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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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Love and Sacrifice (Prologue & Part One)

Sorry, Tumblr peeps, but you’ve probably read most of this already, but I felt bad posting it to FF.net and Ao3 without sharing it with you in order. so here be the Prologue and Part One.

Title: Love and Sacrifice

Prologue: Made for Heavy Lifting

Warm Rain Series

Author: Gumnut

3 Oct – Nov 2018

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: When she is worth everything.

Word count: 2285

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo

Timeline: After ‘Sharing the Scenery’ and the events of ‘Road Rash’.

Author’s note: And here is finally the story of the scar Virgil has on his back mentioned in the first fic of this series and so uproarishly demanded by you wonderful people. I hope it meets expectations. Also, pieces of this fic have been posted all over the place in the last couple of months as I have been slowly piecing it all together, so apologies if you have read some of it before or it seems familiar as I’ve re-written sections. Also, the prologue is one of the Warm Rain shorts, so you will have read that, but please bear with me.

Author’s note: Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Prologue: Made for Heavy Lifting

Author’s note: This was a single fic once, asked for by @diamondinshadow in response to some lovely artwork by @photowizard17 - My muse being what it is, wandered off a little weirdly, and at 3am, no less, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway :D Thank you all for your kind and wonderful support of my scribblings ::hugs::

Virgil Tracy was made for heavy lifting.

He had been known to say it on occasion and he had certainly proved it on many others. Hell, she’d heard Gordon say his brother was built like a ‘brick shithouse’, but that was Gordon, and Gordon had issues.

Regardless of external opinion, Virgil was the physical powerhouse of International Rescue, both physically and mentally. It was a known fact.

But it had never been displayed so blatantly to Kayo until this moment.

She was dressed in loose sweats, standing in the doorway of the gym. Virgil was at the weights on the far side of the room and literally pounding through his routine.

Now this was nothing new. The man hadn’t gained his physique from painting or playing the piano. There was a certain amount of training that needed to be maintained to keep his muscular tone for when it was needed out in the field.

But he didn’t usually leave his shirt off.

Pumping his standard barbel, feet spread firmly, earphones in, a thin sheen of sweat…

Kayo blinked. She was being ridiculous. He was obviously shirtless because of the healing injury on his back. But…

“Enjoying the scenery?”

Kayo startled. Grandma Tracy was standing right next to her – illustrating exactly how distracted she was.

Surprise immediately turned to mortification.

“Grandma?” Was her voice a little higher than usual?

A hand landed on her shoulder. “Honey, any hot-blooded woman walking past would be distracted by that.” She waved a hand in the direction of her grandson.

Kayo simply stared at her grandmother.

“What? I was a girl once, too, you know. The grey hairs are only for the respect.”

Grandma looked up at her, catching her eyes and holding them for a moment. Quietly. “So, have you worked it out yet?”

A frown. “I’m sorry?”

Grandma smiled just slightly before drawing her away from the door and out of the sight of Virgil, should he look up. “Kayo, honey, you’ve been staring at him for weeks now. Virgil is a good man. You couldn’t do better.” She leant in. “Ask him.”

“Ask him what?” She played it innocent, but there was a voice in the back of her mind laughing at her.

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “You want to play it that way?”

Kayo sighed, admitting defeat, her shoulders slumped just that fraction. “He’s my brother, Grandma.”

“Not really.” A hand on her arm. “He’s worth the risk, honey.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Grandma kissed her on the cheek and patted her on the arm. “Think about it. He’ll still love you either way.” A sparkle in her eye. “And I’m here if you need me. Us girls need to stick together on this island.”

That brought a smile to Kayo’s face. Quietly. “Yes, we do.”

“Now go in there and kick his ass off those weights. The man is obsessed with getting back into the air and he’s going to break himself if we’re not careful.”

An alarmed frown. “How long has he been at it this time?”

“Oh, since about 9am.”

It was nearly lunchtime.

“Excuse me, Grandma.” She was going to kick his ass alright. How many times did she have to tell him. Why were men such blockheads when it came to recovery?

She stormed into the gym. “Virgil!”

The barbel hit the floor with a resounding thud.

-o-o-o-

Sally held back a laugh. Kayo’s voice was bouncing all over the gym, her ire at him risking his recovery only matched by his stumbling and guilty replies.

Virgil didn’t have a hope with that girl.

Shaking her head, she made her way back into the main part of the house. Entering the comms room, she wasn’t surprised to find her eldest grandson sitting at his father’s desk working through reports.

Kayo’s angry voice suddenly echoed across the building, followed by Virgil emitting a not-quite-squawk.

Scott winced. “She caught him, huh?”

Sally smirked. “Let’s just say, I set aim and fired.”

“If he doesn’t stop this, I’m going to have to threaten to ground him for even longer.”

“Hon, leave it to Kayo.” Another smirk. “I doubt he will be doing that again.”

Scott winced. “You are a cruel and evil woman, Grandma.”

A shrug. “Well, he wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t listen to you. Time for the big guns.” She studied her eldest for a moment. “Fifty bucks says she asks him out before he does.”

She held back another smile as Scott startled. “Grandma?!”

Really? Were all men blind or did they prefer to live in denial?

“I know it. You know it. Those two have been eyeing each other for weeks now.” An arched eyebrow. “Your thoughts?”

He eyed her, his lips thinning, but curling into a smirk. Blue sparkled. “I think, Grandma, that you are on.”

-o-o-o-

Part One.

“Virgil!”

That voice, that sharp, crap, what the hell had he done?

He dropped the barbel, narrowly missing his feet.

It wasn’t out of guilt. No, it wasn’t.

Yes, it was.

Kayo was charging towards him across the gym. The glare on her face was enough to strip off a layer of skin.

Shirtless, goose-pimples radiated out across his chest, sweat cooling now he had stopped moving. His diaphragm was still heaving from his exertions, the exercise setting his blood running high

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

Momentarily stuck on the decision of whether speaking or not speaking would be the less death-causing option, he didn’t respond fast enough and defaulted to the latter.

“Do you have any idea what it was like to watch you tumble from that train?”

His eyes widened. Again his speech function failed to boot. God, her eyes were gorgeous.

“You were lucky you weren’t killed! Your brother and I had to pick you off the road. I thought…” She swallowed. “Why are you pushing so hard? Do you want to relapse? Do you want to put us through more worry and pain?”

“Uh.”

She stalked up into his personal space and shoved a finger into the middle of his chest. “Virgil Tracy, you do not have the right!” Her fingernail was sharp and he yelped, staggering backwards.

“Kayo-“

“Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you?”

Virgil froze. Kayo didn’t…

She glared up at him and he was shocked to see her eyes glistening in the overhead fluorescents. God.

“I’m-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” It came from deep in her throat. The passion in her eyes screamed at him.

She was so close. So angry.

So beautiful.

He leant in and captured her lips with his own. The moment froze as she startled, her hands flying up to his shoulders.

But she didn’t push him away.

Their kiss deepened. Her tongue brushed against his lips, parting them.

And she was in his arms. God, so beautiful.

Time hung. And then it restarted again as she gently pulled away.

Staring up at him.

He found his voice, tight and throaty. “Kayo?”

Quietly. “Virgil. Stop overdoing it.” And she stepped back, her eyes trailing up and down his perspiring body. She swallowed, her stance more uncertain than he had ever seen her. Her eyes caught his once more.

And she turned and left, stalking around the gym equipment, bee-lining for the door.

The room fell quiet.

Sweat dried on his skin and he shivered.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t see her after that.

He was left wondering if he had permanently damaged their relationship, if he had ruined what little chance he had.

Part of him desperately wanted to see her, to touch her again. The rest of him was terrified what would happen if he did.

Caught in limbo.

And she left.

Without saying goodbye.

He discovered it by accident, walking through the comms room. Scott had been talking to Gordon about a possible rescue in the Philippines. He mentioned Kayo would be unavailable.

Virgil froze.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Scott looked tired and worried.

“About Kayo.”

“Oh, she was called out on a mission by the GDF. Left this morning.”

“Where?” He could be curious, couldn’t he?

“Indonesia. Apparently, some terrorists have holed up on one of the smaller islands. Colonel Casey thought Kayo had some expertise that could help.”

“Oh.”

Scott frowned. “Virg, you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His brother’s frown didn’t fade. “How’s the back?”

“Fine.”

“The knee?”

“Fine.”

Scott’s lips thinned and Gordon snorted. “Way to go on the info sharing there, bro.”

Virgil sighed. “I am fine. Quit bugging me.” And he left the room.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared after his brother. Virgil’s mood had been fragile since Kayo had cornered him two days ago. He wondered exactly what had happened between the two of them. It was very unlike Virgil to be so unpredictable in reaction. Usually calm and steadfast, his brother was now snappy and keeping to himself more often than not.

But Virgil, being Virgil, it would surface at some point. Scott just needed to make sure he was at the right place at the right time to be there for his brother.

So, he let it go.

Two more days passed and his brother kept quiet, only sniping when prodded. Alan was avoiding Virgil like he always did on the rare occasion the bigger man went bear. Gordon being Gordon manifested his concern by poking that bear, trying to find out what was wrong. This usually resulted in said bear snarling and leaving the room.

John was safe 23,000 kilometres away and knew it.

And that left Scott, scrambling for strategies to corner his brother and find out why he was hurting.

After all a snarling Virgil was a rarity and it usually meant something was seriously wrong.

But he didn’t get the chance. Halfway through the third day, he found Virgil sitting in the comms room with his sketch pad. It was clear the man was having little success in his endeavours, as screwed up paper lay everywhere. Scott approached his brother, but was interrupted by John flaring into existence in the middle of the room.

“Guys, we have a situation.”

Scott sighed. “Go ahead, Thunderbird Five.”

“I have intercepted a transmission to the GDF. It appears to be a combination of a threat and a ransom demand.”

“What?”

John looked almost frightened, an expression so unfamiliar on his calm brother’s face to be terrifying. “It’s Kayo. She’s been captured.”

There was the clatter of a sketchbook falling to the floor.

Scott’s throat was suddenly tight. “Explain, Thunderbird Five.” Keep it professional.

The space monitor’s eyes were darting between those of his eldest brothers. “Sorry, guys, this isn’t pleasant.” And the display switched to the recording.

It was Kayo, out of uniform, bound to a chair, her face sporting bruises. A male voice was spouting demands in another language. A translation was appearing at the bottom of the display, no doubt John at work, something about money, freedom and the threat from the GDF.

Scott only had eyes for the anger in his sister’s. Their green, despite one of them being almost swollen shut, screamed fury and vengeance.

The recording waffled on some more about the evil of the GDF. Then a fist flew into the view and hit his sister.

Scott flinched. There was a muffled something to his right, and the recording was yelling. Kayo spat blood at the camera, a drop or two landing on the lens. The holographic spatter hovered in the air in front of them.

“Deliver or she dies.”

And it cut off.

The room was suddenly silent.

A sharp retort echoed as a pencil snapped in two.

Scott flinched.

As John reappeared, Scott wanted answers. “Do you have her location?”

His brother was troubled. “Not yet, but I will. Eos is trawling the network. Thunderbird Shadow is still at the base in Jakarta. She must have taken alternative transport. She is not wearing her uniform so I have no signal from that. The fact that I cannot locate her wrist comm or her locator has me concerned. I suspect her captors know more than they are letting on. I will let you know more as we find out.” John hesitated, his eyes once again bouncing between both of his older brothers. “I’m sorry.”

And he cut transmission.

Scott swallowed his fury. The harsh breathing to his right told him that this time, he had to be the calm one.

A breath and he turned to face Virgil.

His brother was pale and his body was almost vibrating with the fear and the anger in his eyes. The broken pencil lay discarded at his feet.

“Virg?”

The younger man flinched, his eyes going wide for just a moment before the more familiar calm settled over his features. It settled cold, control hiding the emotions no doubt roiling below the surface. It was almost chilling to watch.

Brown eyes, usually warm with affection, turned on him as cold as tundra. A rasp. “What are we going to do?”

Scott’s lips thinned. “We need further information. We need to give John and Eos the time to locate her.”

“Time.” It was a snarl. “They’re hurting her, Scott.”

Quietly, with his hands held up as if to calm a storm. “I know. John is doing his best. The GDF-“

“The GDF! You have got to be kidding!”

“Virgil-“

His brother threw up his hands. “I can’t...” And he was shaking his head. “Just...” Emotion boiled and Virgil turned away. “I’ll be in the hanger. Keep me apprised.”

Heavy boots hurried from the room, and Scott was left staring at where his brother had been.

The broken pencil screamed at him.

-o-o-o-

Part Two

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbird fanfiction #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #warm rain

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corvid-knight · 6 years

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Demon Eyes - chapter 6

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31757775

tw for violence/abuse in the first half of this chapter

This is a dream.

You know that.

You're aware that you're not really kissing her, her hands aren't on your waist and yours aren't on her shoulders. She's not giggling at you because your shades just smashed awkwardly into her round glasses and you're not trying to keep down a grin because it'll mess up the kiss. You're not really twelve years old, testing out a new experience with a friend just because you can and she wants to as much as you do.

It still feels real enough to be pleasant, even if you're one hundred percent aware that you're just reliving it through a dream; this one's more vivid, more real, than this kind of thing should be. You can feel her shaking with pent-up laughter—this isn't her first kiss even if it is yours; she knows that you don't have a fucking clue what you're doing—taste bruised mint in her mouth. It's good. It feels real, and it doesn't feel real at all, but it feels amazing.

This is a good dream, you think hazily, still caught up in the happening-right-now memory of soft lips on yours.

Then the door behind you slams open, and before you can even pull back from her, Bro's hand winds into the back of your shirt and jerks you back from her. Just like the kissing seemed real, so does the burn of your shirt getting yanked up around your neck, not quite strangling you.

Yet.

He doesn't say a word, and when you try to say something—anything that'll mollify him at least a little—he twists his hand up in your collar, tightening it around your throat. His other hand grips a handful of your hair, pulling you mostly to your feet so he can fucking drag you out.

Shit. Shit. It's going to be bad. It's going to be so bad. You know that and you don't question why you know it; at some point, you forgot that this is a dream. As far as you're concerned, it's real right now.

"Bro—"

"Shut it," he growls quietly, letting go of your hair for just a second to shut the door behind himself. You can't stop yourself from gasping in relief, then whimpering again when his hand comes back up to get ahold of your hair again. "The fuck did you think you were doing?"

He lets go of your shirt as he asks the question, spinning you around and shoving you up against the wall. There's tears that you don't dare let fall in your eyes, both from him strangling you with your shirt and the fact that he's yanking you around by the hair. You're sure that you'll find blood at the white roots later, with how hard he's pulling.

"I didn't—"

His forearm slams down on your throat and cuts off every bit of air. You don't dare struggle against him, but you can't breathe. "Like hell you didn't! You know I'm not fuckin' blind, lil' man—you calling me an idiot?"

He eases up enough for you to speak. "No—Bro—"

But that's as far as he lets you get. Yes, he moves and his arm's abruptly not on your throat, but since he slams his fist into your diaphragm hard enough to make you cough and retch at the sick pain anyway, it's not a good tradeoff. "What, then? You sayin' you weren't making out with her? Is that what you're saying?"

Two more blows, one for emphasis and one at the end of the sentence. You can taste blood, but you know that it's just from where you bit your tongue.

"I'm sorry—"

He hits you again for that, an openhanded slap across your face that leaves you seeing stars. It hurts a little less than the punches to your stomach. "Fuck your sorry. What are you?"

"I—I—" I don't know what you want! That's what you want to tell him. His arm presses against your windpipe before you can say anything.

"You're a fucking hunter." His face is only a few inches from yours and his shades are crooked; you can see the gleam of amber eyes as he snarls out the words. "That shit's nothing but a distraction for you, do you hear me, Dave? You're a hunter—you stay away from girls, you stay away from guys, you stay away from everyone but me, do you hear me?" This time he yanks upward on your hair for emphasis, and you try to yelp despite the pressure on your throat. That just makes him bear down harder, cutting off even the little bit of air you were managing to get. "Disobey me again and you'll wish you'd never been born, lil' man, are we fuckin' clear here?"

He finally lets up enough for you to gasp and cough and force out a shaky, "Y-yes, Bro."

For whatever reason, that answer makes his brow furrow, and you know, you know that you fucked this up worse than it already was, he isn't done, he's going to—

Enough. Enough, Dave.

It's a thought, and you're not the one thinking it.

Yeah. Exactly. Wake up. Open your eyes and look at me.

Your eyes are open. You're staring at Bro.

Wait.

You close your eyes. This is a dream, you think. And then you open your eyes, your actual eyes, the ones attached to your body instead of being a fucking construct of your fucked-up mind, and see a demon blinking slowly at you.

"Hey," Karkat says. One of his arms is wrapped around your shoulders, his hand rubbing lazy patterns into your back; the other's tangled in your hair, petting you like some kind of fucking cat. "That was a fucking awful dream."

"...yeah." Holy shit. You've got your arms wrapped around Karkat, lying on his chest like he's some kind of amazing living mattress, one leg hooked around his. You've never been this close to someone, not even Bro on the bad nights. His pulse beats through every contact you have with him, and it's making you dizzy. Well, something's making you dizzy.

I should get up, you think, but you've never been less sure of something in your life.

"You should stay right where you are," Karkat mumbles, letting his head fall back. "Unless you can come up with an actual fucking reason to move..."

"Can't think of anything." You drop your face onto his chest and breathe in, trying for a little more calm and somehow finding it despite the thoughts chasing each other through your head. The reason is that Bro would kill me for this...

"I believe that, unfortunately," he mumbles. You can feel his desire to tighten his grip on you, pull you further into his sphere of protection. If he does that, you willpanic and pull away, and he must know that, because what he actually does is huff out a sigh and keep finger-combing your hair. "How many times did he do that to you?"

"Just once, for that..." I should shut up. Instead, you roll your head towards his hand and keep talking. "He had...a lot of lessons like that for me. Didn't usually have to go over them more than once; couple cracked ribs're a really fucking good motivator to not make him wanna give me a refresher course."

"Fuck, Dave."

"Yeah. The kissing, it was—it was nice, but it wasn't worth that shit." Plus it was only about a year after that that he took off and left with me. Didn't have anybody to try anything with, after that.

"I'm sorry."

"Wish you weren't." Your mouth's on autopilot. Somehow you can't muster up enough energy to give a shit. If you're looking for answers about me, I guess you're gonna get them.

(Karkat heard that. You know he did; you saw his head tilt as he listened in.)

"Why?" is all he asks.

"Why?"

"Why do you wish I wasn't sorry?"

"It's not—you shouldn't—" The words tangle in your mouth, and you shake your head—not enough to dislodge his hand—and think at him instead. It'd be better if you didn't know. Can't be sorry for me if you don't know about that shit..

"I can't try to help you think around it instead of straight through it if I don't know about it, either." He shifts, the arm that was wrapped around you moving to prop his head up so he can look at you without having to strain so much.

For a moment you stay how you are, with your face against his chest, feeling his pulse even through his shirt. Then, when it becomes obvious that he's not going to say anything else until you look at him, you sigh and raise your head, folding one arm under your chin for support. "And you think you want to help me why,exactly?"

Karkat makes a sound deep in his chest, a soft vibration that's somewhere between a hum and a growl and feels different from either. "You put that like I don't really want to help you."

"Do you?" Fuck. Putting it like that makes it sound like I don't trust him. And you do trust him, or at least you trust him more than you can trust anyone else. Which is stupid, you've known him for three fucking days and he's a goddamn demon—

"Fuck yes I want to help you." Karkat's hand moves from your hair to the side of your face, fingers slowly brushing down from your temple to your cheek. "You asked me to, remember?"

Yeah. Almost forgot I owe you for that, too.

"Yesterday takes some of the debt away, though." He blinks, and you can't help but smile as that makes the patterns in his eyes break apart and reform, giving you a whole new microcosm to get lost in. "I got myself into a situation—not that I could fucking help it—and you did a fucking amazing job of getting us both clear of it, even if you were scared out of your mind."

"Was not," you protest reflexively, and the fact that he snorts out a chuckle surprises you.

"Yeah you were. I could feel it. I thought I was going to have to try to wake up, that's how bad it was." You can feel him shrug. "I don't fucking know if I couldhave woken up, but you were...really fucking scared."

"Shit." You shake your head—this time Karkat's hand does slip away, and you want to curse yourself—and look down, away from his face. "Sorry."

"Why?" He puts his hand under your chin—too close to my throat, you think, and at the same moment think, there's no way he'll hurt me—gently pulling you back up to meet his eyes. "Because you give a fuck about whether I'm okay or not? Are you really about to apologize for that?"

"No. For—I panicked, man, I should be able to not fucking lose it."

Another snort, and he rolls his eyes. "Your definition of 'losing it' and mine are very fucking different." You open your mouth to argue; he lays a finger across your lips. "Shush and listen to me. You did everything you needed to do. You didn't know what was happening—which is my fucking fault, I should have had enough sense to clue you in on how my powers work a little better—and you kept functioning anyway. I know a hell of a lot of people who can't do that shit, Dave."

"I still panicked."

"Yeah, and that sucked. But it doesn't change the fact that because of you we're on the way to see your hunters, instead of in jail somewhere."

"...I guess." When you go to press your face against Karkat's chest again, he lets you do it. Fuck, wait. I'm an idiot. "Didn't you tell me you were going to be hungry?"

"Oh, I am. But I don't know when the next time you'll lay down with me like this is going to be." He is fucking smirking when you look up at him again. "I wasn't going to tell you to get up and—"

"You smooth fucking idiot." You swat at his shoulder and roll off his chest, leaning over to unzip the tent's door. "There's food in the truck, c'mon." And if you really want me to keep using you as a mattress, I think I'd be more than okay with doing that.

He's tilting his head. You don't have to look to know that.

"...Dave."

"Yeah?" The fucking zipper is stuck.

"Be sure and tell me if you end up being not okay with me being your mattress." He lets you mess with the thing for a second, then nudges your hands aside and gets it loose himself, sitting back so you can exit first. "I think I'd be able to tell, but let me know if I don't back the fuck down when you need me to."

"Yeah." The bags of food are in the backseat of the truck; you lean in and grab two at random, turning to hand them to Karkat. Dunno if I could kick somebody out of bed with me, but you'll know if I want to, deal?

You don't miss his wince as he catches that thought from you, but he sure as hell doesn't hesitate in taking the bags and reaching into one. "Deal."

"Cool. There's more food if you eat all that—" You really don't think he will. "—and I'm gonna pack up. Unless I'm misreading the damn map, we should get to Dirk's place in maybe four or five hours."

Karkat's mouth is already full of what seems to be half a burrito, but he frees up one hand to give you a thumbs-up.

It takes you maybe five minutes to roll up and secure the sleeping bags, another five to get the tent disassembled, and fifteen to get the goddamn thing rolled small enough to fit back in the bag. You're muttering imprecations against whoever the fuck designed this stupid thing by the time you finally get the bag zipped and scoop everything up to drop it in the backseat. You have to move the one remaining half-full Taco Bell bag aside to do it—evidently you were wrong about how much Karkat was going to eat.

Speaking of Karkat.

He's in the front passenger seat with the door still open and his seat reclined halfway. Again, he looks asleep, but when you touch his shoulder his eyes open. "Eat something, Dave."

"Bossy."

"Hell yes I am." He growls when you shut his door and head around to the other side; by the time you finish buckling yourself in he's holding out a still-wrapped burrito. The scowl on his face suggests that you're not allowed to refuse it.

Instead, you ignore him and start the truck, backing up until you can pull out of the rest area. Amazingly, that tactic works...well, for maybe five minutes.

Then Karkat starts nudging at your wrist with the burrito, which he's unwrapped now, and you can't help but laugh. "You're a stubborn fucker, you know that?"

"Hey, it's a demon thing." In the second that you take your eyes off the road to grab the burrito out of his hand, you see his self-satisfied grin.

"Sure it is." If you had a hand free, you'd push your shades up so he could see you're rolling your eyes at him. Since you don't...time to improvise.

I'm rolling my eyes at you, asshole.

Even though he's already leaned back and closed his eyes again, Karkat laughs at that. "Of course you are," he says. "You're not going to get lost if I go to sleep for a couple hours, right?"

"Hell yeah, man. You got four hours before I wake you up, alright?"

"Mhm."

...is he asleep already?

You're pretty sure he is.

#demon eyes

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erinravenseekerarts · 7 years

Text

This is the Deal You Made

HEY LOOK I ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING

Alright so this is a Miraculous Ladybug fic I wrote partly inspired by this chapter in seasonofthegeek’s awesome One Hundred MORE Miraculous Drabbles. Also inspired by that one bit in JelloApocalypse's So This is Basically Miraculous Ladybug when he says "ladybubs has the power to be lucky, and catnerd has the power to kill anything he touches."

Also disclaimer don’t trust my science. Yes, I actually do have a degree. In bullshitting.

So yeah this happened. Read on my AO3 or under the cut.

Post on the Ladyblog, Today at 11:03pm.

victory once again!

theLadyblogger another akuma beat by ladybug and chat noir! you two are awesome!! ladybug totes beat ass back ther like omg ur the best herere the snaps i got frm the fight bros attachment: heckyes.pptx but srsly its like 11pm cn hwkmoth plz just take a brkkkkk alredy????

Comments on; victory once again!

cookietime at 11:10pm ladybug isn’t the best, she’s useless without chat noir

curiositykilledthechat at 11:13pm What do you mean? I disagree.

cookietime at 11:14pm i mean ladybug would probably be dead by now if it werent for chat noir

curiositykilledthechat at 11:16pm Don’t say that! Ladybug is definitely capable of taking all these akumas on her own, you know.

cookietime at 11:17pm shes literally cannon fodder w/out chat what are you talking about. i stand by my previous claim shes naive and shed already be dead

curiositykilledthechat at 11:18pm That’s a lie! Ladybug is intelligent, beautiful, and she works incredibly hard to keep the city safe every night! That’s more than many people in Paris can do.

cookietime at 11:20pm whatever. she wouldve died tonight if it werent for chat noir. dont even try to convince me otherwise.

theLadyblogger at 11:21pm the heck is goin on here!?!??!!?!?!!1?!?? this is blASPHEMY

Marinette didn’t even dare to look at the next response, closing the tab. Of course Alya had to arrive then. Marinette’s honestly surprised she hasn’t been banned yet for all the times she’s ‘blasphemed’ or whatever about Ladybug. Maybe that’s just her best friend privileges speaking.

Her phone buzzes. Probably Alya. She doesn’t even care right now, flopping back onto her bed, pulling a pillow over her head, and screaming into it. She’s so tired, it’s one of those days, and she just can’t handle it right now. Not with the late-night akuma attack, with her friends throwing praise at her alter ego all the time, not when she really doesn’t deserve it. Sometimes it’s fun, but on days like this she only fights because she’s the only one who can.

She doesn’t move as the trapdoor above her bed squeaks a little, as a small gust of the chilly night air outside puffs into the room, as a weight lands and makes itself comfortable on her bed. She feels like if she lifts the pillow off her head she’ll scream or sob and she can’t do it. Not when he’s come to visit her on a night like this. He didn’t have to argue with her online, he didn’t have to break out at almost midnight, and he certainly didn’t have to jump rooftops in the cold just to make sure she would be okay.

Marinette resists the urge to punch something, probably herself, as slivers of green light filter past her shut eyelids. She can hear Plagg muttering and the sound of a drawer opening, likely the small cat getting at the camembert she always keeps there for him. When she feels the pillow being pulled at a little, she only holds it tighter.

“Mari,” Adrien says quietly, and she lets out a sob. She’s shaking, she knows, and he scoops her up into his arms as she cries and her pillow leaves her face and all she can do is latch onto him. Either one of them could’ve died tonight and it’s just so hard to think straight and here she is, breaking down when she really shouldn’t and it’s just so difficult to keep going on like everything is normal when it really isn’t. She can’t go to school tomorrow, and she has no doubt Adrien would just stay here and play games with her for the whole day if she didn’t force him to go.

“It’s okay,” he shushes, and she knows she can hear Tikki and Plagg talking in the background but all she can focus on is how tight her grip on the front of Adrien’s shirt is because if she lets her mind any further than what is immediately in front of her she’ll snap completely. “We’re okay.” She ignores the buzzing of her phone by her leg. Alya’s either mad, or worried, or both, but she can’t care right now.

It seems like ages before Marinette's able to pull away just a little, forcing her breathing to even. Adrien still won’t budge, keeping her in a close hug. God knows she needs it.

“You didn’t have to come,” she says eventually, body completely under control once again. She pulls away. “I’ll have been fine eventually.”

“Nonsense, bug. What kind of partner would I be then?” he gives her an empathetic smile. “Besides, we both have our days. At least I can be here for you.”

More tears are going down Marinette’s cheeks but now she’s smiling faintly. She’s pulled back into the hug and honestly, there’s nothing else she wants right now.

If the next day is spent napping and cuddling and playing video games and definitely not at school, who’s to judge?

Breathing is hard.

Skeletal muscles attach to bones and move according to messages from the nervous system. One such muscle is the diaphragm, the muscle that facilitates the breathing process by expanding and contracting the space inside of the lungs, creating a vacuum that is quickly replaced by air via the bronchial tubes.

Moving is hard.

Fatigue slows the central nervous system, causing difficulties in reaction time and movement speed. As muscles typically involved in all types of movement are skeletal muscles, they rely on the central nervous system to pilot them.

Keeping one’s tired heart together is hard.

Scientifically speaking, hearts themselves cannot break. They aren’t made of a brittle substance, they are muscle. However hearts, unlike other muscles, cannot tire. They consist of a special muscle called cardiac muscle, which contains up to 35% mitochondria, supplying the heart with a nigh-limitless amount of energy. While the heart does not tire naturally, it isn’t impossible for it to tire. By the point that it does, serious damage has already been done to the fibres.

The bright screen hurts his eyes in the darkness of his room. His hands are shaking. Plagg is asleep. He doesn’t want to wake the exhausted kwami. The Ladyblog is open on his computer and he can’t keep writing. Alya’s probably pissed.

curiositykilledthechat at 9:47pm Chat Noir doesn’t even do anything useful.

theLadyblogger at 9:51pm wat the heck u talkin about?!??!?!?????

curiositykilledthechat at 9:53pm I mean, Ladybug always carries the fights. She’s the one who always fixes everything.

cookietime at 9:54pm that doesn’t mean chat noir isn’t helpful!

theLadyblogger at 9:54pm chat noir protects ladybug and makes it so she can fix everythin tho!!!

curiositykilledthechat at 9:56pm All he does is destroy things and put people in danger.

Adrien's vision is blurry. When did he start crying? He can’t read the messages on the Ladyblog. It probably doesn’t matter. His phone buzzes. Several times. Then it rings. He doesn’t pick it up, doesn’t move from his spot in the chair at his desk. When a cold gust of wind hits him he faintly thinks When did my window open? before two arms wrap around his shoulders from behind. Ah. Then. The window is always unlocked anyway. His hand grips the arms tightly, and he doesn’t protest when they urge him up and move him over to the couch to sit down. He still doesn’t look. There’s a flash of pink light as the window is shut, then footsteps make their way to him.

“Shhhhh, it’s alright,” Marinette sits down beside him and pulls him into a hug. She runs her hands through his hair as he silently struggles to control his breathing. He’s leaning heavily on her, but she doesn’t complain. He’s always leaning on her, always being a burden, always messing things up and endangering her and being controlled and destroying everything.

“Quiet now, kitty,” she whispers as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, and he buries his face further into her shoulder. His hands are shaking but he’s stopped crying now, at least.

“All I do is destroy things,” he gets out meekly after a few minutes. Marinette hums.

“What about us? You’re always saving me. You were the one to ask me out,” she replies gently.

“I’m scared,” he’s almost whispering now. “I have the power to destroy everything I touch. I do destroy everything I touch.” It’s barely audible now. “What if I destroy someone?”

“I’ll know you never meant to,” comes the steady reply. He knew that would be the answer. He just can’t believe Marinette would trust him so deeply and entirely. Because it’s happened before, that he’s tried to use Cataclysm on a person. She told him so; he’d pulled it on her during the Dark Cupid incident. He feels sick. The power to destroy whatever he touches, to kill people so easily, is terrifying to wield. He feels like he shouldn’t have this responsibility, no matter what Plagg or Tikki say. He can’t trust himself enough.

They spend a little longer in silence until Adrien is almost falling asleep on Marinette’s shoulder, calmed and purring quietly. Side effects of being Chat Noir. She eventually huffs and nudges him up.

“Come on, sleepy kitty, we have a test tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep too.” Adrien protests faintly as she leaves. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

Adrien nods. “Yes. I’m okay.”

Alya and Nino are worried about their friends, sure. Sometimes the happiness seems forced, too-wide smiles and very quick "i’m fine"s followed by a change in subject. They’re better around each other, though. Marinette is less frantic when near Adrien, and Alya suspects she’s just acting all flustered and stuff now. Adrien seems less tense around Marinette, more comfortable in his own skin.

Alya and Nino know they aren’t part of whatever seems to be going on in their best friends’ lives. They know no matter how much they wish they could change the circumstances, know and be part of it, it’s something they can’t be privy to.

Whatever’s wrong, they’re glad those two have each other.

End.

#erinravenseekerart #fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #adrien x marinette #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #post-identity-reveal #basically these children are sad #excuse me while i basically just copy the tags from the AO3 upload #help #too many tags wth #I'm posting this at 10:30pm

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