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chaotic-super · 7 months

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Live With Me - Chapter 18

Read it on AO3 here!

“I don’t think that’s going to work.” Cat huffs, watching as Kara fruitlessly squirms in her seat in an attempt at getting out of the too-tight cuffs as she strains against the zip ties holding her legs against the chair.

Kara sags in defeat. “There has to be a way out for us. We both know what will happen if we don’t, and frankly, I don’t want to see the inside of a coffin any time soon.”

“Obviously I don’t want that either but tiring yourself out in a futile attempt to break free from that chair isn’t going to help us, is it?” Cat peers over at her, exasperation clouding her features. “We might have to fight and scream and cause a ruckus at some point. We can’t do that if you’re in need of a nap because you’ve already been fighting some handcuffs for hours beforehand.”

Kara sighs as she tries to stretch out her wrists. A quick wiggle of her fingers tells her that the cuffs are definitely cutting off her circulation somewhat. Her fingertips are slightly numb and that’s pretty worrying. “I wish they hadn’t put these cuffs on so tightly. Can prolonged blood loss to a limb cause permanent damage?”

“Do I look like a doctor to you?”

Kara meets Cat’s eyes. Her words might be harsh but her worry is palpable. “Point taken. Do you have any ideas on how we could get out of here?”

The resounding shake of her head has Kara sighing a second time, and she indignantly throws her weight back into the chair to show her displeasure at the entire situation. As she does, a faint crack can be heard.

“Was that…?” Cat barely dares utter the words.

“I think I just broke the chair.” Kara’s mouth hangs open as she looks over at Cat wide-eyed.

Cat shakes off her initial surprise quickly. “Don’t just sit there then. Break the thing. If you can break it, you might be able to get up, and if you can get up, getting out of here will be a hundred times easier, come on.”

In an attempt to recreate the effect she just had on the chair, Kara leans forward before shoving her weight back once more, but it’s tentative. She does it again, reserved because she’s afraid of falling backwards.

“Kara, for the love of God, please put your back into it, quite literally, because if I have to stay here longer than necessary because you’re afraid to chip a nail, I’m not going to be very happy.”

The sharp tone cuts through Kara’s worries and puts her back into the correct headspace, getting her to try a bit harder and come back to the realization that her need to get out of here is a lot greater than her fear of falling backwards.

First, she rocks forward as much as she can and then she shoves herself back into the chair with as much force as she can muster. It sends both her and the chair toppling over, and her face scrunches as she prepares for the landing.

Her arms hit the floor first with a dull thud, muffling the sound of wood on wood. She has to press her lips together tightly to stop herself from crying out and, in the process, inadvertently ends up biting down on her tongue. She winces as the taste of copper floods her senses, making her nose scrunch up.

“Are you ok?” Cat’s worried voice calls out to her.

��Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Kara coughs, swallowing harshly and doing her best to ignore the pain in both her tongue and her arms from falling directly onto them.

“Can you get up?”

Kara tries her best, swinging her legs as much as possible to get her momentum to force her onto her side. Her feet are still attached to the legs of the chair but she has made progress. She’s managed to snap the back of the chair off completely.

Pushing her arms back and wiggling as much as she can in an awkward sort of side shuffle, Kara manages to ditch the useless chair back, immediately giving her more room to move.

“What now? My legs are still trapped.” Kara strains to look back over at Cat, who is watching her closely, the cogs evidently turning in her head as she tries to figure out a way to get Kara off the floor and get the pair of them out of there.

“Uh…” Cat hesitates, and that doesn’t fill Kara with hope. If there’s one thing Cat Grant doesn’t usually do, it’s hesitate. “Can you reach your feet?”

With a bit more awkward twisting, Kara manages it, tapping her fingers against one of the zip ties to show she can. “Yeah.”

“Take your shoe off and bring it closer to you so you can get the laces out, then you’re going to thread it through the zip tie. Once you’ve done that, you need to create friction, pull it back and forth as quickly as possible, and it should snap. Got it?”

“Yes, I think so,” Kara grumbles, doing her best to ignore the aches and pains from being in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

From there, Kara attempts to follow the instructions she’s been given, the task achievable yet nowhere near easy to accomplish. She’s forced to wriggle and squirm to reach her hands around to her feet and contort her body in ways her joints don’t particularly appreciate.

“You look like a caterpillar that has been cursed by the universe to never turn into a butterfly. Hurry up.” Cat rushes her, aware that Kara has made a lot of noise and unsure if there are guards around or someone in the building who is supposed to be watching them.

“Thank you.” Kara grunts, forcing the lace of her shoes through the practically non-existent gap between her ankle and the chair leg.

As soon as it’s through, she starts trying to saw her way through the zip tie, her leg kicking against it to try and weaken it. It’s only on one particularly strong kick that she rips the zip tie down the leg of the chair and realizes that she could have just slid it off all the while without the added stress of trying to break it.

“Oh, I’m kind of dumb.” She mutters, sliding the other one off and forcing her shoe back on, minus the lace, which she just shoves deep into her pocket.

Now that she’s not attached to the chair, she flips herself onto her knees, using her hands as much as she can while still stuck behind her back. She clambers to her feet and steps towards Cat. “Ms Grant, I have an idea of how to get you off the chair, but it’s not going to be pretty.”

“I don’t care about pretty; I care about you getting me the hell out of here.”

Kara takes a deep breath before cracking on with her plan that she admits isn’t the best thought out but is the only one her brain is giving her in this pressing situation. They don’t have time for her to try and find another solution. She just has to try it and hope for the best.

Shuffling behind Cat, she turns her back to the chair before grabbing the top of it with her bound hands and slowly tipping it back, lowering Cat to the floor as gently as she can. Once she’s safely on the ground, she tips her onto her side as delicately as she can, which is not very.

“Hold on, I’m going to help you shuffle down to free your legs, and then I’ll help you off the back of the chair.” Kara murmurs, her hands scrambling to find purchase against Cat’s body to arrange her in a way that will make the escape possible. She’s never before wished that she was friends with David Blaine, but there’s a first for everything.

“Hurry up, we need to make this quick and we haven’t even touched on the handcuffs yet.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that part,” Kara whispers.

“You forgot?” Cat whisper-yells back at her.

Kara nods, focused only on getting Cat’s feet free, which isn’t too tricky. Once that’s done. Kara moves to get Cat out of the rest of the chair but falters and changes tactics. It will be easier to pull her up if she can see what her hands are doing.

Totally overestimating her flexibility, Kara attempts to pull her legs through her joined arms. There’s a struggle as she crouches down and tries to shimmy her wrists over her butt so she can kick her first leg over, and in doing so, she falls directly onto Cat, her face smushed against her stomach and her shoulder digging into her boss’ boobs.

“Ugh, can’t you do anything delicately? Jesus, Kara.” Cat can’t do anything to push Kara off her. Still, the sharp tone is enough to get her pulling herself together and trying again, this time a little further back from where Cat is lying so if she falls, it won’t be onto the woman that would totally file a sexual harassment claim against her with HR just to inconvenience her before revoking it after a day.

This time, Kara gets further. She gets her wrists over her ass and manages to get one leg through her arms. The problem comes when she can’t get the other leg through. She’s essentially now just stuck with her hands handcuffed between her legs. At least she can see them.

“That is entirely unhelpful, Kara. Now you’ll have to put your crotch next to my body, and I don’t appreciate that.”

“This is better. I can actually see where I’m grabbing you now.”

“I would prefer an accidental boob grab to having something Lena Luthor has spent too much time buried in lingering right beside my head.” Cat sneers.

Kara’s face flushes a deep crimson at the words, not expecting her boss to come out with something so lewd, yet somehow, she feels as though she should have expected it on some level. Making a choice that will most likely get her further away from the statement and the further tongue lashing she could potentially open herself up to, Kara stays silent, instead manoeuvring around Cat so she can hook her fingers into her armpit and drag her up and off the chair completely.

“Ok, now what do we do about the cuffs?” Kara asks.

Cat answers right away, a plan already formulated in her head. “I need you to pull out the hairpin in my hair and then pass it to me. I can get myself out of my cuffs and then I’ll get you out of yours. Ok?”

“You know how to pick the lock of government issues handcuffs?”

“I dated a senator once.” Cat offers up as Kara digs through her hair for a hairpin.

Kara’s face scrunches in confusion as she hands the hairpin over, her eyebrows furrowing and her lips pulling down as her nose scrunches up cutely. “Why would a senator—”

“Shut up. I have to focus.” Cat snaps, her face the epitome of concentration. It’s also the exact same face as the epitome of constipation but Kara doesn’t dare say anything. She doesn’t have a death wish.

It takes her a few minutes, but it works. Cat pulls it off, displaying the opened cuffs to Kara like a trophy with a smug smile before it drops with her eyes. She’s looking right at Kara’s hands with a level of disdain usually reserved for board meetings.

“I really wish you hadn’t put us both in this position.”

“I’m getting that.” Kara breathes, rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to kneel in front of you. Please remember I’m not your girlfriend, so if I see those hips so much as twitch in my direction, I’m going to leave you like that. Actually, I’m sure Ms Luthor would probably like that. You look like the kind of couple to be into weird shit.”

Kara’s jaw is practically resting on the floor at this point and settles for leaving it that way. At least then her tongue can’t get her into any trouble. Any more trouble.

Cat works away for a minute or two, her eyes laser focused while Kara looks anywhere other than at the kneeling CEO. She would like to erase this moment from her brain forever and feels much dirtier than it actually is because of the uncomfortable air left in the room from the comments made.

As the handcuffs unlock, Kara feels the rush of pain to her wrists as the blood flow is restored. She brings both hands up to her chest and tries to rub some of the feeling back into them.

All signs of her previous snark gone, Cat rests a tender hand on her forearm. “Are you ok?”

“I will be once we’re out of here and we’ve found Lena.”

“Then let’s go find her.”

That decided, they first take a look out of the lone window over on one side of the room, taking in the wonderous sight of nothing but a dirty alley and no way to get down from what is very clearly either the third or fourth floor. There’s no climbing or dropping their way down without breaking their ankles, and if anyone were to try it and fail spectacularly, it would be Kara.

Cat flicks her head towards the door. “That’s our only way out. We can’t get down.”

“That’s the way they’ll expect us to try and escape through, in any case. There might be a tripwire or something.”

“A tripwire?” Cat looks half disappointed and half amused at how Kara’s brain works. “I don’t think there’s a tripwire.”

“Wait,” Kara calls out softly as Cat starts making her way over to the door. “We might not be able to get down, but I think we can get up.”

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.” Cat folds her arms, her usual strong stance faltering from a mixture of exhaustion, fear and stiffness from being trapped in one position for so long.

Kara looks up and out of the window, judging carefully to see if her idea is feasible. “I think we can do it. We climb out, and I’ll give you a boost up. There’s a balcony right above us. If you can get up there and help me up once you’re there, we can get out through that room upstairs instead.”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to try and climb out of a window to a balcony attached to a room that could be filled with a bunch of assholes that handcuffed us to chairs not too long ago?”

Kara shifts her weight, her hands wringing in front of her. She stretches out her back, cracking it softly. “No, but I am, and I think it’s our best chance. I’ve just got a gut feeling that if we go up there, it will work out for us. I can’t explain it.”

With a huff, Cat pins her with a look Kara has never seen before. “Then let’s follow your gut. Maybe it will lead you to a buffet on the way to Lena.”

“I care more about Lena than a buffet,” Kara argues, prising the window open as much as she can, grateful it’s old and only has a catch, not a lock that requires a key.

“Then today is the day hell freezes over.”

“Is now really the time for you to be making snarky comments? This seems like a time where you should be giving me time to think so we can make the best decisions possible.”

Cat sneers in response. “The best decisions possible? Kara, you just told me to climb out of the window and risk falling to my death.”

Kara’s nerves are fried and she can’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “Would you prefer a bullet instead? I’m sure that can be arranged if you really want that.”

“You’re spicy,” Cat complains, but there’s a hint of something in her eyes that Kara can’t make sense of, her brain too busy figuring out how to get them out of this mess to try and work out the inner workings of Cat Grant’s mind, a hefty task if there ever was one.

“No. I’m scared, and you’re not helping.” Kara answers. “Plus, my head is killing me.”

Cat had somewhat grown accustomed to the dried blood smeared across Kara’s face, but at the mention, it’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. “Let’s get out of here then. You need to get that looked at.”

“Exactly. So, do you want to climb up there or what?”

“No, but let’s do it. I once climbed a basketball player like my life depended on it. This can’t be much different.”

“Gross.”

Kara climbs through the window first, keeping one hand inside to clasp onto the wall just above the window and keep her balance as she teeters on the thin window frame. She holds her other hand out in offering and sighs in relief when Cat takes it without a word, climbing out and facing Kara.

“Stand on my knee first and then work your way up to my hip. Then, I’ll brace my arm against my chest, you stand on my hand, and I’ll boost you up. It’s not that high up to the edge of the balcony. You should be more than high enough to grab the railing and have enough leverage to pull yourself up.”

Humming her understanding, Cat gets right to work. She’s not putting off the inevitable. If this fails, it doesn’t matter if she goes splat on the pavement now or in two minutes.

Kara grunts, doing her best to stay as still and as steady as possible as she’s used as a jungle gym. She has to give it to her boss, she’s actually pretty good at climbing. She’s scaling Kara like she’s nothing more than an average staircase. Impressive.

Cat grips the railing and starts pulling herself up. The metal railing is cold against her palms, the chipping paint helping her grip, something she needs because her palms are so sweaty. She tips herself over the edge as soon as she can, her heart thumping quicker than a hummingbird’s.

“Are you good?” Kara peers up as much as she can, her anxiety increasing now that Cat is out of sight.

She doesn’t get an immediate response, but then, through the gaps in the railings, two legs appear, swiftly followed by Cat’s sharp voice. “Grab on and get up here.”

Kara has a feeling that she’s either going to slip or break Cat’s legs, she’s not sure which it is. She wraps her hands around Cat’s ankles first, and a small part of her revels in the hint of stubble there. She’s found an imperfection in the Queen of All Media. Lena is going to love hearing about this later.

If she wasn’t determined before, she certainly is now that she’s got an image of Lena in her head. She has her head thrown back in laughter and a cheesy grin etched across her face. They’re at home and they’re safe. Kara’s going to get them home.

Climbing her way up to the balcony, her arms gripping Cat tightly and her feet scrambling for purchase against the wall, she almost slips as the unexpected sound of the door slamming open shocks her out of focus.

Someone is in the room they have barely stepped a foot out of and there’s no doubt that her legs are currently hanging right outside of the window right now. There’s no way they don’t know where she is.

“Get down, now!”

The voice is so demanding and strong that Kara has to fight every instinct that she has not to give in and obey, but they can still make it. She’s sure of that.

One final push and a little bit of dumb luck and she’s got her hands around the railings, Cat is standing up and she’s being pulled up onto the balcony fully.

It’s just a shame that by the time she’s safely on the right side of the railings, they’ve already been blocked onto the balcony by a group of agents.

“Hands where we can see them!”

Cat doesn’t fight them, and if Cat isn’t fighting them, Kara knows she sure as hell shouldn’t and follows suit.

“Catherine Grant? Kara Danvers?” One of them confirms – a woman with a stern face, heavily wrinkled despite looking moderately young.

“That’s us.” Cat answers for the pair of them.

“Agent Captyn, CIA.”

A badge is held up for them both to see.

“Agent C—”

“Spelt with a C-A-P-T-Y-N. No jokes at this time, please. We’re here to protect you in the name of national security. Follow us.”

A brief glance is exchanged between them before they shuffle in from the balcony. They’re a little shocked to see what has to be close to twenty agents in the room, some kind of office with a fancy desk and a large monitor in one corner.

“Agent Captyn?” Kara hesitantly tries to get her attention, not willing to risk tapping her on the shoulder. She’d like to keep all of her fingers; Lena would be upset if she didn’t.

Steely grey eyes meet hers. “Yes, Ms Danvers?”

“Have you found Lena?”

Those eyes soften just a smidgen. “We’re working on it, I promise. There’s another team out there right now on their way to a possible location.”

“Is it a hotel?” Cat rushes her steps to keep up with them, the pace a little too fast for her liking. She’s not one to be left behind in any capacity though. “That’s where I last saw her. We were initially taken there together.”

“It is.”

“Good.”

“Excellent.” Agent Captyn faces off with her, not liking the air of superiority Cat is exerting. “Now, we’re going to take you to a safe location and we’ll have someone look over your injuries, Ms Danvers. It looks like a possible broken nose from where I’m standing.”

Kara nods. “Yeah, they got me good. Where are they? The FBI guys sort of just left us there. Did they just leave after?”

“Either that or they got a tip that we were on our way. Our priority is your safety right now, Ms Danvers. All you have to worry about is following my orders and you’ll be back in National City before you know it.” She directs them to the fire escape and they start making their way down to where there are several non-conspicuous black cars and a few plain vans ditched haphazardly outside of the building. “Come on, you’re safe now.” She reassures them one last time.

Climbing into one of the cars, Kara feels Cat’s hand slide over her wrist. The pressure is grounding and helps calm her, but a sly glance over at the woman sitting on her left has her realizing that the touch isn’t for her. Even the mightiest of people falter under too much pressure and need a little reassurance.

Looking away to not make her self-conscious, Kara trains her eyes out of the window, the pain in her face now more evident since she’s got time to sit in the moment. She hopes that whatever doctor they set her up with gives her some pain meds because it’s getting less bearable by the second.

They have no idea whether these people are actually going to take them somewhere safe, but Kara finds that she doesn’t really care so long as she gets reunited with Lena. She needs to know she’s safe. That’s her number one priority.

Lena taps her fingers against the table impatiently. She was sure she wouldn’t be waiting long, but here she is, still waiting. At least a couple of hours must have passed, and she’s been alone ever since. It’s making her uneasy. She was so sure that she handled General Lane well and came out on top, but the longer she sits, stews, worries and waits, the less certain she becomes.

As much as she understands why she can’t have her phone with her, she wishes she kept it with her so that she could play one of the dumb games Kara insisted on downloading there months ago so she would have something to do in her downtime besides check her emails. She’ll never admit to Kara that she plays them occasionally, but she’s relatively sure Kara knows anyway. She always knows.

She sighs, weighing up whether or not to just put her head down and see if she can rest a little while she waits. It makes her feel awful that she feels she could sleep even though she doesn’t know where Kara and Cat are but she’s mentally and physically exhausted. She’s half ready for the government to just make them disappear at this point just so she can rest. Albeit, that would be a more extended rest than she would like. A nap is a nap though.

The door opens just as she’s about to throw caution to the wind and get some shut-eye. The person she was expecting isn’t the one standing there though. In place of General Lane, there’s instead a group of agents, guns drawn and in full tactical gear.

One steps forward and raises his mask. “Ms Luthor, follow me. We’re getting you out of here.”

“And who are you?”

“CIA.”

“Say no more.”

He looks confused as she stumbles to her feet. “You don’t have any questions.”

“Not currently. Just take me to Kara and I’ll be happy. That is where we’re going, correct?”

“Well…yes.”

“Wonderful, let’s go.”

Lena strides through the building like she owns the place, her fatigue and exhaustion pushed aside as she’s directed to a motel room by a couple of agents. They hand her the key and nod to door number twenty-seven. “You’re safe here. You’ll be well guarded, I promise.”

“Thank you.” She forces out, eager to get to her girlfriend. She slides the key into the handle and pushes it open, barely remembering her manners. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

She rushes inside, letting the door swing closed behind her.

The motel room is split into two parts, a living area and then a bedroom area. Given the quiet emptiness of the living area, she knows where her people should be.

Rounding the corner, she holds her breath, terrified that she’s not going to be there.

She is.

“Kara?”

“Lena?” Kara’s voice is filled with excitement and relief, but that’s not what Lena’s focusing on. No, her eyes are instantly drawn to the bruising and swelling across Kara’s face. She has sutures across one cheek and her forehead.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

Cat clears her throat from where she’s sat in a massive terribly-patterned armchair, the thing practically engulfing her. “She’s not fully ok, but she got signed off by a doctor. As you can see, those assholes really did a number on her face. Believe it or not, this is much better than it was before.”

Lena’s feet draw her closer to Kara, even when her mind isn’t all there to direct her. Her body knows where to go, or rather, who to go to. As soon as she’s within reach, Lena’s hands cradle Kara’s face, turning it gently so she can get a better look. “I’m going to kill them.”

“That’s easier said than done. I think a lot of them have run back to wherever they hang their bad-guy masks at night. They ditched us at the office building where they were keeping as soon as they knew the CIA were getting close.”

“And the CIA came and let you out?”

“We were already halfway out by the time they got there. We would have managed it.” Kara brags.

“By ‘halfway out’, she means halfway out the window. We were in the process of successfully scaling the building when they arrived. It was all very dramatic and very impressive. I could have done without it though.”

The story is almost too much. Lena’s had enough for the day—more than. “I can’t take much more of an explanation tonight. Think we can save the story for tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Kara takes Lena’s hands from her face and gently guides her down to sit on the bed beside her.

“She says as though she hasn’t been fighting sleep for the past hour because she wanted to be awake when her girlfriend finally arrived.” Cat snickers.

Lena can’t help the fond smile that falls into place. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Kara nudges her. “Now, there’s three of us and one bed. How are we doing this? I don’t mind taking the couch so you can rest properly. I hear CEOs can be particularly grumpy if they don’t get enough rest.”

Cat raises herself up from the chair, straightening out her clothes as best she can despite them being heavily rumpled from the day’s events. “That’s quite alright. I’ll take the couch. I’ve been far too close to you today, and I don’t want that same experience with your partner. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from being forced to be that close to your crotch. In fact, I might need therapy.”

“You’re not the only one,” Kara mumbles as Cat flounces off.

Lena pins her with a look of utter bafflement and Kara rushes to explain as she realizes that her boss just told her girlfriend that she was close to her crotch. That’s not something that any girl wants to hear about her girlfriend.

“I uh…I got my hands caught around my crotch.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s not as sexy as it sounds. I had my hands handcuffed behind my back and I tried to get them around to my front. I got caught like this.” Kara mimes out how she got herself trapped. “Cat had to pick the lock while I was like that.”

Lena nods slowly. “You’re a disaster.”

Kara is about to argue but loses the words as Lena practically dives onto the bed. “Come cuddle.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Read the final 2 chapters on Patreon here!

Find out more about 'Supergirl May-hem', a new collaborative event for writers and artists who love all SG WLW ships right here.

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riccismy-life · 1 year

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Marilyn Thornhill x Fem! Reader

Description: You fall asleep in Miss Thornhill's class, wake up in her room handcuffed to her bed.

TW: tethers, sexually explicit content, fluff ______________________________________________________________

You were in your botany teacher's class, Marilyn Thornhill, you hadn't slept at night and you really didn't care much for hearing about plants at the time.

You were a bit of a rebel, Weems was starting to get tired of you, and Thornhill, as your dorm mom, had a serious talk with you many times.

"Y/N" the redhead called you interrupting her class, she had a serious look and her arms crossed.

"Yes, Miss Thornhill?" you asked in a falsely sweet tone. You loved her, but you weren't in the mood.

"Can you get your feet off the desk?"

You had an arrogant posture, your legs were crossed while your feet rested on the desk "I'm sorry, I don't want to" you replied.

She adjusted her glasses with her left hand and returned to her previous posture before letting out a small laugh "It wasn't a question, Y/N." She spoke in a tone you had never heard before and you shuddered.

"He can't be serious!" you complained.

"I'm very serious, Miss Night."

You decided to obey her and lowered your feet from the desk, you didn't want your classmates to have more reasons to generate meaningless gossip about you. Besides, the situation gave you a little chills, Miss Thornhill never behaved like that and you were pushing her buttons enough for now.

Although apparently you didn't care enough because after a few minutes you fell asleep in your seat.

. . .

When you woke up you saw how your vision was cloudy and your body ached a bit, you didn't remember anything and the light was blinding you.

You heard a distorted voice in the distance and little by little it became better heard, your sight returned to normal and you noticed that you were in a room you didn't know. You desperately tried to move and yoursed as you felt a burning sensation burn your wrists, you were tied to the head of a bed with ropes too tight for you to move, but not tight enough to cut off your circulation.

"Fuck!" You yelled and saw the person who had kidnapped you look at you with a strange smile on her face.

"Hi Y/N" she greeted you with a chuckle "How did you sleep...I hope you didn't have nightmares" she spoke in a childish tone pouting.

"Awesome" you scoffed.

"How nice" she said.

"What do you want from me?" you asked.

The person smiled like a Cheshire cat and you felt a familiar warmth build up in your belly, you had fantasized about his touch, his fingers inside you, his mouth fucking you.

"You see... I can seem very good but the truth is that, if I want to, if I put my mind to it, I can be very bad" she spoke and you noticed how she looked so different without her glasses, she no longer seemed innocent and shy "but in the good sense, sure," he scoffed.

"You haven't answered my question" you replied and she approached you dangerously slowly until she was kneeling on the bed.

"And you haven't understood who's really in control here, pet." That sentence sent waves of heat through your already throbbing core.

"Fuck, Marilyn.. you're fucking hot when you're mad" you said stunned by her beauty, the fact that her body wasn't wearing her usual blue robe but a black lingerie set didn't help in the least.

"How cute" she said and you saw her pull a knife out of her lace stockings.

"Wh-what are you going to do with that...?" you whispered.

She laughed "Calm down, I'm not going to kill you" she informed and you didn't know how to feel.

Suddenly she began to tear your clothes with the knife until she left you only in your underwear.

"Tell me honey... do you like to think of my fingers fucking you like a slut while you moan for mommy like a good girl?" he said in your ear and you moaned. "do you want mommy to ruin you?" he asked and you nodded desperately " Use your words, honey."

"yes, mommy.. please.. fuck me.." you begged.

"Well, if you ask me so nicely, my good girl." Her fingers trailed down to your ruined panties and yanked on the elastic until they were completely off. Her finger started to stimulate your clit and you moaned from the overstimulation, she was torturing you in the most lustful way.

"I love how your little body reacts to me.. you're so good, taking me like a good girl" her fingers sank into your wet sex and you gasped, Marilyn pumped her fingers in and out and your hips moved in unison in search of more.

"Oww.. m-mommy.. I'm so close.." you said.

"Then come for me, honey" she spoke and you felt your orgasm wash over you.

When you thought that was going to be all she watched as she reached down and spread your legs for more access and her tongue circled your clit in circles, then she moved up to your sex and fucked you until you felt like you would have another orgasm.

Her body lifted and she brought her mouth to your lips and she kissed you furiously while she was fucking you with her fingers, you moaned into her mouth and arched your back, you wanted to touch her but your hands were handcuffed and did not allow you to move them. His lips went down to your breasts and he left wet kisses all over, he played with your nipples and your second orgasm flooded you, your thighs were a mess just like your aroused sex, your legs were shaking and you didn't stop making lustful noises from your mouth .

"I can't... I can't anymore..." you said hoarsely.

"Oh no, pet. You'll take what I give you like a good girl and do it right, you hear me?", she asked and you nodded. "

Y-yes, ma'am..." you replied.

"Good girl. Just let me know if she's too much for you and we'll stop, okay," the redhead informed you.

"Yes... I will" you said.

Marilyn nodded silently and inserted two fingers into your center, she made several strokes touching your exact spot while you took her like a good girl, her good girl. She smiled as you squirmed under her commanding touch and you thought she was the most beautiful and terrifyingly hot woman you had ever seen in your life.

"M-Marilyn.." you moaned her name "...I need to..".

"Hold on a little longer, honey.. you're being so nice" she murmured.

Marilyn stimulated you a little more until she gave you permission to cum and you felt your whole body thirst before her.

"What a good girl" she praised her and she moved a little away from you so she could untie you.

"Who knew that the shy botany teacher could be so dominant and hot?" you scoffed as you sat up on the bed.

"Shut up" he laughed "I know you love it".

"I like you, Marilyn..." you said.

"I know... I like you too" she said and she smiled a little blushing, then she was the same old Marilyn Thornhill again.

"Well, it's good that in a few days it's the prom... are you coming with me?" you asked him and he was surprised.

"Are you serious?".

"S-sorry.. I.. it's okay if you don't want to" you said swallowing your words.

"What?! Are you kidding? Of course I want to come with you!"She almost yelled excitedly.

"Okay, it's a date then" you said.

"A date...sounds good" she spoke.

It sounded perfect.

....

@marilynthornhill @marilynthornhillsimp12 @marilynthornhilllover

@cursedbambii @c-lyn4ever @christinarricci @missthornhills

@christinasriccinumberonefan @kassiericci @karlaestrella

What did you think, honeys?

#marilynthornhillxreader #marilynthornhill #marilynpleasepunishme

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the-adventures-of-dave · 3 years

Text

Livin the life

#catblr #petblr #cats #wtnv #I have a stomach ache so I’m trying not to move much #cats are helping me not move by cutting off the circulation in my legs #photo #Kepler #dave the cat

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melianlmao · 2 years

Text

Pancakes For Dinner

Chapter Fifteen: You'll Be Okay

Previous༆ Masterlist༆ Next

Warnings: Cursing, Reader is again an emotional wreck but can you blame em?

A/n: I'm not really happy with this honestly, it's kinda everywhere and I'm sorry for not posting and I'm pretty sure I'm losing sight of what I wanted for this story and that makes me sad. Send Inspiration please. Also Kenma and Readers interactions are getting more and more like idk personal and close and like let me know if it's moving too fast Anyways Enjoy!

If it weren't for Mel and Kuroo, Kenma wouldn't leave his house at all. He'd be perfectly content ordering door dash every night and never leaving the comfort and safety of his home.

People exhaust him, he doesn't care so much what they think anymore but that doesn't mean he wants to be a social butterfly all of the sudden.

Although he's moved on from the constant headspace and anxiety being around people used to give him he'd still prefer to be by himself.

So explain why he's holding on to you like you'll disintegrate if he lets go? Explain why he just rubs your back and listens as you tell him everything. And explain to him why the urge to purge the man who made you like this from this earth.

After you're done spilling over all the emotions and thoughts you kept locked down to him he's furious.

Both at you for keeping this shoved inside and at Him for doing this to you. He's only known you for a very small time frame not even a month and the trust you have to put all this onto him is enormous.

The regret bubbles up after he falls completely silent and you hope he doesn't find you pathetic.

After all you did run away with your tail tucked between your legs and now you can't even think about Him without breaking down.

A beat of silence passes and he keeps you tucked into his chest.

Mel walks in, takes a look at your huddled form and meets eyes with Kenma, a brow raised.

He just shakes his head and Mel takes the signal and goes to find Kuroo to tell him that You and Kenma are leaving.

Kenma releases you from his grip and you look up at him confused.

"I know you probably don't want to be alone right now so if you'd like you can come to my place until your brother is done at his practice." He offers watching as your eyes widen.

Your mouth opens then closes and you just nod, scared that if you speak it'll come out weak and broken.

He takes your hand and leads you out to the limo and the ride is silent until he helps you out and leads you to his place.

You notice it's much bigger on the inside than it seems when he punches in the code and the door unlocks.

He gestures for you to sit on the couch as he fumbles around in the kitchen only speaking to ask what your preference for tea or coffee is and bringing your drink to you in a cat mug.

You trace over it's little paws with a small smile and let the liquid soothe you as Kenma sits a respectable distance away.

Silence envelopes the two of you for the umpteenth time that day but this time it's a lot less tense and awkward, more so open and aired out, maybe it's because he knows, he knows and he's not disgusted or mocking you.

"Thank you." You say holding the mug with both hands as if it were keeping you together. Kenma's confused at the statement but then it clicks that you're thanking him for not making this a big deal.

He raises a brow and you opt to stare into the bottom of the mug as if it will tell you the future.

"Y/n, there's no need to thank me at all." He says firmly and his tone tells you he's not willing to negotiate.

"Yeah, okay." You mumble and silence takes over once more. Then the door is basically busted down and Osamu scurries in frantically searching for you.

His eyes finally land on your stunned figure and he's engulfing you in his embrace almost cutting off your circulation.

"S-samu." You choke out and he immediately releases you apologizing softly.

"What happened?" He asks a hand on your shoulder.

"I'd rather spill when everyone is here so I don't have to relive it anymore that I have too." You sigh knowing that it'll be better to just get it all out at once.

Osmau nods and then it seems he notices Kenmas existence. If his brow raised any further it would leave his head as he examines the smaller male with an unreadable expression.

Then he breaks into a grin and claps Kenma on the back (rather hard).

"Hi! Ya must be this Kenma Kozume I hear so much about!" He cheers as Kenma lets outl an oof at the force of the hit.

"Osamu!" You half yell and he ignores you.

"Ya know I caught my dear Sib over here creeping your tw-" he begins to tell Kenma but you shove a couch pillow in his face before he can finish.

Kenma can't stop the chuckle that escapes watching you and your brother wrestle for the pillow.

Yeah you'll be okay.

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

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@membranexx @fi-chanwrites @namyari @firewheeesky @therealpussybangs @mrglubb @sugaslilsugabby @strawberry-mentosss @01trickster10

#pancakes for dinner #the truths coming out y'all #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu smau #kenma kozume x reader fluff #hq suna #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna angst #mel things #<3

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aidanrgallagher7 · 2 years

Text

Love in The Midst of Doomsday~

Pairings: Five Hargreaves × The Reader

Chapter Six: Day Six

Chapter Five is here..

The Masterlist is here..

Warnings: mentions of blood, death of a character, mentions of depression and cussing

Word Count: Over 1k

The story is back guys! Get ready, it's a long one🎉❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the hours went on, you begin to worry about Five's whereabouts. You have not seen him since Luther pushed him off of the stairs and he blinked. That was early this afternoon, and it is now pitch black outside and still no sign of him.

Diego "We have to go."

"Wait, where are all of you going?"

Klaus groans, "We got an invitation from the old man to come to dinner."

"Is Five there?"

Luther "We don't know where he is."

"Oh, that's great." You say as you start to pace back and forth.

Allison "Hey, I'm sure that he is fine." She reassured me, "Five is just being Five right now. He'll be back. He always comes back."

"Yeah.."

Vanya "Are you coming with us?"

"Uhm, no I'll just stay here incase Five comes back. Plus, I'm gonna help my dad when he comes back with the groceries."

Vanya "Oh okay! I had so much fun with you today, its so nice to have a nice family member-"

Klaus and Allison "HEY!.." they shouted in unison.

Vanya "I love you both, you know that." They agreed and a few minutes later, they all leave you all alone, in the apartment with your thoughts.

~~~

Five's p.o.v.

I still have Lila pinned underneath my foot, struggling to get me off of her but i let her suffer for a little longer. She deserves it.

"I gotta admit, it was clever. Having her come into my brother's life, deceiving him.."

Handler chuckles, "I thought that you'd appreciate the gesture."

"And let me guess, she is your dau-"

Handler "Daughter, yes. My one and only. So I'd appreciate it if you let her off of the ground." I do as she says, and Lila starts coughing from her air circulation being cut off for a little too long. She gets up after stumbling few a few seconds, then she gets in my face.

Lila "I am thoroughly going to enjoy killing you one day." I couldn't help but chuckle at that remark.

Handler "Alright dear, you had your fun. Now run along, we need to have a little chatty chat."

"Yes, the grownups need to have a talk." She snickers but then she remembers who her 'mother' is, so she obeys. The next few minutes made my head spin. The Handler gave me an ultrasound; kill the current head of the Commission for a way back to the present year, with no complications. How can i trust her? She has tried to kill me so many times that i have lost track, as well as had targets be put on my wife's life as well. Not even including her attempts on killing my entire family. But unfortunately, i am running out of options and especially, time.

Handler "So, what do ya say Five? Are you in?"

"I need time to think." I say as i start to make my way towards the door.

Handler "Tik tok number Five! I am all you have left!"

"Not yet you aren't." With that being the last words, i blinked and i end up in the restaurant that my father sent me the location for. I was hesitant to come but of course, if anyone, he'll know what to do. And as for Y/n, she'll be okay for an hour or two without me, right?

~~~

You were about to call your father to see what was taking him so long at the store when you hear a cat's meow, coming from the hallway. You have no pet's in the house. You chase the sound and you find an orange kitten, sitting in the middle of your kitchen.

"Hi there sweetheart! Where did you come fro-?" In seconds, you were hit on the back of the head. When you awake, you are tide in a chair in the middle of the balcony drop off area. 'What the fuck?' You think to yourself. You try to move but your hands and legs were bound. 'If only my knife was in my pocket..' the next moment, two men with white hair are standing in front of me.

"Who the fuck are you?" You ask sternly.

"Where is Diego?" The man asked in Swedish.

"Go fuck yourself." The man snickers and hits you in the face hard enough to make you bleed. I slit out the led taste in my mouth and i chuckle, "is that all ya got?" They kept hitting me and asking me where Five and his family is. But i would have never told them where they were. They kept hitting you until your vision became blurry. Only until then, did they stop.

"She isn't going to tell you, brother." He mumbled to the skinny older man. "Better wait until someone else comes home.." shit..my dad.

"What do you want with Diego anyway huh? What did he do to you huh? Did he look at ya the wrong way?" You cockily ask, which earns you another punch to the stomach that took your breath away. "You really think that you are get away with this?" You ask in swedish. Earning a frightening stare from them. "Who sent you here? Was it a woman?" They do not answer, what they do is look at each other and that is an answer to you. "If so, she is my boss." You say with a smirk on your face, "and she will not be happy when i tell her that two pathetic swedes broke into my apartment and tried to kill me." They eldest starts to laugh, and lowers himself to get into your face.

"You are lying." Before you can speak, a blade goes through your stomach. But you are used to this. You are an assassin and that job comes with getting tortured half of the time. You were gonna speak again but you all hear the lock to the front door turn. It was your dad. You try to scream, but you are instantly smothered by a hand, much more massive than yours. Covering your nose and mouth.

"Put her in the closet!" The eldest ordered the tallest, and he obeys. You see your father but he does not see you. The man hides himself behind the wall, trying to not be seen. You hear your father put down the groceries and then everything goes dark again.

_____________________________________

By the time you wake up, it was the morning after. You hear Diego screaming for you and you whimper as a response.

"I-I'm in here" you try your hardest to shout but your wound is making that impossible. Within a few seconds, Diego and Luther pull you out of the cloest. The sunlight hurts your eyes and every touch is killing you.

Diego "Hey, hey look at me-"

"Where is Five?"

Diego "Five is fine, you're gonna be okay-where does it hurt?"

Luther "Diego she's been fucking stabbed!"

"Go-go get my med kit that i keep under my bed." I whisper to him and he runs towards my room. "Where is my dad? Is he okay?" Diego looks away from me, "Diego? Where is my dad?!" Panic starts rushing through my veins, giving me the adrenaline that i need to stay away through the pain.

Diego "I'm sorry Y/n." He says as he unties my ankles.

"What?!"

Diego "He's gone."

"Where is he?!" Diego tries to stop you, but you get up and you run throughout the house. The pain was irrelevant to you in this moment. All you wanted to do is see him. What you find, is mortifying. He was in his computer chair, with knives sticking out of his chest and mouth. This was not supposed to happen. He was not supposed to die here. He was meant to die of old age. Not murder in this timeline. How can this be real? You fall to your knees in front of your father, shouting 'im so sorry' over and over again, uncontrollably sobbing. Diego holds onto you as you grieve. That was until Five blinks into the apartment, finding his wife on the floor, her face is bloodied and bruise, and she has a stab wound to her torso. And Elliot, is dead. How could this have happened within an hour or two of him being away from you? What is happening..?

You don't even care about Five's presence right now. All you want to do is hold onto your father. But Five pulls you away from the situation.

Five "What the hell happened here?!"

Luther "We just came back, just like you! We found Elliot and then we found Y/n in the closet." He grabs you by the waist, snapping you out of your weeping state.

Five "Honey, you've been stabbed, you are bleeding out-please let me help you."

"Where were you?" His eyes began to water for the first time since the very first apocalypse, "why weren't you here?"

Five "Y/n, I'm here now-please..i need to stitch this, you'll die if i don't help you!" You felt like saying, let me die, but you don't. You give in to Five and he sweeps you off of your feet and carries you to the bathroom.

Five "Take care of Elliot please, we need to give him a proper burial. I need to take care of her."

Luther "We got it, go on-hurry!" He does just that. Your pain was flooding back into your wound, and you cannot stop screaming.

"Fuck!" You say as Five places you down into the bathtub to contain all of the blood.

Five "It's okay, hey-hey, look at me!" You connect your eyes to his own, "I'm not gonna lose you again, do you here me. I can't." You slowly blink and he knows that that was your answer, "This is just like the last time baby, remember?"

"Of course i remember, how could i forget-?!" He applies alcohol, making every part of your body tense up from the excruciating pain.

Five "Shh, shh, keep talking to me baby. What do you remember?"

"I remember we both got hurt during that mission, but you didn't care about yourself. Yo-you made sure that i was gonna make it before you took care of yourself." You say forced out in between him applying pressure, and sterilizing the stitching equipment to prepare. "Thats when i knew that ya really liked me." He pauses and smiles at you.

Five "I've loved you from the moment i met you Y/n. I could never let anyone hurt you. But i couldn't always stop it."

"Hey, this is what we are trained for. We get used to it after a while, don't we?"

Five "yeah."

"Five-" he starts stitching your wound, making you hault.

Five "I know-just breathe, keep talking to me!"

"Where were you? You have been gone for hours."

Five "She's back babe..i spoke to her."

"That's impossible. You told me that she got shot-"

Five "Yeah, she did. But she's back and she offered me a deal." He blurts out as he finishes up the stitching. "I told her that i needed time to think."

"She did this. She ordered the killing?"

Five "I don't know baby.."

"Of course she did Five. Who else would want me dead?"

Five "Who did this, who was here?"

"They were Swedish. It was two of them. They were shocked that i could speak Swedish and that i wasn't afraid."

Five "They are part of the Commission. They tried to kill me and Diego at the Ball the other night."

"Who were they really after?"

Diego "Me." He says from the doorway with tears in his eyes. "They are after me." Five looks at his brother with rage in his eyes. Any minute longer, and you would be dead right now.

"Why you?"

Five "Lila, i am certain."

Diego "Everyone wants us dead Five!"

Five "Raise your voice at me again, and i will kill you myself." Diego doesn't say another word, so you break the silence. But it was hard, hence you are on the verge of passing out from the loss of blood and the pain you were dealing with.

"Why are they targeting you Diego? Do you know?"

Diego "No, i don't. But when i find out, i promise you, I'll avenge your father's death Y/n..i-i'm sorry. Neither of you deserved this.."

"I'm not angry at you Diego, none of this was supposed to happen. My father was supposed to die of old age..i saw him die of old age before..none of this was supposed to happen. Someone is making it happen."

Five "It's her. It's always her."

"We need to kill her Five. Once and for all."

Five "We will. I promise Y/n. Even if its the last thing we ever do..she will die." You nod and your eyes get heavy. "Okay, time to get you cleaned up, c'mere.." he looks at his brother, still standing in the doorway with his thumb up his ass. "Can you make yourself useful and help me hold her up so i can clean her own blood off of her please." Diego wipes his tears off of his cheek, man's up, and help's his brother.

"M-my clothes.."

Five "Its okay honey, don't worry about your clothes right now, i just need to get ya better okay?"

"Hey..look at me." He obliges and instantly, it was like Diego wasn't even in the room, "i know that if you could have been there, you would have been. I am sorry for asking you where you were, i just can't believe my father died for absolutely no reason at all. Just because he came home at the wrong time."

Five "i can't change what happened. And fuck, i wish that it didn't..but we will avenge him, all of us will. Your father was a great man." You nod as you begin to cry, but you hault when your stitches sting your stomach. "Woah..no more tears." You take a deep breath and you turn your sadness into anger. That is what kept you alive all this time. Anger. After you were clean and dried, Five places you into your room and he lays with you for a little while. Yes, doomsday is coming, but his wife was almost killed, doomsday is second on his mind.

Five "How are you feeling now?"

"Angry."

Five snickers, "Good. You can use that."

"I always do."

Five "All of this will end. We will get our lives back, and she will be gone. And affter we do that, let's get married again." That made you lift up out of shock.

"What?"

Five "Marry me again." Your smile begins to tug at the corner of your lips, "when this is all over, me and you, let's do it all over again."

"You would want too?"

Five "More than anything." You crash your lips onto his own, and his smiles. When you pull back, he speaks again. "We have been through hell and back hun. I've been gone for five years, away from you for that long i-..i just want to make everything right again. I always mess things up and i just want to make you realize that i love you more than anyone and anything."

"And i love you Five."

Five "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." He kisses you again and it is like your wound was gone and nothing bad ever happened. Now, you have another reason to stay alive; marry your soulmate after you save the world.

_____________________________________

Five's p.o.v

As soon as Y/n is fast asleep, i leave her to go see the Handler. My father told me to start using my powers in seconds instead of jumping hours, years or decades. That can be useful, but it is not what i need to hear right now. I need to save my family. I need to save my wife. So i make another deal with the devil.

Handler "Ah, just in time for happy hour! Come, sit!"

"So," i say as i shut the door behind me, "if i do this, you will give me the time to make it back to the present day? No more doomsday..?"

Handler "No more doomsday." I take the card that she hands to me and it tells me the date and the location of where it will take place. I take a deep breath and i blink back to my wife's apartment. I must tell her what I am doing. If she does not agree, than i will find another way to save everyone.

It is the early morning when i make it back to everyone and Y/n, is very weak.

Five "Hi sweetheart."

Y/n "Hi. You speak to her?" I don't answer her, i simply hand her the card that she handed to me. She takes a second to read it and she snickers. "I guess we have a day mission."

I tisk my tongue and i cup her cheeks, "I'm doing this one alone baby. You rest."

Y/n "I'm fine."

"Okay." I hand her a knife and she take it in her own, "Try to kill me."

Y/n "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me. If you are ready, then prove it. Try to kill me. If you get me on the ground, then you can come."

Luther "Five, seriously?!" He says with a mouthful of food in his mouth.

Klaus "Oh, I'd like to see this actually." He says as he puts his feet up on the dining room table.

"C'mon. Just like the Commission days." She starts swinging, and i dodge every swing. She keeps it up, even though she is in obvious pain. She gets a few punches in me, before i grab her, and she instantly cries out. I had to stop her before she ripped her stitches out.

"I told you, you need to rest." She rests her head on my shoulder and i hold onto her as she calms her heartrate down. "You still got it though, you got me good!" I wipe a little bit of blood off of my mouth and she finally has the strength to raise her face to look up at me.

Y/n "I need to come with you Five. I need to ask her if she ordered it."

"You will get the time to ask her before we put a bullet in her skull sweetheart." He said kindly but sternly. "I need you to stay home, while i take care of this. When i come back, we will do a memorial service for Elliot and then we can do whatever you want. Deal?" She thinks for a moment before she nods her head.

Y/n "Deal." I lean down and kiss her forehead, cheek and then lips. Before i blink into the building of my opponent. 'This should be fun,' i think to myself.

...

When he blinks, everyone is staring at you. You pause. And then you finally ask them, "what?!"

Klaus "I am just so baffled!"

"Baffled? About what?"

Klaus "Seeing Five love another human being, it is just-" he makes an explosion noise with his mouth, making everyone laugh, including you.

"Well, he loves all of you too. If he didn't, he wouldn't be trying to save all of hiu again."

Allison "I've never thought about it that way before."

Vanya "I don't really remember anythint from our childhood."

"I'm sure that everyone will fill you in. But just remember that they all love you. Isn't that what really matters?"

Vanya "Yeah, it does."

Luther "You truly are the best thing to ever happen to this fucked uo family." He blurts out.

Klaus "Isn't she? It just adds to the question as to why she married Five!"

"Oh come on!" The conversation lasted hours before your pain became to unbearable. "I gotta go rest guys..husband's orders." They agreed and they let you climb into bed and you shut your eyes. And then you remember where Five was headed and you decided to get dressed in a suit, and made your way to the building that Five would be at. You have to speak to the Handler. Even if it gets you killed, you need to hear it in her own words that she ordered the murder of your father.

...

After Five has the head master all to himself-after killing everyone in the meeting room-the man begs for him to spare his life.

"Is there anything i can do to make you reconsider?!"

Five "I don't think so." Seconds later, Five breaks the fish bowl, and the mission was complete. He watched the fish flop until it stopped flopping completely and raises his head in satisfaction.

Then, he walks out of the building with the fish in a small bag and waited for the Handler to join him in an alleyway. Once she does, he hands her the fish bag and she gasps.

Handler "I can always count on you, Number Five."

Five "Now, it is time for you to do your part."

Handler "Right. Well, i-" she pauses when she hears footsteps and Five does too. When he saw your face, his heartbeat rose to his throat and he could not feel his legs. Every sense in his body flared and he instantly felt sick to his stomach. "Ah! My sweetheart, what a surprise!"

Five "Y/n, what are you doing here?!"

"You know that i had to come. I had to ask you myself." You walk up to the woman and you look into her eyes. "Did you do it?"

Handler "Do what, my darling-?"

"Cut the darling bull crap! My father was killed last night, by two Swedes in my father's apartment." You unbutton your blouse, exposing your stitches to her and she gasps. "If my brother-in-law's didn't come home when they did, i too would be dead."

Handler "Y/n.."

"Did you order it?!" You shouted at her and she takes a step back while Five looks at you, then back at her, waiting to hear her answer.

Handler "I would never order a hit on you Y/n. I love you like a daughter, you know that!"

"Then why were the Swedes sent to my house?!"

Handler "I ordered a hit on Diego, not expecting them to actually pull through!"

Five snickers, "Of course you did."

Handler "Oh come on Five, it's just business."

"So my father was never the intended target?"

Handler "No sweetheart. And neither were you." You nod and take another step forward, take a deep breath and turn to Five.

"I'm sorry that i came here even though you told me not too-"

Five "Y/n-"

"I love you." You say as you take your gun out of your back pocket, and aim it at the Handler, but before she could shoot you first, Five blinks the both of you to an abandoned lot in the middle of nowhere. When you land, you land on your stomach. Five, of course, lands on his feet. He see's you lying there and he falls to his knees in relief. A second late, and you would be dead. The Handler is too quick for you. She is too quick for anyone and Five knew that. And so did you, but you did not care.

Five "Y/n what the fuck was that?!" You didn't answer, "do you have a death wish?!"

"I'm so tired Five." His rage sombered when you said that. He has not come to realize that what you have been through in the last twenty-four hours have been immensely difficult and depressing. "And she deserved it."

Five "Yes, she does. But we need to do it correctly Y/n. If we do it your way, then we both die." You let your head fall in embarrassment. You let your rage get the best of you and it almost got you and the love of your life killed.

Five "Hey," he gets down beside you, "we have wedding plans remember?"

You giggle as you wipe your tears away, "I remember."

Five "Than we must stay alive in order to get married again honey."

"I'm so sorry."

Five "I am not mad at you sweetheart, i almost lost you..again! Do not apologize for the Handler's mistakes."

"How do we do this Five? How can we beat her?"

Five "We have to do it together."

"All of us?"

Five shakes his head, "All of us."

@moriartysringtone7137 @mxstoney-blog @noellehnsherr

@dyor @s0ftd3m0n @itzel17

@qualitymugghostrebel @oh-chuck-help-me @cocoa-creampuff @asphodelshare

@lilablosom @jellytoru @natsgaygf

@claudiachaotic

#aidan gallagher #the umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #love in the midst of doomsday

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

Speak Easy Part 4

Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Words : 5206

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

************************************************************************

Dabi’s frustration only grew when he saw your excited expression. All the sudden all he could think of was the was the way that Bakubrat had kissed the top of your head the last time he had seen you.

Dabi readjusted you so you were on his back and put his hands firmly on your thighs. He’ll admit he’s being ridiculous, but he wanted to keep you out of reach from the explosive idiot.

You were practically buzzing with excitement. You had missed your friends. Even though you had seen them a few weeks ago, it wasn’t nearly good enough, you felt like you didn’t have enough time to actually thank them for saving you. You had known all of them from high school except you had known Katsuki and Izuku much longer. You all had known each other since you were kids. Katsuki was always the one pulling your pigtails while Izuku was always the one to let you paint his fingernails.

That mentality pretty much stayed the same as you all got older. Katsuki would still relentlessly tease you but he was always much meaner to any of the guys who hit on you. There was a rumor that went around that your quirk made you super good in bed and it had every guy chasing after you for the wrong reasons. He never hesitated to hit first and ask questions later when men cat called you in his presence.

Katsuki had always had a very special place in your heart. He had always been your protector as well as your biggest supporter. There were so many times he and Izuku had talked you out of quitting school. Every so often an article would circulate about how villainous your quirk was and how you deserved to be locked up. The pressure would eventually get to you and you would end up in one of their rooms pacing and holding back tears. They helped you learn to love your quirk, but Katsuki was the one who secretly worked with you on weekends to help you get stronger. He thought if he showed you that you were more than just your quirk you would finally stop listening to all the fucking gossip blogs.

You kept bouncing with excitement the entire time Dabi walked towards the front door. He paused a few steps away and gave your thigh a sharp slap. “Hey, quit that. If you keep bouncing like that, I’m going to drop you. Behave.”

You wondered what crawled up his ass. He was just praising you a few minutes ago and now he’s grumpy. There’s no way he could be that mad about Katsuki coming to visit. He knew this was going to happen. He was holding you when Katsuki promised as much. You understood that he didn’t really get along with most people, and Katsuki was honestly kind of hard to get along with in the first place. But that still didn’t give him the right to be so pissed about him being here.

Dabi opened the door but remained in the doorway, effectively blocking Katsuki from entering. “Can we help you?”

Katsuki had a duffle bag on his shoulder as well as a box at his feet. “You could start by letting me in asshole.” He looked at you and his scowl softened just slightly, “Hey dork. Think you could convince your chauffeur to get out of the way?”

You giggled and gave Dabi’s neck a pinch. Dabi responded by giving your thigh a pinch, “Eye for an eye brat. You want me to let him in? I think I deserve an entrance fee?” He pointed towards his cheek as if he was asking for a kiss.

Katsuki’s eyes traveled from where Dabi’s hand was firmly squeezing your thigh to where he was pointing at his cheek. They were furious. He was about to just shove his was through when you wrapped your arms tight around Dabi’s neck and leaned backwards. Effectively throwing his body weight off and giving Katsuki more than enough room to enter the house.

He quickly let himself in and made his way over to the couch where he dumped the box he was holding. “Alright so here’s your first care package.”

“Don’t see why it needed to hand delivered…” Dabi dropped you on the couch next to the box so you could rummage through it.

Katsuki quickly took the empty spot next to you, totally ignoring Dabi. “I brought you a couple new manga that I know you’ll like, and I think Deku added a bunch of pictures and shit from your old apartment.” He reached over you into the box and pulled out a shirt and you grinned ear to ear. It was an old All Might shirt that you had stolen from Katsuki years ago because you liked how soft it was.

He smiled and put his arm around you, “I thought you might like that. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been wearing it in your absence. So, it might smell like me.”

Dabi walked by grabbing Katsuki’s arm and casually flung it off your shoulder. Then without a word started going through the box. “Did you remember the bathing suit?”

You could hear Katsuki’s palm’s crackle with irritation, “Yes… I did. But don’t get your pervy hopes up. I got the most conservative one I could find.” There he goes being overprotective for no reason… well that wasn’t exactly fair he did have a reason. He had just found you in the most horrendous condition possible and immediately had to hand you off to a former villain who kidnapped him in his youth… so yeah. You decided you were going to cut him some slack.

“Well considering it’s for her fucking rehabilitation…she could be naked for all I care. As long as she’s comfortable and gets those damn legs moving.” Dabi could feel his temper starting to get the better of him. Considering Bakugo was known for having the worlds shortest fuse, he needed to keep his cool. He could not be the one to snap first.

“Oi! Don’t act like carrying her around is such a burden!” Bakugo stood up now squaring off with Dabi.

Dabi’s eyes flared but his voice remained even, “I never said it was a burden… In fact, I love carrying her around. However, I don’t plan on making it a habit because I want her to get better.” His voice dipped and got angrier, “And don’t you talk about her as if she’s not sitting in the same room as us! She can speak for herself…”

He looked at you and you gave him a pointed look. ~Calm down please.~

He took a deep breath and signed back, ~Trying~

Katsuki looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “When did you guys learn sign language?”

Dabi walked into the kitchen and started making dinner. If Bakugo wanted to make a house call, he needed to let him have his fun. He’d be leaving soon enough, he just needed to let the two of you be until then. “We started learning a couple weeks ago.” He pulled out two bowls because that’s how passive aggressive he is. If that asshat didn’t get the hint by the time dinner was ready, then he’d just have to sit there and watch you eat.

Dabi had to stop for a moment and contemplate this. Why was he this mad? Why did he actually care this much? You were obviously going to be close with the loudmouth. You’d known him for a long time. He needed to remember that just because you lived with him now doesn’t mean that you even want to be here. For all he knows you’re just tolerating him because you have to. It’s not like the two of you have lots of late-night conversations.

He looked over when he realized it had been pretty quiet and saw that the two of you were speaking in sign. His hands on yours helping you with a new word. “Okay so obviously you know sign too.”

Katsuki had a shit eating grin. “The doctors told my mom when I was young, I’d eventually go deaf due to my quirk. I’m basically fluent.” He continued to sit and teach you new words and damn if you weren’t happier than he had seen in the past two weeks.

Dabi rolled his eyes as he went back to making dinner. “Go ahead and teach her whatever you want. Be fucking useful for once.” Dabi continued to make dinner, shoulders tensing every time he heard you giggle.

Katsuki had his phone out and was showing you everything you had missed. “Okay so surprise, surprise, Deku and IcyHot are like a thing now.” He showed a couple cute pictures from Izuku’s private Instagram. The last one was of them kissing under an umbrella. “Kiri and Mina had a kid. Little rascal is probably about six months old now. He’s cute but his teeth hurt like hell.” He picked up his hand that had a tiny crescent shaped scar, which had you absolutely grinning.

He ruffled your hair, “Oi, you won’t be smiling when the brat bites you next.” He continued to scroll, “OH! I almost forgot the best part.” He turned his phone to you and showed you a picture of someone’s mug shot. “Fucking grape juice got arrested.”

Your eyes widened. You waited for him to go one when you realized he was waiting on you. He was giving you an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. ~Why?~

“Trying to buy a prostitute… Literally no one was surprised.” He looked back to the kitchen to make sure Dabi wasn’t listening. When he was satisfied, he pulled you closer into his side and threw his arm around you. “Hey, you would let me know if he was mistreating you right?” His fingers carded through your hair and his eyes roamed all your visible skin for signs of abuse.

You nodded your head and pulled your shirt further down, suddenly aware that you weren’t wearing pants. You had just gotten so used to it you had forgotten. He noticed you fidgeting, “He hasn’t touched you, has he? Because I swear to God I’ll rip out every single staple in his body then make him eat them.”

You leaned further into his to side to hide your blush. He most certainly had touched you. And you still hadn’t worked out how you felt about it. He hadn’t made any attempt to do it again beyond the casual touches when he carried you or when he helped you in the pool. He had made it a habit of sleeping in your room, but he always stayed on his side of the bed.

Katsuki must have taken your lack of response as a confirmation. “I’m going to kill him.”

You sat up straight and started shaking your head, ~No. No. Wrong~

“Wrong? So, he hasn’t touched you then?”

You gulped. Either way you answered was bad. You either told him the truth and he rage killed Dabi, or you lied to your best friend… Either way you were fucked.

As you struggled for an answer Dabi walked in and handed you your bowl of curry and rice. “Don’t worry I’ll answer that one for you, and stop at me at any point you think I got it wrong.” He took his seat in a recliner and took a bite of his meal. “So, we had a moment where something could have happened, but we stopped before it got too far and decided we were just being emotional and moved on.”

Katsuki’s hand started to heat up and crackled but you pulled on his arm to get his attention, ~Right~

He still looked angry, and maybe even a little hurt, which had you all confused again. He looked like he wanted to throw one of his famous temper tantrums. You knew how much it was killing him to not pounce on Dabi, “Keep your disgusting hands to yourself from now on. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you taking advantage of her!”

“You don’t speak for her!”

You clapped your hands to get their attention, ~Enough~ You gave each of them a glare and it was silent after that.

You took a bite of your dinner to avoid Katsuki’s eyes and was met with the most delicious meal Dabi had made to date. You cleared your throat to get Dabi’s attention. You pointed to Katsuki then your bowl of food and signed ~where~?

“I didn’t think a busy hero like him would have time to stick around for dinner.” He continued to pick at his food, “Speaking of which. It’s getting late. Hate to keep you from your super important work of dress up and make believe.”

Katsuki gestured to the duffle bag he carried in. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere tonight.” He was looking at you now. A look of concern ghosted across his face. “Consider it a wellness check.” He leaned forward and gave the side of your head a soft peck, “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I intend to keep that promise.”

You felt yourself sinking into his familiar warmth. If there was anyone who felt like home, it was Katsuki. Sure, he was in the middle of a ridiculous pissing contest with Dabi at the moment, but you really couldn’t blame him. He’d always been a stubborn, territorial, asshole. But he was also kind he cared about you and for that you could forgive him.

“Whatever, just don’t get in the way of our routine.” Dabi stood up with his now empty bowl. “You know that law, eat every last bite. I’ll get your bath started while you finish.” He looked at Katsuki, “You can have my room… I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He didn’t even wait for a response as he left the two of you alone.

Katsuki visibly relaxed into the couch once Dabi had left the room. “What did he mean by law?”

You smiled as you pulled out your journal and opened it up for him. You pointed to law number seven. At first, he was pissed that Dabi would give you a new set of rules to live by, like you were some kid. But then he realized there wasn’t a single “law” on here that didn’t have your best interest in mind.

His eyes scanned over the rest. Chuckling at some silly laws like ‘Wake up whenever the hell you want’, and ‘No fucking shrugging.’ He had to admit that he also hated it when you would do that. It wasn’t that you were indecisive. It was that you knew what you wanted but you never wanted to speak up for yourself. Always willing to bend over backwards to make others happy. Never wanting to give anyone any more reason to dislike you.

His heart hurt at the laws that said things like, ‘No drugs’, ‘No locked doors’, and ‘Never say sorry for something that isn’t your fault.’

The law that had his blood boiling however was the last one, law number thirteen. ‘I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.’ He furiously flipped through the pages that came after, trying to get the idea of you ever giving Dabi consent to touch you out of his mind.

You had finished your food by now and stretched your muscles out. All in all, this had been a great day. You walked on your own in the pool AND Katsuki had come to visit. You were so tired you just knew you would fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Hopefully you wouldn’t have any nightmares.

You put your hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and used it to push yourself to your feet. You wobbled for a few seconds but otherwise kept your footing.

“Hey look at you! I thought you’d be too tired after what we did in the pool today, good job.” You looked up to see Dabi leaning in the hallway. “Your bath is ready. One for me, two for blondie.”

Katsuki scrunched his nose up, “Wha-“

You held up two fingers and Dabi nodded. “Alright looks like you get bath time duty today.” Dabi smirked when Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Don’t freak out. She’s gotten to the point where she can get in on her own and some days she can even get out too. You just need to hang out by the door in case she needs help.

You wound your arms around Katsuki’s neck, and he picked you up. His heart pounded as he followed Dabi to what he assumed was your room. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Hey wouldn’t be the first time we bathed together.”

You giggled and hit his shoulder. You knew he meant when you were kids. But you couldn’t stop the blush that took over you at the thought of him just hopping in the tub with you now.

Dabi tensed up as he stopped at the door to your room. “Alright… y/n you know the drill if you need me just yell.” He winked at you after his stupid joke and you flipped him off.

He walked back to the kitchen and opened his laptop. He started to go over tomorrow’s sign language lesson early. He’d never tell you this, but he does this every day. You were so much better at picking it up then him, he needed to do extra work just to keep up.

You signed ~Thank you~ as Katsuki placed you down next to the full tub.

“Okay… so I guess you just let me know if you need me by…?”

You shrugged as you knocked on the side of the tub. Part of you really didn’t want him to leave, even if it was only for a few minutes. You reached out and grabbed his wrist.

He gave you a curious look, but softened when you signed back, ~Stay~

“Does he usually stay?”

You shook your head, Dabi always insisted he had things to do and it was important you do some things on your own.

Katsuki took a seat on the floor with his back against the tub. Even with permission he was determined to protect your modesty. You slipped your clothes off and quickly lifted your legs into the tub. It was almost too easy now and you smiled at your progress.

You sighed as the water warmed your skin. Your hand reached for Katsuki’s and gave it a squeeze. You could see the tension in his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back before intertwining your fingers.

“Y/n… I -I know I’ve already said I’m sorry. But I still have this mountain of guilt sitting on my chest. You were… are… one of the most important people in my life. And I was so wrapped up in my own life I didn’t see the signs. I didn’t notice that something was wrong.” You could hear his voice crack as he tried to hold his emotions down. “I knew you went on secret missions that you couldn’t always talk about. I watched as you came back looking defeated and… and broken. I thought there was something going on, but I just kept reminding myself you worked with heroes… that I was just being paranoid.”

You felt tears build in your eyes and you were glad he wasn’t looking at you. You rubbed circles on his hand with your thumb encouraging him to keep going. He obviously had a lot he had been bottling up. “You know Deku and I went to your agency one day after you had been gone for a few months and all they told us was your mission was confidential, and we weren’t related to you so they couldn’t even tell us if you were okay.” He sniffled, “I went there every day after work and got the same bull shit answer. It drove me crazy.”

He took a deep breath to settle himself, “So we started asking about you. Started looking for you in all the underground trading routes.” A long silence followed as he got lost in the memories of looking for you. “It almost took us a year, but we finally found someone who had seen you. Some small-time villain whose quirk was invisibility. He had snuck into your agency to try and break his boss out. But when he found him you were also in the room…”

He didn’t keep going, and for that you were grateful because you didn’t want to hear it. You knew what came next and you didn’t exactly want to relive it.

“I’m so sorry. I failed you. I was supposed to protect you. I promised you I’d be by your side forever, and I-I-“

You pulled his hand towards you and gave it a kiss before putting his palm on your cheek. He hesitantly turned and looked at you with tears in his eyes. You activated your quirk and washed over him with feelings of love and understanding. You watched his eyes close as he shuttered. You may not be able to speak, but you could still communicate to him through feeling that you were okay.

You reached over and brushed a stray tear away and pulled him close to plant a kiss on his forehead.

When your bath was over, he waited for you to wrap yourself in a towel before picking you up and depositing you gently on your bed. You pulled the All Might shirt he had brought with him over your head, and crawled under the covers.

He had only wanted to lay there until you fell asleep, but he ended up falling asleep soon after you.

Dabi walked in hoping to tell you goodnight but found the two of you asleep facing each other. You under the covers, Bakugo on top of the covers. Your hands stretched out towards each other as if looking for each other even in sleep.

Dabi’s hands were glowing with livid flames as he left in a hurry.

He went straight to the abandoned cabinet that held all of the now off-limits drugs. He could take just one… you would never know.

He growled as he shoved the bottle back into the cabinet and slammed the door. Reaching instead for a bottle of whiskey. He went to the couch and poured himself a drink.

And that’s how you and Bakugo found him the next day. Passed out on the couch empty whisky bottle on the floor next to him.

Dabi chugged his coffee as his head pounded. He was no stranger to hangovers, but ever since you came to live with him, he hadn’t felt the need to drink that much. At one point in his life it had been the only way he could get any decent sleep.

He watched from his seat at the kitchen island as you and Bakugo made breakfast. The smell of bacon hit him and his stomach growled. Shit.

You could see his sour expression and when Bakugo wasn’t looking you stood from the chair you were sitting in. Dabi kept his eyes on you like a hawk. Watching for any signs you might fall. You stumbled but he remained still. He knew you were okay. The Island was right there if you needed to hold on to it. You were only a few steps away from him now. Arms stretched out and a smile on your face.

You knew this would cheer him up, and get him out of whatever shitty mood he was in. Only one more step and you’d be there. To this Dabi stood up and took a step away from you with a playful look in his eye as if to say come and get me.

Bakugo continued to talk, not even noticing you weren’t sitting behind him anymore. It wasn’t until the loud thud of you hitting the tile floor that he looked up. He immediately rushed to you while Dabi laughed.

“Why the fuck are you laughing? She could be hurt!”

Dabi just continued to laugh, “I’m laughing because it’s fucking funny. She’s fine.” He titled his head to the side. “You’re a tough cookie aren’t yeah y/n?”

You giggled and nodded. Dabi took you from Bakugo’s embrace “See she’s fine. I think you need to remember she used to be a pro hero. I think she can handle tripping over her own feet.” He stood up and sat you down in front of the laptop.

“Okay time to learn some sign language, looks like today’s all about food. Oh good, you love food.” He ruffled your hair before picking a piece of bacon off of your plate and biting into it.

The little back and forth continued the entire day. The biggest argument came later when it was time for the pool. You groaned and decided you weren’t in the mood. ~No pool~

Dabi rolled his eyes at you, “Yes pool. You even have a bathing suit this time. So, get your ass in gear.”

You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. “Listen here brat. It’s the law. We work on getting your strength back every single day. No negotiations.”

Bakugo didn’t like the tone Dabi was talking to you in. “Oi, she’s not some puppet for you to boss around. She said she doesn’t want to so that’s it. Back off!”

Dabi’s eyes flared with anger, “You don’t have a fucking say in this. This is between me and her.” He looked at you again, “If you had asked nicely, I might have let this go. Just because we have a guest doesn’t mean you can disregard the laws and neglect the routine. Now be a good girl and let’s go put your bathing suit on.”

Bakugo stepped between you and Dabi, “Be a good girl? What the fuck is your problem. You don’t own her.”

Dabi pinched the bridge of his nose trying to remind himself why he can’t just fight the obnoxious asshole in font of him. “I don’t own her, but I also refuse to sit here and watch her wither away. We have laws to make her better, and I refuse to deviate. It’s clear I take her recovery more seriously than you do.”

Bakugo shoved Dabi back, “The fuck you do! This isn’t some rehab she checked into. You have no right to boss her around! What makes you think you know what’s best for her?”

Dabi was practically screaming now, “Because I’ve fucking been in her shoes, you ignorant ticking time bomb!” His chest was heaving now, “Did you ever wonder why I had to fake my own death just to get away from my own father… who was a fucking HERO! I’ve been poked and prodded and pushed past my limits. Except I didn’t have someone there to help me and I ended up in the League. Depressed, blood thirty, and hell bent on getting revenge on the so-called heroes that were so okay with a little boy practically killing himself every day just to produce the next number one.”

To this Bakugo didn’t have an answer. He’s heard Todoroki’s horror stories. He could only imagine what Endeavor had put Dabi through.

Dabi looked at you know eyes still furious, “I’ll make you a deal y/n. You put on quite the show this morning taking a few steps on your own. No matter how mad I am, I’ll never tell you that wasn’t a good job. But now you want to skip the very thing that allowed you to take those steps.” He walked out of the kitchen and took a seat in his recliner. “Make it over to me right now, with no help and we can skip the pool.”

With a determined scowl you pushed yourself out of your seat. Bakugo went to grab you “Y/n you don’t have to do-“

“Yes! She does, now let her do it. She needs this. Y/n you can do this. Now prove it to me and prove it to yourself.”

You took your first step, determination written all over you face. Step followed step and you had already walked further than you had this morning, but you were only about halfway there.

Dabi’s eyes were patient and his voice was calm. “Come on y/n. You can do this. You aren’t broken. There is nothing wrong with you. Just keep walking.”

You could feel the tension in the room stiffen. Bakugo watched you with his hands out as if to catch you, always your protector, always your safety net. But you didn’t need that right now.

Your knees started to wobble and buckle, and involuntary whine left your lip as you went down to one knee.

“Come on you can’t give up now. You’re doing such a good job. Now push yourself back up. I’m right here. Come on. Push harder!”

You felt a tear streak down your cheek as you tried to push yourself up but only ended up on the ground.

Bakugo was at your side in an instant but you pushed him away.

“That’s right y/n you can do this. I believe in you. I don’t care if you have to crawl. You’re so close.” You pulled yourself up enough to crawl across the rough carpet. You got up to your knees then slowly you stood.

Dabi saw the fire in your eyes and it sent a shiver down his spine. You were going to do this even if it killed you. It made him think about what you would look like in battle. If you looked even half as gritty as you do now he had no doubt you had strong men cowering at your feet. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he gave that back to you. That power, that strength, that untamable will, he knew was somewhere inside you laying dormant.

He got out of his recliner and lowered himself to the ground, “Come on your so close now. Keep going Y/N!”

With one last push you practically jumped into his arms and collapsed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but for the first time since coming here they were happy tears. You did it. You walked all on your own.

He cooed into your hair as he rocked you back and forth, “You did such a good job. You did it. I knew you could. You can rest now. I’ll get you some ice cream. How does that sound. We’ll celebrate.”

You nodded as you clutched Dabi’s shirt.

Bakugo disappeared for a few minutes and when he came back he had his bag over his shoulder. He kneeled down next to you and pressed his forehead to yours. “I think it’s time I got back to work. I still need to take down the bastards that did this to you.” He smoothed his fingers through your hair and looked to Dabi, “I think you’re in good hands.”

He made his way to the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

*****************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi todoroki #toya todoroki #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Lazerbeamy Strongman

Day One of Harringrove AUgust, prompt: Superhero AU

Steve Harrington, newly hired reporter and resident Wholesome Nice Guy, kept sidling over to Billy’s desk to read his interview questions. It was hard enough coming up with questions for a superhero who could fly, hold up falling skyscrapers, and shoot lasers from his eyes. The memory of the pulse of blue light blowing out the engine block of the armed robber’s getaway car made Billy shudder.

‘Are the lasers under complete control,’ he typed. ‘Could you be startled into vaporizing the city?’

Directly behind his chair, Harrington snorted a laugh.

“Shut up, Hawkins Indiana,” Billy told him.

Harrington didn’t move.

“Cut this shit out, or I’m squirting you with a bottle,” Billy told him, through a bite of ham’n’rye sandwich. “You keep climbing all up in my business, you’re gonna get Lysol between the eyes.”

“Sorry,” Harrington said, looking abashed, but his eyes still strayed to Billy’s screen, and Billy grabbed the Lysol, spraying a whole cloud as Steve dove back to his own desk. He ducked his head as the editor of the Planet walked by.

A few hours later, Billy caught him staring at the list of questions again, from way too far away, really—it wasn’t like Harrington could actually read Billy’s screen from the coffee machine, but he looked suspiciously intent, so Billy stalked over.

“Can you see my questions from there?! Are those huge nerd frames telescopic, or—just—what the fuck, dude,” he muttered, squinting over at his desk. He could make out that Microsoft Word was open, maybe. Maybe. “How the hell,” Billy growled, turning his glower on Harrington, who stared innocently out the window, sipping his coffee.

“How could I possibly,” Harrington said, not meeting Billy’s eyes as he drank the last of his mug of coffee, and Billy took the last of the coffee in the pot just to spite him, and stalked off.

Ten minutes later, he scooted his chair back and hit Harrington’s jeans with his elbow, and Harrington stumbled back, like he hadn’t been reading over Billy’s shoulder. “Are you a fucking cat?!” Billy hissed. “I’m gonna get one of those invisible fences and shock you every time you try to sneak my interview questions—”

“You’re better at interviews than me,” Steve told him, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck in the annoyingly ‘aw, shucks’ way Billy was fairly sure couldn’t be sincere. “Just interested.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have the opportunity to use these questions again,” Billy said drily. “Unless you’re gonna ask the next CEO you write up which planet he’s from, and how his clothes don’t burn off when he pulls people out of burning buildings.”

Harrington shrugged, grinning. “Um, I was actually gonna ask, what are you doing tonight? After wor—”

“Staking out the roof of the police department,” Billy told him, walking away to his desk—backwards, so he could yell. “He keeps leaving criminals up there. With notes! Thirty-percent higher chance on Friday nights!”

When the spandex-clad hero landed, cape aflutter, Billy leapt out. “To whom am I speaking?” he asked, in a breathless but calm professional voice.

“Just a moment, citizen,” said the hero, running his fingers through his hair and winking at Billy, and it was the first time he’d seemed like a real person, albeit a pickup artist, and not a comic book cliche.

He bent to handcuff three unconscious bruisers to the roof, prodding a muscled, fishnet-stockinged leg back towards the woman it belonged to. “Ah,” he said, when he stood back up, his hands on his hips like he’d practiced his dumb hero pose in the mirror. “I must go! Crime never waits!”

“What the hell,” Billy shouted after him, waving his notepad.

The next morning, Harrington looked smug. “How’d it go?” he asked, like he knew, and Billy sat on the asshole’s desk and drank, in turn, from both mugs of coffee. “Hey, isn’t that one mine?!” Harrington asked, and Billy stuck his tongue in it, swishing it around.

“Not anymore,” he said sweetly, and Harrington stared at him. “And it went great, obviously. He totally listened to his public and didn’t just fly off after acting like a shithead.”

“Wait, what’d he do?!” Harrington yelped, staring. “I—I read he, uh, he brought in the leaders of three different gangs!”

“Yeah, like a shithead,” Billy repeated, draining Harrington’s favorite mug, licking it, and handing it to him, empty. “And I froze my nuts off for four hours waiting for him to come back. That’s how it went. Shithead.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, frowning into his empty mug, as Billy wandered back to his desk with his own, ignoring Harrington’s mumbled “I mean, maybe—maybe he’s got to keep, like, his identity secret—”

“I didn’t ask for his goddamn alter ego, I was asking general shit,” Billy shot back, growling, and waving the hand without coffee in it. “Or I was going to!”

The next time Billy saw the shithead, he ran straight at him, dodging the falling debris, until abruptly he was flying.

“What are you doing,” the shithead hissed, his arms warm and strong as they carried Billy to the top of another damn building. “We’re under fire.”

“That’s your job,” Billy hissed at him. “My job is this damn interview. What kinds of disasters are you most likely to help with? Does Search and Rescue have your number?”

“Stay here,” the shithead commanded, and flew off, leaving Billy stranded on the top of a skyscraper. He spent the next hour trying to pinpoint the name of the building on Google Maps, before finally finding a number to call to let him in.

“I heard you ran right into the wreckage,” said Harrington, like he was worried, and Billy scoffed.

“I’ve worked warzones,” he said. “I can handle a car accident.”

“The viaduct collapsed,” Harrington said weakly, like a coward. “You were almost crushed by a flaming bus.”

“I also didn’t get even one question answered,” Billy muttered, glaring at the list on his screen, and Harrington stared from him to it. “I’m gonna have to grappling hook that shithead.”

“Um,” Harrington said, wincing. “He seems kind of...busy, usually, when he’s—”

“So am I,” Billy told him, reaching up and prodding his coworker’s shoulder. “I have won Pulitzers, I have better shit to do than spend my nights shouting questions at some shithead who can’t be assed to tell anyone his name, let alone answer some basic peace-of-mind questions like—” he made air quotes, “—‘to what degree do you feel obligated to help humanity?’”

“He’s kind of new,” Harrington said, wincing. “Maybe he doesn’t have, a um, a super...name, yet? Maybe he doesn’t want to say, like, ‘hello, good citizen, I am Lazerbeamy Strongman’—”

“Oh jesus,” Billy snorted, choking on his coffee.

“Hello, I’m Captain Awesomesauce,” Harrington groaned, his cheeks red for some reason. “I’m Rad-Dude.”

“Oh fuck me,” Billy coughed out, cackling. “So you’re saying he’s a moron.”

“I did not,” Harrington huffed, and Billy grinned at him.

“Are you a fan, Harrington? I saw you run right over to look at the latest pictures of him. That why you’re trying to edge in on my interview?”

“No!” Harrington groaned, rolling his eyes. “I just think you put all this...thought into this, and maybe he’s just helping out, you know, like anybody. Like if somebody calls the police on a purse snatcher, you don’t ask them why, or like, how much help they’re gonna be in future—”

“He wears a cape,” Billy pointed out. “He put a goddamn cape on, and he’s wearing some kind of themed onesie, and he says stuff like ‘Hello, innocent bystander,’ and that’s all weird as hell, so he better answer some questions. This isn’t somebody who was just there—he came on purpose, and he doesn’t want people to know who he is, or he’d talk to me—”

“Heroes wear capes!” Harrington argued, rolling his eyes again. “Maybe it’s a little creepy when you ambush people. On the roof of the police station.”

“We gotta call him something,” Billy told him, rolling his eyes. “He can answer my questions, or he can have every investigator in three cities trying to figure out his angle. He’ll be a police file five inches thick by this weekend.”

“Oh no,” Harrington said, wide-eyed, and Billy snorted.

“The hell d’you care?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You think he’s a moron who calls himself Lazerbeamy Strongman.”

“No,” Harrington said quickly, grimacing. “No, I just, uh. It’d...it’d suck if he’s just...trying to help.”

“If he’s just trying to help, he can give me something reassuring to publish, even if it’s just that he’s calling himself ‘Mr. Neato McCheeto’. People need to hear that he’s not going to use those laser eyes to shoot planes out of the sky.”

“Fuck you, he’s helping,” Harrington said sullenly, covering a snicker.

When Billy left for lunch, he bought the guy one of the badly painted caped bobbleheads already circulating the city, and left it on his desk.

“Oh no,” he heard Harrington say in horrified tones when he found it.

The third time Billy caught the new superhero, he was flying everyone to the tops of buildings. “Oh, fuck you,” Billy groaned, his body held in strong arms while his hands investigated the texture of the cape.

“She turned the ground into actual lava,” the shithead hissed at him. “I’ll get you down when you can walk without turning into a pillar of flame.”

“You better be back within the hour, or I will step off the edge,” Billy threatened, and the shithead groaned. “What’s your cape made of?” Billy yelled after him.

“I’ll come get you,” the shithead yelled back, and Billy sat down to wait, and write some preliminary scene setting. Metropolis’ newest hero shuffles a street of pedestrians onto the roofs of buildings in under a minute, before emptying the cars. Below him, Shithead was dodging around, trying to talk to the small child waving a wand and spraying lava.

Shithead did reappear, though, within the hour. He wasn’t even panting or sweating, and Billy eyed him with extreme dislike. He took the other people down, and Billy yelled threats after him, fully expecting to get stranded again, but Shithead flew back up and floated in front of him, his arms folded like Billy was supposed to be impressed.

“I’ll answer your questions,” he muttered, glowering.

“What’s your name,” Billy asked, wasting no time, because the wind on the skyscraper was sliding through his coat like he was naked. He shivered, turtling deeper into his scarf, and Shithead reached out, his hand twitching towards Billy.

“We—I can take you somewhere else? Somewhere warmer,” he offered awkwardly.

“Somewhere there’s coffee,” Billy growled, and the shithead laughed, grinning at him, and then stepped close to lift Billy again, but didn’t do it.

He just stood so close Billy could feel him breathing, holding his arms up like a scarecrow, and Billy groaned and turned to put his arms around the neck of a goddamn superhero and got scooped up like he was a damsel in distress. He sighed, disgusted, as Shithead took them back to the Daily Planet, dropped down past the roof, and landed them on the glassed-in balcony where Billy went when it was a choice between 1) smoke or 2) commit homicide.

Billy stared. “Have you been watching me,” he hissed, and the damn hero raised his hands.

“There’s coffee here,” he said, grimacing, and Billy stalked past him, by Harrington’s desk—the slacker was missing, and Billy snorted dismissively, and then remembered not everyone had had a ride back through the freezing wind. He shivered so hard as he poured the coffee he nearly spilled it, and whispered a brief prayer to Saint Drogo, patron saint of coffee and the insane, for his intervention in saving Billy’s water of life. The first sip told him it had been sitting on the burner, and his tongue curled in his mouth, his nose wrinkling, but he could feel it warming his veins and brain.

Shithead was still waiting on the balcony, frowning out over the city, and Billy watched him, taking another sip of the acrid coffee.

“Why d’you float like that,” he asked, and the weirdo blinked at him.

“Oh, um,” he said, frowning down, and reddening. “Uh, is this...on the record?”

“...not if you say it isn’t,” Billy said, leaning back into a creaky plastic chair, and putting his feet up on another.

“This outfit is sturdy enough to not burn up, but the feet get dirty if I walk,” Shithead said, grimacing.

“Your footie pajamas get dirty if you walk outside,” Billy said flatly, sighing. “This is an amazing start. On the record now—what’s your name, hero?”

“Oh! Ummm,” he said, wincing.

“Christ,” Billy groaned, pinching his brows together.

“"I'm...very...strong...ness..." the moron trailed off, and Billy stared at him.

“Try again,” he said.

“My sidekick—”

“You have a sidekick,” Billy interrupted, holding his pen up. “Nobody’s seen a sidekick.”

“He tells me when things happen, so I can help. He doesn’t go out there,” Shithead said, looking horrified, and for once sounding reasonable.

“Ah. Carry on,” Billy said, writing sidekick?? in the margin to address later.

“He thinks I should go by Encyc—oh, no,” he slapped a fist into his hand in realization, “It was Atlas,” the unnamed hero said, and Billy narrowed his eyes.

“Fair enough,” he said, about to ask why that didn’t out-rate ‘Very Strongness’, but the shithead crossed his arms with a huff.

“It makes no sense, I’m not a book,” he said, and Billy stared at him.

“You’re exactly the moron he thought you were,” he said disbelievingly. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey! I—I just—I saved you from lava,” Shithead protested. “I saved you from a falling bus!”

“We gotta workshop this,” Billy said, groaning into his hands. “I’ll help you, because you did do all those things. And more to the point, I can’t make every news agent in the city say something that stupid every time you’re in the news.”

“What about Superguy,” the hero asked, leaning in enthusiastically. “Great...dude? Mister Awesome!”

“Fuck my life,” Billy sighed, laughing in despair. “What about something based on your powers—”

“Muscle-lasers! Musclasers?” the idiot suggested excitedly, and Billy smacked himself in the face again.

“What about just like...Knight Errant. You’ve got that kind of...shield shape on your chest—”

“Oooo,” Shithead said, floating closer, and Billy put a foot up and nudged him further away. “Because just Knight could get confusing, huh, like on the radio,” he said, and Billy wondered whether he did have a brain, and it just shorted out, like, most of the time. Maybe it was the lasers.

“D’you want to see the sunset,” Knight Errant asked, and Billy blinked at him. “You’re off work, right? I promise I won’t run, I’ll answer your questions,” he said, grimacing. “But...do you? The sunset over the city?”

As a career reporter in Metropolis, Billy could hardly refuse, and he tried to remind his libido of that while he lay cradled in strong arms, warm against Knight Errant’s chest, watching the sun set and the lights come on all over his city.

He was close enough to hear the hero’s stomach growl, and they got sandwiches from a street cart to chomp on during the interview. After that, Knight Errant flew them to a small loft apartment on the edge of the industrial district, and Billy wandered around trying the faucets, fascinated by how normal it all was.

“My apartment’s off the record, right?” Knight Errant asked, with belated nervousness.

“Yeah, sure,” Billy laughed. “I protect my sources. So. You...get hungry?” Billy asked, watching him put away enough food for four people.

“I’m just a person,” Knight Errant muttered, wiping mustard off his chin. He’d taken his cape off, and pushed the onesie down to his waist. In the dim light of the city, he looked familiar, though Billy couldn’t place him—and attractive, the shadows on his abs and arms making him look like he’d been painted in chiaroscuro.

It felt like a date, was the thing.

“Search and rescue does have my number, or a way to get ahold of me, anyway.” Knight Errant sighed. “There’s nowhere in the outfit for a phone. I mean, it’d melt, anyway, first time I flew into a burning building,” he pointed out, and Billy nodded slowly, talking to a hero about his revealing costume, and wondering whether he’d been sucked into the Twilight Zone.

“There sure isn’t anywhere to hide anything,” he agreed, remembering.

“Sometimes I don’t help them,” Knight Errant confessed. “—but I can’t—I help where I can. I have to sleep too.”

“You sleep?” Billy asked, cocking his head at the shadowy king-sized bed in the corner. He wondered whether the moron had different-patterned footie pajamas to sleep in, possibly with sheep on them. And a woolly sheep cape.

“I sleep. I have a job,” the man sighed.

“Thanks for saving me from the lava,” Billy said, belatedly. “And I...probably would’ve been crushed by that bus.”

“Anytime,” the hero of Billy’s city said, stepping close with a grin. “You have to be more careful. I’d hate to lose my favorite reporter.”

“You talk to all the others already?” Billy asked, laughing, his heart pounding as he stepped closer.

“Nah. I know it’ll always be you,” the moron said, grinning with an incomprehensible mixture of mischief and sweetness, and Billy kissed him.

The next morning, Billy hitched a ride to work in the arms of his superhero. He took the time to straighten his jacket and tie after the wind, and found Harrington at his desk, holding a mug of coffee, his eyes huge and weird in the absurdly thick glasses.

“Had a good night?” he asked, smugly, and Billy shot him a suspicious glare, and flipped him off.

Here’s the rest of my Harringrove (and everything else)

#Harringrove #Harringrove AUgust #Superhero AU #SPread the word y'all #There's a Harringrove August collection on Ao3 #Put your rad stuff in it!

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oblivious-embodied · 3 years

Text

A Miraculous Journey of Self Discovery

Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir: Rewritten, Trans AU.

A long time ago, I decided to make my own rewrite of the Miraculous Ladybug show, do it in my own way so that things could progress the way I would like, for characters to grow and develop in personality and strength. Write my own way for the miraculous to be empowered, to be a bigger deal, to mean more than what they mean in the show. And, along the way, I saw @wintertundra-art's Trans Adrien and Marinette AU, and I wanted to see if I could incorporate that into this rewrite. And, with her permission and cooperation, I was able to get the first chapter, Origins: Part One completed! I'm excited to see where this goes from here!

So, as a christmas gift to you all, Enjoy a miraculous rewrite, and trans representation! If you haven't already, go check out @wintertundra-art and her wonderful AU! And, if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask too.

I’ve decided to rate it as Teen and Up Audiences, and you can read it here on AO3! It currently sits at 12,265 words

Origins: Part One

(Summary: Eons ago, powerful artifacts were forged, infused with power that humans can only dream of, they were made to be anchors to beings of immense power. Centuries ago, two of the more powerful miraculous were lost, the Butterfly of Emotion and the Peacock of Soul. Now, the Butterfly has been awoken, and is in the hands of someone who want's to corrupt the Butterfly's power and use it for their own nefarious wants. The only way to stop this from happening is to bring balance, and only the most powerful Miraculous can do so: The Black Cat of Destruction, and the Ladybug of Creation. )

A man opens up a broach, revealing the smiling image of a blonde haired, green eyed woman. His breath hitches just a bit as he locks eyes with her image. With slightly shaking hands, he closes the broach and he looks to a floating, violet creature with big, purple eyes, and a swirl on its head that is the same shade as its eyes. Little butterfly wings extend from its back.

“Nooroo,” his tone is sharp, cold, calculating. Terrifying. “Tell me where to find the other Miraculous.”

“I-I do not know...” the being named Nooroo answers, bowing its head slightly.

The man narrows his eyes.

Several thousand years ago, possibly eons ago, powerful pieces of magical jewelry were forged, each serving as an anchor to beings of extreme power. Beings that are the embodiment of concepts that the minds of simple humans can’t even begin to comprehend, concepts like The Four Elements, The Mind, The Heart, The Soul, The Body, Energy, and even of Destruction and Creation itself.

These jewels were named ‘Miraculous’. They can’t be destroyed; whether that is due to the material they are made from, or the bonds they have with the beings, known as kwami, no one knows.

These Miraculous were created for the sole purpose of aiding the human race. And with their use, myths and legends of large, humanoid creatures, capable of unfathomable feats of strength and power arose.

And according to legend, whoever holds both of the two most powerful Miraculous, the anchors to the beings of Destruction and Creation, Death and Life, will be as powerful as a god.

And with that power, the ability to do whatever they want.

And he must have these Miraculous. He must have the power to become God.

His life, his happiness, all he’s worked for, all he’s done, the fate of his family, it all depends on him getting those Miraculous.

“Very well.” He says finally, but he turns his cold gaze to the poor being. “Tell me, Nooroo, what are the properties of your Miraculous.”

The being named Nooroo looks up at this man, its eyes weary. “That is the Miraculous of the Butterfly. It derives its power from the heart; it will allow you to sense the emotions of anyone around you in a certain radius, and through this you will be able to give others powers and abilities. These people will then become your devoted followers, your champions.” Nooroo straightens back up, puffing out its little chest.

A sickening smile creeps its way across the man’s face. “You are saying, Nooroo, that I can give supernatural powers to the ordinary; and they will, in turn, do anything I tell them to do.” It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. His mind is already circulating with different situations. At this, Nooroo deflates a bit, drooping.

“W-well, no, not really. You can give powers to someone you deem fit, but you can’t really control them. They’ll just be able to communicate with you, and vice versa, and you will be able to help them along the way.”

The smile does not leave the man’s face, “You said your powers are derived from the heart, yes?” Nooroo nods, it’s eyes widening. “I may not be able to control them directly... but I can to some degree.”

At this, Nooroo’s eyes fly open, his mouth dropping open. “Th-that’s-that’s not what the butterfly is intended-“

“I will do what I want!” The man cuts in, his tone forceful, he emphasizes his words with a stomp to the ground. “I am your master. You will do what I say, and you will not disobey me.” Nooroo’s eyes blow wide again, and it opens its mouth to say something, but nothing comes out of its mouth. It is unable to say anything. In it’s eyes, terror is clear. Dejectedly, Nooroo bows it’s head and body. “Yes, Master.”

This brings the man even more sickening joy.

“Nooroo, we will find those Miraculous.” Then man takes a step forward and lifts Nooroo’s chin up. “And we will do it by any means necessary.”

He takes a step back and fastens the broach to his shirt.

“Nooroo, dark wings, rise.”

Nooroo is sucked into the broach and violet light rushes up the man’s body, transforming his clothes. When the light dies down, the man is wearing black, skin tight, laceless dress shoes. Purple, almost skintight pants. He’s wearing a purple suit jacket and black latex-like gloves. The collar folds up at the front like a paper airplane, the broach sitting in the middle, two black, shimmering, almost rubber like lapels that start just below the paper airplane collar, form around it and go up to protrude from off the shoulders about 25 centimeters. His neck and face, save for the area around his mouth, is covered by a silver material. His eyes are violet.

“From now on...” he looks at the big metal, circular window cover, his violet eyes glistening with malice. “I will be known as Hawkmoth!”

--------

Sleeping in the brass horn of the fake record player that houses the miracle box is a small green creature, with a head much larger than the rest of his body, who looks like a miniature turtle. His body is a light-ish green, with patches of darker green. His head has some subtle scales, but is mostly smooth. Its abdomen, and the back of his arms and legs are covered in dark green scales. A turtle shell rests on his back.

Something startles Wayzz from his peaceful sleep in the fake record player’s bell, his eyes shooting open and revealing that they are completely yellow with dark green pupils. Something pulsates through the air, a powerful, corruptive wave of energy with a hint of something else behind it.

It’s... an old, familiar energy. It pulsates through the air again before dissipating slightly, then pulsating again. Like a heartbeat.

One that doesn’t bode well.

This energy... it’s from Nooroo... but... it’s tainted. It might just be from time apart, that could be why his energy feels... wrong.

Malicious. Cold.

Unwelcome...

But... it could also be something else... something far more terrible than someone accidentally picking up and activating It’s Miraculous.

It’s an energy that accompanies An unwelcome wielder. It’s Nooroo’s distress call.

Wayzz bursts from the fake record player’s bell and into Master Fu’s side, jolting him, stilling his fingers on his patient’s back.

The little old man, wearing a red Hawaiian t-shirt, grey slacks and brown sandals, turns to the little green kwami.

“What is it?” He whispers, his fingers returning to work at the young man’s back.

“Master! I felt an odd energy.”

Master Fu pauses in his work again, furrowing his brows in thought. After another second’s deliberation, he tells Wayzz to hide, then quickly ushers his patient out the door, promising to see him next week.

With the door closed, he turns back to his kwami. “What kind of energy?” His tone is solemn and wary.

“Master, it was Noroo’s. It was Nooroo’s distress call. It’s in trouble!”

The old master’s eyes widen in shock, his mouth hanging open for a second before he sets it into a hard line. “Very well then, Wayzz. We must find him at once!”

Wayzz winces for a split second, human’s have never understood how one can be referred to by pronouns other than he/him, or she/her, and the Master doesn’t seem to catch on to Wayzz calling Nooroo by It’s preferred pronouns. But Wayzz refuses to not use It’s preferred pronouns. He would never do that to his friend.

The old master stands up straight, holding up his right wrist, his other hand bracing it. “Time to transform... Wayzz-“

‘Crack!’

“Augh, oh...” Master Fu groans as he falls to the ground, muted groans escaping his throat.

“Master, please be reasonable! You are-“

“Still young!” Fu cuts in, “ I’m only 186!...” he grunts as he stands back up. “but I can no longer do this alone... we will need help.”

He walks over to the fake record player, and Wayzz looks away as Master Fu puts in the code to open up the record player.

Within seconds, the middle slides open, and a black box with red, ornate, ancient Chinese characters on it is lifted from the cavity in the record player.

Before he opens the box, he looks to Wayzz; the kwami has been with him for most of his life... they’ve been through a lot together. So, Wayzz is certain that they surely think the same thing.

Allowing those Miraculous to be out in the open, even if it is just to recover Nooroo from its captor, it’s incredibly risky. But... Wayzz has a certain feeling about this, it may be a risky move, but it feels like the right one. If they are to recover Nooroo, and if It’s had Its powers abused by a corrupted heart, they will need to cleanse and balance it’s Miraculous; and only those of Creation and Destruction can do so. As Fu takes out those two Miraculous, Wayzz nods his agreement. Hopefully... hopefully this doesn’t go wrong.

-----------

For the next few days, Fu looks for two people who fit the parameters for these two Miraculous. They need to be kind, and selfless... those two traits aren’t too hard to find. But for the Miraculous of Creation, he needs to find someone who has the mind to handle the complexity, the heart to consider the options, the soul to value everyone, the body to meet the physical requirements and the energy to withstand it all.

They need to be of the right age too, for if they are too young, their mind could snap, their heart could burst, their soul could be irreparably damaged, their body could shrivel… just like his did when he was a boy.

Finding someone who meets all these requirements is grueling, but it’s the only way to make sure they don’t face life long detriments.

Fu finds himself in a bakery, looking over everyone he can see as he simultaneously looks for what pastry to get for himself. The people he finds don’t fit what this Miraculous needs, and he gets no reaction from the box containing the being who embodies Creation itself. He is about to give up on his search for a suitable wielder for Tikki when a feeling of warmth pulsates through his body, emanating from the box Tikki’s Miraculous resides in.

He looks up, and is greeted with the sight of the baker’s daughter, a young girl with black hair, Asian features, and beautiful grey eyes. She talks animatedly with the customers, smiling so brightly and with such warmth in her eyes, she makes it seem like she makes friends with everyone she meets.

But she’s too young, she doesn’t look to be more that 14 years old, he will not put the stress of being the wielder of Creation on a child. His body was crippled when he wore his Miraculous when he was too young, and his Miraculous is substantially less powerful than Creation. He will not the the reason for the death of a child.

He moves on.

But Tikki is insistent, if the way the box burns in his pocket is any indication.

Reluctantly, he turns to his kwami companion, Wayzz, and nods to him, making a mental note to have Wayzz watch this girl. He can only hope that he finds someone better suited for Creation.

When out of the bakery, Wayzz whispers in his ear, “Are you sure giving a Miraculous — especially one of such magnitude — to a child is a good idea?”

Fu pulls out and bites into a pastry, his facial features dark. “I do not know, my friend. I refuse to give a Miraculous to someone so young, especially one that is so powerful. However, Tikki is insisting on this girl. I hope to find someone who is suited for Tikki, and is older, but we must be prepared for the event that we have to give this girl this responsibility.”

Wayzz sighs, “Alright, Master.”

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

The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery — those pastries are to die for! — but he’s in a sour mood. He hasn’t been able to get Tikki to react to any other person, she is insistent on this bakery girl. He’s keeping an eye out for someone else, but he’s starting to believe he has no other choice.

Just as he rounds the corner, the box that houses the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction sends a chilling wave of energy through Fu’s body, and he stops in his tracks. Plagg has sensed someone he wants to choose. Fu starts looking around, going through all the parameters the wielder of Destruction needs to have: They need to have a mind strong enough to resist temptation, a heart kind enough to give mercy to those around them, a soul to see the good and bad, a body to withstand the effects the Miraculous of Destruction has on wielders, and the ability to rein in Plagg’s energy.

Everyone he looks at is wrong, and they incite no reaction from Plagg, but then he sees a young man with blond hair, green eyes, and fair skin in the park. He’s sitting on a bench, looking crestfallen. To his right, cameras and photographers are setting up around him. There are other children playing at the park, and the young man is staring at them with a longing gaze.

The hope in Fu’s eyes dies down as he realizes that Plagg’s chosen is one that is, once again, too young,

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to put them through this, but if Tikki won’t change her mind, Plagg most definitely wont.

Resigned, Fu turns around and starts going to the bakery, making a note to look into this boy. He looks up and finds himself looking at a poster advertisement for Agreste Fashion, and the boy he was just looking at is on it.

It seems finding information on this boy will not be as hard as he thought.

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

As he continues to watch the bakery girl, he sees just how kind and selfless she is. She routinely offers help in the bakery as often as she can. She lights up talking to customers about fashion — apparently, she’s quite fond of fashion, especially the Agreste brand, how fascinating — how she lifts full bags of flour with only a few grunts and wobbles here and there. Fu’s found that she created the design for the bakery sign. As well as the menu board. She is truly creative. And, if his hearing does not fail him, she even bakes some of the pastries from time to time.

Tikki grows more and more insistent on choosing this girl, and Fu has resigned himself to the fact that he will be putting them through things he never wished to put anyone through again. If he is going to give her the Miraculous of Creation, he must be there to mentor her. He must be able to guide her through all of this. Hopefully she can handle this and he isn’t sending her to her death.

Now... the young man, the child model... he wasn’t quite sure at first, and he was getting ready to have a long argument with Plagg. He just seemed to be a boy longing for the time to play with others. But, as he continued to pursue knowledge about this boy -- his name being Adrien -- he’s found that he is praised for his kindness, and he’s seen that in video recordings of interviews with the boy. Wayzz has told him that when he has photoshoots at the park, when he sees kids fall down, he twitches almost imperceptibly. As though he wants to go over and pick them up. And when he watches parents with their difficult kids, he seems to want nothing more than to help.

Fu has seen the way he smiles at his bodyguard, at his scheduler, the photographers, the other models, it seems to be completely genuine.

He harbors a heart that wants to do good, that wants to do nothing but help, his soul longs for the freedom to be selfless, but it is unable to. And Plagg has latched onto this boy.

He must be able to guide these two young people. He must not allow them to go through this alone.

Late at night in his apartment, Fu sits before two small pieces of paper on his kitchen table, writing two identical notes to put in the boxes containing the Black Cat Miraculous and the Ladybug Miraculous.

They are to meet him at the base of the Effiel Tower at 22:00, but in order for this to work, he must give them the miraculous at the same time, which means he must execute his challenges before it is too late.

Suddenly, Wayzz flies up to his face and bows before speaking. “Master! I just sensed Nooroo transform Its captor! It was powerful, whoever has Nooroo is powerful.”

Fu stops writing and strokes his goatee. If he remembers correctly, the first day of the French school year is in three, almost two days. This means that he doesn’t have much time to issue his challenges to these kids, and even less time to train them. He must act now. “Thank you, Wayzz, we must act soon, before it is too late!”

Fu finishes writing the notes and places them on top of the boxes containing the Miraculous of Destruction and Creation, before he goes to bed.

The next day, Fu makes his way to the bakery. He doesn’t know how to issue his challenge, but it will come to mind eventually. It is the day before the first day of school, and there will be no lack of heightened emotions, and paired with the power that Nooroo has over emotions, who knows when Nooroo’s captor will strike?

Suddenly, Adrien bursts through the bushes, sprinting his way to the school. He has a pleased smile on his face, and hope in his eyes. He reaches the school, and stops, looking up at it, sighing in admiration.

A car passes by, Adrien whips around, looking at the car, but finds that it is not something he needs to worry about. He relaxes and starts to open the door to the school when three kids burst from the nearby park and speed their way on bikes across the street toward a nearby intersection. He looks at these kids, furrowing his brows.

Then, a rumbling sounds, Adrien whips around to look, and there is a car coming down their way. And, by the looks of things, the car isn’t slowing down, and neither are the kids.

Fu waits in silence as Adrien seems more confused than ever, looking between the car and the kids, taking a few steps from the school toward the intersection. When it is evident that neither the kids nor the car will stop on their own, he takes action, rushing forward and waving his arms.

Two of the kids look at him, then at the car coming down the road, and as though it is their first time seeing it, they skid to a stop. But the kid in the middle, a girl with pink hair keeps going, her head turned toward the two kids who stopped, hair whipping around under her helmet. She seems to glare at them and then at the oncoming car.

Adrien seems to sigh, looking frantically between the rapidly approaching kid and car.

He looks back to the pink haired girl, and sets his jaw. Clearly set on a course of action. He takes a few long steps toward the street just as she comes by and grabs her arm, forcing her to fall from her bike, but the bike continues onward into the street.

Where it promptly gets crushed by the car, while the driver looks up from their phone and honks as they drive away.

As the pink haired girl sits there shocked, Adrien stands there awkwardly. But, after a second, the girl stands up and punches Adrien’s arm before seemingly telling him off. All Adrien does is furrow his brows, confused.

Fu walks away with a small smile.

He has a feeling this might actually work out well.

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

An alarm jerks Marinette awake from her dreamless sleep. With a groan, she blindly gropes around her bed to find her phone, but when she finds it, she only manages to push it from her bed down onto the floor.

The alarm doesn’t stop, and Marinette can’t decide if she should be relieved, or annoyed.

With a resigned sigh, she slips from her bed, mourning the lost warmth of her covers, and climbs down her ladder. She picks up her phone and inspects it for cracks.

Somehow, for some reason, it doesn’t have any. Thank the beings that rule the universe, her phone is indestructible! She doesn’t know how many times she’s dropped her phone, but it doesn’t even have a scratch!

Sluggishly, she goes to her closet, trying to decide on what to wear, looking over everything and battling that feeling of unease she feels every time she looks in her closest; but ultimately decides to put it aside, she’ll just eat breakfast in her pajamas.

She doesn’t even want to look at her messy, black hair, her body, the bags that are surely to be under her eyes. She’s always loved her eyes, her Maman is from China and has grey eyes, while her Papa grew up locally in Paris with blue eyes; but her eyes are amazing, they’re grey with a ring of blue around the pupil. She can’t help but think of her parents when she looks into her eyes. She doesn’t have as much Asian features as she would like, but she has her eyes, her black hair, and a slight Asian facial bone structure.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes she starts going downstairs, not really wanting to face the day. Not wanting to fight to feel good.

It’s the first day of school. The first day of Collége. And, for some reason, Marinette has a strong feeling that Chloé Bourgeois is in her class again.

One would think that the spoiled brat that is the daughter of the Mayor would be in private school. But, for some reason unknown to all but the two Bourgeois and the beings that rule the universe, she still attends public school; despite all of her complaining. And the bullying.

She really, really does not want school to start.

With a big yawn, she opens the trap door.

“Marinette! School starts soon! You don’t want to be late for your first day back at school!”

Wincing from the early morning yelling, Marinette suppresses another yawn, calling out a small “Coming...” before climbing down the stairs.

When she reaches the bottom, she finds her Maman smiling at her from the kitchen. She smiles back, already feeling the grasp of sleep start to slip away. “There’s my beautiful girl!”

Despite the warmth that fills her being when around her Maman, Marinette can’t help but feel uneasy with being called beautiful. It’s probably because of Chloe bullying her, she’ll get over it.

She gives her maman a kiss on the cheek, leaning down just a bit. When she was younger, she wondered why she was taller than her maman. But, after an awkward talk with her parents, she’s realized that she just inherited the taller genes from her Papa, but got the skinnier genes from her Maman.

“Good morning!”

“Yeah...” she grumps, “I’ll bet you anything that Chloé is in my class again...” she sighs as she sits down at the kitchen table, where her Maman has already set out a cereal bowl, a milk jug, spoon, her favorite cereal, and a bowl of fruit. Uncapping the milk jug, she pours it into the bowl.

“Four years in a row?! Is that possible?” Her Maman exclaims, putting something in the sink behind her.

“Definitely... Lucky me!” Marinette rolls her eyes, pouring in some chocolate cereal flakes.

“Oh! Don’t say that! It’s the start of a new year, I’m sure everything will be just fine!” Her Maman says resolutely, brushing a hand against her hair. And who can argue with such sound logic? Not Marinette.

Nodding, feeling her spirits rise just a bit, she places the tub of cereal flakes down. But, with just a slight miscalculation of how hard to set it down, a chain reaction of terrible, ill boding events happens.

The vibrations send an orange rolling down a conveniently placed bread stick, right to and over another conveniently placed knife. Which then sends the orange into the milk jug, the knife into a bowl of sugar cubes; sending a few flying with such velocity that as it collides with the cereal tub, it tips it over. And, as her spirits plummet, the orange completes its journey by knocking into and tipping over a yogurt cup. She groans dejectedly, closing her eyes so as to block the situation from sight and in turn, her mind.

For a girl whose parents have always called their “lucky charm”, she sure isn’t all that lucky.

As she cleans up the cereal tub mess, her Maman reaches a hand to her cheek, chuckling. Which, somehow, helps to lift her own spirits.

It’s weird how mothers can do that. “Go get dressed, honey, you’ll look beautiful. I’ve got this.”

An hour later, Marinette is down in the bakery, dressed in her back-to-school-day clothes: tan/pink flats, pink Capris, white shirt with a flower pattern on her left collarbone, grey blazer and her very own, hand sewn, pink clutch. And yet, despite being proud of her work, she can’t find it in her to be proud of how she looks.

Her Papa, humming a tune, presents a box of macarons to his daughter. A warm, gentle smile on his face: “There’s my gorgeous daughter!” There’s that uneasiness again...

“Papa! These are so awesome!” She exclaims, bouncing in place. “Thank you, Papa! My class will love them!” She looks up to him, adoration and love filling her eyes.

“Glad you like them!” He ruffles her hair, chuckling as she smirks a bit under his huge hands, an almost mute “don’t mess up my hair!” coming from her.

“You look beautiful, my darling daughter” Her papa says with small tears in his eyes.

“You’re the best!” she says, giving him a one armed hug, her smile falling as she tries to figure out how to get rid of the uneasy feeling in her gut.

“We,” he pulls her close again with an arm, and angles his other in a ‘muscular, show-off’ manner, “are the best.” Marinette can’t help but giggle.

Giving both her parents goodbye kisses, she rushes out the door, intent on not being late for school on the first day. And, in her haste, almost rushes right into the path of an oncoming car.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she isn’t splattered on the windshield of a car, she slouches a bit, before jolting ramrod straight as she sees an elderly man with a cane in a red hawiian shirt having trouble crossing the road, another car rushing toward the man, not slowing down at all.

Marinette frantically looks back and forth between the two and decides, after a second, to rush out and save this man from meeting the very same fate she had just narrowly avoided moments before.

Just as she pulls him to the sidewalk, her legendary clumsiness takes hold of her once more, and she trips onto the sidewalk, taking the man down with her; the box of macarons spilling. And, with horror, she watches as inconsiderate city people step on them, reducing them to nothing more than crumbs. The man’s “Thank you, miss” goes unheard.

But, his “Oh, what a disaster” does not go unnoticed. Picking up what remains of the box and the macaroons, she tells him: “Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters.” She holds the box to him. “Besides! There’s still a few left.”

She smiles at this man, as he picks a macaron from the box and bites into it. Letting out a pleased “Delicious!”

A bell across the street rings, signaling the start of school. Marinette looks to the school, to this man, back to the school and back to him again. While she’d rather not be late to school... well, she had just pulled this man from the street. The least she can do is walk him partially to where he is headed.

“Go ahead.” The man says, his smile genuine, understanding and proud. ”You’ve saved my life, the least I can do is save you from getting into trouble! Now go!” He waves her off.

She takes a moment of further deliberation before nodding, bowing, and rushing out “have-a-nice-day-sir!” Then she’s off, rushing to school.

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

As the young woman runs to the school, Master Fu straightens up, putting his cane behind his back and holding up the box containing the Ladybug Miraculous. The box warms up and spreads warmth all throughout his body, confirming that this young woman is Tikki’s choice to be her wielder.

While he doesn’t want to put this stress on a child, he knows that there is no other solution, no way around this. He just has to be her mentor.

He walks to the bakery, allowing Wayzz to take the box to the girl’s room while he buys pastries for himself and his companion.

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

Just as the custodian is closing the school’s front doors, Marinette slips in, not breaking from her near sprint. Rushing up the stairs, she bursts into the classroom, stumbling to not lose her balance. She’s hunched over, trying to catch her breath.

“Nino,” the teacher calls out. She’s a tall woman with fire red hair, teal eyes, and a white pantsuit. Marinette doesn’t recognize her. The boy in question, Nino, has been in her classes for as long as she can remember. He’s a kind hearted, introverted kid with dark skin. He’s always wearing a red baseball cap and grey and orange headphones.

She looks up and sees that Nino is sitting with his eyes wide behind his glasses from the back of the classroom. “Why don’t you sit in the front this year?” The teacher may have formed it as a question, but it was more of a polite command.

Nino grumbles and stands up, his back and shoulders slouched. As he walks to the front of the classroom, on the side closest to the door, he groans. Before sliding into his position in the front of the classroom, right by the door. He pulls his headphones down and rests his elbows on the desk; his jaw resting on his knuckles with an annoyed look on his face.

Though she’s been in the same class as Nino for years, she doesn’t know much about him, and she’s really regretting that now. Maybe this year will be different?

She takes a moment to deliberate, but ultimately decides to sit on the row behind Nino, in her usual seat. She wants to sit by him but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to anyone.

Shaking her head, still breathing with slight difficulty, she walks to her usual seat, the second row, left side of the classroom, right next to the aisle. Just behind and over Nino’s right shoulder.

Mylène, a timid girl, sits directly across the aisle from where Marinette’s seat is. She’s a shorter girl, with fair skin and long dreadlocks that are blonde at the roots but fade into multiple colors at the ends.

Sitting on the next row up, just to the right of Mylène, is a dark skinned boy with a close cut afro hairstyle brown hair, a green polo and glasses. Max is your go-to kid for anything and everything that has to do with electronics.

Sitting right next to Max is a tan skinned boy, Kim; he’s wearing a red, short sleeved hoodie, and sweat bands on his wrist. His black hair is up in a faux hawk style and he’s lounging back in his chair. He’s the class jock. (He tries to hide it by being a jerk and a goof, but he’s actually a good guy.)

Kim is always next to Max, tells everyone that they’re best friends, and that he needs Max to help with homework, but Marinette knows better. She can see his eyes.

On the back row, sitting behind Max, is a girl named Rose. She’s a quiet girl, with her blonde hair in a pixie cut. She wears all pink and has an incredibly high voice.

Just as Marinette sits down and starts to unpack, a pale hand, with yellow, perfectly manicured nails slams down on the desk before her, startling her. “Marinette,” the almost shill voice starts, “Du-pain-Cheng” it sneers her last name like it's an insult to it personally. (Which, if this is who she think it is, it most likely is an insult to her personally.)

Chloé Bourgeois. The bratty daughter of the mayor. She’s wearing a yellow jacket, white pants, and a large, gold (not actually gold, it’d be too heavy for her skinny, fragile hips to support) plated belt. No wrinkles in sight on her clothes. Her golden locks are pulled into a high hanging ponytail. Blush, eye liner, magenta eyeshadow and pink lipstick on her face. It only serves to make her look that much more bratty.

Her school bully.

Marinette slouches, she knew it would happen. A weary, dejected, “Here we go again...” leaves her lips.

“That’s my seat.” Chloé brings her hand from the desk to her chest.

“But Chloé, this has always been my seat.” Marinette looks up to Chloé, grey-blue meeting dark, cruel blue.

Chloe’s face scrunches up. “Not this year!”

A sudden, but not unfamiliar voice cuts in. “New School, New Year, New seats.” Sabrina, Chloé’s lap dog slides into the desk beside Marinette, her orange/red hair in stark contrast with her teal-green eyes sparkling behind her glasses, and pale skin. She’s wearing a, quite frankly, ugly sweater vest.

“So,” Chloé sneers again, “why don’t you just go and sit beside that new girl over there.” She turns to point at a girl she hadn’t seen walk into the room.

She has darker skin like Nino, with long, curly, red-orange locks. She’s wearing a red-orange flannel short-sleeved shirt. At the mention of “New girl” she turns from her phone and her brown eyes glare behind glasses at Chloé.

“But..” is all Marinette can think of in response. (She’s tired, and already feeling exhausted, she doesn’t want to move or think.)

Chloé turns back to Marinette, her hands on her hips, her face contorted in anger. “Listen, Adrien is arriving today, and since that’s,” she points to the seat beside Nino, “ going to be he— his seat, this is going to be my seat.” Chloé slams her hand down in front of Marinette again, then she turns toward her fully, slamming her other hand on the desk. “Get it?”

Adrien... who is this Adrien? And why is he friends with Chloé?

“Uh, who’s Adrien?” She asks Chloé.

Two simultaneous gasps leave Chloé’s and Sabrina’s mouths. Then they burst out laughing in that ridiculous, annoying laugh, drawing Myléne’s attention.

The laughing stops abruptly and Chloé speaks again. “Can you believe she doesn’t know who Adrien is?” She directs this at Sabrina. Then, to Marinette, Chloé scrunches her face in disgust and anger. “What rock have you been living under?”

“He’s only a famous model!” Sabrina chimes in.

“And I am his best friend.” Chloé begins again.

Marinette raises her eyebrows at this. None of that helps clarify who Adrien is. And, if he’s a famous model, why would any sane teacher let a man who is probably in his early/mid 20’s come to class with 14-15 year olds?! Why is a man who is in his mid 20’s still in middle school?!

“He adores me.” Chloé looks to Marinette, and scoffs when she sees that Marinette has not moved from her seat. “Uh, go on, move!” She emphasizes this with a thumb pointing toward the proposed seats.

And all Marinette can think of is, is this Choe’s new scheme to get attention? Who would believe that a 20 something year old is hanging out with a 14 year old? They’d be all over the news.

Suddenly, the new girl is behind Chloé, her voice strong and brave. A fatal mistake when talking to Chloé Bourgeois. “Back off, Brat.”

Chloé turns to the girl, anger and annoyance taking the wheel. She leans toward the new girl, making sure her tone is mocking and sarcastic. “Ooh, look, Sabrina, we got a little do-gooder in our classroom!” Chloé leans in further. “What’re you going to do, Super Newbie, shoot beams at me with your glasses.”

Marinette cringes, this is why it is best to stay docile around Chloé, if she senses any opposition at all, she’ll only cause a scene.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The new girl sneers, her voice dark and dangerous. She pushes Chloé to the side and reaches for Marinette’s arm. “C’mon” she says as she grabs Marinette’s arm. Marinette barely has any time to grab her box of macarons and her bag before she’s being dragged from her seat.

In her haste to steady herself, grab her stuff, and the new girl’s quick pace, Marinette misses a step on the way to her new seat and ends up falling; her box of macarons falling to the floor, where several are flung from the box and are crushed on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She mumbles as she cleans up and slides into her new seat for the year. Chloé’s and Sabrina’s laughing etching its way into her memory.

“Chill-ax, girl, no biggie!” The new girl says, eyeing Marinette as she’s hunched over her almost empty box of macaroons.

“Alright, has everyone found a seat?” The teacher asks the class as other kids file in, leaning her hands on the desk. The class speaking up behind them drowning out her voice.

Marinette straightens up and looks to the new girl, “But I so wish I could handle Chloé the way you do.” The new girl raises an eyebrow, a corner of her lips quirking up. Not threatening, or suspicious, but curious and slightly confused. She reaches for her phone and unlocks it.

“You mean the way Majestia does it.” The new girl pulls up an image of a woman in a skin tight, blue suit, her shoulders, hands and face uncovered. She wears a fire truck red, sleeveless jacket with a ruffled coat tail, two thick, golden, zigzagging lines run across the bust, stars above the lines. Boots of the same shade reach to about her mid calf, the tops lined with the same type of lines as the jacket. “She says: All that is necessary for the triumph of Evil, is for Good to do nothing.” The new girl says proudly.

She leans past Marinette, wrapping her left arm around her shoulders and pointing to Chloé with her right hand. “And that girl over there, is evil, and we,” she points to herself and Marinette, “are the good people. She has a smirk on her lips. “We can’t let her get away with it!”

“That’s easier said than done...” Marinette hunches her shoulders a bit, her voice dejected. “She likes to make my life miserable.”

“That’s easy to fix, girl, you just need more confidence!” The new girl says, conviction strong in her voice.

Marinette smiles, and takes the last remaining macaron and breaks it in half, extending the other out to the new girl.

“Marinette.” she says.

“Alya,” the new girl says in response, taking the half macaron.

With this, they turn to the front, pleased smiles on their faces.

Maybe... maybe this year isn’t going to be so bad?

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

“For those of you who don’t yet know me,” the teacher says, drawing all attention her way, “I’m Ms. Bustier.”

As class starts, Chloé leans on her new desk, sadness in her face and eyes. Looking at the empty seat before her. “Ugh, he should have been here by now.” she says under her breath.

She meant to have annoyance in her tone, and she does, but she can’t hide the underlying disappointment.

Where is s— he?

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

Master Fu watches as Adrien rushes through the street, pressing against the bushes and trees, looking over his shoulder frequently, searching for something or someone.

Fu smiles, it seems like this young man has decided to try to get some freedom. But, if the frantic look in his eyes means anything, it’ll most likely be short lived.

The young man reaches the school grounds, and pauses next to a cologne ad poster that, coincidentally, has him on it. He looks over his shoulder again, and a smile finds his way into his face. He’s beaten the system, it would seem. For the time being.

This is Fu’s chance to issue his Challenge, to see if he has the ability to wield the Miraculous of Destruction. He has the potential, when faced with no other option, but this will test whether he will choose to help others and not himself. To do what he feels is right, and forfeit what he wants.

Just as Adrien reaches the steps, Fu launches his plan, clutching his back and falling to the ground, dropping his cane just out of his reach. Crying out in pain.

This causes the boy pause, and he stands on the steps of the school, frozen in place. Trying to figure out what to do, looking between Fu and the school’s front door.

Not a second later, he rushes to Fu, bringing his cane to his hands and helping him stand.

“Thank you, young man!” He says, patting his arm. Adrien’s eyes cringe and he tenses before his entire face lights up.

Huh, interesting...

“Do you need help getting to where you’re going?” He asks, his green eyes hopeful. No doubt wanting to help out more. If only so he could get further away from whoever he’s running from.

“No, I will be fine, but thank you for your kindness! Now, shoo, go to school!”

Adrien nods, the mention of school making his face light up even more.

He turns and rushes to the steps, and, just before he reaches the door, a silver sedan screeches to a stop, a tall woman clad in a purple suit and red blouse, her black hair fading to red on the left side. “Adrien, please reconsider! You know what your father wants!”

She walks slowly toward Adrien, as a large man steps out from the driver's seat, walking toward him with her. Adrien turns slowly toward them, his feet frozen in place, fear in his eyes. But only for a brief moment.

“But this is what I want!” He says, the fear taking a back seat to hurt and anger. “I’m sick of being stuck at home. I want to be like a normal kid!”

The woman shakes her head. “Adrien, you are not a normal kid, your father can’t afford to have you at public school!”

Adrien scoffs, “We both know he has more than enough money to afford it.”

“That’s not what I mean, Adrien. You know he only does this to keep you safe. He’s doing this for you.”

At this, Adrien’s eyes soften, his posture drooping. “I know... I just... I want to be around others. Please don’t tell Father about this.”

The woman’s eyes soften as she puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you just can’t. Come, let’s go home.”

As Adrien is led to the sedan, and is driven off back home, the second box pulsates in Fu’s pocket.

This boy has the traits that are required for the use of this Miraculous, but he does not have the right life for it. Fu is unsure whether Adrien can handle it. Plagg seems set on this boy, however. And, if Adrien is going to learn and grow, there is only one other Miraculous that will do just as good a job, and he’s already found a match for Creation.

He’ll just have to watch out for Plagg. With that, Fu swings his cane onto his shoulder and walks away whistling, following the sedan.

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

“Those of you who have P.E., Mr. D’Argencourt is expecting you at the stadium.” Ms. Bustier calls to the class as the bell rings and everyone packs up.

As the kid named Ivan, A large, fair skinned boy, with short brown hair save for the small tuft of blond in the front, gets up Kim gives him a note.

“The rest of you can head over to the library.”

A moment later, Ivan bursts out with an angry cry of “Kim!” He lurches toward Kim, an impish smirk on the lankier boy’s face. Ivan is cranking his fist back to slam it into Kim’s fragile face.

“Ivan! What are you doing?!” Ms. Bustier exclaims, leaning over her desk in shock. Ivan looks to her in confusion, lowering his fist.

“It’s Kim!” Ivan looks back at Kim, raising his fist again, and, for the first time, Kim is shocked and scared. “I’m so gonna—“

“Ivan! Go to the principal’s office!” Ms. Bustier cuts in, pointing out the door.

At that, Ivan steps away from Kim, growling as he looks back down at the note Kim passed him. With anger rolling off him, Ivan crumples the note in his hand and storms out of the classroom, muttering to himself; leaving Kim to shake in his seat, and Ms. Bustier to wonder if she could have worked the situation out better.

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

The man known as Hawkmoth stands in a large room, a metal, circular window cover sliding open, letting light pour into the room, sending pure white butterflies fluttering about.

“Such powerful emotions. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. And in a school no less, a perfect catalyst to test my limits.” He reaches for a butterfly, and clasps his hands around it. A second later, dark, purple energy seeps into the butterfly, and when he releases the butterfly, it is black with purple cracking apart the black, a violet mask-like pattern on it’s head and back, its legs a dark purple. “Burn a hole into his heart, little akuma, transform his anger into something more!”

The transformed butterfly, now an akuma, flies through the air, tracking down the boy with such anger and frustration with supernatural speed.

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

Ivan opens the door to the principal’s office, but before he can take a step inside, the principal stops him.

“Excuse me, young man! Hasn’t anyone taught you to knock?” The principle, a large, overweight, white man with a receding hairline and greying hair exclaims. This shocks Ivan, his anger and frustration building. “Go on, go again.” He says, leaning back in his decked out, rolling swivel chair.

With a shake of his head and a growl, Ivan closes the door and turns around, raising a fist to knock.

Before he can put his fist to the wood, something stops him. A sound. The sound of something wet twisting and crawling. And suddenly, in his mind, there is a man floating in a grey space, his voice echoing all around his head. The principal’s “Go on, knock!” is ignored.

The man before Ivan is wearing a dark purple suit, and it shines in a way cloth doesn’t, kind of like rubber. On his chest are two black wing like lapels, which just make whoever this guy is look weird. Covering his head is a grey mask, only his eyes, which are an unsettling violet, and mouth looking normal. He’s leaning on a cane.

“Stoneheart.” the man says Ivan’s confusion at the name going unacknowledged. “I am Hawkmoth, I am giving you the strength and unstoppable power to seek revenge on those who have wronged you. To prove to them that you do have what it takes. All I need you to do is cause mayhem. Destroy all that you can.”

The power to get back at Kim? To prove that he does have what it takes?

And all he needs to do is cause mayhem?

Who can deny such a thing?

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Ivan says, a dark look on his face.

The man smirks.

Black and purple bubbles ripple over Ivan’s body, morphing his skin and bones.

When the bubbles disperse, Ivan is no more. Only Stoneheart remains. Standing at 2 meters tall, with cracked stone for skin and yellow eyes. He’s built like an athlete, and literally chiseled. Wrapped around his right hand is a purple fabric, like that a boxer would wear under their boxing glove. On his chest, the stone is jagged and protruding, right where his heart would be, like his heart had exploded. The cracks in the stone glow a faint yellow.

“Well?” The principal asks, waiting for a response.

Suddenly, the door is flung from its hinges, the principal only has enough time to move enough so that the door doesn’t slam into his head, but it still collides with his shoulder, sending him to the ground.

With an almighty roar, Stoneheart launches through the window, leaving an echo of “KIM!” behind as the entire wall crumbles to the street below.

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

In the library, a thunderous roar rattles the walls, then the whole building shakes, causing students to tumble to the ground.

After a few seconds, Alya, Marinette’s new friend, grabs her from the ground and drags her to the TVs in the library, which are showing the security footage.

A large, probably 2 meters tall, stone golem is walking down the street, the cracks in it’s stone skin glowing bright yellow. It roars in a voice so raspy and stiff, she wonders if it has vocal chords, and if so, how they’re working.

“Wh-what’s going on? I thought it was an earthquake!” a random kid exclaims.

Alya turns to Marinette, her hands on her cheeks. “It’s a real life super villain!” Suddenly, Alya’s eyes glint and she pulls out her phone. “Battery, 80%, check! GPS, check! I am so outta here!” Then she’s off, leaving Marinette to marvel at her.

“Wait! Hey, where’re you going?”

Alya pauses only briefly before turning around and hopping backwards “Where there’s a super villain, there is always a superhero!” Then she’s through the doors.

This is such a weird day...

Marinette looks back to the tv and jumps as the rock monster collides a car, the car crumbling and shattering. The yellow in the cracks of it’s skin glows brighter and- and she could have sworn it grew! It picks up what remains of the car with ease, and throws it at the school camera, and it goes to static. The building shakes again as crumbling brick and groaning metal reverberates through the school.

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

Fu stops just outside the gates of a mansion. His eyes glinting with wonder and awe.

This should provide good living conditions for a being with such a high cost diet.

He hums in delight, letting Wayzz take the pulsating box up into the mansion.

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

Adrienne *hates* homeschooling. She’s alone, save for Nathalie, and has to stay in one place for at least 7 hours, sometimes more, depending on the lesson. And, most of the time, she’s in the dining hall, the cold, undecorated dining hall. She’s stuck hearing her father, Nathalie, the mansion staff, call her ”Adrien”. Call her a boy. She can’t talk to anyone, can’t have a break. It’s useless.

“Who was the 1st president of the 5th French republic?” Nathalie walks up and down the length of the dining table. A tablet and pen in hand.

And all Adrienne can do is lean against her hand, not even able to summon more than a bored, monotone voice. “Everyone thinks it was De Gaulle but it was actually René Coty before the first elections.”

“Excellent, Adrien!” Nathalie exclaims. Turning around, a… pleased look on her face? ‘When did that happen?!’ Adrienne can’t help but think in shock. She opens her mouth to say something but a cold voice cuts through the room.

“Give me a minute would you, Nathalie?” Adrienne immediately tenses. It’s an involuntary reaction she has no control over. Not anymore.

Her Father turns to look at Adrienne, his eyes cold, disappointed, disproving. Angry. But his face remains stoic. “You are not going to school. I have already told you.”

Adrienne’s heart sinks. She looks to Nathalie, her eyes burning. She betrayed her. She- she does know what happens when she disobeys her Father, right?

Nathalie only lowers her head in shame.

Adrienne looks back to her father. “But, Father-“

“Everything you need is right here, where I can keep an eye on you.” He cuts in, tone dark and dangerous. “I will not have you outside in that dangerous world.”

“It’s not dangerous!” Adrienne tries, standing up from her seat, hands on the table. “I’m always stuck here by myself! Why can’t I go out and make friends just like everybody else?” She asks, pointing out the grand window to her left.

“Because you are not everybody else! You are My son” Adrienne flinches, her body flinching as her gut falls. She hates it when he sounds like that, it makes her feel so small. She has to bite her tongue to keep herself from shaking at her father’s deep, angry voice. He’s using the tone that suggests that he will not allow for any more words to be said.

Adrienne stands up straight, bowing her head, holding back tears that threaten to form.

Always her... it’s always Adrienne who makes things difficult. Who makes Father angry. All Adrienne does is antagonize him.

With that, Gabriel leaves, and Nathalie steps forward. “We can leave it there if you wan-“

Before she even finishes, Adrienne takes off running, hiding her— his face. Hiding his reddening eyes.

As he runs to his room, he catches a brief glimpse of a painting of him, his father and his mother.

But he can’t look at it for so long. It brings back too many bad memories.

Once in his room, he lays down on his bed, Letting his pillow soak in all the tears leaking from his— her eyes. From her eyes.

Why is Father like this? The thought bounces around in Adrienne’s head, it makes her dizzy. Why am I like this, if I’m really- if I’m really a girl, I wouldn’t revert to using those pronouns, to using “Adrien” when I’m stressed, would I? I wouldn’t do that when I anger Father, would I? How the hell am I a girl-

He doesn’t understand, Adrienne’s mother’s voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts. He probably never will. Your father is a stubborn man, and closed off in many ways. Just remember who you are, and that I’m here for you, my beautiful daughter.

This only makes Adrienne sadder. She isn’t here anymore. How can Adrienne keep going if she isn’t here?

Suddenly, something shakes the mansion, sounding like a stampede.

Curiosity takes over, and Adrienne takes off to go find out what’s happening.

She opens the front doors of the mansion, and a large (probably 4 meters tall) rock person is stomping its way toward a police blockade.

When the monster is within 10 meters, the police officer standing on top of a police car yells: “F-ire!” His voice cracks with fear and all the surrounding police officers fire off their guns.

The rock monster holds up it’s arms, but instead of the bullets doing any harm, they make the cracks in between the monster’s skin glow brighter, and it grows to be 2 meters taller! The police officer that was on the car scrambles down and tries to get away, but the monster grabs the car the officer was previously standing on with one hand, shouts out an unintelligible word, then throws the car with ease at the police officer; who only just barely manages to get out of the way.

Whatever this thing is, they sure are very, very angry.

Adrienne sprints back to her room, and vaults over her sofa, turning on the TV to the news.

“I’m asking all Parisians to stay inside until the situation’s under control.” Mayor Bourgeois says into the microphone, and Adrienne lets out a snort. Having everyone stay inside is the right call, don’t want anyone getting in the way... but, the man would be more than happy if he were the only one that stayed inside. And with the way that the situation is being handled, it isn’t going to be solved any time soon.

Then it switches to the TVi news station, where Nadja Chamack reports. “As incredible as it seems, it has been confirmed that Paris is, indeed, being attacked by a monster. The police have been struggling to get the situation under control.” Up in the right corner, a camera still reports what the monster is doing. Which, by the looks of it, is picking up cars and throwing them at buildings, trees, and other cars, destroying buildings and otherwise just causing mayhem, carnage and... and death.

It switches to another news camera, and it shows the police officer that was on the car in front of the gates, he’s getting his arm bandaged by a firefighter, speaking to an interviewer. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from the officer’s broken arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” the officer mumbles.

Blinking and shaking her head, Adrienne looks away, trying not to be too ashamed of Paris’s police force. From the looks of things, this monster is absorbing kinetic energy and using it to grow stronger.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention.

It’s a small box, with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize on it.

She diverts her full attention to this box, a confused: “What’s this doing here?” Leaving her lips.

She picks it up, weighing it in her hand, moving it around and shaking it. It makes no noise. Shrugging, she opens it and finds a folded piece of paper. When she picks up the paper, she catches sight of a black ring, the corners of the face have silver raised points.

Suddenly, a bright green light glints off the ring, and a ball of green light bursts from it, temporarily blinding her, making her drop the paper, and box.

When her vision returns, there is a small, black being laying down in the air. It has a body covered with smooth, black fur, with a slight green sheen to it. It has a puff of fur on both cheeks, with two long, black whiskers poking out of each puff. There are similar tufts of hair on the bendy points of its limbs and back where the limbs connect to it. It has an aura that surrounds it that makes everything seem darker around it. Light seems to bend around it, like a black hole. It has two long, thin, puffy tails. It has two little ears that are currently drooped lazily, and little wisps of hair poke out from the inside. It has a tiny nose and snout. It... looks like a small deformed cat. And is absolutely adorable!

Suddenly, it uprights itself, stretching its arms and legs, little claws extending from it’s limbs, and releases a huge yawn. Upon closer inspection, each limb ends with a little paw. Its mouth reveals tiny, tiny fangs and an emerald green hue on the inside of its mouth. It’s ears perk up. Once it’s done with the yawn, the ears drop down again, and it opens its eyes to reveal two neon green eyes with black, slitted pupils.

“No way!” Adrienne exclaims. “This is so cool! You’re like the genie in the lamp!” She reaches a finger up to rub the little cat-genie’s forehead.

The little cat-genie launches back. It’s eyes going wide, with…. fear? But the cat-genie quickly schools its adorable little face into calm, uninterested, unimpressed neutrality.

“I met him once, so he grants wishes, big deal, I can do so much better and I'm personable!” The cat-genie crosses its nubs over its chest, claws extending slightly, spreading its leg nubs, like it’s pouting. Clearly trying to look intimidating, but Adrienne can see that it’s trying to gauge her reactions.

Huh, so the cat-genie speaks... it... it’s awfully squeaky and nasal.

It looks up to Adrienne, its eyes piercing into her soul. “Plagg, nice to meet ya.”

With the one sided greetings out of the way, The cat-genie known as Plagg zooms into a swirl before zipping off to explore the room, startling Adrienne some.

It lands on the foosball table, “Ooo, swanky!” Then it chomps down on a figure’s head, ignoring Adrienne’s “Don’t touch that!” by saying “Nope, not eatable.”

Just as Adrienne is about to grab Plagg, it takes off again, Adrienne’s ”Hey! Get back here!” going unnoticed as it locks eyes on an arcade’s joystick. “It’s so shiny!” Plagg lands on the joystick, uttering a curious “Can you eat this?” Before clamping its mouth down on the joystick ball.

Plagg turns away from it in disgust as it finds that it cannot, in fact, eat the joystick. “No, you can’t.” It says slightly dejectedly, then locks into something else and zooms away from Adrienne’s hand, leaving behind an excited “Ooh, what about this?”

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

Marinette hates back to school days. She makes sure to tell her computer screen just that as she watches the news.

At the moment, Sabrina’s father is talking to a news reporter, having his arm wrapped up by a firefighter. “Be confident! The strong arm of-“ he cuts himself off as a painful crack is heard from Officer Roger’s arm, his face contorting in pain. The firefighter then eases the arm down, and admonishes him for using his broken arm. “I meant to use the other arm...” he mumbles.

Marinette shakes her head. Officer Roger can be a... a special type of person sometimes.

She glances down to her mouse to click away from the news station, but finds a black box with Chinese characters she doesn’t recognize.

Picking it up, she opens it, and finds a folded up paper. When she removes it, she catches a glance of two red earrings with black spots on each stud before a bright red/pink light glints off of them and she is temporarily blinded.

When it fades, Marinette’s jaw drops. So does the box and paper.

Floating before her, with its head bowed, is a giant scarlet/pink, ladybug-like bug, with a head much larger than the rest of its body. It has two antennae coming from its forehead and droop toward its back. It has a large black dot on its forehead. On its back is a scarlet ladybug shell, with five small black spots. From this shell are some pink, translucent wings that aren’t moving. The light around it seems to be…. brighter. Its limbs are little, sectioned, black nubs.

Suddenly its head shoots up, the light glinting off it’s large white eyes that have rings of blue in the center.

“Haaweeelllp!” The word leaves her mouth in a shriek as she jumps back, tipping over her chair, getting as far away from this- this- this giant bug! “It’s a giant bug!...”

The bug, no not a bug, a mouse… “A mouse!”

No, a-a bug-mouse, “Bug-mouse!”

it slowly floats its way toward her.

It continues to get closer.

“A- an alien!” She almost shrieks.

“Everything’s okay! Don’t be scared!” Its voice is high pitched, super high pitched, and slightly squeaky.

Marinette’s terrified, she does the only sensible thing. She grabs something behind her and chucks it at the bug-mouse-alien, eyes going wide, and it dodges her projectile. “Bug-mouse can talk! Bug-mouse talks!” She continues to throw things at the bug-mouse-alien, her terror only growing as it continues to dodge all of her projectiles.

“Listen, Marinette...” the bug-mouse-alien continues to speak. “I know everything is strange...”

As it talks and gets closer, Marinette can’t help but release terrified squeaks and whimpers as she gropes around for something to trap the bug-mouse thing under.

Suddenly, her fingers find a cup, and delight shoots through her as she lunges at the bug-mouse, slamming the glass cup down around the little —giant?— thing. She absently wonders why the glass didn’t shatter.

It looks up at Marinette, its expression and eyes calm. “Okay, If this makes you feel safer.”

It has no qualms about being stuck?! What can this thing do that makes it so that it isn’t scared of being trapped under something?!

Marinette keeps the glass firmly on the ground. “What are you? How do you know my name?” She asks.

“I’m a kwami,” the bug-mouse puts a nub on its chest. “And my name is Tikki!” it perks up as it says it’s name. “Now, just let me explain.” Its voice is slightly muffled by the glass. It makes the bug -Tikki- sound even weirder.

“MAMAN, PAPA!” Marinette shouts, inching her way to her trap door.

“No, no, no!” Tikki tries to warn her, pressing against the glass, but Marinette still ignores it. She puts a hand on the trap door and Tikki calls out again. “No!” It tries again, pushing against the glass, but Marinette keeps ignoring it.

“MAMA-“

“Shhh, No!” Tikki cuts her off, phasing through the glass and floating in front of her face. “I’m your friend, Marinette, you can trust me.”

Marinette narrows her gaze,

“Marinette?” comes the worried voice of her Maman, and Tikki and Marinette stare at eachother in tense silence.

“...It’s nothing, Maman, sorry”

Marinette turns to Tikki, the talking bug-mouse-alien-- ahem, Kwami. “Explain.”

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

In such a big room, filled with so much stuff, the kid doesn’t even have any food to eat! Plagg’s tried so many things. Still, nothing edible!

He could just use atrophy and siphon off some energy, but that requires effort, and he did not wake up from 250 years of being dormant only to have to do things as soon as he is activated!

Plagg is zipping around this human child’s room and finds a semi-promising rectangle. Hopefully this works!

He bites down, only for his fangs to meet hard, foul tasting material. Ugh, he should just Cataclysm this whole room...

He drops the remote, and raises a paw, but the human-child drops from the ceiling and wraps her feeble, insufficient, human fingers around his body, which does not make him release an embarrassing yelp. Nope, not at all. It’s funny, how the human thinks she can keep him in place with just her fingers wrapped around his body, which is made from the very essence of chaos, destruction, bad luck and most importantly, if he does say so himself, death!

...Eh, he’ll let the child have her victory.

“Listen, I still don’t know what you’re doing here.” The child says, her tone stern.

Ha! As if a human can intimidate him!

This is really getting old, he just wants sustenance! Even mushrooms will do! Birds and fish are better, but they taste weird. Cheese is preferable, and Camembert is exquisite.

“Look, I’m a kwami. Kwamis grant powers.” Plagg narrows his eyes at this, this uninformed child. “Basic gist of mine is Destruction. Got it?”

“Nuh-Uh.” The child shakes her head, her blonde locks swaying. The locks of hair that grab the light just right... that are probably super soft locks... Locks that would make for an amazing be—

Plagg shakes his head. No time to get distracted. He needs food.

“Good.”, He looks around before looking into the child’s eyes and not the attention grabbing hair that looks like such a great spot to sleep in. “Got anything to eat, I’m starving!”

The child narrows her eyes, staring at him. Plagg stares back, keeping his expression neutral.

“Father’s pranking me, right?” The child stands up, leaning her massive, disgustingly proportionate, head over him. Plagg looks away, he does not want to see up that nose, no matter how clean it is. It’s gross.

“Wait... that’s not possible, Father doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Plagg pulls himself from the human’s surprisingly tight grasp, spreading his limbs out wide. No matter what he thinks of this rule, the last time he didn’t obey it, Tikki ignored him for 500 years and his wielder caused Vesuvius, all because Tikki’s wielder, by extension, also ignored him. “Your dad must never know I exist. Or anyone for that matter.”

Adrienne tilts her head. Furrowing her eyebrows. “Plagg, I’m pretty sure Father already knows other humans exist...”

Plagg raises his eyebrows. This kid might actually be fun to be around. “I meant no one else can know that I exist.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”

“Anyway,” Plagg zips into the kids face. “Where. Is. The. Food?” The kid looks at him with the weirdest expression.

“I only get to eat at breakfast, lunch and dinner. No snacks.”

Plagg narrows his eyes. “That’s no way to live!”

“Well It’s how I live.”

Plagg drops his tone a bit. “It’s not a way that anyone should ever have to live.”

The kid’s eyes go wide

Plagg stares into her eyes, cocking his head. “Well, time to get this out of the way.” Plagg suddenly zips from in front of Adrienne, and into her bathroom. “I’m a kwami, and I can grant you the ability to destroy anything you touch!”

Plagg stops before a roll of paper, hanging above a , quite frankly disappointing, porcelain throne. He grabs and *nearly* lets out a delighted gasp. Such an amazing invention! He drops it to the ground before landing on it and it starts to unravel. FUN!

“All you need to do is put on the ring! To be able to do anything, you call out “Claws Out” and to activate your power, call out Cataclysm, you’ll be able to destroy anything you touch!” He explains as he runs around the room on this roll of super soft paper. (Well, actually the powers that he can grant are much more than a mere Catalclysm, but the kid isn’t ready for that yet. Plus, Tikki’d kill him if he were to tell her that.)

“I can do that?”

“Psssshhh, no, I can do that, I just allow you to be able to do that.”

“What do I say again?”

“Claws Out.”

“Claws out?”

The ring sucks Plagg in and he’s getting ready to meld with the kid. Create what she wants subconsciously. In a flash, he’s inside her mind and he’s ready to shape her body to the way it’s supposed to be, but stops. It would make her happy, but she isn‘t ready for anyone else to know yet, she’d have a break down. And, probably worse. So, he lets her mind create her suit in accordance to what she wants right now.

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

Looking in her mirror, Marinette puts on the earrings. “So, you’re saying, you can give me the power to…. create anything—“

“At random, you won't be able to choose it!”

“—and restore damage—“

“Only if you cast Lucky Charm! And it only restores damage dealt to people caused by a specific event that has happened recently.”

“Okay, so, you can transform me into a ladybug styled superhero, with increased physical and mental capabilities-“

“Mental only in the fact that you’ll be able to take in more information and take it in faster, other than that, it’s all you!”

“And I can create a random object by calling out Lucky Charm and restore damage dealt to living things caused by a specific event by calling out Miraculous Ladybug?”

“Yep!”

“And I can become this Ladybug by….”

“Calling out ‘Spots On” Tikki looks into Marinette’s eyes, he doesn’t know it yet, he hasn’t realized it yet.

Hopefully he will. She really doesn’t want Marinette to go through more of his life in unknown misery. Luckily, when the time comes, she can help!

“Spots On?”

“Wait I forgot—“

Melding with his mind, Tikki ignores the urge to shape Marinette’s body the way she knows he feels subconsciously like he should. He doesn’t know yet, and she doesn’t want to put that stress on him. But Sugar cookies she forgot to tell him about the ability to purify things! And that the way to take down this thing is to destroy the corrupted object, or that there is a corrupted object. Well, he’s her wielder, he’ll figure it out.

Technically Tikky can give her wielders so much more power, but this is the first time being her wielder, so she’ll have to ease Marinette into this.

[This is the image I used to base Nooroo’s, Tikki’s and Plagg’s designs on, I have also used it to alter Trixx’s, Wayzz’s, Pollen’s and Duusuu’s designs.]

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fan ficton #miraculous ladybug fic #trans girl! Adrienne #trans girl adrien #trans boy! marinette #trans boy! marin #trans au #wintertundra-art's trans au #miraculous ladybug rewrite #origins rewrite #rewrite au #some character descriptions have changed #powers reworked #my writing #part one of 3 #possibly 4 #nonbinary nooroo #it/its nooroo

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stellarlex · 4 years

Text

The Fog is Lifting (5/?) - Miraculous Ladybug

Intermission Part 1: ~Adrien Agreste after the first phone call~

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

The moment he hung up that phone, the smile slid off of his face, and with speed he thought he could only achieve while cloaked with miraculous magic, Adrien Agreste raced to his unnecessarily enormous bathroom....

And vomited.

He puked, and puked, and puked some more, until absolutely nothing was left. Throughout his heaving, he could faintly feel Plagg gently rubbing his back, showing concern he often buried under snark, sass, and mountains of Camembert cheese.

When his stomach finally deemed itself empty enough to stop him from heaving any longer, Adrien flushed the toilet and sat on the cold tiled floor, and began to cry. His body, already trembling from muscle spasms due to vomiting, began to tremble even more as he descended into sobs. Tiredly, he brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, and burying his face into what little space his arms had left to offer.

He hurt.

Oh did he hurt.

It took everything within him to not break down after hearing of Marinette's ordeal with Lila and her lack of faith in him as a friend. He held it back for the most part, but he did crack a little. And that crack just expanded more and more as he continued to listen about the monster Lila Rossi; The monster that he'd help to run rampant. The nausea he felt building with every realization, with every painful impact that Lila's foul lies had caused, and even the damage Chloe had done that he'd dismissed or shrugged off, was almost too much to bear. He'd been forced to steel himself, to not give away the storm of emotions that burned inside him like acid.

And even now, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the self loathing he felt towards himself was absolutely eating him alive.

And yet there was nothing. No sounds other than his sobbing. No wind from the open window, no dripping from the faucets. Even the water in the toilet next to him was absolutely still.

More importantly, however, is that there was no fluttering of butterfly wings, and no voice in his head trying to convince him to steal the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous.

He guessed that was for the best. Being akumatized on top of everything else that had occurred would only make him feel even more like a failure. Because that's what he was.

A complete and utter failure.

No matter how much anyone tried to say he wasn't, there was no changing just how much he'd utterly failed when it came to the current situation. He failed to realize just how dangerous Lila was, despite numerous examples. He failed to notice just how much the class dynamic was shifting to Lila's advantage. He failed to have common sense.

And most importantly, he failed Marinette.

And apparently, he'd been failing her for a long time, as evidenced by her admission of her lack of faith in him. His stomach lurched as he realized that he'd been failing Marinette since the day he met her, when he decided to bite his tongue about who actually put gum on her seat. And with that memory, more began to flip through his mind like some kind of sick film. He could do nothing but watch as his multiple failures to help and protect his friend replayed in his head over and over again. Forcing to him to relive his failures. But with each replay, he learned something new about his friend that he never realized before. He saw how she tried to hide her disappointment and hurt. He saw the frustration that tightened her jaw before smiling like everything was okay.

He saw how resigned she looked when she was denied justice, and forced apologize or take responsibility for things that were in no way her fault. He saw her exhausted smiles, and bags under her eyes as she tried her best to be their Everyday Ladybug. He saw how sad she looked when her concerns were dismissed, and how frustrated she was to stick to his idiotic advice about taking the high road with Lila, even though it hurt and infuriated her to let Lila lie and take advantage of their friends.

And as he saw this, strangely, his grief began to lessen as resolve took it's place. Resolve to be better, to do better. Resolve to learn from his horrible mistake.

Resolve to make things better for Marinette.

After all, he was at fault for failing to recognize the threat that Lila was and is, and was at least partially responsible for the people she hurt because of her lies. He could have and should have exposed her a long time ago. If not because of her making promises she couldn't keep to their classmates, but because she clearly hates Ladybug enough to side with Hawk Moth, a terrorist, in order to take her down. Why he didn't expose her after that he can only chalk up to pure naive stupidity.

The last of his sobs and sniffling quieted as he took one last shuddering breath before his breathing evened out. His mournful expression faded as he reached over to the toilet paper to wipe his mouth. Tossing it into the toilet and flushing, he stood up a bit shakily, trying his best to ignore the pins and needles feeling of circulation returning to his legs. As he walked to the bathroom counter to brush his teeth, he heard the light 'whooshing' sound of Plagg's flight near his head.

"Well, that happened." Plagg said, as he took in Adrien's expression in the mirror. Adrien scoffed, clearly not in the mood for Plagg's snarkiness, as he grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste.

"You were there to hear everything, so yeah." Adrien said as he began depositing a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush. "Do me a favor. Just tell me 'you told me so' and move on. I don't think I can take any more reminders about my utter stupidity and failure tonight." He said as he shoved the toothbrush into his mouth and almost violently began scrubbing his teeth.

"I told you so." Plagg said as he shrugged his tiny shoulders, before gently perching on Adrien's shoulder. "But I don't think you're stupid. Naive, definitely. Soft hearted, check. But stupid, absolutely not."

Adrien spat into the sink. "Plagg, don't patronize me. You heard everything they said. You saw how hurt Marinette was. How could I not be stupid? I could've nipped Lila's nonsense in the bud the very same day she lied to me on her first day of school. I could have stopped the spread of her influence. But instead I allowed her to run rampant, and mistakenly put her feelings above everyone else's. I allowed her lies to infect our classmates like a virus, and didn't notice how she was slowly turning everyone in our class against Marinette. She threatened Marinette and then had the nerve to try and con me into believing her lies like she hadn't just threatened someone."

Plagg's ears and tail drooped as he saw the fury building in Adrien's expression.

"What's worse is that she keeps trying to con me after she was already exposed by Ladybug as a liar right in front of me! And even called Ladybug the liar! And then there's that whole thing that happened when she attacked me for calling her out on it and stuffing me in my locker, and then tried to use my image to do the same thing she had just threatened to do to Marinette! And what did I do? Oh that's right. NOTHING. I didn't expose her."

"To be fair," Plagg cut in. "it's not like Pigtails told you about the threat. You didn't know about that when you gave her that advice so technically, you couldn't possibly have known just how dangerous Lila was."

"That's one of the worst parts of all of this. Because of my stupidity in dealing with Chloe, Marinette didn't have faith that I would do the right thing when it came to Lila. She didn't think I would be on her side or even believe her. We were supposed to be in this together and I practically handed the key to Marinette's demise right into Lila's hands because of my negligence. And then there's the fact that she helped Hawk Moth by working with Onii-chan when she wasn't even akumatized. She faked an injury just to separate Ladybug and I so that Onii-chan could defeat Ladybug. Ladybug could have been killed if that plan had succeeded. And yet," Adrien said with a self-depreciating laugh. "and yet I didn't expose her! Not even when she broke into my house, put me in a headlock, forced a kiss on me, took a picture of it, and then sent it to all of my contacts to make it look like she and I were dating!"

"Adrien, STOP." Plagg said as he flew from Adrien's shoulder to stop in front of his face. "I get it, you messed up. Everyone does. The important part is that you learn from it and try your best to do better. If anyone in this whole mess is stupid it's Chloe and Lila. They do wrong and when there are consequences, they refuse to learn and they refuse to do better. They blame others and are too self-absorbed to realize that the world doesn't revolve around them, and that other people matter besideds them. You could have done better with Chloe, I agree. But you tried to be stern with her and although it looked like she was trying to be kinder, it was insincere. She was only after your friendship. You two have a long history, and she was your only friend for most of your life until recently. You went easier on her when you shouldn't have, but you aren't responsible for her behavior. You even tried to help Lila, and she attacked you for it. I know you don't want to give up on people, but there are times when you should prune people from your life. You want them to be good, and believe they can, but those two have proven time and time again that they just aren't willing to do that."

"But I'm supposed to be a hero. I'm supposed to encourage people to do good." Adrien says, looking down at the counter, his fists clenched.

"Exactly. You're supposed to encourage them, not force them. You can't force someone to be good Adrien, and it's not your responsibility or place to do so. People who choose to do wrong are wholly responsible for those decisions." Plagg said before floating lower to look Adrien in the eyes. "You're being too hard on yourself. If you were really as bad as you say you are, you wouldn't be a hero, or this torn up about your mistakes. I would have never met you, and I would rather never have cheese again if it meant you couldn't be my Black Cat." Plagg said, a tender smile on his face.

Plagg's image began to blur as Adrien's eyes filled with tears. "You really mean that?" He said as he sniffled.

"Yeah kid, I do." Plagg said as he flew up and gently hugged Adrien's cheek and rubbed his own against his. "And if you tell anyone about this conversation I will deny it."

Adrien let out a watery laugh as he gently rubbed his eyes free of any tears. "Yeah I figured. Thank you Plagg."

"Yeah yeah you're welcome. Now rinse that toothpaste out of your mouth. You look rabid." Plagg said as he retreated from the bathroom to find some cheese.

Adrien looked into the mirror and snorted before finishing up and rinsing his mouth. Mouth thoroughly cleaned, he looked back into the mirror at his reflection and began to frown. Despite what Plagg had said, it didn't change the fact that he'd failed. But just like before, resolve began to build within him. Resolve to correct his mistakes. Resolve to learn from his mistakes.

And most importantly, resolve to be a hero. In and out of the mask.

And first on his list of villains to take down was Lila Rossi. Between her and Chloe, Lila was undoubtedly the most dangerous because her true nature was widely unknown, and her ability to instigate akuma attacks via her manipulations left lasting damage even after the akuma victim was defeated. She is a devil in disguise that hides behind a fake smile and fake stories that tugged at the heart strings. Her ability to turn people's words against them and wriggle out of being exposed was going to be tough to contend with, but with the help of his newly discovered allies, he was going to make sure that Lila would never be believed again.

And he knew just who to call to help him make that happen.

And so as Adrien turned on his heel to walk out of his bathroom, he began to plan.

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

Adrien was still up by the time sunrise came around. His phone call with Alya last night had given him a very good idea. As a model, he had quite a bit of inside knowledge when it came to photos and privacy laws. No doubt Alya did as well, being a journalist. He doubted that Lila knew them, considering how boldly she acted when she took that picture of him in his bedroom and then spread it around.

When Alya told him that what Lila had done was considered sexual assault, it stuck with him. She lied her way into his home, snooped through his things, put him in a headlock and kissed him, took a picture of it, and then spread it around. If that wasn't bad enough, it risked two of his guardian's jobs and caused an akuma attack.

He sighed, brushing his hair from his face. He was tired, having been up all night planning Lila's downfall. But for the most part, he believed that he'd finally come up with something to at least put the wheels in motion. Luckily, Adrien knew the family attorney's number like the back of his hand, and she would be arriving this morning. And even if his father didn't agree, Adrien made more than enough money to hire her himself and pay for the legal fees. He didn't think it'd come to that, however. He and his father were never really close, but Adrien knew enough about his father to know that his father cared about the image of his company and the image his family more than anything. And with what he already had planned, his father would have no choice but to side with him on this matter.

Sitting back in his chair and stretching, he was startled by the sound of a text notification. Quickly grabbing his phone and seeing Alya's name, he grinned before opening the text and responding back. She was almost done with her article. He barely had enough time to finish his text and send it before there was a knock at his door. He jumped up, startled, and he could see in the corner of his eye that so did Plagg before zipping under the bed to hide. The door opened and Nathalie stepped in, looking nearly as put together as she usually did if not for the frown on her face. She seemed to pause, more than likely surprised to see him awake before clearing her throat and standing in her usual rigid stance.

"Adrien, please get dressed quickly. Your father would like to see you in his office right away." She said before turning on her heel and exiting the room, no doubt standing outside the door.

Adrien sighed before standing up to get dressed. "Didn't even say good morning."

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

As Nathalie escorted him from his room to his father's office, he figured that their family attorney had been concerned that she was contacted by Adrien and not his father, and then contacted his father to make sure that everything was okay. He also figured his father would be highly annoyed and would have tried to cancel the meeting he made with her. No such luck. Since Adrien had contacted her, it would have to be Adrien that would have to cancel the meeting. No doubt his father would pressure him to do so, but he wouldn't budge on this. He couldn't, not when there was so much at stake. His phone was in his pocket, and the moment things were in place, he would enact the first part of his plan.

He wouldn't let his father bully him this time.

When they reached his father's office door, Nathalie swiftly opened it for him and gestured for him to go in. He took a deep breath, and then stepped inside the lion's den where his father was predictably waiting, standing in front of his mother's enormous portrait. Nathalie entered behind him before shutting the door and standing to the side.

"Adrien, whatever nonsense you are planning ends now. You will call our attorney and cancel the meeting." Gabriel said as he turned around. He was as imposing and intimidating as ever as he glared down at him. But whatever nervousness that had built up on his way there was quickly discarded as he stood as tall as he could in opposition of his father.

"No father, I will not." Adrien said, but couldn't help but shrink a little as his father's glare intensified.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. You will call the attorney, and you will cancel the meeting. There is nothing else to discuss." Gabriel said as he came closer, his imposing stance becoming even more intimidating with every step. But Adrien would not falter. He steeled himself, balling up his fists as his expression hardened.

"I said no, father. I called her here for an important reason."

"And what, pray tell could be reason enough to call the family attorney without my permission? I highly doubt it's anything really important. You're just like your mother, dramatic about everything." Gabriel said as he looked down at Adrien.

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang. Nathalie swiftly went to her desk to view who it was through the security camera, before turning back to Gabriel. "It's Mme. Deveraux, sir."

Gabriel nodded. "Let her in. I doubt she'll be here long since Adrien will cancel the meeting."

"I'm not canceling the meeting father. I already said no." Adrien said. He was getting really sick of his father acting like his feelings and decisions didn't matter.

"Stop your foolishness at once. This is not a silly game. You have wasted Mme. Deveraux's time by calling her here and have embarrassed me and this company." Gabriel sneered.

There was a knock on the door, but Adrien ignored Nathalie moving passed him to focus completely on his father. It was clear that Gabriel couldn't be reasoned with, so Adrien had to make sure that he had leverage, and what he had to say would certainly stun his father into silence.

"I didn't call her here for something foolish! You don't even know the reason I called her and you're already dismissing me, just like you always do! I wouldn't have even had to call her on my own if you would for once care about how I feel!"

"That's enough Adrien! Clearly your time in school around those hooligans you call 'friends' have been a bad influence on you. Lila Rossi was correct in her reports."

.....

What?

"Did you just say Lila Rossi?" Adrien said as his fists clenched even tighter, his nails and his miraculous biting into his skin. That....That was not something Adrien saw coming. He and his friends had already talked about how devious Lila was. He'd never thought that she'd already wormed her way into father's good graces, let alone act as a spy for him.

But it was more than that though. Based on what his father had just admitted to, it seemed that Lila had been very diligent in making sure that Adrien bent to her whims. The fact that she had been using his father to do so, and his father had allowed it, infuriated him.

"Yes, I did. She informed me of how naive you were and offered her help to look after you in school to help cut out all of the bad influences there. But based on your behavior, I fear I may have been too late."

"...You trust Lila over me? Your own son?"

"Based on how you're acting? Absolutely." Gabriel said.

The office door opened then, Nathalie escorting an olive skinned woman wearing a black pant suit. Her hair flowed down in dark shoulder length curls, her eyes a deep brown, almost black.

But Adrien wasn't paying attention to what Mme. Deveraux looked like, because her entrance had given him the chance (and the payback) that he'd been waiting for. He straightened his stance and crossed his arms.

"Well it's a good thing I did call Mme. Deveraux then, since Lila Rossi sexually assaulted me."

Gabriel's jaw dropped as Nathalie and Mme. Deveraux gasped, but Adrien kept talking before he could be interrupted. "And considering that you just admitted that you hired her to spy on me at school, I was right not to trust you to have my best interest at heart in this situation."

The room was silent for a moment, but Adrien realized it soon wouldn't be as he watched his father's dropped jaw clench, as well as his fists, before Mme. Deveraux stepped between them, closer to Adrien to block him from Gabriel's vision.

"M. Agreste, perhaps it would be better if we all sat down and talked about this."

Gabriel glared, but straightened up, fixing his ascot. "There is no need for that. Adrien is being ridiculous and trying everything he can to get attention. I'm sorry that he wasted your time, my assistant will see you out."

Mme. Deveraux narrowed her eyes at him. "Unfortunately sir, that will not be happening."

"....Excuse me?" Gabriel said, his shoulders tensing.

Mme. Deveraux crossed her arms. "I said, that will not be happening. Your son is the one who called this meeting with me and as you know, only he can cancel it. He also just made a claim of sexual assualt, and since he is a minor, I am lawfully obligated to investigate on his behalf. Especially since you, his own father, didn't believe. him."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed to slits. "I could always fire you, Mme. Deveraux. I am Adrien's father and I know what's best for him. Entertaining his dramatics is not what I pay you for."

"True, you could do that." Mme. Deveraux said. "But the thing is that it wasn't just you that hired me. I was also hired by Emilie Graham de Vanily Agreste to protect Adrien's interests. She may be missing, but she did not concede her authority over my employment to you. In her contract she also gave her sister Amelie Graham de Vanily authority over my employment if she was not available. I would need Amelie's and your signature to conclude my services."

"That is preposterous! I have never signed any contract like that."

Mme. Deveraux turned her head towards Nathalie. "Mme. Sanceour, as diligent as you are I'm sure you can easily pull up the contract from your records."

Adrien was almost startled to see Nathalie's usually stone cold assuredness, falter and crumble into uncertainty as she looked toward his father as if she were meekly asking his permission. He saw his father give a small nod, despite the glare on his face. Nathalie immediately began tapping away on her tablet. Her lack of tapping less than thirty seconds later informs the room that she's found the contract. Everyone watches as her eyes skim over what she's reading, and because everyone is watching her, they are immediately alerted when they see her expression crumple.

"Um, sir? Unfortunately, Mme. Deveraux is telling the truth. You did in fact sign the contract. Your wife's signature along with her sister Amelie's signature is also here. According to the dates of the signatures, your wife and her sister signed this first, and you were the last to sign. You even signed the part where you acknowledge that you have read it thoroughly."

"I also have video of your wife making her intentions very clear about the contract, as well as creating her will. I can forward that video to Nathalie on a later date. But as you can clearly see, I was telling the truth." Mme. Deveraux said.

Nathalie expression crumpled even further. "She's right. I'm sorry sir, but you are bound by the contract."

Before Gabriel could speak again, Mme. Deveraux cut him off.

"If you did not fully read the contract, that's your problem, not mine. The point is, that no matter how much you don't want me here right now, you have to deal with it. And even if you did succeed in firing me, I would still work for Adrien pro-bono, and I would also report you to the courts for trying to cover up a sexual assault accusation made by your child. You would lose custody of him before the day ends."

Adrien had never seen his father look so furious, but on the inside, Adrien couldn't be happier. Just like Adrien had hoped, his father was cornered and had no choice but to follow along with what Adrien wanted.

Mme. Deveraux gestured to the chairs around the coffee table. "Now, just like I stated previously, it would be better if we sat down and talked about this." She then took a seat on the couch and looked pointedly at his father when he continued to stand in place. "Please have a seat Gabriel. It's impolite to dawdle when you have guests, and it certainly doesn't look good from a business standpoint either."

His father grimaced and then took a seat, and after he did, Nathalie sat beside his father without fail. Both looked extremely uncomfortable and upset, and Adrien couldn't help but let a small grin slip onto his face. Before Mme. Deveraux could begin speaking, Adrien spoke up.

"Ah, before we begin, I'd like to go to the restroom."

Mme. Deveraux smiled and nodded. "Of course Adrien. I'll handle the preliminary issues while you're gone. As per my standard policy, everything beginning from the moment I arrived has been recorded to prevent any issues of hearsay, impropriety, etc. I assure you, you will not be kept in the dark about anything unless you explicitly want to be."

He nodded. "Thank you." He then turned on his heel and walked out of his father's office. The moment the door closed behind him he sprinted up the stairs, into his room, and into the bathroom. He leaned back against his bathroom door and slowly slid down it until he landed on his butt on the floor. And unlike the night before, what spilled out him this time was not tears, but laughter.

Pure, unrestrained, belly aching, snorting laughter.

He laughed long, and he laughed hard, and would have done so even longer if he wasn't startled by his phone getting a text message. Quickly, he pulled out his phone and pressed stop on the recording app he'd had running just before he left his room earlier to go to his father's office. He saved the recording, and then opened the text.

Text Message Saturday 7:03 A.M

Alya: I just finished the rough draft on the article you asked me to write. Here's a copy: Attachment: "The Hjonkening has begun!"

Adrien snorted, then made the decision to video call Alya rather than waste time texting.

"You get my text message Sunshine?" Alya said, and Adrien could hear the exhaustion in her voice and see it on her face. She'd either stayed up most of the night, or woken up early, and Adrien would bet money that it was the latter. Last night had been pretty emotionally exhausting for all of them. They'd been extremely lucky not to have been targeted by Hawk Moth, and Adrien mentally thanked Tikki for blessing them with the good fortune to be able to work through their emotions without repercussions. To be able to feel emotions freely was a luxury no one in Paris could afford thanks to Hawk Moth, so he was extremely thankful. He'd have to give her something nice if and when he got the opportunity to see her again.

"Yeah I got your message, and I see I'm not the only one who enjoys Untitled Goose Game memes. Ironic since you gave me grief over them last night." Adrien grinned.

"Oh hush, Marinette and I watched Jacksepticeye play it a few weeks ago. The memes are terrible but I can't deny that the chaotic power of the Goose is enticing. I want this power so that I can have vengeance against that liar for what she's done." Alya said.

"Oh trust me, I know the feeling. After everything that happened last night, I've realized that this was able to go on for so long because I let it. I tried to give Lila multiple chances to be a decent human being, and it backfired. I realized I tried to do the same thing with Chloe and that backfired too. I was stupid to believe that just giving them chances would change them. What I should have done was held them accountable. I should have held Chloe accountable all those times back then, and I should have done the same for Lila. Marinette would have trusted me to have her back if I had, and she more than likely wouldn't have kept the fact that she was threatened to herself either. But that's going to change. I'm through with giving people chances that just take advantage of them."

"I hear you Sunshine. I'm glad that we're all working together on this. I'm especially thankful for Mylene. It was her that noticed Lila's behavior, and actually investigated to gather evidence. She did more work and had more success in revealing Lila's true colors in less than a day than I did in the entire time that Lila has been going to our school, and I'm the journalist. If anyone should have caught on to Lila's crap in the beginning, it was me. Even when I put out my retractions and apologies on the Ladyblog after all of this, it won't change the fact that my credibility has been ruined. It hurts, but it's no less than what I deserve for not doing my job. I got blinded by the gold plated crap coming out Lila's mouth, and hurt my best friend by not believing her. I even held Marinette to the same standards I was supposed to abide by and demanded evidence that Lila was lying, and did none of the research." Alya said, her expression downcast.

"At least you're taking responsibility. And I think your viewers will be more forgiving once we take Lila down. Speaking of which, it turns out that my father had hired her to spy on me in school."

Adrien saw Alya's face twist into something resembling fury and disgust.

"......What?"

"Exactly. I'll tell you the details later, but what I will say is that something is suspicious about that entire thing. My dad is smart, and extremely paranoid. He would never fall for Lila's lies. He's the type to take out multiple background checks on his potential and current employees. He would never just strike this kind of deal. I don't know if there's any paperwork regarding her quote, "services" unquote, but I highly doubt it. Lila would never want any paperwork because that would leave a trail."

"Get to the point Sunshine. The girls will be waking up soon and if you wanna keep this part secret, I suggest you hurry up."

"Right, sorry. My point is that my dad would know exactly what kind of person Lila was. The fact that he would hire her to spy on me is out of character. Especially since he's always been paranoid about my safety. He said that she's been reporting to him to help cut out all of the negative influences at school. He even said he trusted her more than me."

"And I bet I know who's on the list Lila believes is a bad influence on you." Alya said.

Adrien nods. "Marinette."

"At this point Sunshine, I would be more concerned with why your dad, who is smart enough to know what kind of person Lila is, is allowing Lila to have her way in the first place and backing her. We know what Lila is getting out of it, possible sway over your life and better access to you with your dad's blessing, but what could your dad possibly get out of it? If he wanted you separate from your friends he could do that himself by just taking you out of school."

Adrien went still. Alya was right. It wasn't hard to see what Lila was getting out of being associated with his father, the self serving parasite that she was. But his father was another matter entirely. Fortunately for Adrien, he had a great attorney on his side who had his father cornered.

Adrien grinned. "That is curious, but don't worry. I've got my dad right where I want him. Thankfully, my family attorney is firmly on my side and has made it very clear to my father that he has no power over her. I confessed that Lila sexually assaulted me while she was there, and she warned my dad that if he tried anything he would regret it."

"That reminds me of why we're talking. I-"

"Alya?"

Adrien could see Alya's head turn, and behind her was her two younger sisters, rubbing the bleariness from their eyes.

Alya quickly turned back around. "Oops, gotta go Sunshine. Don't forget to read the file I sent you, and make sure you save multiples in different locations just in case. Give one to your lawyer too. It'd be better for her to look it over before I post it so that we have our bases covered. See you Monday!"

Alya hung up, and Adrien looked at the time on his phone before standing up. He'd been gone for long enough and he didn't want the others to get suspicious. He quickly sent a copy of the recording to Mme. Deveraux, instructing her to keep that secret until further notice. Going back to his texts with Alya, he quickly downloaded the attachment that Alya sent and begin reading over it on his way back to his father's office. He didn't realize it, but as he read, a smug grin grew larger and larger on his face.

This.....This was going to be good.

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

Tags: @akana-sama @heredemaquam @lamestplaceontheinternet @graduatedmelon @vivilakitty @sinfulfoxbeast @dnsakina @fatimaabbasrizvi @crazylittlemunchkin @two-faced-biatch @coccinellegirl @elliecake5 @rekindledloveforbooks

#ml salt #ml fic #ml season 3 #startrain #mylene haprele #the fog is lifting #adrien agreste #lexysama

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cherrysweather · 4 years

Text

Claudeleth Week, Day 6: birthday/fate

[Pairing: Claude von Riegan x F!Byleth]

[Genre: fluff>slight nsfw/nsfw*]

*POP*

Everyone turned to the noise of the confetti shooters when Sylvain and Raphael used them;

“Is he here?!” “Wait! Keep him out! We still have to finish with the wall decorations!” “Don’t worry, he isn’t here.” Sighed Leonie, continuing to do what she had to “Then why are you two using them?!” “We were just checking if they worked” “Of course they work you dumbasses!!” Marianne had to stop Ingrid and Hilda from killing those two.

“I heard that a birthday it’s not fun enough without a dead or two; if it’s like that, we’re at a good point” “Not you two professor” Lysithea shook her head “You should go and check on him, I don’t know if Dimitri’s gonna be able to hold him for much longer, knowing him” “You sure? Then ask someone if they help you if you want to help with the wall decorations” Byleth ran off before Lysithea could throw her something, hearing her screams anyway.

Outside, the evening was lovable: it was neither cold nor hot but a gentle wind cuddled everyone, making shiver who was most susceptible to the breeze, like Byleth; the light clouds were spread everywhere in the orange sky that became purple with some black towards the horizon. It was a perfect day for a birthday; for HIS birthday.

She luckily found both the too-grown-up-children she was looking for at the training grounds, while replacing old or broken weapons with new ones “Aren’t there people who work for these things?” Byleth picked an axe from the ground, putting it in the right box “Surely, but since you all decided to ignore me today, Dima didn’t know what to invent to keep me busy” Claude raised his eyebrow as he looked up to Byleth “It looks like we’ve been exposed, professor” “We weren’t ignoring you, avoiding is the best term” “The better I feel!” He took the box of the old weapons, moving it near the door “We’ll make it up to you!” “Who said that I’m going to forgive you?” “Come on Claude, we all did it for good” Dimitri grabbed his shoulders and pushed him out the training grounds “Where are we going now? To groom some horses or to fix the saddles of the wyverns?” “Shut up and follow us”.

They took him for a walk until the sun went down completely to give time to others to complete preparations, speaking with him without problems even if they still didn’t wish him happy birthday to keep the surprise (but, frankly, they didn’t even hope to surprise someone like Claude). Byleth quickly checked the hall in to make sure everything was ready before they brought the birthday boy in. “Close your eyes” “So you can throw me in a hole?” Dimitri put his hands on Claude’s eyes to cut it short “Come now” As they brought him in the hall, who had them, took the confetti shooters by the string “Ok, keep your eyes closed” Byleth said as Dimitri took off his hands from his face “When you want” They waited on purpose a few moments after he opened his eyes completely before pulling the string, trying to surprise him with the noise “Happy birthday!” the names they used went from a simple “Claude” to “old man”, “old ball and chain” and so on to emphasize his increase in years; only Mercedes and Hilda used cute names like “Claudie”, just to annoy him.

Silence.

He stayed still, watching around him what his friends made for him, the only sure sign of life he gave was the reflection of the light in his eyes becoming shiny. “I-I should thank you all now, right? Sorry for the awkward silence” he laughed like always, opening his arms to hug as many people as possible. It was the first time they saw Claude with teary eyes, but they were happy, knowing that those were tears of joy. They pulled him from the arms completely inside the hall, giving him a paper crown they made for him; everyone wrote or drew something on it, as a way of saying “I’m with you too”.

The party started immediately; Raphael, Caspar and Ingrid were lost in the buffet, Ignatz was secretly looking for a perfect spot to create a painting of that evening, Hilda and Marianne were setting up the gifts on a table to create a cute composition, Mercedes and Ashe tried to convince Annette to sing something, Dedue stayed to talk with Claude as they both waited for Dimitri to come back since they were searching for him for help for the next battle and, Felix was at the training grounds. So Sylvain had to go looking for him.

Byleth tried to be everywhere for everyone, but the first time she went near Claude, he tied her up to him “Why do I think you’re behind all of this? “Do you have a problem with it?” she asked curiously, hugging Claude from the side, resting her head just below his shoulder “Not at all, it has been almost a decade from the last time I’ve had a party for my birthday, so I’m not used to surprises like this anymore” “Start to get used to it again, this is just the first” “Then isn’t it better if I don’t get used to it anymore?” “...Maybe”

Right after they started to eat the cake Mercedes made, pieces of it started flying for no reason and as soon as a piece touched Lorenz’s and Ferdinand’s clothes, DISGRACE. They were so close to the tears but they only started to kill everyone with words, keeping their finesse as nobles anyway; maybe the Almyran beer that Byleyh chose for the buffet did its dirty duty, also because Sylvain, after rescuing Felix, managed to steal him a dance without punches on the arms and kicks in the back like he always received when he tried to approach that two-legged cat.

So the evening went like that, everyone was so happy and carefree, something that at that time of the war was more unique than rare, maybe too carefree. Since, seeing a whole mountain of drunk people was a, fantastic, sight. The only sober people were Marianne, Lorenz, Linhardt; Ashe and few more. Like, three more. “So what are you all going to do? This isn’t a big dorm for drunk people you know” Byleth had to raise her voice to be heard by everyone “Next time I’ll choose only some fruit juice, you villains” she was helped by who was sober to pick up who was asleep because of the alcohol, entrusting them to who knew where their rooms were.

“Thanks for the night everyone! Take care!” “For the next party just water professor!” Everyone left apart Claude, who was still sleeping on the couch while Byleth settled everything, pinching all the candles’ fuses to turn them off, except for the one near the couch. “Claude” once she finished with the cleaning, she sat next to his exhausted body, passing a hand on his face and using the other one to shake his body, trying to wake him up “Come on, wake up old-sleepy-drunk-dumbass-Claude” she chuckled at her words as she started to poke every spot on his face, opening his eyelid without too much strength. His complaints were the proof that he had finally woke up “Leave me alone, I want to sleep-” “Then go sleep on your bed; isn’t it comfier?” “It’s too far” he just kept whining, turning and giving his back to her “Don’t you dare give me your back Claude” “Who’s Claude?” “If you don’t know, how should I know, Riegan?” “It’s Von, Riegan” he stretched and slipped on the floor in an attempt to get up “Leave me heree..” “Do you want to end your party laying on the ground?” she pulled him up by the arms, keeping a hand on his back “Isn’t it over already?” he hugged her, using her body as a support, forcing her to lean against the table so as not to fall “If you want it to be over, then yes” she patted his back, sighing softly against his chest “You smell like beer” “Does that bother you? I can go take a shower” “No, I liked this beer’s smell, and it somehow suits you” “It was Almyran after all” “If you say so”

They remained there talking for some minutes, also to give Claude some time to sober up. Byleth no longer had half a knot since Claude did nothing but pass his fingers through every strand of her hair to distract himself “Are we going to sleep or do you want to stay here all night?” “Sleep? Do you want to sleep on my birthday? I didn’t say the party’s over yet” he said, placing his hand behind Byleth’s neck to get her face closer, pressing his lips on her nose, making them then slip on hers. She shivered under his touch, keeping a hand on his chest to keep a few inches free between their bodies “The hangover always makes me so contact-seeking, I’m sorry” he tried to sound even a little bit guilty, but he failed miserably, continuing to move his lips on her body, taking off her hand from his chest to eliminate the distance between them “C-laude” she tried to cover the parts of her body that Claude kept showing the world to gain territory for his kisses “We’re still in a hall open to everyone” her attempts of reasoning with him were answered with other wet, noisy kisses “Then what? What would tell us who see us?” he looked right into her eyes with a gaze filled with desire mixed with those sinful emotions given by the alcohol that continued to circulate in his body “Maybe that we’re shameless people who perform obscene acts in public?” as she spoke, her dress flew in the air “Claud-” “We’ll deal with it” he chuckled as one of his legs made room between hers, desperately searching for friction with his lower body against her hip and thigh. After all, she let her go too, putting her hands on him and removing from her sight that piece of cloth embellished several times that this time did nothing but cover without reason that chest that she was never tired of looking at when she had the opportunity “You’re the worst” “Oh me? You also have your dirty hands on my body you know” he grabbed firmly her hips, lifting her as far as he could and throwing her on the couch in the least gentle way possible “But you’re the one who’s treating me like a sack of potatoes; with a hole, for this time” she pushed his face toward the side with a very slow and weak slap “Oh well, excuse me teach” he tried to bit her hand when it was close enough to his mouth, failing every time because of Byleth’s rapid reflexes.

Claude wedged the inside of her knee on his shoulder for easy access to her sensitive areas, filling the scars on Byleth’s legs with small kisses as she started to tremble slightly. “Since when we first met, when I was still a kid with hormonal crisis, I always asked myself what you’d be like at moments like this” he tried to keep alive the eye contact between them as he slowly went down toward her inner thigh “Silent and emotionless like always or, able to emit even the most silent of moans” he slowly rubbed his lips on her skin until he reached her panties, pulling them along the length of her legs to get rid of them. She covered her face that had never been so red in her whole life; she tried her best to keep her emotions under control but, with that man in front of her it was something impossible. Her back arched suddenly when all that remained of his face were just his bright green eyes that did nothing but stare at her, since the rest was completely covered by her body.

Their loquacity was interrupted without warning to make way for their continuous sounds mixed between moans, imprecations or just their voices whispering each other’s names; all framed by the noise of their hands rubbing on the body of the other or their skins, as they increasingly became sweaty, clashed. Their hands knew no limits for where to touch, sensitive or non-sensitive part of the skin didn’t matter, they needed to feel one with the other; what better way than with one inside the other? Heh.

He kept his free hand that wasn’t keeping him from being completely on the inner knee of her leg not resting on his shoulder, trying to calibrate his body weight so as not to bend too much her leg. One of her hand squeezed tightly his right bicep, feeling his muscles contracting under his skin, while the other tried to hold on his back, leaving some scratches whenever she tried to not make it slip. Every time Claude pushed deeper, out of Byleth’s mouth came a moan that took the sound of Claude’s name as it fully came out. “Khalid” he says, pausing for a moment “Try with Khalid, I’m somehow getting jealous with you keeping calling Claude” he chuckled throwing her hair back from her face. She didn’t ask anything, she just tried to climb his body, using the hand on his back and let the leg that was on his shoulder slide on the couch, pushing his back straight and approaching his face to print a quick kiss on his lips “Khalid” she said quietly, almost like a whisper, as she wrapped his torso with her arms, resuming the movement at the height of their hips, gently passing her fingers on his body hair, seeing some shivers on his skin.

He squeezed her body and tried to move with her, but every time he heard her calling him “Khalid”, he felt his legs melt completely; she noticed it, so she continued to whisper that name again and again against his hot skin, feeling his strong thighs become relaxed and soft beneath her. “B-By, move, I’m close” “Don’t want to, I’m so comfortable” she pinched his cheek with her lips “W-What? I ca-” “I couldn’t care less right now, I don’t like to squeeze lemons in half“ “We’re not talking about lemons now” she had to kiss him to shut him up, holding tightly one of his hands, without stopping her hips.

She luckily lost her stamina after they both reached their climax; she dropped all of her body weight on him, hugging him bringing her knees to his back as he too let himself fall on the sofa “I didn’t want you on me” she pouted at him, biting softly his ear to tease him “You didn’t complain when I was in you though” he sighed, avoiding her bites and starting to laugh when her hands started to beat him with that bit of energy she had left “Shut up!” she became purple from embarrassment, turning her back to him, playing the fake offended. He took one of her hands and slowly became to fill with kisses her body, starting from her head and running down her back. As he reached more or less the middle of her back, he was interrupted by a hand of her who gently took his chin, bringing him back at the height of her face, placing a kiss on his nose “Khalid?” she looked at his tired eyes, cuddling his face with her finger, fixing his messy hair and his beard, continuing to run her fingers through it even if he began to speak “It’s, a long story, but that’s my real name I guess, the name that my parents gave me when I was born” “So Claude was like a code name?” “More or less, they advised me to keep my real name hidden to avoid problems” she nodded, thinking “Where does this name come from? It sounds a lot oriental; it’s Almyra or somewhere near there?” she was curious like a child “Yes, it’s from Almyra but, I want to keep the whole discussion for a better moment” he smiled and kissed softly her lips “We have a lot of time now” “We’re still naked, in a common hall where everyone can see us” “Right!” She jumped on him, taking his shoulders with her hands to keep him down “You still have to make a wish” she looked at him with the most serious stare of them all “W-What? All of this for this senseless thing?” he laughed looking at her back “It’s not senseless! Come on, if you don’t want to say it it’s completely ok” she sat comfortably on his lap, waiting for his answer “A wish? Mmmhh...” he thought in silence, keeping his thumb in movement on her hand “Something that I want more than material things is probably a future; with both Fòdlan and Almyra in peace, Dimitri on the throne and everyone besides him or all over the continent to rule it as it should be; a future with you.” he brought her tiny hand on his heart, keeping it safe in his “That’s what I wish for and I will fight for it, especially for the last thing” he chuckled with a wink “Selfish, but I like the idea” she smiled and rested her lips on the knuckles of his hand “Hey just that it’s selfish” he took her cheek with two fingers, pinching it “H-Heyy” she fell beside him to avoid his fingers, sighing but still holding to his arm.

They didn't want to sleep there, but they didn't want to get up from that beautifully-heated sofa that now had their shape neither; so they stayed, hoping to have enough strength later to get up. “Is someone still here? I finished just now with the army reunion” That deep voice that came from the outside made them jump and the little wax that still kept the candle above them alive, betrayed them without problems “Hey’a Mitya! They kept you for a bit eh?” He spoke easily like he always did with Dimitri but Byleth used his body to cover herself “A-Am I interrupting something? I still had my gift to give you but I don’t want to bother you two” Claude could see clearly the red on his cheeks even if he was in the dark “Whaaat? Nonono! I wanted to invite you too! Come here!” He sat and held out his hand to his friend

Byleth could do nothing but to sigh and hold her head; probably Claude was giving himself a gift; selfish.

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

Ok so, I finally finished this horrible piece and I know I’m REALLY. TOO. MUCH. LATE. so I’ll write the next one as soon as possible, I’m sosososososososo sorry please forgive me T-T Anyway, for this one I tried to write a serious nsfw but I think you all noticed that I didn’t wrote exactly what was happening; that is because I like to go around these things and write them in the most indirect way possible to leave to those who read the freedom to choose and imagine the scene, the expressions, the emotions and everything you want So I hope you all liked this thing even if it’s probably the most cringe thing you will read in your life and that’s also why I won’t put these kind of nsfw in the requests list, I’m sorry ;-; Again, sorry for the long wait but I had some problems but I will try to end this wonderful week as soon as I can!! Love you all!!! <3

#claudeleth week #claudeleth #claude von riegan #claude x byleth #fe3h claude #byleth eisner #byleth

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speedybaeandbirdiebae · 3 years

Text

WandaVision: On a Very Special Episode... Part 2 AU Remake

Pietro and Candance are pulled into the hex and are now happy residents of Westview. But there is something more to just a visit with a long lost sister. Warnings: Spoilers from Episode 5 of WandaVision, uber cuteness of Billy and Tommy, and fangirling Pairings: Pietro Maximoff x Candance Wilson (OC), Wanda x Vision Words: 2266

It hurt, everything hurt. She didn’t know what was going on nor did she understand why she felt a warm summer’s breeze rather than the crisp autumn air. However, in her head she could hear someone repeat the phrase “Play your part, you’re no longer who you know you are, you’ve always been here in Westview, it is your home”. Sitting up on the soft green grass Candance looked around the strange town square. Everyone seemed to be going about their businesses. She could hear excited chatter, people weren’t paying her any attention, some of them did stop to stare at her, some of them pointed and whispered. She sat up and placed a hand to her head, she let out a soft groan an oncoming headache invaded her head. Looking down at her clothes she began to wonder just what she was wearing, however that voice in her head once again repeated the same phrase, telling her to play her part, she needed to keep things happy, hopeful, and no sorrow. “Pietro?” Candance whispered softly as she looked beside her and saw her boyfriend was sitting next to her, but wait he was staring up at the sky unblinking almost as if he was entranced by something. “Piet! Pietro!” Pietro snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at Candance with a small smile. His hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Hey sleepyhead.” “Pietro, I was asleep?” Candance asked softly staring at him. “Wait, you let me sleep in public like some kind of spazz?!” she slapped him in the chest. “How rude, maybe I should find someone else to be my husband then.” Pietro shook his head. “I’m sorry princess,” he chuckled before he stood up and dusted his pants off. “Come on, we need to get going to find Wanda.” “Wanda? You never mentioned a Wanda.” Candance said before a thought invaded her mind breaking through the cloud that was covering her memories. “Wanda…Wanda is Pietro’s sister; she’s my best friend and she needs hel—What if Wanda is his ex-girlfriend?! What if he’s cheating on me?!” “Wanda’s my sister,” Pietro assured her. “We haven’t seen each other since she left home when she was 15, our parents had left us alone and I tried to keep her happy.” “Right, your sister,” Candance got up and stretched as she once again took note of her attire. She was wearing a pair of leggings under a short skirt with a top that revealed her midriff. She reached up and touched her head feeling that her hair was held up in a tight high ponytail with curls framing her face. She looked over at Pietro quietly and took in his appearance. Pietro was dressed in a pair of black jeans with a purple shirt and a black leather jacket over it. His hair was slicked back with a few strands out of place. What stood out the most was the strange necklace he was wearing. However, something else was wrong, Pietro sounded different, he didn’t have his accent. That was one thing that Candance remembered him having, and she also knew had a better sense of style. What was going on? “Come on babe, we have to go visit Wanda,” Pietro told her. “I think she lives around her somewhere.” “Umn, ok.” Candance fell silent and gave a soft squeak of surprise when she felt him lift her up and into his arms. “Pietro, I can walk on my own.” “How can I let you walk when we’ll be running?” Pietro kissed the tip of her nose and took off running. He took a moment to look down at Candance as he noticed she was holding onto him for dear life. Wait why was he carrying her? She had something to keep up with him, right? She’d been lent a pair of wings by Sam---wait no Candance couldn’t keep up with him. She wasn’t gifted with powers. Not like him and Wanda. She was a normal girl he met in Sokovia when Candance was volunteering at a farm. Candance tried her best to figure out what was going on, why was everything so strange? Why did her head hurt? Most of all why was everyone they passed unphased by Pietro using his power in public? Shaking her head to clear the thoughts she sucked in a breath and laid her head on Pietro’s chest as she let him carry her to wherever the mysterious Wanda lived.

--------------------------------------- “Pietro and Candance were pulled into the hex,” Monica looked at Darcy and Jimmy with worry all over her face. She knew the two were capable of fighting but she also knew that Wanda would probably eject them from her world if they even tried talking to her. “Pietro?” Darcy asked. “You mean Pietro Maximoff? Wanda’s brother? I thought he was killed by Ultron.” “He was, but the technology used by S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back, and he had been recovering with Clint Barton and his family.” Monica explained. “And what’s his relation to Agent Wilson?” Jimmy asked. “Agent Wilson, Candance is Sam Wilson’s younger sister and also a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Monica said. “She and I are friends and I’ve had her help me out from time to time. She and Pietro are dating.” “Dating?” Darcy got a small smile on her face and looked at Jimmy holding out her hand. “Pay up Woo, I called it.” Jimmy rolled his eyes and pulled some money out of his pocket and handed it to Darcy. “So, Pietro and Candance went into the hex to bring Wanda out?” “No, Pietro might’ve ran inside the hex to save Wanda himself and if I know Candi, she probably went after him.” Monica shook her head. “But don’t count those two out, they might be the ones to get Wanda to stop the hex.” “Or she could kill them,” Darcy reminded Monica. “We’ve seen her angry and we don’t want to make her angrier. I---.” She heard Wanda and Vision arguing coming from the tv. She quickly walked over to it and looked at the scene unfolding. “This is new.” “New?” “Wanda and Vision don’t fight, and it looks like Wanda’s not cutting it out of her show.” Darcy said.

------------------------------------- Pietro sat Candance down in front of a house and looked at her with a small smile. “This is where Wanda lives,” he said in excitement. “I can’t wait until you meet her.” “Pietro,” Candance began and placed a hand on his cheek. “Something’s wrong, haven’t you noticed how everyone’s happy? And what happened to your voice and—ow, umn yeah I’m excited to meet Wanda.” “Did you hurt yourself?” Pietro asked almost immediately began checking her for any bruises. “No, I don’t see anything, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you while I was carrying you?” “No no, just a headache,” Candance assured him with a smile. “I’m fine, come on let’s go say hi to your sister.” Pietro nodded as he turned to ring the doorbell. He didn’t notice a figure hiding behind some bushes in the yard nor did he notice that Candance had gone to investigate. Candance for a second had regained control of her mind and looked around the yard, she reached into her…handbag and groaned when she saw the only thing in it was a squirt gun. Shaking her head she walked toward the bushes and got closer and closer until. A stray black cat leapt out of the bushes and hissed at her before taking off. Candance rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder when she heard the front door open. She spun around and saw it, or rather her. “Wanda is here, so she’s sa---ow…” Candance fell to her knees and held her head before looking up with a small smile and got up as she jogged up to where Pietro was. “Wanda who is this?” Vision asked. Wanda looked at Vision before looking back at Pietro. She didn’t say a word and merely continued staring at him in disbelief. “Long lost bro gets to squeeze his stinkin’ sister to death or what?” Pietro asked and held open his arms for Wanda to hug him. “Pietro…” Wanda whispered before she hugged him tightly. Pietro hugged his sister with a small smile before looking up and took notice of Vision. “Who’s the popsicle?” Wanda stayed silent before noticing Candance standing behind Pietro. “Candance?” she whispered before shaking her head. There was no way that her brother was here let alone her best friend. “Wanda, I’m sorry for dropping in unexpectantly, but I wanted to see you.” Pietro told her before he turned and grabbed Candance by the hand and pull her inside the house. “I know you have several questions but first I’d like you to meet Cadence, we’re going to be married in a few months.” “Hi,” Cadence said as she tried to figure out where she had seen Wanda before. It was strange but for some reason it seemed as though they met before. “I’m sorry that we didn’t call but Pietro insisted on surprising you.” “No problem,” Wanda waved a hand and smiled. “Oh, um Pietro and Candance, this is my husband Vision.” “Vision huh?” Pietro looked Vision up and down as he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you meet him?” “At um, a party,” Wanda said quickly. “Vision and I have been married for awhile now, we’ve lived in Westview for years.” “Oh cool,” Pietro said. “So, I think me and bro-in-law should get to know each other, how about you and Candi go and get to know each other.” “Good idea,” Wanda said. “Follow me.” Candance followed Wanda into the kitchen, as she looked at her quietly before sighing. “So Wanda, you and Pietro grew up overseas and moved here when you were teenagers?” “Uh, yeah sort of, our parents are…” Wanda began and paused. “Our parents are no longer with us, but Pietro coming here after 7 years is kind of a surprise.” “I didn’t know he had a sister,” Candance laughed softly and shook her head before looking at Wanda as she walked forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Wanda, what’s going on? Why are we here? Are you ok what’s goi--.” “Candance are you ok?” Wanda asked narrowing her eyes as red magic began to circulate around her hands. “Yeah, I meant are you ok, I know how weird it is for Pietro to be here,” Candance said and let Wanda go. “I’m sorry can I have a glass of water?” “Yeah…” Wanda stepped away and went to get Candance a glass of water. She took note of the strange bag on Candance’s back. “So where are you from?” “Oh, I’m from Harlem, New York.” Candance said brightly and looked around the kitchen. “I was raised by my brother after our parents were murdered by gang members. I think that’s why Pietro and I bonded so quickly two orphans in this world with just our siblings.” “I see, and you’ve seen your brother?” Wanda asked pouring water into a glass before sliding it to Candance. “Hmn? Yeah, Sam is in Washington D.C. on business for a while,” Candance explained. “He and his friend are running our family’s restaurant.” “I see,” Wanda said as she began walking around to get behind Candance to inspect the bag she was wearing on her back. “So, your brother lives nearby, and you decided to come with Pietro to see me?” “Yeah, it’s a fun road trip before Pietro and I get married.” Candance began to giggle. “I think he wants to run off to Vegas to get married.” “I see,” Wanda managed to get behind Candance and reached for the bag before she saw Candance turn around. “Oh do you want me to take your backpack up to the guest room where you Pietro will be staying?” “No thanks,” Candance said and looked at Wanda with a serious look. “You’re obvious curious about what I have in this bag aren’t you?” “no no,” Wanda said shaking her head. “It’s nothing really,” Candance took off the backpack and opened it as she held up a piece of red fabric attached to a red sleeve. “A design I’m working on for Halloween, but you’ll have to wait and see what it is, since I want to keep it a secret from Pietro.” “Oh, I see,” Wanda laughed it off as she finally relaxed deciding that Candance couldn’t have been sent in to pull her from her life she had built with Vision. “Hey, we should go into the living room and see how the guys are doing?” Candance asked. “I’m sure they’re probably bonding.” “Right.” Wanda said and followed Candance out of the kitchen into the living room and laughed at the sight of Vision being held in a headlock by Pietro. “Pietro, Vision what’s going on in here?” “He attacked me,” Vision said. “Stop being a baby.” Pietro chuckled. “I thought I’d show bro-in-law some Sokovian self-defense moves. He’ll need to learn since he’s married to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes but laughed deciding to let Pietro have his fun. She did begin wondering if she brought Pietro back to life, but why did she bring Candance to her world too? Was it because she missed her best friend? PLEASE STAND BY

#wandavision #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff #candi wilson #Speedy Bae and Birdie Bae Fan Fiction #MCUfanfic #MCU fanfiction #mcu au #WandavisionAU #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver

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weddie-weddie-wedding · 4 years

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Little vaguely-venty weddie drabble tw for gore violence and death

___

Some part of Eddie hesitated, just for a moment. As he stood, towering over Waylon’s small frame before him, Eddie couldn’t be sure whether the hitch was from fear or overwhelming excitement. Waylon was woozy, his head almost visibly spinning as blood dripped from his nose, slow and near silent. The only sounds in the room were of gentle drops of blood splattering against the cold floor below, and both mens’ elevated breathing. Waylon, with shaking and heavy breaths from the shock and dull pain; Eddie, with breaths quaking from a strange, dark pleasure stirring in his chest and weighing his stomach down. Before him, tied neatly to a chair, was his darling. Waylon’s arms and legs were tied with thick rope at the ankles and wrists. He didn’t bother resisting, as he knew it would be useless. Even if he managed to scrape enough of his skin away to free himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get far like this; not while Eddie was still in the room. At least, this is what Waylon told himself, how he justified his lack of action.

Hazy eyes lifted, Waylon’s soft head following slightly, and saw themselves glinting back, reflected by the knife in his captor’s right hand. Waylon blinked, long and slow, a blink that some might just mistake for a look of contentedness. The distorted eyes blinked back, it was fuzzy and distant but Waylon knew the eyes in the knife belonged to him. His eyes lifted higher one more time, and met Eddie’s own clouded pair. The other man’s face was burning, red with heat, but Waylon wasn’t sure whether the heat came from rage or excitement. Somehow, he wished for it to not be rage. Somehow, he knew he would get his wish.

“Darling,” Eddie’s voice came out in a wisp, more of a breath than a true word.

Waylon did not respond, at least not directly. His head dropped again, staring at his bare feet and watching the tiny pool of blood slowly, slowly form between them.

“How precious you look,” Eddie continued.

Eddie’s arm moved behind him, extending the knife away from Waylon as his other hand made its way to Waylon’s jaw and held it. His hands were warm, large, and rough; they were calloused, but the firmness in his grip would almost have been comforting to Waylon in any other situation. Almost…

Eddie’s hand moved from Waylon’s jaw to his mouth instead. His fingers grazed Waylon’s lips, collecting the blood from his nose as they moved. A faint smile grew on Eddie’s own lips, his eyes half-lidded with bliss at the sight and feel and scent of Waylon’s blood. His hand trailed down Waylon’s lips, down his chin and onto his neck, leaving a thin layer of still-warm blood.

Eddie could feel Waylon’s heartbeat through the veins in his neck, and it was pumping exceptionally hard. Strange, he thought, that the other man was showing no other signs of terror; it was almost as though his heart wasn’t pumping out of fear, but for something else. Regardless, Eddie stretched his fingers out and to his delight, discovered that one hand fit almost perfectly around Waylon’s neck. Unable to help himself, Eddie’s hand clenched and cut of the circulation there. Waylon tried to gasp, but could only make a strangled, gurgling squeak in its stead. This sound was overwhelming to Eddie, he wanted more of that.

Without taking his left hand off of Waylon’s throat, Eddie set his knife on the nearby sewing table and shifted so both of his hands could ever so gently squeeze Waylon’s soft throat. Waylon choked softly, then pushed his head up and blinked innocently at Eddie. His eyes half-lidded from the daze he was in, mouth hung open slightly, with drying blood trailing all the way from his nose and lips to Eddie’s strong hands. It was far too much, and Eddie found himself unable to resist digging his fingers into his love’s neck. Waylon began to choke louder, trying desperately to gasp and wheeze as his hands began to seize up and clench themselves into fists, his legs trying to kick around despite being clearly unable to, he could feel the bruises forming where Eddie’s fingers connected to his delicate neck. His face turned red, as did Eddie’s, and his body went into a full-blown panic as he tried to push or kick or beg Eddie off of him, but he was met only with Eddie’s gentle smile and a burning feeling in his chest.

Eddie leaned forward, leaned right into Waylon’s ear, as close as he possibly could without placing his mouth on Waylon and whispered, “I want to make you beautiful.”

Finally, just as Waylon’s vision began to fade, Eddie’s hands released. Color rushed back into his vision and his lungs almost hurt more from the shock of returning air than they did when he was choking. He began to pant, struggling to get a normal amount of air down his gullet, eyes wide and unfocused. He heard, dully, the scrape of Eddie’s knife being picked up from the table. No, not picked up, dragged, like it was intentionally taunting him. His eyes shot to where Eddie stood, having taken a few steps back, and Waylon tried to push himself forward to no avail.

“Why,” Waylon groaned.

Eddie took a step forward and used the flat side of the blade to lift Waylon’s chin, bending forward to meet Waylon’s eyes. “It’s all because I love you, my dear.”

Waylon’s eyes drooped, mostly closed now, and he let his mouth hang open once again. He could feel Eddie’s warm, staggered breath on his face and he was sure Eddie could feel his as well. He let his eyes close fully and focused only on the warm air blowing in puffs against his soft skin. For a moment, even through the pain, Waylon was happy to feel Eddie so close to him, but only for a moment.

Waylon’s eyes shot open and he hissed a breath in through clenched teeth as Eddie removed the blade from Waylon’s chin and sliced along his left cheekbone. Hot blood pooled and dripped down his cheek, almost like gentle tears streaming down his face but Waylon wasn't crying. He didn't cry; he didn't flinch as Eddie shifted his knife from his right to his left, placing his now-empty hand over the cut. Sweet, sticky blood began to coat his fingers, and Waylon only grunted softly in the response.

"Is this beautiful enough for you?" Waylon croaked. His face was once again only mere inches from Eddie's, and he didn't try to push away. His cut stung where Eddie's fingers make contact, but it wasn't that bad.

"Oh, my pretty darling," Eddie leaned forward and pressed his head softly against Waylon's bleeding cheek, like an affectionate cat would do to their own beloved. "You've always been beautiful enough for me. This is all for you."

Waylon sucked air through his teeth again as Eddie nuzzled, getting warm delicate blood on his nose and right cheek. Waylon could feel the bumps and ridges of Eddie's scarring and somehow, he felt relieved to feel something so foreign yet so familiar. He tensed for less than second, resolving to relax and almost push back into Eddie's face comfortably. And yet, some part of him said that he shouldn't be here.

"Stop," Waylon mumbled. "You shouldn't be doing this."

Eddie hummed a low tune and pulled his face back, replacing it once more with his hand. "If you want to leave so bad, then go. I won't stop you."

Eddie swiped his index finger on the cut, collecting a small amount of blood then took two whole steps back away from the chair. He silently lifted his finger to his lips and pushed it into his mouth, his humming resuming when the taste of copper hit his tongue. He watched, bemused, as Waylon stared at him with a certain light in his eyes. Waylon did not even try to move. After all, he told himself, there was no point.

"Well, now, if you're through," Eddie broke the silence after nearly a minute.

Eddie moved the knife back into his right hand and placed it at the top of the slit he'd just made. He gave Waylon as smile, which Waylon almost certainly would have matched had it not been for the sudden pain of Eddie pushing the knife in slightly deeper than last time. This time, Waylon reacted more outwardly, groaning out loud and tensing up entirely as the blade slowly, slowly dragged diagonally along his cheekbone. It sliced his skin open even more, but even when he reached the base of Waylon's cheek bone he did not stop. Eddie pushed one finger into Waylon's mouth quickly, grabbing his upper lip with his thumb and index finger, and yanked the knife down. Waylon yelped like an injured dog as the blade ripped cleanly through his lip.

Eddie shifted his left hand to caress Waylon' face, his jaw. Eddie leaned forward, bending his knee and leaning it against the chair between Waylon's legs, and pushed his lips against the small man.

"Mmph," Waylon groaned, but didn't move his head back at all.

Waylon's breathing picked up. Eddie's lips were soft, softer than his rough hands, and the juxtaposition almost sent Waylon back into a daze. The scarring didn't reach down to Eddie's lips, so they were smooth and warm and pleasant to touch. Eddie held his mouth slightly open and accepted the blood into his mouth willingly. Waylon could feel the large man's breath begin to shake as his tongue lapped sweetly against the gash, collecting as much blood as he could from it. Waylon closed his eyes again and he pictured a new scene, a new world that became a temporary reality. He was free in his mind, yet Eddie still had his lips pushed against Waylon's. In Waylon's mind, his escapist fantasy, Eddie was kissing him; and in his mind, Waylon was kissing back. He felt strange drop, a heat, from his stomach. It was the same rushing feeling he'd gotten just as he sent the initial email, but it was more intense. The adrenaline was starting to kick in.

Just as that feeling overcame Waylon, Eddie moved away and made sure to stay in Waylon's line of sight as he visibly swallowed. His face was red again and his smile was so sickly sweet and loving; truly, like a groom witnessing his bride for the first time on their wedding day.

"I can tell you want more," Eddie purred.

Waylon huffed and panted. No, of course not, why would someone want more pain, more bruises, more cuts and wounds? Surely it couldn't be true… could it?

Eddie used the blade to cut Waylon's shirt and jumpsuit from the collar all the way down to his waist, fully exposing his chest and stomach. "Let me give you what you want, my love."

Waylon could feel the blade poking into his chest, not enough to break skin but it was sure announcing it presence. Some place in Waylon's brain spoke for him, "Aren't you… getting ahead of yourself…?"

"Is that so?" Eddie moved the knife quickly to the bottom of the cut he'd just made in Waylon's clothes. "You want me to drag it out for you, you little minx?"

Eddie used the knife to rip the fabric from Waylon's lower body as well, leaving his boxers intact but exposing Waylon's thighs and legs. Eddie let out a sigh and kneeled before Waylon, a low peasant before a king, and rested his still-bloody cheek against Waylon's knee. Waylon could feel the heat from Eddie's face well. Eddie placed the tip of the blade on Waylon's inner thigh, just above the knee and began to poke teasingly. Waylon had goosebumps from the cold, and could feel his entire body tensing delightfully at the anticipation for being cut again.

Finally, finally, after the longest moment, Eddie pushed the knife in. Waylon only groaned at first, but the deeper Eddie pushed the louder Waylon got. When the blade was in as far as Eddie thought Waylon could possibly handle, he used that great, terrible strength of his to drag the blade agonizingly slow up Waylon's beautiful thigh. The groan gradually turned into scream which in turn became a shriek as hot tears pooled and fell rapidly from Waylon's eyes. Eddie began to shake at the sound, pushing the knife deeper as he reached the top of Waylon's thigh. He frantically tossed the knife down on the floor and his fingers found their way pushing into the wound, prodding around and feeling whatever they could of the open wound Eddie had created.

Waylon was shaking, buzzing from the pain and adrenaline, his head was rolling along with his eyes and his shriek turned into a dull groaning sound. Eddie's fingers were touching places in his leg that he'd certainly never felt before, because how often would one ever feel their muscle being stroked and prodded? He knew Eddie was pulling the skin, opening the wound like he was unwrapping a sweet piece of candy, and Waylon threw his upper body against the back of the chair. His eyes lolled back in his head and he could feel Eddie trying to grab, from inside Waylon's leg. It was certainly a new sensation. It burned, it ached and hurt so intensely as Eddie pulled bits of tissue inside of Waylon, almost like he was trying to pull it out. Waylon shrieked again.

"I love your voice," Eddie cooed, as if any of this were normal and loving. In Eddie's mind, it was.

In Waylon's mind, it was.

"Please kill me," Waylon gasped.

"What was that?" Eddie angled his head, still resting on Waylon's knee, to look at Waylon's face.

"Kill me, Eddie," Waylon whined. "Make it slow but make it happen."

Eddie stood again and placed the knife just above Waylon's belly button. "I told you I'd give you what you want."

Pleased with Waylon's compliance, Eddie cut the ropes on Waylon's wrists, freeing his arms. Then, without another moment of hesitation, Eddie plunged the knife into Waylon's belly, careful not to push so deep that it would kill him too quickly. He didn't wait to bring his knife up, jaggedly and slowly slicing Waylon open from his stomach to his collar. Waylon moaned low once again, but this time it did not evolve into a scream. Eddie pushed the skin open, the blood draining quickly and pooling on the floor. Eddie frowned, then dug his knife in again.

"Let me see those gorgeous guts, darling," Eddie mused softly.

Waylon was making sounds that even he couldn't recognize. He was in so much pain but he couldn't get enough. More than anything, he wanted the pain to increase. He shook and writhed as Eddie exposed his innards, touching his guts and his organs as softly as he could to avoid damaging them. Waylon shakily moved one hand from where it lay and ran his fingers through Eddie's hair over and over, petting him like a purring cat.

"You're warm, my love," Eddie said.

"Eddie," Waylon sighed. "I love you."

"I know," Eddie replied. He pushed his hand into Waylon's belly, eliciting another shriek as he searched around. "I love you too, darling."

Waylon knew what was coming. He could do nothing to stop it, but he didn't want to. His heart pumped, loud and rapid and horrified as Eddie's arm extended in. It was his heart that Eddie was reaching for, and Waylon's head clouded with strange sensations, his throat filled with screaming, his eyes filled with tears, his heart filled with love.

And then, after only getting a single moment to enjoy Eddie's rough, firm hands squeeze it lovingly, Waylon's heart stopped.

#weddie #edway #waylon x eddie #eddie x waylon #eddie gluskin #waylon park #outlast #outlast whistleblower

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

One More Present

Wrapped Up With A Bow

Request: I was wondering if you could a part 2 to Wrapped Up With A Bow? I think a continuation of it would be interesting.

Pairing: Present Day Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Summery: It’s Boxing Day and you’re bored. Until you remember a little something Roger wanted on his birthday, that he never got the chance to do.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Daddy kink, maybe some light sugar daddy vibes, bondage (specifically hogtie), spanking, vibrator, orgasm denial/delay / ruined orgasm (kind of), oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, degradation, fingering, unprotected sex, but also praise and some aftercare stuff (cause ya’ll know i love my aftercare)

Words: 4124

A/N: Written for my 1000 Follower Celebration. My alternate summery for this was ‘Boxing Day? More like Bondage day!’. In my defence it is after midnight and my brain isn’t working at full capacity. Also I didn’t originally plan for this to be Christmas themed but I was looking for some Rog smut to write and tis the season for gift wrapping. Anyway, if present day Rog wanted to tie me up and degrade me i would be so very into that and these are the fics that prove it.

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @londononvinyl

While Christmas Day had been busy and chaotic and loud, Boxing Day was the complete opposite. The previous day Roger’s house had been full (not an easy feat since it was so large) with his children and their partners and some extra friends who’d had nowhere else to go thrown in as well. Plates were piled high with all the traditional fare as crackers popped and terrible jokes were half shouted across the tables that had been shoved end to end. The curtains over the kitchen window were almost set alight while someone tipsily set their Christmas pudding on fire. And even in the evening, when everyone was so full they could barely move, a raucous game of Cards Against Humanity broke out, sending everyone into fits of inappropriate laughter. But now everything was quiet. Everyone had left, either late on Christmas night or after breakfast the next morning, carrying containers of leftovers but leaving their torn paper crowns and residual wrapping. Roger had popped down to the shops, grumbling about having to leave the house and battle the crowds, because the last of the milk had been used to make pancakes, which left you lying on the couch to bask in the near silence of the empty house.

It was nice but it made you feel oddly restless. You got up and stretched and then looked around the room for something to do. You could go for a walk through the garden, although that would mean rugging up in coat and mittens and beanie since it was so cold outside. You could light the fire in the main living room and curl up in front of it with a book or perhaps a video game. Or maybe you should take the chance to have a relaxing bath, pull out a bathbomb and grab the remnants of a bottle of wine from the fridge downstairs and just relax. But none of those ideas really caught your attention. You wanted to do something. Life with Roger was usually somewhat chaotic, and now the calm felt too calm. Your eyes roamed over the room again and landed on a small ribbon, leftover from one of the presents that had been unwrapped yesterday. It gave you the idea you’d been looking for and you hurried up to Roger’s bedroom to change.

By the time Roger got home, still grumpy about having to leave in the first place, you were ready, waiting by the top of the staircase, peeking over the railing to watch for him. You heard the front door shut and caught a glimpse of his back as he turned to hang up his jacket and toe off his shoes. You scurried back towards the bedroom door, careful not to let him see you. “Y/N?” you heard him yell from the room you’d vacated minutes before. “Up here” you called back, waiting until you heard his footsteps heading your way before scurrying towards the bed and getting comfortable, curling up like a cat. “Milk’s in the fridge, but I also picked us up so-” he paused mid-sentence when he caught sight of you, eyes roaming over every inch of the ribbon you’d strategically tied around yourself. “Hi Daddy. Found one more present for you to unwrap.” “Haven’t seen that in a while,” he said, placing the box of chocolate liqueurs he’d just bought on top of the dresser, “not since my birthday,” “Thought Christmas was a special enough occasion to bring it out again,” you shrugged, “You gonna unwrap me now?” “And what would you have me do after that, love?” “Well,” you unfolded your legs and stood up, closing the distance between you and Roger, “anything you wanted, Daddy. But I seem to recall you wanting to hogtie me last time I had this ribbon on, and not getting the chance.” You walked your fingers up his chest as you spoke. He caught your wrist with one hand his other moving to your throat, squeezing lightly, “trust you to ask for something like that. Knew I’d found myself a proper whore the day I met you.” “Don’t think we can underestimate the influence you’ve had either,” He chuckled at that and let you go, his hand slipping from your throat to your cheek, “either way I’m very lucky.” “You’re ruining a perfectly lovely moment, you old sap.” “I just know how squirmy you get when I make you wait for something you really want. And I know you really want to be my pretty little fucktoy, all tied up and helpless,” his tone got more mocking with the last five words, as he dropped his hand, fingers sliding along the ribbon where it ran down your stomach. You whimpered at his shift in tone, almost melting on the spot, which just made him grin wider. “Alright, let’s get you set up. Think I’ll be needing this one though,” he tugged on the ends of the bow you’d tied over your chest, pulling it undone easily, and gathering it into his hands as it fell from your body, “don’t worry, slut, my knots will be a lot harder for you to get out of. Now turn around, hands behind your back, you know the drill.” “Yes Daddy,” you turned in front of him and clasped your hands together at your bum. He was gentle as he wrapped the ribbon around your wrist, pulling the ends through the loop. “That’s not too tight, is it Kitten?” “No, feels good,” “And you’re arms aren’t too strained?” “Nope,” “Good.” Once he was sure you were comfortable, he continued wrapping the rope around your wrists, first one way and then the other and then back again, making sure it was secure. He then got you to unclasp your hands so he could tie it off properly, leaving the ends dangling. “Okay give it a test for me,” You wriggled your wrists around, trying to slip them free or reach the knot to untie it, but it was no use. “Now your feet.” You felt a push on your back and started walking towards the bed, falling forwards when you reached it. Roger chucked as you awkwardly tried to crawl further up the bed but he gave you a hand, helping you turn your head to the side so you could breathe freely, and get positioned in the middle of the mattress. You brought your legs up, ankles together and waited. There were footsteps as Roger walked to the cupboard, and then more as he came back, placing your box of toys on the end of the bed, far enough away that you wouldn’t accidentally roll into it. You watched as he pulled out a few lengths of rope and then disappeared behind you once more. “Uh uh uh, ankles apart. Want your whore cunt on display so I can see how much you enjoy being used for Daddy’s entertainment.” “Yes Daddy,” a shiver ran through your body and you separated your ankles. “Better,” he pushed your legs a little further before he began tying them, wrapping the rope around you so your ankle and thigh were bound together, checking in each time to make sure they weren’t tight enough to cut off circulation or hurt in any other unwanted way. Finally you felt a tug on your legs as he used the last length of rope to bind them each to your wrists, winding the ends of the ribbon around them to get them out of the way.

When he was satisfied he took a step back to admire his work, “can you get out?” You made an attempt, trying to stretch your fingers far enough to reach any of the knots he’d made but it was useless, “No Daddy, I’m stuck.” “Just the way you wanted,” he suddenly brought his hand down on your arse making you gasp loudly. It was followed by another spank and then another, his other hand roaming over your side. “Wait, Daddy, I’m -,” you broke off in a squeal as he began tickling you. “Ticklish, I know.” It was an odd mix of sensations, one hand tickling you, the other dropping harsh spanks to your arse at unexpected times. It set you writhing around trying to escape or at least lessen the impact of each hit, but again you found it a pointless endeavor. You were panting by the time he was done with you, leaving a final few blows to your backside before he walked around to the front of your bed. “Now we know for sure that you won’t be breaking free anytime soon, no matter what I put you through. So what should I do with you? Completely at my mercy and I’m not even sure how I want to use you.” You lifted your head as much as possible, looking up at him through your lashes, “You could fuck me,” “This isn’t a conversation, slut, it’s a monologue. Think I should stuff that mouth though, shut you up for a while.” “Sorry, Daddy, I’ll be quiet,” “Yes you will be quiet, because you’ll be too busy choking on my cock to say anything.” A whimper escaped you and you shifted your hips, wishing you could press your thighs together. Roger reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out his keyring, jangling it in front of your face, “I’m going to put this in your hand, okay Kitten? If things get too much drop it and I’ll stop,” “Okay, sounds good,” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, a moment of gentleness that helped calm the tense excitement that had begun to build in your stomach and chest. You took a few deep breaths as he stripped off, the jangle of his belt making you squirm. “Ready Kitten?” he pumped his fist over his dick, looking down at you, “Christ, could easily just wank off over you and leave you begging to be touched.” “No, don’t Daddy, want your cock so bad.” He snorted, “don’t worry, I won’t. Not this time at least. But I don’t appreciate the tone. No please, no begging. Where’re your manners?” “Sor-” “Not looking for an apology. I want to hear you beg me to fuck your throat.” You gulped, able to feel wetness pooling between your legs, “please fuck my throat Daddy, please. I’m just a helpless slut who needs to learn how to behave. Teach me a lesson Daddy, fuck my throat, please.” “That’s much better. And since you asked so nicely,” he took hold of your upper arms from underneath and dragged you closer to the edge of the bed. Once he was sure you were steady and comfortably settled, he tapped the head of his cock against your lower lip. Instantly, you opened your mouth, letting him push himself inside. He gave you a few moments to adjust, softly stroking your hair as you sucked on his tip before he pulled back, let you take a breath, and then pushed back in a little deeper. Again he paused to let you adjust, his breath already coming harder than before as he pulled out once more. The first time you gagged he smiled and told you what a pretty sound it was, pushing a little further into your throat before pulling back to let your breath properly. You squeezed the keys in your hand as he finally sunk as far into your throat as he could, pressing your nose into his pubes. After that there was no chance of him holding back any longer, all restraint gone as he thrust into your throat again and again and again. You tried to keep up as best you could, your tongue sliding along his length as saliva dipped from the corners of your mouth and tears ran down your face. He pulled back, giving you the chance to cough and splutter as he hit your cheeks with his slick cock, only adding to the mess you’d become. “Th-at’s right slut, take it,” he growled, shoving his cock back into your throat as he leaned over and spanked you again. You let a moan slip at the impact, though it was mostly lost in a wet gag as Roger’s hips bucked into you. There was no escape, no room to think about trying. You lay there, choking and gaging, obediently taking everything he gave you, with only one solid though in your head, don’t drop the keys. As rough as he was being with you, as uncomfortable as the sensation was, as much as you wanted to at least have your hands free to give you jaw a break, you didn’t want it to be over yet. “Fuck, such a go-od w-whore for Daddy,” he groaned, “gonna – Jesus – gonna fuck my cum down your throat, make, make sure you swallow it,” You whined which only pushed Roger to use you harder, grunting with every thrust, your hair being pulled as it got caught in his tightening fist. He groaned, long and loud, as he came, his cock pulsing as he coated your throat, holding you in place until he was spent.

When he finally let you go you gasped for air, letting your head fall back to the mattress but Roger grabbed your hair, pulling your head up again. “What do you say?” “Thank you Daddy,” you panted. “Good girl,” he let you head go again, making sure you were facing the side before he leaned over and took the keys back, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as he did so, “don’t think you’ll need them anymore since you can talk now. But we’ll keep them close in case I get sick of your whining and decide to stuff your mouth with something else. Remind me what your safeword is,” “Lighthouse, Daddy,” “You okay to continue?” “Yes Daddy, please, I need more.” Roger ignored you and took the few steps around the bed until he was behind you again. You knew he’d seen how wet you were from the way he started laughing, “Jesus, Kitten. I knew you’d be into that, but I didn’t realise just how much.” You felt the mattress dip and he knelt behind you, giving the robes that bound your ankles to your wrists short tugs, as if to pull you closer. Once you were within easier reach he pressed his thumb to your soaked pussy, running it up and down your slit a couple of times. “Such a pretty cunt, just begging to be used. Almost makes me wish I hadn’t bothered finishing down your throat. Almost.” You whined as he brushed over your clit, quickly retreating back towards your entrance. He replaced his thumb with two fingers, slowly pushing them into you and holding them there. “Maybe I should invest in a fucking machine,” he began pumping his fingers into you at a steady pace, too slow and always angled away from the spots that he usually delighted in hitting, “Be easier on me. I could tie you up like this and let it pound you for an hour or two while I went about my day. Maybe you could cum from that alone, maybe you couldn’t. Probably take a bit of experimenting with it to find out. But by the time I stopped it you’d be all stretched out and ready for me to use. And we both know how much it turns you on to be overstimulated like that, so even if you did manage to squeeze out an orgasm or two, no big deal.” The whole time he talked his fingers were moving at that same steady pace, never enough. Your instinct was to lift your hips higher, try to change the angle he was hitting you, but the way you were tied made that impossible. “I could set the fucking machine up in you cunt while I took your arse. I know you get off fantasising about being a slut for two cocks, three even, but there’s no way I could share you with anyone. A machine though… think of the possibilities.” You involuntarily clenched down on his fingers, earning another deep chuckle from Roger. And then suddenly his fingers left you, empty and desperate to be filled again. He shuffled over to the box, and began digging though it once more, directly in your eyeline. Every so often he’d pull out a toy that caught his eye and ask your opinion on it. Eventually though he found what he was looking for – a purple ‘U’ shaped object, slightly bigger on one end than the other, and an accompanying remote control. Your breath hitched when you saw it and you couldn’t help trying to struggle free. “Aww, does Kitten not like this toy?” his tone was mocking which only made you squirm more. “It’s not the toy I have a problem with, Daddy, it’s how you use it.” Roger laughed, “think that just means I’ve not used it on you enough.” You gasped as you were suddenly pushed onto your side, your shoulders twinging with the unexpected shift. Roger moved back out of your line of sight, dragging the smaller end of the toy along your folds until it was slick enough to slide into you, the larger end resting against your clit. As soon as he was sure it was properly in place, he yanked you back onto your front.

You had maybe three seconds to adjust to the feeling of it pressed between you and the mattress before Roger grabbed the remote and turned it on. A light pulse that made you whine. “There you go Kitten, not so bad now is it?” “No Daddy,” you said, struggling to rock your hips against it. “Thank you can handle a little more,” the pulsing got faster and stronger, the whole mattress buzzing with the vibrations. A second later the part of the toy that was rubbing against your g-spot started vibrating too. “Y’know, I’m an old man, kitten. I don’t always understand new technology. You’ve seen me trying to set my DVR. But this is one piece of technology I’ve been very happy to learn about. I hear the new model works through an app on your phone. Think of how much fun,” he turned the vibrations higher still, “we could have with that. Much more subtle. You could wear it when we went out to dinner, or when I take you out and buy you all those pretty clothes. And I could control it and just look like I was playing on my phone, or sending a text.” You moaned as he suddenly changed the vibration again, the pattern switching to uneven pulses, first short and then long and then short again. You’d been close but the disruption pulled you away from the edge. Roger moved in front of you again, “how’s that Kitten? You wanna cum?” “Yes, please Daddy, plea- fuck!” The pattern changed again, a long powerful buzz you couldn’t escape from, pushing you over the edge almost instantly. You’d barely hit your high before he changed it again, the softer shorter pulses making it impossible to satisfactorily ride out your orgasm. “That’s not fair, Daddy,” “Shhhh, Kitten, not now, Daddy’s concentrating. Here why don’t you suck on these to keep quiet,” he tapped two of his fingers, the same two he’d had shoved inside your pussy moments before, against your lips and you obediently opened your mouth. For a while he left you like that, your moans muffled around his fingers as he constantly toyed with the controller, making you shake and writhe as you tried to escape or get more friction. A couple of times he let you fall over the edge, though the quick change in stimulation interrupted you enough to ruin the orgasm, which, combined with the edges he gave you, only served to make you more horny. “God I could do this all day, Kitten. Although playing with you has got me very hard again. Maybe I should just fuck your throat again. You’re such a pathetic cum slut I’m sure you’d be happy to swallow load after load,” As if to demonstrate he pushed his fingers towards your throat, making you gag. You were held there, suspended between his fingers in your throat and the relentless buzzing against your clit and in your cunt, each end of the toy set to a different pattern. And then it all stopped. The toy stilled, quiet, though you were still twitching. His fingers left your mouth, wiped dry on your cheek. “But maybe I’ll save that for another day,” he moved behind you once more, you whimpered as he removed the toy, “We could set you up like this in the living room or my study, so I could keep an eye on you, and still get my work done. But right now that drippy little cunt is begging me to fill it.”

You had half a second to catch your breath before he was sliding into you, pushing a long moan from your throat. He found his rhythm, laying a few spanks to your arse at random intervals so you could never prepare yourself for the next hit. “Shit, Kitten,” he grunted, “such a perfect whore,” the last two words were punctuated with spanks hard enough to make you cry out, your skin still stinging when he removed his hand. “P-p-p,” “Aww what’s the matter Kitten? Took fucked out to speak?” “Please,” it escaped you in a long whine that you didn’t mean to make. “Please what?” “Pl-please make me cummm,” “You will, but only when I decide you can.” Suddenly his rhythm changed, the pace picking up as he gripped you tighter, one hand on your hip, the other on the ribbon binding your wrists, pulling on it for leverage. He drilled into you relentlessly and all you could do was moan and beg for more. With one final harsh spank he dropped a hand to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Come on Kitten, let go. Wanna feel your pathetic cunt sq- shit- squeezing me. Good girl, that’s right.” Your legs shook as you finally came properly, Roger dragging it out for as long as he could, even as you whimpered with the rising sensitivity. He only stilled his movements when he hit his own climax, burying himself to the hilt and coating your walls.

As he caught his breath, he pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “gonna pull out now okay?” You held your breath as he did, a small wince escaping you. “You alright, love?” “Mmhmm,” you felt too shaky to speak properly but you knew he’d just ask you to use your words anyway so you cleared your throat and, as clearly as you could manage under the circumstances said, “yeah, fine. Can you untie me now?” “I am, love, going as fast as I can,” You could feel the ties loosening as he spoke but fought the urge to move and try to pull free the rest of the way yourself. First he undid the rope that connected your wrists and ankles, then each frogtie on your legs and finally the ribbon that held your wrists together. You suddenly felt very grateful the ribbon was so smooth and soft, only small marks left that would fade before the night was out. As soon as you felt your arms were free you felt you could breath easily again. You rolled onto your back and stretched out, legs straight, arms above your head. Roger stood and slipped his underwear back on as you sat up and rolled your shoulders, wrists and ankles. As soon as you were done though he was quick to hop under the covers and pull you in with him, snuggling as close to you as was physically possible. “How was that?” “Good. What I’d been looking for when I decided to dress up like that.” “I wasn’t too hard?” “You were perfect Rog,” you buried your head in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply, letting his familiar scent calm you completely. “Good. So were you. Couldn’t have asked for more.” You sighed contentedly at his praise, “How about you go make us a cuppa while I go to the loo, and then we can cuddle up in front of the fire with some left over pudding and maybe those chocolates you just bought, yeah?” Roger shuffled out of your grasp slightly, just far enough that he could lean down and kiss you. Your hand flew up to hold him against you, thumb rubbing softly over the hair that covered his jaw. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

#my writing #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #present day roger taylor #gonna try and get more of the leftover ik requests done before the end of the year #but theres a couple that will defs take longer to write #anyway this is pure filth i whipped up in about 24 hours #not much more i can say #1000 follower celebration

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bibliocratic · 5 years

Text

soft domestic jonmartin

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. Tone deadened to a loud mumble, and he's knocked something heavy over that sounds like the ironing board or the drying rack in his attempt to grab things that he always inconveniently shoves away right at the back. “You got your raincoat?”

“I won't need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It'll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

(And it will rain when they get off the train, a spatter of showers that they get caught in, and the coat will be in the suitcase, inaccessible. Martin won't say anything as Jon huddles against him as they share the single umbrella, but the smugness will be in the tone of his voice as he comments on the laden clouds – looks like it might be a proper downpour, Jon, shame the weather man didn't predict anything like this – and Jon will run his hands through his thinning hair already dripping into his face and weather this with the appropriate amount of mild chagrin, knowing Martin will take pity and relent momentarily, fuss over the damp and the cold and Jon's endless ability to catch whatever bug is going round, and bundle him into a cafe to dry off.)

“I'll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon sighs, but it is a long-worn gentle sound that did not expect to win this ground. He resumes his task, folding and rolling a weeks worth of their combined shirts, sweaters and trousers neatly and efficiently into their modest suitcase. He is very good at this, packing. Always has been good at finding room for things when he thought nothing else would fit. It brings him a self-satisfied pride, knowing each thing has its place, that there will be space for more.

(Martin will insist on buying a fridge magnet from the first tacky shop they see on the seafront, a few postcards to send to Basira, Daisy, Georgie and Melanie. Jon will find a way to sneak off as he always does and buy another souvenir spoon to add to his expansive collection, one for every place he's been with Martin, this one with a blue and silver crest adorning the top, and he'll play innocent when Martin comes across it cleaning a month later – I thought I told you I got another one / Jon, we don't have the room, you're going to have to start putting them in boxes up the loft / I will, fine, I will, tomorrow. )

Tucked subtly at the bottom of the case where Martin won't think to look, Jon's placed two smart dress shirts and matching ties. The dress shirt is the mint coloured one with the little embroidered flourishes on the collar tips, Martin's favourite, the one he always wears when he wants to impress; it's worn at the under-arms a little, the button right at the bottom lost somewhere and Jon knows Martin will look dashing in it. He'll need help with the tie because he always does but that's where Jon comes in. Martin doesn't know Jon's booked a table at a nice restaurant tomorrow, theatre tickets for the early evening, and Jon's giddy in his own way to reveal it like a bouquet of flowers from a magician's sleeve.

(Jon will touch the ring on Martin's right ring finger – with the tenderness of the joints in his hands, the way they sometimes swell in the cold, it's too small to be worn on the traditional place; but then again when has tradition ever really mattered – and Martin will call him soft, and Jon will know Martin is looking at him like that and Jon will not disagree).

“Socks?” he shouts out, wondering if Martin's left the closet yet or if he's found another umpteen things he's thought that they should bring. He has already argued Martin out of bringing an extra book (You won't have time to read it, it'll just take up room), walking boots (It's Dorset, Martin, not the Peak District), and his Polaroid camera (You're already bringing the digital one, and we've only got a few shots left, we should save them for Georgie's birthday party).

“I put them with the boxers. Next to the toaster.”

Jon huffs and moves away from the suitcase spread-eagle on the kitchen table to grab the messy, teetering pile of boxers and socks on the counter-top. He hums off-key and mindless as he brings them back to his workspace, refolding them to stuff them down the sides of the suitcase, smoothing over rucks and bumps, double checking on the ties stuffed into the spare pair of shoes Martin had won the argument for.

A flump in front of him and Martin is dropping things onto his carefully organised packing. Jon frowns, and touches at the wool. They're going to Bournemouth, he thinks with another internal eye-roll, not the Outer Hebrides.

“Really, we won't need all this.”

“Just in case.”

This is Martin's mantra. He's an 'everything-goes' sort of packer. There is a reason Jon is the one responsible for wielding an iron-fisted utilitarian hand over this aspect of the holiday.

Jon runs a hand over the fabric, bobbling in places, darned at the fraying edges of the sleeves. Well-loved and well-washed.

“Another jumper?” he says, ready to dismiss it with another lecture on saving space.

“It's to wear now. It'll be cool all morning, I checked. You'll be cold on the train.”

Jon concedes this battle as to his circulation like he does every time, and does as he's bid, shoving it over his head without complaint. Martin fixes his collar so it sticks out over the neckline, smooths down any hair that's been disrupted, making some comment about that barber down the road doing a nice job with the cut this time, before declaring with a cheeky smirk that 'he'll do'. Jon makes an affected moue, and cups his face, kisses his cheek, making a comment that he'll just have to try harder. These things are routine now. Beloved in their repetition.

“Have you got the tickets?” Martin asks. It's the third time he's checked, but Jon replies with steady patience.

“In the backpack, at the front.”

“Pills? There should be enough. I went to Boots to fill up your prescription this morning.”

“Same place. What about you? You have enough?”

“I've got enough for another week before I have to go back.”

“You taken yours for the journey?”

“I'll see how I go.”

“Martin,” Jon says. Not admonishing but with an echo of his old battle-axe charm he used to possess in his earlier days. “Come on.” He knows Martin won't have taken any, doesn't like to feel too dependent on them. But travelling is stressful at the best of times, never mind in London, what with the traffic and the noise and the people and the jostling, and the crowds can unsettle him.

Jon's pulling them out of his trouser pocket, a little packet still mostly full, and passing them over.

“They make my mouth dry,” Martin complains, but he goes and fills a glass of water from the tap and dutifully swallows one he pops out of the crackling foil.

“We can buy something nice to drink before we get onboard,” Jon promises, tucking the pills into the front pocket of the backpack next to Jon's.

“You spoil me,” Martin says dryly and Jon feels his face crinkle in a smile. He zips the suitcase shut and gives a little voila.

“Taxi should be here in ten,” he says. “Oh, remind me that we're going to need some more tea bags for when we get back.”

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“We're going to need more tea bags for when we get back.”

“Oh hahaha.”

Jon had made a checklist on his phone, mostly to appease Martin, and he hears him running down what's been noted as essential, muttering to himself to clarify – so we've got all the t-shirts, sandals for the beach, you've got the tickets and if not there's the email confirmation, checked the train line websites, all networks running as usual and on time.....

Jon puts his arms around Martin's back as he reads, letting his head rest against him. Martin's used his nice body wash this morning, sandalwood and citrus, the stuff he uses when he thinks the day's going to be a particularly good one. He's put on a little too much aftershave as usual.

“You should have a nap on the train,” he says, interrupting Martin's review. “Heard you moving around all night.”

“Just my leg giving me grief. I got a heat pack, it helped some. I'll be ok,” Martin hums in reply. Jon doesn't respond, but he is quietly confident in the knowledge that once they've found their seats, Martin will drop off like a cliff-edge, and Jon will get to listen to his audiobooks until he has to nudge him awake to say they're nearly there.

(Martin will fall asleep on him, head a solid weight on Jon's shoulder and not even out of London yet, and Jon will thread their hands together before he starts up his current Le Carre book, one headphone dangling out so he can both listen for the stops and to hear the staff with the drinks trolley in advance. Martin will wake up with a jolt and a snuffle and a 'wethereyetJon?' and Jon will say 'Only just passed Southampton' and press a mediocre, still cooling cup of tea into his hand.)

There's a chirp and a brush by Jon's trouser leg.

“Hello you,” he says to the Duchess.

You fed her?” he asks Martin.

There's a hopeful cry that implies that eons have passed since she was last given sustenance.

“She's been fed and she knows it.” Martin replies, sounding as though he is immune to the charms of their cat (he is not), and that he won't be tempted into giving her a few more treats before they leave (he will).

“I've given Tom house keys,” Martin says finally, checking that last one off the list. “He'll pop in tonight to feed her and change the litter tray, make sure no one robs us or anything.”

“All your books,” Jon replies without intonation. “How could they resist?”

Martin makes some snarky comment about how he hopes any hypothetical thief might help Jon slim down his spoon collection, and Jon snorts and gives his back a little headbutt to show he doesn't approve.

“We'll have to get him something to say thanks,” Martin continues, returning to their previous topic. “A stick of rock or something.”

“Hmm,” Jon says and doesn't move away from the heat of Martin's back, his arms still bracketing around Martin's stomach. He slept badly last night as well. Disturbed by Martin's restlessness and his own unforgiving dreams. Martin stands like a foundation stone before he turns around, the phone set next to the suitcase and fixes the situation to his liking, embracing Jon in a loose hug.

“You tired, love?”

“Hmm.”

“We can have a nap then, when we get to the hotel.”

“We aren't that old,” Jon grumbles, although his heart isn't really in it because honestly, a nap sounds great right about now.

Martin's hair, growing out on the long side now, scratches soft against Jon's face. It is still a vibrant carrot-top in Jon's head. He'll run his hands through springy curls still thick and knotted, or bestow sleep-slow kisses on it, and the recollection of that particular shade has never left him. Martin's hair hasn't been entirely ginger since the Watcher's Crown failed, to believe Martin, or Basira, who has always been entirely honest about the shipwrecks their life in the service of eldritch fear entities made of their youth, but Jon doesn't care. That's the memory he has, no matter how many laugh lines begin to grace and soften Martin's face, how often Martin wonders idly if he should dye his hair, get rid of the white. (He never will). Jon hasn't been able to see the mess of his own hair in a mirror for a long time now, but he doesn't need to know it's lost the war of attrition against the grey.

Two men who both look old before their time. Jon didn't even think they'd get this lucky.

There's a ping from Martin's phone.

“That'll be the taxi,” he says and grabs the suitcase, hefting it down off the table. “You got the tickets?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon says, a little exasperated, but mostly fond, ever ever so fond. (He will say it like this for the rest of his life).

Jon grabs his stick, folded up and pockets it. Bends down, scratches the cat behind the ears, double-taps his own pockets to check on the theatre tickets.

“Let's go on holiday,” Jon says.

#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #fic #jon collects souvenir spoons prove me wrong #post-watchers crown #let them be happy

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bcdrawsandwrites · 4 years

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Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo!

I AM NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS! The single-bone marks on the card indicate which prompts I have received and am going to write, and I finally have prompts that will earn me a bingo once they’ve been written. (But they’re not written yet!)

This fic has also been posted to FFN and AO3, so you can check it out on my Assortment of Broken Bones collection on there if you like!

This one was suggested by @defythemusic who ... is another person that Tumblr won’t let me mention in a post. I have no idea if you’re still around, but uh, here’s the fic you requested, like, a year ago! I decided to write this one taking place in the timeline as my longfic, since it fit pretty well.

Promt: Cry into Chest Characters: Héctor and Victoria, post-movie, post Neither Can You

---~~~---

1:37 A.M.

Héctor glared at the clock, its hands illuminated by the faint moonlight from his window, as though the device was solely responsible for waking him up, and not the painful nightmare he’d just experienced

Quite literally painful, as the phantom ache in his absent hand reminded him. He grit his teeth, rubbing his empty right wrist; his prosthetic hand was sitting on the nightstand.

Eventually the pain faded to more tolerable levels, and Héctor re-settled himself against the stack of pillows at his back. Even several weeks after the incident, he still had to sleep sitting upright as he waited for his ribs to heal. The doctor said he was healing well, but it sure didn’t feel like it, most days.

He found himself staring up at the ceiling, and, when that failed to lull him to sleep, turned to look out the window. (He always kept the curtains drawn these days; moonlight reminded him more of Shantytown, of being in his shack—which, while not terribly comfortable, felt safe at least. The pitch darkness of a house… not so much.) When this also failed to help him sleep, he gave it one last attempt, fought with his one hand to pull open the window a crack, and breathed in the fresh air.

And coughed at the smell of cigarette smoke.

Well, wonderful. Good to know some late-night smokers were taking their well-past-midnight walks by this house.

Growling, he yanked the window shut again and kicked off his sheets; he wasn’t catching any sleep, so there was no point in chasing it.

Héctor strapped his prosthetic hand onto his arm, pleased to see that it was getting easier to do so, and changed out of his nightclothes and into a new outfit. That settled, he limped out into the hall, careful to make as little noise as possible, and made his way down the stairs. Part of him realized it was probably not good for him to give in to insomnia like this, but… at the same time, he didn’t mind so much these days.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he frowned to see there was no light coming from the living room. Immediately he berated himself for even hoping Victoria would be up—he loved spending time with his granddaughter, but he wasn’t glad that she experienced insomnia, too. He was happy that she wasn’t dealing with it tonight.

Though she often did.

It was common to find her downstairs in the middle of the night, reading or sitting quietly with Dante. Whenever he found her like that, he would sit with her, writing in his notebook while she read. He’d learned that she preferred the quiet, and so never initiated conversation with her—he only spoke when she did. When he played by her rules, he found her to be a friendlier person than she initially seemed. Usually, anyway—though she had been warming up to him, there were times when… Well, it was a work in progress, just like it was with Imelda.

She was so much like her abuela.

A loud whimper brought Héctor out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Dante standing before him and looking antsy. Sighing, he stooped down to scratch the dog’s head and limped over to the door to let him out.

Only to jump back at the sight of Pepita, who was standing as close to the porch as she physically could, one wing stretched over the it, blocking it from view from the yard and street. The cat let out a rumbling purr, but that did nothing to change how strange the sight of her was… especially with the scent of cigarette smoke so pungent and close.

The thoughts ran through his head quickly: whoever was smoking was here, they were intruding on the property, and Pepita was poised to attack.

Panic surged through his marrow faster than his brain could catch up (with the logic that Pepita did not look threatening and would probably not purr near an intruder), and he stepped out the door, slamming it shut so he could see the rest of the porch and do… something.

But there was no intruder nearby; only Victoria, who looked just as tense as he felt, her fists clenched and ready to punch, her teeth grit around the cigarette in her mouth.

…Oh.

It took Héctor a moment to settle, tension slowly leaving his frame as Victoria did the same, bringing her hands down, though she kept one fist clenched. The other hand she reached up to her cigarette, taking it out of her mouth so she could blow out a ring of smoke.

“What?” she asked, and Héctor realized he’d been staring. “It’s not like it can kill me now.”

Héctor shook his head, sheepishly gripping his arm and pretending to be suddenly very interested in Pepita, though the realization that his granddaughter was out here smoking still shook him. He’d known she’d been a smoker in life, yes—Coco had told him as much—but he’d assumed she’d quit at some point. Apparently not.

Still, he’d never… seen her do it before. Stealing a glance back at her, he found her gaze turned upward, peering through the gaps between Pepita’s pinion feathers and at the sky above. She slowly exhaled a puff of smoke through her nasal cavity. He should have smelled it before, he realized—on her clothes or on her breath. But he’d never once noticed it.

“…Are you all right?” he offered. His voice was still scratchy from his injuries.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly. “It’s a nice night, and I thought I would step outside to enjoy it for a while.”

Before she even finished talking, a cold wind picked up, knocking a cloud of cigarette smoke off to the side, where Dante was now standing. The dog took one whiff of the air and gagged, bolting off with his tail between his legs.

Yes, surely a wonderful night. Héctor fought a shiver, hugging his chest carefully, but took a step closer. “Could I… stay out here with you a while?”

Victoria nodded, but kept silent.

He tried to watch her body language more closely. While she held her cigarette in her mouth, her hand moved to grip her wrist tightly. At first he thought she must simply be nervous, but… no, that wasn’t a nervous gesture. Her hand was gripping her wrist so hard that, had she been alive, she would probably be cutting off the circulation.

He then remembered a couple months ago, when he’d seen one of the bones from that wrist separated from the rest, and in the hands of a murderer.

Gritting his teeth, Héctor forced the memory out of his mind before he became lost in anger, and tried to focus on the present. “It is a nice night,” he said, and she glanced at him. “A little cold, admittedly.”

Victoria nodded, looking away, only to pause and look back, eyeing him in… concern? But why would—oh.

Recalling the terrible chill he’d suffered for nearly a week, he realized just what she would be worried about, and sighed, shaking his head. “I’m all right,” he said, leaning against the wall. “This is… nothing like that. Not even close.” It wasn’t an inescapable iciness, something that he barely fought against with many pillows, blankets, and a heating pad sitting in his rib cage. This was simply a chilly night, nothing more.

Victoria watched him carefully, as though to be sure he was telling the truth, before relaxing as well. Her cigarette was nearly burnt up now, and she breathed out one last stream of smoke before dropping the cigarette butt to the ground, stamping it quietly until it was extinguished and lost between the floorboards.

Héctor nearly pointed out that people would still be able to smell it in the morning, but bit his metaphorical tongue. She was already on edge; there was no need to push it. Though he did wonder briefly if she would get out another cigarette, but instead she remained still, her hand gripping her wrist tightly once again as she stared down at the porch where the cigarette butt had been.

Suddenly the shadows shifted around them, and they both gave a start, but it was only Pepita furling her wing to her side again. The big cat leaned over to lick her wing, and Héctor briefly wondered how long she’d been shielding Victoria like that, and for what reason. He could ask… but another glance at Victoria told him he shouldn’t.

“Should we… head back in?” he asked, attempting a smile. It was late, and cold, and sitting on the couch in a warm building sounded wonderful.

Victoria did not reply, instead staring down at the floor off to the side, her arms crossed tightly, still gripping her bad wrist. Dante climbed up onto the porch again, but she did not acknowledge him.

Sighing, Héctor leaned against the wall again. If there was some trick to making her talk, he didn’t know what it was, so he kept silent. When she still said nothing a few minutes later, he turned toward the door. “I’m heading in—”

“Wait.”

He paused, looking back at her, but she still wouldn’t look at him. If it were possible, she seemed even more tense than before. “¿Sí?”

Again she was silent, and Héctor fidgeted, rubbing his own arm.

“What is it, m—Victoria?”

Still she didn’t answer.

Héctor took a few steps closer, but said nothing more this time. As much as he disliked standing out here in the cold, he would wait. If she had something she needed to say, then he would listen.

On the other side of the porch, Dante approached Victoria, nudging her side and whining. Finally she moved, reaching down to pet the dog’s head… and finally she spoke, her voice tight:

“What you went through was worse.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and Héctor’s heart plummeted. “Victoria, no.”

“Don’t try to deny it. I wasn’t the one who had their bones methodically broken and torn and stolen until they couldn’t walk or speak or—” Her voice hitched, and she went silent.

Limping closer to her, Héctor reached out to touch her shoulder, but managed to hold himself back. “That doesn’t mean you went through nothing.”

“It does, compared to you.”

“That’s not how it works,” he said, and swallowed back the tightness in his throat. He wanted to turn her around, or to limp around to her side so he could see her, to look her in the eyes and tell her that she was allowed to be upset… but that wasn’t the way to approach it with her.

Héctor thought back, pressing his knuckles against his forehead as he racked his brain, then perked up. “…You know,” he began, leaning casually against one of the wooden pillars supporting the roof above the porch. “I had an amigo, Tomas, back in Shantytown who didn’t like talking much.”

While Victoria didn’t answer, her head turned slightly in his direction.

“Usually sat in a corner away from everyone else, and just listened to conversations. We’d try to get him to join in, but he’d just grin and wave us off.” He imitated the gesture, though Victoria didn’t see it. “Never really understood why he was like that… well… not until he told me.” Tipping his head back, he stared up at the sky. “Was… ehhh… ‘42, I think, night after Dia de Muertos, and I didn’t feel like sleeping, so I stayed out late. Everyone else had gone back home, except for him. He kept me company. And… then he spoke.”

“What did he say?”

Héctor brightened, turning to find that she was finally looking at him. “Well, first, he scared me bad enough to make me fall off my stool.” (While she didn’t crack a smile, he saw one of her brow-bones quirk, and he counted it as a victory.) “Once I pulled myself together… he said he wanted to tell me some things. At first I asked him why, but then…” His smile fell at the memory. “I… realized his bones were, um… well.”

“He was being forgotten,” Victoria finished for him, and he nodded slowly.

“He hadn’t begun shimmering yet, but yes.” He heaved a sigh, trying to focus, though his voice was starting to get sore from talking so much. “He told me his story, though he, eh, left some things vague. Near the end of his life, he was captured by a group of men who interrogated him—tried to get information out of him. Apparently it was important information—they held him for days and days, but he wouldn’t tell them. Spent his time instead yelling at them. I guess… they got so fed up with him, that they cut his tongue out.”

For a moment he glanced back at Victoria, hoping that he hadn’t lost her in the gruesomeness of the account, but instead she was staring down at the floor, thinking.

“Couldn’t talk for the rest of his life… When he died, he could, but he… couldn’t bring himself to do it often, after what happened in life. There was always something in him… afraid someone was gonna try to shut him up again if he talked too much.” Héctor shrugged, then paused to rub his neck, careful to avoid the still-healing gouges in his vertebrae. “So that was his story. After he told me, I felt… dumb, for being sad about the things I was. All of us in the shanties were nearly-forgotten, but… at least I could still talk and sing. He had it worse. I… told him as much.”

Victoria looked up, eyeing him.

“And… he told me something that stuck. He told me… everyone’s had it worse than someone. Doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to be sad.”

And Victoria turned away suddenly, letting out a shaking breath. “…Do you think that’s true?” she asked, her voice once again tight.

“Sí, I don’t think Tomas is the kind to lie. But… then, he never talked much, so I’m not sure—”

“Not that,” she snapped.

“…Oh.” Héctor finally stepped away from the pillar. “Of course, Victoria.”

After a tense moment, she heaved a sigh, and spoke with a shaking voice: “If you must know… I… I dreamed they came back.”

She didn’t have to specify who they were. Héctor clenched his fists at the memory.

“They broke into the house… and took me, and tried to break my arm.” Her hand was grasping said arm again, so tightly that Héctor almost worried she would break it herself. “I woke up, and rushed out here.” She shook her head. “It shouldn’t be like this—this shouldn’t still be bothering me. It wasn’t even that terrible.”

“It was,” Héctor said lowly, surprised at his own anger. “Those cabróns—they shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” The anger burned within his ribs, but he swallowed it down, shaking his entire body—that wasn’t what this was about. “Victoria,” he went on, calmer now, “it was terrible. I… have nightmares about it, too.”

“But it wasn’t—”

“Victoria,” he said, not unkindly. When she looked up, he held out his good arm, just as he had the night he’d lost his hand.

She looked at his outstretched arm, and, hesitating only a moment, finally stepped closer, allowing him to wrap his arm around her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, slowly drawing his other arm around her, careful that the prosthetic didn’t snag on anything. “They can’t get to us anymore. They can’t hurt us. It’s okay.”

He wasn’t sure what did it, but either something in his words, voice, or gesture must have gotten through to her, because she sank down, her face buried against his chest, her shoulders shaking. At the same time, Héctor felt a rush of terrible emotions surging through him—anger at those men for even daring to go after his granddaughter, and agonized sorrow over what she had gone through and the aftermath she was now dealing with. Before he knew it, he realized she wasn’t the only one shedding tears.

For some time he held her as the two of them cried, eventually becoming aware of Dante leaning against the two of them and whining, and Pepita purring her heart out once more. Finally they stepped away from each other, Victoria pushing up her glasses to rub the heel of her hand into her eyesockets. For someone who had just been crying, she hid it well. While she still didn’t look her best, the tension was gone from her frame. “It… really is too cold to be standing out here,” she admitted.

Héctor scrubbed away at his own tears and smiled at her. “Let’s go in,” he said, and together they walked back into the house, Héctor pausing for a moment to scratch Pepita’s head, and allowing Dante in with them.

Evidently neither of them felt like sleeping just yet, because they both found themselves heading over to the living room to take a seat on the couch. Dante eagerly hopped up between them, stretching out so that his head was on Victoria’s lap, and his legs were kicking into Héctor. He frowned at the dog, but couldn’t be too mad at him, since he seemed to be cheering Victoria up a little.

Victoria had retrieved her book from the small table beside the couch and held it open with one hand, while she kept the other on Dante’s head to scratch him behind the ears. Héctor watched this for a short while before getting out his notebook to attempt writing.

“Gracias for listening to me, abuelo.”

Initially Héctor merely nodded and smiled, only to give a start, staring at Victoria in shock. But she was still reading her book… with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

Trying to hold back a sniffle and failing, Héctor pretended to be very interested in his notebook. “D-de nada… mija.”

He flinched, expecting an angry retort from his granddaughter to not refer to her as such, but Victoria merely kept reading.

Wiping again at the tears in his eyesockets—happy tears this time—Héctor smiled.

This absolutely made up for the insomnia.

#hector rivera #victoria rivera #coco #pixar coco #bad things happen bingo #coco spoilers #rivera family #pepita #dante #fanfic #my writing #Yaaaay only four fics left!

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