh. Funny. He almost sounded like he cared.

“I don’t want to lose a friend.“ She quietly admitted.

Felix sat next to her on the bench. “But if she’s been lying to you all this time, is she really a friend?”

She chuckled bitterly. “Is that why you never liked her?”

He couldn’t help the smirk. “My first day here, Marinette was trying to convince me to give everyone in the class a chance while Rossi was trying to convince me she was some sort of celebrity who could offer me connections I already had.”

Alya snorted at that. “She didn’t!”

He adjusted his shirt cuffs blithely. “Needless to say, I was wary of anything she had to say after that. Though I will admit that I still would never have considered her working with Hawk Moth.”

She laughed. A little bit in humor. A little bit in disgust. Even a little bit in relief that she finally had an answer, even if it wasn’t one she liked.

Speaking of answers though…

“Hey! I just realized!” She exclaimed as she spun on Felix.

He leaned away in wariness. There was a gleam in her eyes he wasn’t sure he liked.

“You’ve been calling Marinette by her first name!”

“And? It is her name, is it not?”

“You don’t call anyone by their first names!”

“Dupain-Cheng is a mouthful.”

“It’s the same number of syllables as Marinette!”

He looked away in annoyance.

“She is tolerable.”

She leaned closer to him, looking particularly smug. Felix immediately stood and turned away. Alya was certain he was blushing and trying to hide it.

Alya smirked. Did he really have a crush after all?

“Don’t you have a case to be investigating and a friend’s innocence to prove?” He questioned, still refusing to face her.

Oh, she certainly did.

But once this was over and certain liars were dealt with…

She was going to make Felix’s heart her next investigation!

#ml fic #felix culpa #pv felix #felix au #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #lila sucks #ladybug episode #felix month #felix july

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snow-leopard-7772point0 · 4 years

Text

I'll Change My Crown, from Light to Dark

The akuma landed on Marinette's windowsill, the girl not even noticing as she sat in the tattered remnants of her designs. Luckily she had dropped off most of her completed works the day before to be delivered to the appropriate patrons, though everything she had yet to send off was ripped, cut, burned, there wasn't a scrap of cloth that was usable for anything but as a guide for buying more. Her sketchbook was in shreds on the floor, paper scattered like confetti over the remaining slivers of all her hard work.

The akuma danced in place. It's master was urging it to go forward, to possess the girl, but… there were so many objects to choose from! Should it just possess the entire room? The sewing machine? One little scrap of fabric? A piece of paper? What about her emotions? This butterfly had made some of the strongest akumas to date, though the strength behind her feelings was astromically larger than any other person they had targeted. The little insect itself was slightly afraid to act as a bridge for her. It finally flew forward, choosing the scraps of the dress the girl had been making herself for the Wayne gala.

Marinette froze when her emotions intensified, hearing Hawkmoth cooing in her ear. "Greetings, Mistress Hawthorne. They all accuse you of being the bully, of being a liar, never paying attention to the proof you give them. They destroyed your designs, your livelihood, and expect to get away scott free. I'm giving you the ability to turn all your ruined dreams into hawthorn bushes that force people to see the truth, whether they can accept it or not. No more hiding behind lies or masks, everyone will have to be honest and pay for their crimes. All I ask in return is for Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous."

"I refuse, Hawkmoth "

The villain froze for a second. Only one other person had ever resisted him so easily, and that was due to her love for Ladybug. Nothing about Marinette Dupain-Cheng screamed that she truly cared for the heroes, so why would she resist? He was giving her the perfect way to get revenge! If he didn't fear that it would give the heroes a clue to his identity, he wouldn't have even asked for the Miraculous for this offence! "Why do you refuse? Imagine how great it will feel, trapping them in their castle with your thorns until the truth comes out!"

"Oh, make no mistake, revenge will be divine. But I'm already looking at little to no sleep for the foreseeable future so that I can press charges against them, email all my patrons whose clothes were destroyed about the delay, buy all the fabric to remake their outfits, and get my own dress together for the Wayne gala. Luckily I'm not starting completely over with it, their mindless destruction gave me an idea for my dress, but there is still much to do. I have no time to become an akuma, I have to get to work immediately, and it will be tomorrow before my classmates are all in the same place again."

"What… what if I didn't ask for the Miraculous in return, and you miss a few days of school to get everything completed?

"While missing school may become a necessity before everything is over and done with, I still have much to do. It would take far too long to force the truth out of Lila Rossi, and I am uncertain if Ladybug's Miracle Cure would erase any progress I made on designing as an akuma. You seem like a reasonable businessman, I'm sure you understand."

"Ah, yes, I do, actually. Cut me some slack here, I've been trying to akumatize you for over a year now! What kind of cloth are you cut from?"

"A different kind from my classmates. I refuse to stoop to their level. Besides, I have pride in the fact that I am not helpless, and the costumes I see akumatized people in are atrocious. Please have a nice day, but I do need to get to work."

"I-very well then. Good luck. Please at least make your classmates suffer."

Marinette's smirk alone was fuel to create a fear-based akuma. "They'll pay. But on my terms." The purple butterfly left her dress, and Marinette caught herself as she slumped to the floor. Resisting Hawkmoth had taken much more out of her than she had anticipated.

⏳

Gabriel rose from the underground room, surprising Nathalie. "Sir, surely she didn't-"

"No, Nathalie, she didn't loose. She didn't even accept my offer. I even offered to not require the Miraculous this time, but she still refused. Her mental strength is highly admirable, especially when her guard is at its lowest. She would be a great asset to us."

"In what manner?"

"Any way I can get her. She is one of the best designers I have seen in a long time, especially at her age. I caught a glimpse of her revenge plan when my akuma possessed her and it was astoundingly terrible, and she is kind and independent enough to make an amazing daughter."

"Sir, kidnapping is illegal."

"I don't have to kidnap her, I'll throw Adrien at her." Gabriel started to wave his hand in dismissal, then noticed the look on Nathalie's face.

"Sir, I think you should watch the rest of this." Nathalie walked forward, bringing up the video from earlier. Gabriel had only watched a second of it before rushing to his butterflies, it was easy to recognize the girl's room by her designs. He'd been gunning for her since she lied to him to help keep Adrien in school and made the feathered hat. Her spirit and dedication let him know that she could be a great ally or terrible enemy. She didn't (yet) have the money or power to come after Gabriel Agreste on her own, but he was certain that the girl was being considered for a Miraculous. He knew she didn't already have one, she hadn't responded to Miracle Queen, after all, but several of her classmates had used one. He actually paid attention to the video this time, watching all the way through. The first people seen on camera were the blogger girl and Lila Rossi, several other classmates cropping up through the video. He didn't notice Timebreaker, Evilillstrator, or the Bourgeois girl, though he did see his own son halfway through the recording, happily cutting at a gown that had been carefully beaded with a hawthorn pattern with a pair of scissors, cutting off the beads and chunks of fabric.

Gabriel's frown deepened. "Cut all ties to Lila Rossi immediately. We will be making a public apology, telling the public that we did not know of her abhorrent tendencies, nor did we expect her to pull Adrien into her schemes. Adrien will be appropriately punished, and we will offer Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng compensation for the destruction of her property, along with a small team of designers that will know to make every stitch to her preference, no matter their opinion on the piece."

"Of course, sir. How would you like to make your statement to the public?"

"Call that news anchor, Najda Chamack, and ask her to come here. I will speak to her in person as soon as she is available. I also want the apology posted to every social media outlet we use, including our official website."

"Sir, is this not overkill? This isn't Audrey Bourgeois."

Gabriel glared at Nathalie. "No, she is not. She designs for more famous people than Audrey does. She is the main designer for the Wayne gala this year. Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Tsurugi Tomoe, even the Wayne's commissioned her work. All of her designs are paid for in a split payment plan, the money for the materials is required upfront while the rest of the payment can wait until after the person received their design to make sure it is what they want. That means there will very likely be several highly influential individuals and families gunning for us because of Rossi and my son."

Nathalie paled. She hadn't imagined that the small girl who stumbled and stuttered every time she saw her would have that kind of power backing her. Everyone knew that the girl had Jagged Stone backing her, MDC was his main designer for everything and anyone who personally met the girl and the rocker knew who MDC was, especially since they were supposed to have their identity reveal at the Wayne gala. Jagged Stone by himself would be bad and the company would take a hit, though she was positive Marinette would stop him before he went too far. But with so many others working with Jagged… Gabriel (the company) would not survive.

"I will get everything arranged." Nathalie quickly left the office.

⏳

Marinette's first order of business was to email all of the clients affected by her classmates's actions. She informed them that they did not need to worry, as she was suing all the students for the costs of what they destroyed- not just materials, but labor as well, and would be buying new material for their clothes out of her own pocket until she got retribution. She also informed them that their orders would come in slightly later than planned, though not by much. Clara, Jagged, Kagami and her mother, and the Wayne's all responded to her email with assurances that things happened and to take her time. Bruce Wayne offered to delay the gala so that she would have plenty of time to rectify the situation, though she was quick to assure him that it was not necessary.

Her next order of business was cleanup. She collected every scrap of fabric big enough to make so much as a small patch or strip and sat them in a small box next to where her personal dress was. Everything else was collected and thrown in the trash. She dug out her receipts for all the fabrics destroyed, including the fabrics for projects intended for her classmates. She quickly pulled up the video Alya had posted, writing down who destroyed what. She matched the fabrics to the people, then calculated the time she would have spent on each piece. She reviewed the video one more time, noticing that none of the art students, including Chloè, were in the video. Though it was to be expected. The whole class knew how important all art was to the art students; those students would have stopped them if they were in the know. Chloè was not only in the art club, but also still exiled from the class, though her relationship with Marinette had gone from bully to ally. They still weren't friends, but they stuck together against most of the class, only Nathaniel and Alix leaving them alone. The class may have had five braincells in the entire room, Chloè, Marinette, Alix, and Nathaniel each having one all to themselves while the rest of the class, including Madame Bustier, shared the other one, but they used that one braincell to know who could be brought in on a scheme like this.

Marinette had just finished calculating who she would she for what and was on her way to buy fabrics when her phone rang. She grabbed it as she opened her hatch, activating her recording app as she answered. "Hello?"

"Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, it has come to my attention that Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi have vandalized your property. Lila Rossi has already been terminated and Adrien will face suitable punishment for his actions. I wish for you to come by the manor at your earliest convenience for us to discuss payment."

"If you're free now, I was just about to head out."

"Of course. I'll send a car for you."

"Merci, Monsieur Agreste." Marinette pocketed her phone and made copies of the expenses each of her classmates would be charged. She had no way of knowing where, exactly, Gabriel Agreste stood, but she refused to leave anything to chance. The original, along with the receipts, was stored in her diary box while one copy was left on her desk and another found its home in her purse. She stopped by the kitchen to inform her parents that she was headed to the Agreste Manor and would explain later before walking out to wait on the car.

⏳

Adrien was smiling after school. He had never realized how freeing it was to tear clothes apart, especially clothes made by someone who refused to listen to him. Marinette deserved everything she got, plus some. He wondered what of hers he could destroy next.

He was surprised when he returned home to see his father glaring at him from in front of the stairwell. "We need to have a talk, son." The designer's voice promised pain. "About your friends and actions today."

Adrien stared at his father, confused. "Why? What happened?"

Gabriel growled. "Nathalie."

"Sir?"

"Show him the video, then leave us to our discussion."

"Yes sir." Nathalie quickly pulled up the video of the class destroying Marinette's designs and held the tablet out to Adrien before taking her leave.

Adrien watched the video, unable to understand what had angered his father. "Do you understand what you have done?" Gabriel demanded.

Adrien shrugged. "I got payback. She wouldn't listen to me when I told her to lay low, so I decided to help the class teach her a lesson."

Gabriel coldly glared at his son. "You have cost me over a thousand dollars just in the hours that girl put into her work. That does not include the cost of the materials, deformation of private property, or potential unlawful entry and vandalism charges. How do you know that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is not currently an akuma gunning for your head? Or that her clients aren't going to press charges? Her clientele could ruin your entire class, your entire school, with a single phone call."

Adrien scoffed. "She doesn't have that many big clients. Just Jagged Stone. And Marinette can't get akumatized. She's too stubborn to listen to anyone."

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Adrien, I'll tell you this as your classmate is revealing it in less than a month. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been taking the world of fashion by storm while using her initials, MDC. Only certain celebrities and rich people know who she is, mainly people she has worked or designed for. Jagged Stone is the first and main one, yes. But Clara Nightingale has been using her more and more. MDC is the main designer for the Wayne gala, not only Monsieur Stone and Mademoiselle Nightingale commissioning her, but the Tsurugi family and the Wayne family, along with several friends and supporters of the four families. Aubrey Bourgeois supports her, perhaps even more than she supports me, and I have admired several of her pieces done for contests."

Blood began to drain from Adrien's face, though Gabriel doubted that the boy fully understood anything yet. "Her mother's best friend is Najda Chamack, and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng babysits her child. Her uncle is a famous chef who loves his family dearly, especially since his great niece learned Mandarin to be able to talk to him and help him with his French. Alix Kubdel is friends with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, and also comes from a respectable family- as well as Chloè Bourgeois becoming her ally after she helped with her mother. Not to mention that the Dupain-Cheng family is not hurting for money, as they are the best and most popular bakery in Paris. They get orders from all over the city, plus serve at almost every party that has edible food. You attacked the livelihood of one of the most powerful children in Paris. Not only that, but you destroyed the property of some of the most prolific people in the world." Adrien's face had lost all traces of blood, though Gabriel did not expect it to be from shame. No, his son was afraid because he had been caught. "You will not return to school until Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng has revealed herself as MDC to the world, nor will you have access to any of your social media, messages, or phone. You may return to being homeschooled. I shall have to reassess the situation at a later date. If I do allow you to return to school, it will not be François-DuPont. You will drop contact with your current classmates. You are dismissed." Gabriel turned from his son, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

⏳

Marinette was escorted straight to Gabriel's office upon arrival. The man shook her hand before gesturing for her to take a seat. "Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, my assistant showed me the video of what your classmates did. My sincerest apologies. I assure you that my son is currently being punished and Mademoiselle Rossi's contract has been terminated. I also wanted to offer you compensation for your loss as well as a team of designers that will follow your instructions to the last stitch."

Marinette eyed the elder Agreste. "What do you want in return?"

Gabriel blinked at the girl. He knew she was smart, though he hadn't expected her to ask that. "For this? Nothing. My son deserves every lawsuit you draw up. I remember what it was like when I was first starting my company; something like this would have been devistating."

"Well, Monsieur, covering everything will not be necessary. I have already calculated the damages each student did and how much they owe for it. I am not holding you responsible for the actions of any of my classmates, not even Agreste or Rossi. I'm sure you have paid your son for working for you," Marinette felt viciously victorious when he nodded, "in which case he should be able to pay for damages himself. The same holds true for Rossi; she was a contract model for your company and was paid as such. They should both be able to afford my work- custom or not."

"Might I see what you've drawn up? I heard from Aubrey that you have a tendency to undercharge for your work, and, as you just said, my son and former employee should be able to afford your work. The beaded dress my son ruined, for example, should cost twenty-five hundred dollars, bare minimum. I would charge much more than that, especially with how much work is put behind hand-beading." Marinette could do nothing but gape at her childhood idol. She had been expecting a bribe, a threat, something to try to protect his son.

She pulled the paper out of her purse when he raised an eyebrow, pulling the video up on her phone. "Césaire was stupid enough to put her phone in the corner where I could track everyone's movements, and I can figure everything out if I can get Markov. I figured out who destroyed what and calculated what they owe from there. I don't know who picked the lock to the upper floors, or to my room, though my money's on either Césaire or Rossi. Césaire's obsessed with being a great reporter while Rossi is a liar and a thief. Harleprè, Lavaillant, Bruel, Couffaine, and Lahiffe owe the least, they didn't do much. They just ripped a few pages out of my sketchbook. Raincompx, le Chein, Césaire, Rossi, Agreste, and Kantè did the most damage, and so will face the bigger lawsuits. I have already contacted my clients and informed them of the slight delay. Your team of designers, while most appreciated, will not be necessary. It shouldn't take me more than a few days to recreate the Wayne's suits and send them off, I sent the dresses yesterday. Jagged and Clara will both be in Paris next week and can stop by my house to pick up their outfits and have a final fitting. I can easily deliver the Tsurugi chensogams to their home. That covered everyone that had their outfits for the gala destroyed. I had finished the majority of them yesterday and done the final checks before sending them off. I was supposed to send the Wayne suits off today, though that plan was foiled. I was lucky that I went ahead and finished my commissions rather than more personal projects. Most of what got destroyed were projects my classmates requested of me rather than important works."

"Are you positive you don't want help? At least on your beaded dress?"

Marinette pulled up pictures of what she had. "I have several different scraps of colors, most of them either on the darker end of the spectrum or metalic, from the works they destroyed. I'm going to use those scraps from my other works to make a pair of wings on the back of the dress, the colors getting darker the further down they go and metalic fabrics making the outline of the wings."

Gabriel considered the dress. "You'll look like a fallen angel. I hope you're still planning on charging my son the full amount for the dress."

"Most definitely. There will be some alterations I make besides the wings, putting some pieces back together, cutting or tearing others, partially rebeading sections, I have some work to put in. Your son added to my work load when it was already full, he personally destroyed not only my dress but Jagged and Penny's outfits as well. Might I know what punishment he is suffering?"

"So you can plan revenge accordingly?" Gabriel questioned. He sighed at her innocent expression. "He will no longer attend François-DuPont. He will basically be under house arrest for everything except shoots until after the gala. I am undecided as to whether he shall go to another school or be permanently homeschooled. He is not allowed any contact with his former classmates nor access to social media or his phone. So if you wish to strike, do it right after a photo shoot. You can do it before or during as long as you don't ruin the clothes on display."

Marinette's grin was pure evil. "Don't worry, Monsieur Agreste. I have too much respect for the work designers put into their work to be so crass. Will Agreste still practice fencing with Kagami?"

"I shall allow it on a trial basis."

"Very well. It was nice meeting with you, Monsieur Agreste, but I must take my leave. I have too much to do before I traumatize, I mean get payback, I mean revenge, wait, no, deal with my classmates after the gala. But before I go… You wouldn't happen to know anyone that would be able to teach me how to, how should I phrase this… I guess basically be an Ice Queen?"

Gabriel smirked. "Actually, my nephew, Felix Graham de Vanily, will be at the gala. He's a model from England, and many consider him an Ice King. He'd be a great teacher." And perhaps potential mate to bring you into the family. I wonder how many love akumas it would take to get you two together… perhaps Adrien needs a good influence his age around the Manor…

Marinette slightly felt as though she had signed her future away, though that was ridiculous so she simply thanked Gabriel before leaving.

⏳

The next few days flew by in a rush of designing and lawyers. The lawyers her parents got were more than willing to come to the bakery and talk to Marinette as she sewed, especially since she had eyeballed them and given them all scarves and beanies the next time they were there. Marinette didn't bother to pay attention in Bustier's class, electing to nap instead. She was awake for Mendeleiev's classes, though. She liked her dragon-like teacher as the woman actually taught her students. She managed to finish her clients' clothes with time to spare, having gotten so used to designing for Jagged, Penny, and Clara that very few adjustments needed to be made. A couple Wayne suits had come back with notes on where they needed to be adjusted and how, and those were shipped back out that same day. Her own dress took until the last minute, Marinette completely finishing it, including adjustments, the day before she was set to leave for the gala. She would be staying with Jagged and Penny in the Wayne Manor for the two weeks she was to be there, a week before the gala and a week after. Her classmates's parents were horrified to hear what their children had done, making sure the kids paid every penny of what Marinette was suing for without even going to court. Alix and Nathaniel had nearly gotten in trouble with their families, though Marinette was quick to personally visit and explain things. Apparently the other families had contacted the Kurtzburg's and Kubdel's about the scandal with the children, no one noticing that some of the children weren't involved.

She already had her traveling designing kit packed so that she could make sure the Wayne's outfits all fit properly. Chloè and Kagami were traveling with her, determined to make sure their former rival was well taken care of while their parents took care of the hotel. Jagged was fuming beside Marinette whole they rode through Gotham, the girl talking to her friends.

"So, Mari-hime, you told me that you would explain what was going on if Adrien refused to before we left."

Marinette gave Kagami a highly stressed smile. "I think watching the video would explain things better. I didn't want you to get akumatized because of me while we were in Paris."

"So you knew Adrien would refuse to tell me what crime he committed against you. What video?"

Marinette pulled it up on her tablet. "For the record, I simply suspected that he would keep his mouth shut. Though Monsieur Agreste is making sure that his interactions with anyone besides himself, Madame Sancouer, and his bodyguard are highly limited." She passed Kagami the tablet, Chloè leaning over to watch it with her.

The Japanese girl dropped the tablet in her lap as she watched, clenching her fists so hard that her palms bled. "How- how dare that baka! They all have no honor! They should meet my blade!"

"Kagami. Calm down. I have it handled. I want you and Chloè to teach me how to be a vengeful Ice Queen while we're here. Monsieur Agreste suggested talking to his nephew for lessons as well. By the time I'm back in Paris, I don't want our classmates to be able to recognize me. I already have some revenge planned, the wheels for those are already in motion. I messaged the Césaire and Lahiffe families to inform the entire family that I will be unable to babysit for them for the foreseeable future. Ambassador Rossi has a request in her inbox to visit the school while we are gone, as Rossi's classmates would love to hear about what it's like to be an ambassador. The le Chein family was sent a list of tutors for their son's failing grades, unfortunately all those tutors work at the same time as mandatory swim practice. I sent Luka a copy of the video, so Kitty Section is about to loose their lead guitarist so that he can learn under my dear uncle. Agreste will be facing a startling amount of bad luck for a good chunk of time whilst loosing all of his beloved friends. By the time I am finished, even Hawkmoth won't want to work with them."

Chloè stared at her friend. "Did you really just say 'whilst?' Who hurt you? I just want to talk."

Jagged continued to sulk. "She won't even let me send my rockin followers after those bloody rats. She's only letting me steal away a new guitarist!"

"Because I have everything planned out. And Agreste will become even more isolated once we return. No matter what I say, Kagami is going to duel him to the, figurative, death before informing him of her distaste for him and his actions."

Kagami mock glared at Marinette. "So what if I do? He deserves it. He deserves much worse. But how will he become more isolated? I will still be sparring with him twice a week."

"A person is more isolated surrounded by people that don't care about them than all on their own. Yes, you will physically be there. But your obvious emotional distance will leave him more isolated than him being stuck in his room all day."

Chloè stared at her new friend. "Where was all this evil cunningness when I was your bully?"

Marinette smirked. "I had a wake-up call. Césaire, ironically, taught me that it's okay to stand up for myself, and Hawkmoth helped release a part of me I had blocked out."

"What? Were you akumatized? How did I not know?" Chloè demanded.

Marinette waved her hand dismissively. "It was a few days before we actually became friends, and he didn't manage to akumatize me. He possessed my dress, but I refused to work with him. Apparently he's wanted to akumatize me for a while, but I'm good at forcing myself to calm down."

"What was he going to call you?" Chloè was highly excited to finally have someone who knew what it was like to fully resist Hawkmoth. Not calm down before the butterfly reached them, not resist for a second before giving in, but fully resist the man.

"Mistress Hawthorne." Marinette laughed. "I was going to have the ability to turn my ruined dreams into hawthorn bushes that would trap everyone in their castle and force them to see the truth." Marinette had to stop, she was laughing so hard. "I told him no, and he was so shocked that he only argued for a second before wishing me luck with revenge!"

Jagged continued to sulk through the teens laughter, refusing to give in. He wanted to crush those bloody teens. No one gets away with hurting his niece.

⏳

As soon as she arrived at the manor and had her bags unpacked, Marinette began tracking down the Wayne's, one by one, and dragging them back to her room with their suits or dresses, forcing them to put them on so that she could fully alter them to her preference. Dick was scared of the tiny Asian girl that slung him over her shoulder before grabbing his suit and forcing him to come with her when he hesitated and then worked silently, ignoring his attempts at friendship. He was so scared of her that he sprinted the other direction the first time he saw Kagami. Jason and Bruce both wanted to adopt the girl- she blended in perfectly with their family, and Jason had witnessed both, the girl's kidnapping of his brother and Dick running away from Kagami. He had to respect someone who could instill more fear than Demon Spawn himself, and Bruce wanted to cultivate that talent until he got a Nightingale. Damian and Cass both respected the girl for her professionalism and silence (and word of her traumatizing Dick had already spread through the manor). Tim instantly fell in love with the girl, as she asked him if he wanted coffee or tea while they were doing his fitting, as he looked dead on his feet (he did not choose both or cry tears of joy, and no one can prove to Alfred that he did). Selina purred at the amount of pure chaos she could feel pouring off of the girl, even with her suppressing it while she worked. She needed a kitten. Bruce already had his litter, it was her turn. Kor'i bounced in place the whole time, trying not to inturupt the girl as she adjusted her glorious creation.

Jagged disappeared with Bruce after his fitting, explaining to the billionaire what Marinette had been going through, even showing him the video of her work getting destroyed, before asking for his help to get revenge. He explained Marinette's known plans, and the rocker and vigilante began planning around hers, using their collective contacts and knowledge to open the class's wounds even deeper.

Dinner that night was chaos. Jason, Selina, Bruce, and Jagged were in a constant argument, with Penny occasionally interjecting, that abruptly cut off any time Marinette drew near, she was only able to catch the words adoption and revenge, Kagami and Cass spent their time in silence, eyeing each other. Chloè didn't breathe while swapping between berating Dick and Tim for their fashion choices and interigating them about Gotham and its foreign student transfer policies. Damian scowled at everyone the entire time from his seat next to Marinette. Marinette did her best to emulate him, not noticing Dick slowly sliding his chair further and further away from her.

Damian decided he liked tolerated Marinette five days into her stay. Dick had been complaining to him and Jason about how much Asian girls scared him and Kor'i wanting them to live with them. Marinette had somehow heard his complaints and came storming up to them, cussing Dick out in a mixture of French, Mandarin, Arabic, Italian, and English. Damian did not know why that caused a blush to creep up his face, though he admired the way her accent curled around the words, making everything seem like a language all of its own.

Jason chuckled when she walked off. "That. That was the art of cussing at its finest. I'm getting Alfed and we're going to go teach my new little sister how to shoot guns. Angel's my favorite, you can all suck it." Jason walked off in the same direction the girl had left in. It didn't take but forty-two minutes for the sound of gunfire to echo around the house.

⏳

The night before the gala, the women in Wayne Manor gathered in Marinette's room. The night was spent coaching her on how to act and reveal her identity, both on the carpet and during the gala.

"Don't fret so much, kit." Selina advised. "You are a queen, act as such. Keep you head up and keep your cool. They'll all be tripping over themselves to speak to you, and you don't give them the time of day." Chloè nodded her agreement, even as Kagami objected.

"You're approachable and professional at the same time. Just let people see both sides of you."

The women continued to argue, Marinette finally escaping to talk to Alfred. She spent the night under his tutelage, learning all she could about presentation. The man finally ushered her off to bed. "You have a long day tomorrow. You will need sleep to get through it."

⏳

Once arriving at the gala, Marinette kept her head high as she glided down the carpet, the press quickly stopping her to ask if she was a new Wayne and what happened to her dress. "No." She offered a small smile to them. "I'm the designer MDC. The Wayne's hired me to design their suits, and were kind enough to offer their home to me and my aunt and uncle, even letting two of my best friends, Tsurugi Kagami and Chloè Bourgeois, spend the majority of their time with me at the Manor. My parents live in France, where I will be returning to in a weeks time. My room was broken into a few weeks ago, and some of my classmates ruined the outfits I had in there, including my dress. I decided to take what they did to my dress and use it as proof that nothing will bring me down. Excuse me, I need to go. I do not wish to keep my companions waiting." Marinette offered them a small bow before leaving them, giving the press a good look at the drooping angel wings sewn on the back of her dress.

"Angel," One of the reporters breathed, leading to a frenzy. MDC was announced to the world that night as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Angel of Gotham.

⌛

Finding her group was easy, and it was almost just as easy to spot Felix, Gabriel's nephew. She grabbed Damian by his forearm, the boy too startled by her random action to react, and drug him over to the boy she assumed was Felix.

She tapped.the boy on his shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Felix?"

The boy gave a hesitant nod. "Great! I want the two of you to teach me as much as you can about being a vengeful Ice Queen."

Felix raised one eyebrow, looking between the girl and the scowling boy. "What do we get out of it?"

"You get to live with the knowledge that I am going to use your teachings to traumatize idiotic classmates and I can keep the girls from making passes at you, as you are already occupied with entertaining a lady."

The boys both quickly gave their consent, refusing to let the girl leave their side for even a moment the entirety of the gala. They were appeased enough with the girl that her lessons continued throughout the following week, the boys enchanted enough with her to seriously consider following her to Paris and watching her strike like a coiled viper.

⌛

When Marinette returned to school, she had changed. Not just in personality, no, she changed everything. Her personality (at school), her hairstyle, her clothes, everything was redone to fit who she had become. Flowy black pants, a black sleeveless top held up by a ribbon that wrapped around her neck, a red leather jacket loosley hung on her frame, and black boots could be seen under the pants.. Her gaze was frozen as it swept over the class. She was unsurprised to see Adrien sitting in his usual seat, Gabriel had informed her of his decision to place Adrien back in Bustier's class for the time being so that Marinette could teach him a lesson. Alix and Nathaniel had transfered out of the class as soon as they had learned of what the students had done, moving to Madame Mendeleiev's class. Chloè was also leaving, though she was transferring to Gotham after the week was up. She wanted that week to be able to watch the havoc Marinette would wreck on the class. Kagami had already decided to join the class, and Marinette spotted her in Nathaniel's old seat. She was not expecting to see Felix frowning next to Kagami, nor Damian smirking at the back of the blond's head. Thanks to those very boys, though, it was amazingly easy to hide her surprise. A smirk crawled its way across her face, even as she stepped far enough into the room that everyone could see her. She had timed her entrance perfectly. As soon as the class went to explode with praises and questions, the bell rang, Madame Bustier walking in and asking them to all take their seats. Marinette made sure her steps were conscice enough to make it seem as though she was gliding up the rows, refusing to shoot her classmates so much as a glance.

Lila walked into the room moments later, late, her gaze zeroing in on Felix. "Felibear! It's so nice to see you again!" She squealed, rushing up the steps.

Felix stopped her with a cold glare. "Do I know you?"

Alya glared at the blond. "How could you ask your girlfriend if you know her? Especially since everyone knows you transfered to François-DuPont for her!"

Felix looked scandalized. "I did no such thing! I came here on request of my uncle. There are very few people here that I know from previous endeavors."

Lila burst out into tears. "H-how could you treat me like this? At least my Damiboo didn't do this!"

"Damiboo?" Marinette asked. Clearly Bustier wasn't going to stop the girl.

"Oh, I forgot you weren't here!" A sly grin crawled across Lila's face. "I suppose Damiboo didn't speak to you the whole time you were in Gotham, otherwise you would have known I used to date Damian Wayne!" The girl boasted.

Marinette looked at the horrified expression on her deskmate's face, and began her countdown. "I would never date a harlot like you!" He burst out, unable to stop himself. The class turned to stare at him, then realized that he had been just ahead of Marinette when the Wayne's and Jagged Stone arrived at the gala.

A slow smirk crawled across Marinette's lips, erasing the smile she had given her friends. "Do tell, Lila. I would love to hear all about your relationship with the Wayne's. Or about you dating Felix here. Oh! What about your relationship with my uncle? Save any of his cats lately? Let's not forget Clara Nightingale! Since she steals her music and dance moves from you, perhaps we could get a preview for her next video?"

Adrien frowned at Marinette. She seemed… different. "Mari, don't be so mean! Your supposed to be our everyday Ladybug, the better-"

"Agreste, if example is the next word to come out of your mouth I will steal Chloè's six inch stiletto right off of her foot and shove it down your throat while I laugh at your struggles." Adrien's mouth snapped shut as he paled, the class staring at Marinette in shock.

"Marinette! That was uncalled for!" Madame Bustier frowned at the girl. Perhaps letting her go to Gotham was a mistake.

"Really, Madame Bustier? From where I'm sitting, it was perfectly called for. Agreste is not going to use my emotions to manipulate me into being the perfect placemat anymore. You are not going to manipulate me into being the perfect victim. I will no longer tolerate this class's treatment of me. Four people in this room have the authority to call me by a nickname. They know who they are. Four people have the ability to ask something of me. None of them were the ones that destroyed my sketchbook or commissions. None of them told me that I always have to be the better person and set an example for my classmates. I refuse to allow myself to be used any longer."

Alya glared at her friend as the rest of the class stared at the noirette in shock or turned their head away from her in shame. "Girl, what are you talking about? First you want us to pay you a while bunch of money, and now you don't want to do anything for us?"

Damian started to retort himself, stopped by Marinette's hand on his arm. Her voice was frosted fire when she commanded the room. "Everyone in this room, excluding my four friends and our teacher, had a hand I destroying commissions for the Wayne gala, requests from all of you, and my sketchbook. That is why you were sued for damages. Some of you paid more than others because Alya was gracious enough to post a video she had taken of what you did on her blog that allowed me to see who destroyed what. That allowed me to see exactly who has hell to pay." The dangerous smirk several of her classmates had noticed danced across her face yet again, like a sword would dance in the hands of Robin.

Adrien scoffed. "you're just a baker's daughter. What could you possibly do?" He paled not long after the words flew out of his mouth, remembering what his father had told him.

"You look like you just remembered that I am not just a baker's daughter. Why don't you share with the class?" Marinette offered up one of her customary sunshine smiles, though Adrien was not fooled this time, quickly yelling the class exactly what his father had told him.

Lila blanched. Forget the Agreste's and that stupid reporter, she should have set her sights on Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette smiled down at the class, her court sitting in the back two rows with her. Chloè had kicked Felix out of his seat next to Kagami, and Felix had nudged Marinette into the middle of the bench, sandwiching her between Damian and himself.

Her blue eyes were frigid as she glared down upon her kingdom. The time for the Queen of Light was over- Darkness had come for her, and she welcomed them with open arms. Her crown darkened, from gold and diamonds to silver and onyx, and her reign had only begun.

#I'll Change My Crown From Light to Dark #Daminette #Felinette #Felidaminette #Félix Graham de Vanily #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Salt #Bashing #Miraculous Ladybug #MLB #mlb #MDC #Gotham #Wayne Gala #Clara Nightingale #Jagged Stone

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shera-dnd · 2 years

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Second fic of the marathon and it's our poll winner!

God I had to rewrite this so much I could have written two more fics just with what got discarded (this isn't literal do not request me to do that).

But here it finally is, the Arcane x The Locked Tomb crossover you apparently all asked for!

There had been a death in Canaan House.

Sky the Sixth had died on her way to the House’s underground facilities. Some panicked, others threw accusations at each other, but the Cohort got to work. Caitlyn the Second and her Cavalier, Violet the Second, had begun their investigation.

Except Vi was no Cavalier, and she was certainly not Second House. She was born to the Ninth, and taken prisoner by the Cohort for crimes she didn’t commit. For years she thought she’d never see her sister again, but then Caitlyn had offered her a chance. Join her as her Cavalier, and she would be granted freedom. All so she could avoid working with some creep named Marcus.

Vi could respect that level of pettiness, but she wasn’t about to trust the bastards who put her in a cage in the first place. That is until Caitlyn told her where she was going, and that every heir of every house had been invited to the First. Including her little sister.

There had been a death in Canaan House.

Ekko the Fourth lost his Cavalier to what he described as a giant bone creature. Vi had experience with those, she had fought one in the labs below. It had been the closest thing she got to a bonding experience with Cupcake. Sure, having a Necromancer inside your brain as you try not to get killed by a giant bone creature didn’t exactly count as a conventional first date, but nothing about this situation had been conventional.

It had also been the moment Vi realized that Caitlyn had a good heart after all. She could still be an annoying Cohort necro when she wanted to, but she was still sweet, like a Cupcake.

There had been a death in Canaan House.

Jayce the Seventh was killed, leaving Viktor the Seventh, his Necromancer with no one to care for him.

After that death, accusations ran rampant. The Cohort hadn’t been able to find a culprit, so the others set out to find one on their own, and soon the threats converged into a single point. Jinx the Ninth, and Sevika the Ninth.

The anger Vi felt when she first saw them, her sister being followed around by that colossal bitch. Oh, she wanted to march up to them and punch Sevika in that stupid face of hers, but Cait was quick to remind her that that was a good way to get the other seven houses to arrest her on the spot again, and she couldn’t care for Powder locked up in a cell again.

So she kept her distance, and helped her in any way she could. She came to her defense, calling out the other Houses on their bullshit, that they were accusing an innocent girl without any proof, because they just found her creepy. But she had to stop herself short, she couldn’t risk outing herself as an impostor. If they found she was just a prisoner in Cavalier’s clothing, they’d surely have her and Caitlyn’s head for it.

It made her furious at her own incompetence and her inability to help, but what was she to do? What option did she have but find the real culprit to clear her sister’s name?

There had been a death in Canaan House.

The Fifth House, Necromancer and Cavalier alike, had been lost, and with their deaths hate and fear began to burn brighter.

Jinx realized what that meant. The Houses would put away their little noble pretenses soon, and they’d be comingfor her head. She couldn’t trust anyone to come to her rescue, especially not her sister. So she would have to take care of things alone.

Everyone knew what this little road trip to the First House was about, achieving Lyctorhood, rising to God’s side as one of his immortal saints. And as hilarious as the thought of Jinx as a saint was, it also came with unimaginable power and actual immortality in the package, so how could she pass that up?

It took her days of incessant research, days without much rest or sleep, but slowly the pieces fell into place, and as she stepped back to truly take in the puzzle she just solved, she realized what she had to do.

There had been a death in Canaan House…

~~~

Jinx the Ninth did her best to clean Sevika’s blood from her robes. She wasn’t exactly squeamish around this stuff, but this was a big moment for her, and she wasn’t gonna let her stupid Cavalier ruin it.

And what a moment it was, she could feel the power surging through her, Sevika’s soul turned into a furnace of near unlimited thanergy. Now if only the woman could stop squirming and let herself get digested, that would be great. Jinx already had too many voices in her head as it was.

In her struggle to keep her own body under control she hadn’t heard the door to the study creaked open, and in came the last person she wanted to see right now, followed by the second to last.

“What did you do?” Vi asked, far too quietly, “Powder, what did you do?”

Of course this is when she shows up. Not in all those years she needed her, not when people turned against her, but now. A girl could cry if she wasn’t so busy laughing.

“I solved the puzzle,” her head twitched to the side, eyes turning pink for a moment, before returning to their usual grey, “while you two were running in circles trying to solve your little mystery, I went and became a Saint!”

Vi - or should she say, Violet the Second - looked horrified, backing away along with her new necro, “did you…did you kill all those people?”

Oh.

Of course she thought that. Of course even Vi assumed she was some bloodthirsty monster. Sure she killed Sevika, but she wasn’t some mad serial killer. For a moment, disappointment was clear on her face, even through the skull face paint, but it was quickly hidden behind another mask of humor.

“Come on, even I’m not that crazy,” she joked, calmly walking around the room, “I even got two of the killers for you.”

“What?” Now it was little miss Cohort’s turn to be baffled by her.

“She killed Jayce for me,” she explained with a shrug, “and Jayce tried to kill me, so that’s two for one. I already did more for the safety of people here than you.”

Gears began to move in the Cohort bitch’s head, pieces falling into place, her mind racing to the conclusion that had eluded her for so long. Jinx almost did a little slow clap for her, but she was too busy spasming as Sevika’s soul tried to escape her again.

“Powder!” Vi called, running to her side, “are you okay?”

Jinx cackled, “oh now you care! Now you get to play the big sister!”

“Powder, I--”

“Powder fell down a well!” She shouted, shoving her back with all the strength her cav used to have, “it’s Jinx now!”

“I tried to protect you!” Vi insisted, “but I got arrested. I couldn’t go back to the Ninth.”

“So you decided to join the Cohort instead!?” She challenged. “So you gave me away for the first pretty girl you found!?”

“That’s not what happened,” Vi pushed back, pleading for Jinx to see reason, “Cait was my only way here, the only chance I had to see you.”

“Well, now you see me, sister,” Jinx declared, spreading her arms so Vi could see all the blood on her, the mad look in her eyes as they shifted from grey to pink to grey again, the black trails her tears left through the face paint, “is it everything you wanted?”

Vi didn’t answer, she just rushed to her sister and dragged her into a hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Pow Pow,” Vi whispered, holding her as tight as she could. And for one beautiful moment, even Sevika’s spirit seemed to calm down, “I should never have let things get like this. I promise I’ll never leave your side again.”

And against all odds, Jinx hugged her back.

“Ahem,” Caitlyn cleared her throat, “not to interrupt the family bonding, but there is still a killer on the loose, and we’re all trapped here with them, so I’m sure the heart to heart can wait until we’re not all at risk of dying.”

Jinx glared at her, thinking how easy it would be to just eviscerate her on the spot before any of them could stop her.

Instead she just turned to her sister and declared, “I still don’t like your girlfriend.”

“She’s not…” Vi tried to argue, but Jinx was already leaving.

“Would you care to explain how you figured out the mega theorem?” Caitlyn asked as they walked away, “I’m pretty sure only I have the key to one of the study rooms.”

Jinx snorted, “like I needed to actually read the theorems. It was all in the trials already, duh.”

“All in the trials…” Caitlyn repeated, pondering for a moment what exactly she meant.

Unfortunately her train of thought was brought to a halt by a massive explosion followed by a tremor rocking the entire house.

Nothing had to be said before the trio ran towards the explosion. To their surprise, what they found was Viktor the Seventh and Ekko, both seared by flames, lying unconscious on the ground as the adjacent room burned to the ground.

“Shit!” Vi cursed, running to their side, just to be stopped by Caitlyn, “what?”

Cait did not reply, instead she looked back at Jinx and asked, “you said Jayce the Seventh attacked you?”

“Yes,” Jinx nodded, realizing what this meant, “but the killings continued after that.”

“Which means he either tried to kill you because he thought you were the killer,” Caitlyn continued.

“Or he was working with someone,” Vi finished.

Ever since they landed here, Jayce hadn’t spoken a word to anyone, had never even acknowledged anyone. All he’d ever done was follow his Necromancer’s orders, staying by his side at all times. Almost like a construct.

“Why yes, you’re all very clever young women,” Viktor spoke, standing up without the help of his cane, wounds closing like they were never there, “it’s truly a shame to waste such great potential.”

“What the fuck!?” Vi exclaimed, fists raising on instinct.

“Spare yourself the pain, girl,” Viktor commented calmly, “this young boy almost burned down half of Canaan and I’m still here. Just accept your end peacefully.”

“Why?” Caitlyn demanded, “why did you do this?”

“Why? To kill God, of course,” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing, “I have been his loyal servant for a myriad, and it’s about time his reign came to an end.”

“You’re a Lyctor,” Cait concluded, “one of the originals, but that means…”

“Yes, Viktor the Seventh is dead,” he nodded, “truly a shame. The boy was a genius, he really had potential, but he insisted that by achieving lyctorhood he would cure himself of our family’s illness. He didn’t understand it for the blessing that it was, and I have not suffered for ten thousand years just to watch a boy squander all my work. The mutation must survive.”

“Well, that settles it for me,” Jinx declared with a nod, before walking up to her fellow Lyctor, putting a hand on his shoulder, and shooting a fully grown shark skeleton from her sleeves and onto his face.

Things only escalated from there.

Powder had been pretty capable even back when they were kids, so watching her as a full Lyctor was terrifying. Her little “fishbones” surrounded her enemy, trying to bite off chunks of his flesh, and any time he managed to escape her pets, she would deck him with the strength and skill that only Sevika had.

Vi would be impressed, were she not already deeply worried for her sister’s well being. Sevika’s soul was still fighting her, still causing her to spasm and fight with herself. Powder’s already unstable mental state fraying more and more under the pressure of fighting in two fronts.

The worst part is that she was once again completely unable to help her. She couldn’t stop Sevika, and she couldn’t fight “Viktor” without getting in the way. So she stood there frozen, unsure of what to do, until Caitlyn took her hand and yanked.

“Pick up Ekko and let’s go!” She ordered and Vi followed.

“What’s the plan, Cupcake?” Vi asked, running after her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “we need to buy ourselves time.”

“But Powder--”

“She’s a Lyctor now, if they were easy to kill we wouldn’t be in this situation right now,” Caitlyn interrupted, not wanting to have this argument right now.

“Right,” Vi muttered, not fully convinced, but not sure what to do either.

Unfortunately “Victor” was more than happy to make the decision for them. Quickly each door began to seal shut, covered in that regenerating bone that that monster construct was made of. And it wasn’t long before that man walked into the room after them, a bigger and nastier version of that construct in tow, carrying Powder in its arms.

They didn’t have a choice now.

“Cover me,” she told Caitlyn and rushed in.

Vi fought valiantly, deflecting the monster’s blows, punching the creature down over and over again, doing all she could do to push it back. And every time she fumbled, every blow she couldn’t land, every spike she couldn’t deflect, Caitlyn was there for her, her own constructs fighting by her side in Vi’s defense.

The girl really couldn’t have asked for a better Necromancer, but this was still not enough. He was still a Lyctor, still healing faster than they could hurt him, and the thanergy he wielded seemed truly without end.

In the end Caitlyn’s clothes were stained in blood sweat, and Vi’s body had more cuts than she could count, and a bone spike firmly planted on her left arm. One good hit and she was sent flying to the other end of the room. Caitlyn rushed to her side, and with all the thanergy she could muster, summoned a shell of bone around them.

“We can’t do this,” Vi panted, her breath ragged, “we can’t beat him like this.”

“We can!” Caitlyn insisted, “his thanergy may have no end, but his thalergy must be running low by now. If I can get close to him, I could drain him and let his disease kill him.”

“So you just need to touch him?” Vi asked.

“Just for a few seconds, long enough to drain him.”

Vi…had a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, it wasn’t a happy plan, but it was the only one she had right now. There was no way she could get Caitlyn close enough with only one arm, but Cait had both, and all she needed was a little boost.

“I can get you there,” Vi said, with resignation in her voice, as she yanked the spike free from her arm.

“What are you doing?” Caitlyn asked, panic slipping through in her voice.

“Giving you the boost you need,” Vi answered, holding the spike up to her own heart.

“No, no,” she pleaded, “you can’t. You can’t do this.”

“I can’t live knowing I let you and Powder die on me,” she insisted, “if I die now, I can at least buy you a chance.”

“Vi, please.”

“Don’t worry, Cupcake,” Vi assured her, she tried to reach up, to cup her face with her free hand, but the spike had left it useless, “I’ll always be there with you.”

“Vi,” she called again, tears streaming down her blood stained face, “I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you’re the smartest necro I know,” Vi said, with the best, most genuine smile she could muster.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, doing all she could to steady herself to what was to come.

“And you… are the greatest Cavalier any Necromancer could ever ask for,” she whispered, leaning in to touch her forehead with her own, “thank you, thank you for fighting at my side.”

“Thank you, for letting me see the world again,” she whispered back, “Caitlyn.”

And with a shove, she drove the spike through her heart.

~~~

Caitlyn stood up, the bone shell coming apart around her.

“Don’t look down,” Vi’s voice called in her head, “I don’t think either one of us wants to see that.”

She didn’t question that, her eyes locking instead on the man in front of her.

“Fists up, protect your face and chest,” Vi instructed again, “keep light on your feet.”

Caitlyn took up a boxing stance, she expected it to be a sloppy approximation, but it came to her so naturally.

“That’s good,” the voice praised, “now let’s show that bastard what we can do.”

She rushed in, sliding under the monster and pushing up into a jump on the other side. Surprised by the Necromancer’s sudden speed and power, the Lyctor was too stunned to defend himself when the first punch came for his head.

“Duck!” Vi commanded and Cait followed, dodging under a blow from the monster.

Cait continued to pummel him again and again, avoiding every counter attack as Vi continued to coach her through this. And with each blow that landed, with each time her knuckles touched skin, the man lost more and more of his life, drained again and again, until only his “blessing” remained.

By the time the deed was done, Caitlyn’s hands were bloodied, her body shook with exhaustion, but the Lyctor was dead, and the skeleton with him.

Caitlyn closed her eyes, and for a moment she could swear she felt Vi’s hands cupping her face.

“You did great, Cupcake,” Vi praised.

“Please don’t leave,” Caitlyn pleaded, not daring to open her eyes.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” she answered, and Cait could feel her fingers gently brushing her cheek, “but you’re gonna have to promise me something too.”

“Anything,” Cait answered, certain she could never refuse whatever Vi asked of her.

“Keep an eye on Powder for me, okay?”

She felt Vi’s lips press against her forehead, but when she opened her eyes, she was nowhere to be seen.

#arcane #vi #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #piltover's finest #the locked tomb #the locked tomb au #cav/necro au #cav!vi #necro!cait #fanfic

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