#her miraculous is clipped on the back of her belt

[pedgito]

𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 — 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: based off this request. eddie’s used to being everyone’s dirty little secret; quick hookups spur rumors spread around school that have you more than curious and eddie has to admit, he’s just as curious about you.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), cheerleader!reader, reader is also new to school, teasing banter between reader and eddie, strangers with benefits (joke, but also true), lots of horrible sex experiences with a clueless eddie (he’s just eager to please), reader having similar interests with eddie, fingering, mostly clothed sex, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5.5k

Eddie learned quickly that rejection came in many forms, not necessarily when he expected, but it was always there, waiting to creep up on him. His hard exterior wasn’t something that was always there either—and he wasn’t even sure if you could call it that. But, he was great at theatrics, an amazing actor, and if there was anyone better at masking their feelings—sadness, or what have you. It was him.

When he loses his virginity to the girl down the road, quick and hurried in the driver’s seat of his van, he feels like he should do more—maybe even take her out on a nice date. Truly, he should’ve done that first, but she wasn’t interested. So, after a short few minutes of unskillful thrusts, seethed inside a girl he doesn’t know much about, he comes with a pitiful groan until she can’t stand it anymore, pulling herself together swiftly and bidding Eddie a clipped, excusable goodbye.

The second time is…better? It’s the beginning of senior year—the first time, and it’s sweeter, not much longer, but Eddie isn’t as clueless when it comes to listening to his partner’s needs. And she’s just a kind, helping him figure out what she likes, bossing him around in a way that he’s too afraid to admit he likes—and he makes her come, which is a miraculous feat in itself. The sex is a little lackluster and Eddie still feel the needs to apologize. She promises him it’s okay—but she’s out of his trailer before he can even utter another word.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s somewhat of a commodity—not in the positive way, but the idea of everyone wanting a piece of the freak. He was a novelty prize, another notch on the belt. Eddie didn’t really care that much, the sex was worth it, even if he had to hide how badly he wanted more than just that.

The other girls are whispering at the table when you lean toward Chrissy, her eyes linger on Jason a few feet away.

“Haven’t you heard?” One of them asks, “He’s huge—Janice wouldn’t shut up about it for a week. He didn't let her come first, though.”

“It’s always the weird ones.” Another replies, flipping their prestige ponytail over their shoulder. “If you can get past the cigarette smell—maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.”

“No—no way.” A smaller redhead butts in, “He looks like he showers once a month.”

You give Chrissy a quizzical look, to which she quickly answers, “They’re talking about Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

She points a few tables away, a gaggle of rowdy boys surrounded together and laughing loudly at something Eddie had said, his feet pressed against the bar under the table as he leaned back, arms crossed behind his head.

You'd noticed him the first day, a hell of an introduction, his voice bellowing down the hall as he chased down a younger student. Dustin was his name, if you remember correctly. He'd collided into you harshly, forcing you to the ground. An apology dies on his lips before it can even come out, helping you up wordlessly before disappearing just as fast.

Your palm raises to rest against your chin, lips pursed in concentration. His side profile is mesmerizing, the soft point to his nose, pillowy lips, “Is it true?”

“About his…” Chrissy, bless her heart, she couldn’t utter the words, quickly shaking her head, “I wouldn’t know.”

She pauses for a moment, chewing on her lip.

“He’s not mean, though.” She tells you quietly, “I’ve talked to him a few times—he’s not what people say he is.”

“Oh?” You ask, intrigued.

“He’s easy to talk to.” Chrissy admits, “It’s—it’s not important. But hey, you should try and ask him about his D&D club, I know you told me you play it—“

“Isn’t that against cheerleading rules?” You say jokingly, though it could be considered social suicide.

“I’m cheer captain.” Chrissy reminds you. “They might not like it, but I don’t care.”

You smile slightly. Chrissy was a warm light in this rather dark, dull school. She’d dragged you into her circle the second she spotted you a month ago—her personality was infectious, you couldn’t explain it.

“Okay,” You agree, “I’ll see what it’s all about.”

Eddie spots you in the doorway, hand posed to knock on the already open door, offering a subtle, but polite smile.

“Uh��hi,” You start awkwardly, “I was wondering if your club still had room for one more, but I know it’s the middle of the year and if—“

“Are you free after school?” Eddie asks, hands pressed to his hips, “Say—seven-ish?”

You laugh softly at his brazenness, instantly hooked by his unnatural charm, “Uh—I have cheer practice, but I should be able to make it. Are you sure I don’t have to like…try out or something? Pass a test?”

Eddie snorts, “So you’re a Chrissy disciple?”

“Hey—no.” You start with a stern tone, “Chrissy is sweet—“

“I’m joking,” Eddie interrupts, shaking his head, long curls flowing over his shoulders, “no, there’s no test. Just show up.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Okay,” You nod, “I guess I’ll see you then.”

“We start at seven, doors locked.” Eddie tells you, “If you’re late, you’re out.”

You give a weak, two finger mock salute. “Oh, I’m very punctual, don’t worry.”

And to your own credit, you show up five minutes early. Part of you was hoping to beat the obvious stares of the rest of the group, but you should’ve expected they’d already be seated and ready to go.

“She lives to see another day,” Eddie boasts lowly, already deep into his DM voice—you can’t help but chuckle at it, taking the free seat next to him at the table, “they didn’t eat you alive for wanting to come here?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You shrug.

Eddie’s always been everyone’s dirty little secret, so it doesn’t surprise him when you decided to omit your Hellfire club meeting to your stuck-up friends.

“Uh, who’s she?” A younger kid asks, curly hair tucked tightly under his baseball cap. Dustin.

You and Eddie both say your name at the same time, causing you to turn your head to look at him.

“I…never—“ Told him your name, is what you try to say, but Eddie interrupts just as quick.

“You did, remember?” Eddie interjects, and you’re inclined to agree, given how his face flushes red with embarrassment.

Fine. You’ll bite.

“Oh, yeah,” You agree with ease, “sorry—I completely forgot.”

The campaign goes off without a hitch and you defeat whatever big, bad monster Eddie had concocted for the night—your steadfast and quick thinking cements you as a temporary part of the group, but while the group immediately takes to you, they’re still weary to newcomers. It made sense. They all seemed like good, genuine friends—unlike the people you surrounded yourself with.

Eddie approaches you after while you’re rummaging through your bag for something, pulled from your panic as he speaks beside you, everyone having already left.

“Chrissy mentioned you before,” Eddie explains without elaborating, “that’s how I knew.”

You nod slightly, “It checks out.” You offer with a soft laugh, “She’s mentioned talking to you a few times.”

Eddie smiles tightly, eyes wandering around anxiously. If you didn’t know, he wasn’t going to say. The last thing he wanted to do was rat Chrissy out for buying from him, not that it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

Eddie huffs softly, a chortle, “—said you weren’t like the others, I guess that’s partly true.”

Your hands still, shoulders slumping as you looked over at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re still one of them,” He teases kindly, ringed finger motioning pointedly toward your cheer outfit, “it’s like a cult, isn’t it?”

He isn’t wrong, but to be bunched in with that group, it’s blood boiling.

“You don’t know me,” You tell him carefully, “I’m nothing like them.”

Eddie shrugs, taking the hand that’s tucked securely behind him and throwing a blob of cloth your way. You catch it clumsily, clutched to your chest as you stare down.

“I guess we’ll see,” Eddie grins, cheeks dimpling at the corners, “—we wear them on Friday’s.”

It’s a conflicting issue with your uniform, but nothing you can’t handle. It’s almost like he’s daring you to wear the shirt, brand yourself as a nerd in the eyes of everyone else. A freak, just like he.

You unzip the top of your cheer uniform, snug half-tank hidden underneath. Eddie doesn’t even have the courage to look away, despite how bold you’re being. You slip the shirt on over your head, the quarter sleeves rubbing at your elbows. Eddie’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“What?” You ask innocently, “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

Eddie snorts a laugh, turning on his heels to grab his own bag, keys jangling in his hand.

“You drive?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Uh, no,” You reply, dismissing your bag and zipping it back up, “I usually ride with Chrissy…and Jason.”

“Bummer.” Eddie retorts humorously.

You laugh at his comment, subconsciously agreeing.

“They’re already long gone, I imagine.” You admit, staring at the clock on the wall that read close to nine.

“Do you need a ride?” Eddie ask curiously, now making his way back toward you.

You smirk at the offer, shaking your head.

“I’m a big girl,” You assure him, “I can walk.”

Eddie makes a noise of disapproval, shaking his head.

“Forgive me if I’m being too forward,” Eddie begins, “but there’s no way I’m letting you walk alone this late. My uncle would kill me if he found out I let a girl walk the streets of Hawkins at night without offering her a ride.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder, “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him—or you, I guess.”

Eddie’s not letting up though—eyes softer, pleading slightly. Normally you’d run the other direction, but Eddie had a strange aura to him; intriguing, comforting, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You cave, releasing a quiet sigh. “Fine.”

Eddie smiles then, arms extending as he bowed forward, motioning toward the door. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

There’s a stark difference between the Eddie everyone talked about and the Eddie in front of you—you were more partial to the latter.

Eddie bounced with energy, unabashedly moving to the rumbling off the heavy rock music that played through the speakers, it’s only when he sees your eyes on him that he tones it down, shifting slightly in his seat as he mumbles a soft, “Sorry.”

You watched with amusement, adoring the way he fell into the tune of the song, never caring who was watching. Eddie’s learned to brush everyone’s opinions aside, no matter if they bothered him or not.

“Nono, I get it.” You quickly soothe his worry, shaking your head, hands clutched in your laps where your legs were crossed in the seat. “Black Sabbath is really good.”

“No way,” Eddie says with a half smile, feeling like he’s being pranked. He’s got one hand clutched on the steering wheel, head turned toward you slightly, “you listen?”

You shrug, “When I can—my parents would disown me if I brought any type of vinyl like that home. They’d say I’d switch to the dark side and started worshipping the devil.”

“So it’s Blondie and Madonna for you, huh?” Eddie asks, an exasperated nod coming from you.

“I have a few tapes for my Walkman—Exodus, Whitesnake, but it broke a few months ago.”

Eddie takes a left in the opposite direction of your house, turning down a dark road.

“Eddie,” You say slowly, eyes flicking up toward the windshield, “where are we going?”

“Quick detour.” He responds, head tilted over his shoulder, lashes fluttering as he blinked, the ever apparent charm oozing from his tone.

You really couldn’t understand the rumors now.

“Defenseless girl with a stranger in their car,” You’re being dramatic, mostly at the expense to make Eddie laugh, but also to calm your rapidly beating heart, “middle of the night—all alone, are you sure you’re not a murderer?”

“Not a murderer,” Eddie confirms, “Or a devil worshipper, or any of the other stuff everyone says about me.”

“You seem to claim the freak title.”

“It’s subjective,” Eddie counters, “people like to treat it as if it’s a bad thing. I don’t see it that way.”

A silence settles, the music filling the lull.

“I have a spare Walkman that I don’t use,” Eddie tells you, the dark road venturing into light, a small neighborhood lines with trailers, “I was gonna lend it to you.”

“That’s mighty trusting of you,” You say, eyeing him suspiciously, “what if I lose it?”

Eddie shrugs, leather rubbing against itself on his jacket. He pulls to a stop outside of the trailer, his home you’re assuming. “I guess I’m trusting you.”

And if Eddie was flirting, you were oblivious to it.

He definitely was.

“You can wait here if that makes you feel better.” Eddie offers, hand pressed to the door handle.

You take a quick glance around, unsettles by the eerie silence, a culdasac covered in trees and a forest that stretched for miles. Not a chance. Besides, you were curious.

“Nope,” Your lips pop, swinging the door open before he can even process your response, when your feet hit the ground you turn toward him, an expression of wonder crossing his face, “—give me the grand tour?”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, following your actions and taking the lead toward his front door, your softer footsteps following closely behind.

“You thought I was gonna murder you a few minutes ago,” Eddie says as he fingers with his keys, slipping the key into the lock, “what happened to that?”

You shrug, “I’m trusting you,” Eddie turns to you slightly, eyes downturned toward the gravel, you peek up on your tiptoes as his hand turns the doorknob, “don’t make me regret it.”

“Sorry if it’s a mess,” Eddie feels the need to say, even if he doesn’t mean it. He was used to living in chaos and filth, both and him spent minimal time in the trailer if they weren’t sleeping or eating a quick dinner—it was his sanctitude, but he didn’t like being cooped up all the time, “—and for the smell.”

Your nose scrunched up in question—it smelled overwhelmingly like cigarettes, the ashtray on the counter filled to the brim, and faintly of black coffee and liquor. It wasn’t bad, not by any means, but it wasn’t something you were particularly used to.

“Back here.” Eddie nods, playing with the ring of his left hand as he lead you toward the backend of the trailer, door opening to revealed another cluttered room.

The mess seemed more…organized. Less haphazard throwing around and more like an overicumulated mess of items that Eddie wasn’t able to part with. The walls covered in posters and self-made art, shelves covered so deeply you couldn’t see the original wood finish, his bad half made and stained in certain spots. It’s so typical and predictable to his personality that you can’t even be surprised by it. Eddie quickly scatters about, shoving a pile of clothes into a laundry basket and kneeling down to sift through his cabinets, pulling out a small plastic box.

You take a seat on his bed, smoothing the blanket out under you before you plop down, feet kicking at the shaggy rug. You spot the guitar a moment later, in all it’s glory, it was beautiful.

“That just for show?” You ask, pointing toward the item hung on the wall. Eddie turns to you, then to where you’re pointing, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“No,” He says proudly, making a small ‘ha!’ sound when he finds what he’s looking for, “I’ve played since middle school.”

You spot the second guitar nestled in the corner. A true collector he was and Eddie Munson surprised you once more, proving he was more than the silly rumors everyone spoke about him.

Eddie slides the Walkman into your hands, pushing on his knees as he rose, “Do you play?”

You shake your head furiously, “Absolutely not.”

Instead of urging you out of his room, Eddie takes a careful seat beside you, palms outstretch behind him, legs crossed at the ankles. You tried and failed to ignore the small sliver of skin that peaked out below his shirt, a patch of hair disappearing under his belt line, the obvious ridges of toned muscles visible underneath his shirt. Eddie seems to notice, waiting a few seconds longer before leaning forward, eyes catching yours.

You offer a friendly smile, a hint of your thighs peeking out further underneath your skirt as you crossed your legs, rubbing your hands over your exposed calves.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask timidly, curious brain getting the best of you. “But, don’t take it the wrong way.”

“You make fun of me for being a cheerleader,” You tell him, an obvious observation, “but you’ve fucked half of my friends.”

Eddie ignores the idea that he’s being talked about so openly amongst you, instead asking, “Are they really your friends though?”

And he’s right on the nose, because he’s not that clueless, “No, but—why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m nice to everyone,” Eddie defends feebly, earning a deadpan look from you, “—well, most.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I try not to judge people off of initial impressions and the shit people say about them,” It’s exactly what you’d done to him in the beginning, “why can’t I be nice to you? Do I need to have some sort of hidden agenda?”

“Do you?” You challenge.

“No—no,” He shakes his head, voice cracking slightly, “you’re a sweet girl but I would never—“

“Fuck me?” You ask crudely, smiling at him salaciously.

“Take advantage of you,” Eddie corrects you swiftly, “or try to make you feel uncomfortable—why, do you feel uncomfortable?”

“No,” You shake your head, slipping the Walkman to the floor beside your feet, “I guess I’m just curious.” You shrug, hand tucked under your thighs, legs squeezing together slightly as Eddie flexes his arms from where they rested against his knees. You could smell him from this angle—and yes, he did smell like cigarettes, and a little like weed, but he also smelled like cheap cologne and leather, a concoction of scents that invaded your senses and your brain, a pulse sent straight to your core.

“Of?” Eddie asks with a soft laugh.

“They say you’re, well,” and suddenly you feel shy, gaze flicking to his crotch, causing Eddie to glance down in response, “—considering how much I have to hear about your dick, I just wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

“So that’s what you ladies do all day?” Eddie asks, tongue resting against the ridge of his top lip, eyes narrowing on you. “Talk about me?”

“Not me,” You correct, “Them.”

Eddie’s been enough situations like these to know where it leads and you’re a pretty girl, all imperfections and quirks included, Eddie can’t help but buy into whatever game you’re playing at.

“And what do they say?” Eddie asks, a soft and curious tone to his voice.

“It’s nothing nice, usually.” You tell him, face scrunched up, “Do you really want to know?”

“I’ve gotta confirm the rumors somehow, don’t I?”

You smile to yourself, eyes turned down to your feet where they shift against the rug. “They talk about how you don’t shower and you stink and you can’t make a girl come—not that it’s possible for any man to accomplish that.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you continue.

“But, apparently your dick is huge—so that somehow makes up for it.”

These aren’t the types of talks he has with Chrissy—a girl much more innocent than you. It’s a peek inside the inner workings of a group Eddie’s never cared too much about, but it’s intriguing nonetheless.

And for once, Eddie’s at a loss for words.

“You’re—“ Eddie says with a hint of disbelief, breathing out a laugh.

“Not like most girls?” You ask expectantly, “That’s cheesy—you’re better than that, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie responds in turn, chewing idly at his bottom lip, “—I was going to say you were hard to figure out.”

Eddie pauses, considering how mortifying it might be to admit what’s rattling in his brain—he takes his chances.

“I have a confession to make.” Eddie admits, urged on by your attentive look, eyebrows raising in question. “I might’ve been the one to ask Chrissy about you—not the other way around.”

“Eddie,” You tease, “do you have a crush on me?”

Eddie laughs, “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Then?”

“I saw you that first day—before Chrissy swiped you up, before I pushed you down in the hall. I knew.”

You laugh at the memory fondly, but whatever he’s getting at, you’re not following.

Eddie elaborates, “You’re not one of them.” He flicks at the loose threading of your skirt, black shorts hidden underneath for your modesty, “It’s cute, though.”

Your nimble fingers grasp his wrist before he can pull away, cold chain pressing against your fingers from the leather band wrapped there. You were quiet, but your mind was screaming, yearning for something you knew you shouldn’t indulge in.

“I can show you,” Eddie suggests, his hand relaxing in your grip, rising up the side of your thigh to squeeze, guiding your legs apart gently until they’re no longer crossed, “if you want.”

You nod, barely a jerk of your head, letting Eddie switch the dynamic, his palm covering your own hand, guiding it over the seam of zipper, the hard line of his cock pressed against the material. That was enough to prove his point, but a touch wasn’t enough—not when he was already this hard, having not even touched you; hard at the mere thought of you.

“Eddie,” You say on a shallow breathe, eyes lifting up towards his—those wide, wet doe eyes staring right back, curls framing his face in a way that softened his features, “do you…want to?”

Fuck. The word couldn’t leave your lips, caught in your throat as his cock pulsed under your touch. Eddie doesn’t think twice, of course he does.

It’s a rushed, “Yes.” a gruff tone followed by Eddie releasing your hand to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you toward him in a searing press of your lips, fighting for the dominance you give to him so willingly, leg hiking over his lap until you’re settled over the middle, knees pressed into the old mattress where they bracketed his hips.

Eddie’s kisses are hot and overwhelming, gusts of breath against your lips as his tongue pushes inside, mewling desperately as you returned the fervor, delicate hand reaching under his chin to tilt his head up, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment.

“Condoms,” You tell him, “do you have any?”

Eddie nods tensely, eager lips wanting to reconnect. You pull back teasingly, a toothy grin growing on your face.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” You remind him, “so—we should probably hurry this up.”

Eddie tries to ignore the reoccurring theme in his life—and he’d held out a small tinge of hope that maybe this could be different. He was willing to swallow the pain, be the bigger person.

“Okay, okay,” He stammers, leaning away to grab at the open condom box on his bedside table, avoiding your amused gaze as he rummages inside, yanking the small foil packet from the box, “uh, should we—“

And suddenly he feels like a blushing virgin again, shrinking underneath your gaze. You looked at him intently, analyzing every part of him. You weren’t sure what type of guy Eddie was and you weren’t going to let yourself forget this so easily.

“No, here’s fine,” You assure him, perched at the edge of his bed, “—let me, hold on—“ You stand for a brief moment, slipping your underwear and shorts down in one quick moment, leaving you bare underneath that skimpy cheer skirt. Eddie tries not to stare, to linger, but his hands press along the tops of your thighs, warm palms kneading into the skin, staring up at you with an awestruck gaze, not realizing you’re speaking to him until you’re judging his shoulder, “—your pants, Eddie. Unzip them.”

“Shit, yeah,” Eddie comes to, shaking away the daze, “sorry.”

Eddie struggles with the clasp of his belt, leaned back slightly as he fumbles with it. You can’t stand his anxious, shaking hands and assist him, yanking the belt away with a snap when it’s finally free, climbing back on his lap as he yanks at his jeans, pulling them down far enough to free his cock, aching as it arches up toward his belly in all it’s glory—you could easily say the rumors were true, the tip blushed a soft pink as the precome that leaked from it stained his shirt.

Eddie squeezes gently at the soft mound of your ass, rubbing your cunt against him for a brief second, his breath heavy as he exhaled.

“I know we’re on a time limit, but I don’t want it to hurt,” Eddie interrupted quietly, hands traveling around to press against your hips, forcing you to sit fully on his lap, feet tucked up behind you against his knees, “Can I touch you?”

He was right—the thought of taking him inside of you so suddenly, it was daunting.

“Mhmm.” You reply softly, a melodic hum.

Eddie slips a hand under your skirt, eyes locked on your face to watch your reaction, brow furrowing at the first touch of his middle finger of your clit, circling briefly before gliding through your folds, dipping inside you carefully. He pumps once, twice, your slick wetting his finger as he pulls back out, the friction enough to have you whimpering out loud—and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Eddie introduces a second finger soon after, your hand squeezing at his broad shoulder, steadying you as your body shook with his movements. His mouth was hung open slightly in concentration, eyes half-lidded as he watched you sigh and lean back into his hold, a solid hand pressed into your back to keep you there.

Your hips rock against his hand, a gentle movement, eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming sensation—his skilled touches and you’re absolute inability to not be turned on by simply being in his presence, let alone like this. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle waiting for his cock, the laugh that slips from his chest enough to send you down a spiral. But, he’s pulling away just as quick, the sound of a foil packet ripping in the close distance.

He slips the condom on wordlessly, gaze locked on the space between you both, the rubber snapping slightly as he struggles to be swift, face scrunching up in concentration.

Eddie’s always been one to try and take his time—though that isn’t always the case, like now, but he still wants to make things enjoyable, as difficult as that may be for something as nonchalant as a quick fuck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Eddie says softly, breath hot against your neck as he lifts your hips with one hand, the other steady or his shaft as he guides himself toward your entrance, pressing gently, “I’ll slow down.”

“You really underestimate just how much I can handle.” You joke teasingly, breath hitching as he pushes at your hip slightly, tip of his cock breaching you.

It isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you’re expecting, the first gentle thrust of his hips—the stretch stings, but it’s nothing but a dull ache amongst all the other things you’re feeling. Warm, calloused hands on bare skin as they sneak under your Hellfire shirt, wrinkled and smelling of Eddie like he’d had it shoved away in his bag for weeks. Soft, wet lips pressing against the underside of your chin from where Eddie’s head is tilted up caused by the small height difference from where you’re positioned in his lap.

His features are more noticeable like this, rough from a distance but even softer up close—chocolate brown eyes staring up at you so wantonly, blinded by pleasure. His hair is mused around his face, bangs askew from where he’s pushed them away slightly, having reached a length a little more uncomfortable than normal. He’s present and watching, gauging every reaction you have, thrusting his hips a little faster until you’re moaning out, desperate hands burying into his untamed hair and pulling, his lips leaving your skin and his neck pulled back taut.

“Fuck that’s—“ Eddie sighs, another subtle hair pull from you as he stretches his thighs wider, forcing you to fall against him in support, “—no one’s ever—“

You gasp, laughing against his face from where you’ve leaned slack against him, lips dragging along his cheek, “No one’s ever pulled your hair? You’re kidding?”

Eddie shakes his head with difficulty, chuckling as you pulled a bit tighter. “That’s a fucking shame.” You tell him honestly.

Eddie nods in agreement, hands spreading out over your thighs as he squeezes, forcing himself impossibly deeper, nudging a spot inside of you that has you keening forward, a choked off moan leaving your mouth.

“Again,” You gasp, “Fuck, do that again.”

Eddie smirks, devious edge to his expression as he thrust into you harshly, your face burying into his neck at the motion, muffling your cries.

Eddie mimics your actions, ringed fingers winding into your hair and pulling, forcing your face away from his neck, whimpering at the speed of his thrusts, clenching around him in desperation. Eddie’s incredibly noisy, something you had been too distracted to pay attention until he’s holding you up, forcing you to look at him. He’s daring, bold—confident considering the circumstances. He barely knows you—but he knows well enough that he’s already addicted. Addicted to you noises, your subtle expressions, your ability to keep up with him in conversation and give back just as much as he gave, it was refreshing despite how he knew things would end.

It was rushed, grabbing hands, irregular thrusts that were driving you mad, animalistic in the way Eddie’s teeth grazed against your jaw, sucking a light bruise into the skin—you weren’t quick enough to tell him you didn’t like marks, but you also couldn’t find it in your to care. But, you were despair touch, desperate to come, so you opened your mouth and begged, embarrassed over how pitiful you sound.

“Your hand—“ You say rushed, pulling at his wrist. Eddie nods jerkily, letting you guide his hand toward your cunt, his thumb pressing over your clit suddenly, knowing just what you need, “fuckfuck, Eddie—“

“Trying to prove those rumors wrong, sweetheart.”

You let out a strained laugh, dying out on a loud moan as Eddie rubs quick circles over your clit, alighting a bundle of electricity the starts in the pit of your stomach and hits you hard, hips rocking needy against his hand.

Eddie follows after just as fast, moving his long arms to encircle your waist, coming undone under your touch with a whine, mouth hung open slightly as he breathed out a harsh breath that swallowed up by you, a soft kiss pressed against his lips.

A silence drags over, nothing but the combined sounds of your breaths until Eddie finally speaks, breaking the blanket of tension.

“Thoughts?” He asks timidly, helping you off of his lap slowly, hips aching as you stood. “Concerns?”

You huff a quiet laugh, reaching down for your underwear and slipping them back on. “Shut up,” You say fondly, wiggling your hips until they’re set, watching as Eddie moved around the room to dispose of the condom, fixing his pants back up, “—it was good.”

He’s waiting for the but—but it never comes.

“I really need to get home though,” You remind him, offering a subtle smile, “if you don’t mind.”

“Uh, yeah—“ Eddie replies awkward, returning to your side and leaning down to grab the Walkman. In the midst of everything, you’d completely forgotten it, “—let’s go.”

And you feel like an idiot, anxiety and nerves running through your body. If you don’t say it now, you’ll never get it out.

“How early do you get up in the morning?” You ask randomly, watching as Eddie pulled a confused face.

“Eight.” He answers simply.

“But, school starts at eight fifteen—“ You shake your head, hands held out to stop him in his place, “—anyways, do you want to stop for breakfast on Monday?”

Eddie pauses, stricken with shock.

You notice his uneasiness, “Or not.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, suddenly realizing that silence isn’t an option in this situation, “No, no, no—We can, we totally can.”

“But?”

“I don’t really—“ Eddie stops, trying to mince his words down, “girls don’t typically stick around to hang out, you know?”

“That’s ridiculous,” You laugh slightly, “oh—you’re serious?”

Eddie nods, “I’m just surprised, is all. But yeah, I’d love to.”

“Thank god,” You sigh, “another morning in the car with Chrissy and Jason and I was going to lose it.”

Eddie makes a face, asking for you to elaborate, eyebrow raised subtly.

“They’re so grossly in love.”

And love—you just couldn’t stand it.

“So, pick me up at seven?” You ask hopefully, arms crossed over you front, Walkman gripped in your hand.

Eddie smiles wide, “Sure.”

Eddie’s so used to rejection and abandonment that he almost can’t believe it’s true, but you’re living, breathing proof. But like he’d suspected, there was just something special about you. Something different.

Please consider leaving a comment or reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #1kfic

[imsparky2002]

Batraculous: Diver Bat

Character Name: Missy Rutherford

Miraculous Hero Name: Diver Bat

Appearance: Missy, known as Diver Bat, stands on the shorter side with tanned Caucasian skin that highlights her athletic physique. Her chin-length dirty blonde hair, adorned with bangs clipped back, frames her face. She possesses narrow hazel eyes and a chip in one of her front teeth, a remnant from a diving accident. Missy's style reflects a slight punk edge, with chains, spikes, and bright colors adding a touch of rebelliousness to her appearance.

Personality: As Ondine's best friend since childhood and a fellow member of the swim team, Missy carries a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Her personality is characterized by a sharp wit and a sarcastic demeanor, often ready with a biting comment. She tends not to warm up to people quickly, but she is fiercely protective of Ondine. Missy took some time to accept Kim, and while she still enjoys teasing him, she has a begrudging respect for him.

Batsuit Description: Diver Bat's batsuit embodies Missy's swimming prowess, her protective nature, and her rebellious spirit, featuring a sleek and functional design.

Cowl: Missy's cowl has a streamlined and hydrodynamic design, resembling a diving mask. It includes built-in sonar and underwater navigation systems for precise movements in water-based battles. The cowl also features enhanced vision modes for navigating in various underwater conditions.

Cape: Her cape is a vibrant and dynamic shade of aquamarine, symbolizing her affinity for water and swimming. The cape is designed to resemble flowing water, with wave-like patterns and intricate designs inspired by aquatic creatures. The cape can transform into a set of fins that enhance her swimming speed and agility.

Armor: Diver Bat's armor is flexible and water-resistant, allowing for fluid movements underwater. It includes reinforced panels around vital areas and joints for added protection without compromising mobility. The armor incorporates sleek and aerodynamic designs, resembling the streamlined form of a swimmer.

Gadgets: Her utility belt contains a range of aquatic-themed gadgets. Missy carries underwater breathing apparatuses for extended periods submerged, along with miniaturized water propulsion devices for swift underwater travel. She also has aquatic-based explosives and distraction devices for underwater combat.

Diver Bat's batsuit encapsulates Missy's expertise in swimming, her protective instincts, and her rebellious nature, adding an aquatic edge to the Miraculous heroes of Paris. With her proficiency in underwater battles and protection of her friends, she plays a critical role in defending against threats lurking beneath the surface.

Thanks to ChatGPT for assistance. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask for more. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

#missy rutherford #missy #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #batraculous #batheroes #batman au #batman #superhero au #theater kids

[crystalrose36]

(This is a work of fanfiction. All of the characters belong to their rightful owners, I don’t own Star Wars universe or any of the characters in the franchise. However the the fanfiction characters in this belong to me.)

Lost child of the red thread

Chapter 1 Destiny

“OPEN FIRE!”

The hallways of the leftover star cruiser were covered in a red glow. Republic soldiers and imperials were pouring out of every hallway as they fired their weapons. Even though the ship had long since been grounded it continued to shake and moan.

A pipe let out a burst of steam into your room and filling it with the hot air. It seems the lieutenant failed in his promise to buy you time. The small backpack you had only contained a few data pads, a water filter bottle, yellow imperial biscuits and a stuffed animal from your mother. It seemed like fate was telling you your time was up, no more hiding. Covering your mouth you miraculously made your way to the door and clicked it open, giving a momentary break from the hot air that quickly filled your room.

Imperials rushed passed you as you stumbled into the hallway, everyone looked so scared. Gripping the straps of your backpack you followed them in a sprint, there was hidden exit on the way they were going. Maybe this was your chance to escape the rebels. Your mother always said “The battle isn’t over as long as you are alive.” And so you turned the corner only to be met with the imperials holding their blasters up at a hooded figure with two glowing swords.

You didn’t see the figure move as the two officers were flung to the side, their guns falling away from them. Your breath catches in your throat and your legs become frozen in place.

“Do not be afraid little one, I am not going to hurt you. You are safe alright?” The figure spoke to you in a calming voice as she deactivated her swords and clipped them onto her belt. As you listened, the voice sounded like a female. Lifting her hood, you could see the warrior was a Togruta and had interesting eyes. Not as cold as your mothers or mysterious as your fathers.

“Who said I am afraid? I am not!” Shaking your head at her, gritting your teeth. She took down two officers without even touching them…..could you really out run her?

She smirks at you trying to hold in her laugh. “Listen kid, the battle is over. You should come with me, as I said I’m not going to hurt you.” The warrior took a step towards you and knelt on the ground holding out her hand. Sounds of blaster fire began to get closer to you both, you heard someone scream “FOR THE EMPIRE!” A white light covered the walls of the ship and then darkness consumed your vision.

Ahsoka Tano POV

The droid did its final patch up as I flexed my hand. That really was a close one, taking a deep breath I let out a sigh. Looking over to my right the child was still asleep, it was a blessing considering her wounds. The burn marks didn’t look good on her side when i pulled us out of the rubble.

The door opened reveal Hera and she looked none too pleased about what had happened on that ship.

“Are you alright Ahsoka?” Hera said as she sat down next to me.

I nodded, “Yes I’ll be fine. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to-“

“It wasn’t your fault, the Imps were always crazy. I should have expected something like this.” Looking over at the medical reports of both me and the kid Hers paused.

“The child-she is a little older than my Jason….but……”

I folded my arms and pondered.

“Hera, she isn’t Thrawn. What will the council do?”

“Honestly, they don’t know. Considering who she is, the council might place her in a camp or-“ her sentence was interrupted as the young child woke up. I walked up slowly to her and placed a hand on hers.

“Hey kid, glad to see you back with us. Do you remember what happened.”

She jolted up and tried to move away, but her side made her fall back onto the bed. I guess my words weren’t helping.

“Whoa, take it easy. We are in a medical bay, treating your wounds. My name is Ahsoka Tano, and this is General Syndulla. What is your name?”

I saw her breathing slow as she looked around. Propping herself up on the pillows she looked at Hera and I.

“My name is Sev’eere’nuruodo, thank you for saving my life.”

(End of chapter 1)

Sev’eere’nuruodo: Chiss name meaning ‘Brave’, the core world name is ‘Veeren’.

#ThrawnStarWarsfanfic

[dcviated]

@pastballads continued from here

The fall was less than graceful. Were the witch wearing something other than pants and a coat it would have been far more degrading to boot, as if the loose dirt smeared over her and her clothes wasn’t enough. Too tired for this... too hungry!! Ellie groans as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, brushing a few specks from her face and wiping her eyes before she manages to look up. Someone there? Oh lucky, she doesn’t have to try anything stupid to get out!

“Eheh... yep, I don’t think I want to be in another one of these right now anyway. Sorry about that, mister.” Her tone attempts humor but there’s enough guilt and embarrassment to pull the witch back from her usual jovial and energetic mannerisms. “Just a second.” A moment is taken to adjust her dirtied coat, the tome she had dropped on impact clipping back on her belt before awkwardly she grasps onto the handle.

Upon being lifted she’d grab onto the edge of the grave, accepting any further assistance to get out and.... flop onto her back on the warm grassy yard. Right. She hadn’t miraculously recovered any of her energy from all the walking. And a lot just got spent then holding on to the spade.

“Today could really be going a lot better for me...! Thank you for your help, I was not watching where I was going... but it was pretty cool down there, heheh.”

#pastballads #pastballads :: leon #muse :: malkuth #verse :: fantasy

[yelena-bellova]

Don't Be Afraid - Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader: Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four: Don't Be Afraid

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n races to Exegol to help Rey defeat Palpatine.

Warnings: violence, major character death

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Holy fudge balls, THE chapter is here. This is the one we've been building to for the whole series and I hope it delivers. After this we've got only one chapter left which I honestly can't believe. It's been such a ride and I'm going to miss writing it so much...Okay, I'll stop. Enjoy!

--------

Navigating my way to Exegol took every bit of knowledge I had as a pilot. I had left only a minute before the fleet took off, I could sense them behind me as I twisted and turned through the atmospheric chaos. My fighter flew true and smooth though, I could trust it to deliver me safely.

When I finally emerged in the darkness of the planet and saw the fleet that awaited our own, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you kidding me?” I mumbled to myself. Hundreds of Star Destroyers were sat, waiting to attack their prey. I wasn’t on the comm system to warn anybody. Every voice in my head screamed at me to stay and fight alongside my friends, but my instincts knew where I was needed most. I’d mapped out Rey’s coordinates, all I had to do was turn and follow them…

All I had to do was turn away from my friends, from Poe.

I fought every urge I had and nudged the fighter forwards and to the left, following the imaginary trail Rey had left me. I was heading towards what looked like a huge stone fortress with lightning striking sporadically around it. Perfect for a Sith Lord to be hiding out in. I spotted Luke’s old X-Wing that had somehow ended up in Rey’s possession, my heart leaping at the realization that I was close to her. I worked to land my starfighter next to her ship and unbuckled my harness as fast as I could. With my lightsaber clipped to one side of my belt and my blaster at my other, I unsealed the cockpit and hopped out. I ran to the entrance of the fortress and paused, fear overtaking me suddenly. I was about to step into the heart of the Dark Side, to come face to face with evil incarnate. The darkness that I knew lay inside me swirled, igniting my anxieties once again that there was some part of me that fell in line with what I was about to meet. Would I strike down Palpatine, or would I discover once and for all that I wasn’t as truly good as everybody thought I was?

A sudden sound of an incoming ship startled me from my thoughts, I turned around to see an incoming TIE fighter coming in hot. It landed on the other side of my ship, causing me to pull out my blaster quickly and prepare to fight whoever had tracked me down. I couldn’t have ever guessed who would emerge from the cockpit…

It was him.

He came running towards me, his robes gone and clothed only in black leggings and a matching tunic. His hair was untamed in the wind, reminding me of how he looked when we were children running through the hills of Chandrila. He didn’t look angry, he looked determined. He looked…he looked like him again.

He stopped in front of me, meeting my gaze and silently urging me with his eyes to believe what I saw. Believe that it was him. That I could trust him. That he was here for all the right reasons. I searched every feeling and fear that coursed through me, finding nothing but everything I’d waited for all those years…

“Ben?” “Yeah.”

No words were needed. No doubts. No fears. My brother had come back to me.

I dropped my blaster and leapt into his arms, him catching me and wrapping his arms around my back. The tears I’d held back, telling myself that he no longer mattered to me, began to flow freely. His embrace felt the same as it always had, despite the years I’d gone without feeling his bony shoulder pressing into my cheek or the height difference he’d always tease me about. He was still somehow miraculously him.

“I’ll explain later, we’ve gotta go,” Ben said, bringing me back to reality.

He set me down and I picked up my blaster, I had so many questions but would have to have them answered later. All that mattered was that he was here when I needed him the most. I didn’t have to fight alone any more.

The two of us entered the cave together, sprinting through it with Ben taking the lead. “You’ve been here before?” I asked as we ran.

“Once or twice,” he answered, “Get ready to jump.” As I registered his words, Ben leapt into a chasm without hesitation. I followed his lead and free fell until I saw a giant chain. I reached out and wrapped my body around one of its links, just above my brother.

“Ow,” I heard him grumble from below me.

I peered down and saw the full length of the chain. It stretched for what seemed to be miles. The quickest way to get down was also the most dangerous. “Climb down a few,” I directed, “Then once it begins to flatten out, run.” Ben followed my suggestion and began to make his way down, I followed suit and at the curve of the chain, we stood up and carefully held our balance. To keep it, we had to move fast and precisely. One wrong slip and we’d fall into whatever darkness waited below. “Don’t slow down!” I shouted from behind.

We landed at the end of the chain and resumed our sprint. I trusted Ben to know where Palpatine would be, he ran with enough purpose that he must have. Eventually, we ran into a pair of guards. One fired a shot that whizzed between us, Ben had his blaster out already and fired a perfect shot. I blindly took out the one to our left with my own, the two of us working perfectly in sync.

“Ow!” I cried out, reaching out to grab Ben’s arm and ceasing our run. “What’s wrong? Did you get hit?” Ben was at attention immediately, scanning my body for a wound that was nonexistent.

I shook my head and tried to breathe through the pain, “Someone just died up there.”

My empathic abilities were on high alert as I began to sense the loss of lives from the fight in the skies. The only thing I could make out of it was that it hadn’t been Poe. That was enough for me to take a deep breath and allow Ben to usher me forward once again.

We came to a halt as we rounded a corner, spotting a pack of menacing figures coming towards us. The Knights of Ren. The dark warriors my brother himself had led. I looked to the side and saw the rest of them approaching, they were closing in on us. “Don’t say it,” Ben said quietly, already sensing what I was thinking. “You couldn’t have had a smaller posse?” I defiantly asked.

The knights began their attack on us, Ben force pushed as many as he could away while I ignited my saber. I spun and sliced one’s staff in half before plunging my weapon into his chest. I was in no mood to dally. Before I could push away from his body, one came up from behind and kicked me to the ground. I landed with a groan and just as I regained my footing, one used the butt of their weapon to hit me in the head. I collapsed once more, panting and searching blindly for my lightsaber that had rolled somewhere during the fight. Ben stumbled forward and stood protectively in front of me, waiting for me to gain the strength to stand again. The knights were surrounding us, everybody was waiting on the other to make the next move. For a moment, I was starting to wonder whether or not we’d even make it to Palpatine. I could hear deep throated chants from deeper within the cavern, we were close. So close…

“Rey, where are you?” I whispered to myself, not wanting the knights to hear. I reached out through the Force and searched for her, feeling somewhat at ease when I sensed her close proximity. I looked up to Ben who was staring deeply into what was seemingly nothing, but I knew differently. Him and Rey were utilizing their bond through the Force. I didn’t question any further, even as my brother reached back behind him and I watched a lightsaber appear in his hand as if by magic. Ben adjusted his stance and as the knights grew restless, he gave a little shrug that reminded me so much of our father, it made me smile.

Ben took a sudden swing with the blue saber and began fervently attacking his former underlings. I sprung to my feet and unhooked my blaster, taking shots while I looked for my saber. I spotted one of the knights cockily picking it up and igniting it, spurring me forward to aim a perfectly aimed shot to his head. Just as his body hit the ground, I retrieved the saber from his hands and swung around to meet another knight. I looked up to see Ben flying through the air and taking out two more of them, within another brief set of seconds, we had taken them all out. We took off side by side deeper into the heart of the hideout, hearing the sound of blaster fire and a lightsaber being used. We were going to make it. As we turned a corner, one more Imperial guard blocked our way. Ben and I both reached our hands out and used the Force to shove him out of the way to reveal Rey.

She looked shocked to see us in the flesh. I took off toward her first with Ben only one step behind me. While it seemed like there was so much to say, the three of us stood in an understanding silence. Rey had spent her whole life alone up until we’d met in the Jakku desert. But she knew now, as I’d assured her so many times, she’d never be on her own again. It was that assurance I was trying to convey to her with my being there. That I would stand with her, fight with her and die with her if necessary. She was my sister in every sense of the word.

I turned my gaze to my brother, the person I’d literally and figuratively always looked up to. Ben and I had been siblings, best friends, partners and enemies over the course of our lives. We’d tried to kill each other and had saved each other, sometimes in the same hour. But there was no doubt in my mind now that the man standing in front of me was the Ben I’d known as a child, the Ben who stood by my side no matter what danger was laid out in front of us. The Ben I’d thought I’d thought I’d lost forever.

The three of us turned from one another and came face to face with the Emperor himself. Old, wrinkly and decaying, he was propped up somehow by machinery. I had never felt so much darkness in my life, making the inkling that lay inside me look like a single grain of sand on Tatooine. Ben, Rey and I raised our lightsabers together, ready to take what was possibly our last stand.

“Stand together,” Palpatine growled, “Die together.” He raised his hands, using the Force to shove the lightsabers from our hands and pull the three of us towards him. We landed roughly on our knees in front of him. From Ben and Rey, a sudden burst of Force energy connecting Palpatine’s fingers to them found its way into his body. The three of us watched as his decaying fingers grew back whole, I grimaced in both disgust and confusion. “The life-force of your bond…” Palpatine began in wonder as he watched his hands come back to life, “A dyad in the Force. A power like life itself. Unseen for generations. And now the power of two restores the one, true Emperor.” “Over my dead body,” I blurted out, struggling against the hold I was in.

“Ah,” Palpatine’s unsettling eyes fell on me, “The last Kenobi. You are of use to me too,” he moved his other hand towards me and raised me in the air, pulling me towards him. I fought to wriggle out of his grip to no avail until I was mere inches away from him. He was even more disgusting up close. “For years I’ve reached out to you, waiting for you to realize what you truly are.” “What are you talking about?” I grunted, still trying to get away from him. “My dear child,” the Emperor said a little too softly for my comfort, “Have you not always wondered how your dreams came to you?” My blood ran cold and my movements ceased as I registered his words. “You were…you caused my nightmares?” “Your grandfather could not be turned, your mother escaped my grasp, but you,” he gave a wicked smile, “I knew held the potential to be a most powerful Sith. All you needed was to be shown.” At every turning point in my life, my nightmares had changed to reflect what I was going through. I’d held a dying Poe in my arms when I thought I’d lost him on Jakku, I’d seen my mother dead just after she’d passed…All my fears about being a leader had materialized in my subconscious as I’d stood surrounded by the bloody bodies of Resistance soldiers. In the past few months, my attacks had been so intense and sudden. It all made sense now. As Palpatine ascended, so did my nightmares. He’d controlled them from the very beginning. He’d placed the lies in my head and tried to convince me that his darkness was my own.

It was him.

It had never been me. “You’re right,” I replied with an unexpected laugh, “You did show me. The darkness that’s inside of me doesn’t belong to me…it’s not even there. You only tried to make me think it was.” For the first time in a long time, I believed in myself. I knew with certainty that I wasn’t what my thoughts told me I was, I was what my heart knew to be true. I was a Jedi.

“I’ll never join you,” I said, steel lacing my voice.

“Then as each Kenobi has fallen,” Palpatine growled, “So shall you. But not before you watch your friends die.” Using the Force to hold me at his side, he reached out with his other and began to extract the life force out of Ben and Rey. The blue energy flowed out of their bodies and into Palpatine’s with me kicking and yelling as I tried to help. I attempted to will the Force to my advantage with no success, their bond was too strong to be broken. All I could do was listen helplessly to Rey’s screams and Palpatine’s cackle.

When he was done, both Rey and Ben collapsed against the stone floor. Rather than drop me, Palpatine raised me up flat on my back to stare at the sky. The ensuing battle above was a disheartening sight, so many of our fighters were being blown to pieces by the Imperial fleet. It was everything I had feared may happen.

“Your pitiful rebellion has taken their final stand,” Palpatine said from beneath me, “And you have failed.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I fought against the dark thought that one of the ships I was watching burst into flames was Poe. I told myself that I’d have felt it if he’d died, but with each death that occurred above me I still felt a deep pain course through my body. Why had I thought this was a good idea? I’d led everyone to their deaths, including myself. I had failed not only the Resistance and Mom’s legacy, I’d failed the galaxy.

Suddenly I was tossed to the ground, landing harshly and scraping my cheek against the rough stone. I landed next to Ben with a groan, quickly opening and shutting my eyes to try and focus on him. “Ben, wake up,” I moaned, raising a weak arm and shaking him, “Wake up, c’mon.” The Emperor came forward on his own legs, admiring his new and improved body. “Look what you have made,” he said, announcing his full return the hundreds of bodies of Sith that stood in the stands of what now felt like a gladiatorial ring.

Ben began to rouse with deep breaths, he opened his eyes and turned his head to me. He clumsily rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. The two of us faced Palpatine who in turn raised a hand that sent us both back into the air.

“As once I fell,” Palpatine growled lowly, “So falls the last Skywalker and Kenobi.” With a flick of his hand, Ben and I went flying backwards towards a chasm filled with lightning and smoke. Just as I began to fall down it, I reached both arms out, one to grab onto the edge and one to grab my brother’s hand. I successfully gripped one while the other slipped through my fingers. “BEN!” I shrieked as I watched him bounce off of rocks into the great beyond. I silently sobbed, I had gained him only to lose him again.

With one hand and a new determination, I swung my other arm over the edge with a cry and began to pull myself up. T here was still a fight to be had.

“Do not fear this feeble attack, my faithful,” I could hear Palpatine speaking to his disciples, “Nothing will stop the return of the Sith!” I had just pulled my body over the edge when I saw Palpatine extend his hands to the sky, sending a stream of Force lightning into the sky. I could feel the fear from our pilots as I watched the ships fail and fall out of the sky.

“No,” I whispered, “No!” I stood to my feet, shot my hand out, summoned my lightsaber into my hand and stalked towards the Emperor. Of course, as soon as he saw me approaching him ready to strike, he dropped one hand towards me and struck me with Force lightning meant for the fleet. I screamed out as it hit me, but was content to take it if it meant saving someone above me. I fell and writhed against the ground as the lightning shredded every nerve in my body, the pain unbearable and continuously heaped on.

When it stopped, my brain felt fuzzy and the smoke coming off of me invaded all my senses. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to regain my breath, every part of me ached deeper than I could believe. I let out a whimper as I tried to roll onto my back, landing with a groan. I could sense that Rey was next to me, though it hurt too much to turn my head and look at her. Instead, I stared up at the battle above. I watched Palpatine’s attack seep into the bones of every ship, rendering it useless in the air.

“Poe,” I whimpered, tears sliding down my cheeks, “I’m so sorry.”

I could feel the weight of the ring he’d given me tucked under my robes against my chest. The future we’d dreamed of was slipping away with each passing second. The children we’d dreamed of having together turned to dust. The house we’d wanted to build crumbled. The years we’d wanted to spend growing old together somewhere peaceful passed by. I turned back time by only an hour or so, when we’d held each other for the last time. When I’d pulled him to me and kissed him harder than I ever had. The ghost of his lips still rested against mine, if I tried hard enough I could still feel them. The knowledge that if I gave up, I wouldn't be holding up my end of our promise to return to each other, made me want to try anything to survive.

“Help me,” I whispered, calling out to my grandfather for the first time in a long time. He’d ceased his appearances to me for a while with no explanation but if ever there was a time I needed him, it was now. “Help me, I can’t do this.” “Yes you can,” the familiar voice replied to me, “You have always been able to, you’ve just needed to believe you could.” My lips weary lifted in an almost smile, Obi-Wan hadn’t abandoned me.

“Reach out…” “Y/n,” Rey called out softly, her voice oddly peaceful, “I can hear them.” “What?” I mumbled, still trying to hold onto the connection with my grandfather.

“I can hear them, the Jedi…”

Remembering how hard we’d worked on that part of our training and failed, I was shocked to hear she’d succeeded but eager to join her. “Be with me,” I called out, “Be with me.”

Everything around me faded, even Rey.

All my senses came alive.

I could feel their presences without being able to see them.

They were with us.

“Y/n.”

A familiar voice filled my ears, one I hadn’t heard in decades and never thought I’d hear again. A voice I’d thought I’d forgotten long ago.

“Mama?” It was Sola, my birth mother.

“My love,” she greeted me, “My brave girl, how hard you’ve fought…” “Show me,” I whispered, “Show me how to save them.” “How have you saved everyone else?” My head was spinning, but the answer still came as quick as it would have if I had been in perfect shape. “Together.” “They’re all fighting with you, Y/n,” my mother said, “And so are we. So am I.” I weakly smiled, there was so much I wished to say to her. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was, "Mama..."

"I know, my girl..." she replied, "Go fight for what you love." I heard various voices flooding my head, the Jedis who had come before me, until I finally heard a familiar one. “Y/n, rise and bring back the balance,” Luke urged, “Don’t be afraid.” “I’m not,” I grunted as I began to pull my weight up, “I’m not.”

For the first time in my life, I truly wasn’t afraid. Every minute of my life had been building up to the moment I was in and nothing coursed through my veins except determination to save my loved ones from being killed at the hands of Palpatine. I rose to a crouched position just as Rey had gathered her strength as well, the two of us looking to one another. I slid my hand over hers and nodded, affirming what we’d both heard. It was up to us to end the chaos.

Rey stood and shot out her hand, summoning and igniting her saber as I did the same. Side by side, we stood in front of Palpatine, who clearly hadn’t expected us to regain our strength. His yellow eyes bore into me, but I was too exhausted to be unsettled by them. “Let your death,” he began, “Be the final word in the story of rebellion.” Palpatine extended his fingers and let Force lightning fly from them, Rey and I met it with our sabers. I let out a groan as I fought to keep my balance, each nerve in my body was still screaming out. I fought to keep my balance as I deflected Palpatine’s attack.

“You are nothing,” he yelled to us over the crackling of the lightning, “A scavenger girl and a pitiful orphan are no match for the power in me. I am all the Sith.”

Even through my concentration, I could sense Rey trying to convey something to me. She had a plan, all I had to do was trust her. “And we,” she shot back. Believing I already knew what she was thinking, I reached out a hand to where the lightsaber Ben had been using had rested. When I didn’t find it, I smiled and prepared to take my position. “Are all the Jedi.”

As Rey ignited the second saber with a grunt, I dropped to my knees in front of her and held my lightsaber up in front of the two. Together, they formed a star like symbol. Rey and I moved forward slowly, pushing back against the lightning with every bit of strength we had. My knees burned as they scraped against the stone, my arms felt ready to give out, but I kept going. For everyone I’d ever loved or lost, for all the lives sacrificed in this bloody war, I kept going.

Palpatine’s expression turned uneasy as we inched closer, Rey and I pushed forward once more and began to deflect his own lightning back at him. The energy of it pushed back his cloak and began to hit his face, peeling away at all the repair Ben and Rey’s bond had just done. The Sith Lord began to groan out as it became clear that he was losing. All it would take with a little bit more…

Rey and I shoved again in time together and watched as Palpatine’s skin decayed right off his body. With a cry, he began to disintegrate before our eyes. One more push was all it took for his body to disappear entirely and send a gust of wind through the room.

It was over.

I blindly switched off my saber and let it fall from my hand, collapsing on my stomach as I fought to catch my breath. My body was tingling with pain and my head pounded as the blood rushed to it. “Rey?” I called out, my throat cracking from dryness. When I received no answer, I turned my head and opened my eyes to see Rey fall to the ground. I sensed the life draining from her, “Rey!”

I struggled to roll over without a great deal of pain, but got to my knees as quick as I could. I crawled forward with quick breaths, fighting to get to her as I mumbled her name. I weakly took her into my arms and sat with her head cradled in my lap. “No, no, no, Rey. Rey, wake up, c’mon,” I pathetically tapped her cheek, tearing up as it didn’t work, “Rey, please…”

My voice failed me as I realized she was already gone.

--------

A/N: You'd think I was done, but I've still got some surprises saved for the end 😉 Hope you liked this one, let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be tagged!

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron x female reader #Poe Dameron imagine #Star Wars fanfiction #Star Wars imagine #flashing gif tw

[xhanisai]

My Ring Your Earrings

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Mister Bug X Lady Noire

Prompt - ‘Ring And Earrings’

Summary:

Kicking the shy, bashful boy within him a million miles away, Mister Bug mustered up as much of his iconic, ‘smooth-as-silk’ Chat Noir persona and brought the girl’s ringed hand to his mouth. He allowed himself to deliver a tender peck on the finger that adorned his jewel, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb and then flashed his traditional smirk.

“Not as good as my ring on your finger, ma belle,”

~(x)~

.

.

.

.

The first time that they’ve swapped their miraculous, the heroic pair was way too overwhelmed and super hyper-focused on the battle at hand to pay attention to the finer details of each others’ suits.

Now?

With time on their hands on one of their regular nightly patrols and the intentions to master each other’s miraculous to prepare for situations similar to Reflekdoll in the future?

Without the flurry of hot adrenaline coursing through their veins and their minds occupied with duty?

Now they can finally focus on the little things.

.

“M-M-My Lady!?” Mister Bug couldn’t help the awkward exclaim, his voice teetering to an embarrassingly high pitch and his lips wobbling with fluster. Yet, it didn’t deter his partner from scrutinising him further, her clawed, slender fingers remaining in their position, tangled within his soft, golden locks so that one of his ears were visible.

“...Huh...so they really are pierced...” Lady Noire murmured quietly, her pretty pink lips still pursed in thoughts, her even cuter feline fang barely peeking out and the boy couldn’t help but pray to the Gods more reliable than Plagg that her newly enhanced hearing didn’t pick up on his elevated, pounding heartbeat. Or if she did, he hoped that she wouldn't point it out to avoid him liquefying into a puddle of embarrassment and slipping down the drains and into the sewers.

The coolness of his ring which she was wearing right here right now, contrasting against his heated, reddened ear which could’ve melted at her touch, sent his entire brain to complete overdrive and the tender shyness within him was visible through the blossoming flush that spread throughout the apples of his cheeks.

‘Mon Dieu...she’s so gorgeous and so pretty and she’s wearing MY ring and holy shit she’s still looking at me with those beautiful, pretty eyes-’

“-I assumed that the miraculous transformed into a clip-on for you or something...heh...now that would have been silly...” Mister Bug finally tuned back to his partner’s musings, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side which only made him lean further into her soothing touch.

She was so warm.

“Yeah...they’re pierced. I’ve had them pierced for quite a while...” He couldn’t help the small grin that slipped onto his face, indulging in the seemingly intimate moment and the way that his Lady parted her plush lips at his words.

It was taking him everything to not kiss her.

“I see. It looks good on you,” She returned his smile, her thumb stroking the powerful jewel on his lobe and her braided, Rapunzel-like hair twitching with amusement behind her and her cheeks blooming with sakura.

Kicking the shy, bashful boy within him a million miles away, Mister Bug mustered up as much of his iconic, ‘smooth-as-silk’ Chat Noir persona and brought the girl’s ringed hand to his mouth. He allowed himself to deliver a tender peck on the finger that adorned his jewel, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb and then flashed his traditional smirk.

“Not as good as my ring on your finger, ma belle,” Though his heart was ricocheting within his ribcage, his tone was low and deep, firing up his partner’s cheeks with even more colour and intensity.

‘You so thought I was hot, right, Bug~?’

“H-Ha! Rings look good on anyone.” She snatched her hand away from his loosened grip and delivered a soft flick against his nose, whipping her head to the side. His grin simply widened.

“But that’s no ordinary ring~” If he had his belt tail, it would have waggled behind him like a cheeky feline ready to pounce on their prey. He crept closer, into her personal space, eating up the way her face continued to colour. “It’s my ring...doesn’t that mean you’re also mine? My Lady~?”

.

He didn’t expect the sudden hand grasping his chin, forcing him to bend down to Lady Noire’s height and merely a breath away from those tempting, sugary lips that were practically begging to have its gloss kissed right off.

.

“You’re wearing my earrings. Does that mean you’re mine?”

.

The smirk she let out was borderline devilish and saucy, her eyes like crescent lights against the black of her mask and the moonlight glinting against her pearly white teeth.

Mister Bug was a goner.

The lovesick, gooey boy made a huge comeback, stomping away what little sass and courage he had left, consequently turning him into a flustered mess right on the spot and his emerald greens virtually glittered, matching his brilliantly red complexion and blending in with his polka-dotted mask.

And then, Lady Noire delivered the killing blow, rubbing a thumb under the ridge of his eye and then grazed her claw against his bottom lip, her smile never wavering as he audibly gasped from the delicious sensations.

“Heh...silly Buggaboy,”

.

And then she left, leaving behind a squealing puddle of black and red.

"Yes!!! I'm yours, My Lady~!!!"

.

.

.

~(x)~

#my writing #my fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #mister bug #misterbug #lady noire #ladynoire #ladynoir #misternoire #istg im not tagging anymore ship names for the same two people LMAOOOO #ml fanfics #ml fanfiction

[tumbling-darkling]

Miraculous Ghosts

Danny and friends visit Paris and come across trouble, as well as the cities local superheroes.

Lately, Hawkmoth has been recycling villains. There are only so many people in Paris and not everyone gets emotionally vulnerable strongly enough or long enough to be akumatized. Those that do, and commonly like Mr. Pidgeon, usually had a certain fixation that was easy to exploit. The thing was, both Marienette and Chat Noir already knew their weakness, the items that would most likely get akumatized, the whole schtick. So the battles were really fast and easy.

A new face always had to be met with caution, the lack of knowledge regarding the person was dangerous and if the pair wasn’t careful, they could end up losing the battle. And their Miraculous.

With the start of summer came tourist season, and tourists could be victims of akumatization. Which seemed to be the case within the first week. 3 villains, all new faces, but the pair had gotten lucky with the similar powers that the heroes had faced before and the three were all defeated in a timely manner.

There was a short week of nothing happening.

And then all hell broke loose.

—————————————————————

Marienette knew the start of the tourist season had begun just based on the filled streets of strange faces, sunglasses, cameras, and the use of foreign languages. This also was noticed based on how busy her parents' shop had become, and how rarely she was managing to escape outside to enjoy some of summer's freedom. The good thing was she was able to brush up on some of her English, since the tourists usually spoke the common American language and the experience was always welcome to help boost her grades in the upcoming year. Even if it was a few months away.

She’d figured out the best way to sneak off during any attacks was to ‘use the bathroom’ or ‘accidently’ make a mess and excuse herself to clean up. It had worked during the first week and she didn’t have to do anything the past week since Hawkmoth seemed to take a break. She finished serving a young pair of Americans, a tall girl with orange hair, and a lanky boy nearly the same height with raven black hair.

She had to admit, some Americans had a certain charm, but the bustle of the kitchen quickly caught her attention as she was back to serving the next person in line.

Just as Chloe waltzed in, basically knocking the american boy over as she strutted to the front of the line, causing people to cast glares in her direction. The boy hissed when he fell, the American girl offering to help him up in English as he shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off as Marienette went to deal with the walking form of pure rich privilege. “Urg, Dupain-Cheng’s dingy little cafe? Of course she works here, it just smells like burnt bread.” She huffed.

Marienette bristled, but put on her customer service smile, noticing the poor Americans victim to Chloe leaving the shop. She was hoping to offer them a replacement after dealing with Chloe but it was a little late now. “Ma’am, unless you are here to pick up an order, you will have to wait in line like everyone else.” She strained.

“Ma’am? I am Chloe Dubois! I don’t need to wait in line like some sort of peasant! Just give me whatever you didn’t make.”

Marienette had to swallow down any returning insults and put down one of their most expensive items, handing it over with a clearly strained smile, “have a nice day.”

Chloe huffed with her baked goods in hand but left as soon as she appeared, allowing Marienette some relief. Very little damage. A little annoyance but nothing worthy of an akuma-.

An explosion was heard from outside, and Marienette groaned internally.

She just had to jinx it.

—————————————————————

Ladybug dove off to the side as the villain shot out a ray of white, plasma-like energy. Adrien, fighting as Chat Noir, and his partner were having a hell of a time with this dude. He spotted the chaos on the news, the villain calling himself ‘Black Hole’ and giving his poor Lady a hard time. When he finally arrived on the scene, he wasn’t able to do much either.

The villain was basically a godly powerhouse, floating in the air, shooting burning rays of heated plasma, or even ice! Ice and plasma! Sometimes he MIXED the two beams to create an even WORSE beam! Whenever either of the heroes got close enough to land a hit, their punches and kicks would go right through him. Then he would DISAPPEAR. REAPPEARING AND LANDING ANOTHER HEAVY BLOW. He would fly around like gravity was non-existent, and these abilities didn’t stop there. Every so often, he would yank out this thermos looking thing and shoot out these wormholes. Or… possibly black holes. Calling them black holes felt wrong though… since they glowed green and swirled before disappearing after a few moments.

The villain's outfit was a change of pace too. It was impossible to figure out his age since he was completely covered in a thick fabric material that reminded him of space suits. Yet looked a lot less bulky than actual space suits, thin yet sturdy metal covered his forearms, and formed a backpack that was attached by a wide metal collar that spread to his collarbone and slightly covered his shoulders, as well as a metal strap that wrapped around right under his chest. A plated, metal belt circled his waist with a clip for the green black hole thermos, and thigh high boots with a similar fabric to his suit covered most of his legs, thick plastic looking platform soles attached at the feet. Black bands wrapped around the ankles of the boots. A helmet covered his entire face, a metal frame covering the bottom half like a muzzle while the top was a tinted glass dome following the shape of his head, the inside of it entirely black except for the eerie glow of a single, left eye. The helmet had a tube on the back of the helmet that connected to his backpack, but neither he or Ladybug could figure out if it was essential or for decoration. His entire colouring was monotone, much bleaker than their previous villains. His suit was black, the boots, forearm cuffs, belt, backpack and collar were all a middle shade of grey, the only flash of colour being the glow of the single toxic green eye amongst the darkness of the helmet.

The dude was disturbing. He didn’t make any sound, in fact he seemed to ABSORB the sound around him. Like they were in space.

Paris was getting destroyed more and more by the second and the two didn’t know what to do. The Lady’s lucky charm turned into a thermos, which she didn’t have a clue how to use in the situation in front of them. Maybe it was a hint? A clue about soup? Or getting the villains thermos?

The problem with the last idea was that neither he or Ladybug could TOUCH this villain. And each of them were getting worse and worse for wear by the second. He could tell Ladybug was getting ready to get some sort of help, but who could make something untouchable… touchable? Chat even tried to use cataclysm on the villain's thermos while Ladybug had distracted him, but he twisted at the last moments and grabbed Chat's hand, draining cataclysm before he tossed him aside like it was nothing.

Another blast of plasma sent the two tumbling away from each other, and then a blast of ice caught Chat off guard. Cold shot up his arm as his muscles convulsed, a scream caught in his throat as the ice trapped his arm in such a tight and sturdy prison. He twisted to try and use his free arm to claw the other out of the ice, a shadow in the corner of his vision causing him to twist and jolt in surprise as the villain stood right in front of him. The glowing green eye was cold as it bore into him, and the villain grew closer and closer, drifting off the ground and absorbing every noise around him, the air around them dropping to freezing temperatures. Chats breath formed in front of him as gasps, panic clear in the quick breaths, fear intensifying as the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood roaring through his veins.

The villain's hand shot out and grabbed his free one- the one with his miraculous.

Chat heard Ladybug cry out as the villain gripped onto the ring, a quick glance showing she too was trapped.

That she was next.

Chat tried to keep his fingers curled, but he was battered and weak, and the villain hadn’t even broken a sweat during their fight. Prying open his fingers was easy, the ring vulnerable. This was it. He used cataclysm too soon and now he was powerless. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t save anyone. He was a failure. This was the end of Paris.

They lost.

—————————————————————

Fucking. Vlad.

This entire trip had Danny on edge and it was all because of Vlad.

At first, he thought maybe, for once, Vlad wasn’t being a piece of shit when offering the family a fully paid trip to France for two weeks. He was suspicious. He probably just wanted the family out of town to do some shady shit. But a two week trip to France wasn’t the WORST thing a man could do. Especially in comparison to kidnapping and cloning.

But then his parents got sick. A common flu. Right before the trip. And they wanted Jazz and him to experience Paris. Then Vlad offered to be a chaperone.

It was all a play to get Danny alone for two weeks and try and manipulate him.

He did manage to get Tucker and Sam to tag along, something about friends being his family and the two unused tickets his parents left behind. But Vlad knew how to separate the group. How to corner Danny at the worst moments and whisper annoying remarks in his ear as he tried to get away.

He survived a week. He only had one more week to go. Tucker and Sam were off checking out some places for lunch while Jazz and Danny went to pick up sweets for everyone to share after their meal.

Vlad was off doing who knew what so Danny had put him to the back of his mind.

The cafe they found was… well it smelled incredible. There were so many baked goods on display and the air was filled with the warm and sweet smell of the goodies. He let Jazz do most of the talking, she wanted to practice her French and Danny had recently discovered that being dubbed the ghost king meant that now he had a natural grasp on all verbal languages, including the dead ones. This meant his speech in French was almost flawless, and his understanding was like he was listening to someone speak English. He couldn’t read other languages though, just speak them. He was told though by a few locals he had an odd accent. It wasn’t an american one, just… odd.

So Jazz ordered the treats and the pair was headed out to meet Danny’s friends.

Then some blonde girl with way too much make-up basically knocked him to the ground, not even sending him a glance that indicated she knew what she did. It was annoying, but he dealt with bullies on a daily basis back at Amity Park. Well… used to. But he knew better than to waste any thought on some jerk like her. He sadly looked at the ruined cat paw shaped cookies, the icing ruined and the cookies crushed under his weight when he fell.

Standing up with the help of Jazz, they left the shop as Danny insisted on finding somewhere to wash off the icing stuck to his shirt. He liked this shirt too… he hoped it wouldn’t stain too badly. It was better than ectoplasm at least, that stuff needed to be burned out, there was no such thing as washing out ectoplasm.

Jazz asked to help, but Danny brushed her off, telling her he could easily clean himself off by himself.

And then Vlad chose that moment to corner him.

—————————————————————

“Hello Daniel.”

Danny splashed water wildly as he spun around to glare at the older Halfa, hissing out an ‘Ancients!’ in surprise. “What the hell, Vlad?” He spat, “sneaking up on a kid in the bathroom? I should just call the police and tell them about all that stalking you like to do.”

“Aren’t you tired of this childish game?” He hummed.

“Not really, seeing as I’m a child and I love games,” Danny sneered.

“I’m older, more experienced, and stronger. I am also patient, little badger. And it’s easy to wear you down. By the end of this trip, you are going to be begging to be my-.”

“Son? Pet? Little slave that does everything you ask? Sorry, Vladdy, but I ain’t the type to listen to crazy fruit loops. How about you go enjoy the company of your French rich friends like that Agreste dude instead of stalking me and trying to get with my mom and kill my dad. Might do you some good to make more friends than just your cat.”

“Oh Daniel, you throw your petty insults but I know ways to break you even further. You know, a lot of accidents happen in Paris. Terrible things.”

Danny felt his eyes flash as he spun on his heel, “listen to me, if you even consider-!”

“Not to mention your brand new ghostly responsibilities as… the ghost king? Imagine that. A child as the king. You don’t even know everything about ghosts.”

“Neither do you!” Danny spat.

“Oh but I know so much more. And I could easily teach you-.”

“Just shut up!”

“When you mess up, when the ghost zone begins to fall apart, you will wish you took my offer, but I may not be as forgiving when that happens.”

“I said shut up!”

“And we both know the moment the ghost zone falls apart, so will this world. All because a boy became king and didn’t take help he was so graciously offered.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Something inside him shifted, and Danny suddenly felt his mind cloud, a deep voice echoed his mind.

“A cruel man harassing a young teen that wants nothing to do with him. A shame when someone can’t take a hint.

Black Hole. I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to show this old man that he never should consider looking in your direction ever again.

All I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Do this for me, and Vlad Masters will never be an issue for you ever again.”

Danny’s clouded mind and building rage smirked at the offer, his voice echoing as he glanced up at Vlad who was giving him a confused look. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness engulfed him and then his memory began to fail him.

—————————————————————

A boomerang slammed into Black Hole’s head, causing it to jerk to the side and a small crack formed on the glass that was hit. The metal boomerang dropped to the ground and Black Hole slowly looked down at it as a robotic voice cried out from it, “ghost detected!” And then a recorded voice spouted out, “take that, spook!”

Black Hole’s head slightly tilted at the noise it made, a hand subconsciously rubbing the crack it left behind. Then he twisted his gaze back to Chat Noir, going back to taking the hero’s miraculous.

Then a shout came from behind Black Hole and Chat caught the eyes of a teenage girl yelling and holding a bat over her head. Black Hole twisted, his body turning that transparent look whenever Chat or Ladybug had tried to hit him before, and Chat knew that it was useless. “No! Stop! Get out of here-!” He screamed at the citizen, but stopped when the bat connected with the villain's head and sent him flying into a wall.

Chat was at a loss for words for once in his life, watching the villain slowly pry himself from the wall from being hit by a baseball bat when he and Lady couldn’t land a single hit. He looked back at the citizen and shrieked as she raised the bat above her head and swung down at him, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. She hit something, causing it to shatter and then- his hand was free!

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand in awe and then back at the girl, “who the heck are you?”

She huffed, dropping the bat casually on her shoulder, “Sam Manson. Friend of the idiot that didn’t do his research before taking a trip here. I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier.”

Chat blinked, “you- you know that’s your friend? And knew this would happen?”

Sam shrugged, “the booo-merang is never wrong. And yeah, my friend there is not exactly the most emotionally stable person on the planet. Sorry it took us a while to get here. You guys really do move fast.”

Chat just opened and closed his mouth a few times, then yelled as she suddenly swung the bat again and smacked the villain in the gut as he got close during their exchange, knocking him sideways but not down like the first time. Black Hole turned again, making a snarling sound before he was blasted by some sort of green ray and sent flying sideways, rolling along the pavement before smashing into a car. Another teen jogged over with Ladybug behind him, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezed, “I have ran… way too much for this to be considered a vacation.”

“M’Lady-, what is going on?” Chat asked.

“This is Tucker, and his friend Sam, and they know how to help,” Ladybug quickly explained, glancing back at Black Hole. “We need to draw his attention and get that thermos off of him, then Sam and Tucker can use this,” she held up the thermos from her lucky charm, “and we can get his akuma.”

“Akuma is in the thermos, knock it off,” Chat summarized. He heard his miraculous beeping, a sign he was close to his limit.

“Let’s end this fast.”

—————————————————————

Ladybug held the booo-merang in one hand as the two teens and Chat drew Black Hole’s attention, the teens equipped with weapons that seemed to get past some of Black Holes abilities.

She narrowed her gaze, waiting for the perfect moment, then threw the weapon, watching it arch in the air then knock the thermos off of the villain's waist. The thermos clattered to the ground and drew his attention, he quickly twisted and dove to try and retrieve it, which was when a bright beam erupted from the polka dot thermos Ladybug had given the teens. The beam caught the villain's legs and he was tugged back, his form pulling towards it like taffy as he twisted and a horrid scream of anger burst from him. He tried to escape it, flailing and reaching for anything to hang on to, but in a matter of seconds he was pulled into the canister and Sam slammed the lid shut. The screaming stopped and Ladybug made her way over to Black Hole’s thermos, stomping on it and crushing it, releasing the Akuma hidden inside. With a flick of her wrist her lucky charm turned back into its original form, dumping Black Hole onto the street, then the butterfly was caught and purified, and another click of her miraculous, she let the little bug flutter away harmlessly. With a shout, ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’, everything around them was engulfed in black and red as the damages were undone around them.

At last, the villain's form was released of Hawkmoth's influence and it left a lanky teen laying on the street. He slowly sat up with a groan and a hand to his head and she then realized it was the same teen as from the shop. So once again, this was Chloe’s fault. She turned her attention to the two teens that helped her, noticing Chat let out a hasty farewell and thanks and disappeared around a corner. “Thank you, both of you. Without your help… well, without your help we may have lost that battle. But how in the world did you do that?”

“What the fuck just happened?” The teen groaned, “I feel like the booo-merang smacked me in the head like… fifty times.”

“That’s because I may have smacked you a few times with the fenton creep stick,” Sam shrugged as she helped her friend up who gave her wide eyes in return.

“You fucking what?”

Tucker took a step forward to answer Ladybug’s question, “let's just say back in our town, we have very specific supervillains that have abilities that make it hard for regular attacks to land. So we have specialized gear. Sam and I did a bit of research before heading here and figured if any of us got Akumatized, we may reflect some of those traits.”

“I… see…” Ladybug hummed, “and where did you say you were all from?” The three cast a few glances between each other, but before any of them could answer, her miraculous beeped angrily as she quickly realized she was out of time. “Thank you again for your help, if we could meet again to exchange some of that tech to make sure this never happens again-,” she quickly tried to set up a meet up before Sam held up a hand.

“This won’t happen again. A lot of what happened here is very unique to Amity, so once we finish our vacation, you won’t see this kind of thing ever again.”

Ladybug only had more questions but the angry beeping only forced her to nod and bid a quick farewell before getting out of sight to let Tiki take a rest. Marienette held out a few macaroons for Tiki as her thoughts swirled in her head. The questions about the odd American trio and how they knew how to deal with a villain as unique as Black Hole.

She may be able to corner them later. They did say they had to ‘finish their vacation.’

And in the meantime, it was time to do some research on this place called ‘Amity’.

—————————————————————

Danny didn’t remember a lot of what happened while he was the villain, Black Hole. It was like a dream, he kinda remembered the feeling, vague details, but nothing specific.

What he wished he remembered was whatever he did to Vlad. He must have done something because his memories cut out right after Vlad harassed him in the bathroom and after the event, the froot loop avoided him during the entire trip. Even refused to make eye contact!

What he would give just for a few seconds of that memory! Or for someone to have recorded it!

For now though he got to reap the rewards, flashing his eyes green when Vlad would glance over and causing the man to flinch. Oh man, he was going to abuse this newfound intimidation ability till the bitter end.

#Dp #danny phantom #danny #fenton #phantom #Danny fenton #miraculous ladybug #crossover #one shot #marienette #adrien agreste #marienette dupain cheng #ladybug #chat noir #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #vlad masters #danny gets akumatized #Ghost speak danny #This kid is a powerhouse #Be glad his friends are smart #Because without them hawk moth would’ve won #Hawkmoth afterwards: wtf just happened #Idiot didn’t realize he just got the fucking ghost king #Danny of course is a space themed supervillain #With ghost powers to add on #Hawkmoth gave him powers thinking he was a scrawny kid and just made Danny way more overpowered

[jgvfhl]

hi I'm here to request again hehe 🥰 can I get "hot stuff" with Fives, but reader is the one who calls him that I stead of the other way around?? I loved the other one you did 🥺🥺🥺

YEEEEEE i am so happy you liked the previous one 😊💖🌸💖🌸💖 finals just started so this one took a bit to finish so THANK YOU FOR PATIENCE BUT I THINK IT'S WORTH IT!! 💙

Once again, the Pet Names prompts are here!

It was unusually hot on Coruscant that day, and that meant the ice cream was flying out of the freezers, the door was barely closing as people came in and out. It meant good business, which was great for your boss, but it basically meant twice the work for the same credit you’d get if five customers showed up. Ah well. At least you had the excuse to stick your hands in the freezer when scooping out orders.

About an hour before closing, miraculously, the shop had emptied. You leaned back against the front counter while your coworker Keera hauled in fresh cartons of ice cream from the back. You’d replaced them once already earlier, so it was her turn. She didn’t think much of the heat, but then again, togruta never did.

“Ooh, heads up,” she said, closing the freezer.

You turned to follow her gaze and saw a group of five clone troopers walking down the street towards the shop. You smiled. You had been wondering when Fives would find the excuse to drag his brothers down here. At least he’d done you the favor of not arriving in the midst of the lunch break high.

Echo recognized you as soon as they stepped inside. “Fives. Tell me you didn’t make us walk all the way down here so you could see your girlfriend.”

Fives beamed at you, barely looking at his brother as he replied, “Echo, if you’ve got complaints, the office of Get Karked is always open.”

“Play nice,” you warned, but there was barely any bite to your words, and you were still smiling as Fives strolled up to the counter.

He wasn’t in armor today. He and Echo were in dress greys, and Echo’s jacket was open while Fives had just removed his altogether, down to just a grey tank (which you may or may not have wanted off as well, but could you really be blamed?). The others were in full armor, their helmets clipped to their belts. You recognized Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase, the last of whom was already staring longingly at the tubs of ice cream behind the glass.

“Hey, beautiful,” Fives said, quietly, just for you.

“Hey, hot stuff,” you replied in kind, leaning over the counter to give him a quick kiss.

“Can hot stuff get some cold stuff?” he asked.

You laughed. “Only if you ask nicely.”

He batted his eyes at you dramatically, leaning a little closer. “Could I please have a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles?”

Behind him, Echo added, “Can I get a spoon to gag myself?” which made Fives’ pleading facade drop in a second as he rolled his eyes, and that in turn made you snort another laugh.

“Only if you order ice cream to go with it,” Keera told him. She was fairly used to Fives sauntering in to steal your attention. Bless her for putting up with you both.

You smiled, patting Fives’ hand on the counter. “You have to move so we can help your brothers. I think Hardcase is gonna gnaw through the glass if he doesn’t get his sundae.”

The man in question looked up at his name, then grinned a little sheepishly. “What?”

Fives pouted at you, but did move over. “Oh, almost forgot,” he said, elbowing Echo aside to talk to you. “You wanna add two straws for that milkshake?”

You stifled a giggled at Echo sticking his tongue out in disgust, but eventually nodded. “Sure thing, Fives.”

@minchai inspired me with her lil coffee shop blurb, but it was so hot today I needed ice cream 😋 @nl13 @darth-void

#my writing #my fanfic #tcw fanfic #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x f!reader #echo being a little shit #bc he deserves it

[tale-xistime]

“before i wanted nothing to do with you; now i can’t imagine my life without you” for Lizzington?

| So I saw THIS ⬇️…

https://tale-xistime.tumblr.com/post/656479243714330624/thecollectibles-shoe-studies-by-julia

…post and something about it just SCREAMED Red to me. I really wanted to do a fic with Red having these sock clips, and just with Reds fashion in general. When suddenly a little inkling in my mind was like, hey there’s a prompt buried somewhere that could go along with the direction you want to take this, so I looked, and here this was! So I hope everyone enjoys the concept of sock garters on Red as much as I do, and here is this! Also Spaders, thank you for the prompts you’ve sent and how patient you’ve been, and I hope you enjoy this my friend. |

Dressing impeccably is part of what makes the Concierge of Crime, the Concierge of Crime. Raymond Reddington has a routine he uses in the mornings to get dressed, and well, Liz just feels blessed to see it for the first time.

(She could get used to this.)

Last night got a little out of hand. But only in the best way possible. They were on an undercover op, playing as a couple. Their contact had given them the information they needed and left, leaving them to their own devices. They stayed together, and just simply talked. They ate dinner together, and drank enough wine to take the edge off, but not to be past the point of a clear mind. They sat for hours, long past the op’s completion, talking about various childhood stories, likes and dislikes, and then somehow miraculously, the conversation shifted to the topic of each other.

“Red, what do you think of me?”

She clearly remembered the way he had cocked his head, leaning in closer as if she were sharing a secret.

“In terms of what, Lizzie?”

“Just in terms of, viability as a partner. A romantic partner.”

This took Red aback, making him lean back from the table slightly. He swirled the glass of wine around, just to give his hands something to do as he tried to collect the right words.

“Intelligent. Breathtakingly beautiful, innately clever, kind, resourceful, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you Lizzie.” He finished quietly, looking down to the table, anywhere but at Lizzie.

“Mmm.” His reaction told her just what she was wondering, just what she needed to be confirmed. She felt emboldened by Red's compliments, and a daring, reckless, probably worst but possibly best idea that she had ever had began to form in her mind.

She was feeling brave tonight.

It didn’t take long watching him examine her curiously before she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to tell him.

(She was falling in love with him. She couldn’t say when it had happened, perhaps it had been when he had saved her life, maybe it was as recent as tonight or maybe she had just always loved him, from the second she descended upon his chained figure down in the box. She just had to realize it for herself.)

“I don’t want just any man though.” She said quietly, eyes cast downward. Shocking him out of his quite obvious inspection of her face. His eyebrows stuck together, their breath mingling over the table they were both leaning over. She looked back up to him, wondered what he was thinking from behind his confused expression.

She continued, talking quickly to get it all out in a rush, before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.

“I want one man. The only problem is I think he’s too scared, too scared to let go of his fears and self doubts to believe that I could want him too. Something real, unlike what I had with Tom.”

She steeled her nerves, figuring it was too late to turn back now as she traced her hand up from his knee, to rest on his inner thigh. Needing some way to cement in his mind who the subject matter could be. It worked.

His face had changed with every word she said, with every inch the pads of her fingertips climbed. He was bewildered, shaken, and almost hopeful.

His shock only grew as Liz took her other hand to gently guide his face, leaning him further over the table for his lips to align with hers. He was losing control, and while one part of him was reveling in letting Lizzie take control, reveling in what she was implying that she could want to be with him, that she could want him, the other half of him screamed to stop! Because he could only ever bring her pain, misery, and danger, when she deserved everything else pure and good in the world instead of his useless husk of a self-

“Lizzie,” he had gasped, just a breath away, wanting to do anything but talk. “It's too dangerous, you and me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do, especially if you were hurt by someone I unintentionally brought into your life, I would only ever put you in danger and I can’t-” His pleading was interrupted by her gentle but fervent yank on his jaw, her calm and determined eyes meeting his.

“Raymond,” she spoke his name, his God given name for the first time she could remember. Reaching her hand up higher on his thigh, she ran her fingers over his scalp. His eyes drifted closed at the sensation, eliciting a deep thrum from him.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, because before I wanted nothing to do with you, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m falling for you, and I need you. I want you. Let me in. We’ll protect each other and survive, thrive, just like we always do. Take me home. Let me show you how much I need you. How much I love you.”

She leaned in, meeting him halfway over their table and kissed him.

It was a chaste thing, their mouths only slightly sliding and slipping together.

They broke apart, eyes closed and forehead to forehead, unreasonably breathless and completely undone.

Her arms snaked around his shoulders, running her palms over his shorn hair to rest on his neck. His hands moved to rest on her knees, and before long he threw down a 20 and swept her out of the restaurant to his safe house.

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other on the drive, and barely made it past the door before his slacks were unbuttoned on the floor and her dress was unzipped and slung haphazardly on a doorknob.

It was the best sex she’d ever had.

Tom couldn’t hold a candle to Red. He knew just what she wanted, his talents extending far far beyond what even she had imagined. They just worked together. Perfectly.

“We’re gonna make a great team.”

She had never had a man be able to get her to see stars. Let alone twice back to back.

The various dreams and fantasies she had let play out in her mind before, well the real thing was just so much better.

She woke up this morning in his arms, warm and curled into his side, his nose nuzzled into her tousled hair. Her hands gently twitched to life against the curve of his spine, her eyes blinking open to the sun that streamed through the sheer curtains.

She awoke first out of the two of them, allowing her the experience of watching him slowly wake, cuddling as close to her as possible as he rested.

His face was youthful and slack, his mouth slightly open in a small snore.

It was glorious.

Red had eventually slowly awakened, looking more rested than she could ever remember.

She’d hugged him, and peppered his face with kisses, before he snagged her lips and pulled her onto him. His neck craned up to meet hers, hands lightly settled on her waist.

He’d pulled away, gently tucking her cascading hair behind her ear before whispering in his deepest and most graveled morning voice.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

Her heart swelled at the sight of him, at the sound of him.

“Good morning love.”

She settled against his chest, listening as his overwhelmed heart skipped a prompt beat due to her words.

They laid there for a while, Lizzie about to fall back peacefully asleep when suddenly Red shifted from under her.

“Is that really the time?” His line of sight had caught the glowing orange clock in the corner of the room, perched on a dresser.

“Oh shit, you have to meet your contact with last night's info right?”

Liz slid off Red, the covers pooling around her as he leapt to his feet.

“Yes. In under an hour.”

And with that he disappeared into his closet, occasionally throwing a piece of a suit onto the dresser.

Her mind wandered back to him, to his perfection, his skill. Which ultimately proved to be a disservice to herself, with every thought of last night and it’s activities, she was left craving more.

Red came back into the room, buck naked and bared for only her to see. That certainly didn’t help her in her effort to try and behave.

To try and occupy her, she watches him start to get ready, and quickly finds herself becoming fascinated with his dressing regiment. A process she quickly begins memorizing.

He pulls on a pair of black boxers first, (she tries not to let herself be disappointed by this complete loss of her new most favorite view) soon followed by impeccable black slacks.

A taunt leather belt, and white undershirt are next.

She watches in awe as he pulls on the shirt, his arms drifting up through the fabric first, hands stretching towards the rich cream of his smooth ceiling before helping to lift the bunched cloth past his shorn hair.

His head quickly follows with his calloused and capable hands help, the white of the shirts’ threads appearing to pool around his shoulders in one swift motion.

He situates the fabric to wash down his torso, now completely concealing his supple, and scarred skin from her.

He fists his button-up, sliding one arm and then the next through the crisp, snow white polyester. He turns to face her then, knowing that she’s watching with the utmost interest, cocking his head and examining the lust left plain on her face. Matching it with his own.

His eyes skim easily down her mainly bare body, just sitting there, plainly exposed on his sheets.

(His sheets!)

He can’t handle it anymore, knows that if he keeps looking at her softness he’ll crack, so he gulps and turns away. Trying to calm down the blush rising.

His nimble fingers make fast work of the buttons, and before long he swings on his favorite windowpane waistcoat, the silky fabric as jet-black as a moonless sky.

Her trance is broken by his soft murmur, just barely audible as his hand grabs a silver Rolex and fastens it to his other wrist, his waistcoat left unbuttoned.

“Lizzie, can you grab me a tie?” She blinks once or twice before moving, grabbing last night's undershirt off the floor as she does so.

Raymond is dumbfounded as she tugs on his shirt, watching as the oversized cloth drifts down past the only thing she previously had on. The sapphire, lacy blue panties now completely shielded.

His mouth is wide open, for more than a second, struck speechless by the complete lack of hesitation Elizabeth had in completely wrecking him.

She returns still wearing his shirt, a storm cloud grey tie clutched in her hands. Dark crosshatching running along its surface. Slinging it across his shoulders and tucking it under his collar, she begins tying it without a word, their breath mingling together.

The tension between them is smooth, rich, and welcomed. But at the same time it remains jagged, pulling, and cutting. Something has shifted, and now they need each other. It’s something primal, the pair of heating cores in the room, if just due to the proximity and domesticity of waking up to one another. The urge created by perfect balance and harmony the night before. It’s effects are intoxicating, addictive, and demanding.

She finishes the knot easily, adjusting the tie and looking up into his pupil-blown eye.

(They can’t take much more of this.)

Her fingers move to his waistcoat, fastening and smoothing it down his chest.

His cologne still lingers on his clothing, strong enough for her to catch a whiff of it on his neck.

It’s this that throws her over the edge, this that makes her decide to stop playing nice.

Her lips move slowly to cup his neck, feeling his pulse beneath them as she stands on her tippy toes. They move lethargically over his pulse point, a small circular scar under her roaming tongue.

(Liz is now determined to get what she wants. Meetings and work be damned.)

His eyes drift close, neck arching to give her access, begging her to feed his aching, and it’s at this point he knows he really has no chance of winning. He’s putty in her hands. That doesn’t mean he won't give her a run for her money though.

He suddenly moves away. Gulping past the smirk on his face.

Line, hook, and sinker. She knows he’s only playing hard to get, he likes to toy with her that way. She can’t say she minds. She can play too.

Red grabs his pair of cotton crew socks along with a pair of silver and black sock garters and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress, keeping his face down and out of her line of sight. Leaving her standing where he left her.

He crosses his right leg, rolling up his pant leg before stretching his sock up and over his foot. He clasps the sock garter then, the elastic contracting to grip his calf. He clips both clasps into his sock, then rolls his pant leg back down. Switching feet to start the process again, prompting Liz to action.

She slides behind him, the fabric of his suit moving with each action he takes.

Red tries his best to seem as though he’s ignoring her, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Liz rests her lips on the top of his shoulder, hands moving around the front to find purchase to spread out on his hips, before she begins moving her mouth along the hem of his waistcoat. Gliding past his collar to the base of his neck, before moving up and along the side of it. She moves up and along his hairline, his hair delightfully prodding and tickling her lips. She gives open-mouthed kisses to the back of his ear, before nipping and tugging at his ear lobe.

Red had been proud of himself for sticking it out this long, keeping painfully quiet throughout all her ministrations, but when she’s breathing in his ear, and nipping at his skin he’s suddenly no longer able to keep the sound of his shaking breath quiet.

She picks up on this, and stops immediately. Smiling mischievously from ear to ear. She slides out from behind him, grabbing his shoes before dropping to her knees in front of him.

She gently palms his foot, sliding his black oxfords on. Well aware of the fact that he can see straight down her baggy new shirt from his vantage point.

She ties both shoes, then pulls him to a stand by his collar, leaving him to stand on shaky knees as she pulls his grey suit-coat on him.

She stands in front of him now, remaining still despite every fiber in her screaming to reach out and claim him once again.

He’s fully clothed, his armor securely fastened to go do what he does best. Take on the world.

She, on the other hand, is almost fully naked, the drenching shirt rippling in the draft currently crossing his bedroom. (Their bedroom.)

She smooths down his waistcoat one last time, hands lingering before she looks up at his eyes again, both blue and green overrun by black and aching need, before they move at the same time. She grabs his tie and yanks him to her, untucking it from his waistcoat and using it to her full advantage.

Meanwhile he grabs her waist and thrusts her closer, hands fluttering against bare skin and lace. Their lips meet and lock, sliding and pleasing their way to that much needed balance. She backs him into the bed, his knees buckling quite willingly as she lays him down.

She breaks away panting.

Kneeling in front of him again to undo all the useless dressing she just completed. Not completely useless, she reminds herself, finding that she is indeed enjoying ripping off his fine suits and clothing once again. She gets to his sock garters, fumbling to unclasp and peel them off with his socks, before he grabs his phone. With a bit-lip and closed eyes he calls Dembe explaining that he will need Dembe to go to their contact to drop off the necessary information in his stead. Dembe obliges without hesitation, not even wanting to know the reason for Red's absence as he hears a barely audible moan escape Red across the phone as Lizzie shucks off Raymonds pants and traces her lips up his inner thigh. Red closes the phone and tosses it, Lizzie giving a giggle.

“And to think of all that time we could have spent enjoying ourselves instead of you trying to leave. A fruitless venture I might add.”

Red gives a chuckle himself. Suddenly stopping Liz mid kiss and flipping her.

Her back landing gently on the mattress where he previously was.

“Sorry darling. Allow me to make it up to you.”

#talexistime #my fic #ace of Spaders prompt #sock garters #raymond reddington #the blacklist #lizzington #elizabeth keen #elizabeth keen and raymond reddington

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Ch 3: Akuma

Chapter 1: Scandal

Chapter 2: Friends

Chapter 3: Akuma

Chat Noir vaulted from one building to the next with the ease that came with almost a decade of practice. Even the explosions that tilted the ground with alarming frequency did nothing to throw off the hero’s balance or progression.

He landed in a crouch overlooking the akuma. The akuma was cemented into the ground with neon blue cannons on both arms, but able to pivot in every direction. Smaller turrets dotted the area in half a dozen concentric circles around the main villain.

It shot off a projectile that split off into six different pieces, each one flying towards a different building. Chat cringed as the missiles found their targets bringing down each building in what looked like controlled demolitions. Seismic waves crashed through the area seconds later.

Definitely not good. 

At least it was stationary. But it had enough firepower that getting close would be near impossible.

Maybe he should have dove in immediately, but he didn’t see any evidence of civilians, and he really wanted some backup because explosions sucked. Even if Miraculous Ladybug healed everything after the fact, fighting with broken ribs was not fun. Not remotely. And with the explosives coming at the end of heavy projectiles with homing capabilities, they would have to approach this one cautiously, and probably defensively. 

He groaned. He hated laying siege. It was going to take hours.

Carapace landed on the roof beside him. “How ya doing, Kit-Kat?” 

Chat Noir smiled in greeting, but his eyes remained laser focused on the akuma. “Honestly? I’ve had better days. You?”

“Same. I got almost no sleep last night. And the alert woke me from the absolute best nap I’ve had in weeks. Now, I’ve got a killer headache instead.”

The rooftop under them shook as a nearby building crashed to the ground in a heap of rubble.

“That is one nasty akuma,” Carapace said.

Chat Noir nodded in agreement as he opened up the extra-dimensional pocket in his baton and pulled out two little white pills. He held them out to his turtle-themed teammate. “I keep some extra strength Tylenol in my baton.”

Carapace’s face lit up as he took the offered medication. “Dude! I could kiss you!”

Chat smirked. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

Carapace barked out a laugh. “I’m sure I could whip up a can of tuna for you, Kit-Kat.”

Chat shook his head playfully. “You’ll have to work harder to win my affections. I’ll have you know this cat has a very refined palette.”

Carapace laughed.

Chat Noir smiled. Maybe an hours-long siege wouldn’t be so bad. Definitely better than staying home alone in his oversized studio obsessing over every missed red flag from his “date” the day prior.

Maybe he should have gone on a date with Carapace instead. 

Keep reading on Ao3

“Shouldn’t we be fighting the akuma instead of standing around flirting?” 

Chat Noir and Carapace both turned around to see Rena Rouge standing behind them with her eyebrows raised in judgement. 

Chat just grinned, sweeping her into a sideways hug. “Rena! It’s been so long!”

“Missed you, too kitty. What’ve we got?” she asked, peering down over the edge of the roof.

“A demolition man?” Carapace observed, as another six buildings crumbled to the ground.

“Isn’t that a movie?” Chat asked. An old movie. Had Nino tried to get him to watch it? Nino loved any and all action flicks - new and old.

“Yup!” Rena confirmed. “My ex subjected me to it. Terrible movie.”

“Lies!” Carapace objected, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her, Kit-Kat. Definitely worth your time.”

“I will never get those hours of my life back,” Rena said, drolly.

Chat Noir burst out laughing at the appalled expression on Carapace’s face.

“Guys! Let’s focus!” Ladybug’s voice interjected from behind them.

Chat started for a second, and then whirled towards her with a charming smile. “It’s good to see you, m’lady!”

She didn’t smile. “Not tonight, Chaton. Can we just get this over with?”

“Everything alright, boss lady?” Carapace asked, his lips curled downward into a slight frown.

She didn’t spare him a glance either. Instead, she watched the destruction below them without emotion. “I was having a good time with my friends for the first time in forever after an absolutely terrible week. And akumas…”

“Suck,” Carapace filled in.

“Exactly,” Ladybug agreed. “So, let’s get this over with and maybe the day can be salvaged. Chat, you go down the middle, Carapace go left of the building, and I’ll take the right. Rena, we need a ton of decoys. The goal is for all three of us to get there simultaneously and strike at once.”

Chat frowned, glancing away from the akuma and towards his partner. “Are you sure, m’lady? Wouldn’t it be better to huddle up, let Carapace cover us to get close?”

Carapace and Rena Rouge said nothing, both turned to Ladybug waiting for her response, but Ladybug’s face was still flat and impossible even for Chat Noir to read.

“If we split up,” he continued. “We’ll be more likely to get picked off. And the decoys will help, but they can’t replace an almost impenetrable shield against those missiles.”

“Playing this one defensively will take hours,” she said. “Let’s try the offensive strike first, and if it doesn’t work we can pivot quickly and we’ll be in a closer position to set up a shield.”

Adrien did not like it. She was asking him to gamble with their lives, with her life, to save time. Even Carapace and Rena exchanged a frown.

“Please,” Ladybug begged, taking a step forward, her blue eyes darting from one of them to the next, her face finally showing some emotion, and he did not like what he saw. “I really need to avoid an endless siege,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly glassy, threatening tears.

Her distress hit him like a punch to the gut. She clearly wasn’t okay, and hadn’t been for awhile. How had he failed to notice that she was far from okay? Because her tears now had nothing to do with the current akuma. This went deeper and he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. How long had she been struggling while he ran in circles trying to keep his father happy in between grad school commitments?

He couldn’t remember the last time he had met up with her for a joint patrol or just took her out on a friend date, which had once been a regular thing between them.

He would have to make it up to her, and he could start with making this akuma go away as quickly as possible.

He nodded, and offered her a small smile. “Okay, m’lady. I know that if anyone can pull off a crazy plan, it’s you.”

She offered a watery smile in return and he felt his chest loosen for the first time since the akuma alert had sounded. The day wasn’t wasted if he could help her have a better one. 

“Thank you, Chaton,” she said. “I…” 

Her words were cut off as the building adjacent to them crashed to the ground in a crumbling free fall.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we should probably do it now,” Rena said. 

Ladybug’s soft vulnerable tears disappeared as she turned back to the akuma. Her usual game face - serious and sharp - took its place. And Chat couldn’t help the fond smile that bloomed across his face. Even when she was coming apart at the edges, she had so much strength. So much resilience.

“Rena, I want as many decoys as you can pull off,” Ladybug ordered. Rena nodded. “We’ll charge with a two second delay once the illusion is in place. Carapace, on the left, Chat in the middle, and I’ll take the right. Ready?”

“Aye aye, boss lady,” Carapace acknowledged with a salute.

The familiar sound of the flute rang through the air, and suddenly an army of countless Ladybugs, Carapaces, and Chat Noirs surrounded them protectively on all sides, just far enough apart that he didn’t really have to worry about touching them.

Chat launched himself off the rooftop towards the akuma. 

Missiles flew at the decoys, but the illusions dove sideways and away from the projectiles, most of them avoiding the collisions. The missiles were too fast though, and dozens of decoys clipped out of existence.

Chat Noir maintained his forward charge trying not to think about how unprotected he was. How unprotected his lady and Carapace were. 

The akuma was right in front of him - just a single vault away, when he stumbled - tripped over an errant piece of debris like a raw beginner who didn’t have nine years of experience under his belt. He took out half a dozen decoys himself as they ran straight through him.

He launched himself up from the cracked sidewalk immediately, but the damage was done. Carapace was stalled, fending off an unlucky aerial assault. Ladybug took the lead and reached the akuma first. But the villain fended her off easily with a backhand that sent her flying. Then fired off five missiles all tracking straight for Chat Noir who had just given away his position. 

He dodged around the first one easily enough. The second one, too. But the third cost him his balance, and he barely managed to swerve around the fourth. He ended up helpless on his knees, at the mercy of the fifth.

Every muscle locked, anticipating the blow, when Carapace slammed into him from the side, stealing his breath away. And they both ended sprawled across the unforgiving concrete. Before he could recover, the projectile hit the ground where he had been kneeling seconds prior.

The pavement launched upward, slamming him completely back to the ground. The sound was too loud to be heard, but he definitely felt it rip painfully through his body despite his protective transformation.

His ears - ringing with the aftershock - couldn’t hear anything else. But the protective green glow of Carapace’s shelter bloomed into existence around them, deflecting the worst of the next concussive wave over their heads. The ground remained unsteady beneath them though. 

Chat Noir allowed himself one deep breath before he kipped up to his feet and hauled Carapace to his, as his eyes rapidly took in the field on the other side of the green shield that was already cracking from a relentless assault.

“Please tell me this day is almost over,” Carapace growled out.

Most of the decoys had been decimated at this point - only a dozen or so remained, but Rena Rouge couldn’t create more without losing the current ones, which would reveal Ladybug’s position immediately.

Chat laughed. “I wish.”

He knew which one was actually Ladybug, though. It was in her single-minded focus. Every version of her was quick and graceful, able to pivot on the spot, and perform impossible dodges, but Ladybug always landed closer to her target than she started, determined as she was to end this battle. 

She truly was in rare form tonight. Her plan would likely have worked amazingly if he hadn’t screwed it up.

The akuma managed to take out another handful of decoys with his latest barrage of missiles. And then the akuma got lucky, and shot towards the real deal.

“Carapace-” 

She dove forward under the projectile, and then flipped back to her feet right in front of the akuma. 

“-drop the shield.” Chat Noir ordered, already running toward the barrier, not waiting for it to fall.

She snatched a keychain or a dog tag from the akuma’s neck, grinning in victory. She crushed it into pieces with her strengthened hands, but her grin dissolved when no butterfly emerged.

The green shield fell away. Chat put on a burst of speed.

The akuma swung his cannon arm and slammed it into Ladybug’s side. She was thrown sideways, and landed in a terrifyingly still puddle of red and black. 

The akuma pointed his rocket launcher towards her.

Chat Noir threw himself forward just as the akuma shot off the missile.

He took the blast square in the back. His suit no doubt offered some protection but this akuma had the power to bring down solid steel super frames. 

Chat Noir’s skeletal structure didn’t stand a chance.

Pressure exploded across his spine. The blinding pain came an instant later. It felt like he was being burned alive both inside and out.

He didn’t break his fall, his arms dangling lifeless at his sides. He landed face first, his chin striking the crumbling pavement sending a second wave of agony through his form.

He couldn’t breathe, let alone scream.

Was this what dying felt like? 

It had never hurt this bad before.

…

Carapace was still processing what Chat said when he took off like a bullet. Straight for the shield. Carapace frantically dissolved the barrier before his teammate could crash into it. Carapace shot after him, only a few paces behind, but he already knew it wasn’t enough.

His heart jumped up to his throat and time slowed to nothing as he watched Chat Noir take the hit meant for Ladybug, and crash to the ground, both his magical suit and skin torn to shreds, exposing raw bleeding tissue on his back and legs. 

Carapace threw himself into a roll to put himself between the akuma and his fallen companion, and landed sprawled against the black cat’s unmoving form, screaming for his shelter once again.

The shield went up not a second too soon, immediately taking hit after hit. The sound of cracking glass echoed overhead reminding him that the shield would only hold for so long against the maelstrom.

He glanced back, hoping he had managed to envelop Ladybug in the protective barrier as well. No such luck. She was just on the other side of the glowing green bubble. At least it was between her and the akuma. They made eye contact, and she jerked her head towards Chat. 

She wanted him to take care of her partner - not dive back into the battle. 

He nodded acknowledgement. 

A second later, she launched herself off the ground and took cover in the growing piles of rubble. 

His attention turned to Chat Noir who wasn’t moving. 

“Talk to me, Kit Kat!” Carapace shook his shoulder, but there was nothing, not so much as a groan. 

Up close, Chat looked even worse - like he had been chewed up and swallowed by a dinosaur, only to be spit back out. Carapace could only imagine how much pain he was in. Carapace had been knocked around more than his fair share in this line of work, but he’d never taken a hit that vaporized the suit away! 

He carefully rolled Chat to his side and then to his back, trying not to touch his injuries, which was almost impossible as they covered more than a third of his body. He was completely limp. Carapace leaned his cheek to Chat’s mouth, feeling for any signs of breathing. 

There wasn’t any. 

Carapace sucked in his own breath, his throat threatening to squeeze shut, and dread twisted his gut like a coiled snake. 

Carapace had seen Chat Noir put under mind control, transformed into various inanimate objects, erased or vaporized from existence. But he had never before had to confront a lifeless body. 

But surely the ladybugs could bring him back, right?

Another volley of missiles struck the outside of his barrier, the ground underneath them tilting sideways. The shield was holding. 

The sound of static buzzing filled the air and Chat’s transformation dropped.

Carapace was completely unprepared. They were adults. They hadn’t timed out in ages. And he jerked his gaze away, but unfortunately, Carapace could recognize his own best friend from just his clothes and shoes.

Especially when he had his face pressed to that shirt not thirty minutes prior.

His gaze whipped back up to the painfully familiar face, now marred with gashes and a rapidly forming bruise on his chiseled chin. 

“Opaque!” Carapace yelled. The translucent barrier turned a dark and solid green, though the cracks and fissures remained. He wouldn’t be able to see the battle, but that was better than losing Chat’s identity to all of Paris. 

Adrien’s identity.

The same Adrien who befriended him in collège when he had fallen into almost total isolation after his older brother had disappeared, the Adrien who had coaxed him through his first gig, the Adrien who had nursed him through his break up with Alya, who had held his hand through his bisexual awakening, the Adrien who had never failed to be there for him.

The Adrien who was his very best friend who was currently not breathing.

Nino cradled his best friend’s head in his lap as hot burning tears fell onto Adrien’s cheeks. 

“Carapace,” Chat’s kwami said. “He’s not okay.” 

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Carapace asked, his eyes never leaving Adrien’s pale and lifeless form. “As soon as Ladybug fixes everything?”

“Probably not,” Plagg said. 

The two words struck him like a freight-train. His gut dropped out from underneath him as his heart rose up to his throat. His eyes burned, and the whole world went out of focus. He fell forward, his head pressed against Adrien’s as his sudden grief came out in wracking howls that sounded inhuman even to his own ears. 

He rocked back and forth, still holding Adrien close - if Nino held him close enough and hard enough, maybe he wouldn’t leave him. 

Nino knew that’s not how this worked. His throat cemented closed, and yet his devastated cries broke past the emotional blockade anyway.

“Carapace! Listen to me!” Plagg flew right into his face. “There’s a chance to save him! I need you to keep his heart going until Ladybug does her thing!” 

“W-what?” Nino stammered, staring at the kwami in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Turtle boy!” Plagg barked. “I need you to focus! Hands on his chest! Now! I will not lose this kitten!”

“You mean, like CPR?”

“Yes! Now!” 

Nino scrambled to comply, laying Adrien’s prone head gently on the ground, trying to ignore the stains of red on his own arms. He placed his hands on his friend’s chest. With elbows locked, Nino started pressing down hard over and over again.

“Faster!” Plagg directed. “Don’t stop!” 

Nino tried to focus on his own hands, and not on the hot tears slipping down over his mask, or the blood seeping on the cement to his knees, or the angry deep cuts that slashed across Adrien’s face, or Adrien’s closed eyes that might never open again. 

Nino tried to stamp down on his rising panic, tried to hold back the torrent of grief and tears, but he was failing. His whole form was crumpling in on itself as the wracking sobs kept coming in unrelenting waves despite his best efforts to hold them at bay.

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted again, diving towards Adrien’s jean pockets. 

Nino swallowed his fear and his devastation, forced it down until his gut swam sickenly. He fought off his desire to fold into a ball and howl to the universe about how this couldn’t happen. 

Instead, he forced himself to keep pressing down and up, and then down and up again on Adrien’s chest. It was a drum beat that he had to maintain, he couldn’t stop no matter how much his arms and shoulders burned in complaint. 

Because if he stopped, the world might end. 

If it hadn’t already. 

Plagg reappeared with Adrien’s phone in hand. A minute later he placed the device against Adrien’s bruised chin. A youtube tutorial on CPR was playing. Nino adjusted his rhythm to match the rapid counting in the video. It became mindless at that point, which unfortunately meant he had more ability to think.

It didn’t seem like it was working. Adrien wasn’t responding at all, and he was losing more blood with every thrust of Nino’s arms if the dark pool of red black at his knees was any indicator.

Nino lost his pace for a second overwhelmed with fear. What if it didn’t work? 

“Don’t stop!” Plagg shouted.

“He’s bleeding out!” Nino screamed back, syncing up with the video once again. “Aren’t I just making things worse?”

“Probably. I doubt anything is getting to his brain. But you’re not trying to revive him,” the kwami said, dismissively.

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re just trying to keep his soul here until Ladybug defeats the akuma.” 

“His s-soul?” Nino stuttered over the word, his desperate sobs now coming in torrents. 

His fucking soul? What was Nino supposed to do with that? It was too big and too much, and Nino didn’t know how to wrap his head around any of it. 

“P-please, Dri,” Nino begged, his voice cracking on the nickname. “P-please, don’t leave me.”

Nino’s arms kept the rhythm, never losing the pace. Even transformed, his shoulders and triceps were burning in protest, but Nino ignored it. Wayzz would provide all the endurance he needed.

The sound of shattering glass exploded overhead, spiderweb cracks spreading all across the dome.

“Fuck.”

The shield couldn’t take another hit. 

“Lose the transformation,” Plagg ordered.

Nino’s eyes whipped toward the cat kwami. “What?! Plagg! I don’t know how long I can do this without enhanced strength.”

“I will destroy anything that gets through until Wayzz has another shield up. You can’t do CPR and replenish our defenses over and over, simultaneously.”

“But… doesn’t a kwami using his power by himself make bad things happen?” ” Carapace objected out of habit, not because he particularly cared at the moment. Nino had never had the opportunity to see Wayzz without the limits of the miraculous. 

“Something bad has already happened! This is called damage control! We don’t have time to argue!”

Another splintering crack overhead seemed to punctuate Plagg’s point.

“Wayzz, shell off,” Carapace whispered. 

Immediately, his arms and back burned more intensely with the loss of the miraculous’s support, and Nino grunted with effort.

But he wouldn’t stop - not now, not ever. This was Adrien and he didn’t care if his arms fell off. He wasn’t going to give up on him.

“Cataclysm!” Plagg shouted, flying rapidly out of Nino’s line of sight. He didn’t worry about how much of the city block Plagg might take with him in destroying the incoming missiles, trusting the kwami would direct the damage AWAY from them. He didn’t worry about anyone being able to see his or Adrien’s identity. There was so much smoke that it wasn’t possible. And Nino didn’t worry about the fact that they were exposed or vulnerable. 

Adrien was already dead. If they got hit, then at least they’d go together.

Black ash rained down around them like some kind of ominous snow.

“Opaque Shelter!” Wayzz called half a second after. 

With the shield in place, Plagg whipped back down to Adrien’s shoulder watching intently. 

“Come on, Pigtails,” Plagg grumbled. “We’re running out of time.” 

Nino’s right arm spasmed in that moment, and he wasn’t sure if it was fatigue or the rising panic caused by Plagg’s words. 

“No! We can’t be out of time!” Nino screamed as if Plagg could control when Adrien’s soul was gone. Nino wiped his snot on his own shoulder, and turned his glare on Adrien’s face. “Do you hear me, Dri?!” Nino screamed, unable to wipe the tears dripping from his eyes over his nose to fall on his own now bare hands. “You can’t give up on me! You can’t!”

This wouldn’t be Adrien’s last day on Earth.

It couldn’t be. 

Because Nino didn’t know how to face the world without his best friend.

…

Adrien’s entire existence was pain. Everything was on fire - from the top of his head, through his body, to the tips of his fingers. All of it was pulsing in an agonizing rhythm. He thought the internal inferno centered on his chest, but his back felt like he had landed in a pool filled with glass shards. He couldn’t feel his legs at all, which considering how everything else was fairing, might have been a blessing. 

But it was his chest that cried out as it was struck again and again without care for his fractured ribs. 

Stop, he tried to say, begged from every inch of his mind. But the words would not form on his lips. Please, just let it end.

But the hammers to his chest kept coming, relentless and never ending. He urged his arms to action - to move, but every last bit of strength had been sapped away.

He prayed that it had been worth it - that Ladybug was alive and well - able to defeat the akuma without him. 

But his condition suggested otherwise. If Ladybug was okay, he would be too. 

Someone was crying hysterically just above him, well on their way to screaming. Their voice was broken and raspy.

It wasn’t Ladybug - the tone was too deep - but it struck a chord in him. He wanted to soothe it just the same.

I’ve survived worse, he wanted to tell the voice, though he had serious doubts if that was true. But being erased from the time continuum had to be worse, right?

“Dri?”

That was Nino. Adrien could only moan in response. 

“Shit! Plagg, I think he’s awake.” 

Why was Nino talking to Plagg? Plagg knew better.

“Don’t you dare stop!” his kwami ordered.

No. Please stop. It only came out as a whimper. 

Something hot and wet fell onto his cheek. “I’m so sorry, du-” Nino’s voice cracked before he finished the word. 

Nino was crying.

Adrien had made Nino cry. He hated that.

Adrien opened his eyes only to be assaulted with hard edges and burning lights that were far too bright. None of it made sense. He slammed them shut again, but it didn’t help. His head still wanted to split into halves.

“Dude! Take it easy!”

A warmth settled on his shoulder. Soothing vibrations pulsed through his neck. Like a cat’s purr. 

Plagg? 

“I know it hurts, kitten.” 

Adrien would have laughed had he been able. Hurt did not begin to describe the agony he was in. 

“But you will survive.”

The painful beat on his chest - so hard, so deep - like a stampede of gazelles were trampling over him - continued. It never stopped. 

Adrien wasn’t sure he wanted to survive.

The sobs from the boy above him - deep cries of pure despair - made him reconsider. Adrien would survive anything - go through any torture - to soothe Nino’s pain.

Mercifully, everything faded.

When Adrien woke up again it was to a miraculously pain-free world. He sighed, his whole body easing in relaxation. The memory of his torture was already fading fast. 

He opened his eyes again, but he still couldn’t bring the world into focus. There was a flash of green light of a miraculous transformation, but it was too bright. And Adrien let his eyes fall closed again. 

He pressed his hands down for balance, expecting to find debris and jagged fragments on the sidewalk below him. But the cold ground was smooth and undamaged. His hands were bare - he wasn’t transformed. He should have been transformed, shouldn’t he? They had been fighting an akuma.

The ladybugs had healed everything. But then, why did his head still feel like thick fog? 

“Dude! Can you hear me?” 

He wetted his lips. “Nino?” Adrien asked, recognizing the voice.

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah, it’s me, dude. Can you sit up?”

Adrien attempted to do so, and was surprised at how hesitant his muscles were to respond to his wishes. He managed to prop himself up with Nino was bracing him on both sides. Adrien leaned into the support. What was wrong with his body?

“Why?” The word came out slowly, as if Adrien’s mouth was just remembering how to form the sounds. “Why... is the world spinning?” 

Adrien wasn’t often one to complain, but usually, the ladybugs did a way better job.

“You sure he’s okay now?” Nino was asking. But who was he talking to? “Should I take him to a hospital?”

“He’s fine. The ladybugs healed him. The hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him now.”

Was that Plagg? Why was Plagg talking to Nino? Plagg should know better. Adrien clutched the sides of his head, in both hands. Why did nothing make sense?

But the nasally voice continued. “He wasn’t completely gone yet, so they could heal him. He’s physically fine now. Good job, turtle boy.”

“What about mentally?” Nino asked. 

Adrien squeezed his eyes closed. They weren’t helping him anyway, only making him dizzy. 

“You worry too much. He just needs twelve hours of sleep. He’ll be as perfect as a freshly opened wheel of camembert.”

Adrien snorted out a laugh. And it was surprisingly painless. He found himself smiling sleepily, and leaning into Nino’s chest, which felt a lot… more solid than normal.

“We don’t normally need twelve hours of sleep after a Miraculous Ladybug.” Nino’s voice was hard with frustration. “What’s different?”

“The difference is he died!” Plagg snapped back.

Adrien wanted to ask about that. What was the big deal? He had died countless times before, and it had never mattered before.

But the conversation faded away.

He woke again when he was laid down gently into his own bed. A heavy hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly. There was a beeping sound. A phone. And the hand disappeared. 

Adrien whimpered at it’s loss. 

“Yeah?” a familiar voice answered. It was still Nino. “LB, calm down. He’s okay. I took him home before anyone could see who he was. Plagg says he’ll be coherent again in twelve hours. I’ll tell him you want to see him for patrol tomorrow?”

And now Nino was talking to Ladybug like they knew each other well. It was like his worlds had smashed together like a meteor crashing onto the Earth’s surface and Adrien had somehow managed to sleep through the world ending collision. 

Was any of this real? Was he dreaming? 

He tried to sit up, but Nino’s sudden hand on his chest kept him down. Plagg curled up on his shoulder and started purring. Adrien stopped resisting and stayed down. 

“Yes, he was healed,” Nino said. “I don’t know. Plagg said it was normal for him to be out of it for a while even with the ladybugs because of… how badly he was hurt.” 

There was another pause, as the person on the other side of the conversation - presumably Ladybug - responded. 

“I promise he’s okay. Yeah… of course. I’ll be right there.” And the comforting weight on his chest vanished. 

“Plagg?” Nino called. “Can you let him know that he has a patrol with Ladybug tomorrow at the normal time? I gotta run.”

Adrien’s chest tightened at that announcement. 

“You’ll call me if anything changes?” Nino continued.

“Sure, kid,” Plagg said, still curled up on Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien tried to sit up again, but his body wasn’t listening to his brain. “N-Ni…no?” he forced the name past his lips. Why was it so hard to speak? 

The smooth gloved hand was on his chest again, easing his anxiety. “Just rest, mec.”

But the hand disappeared again too fast and too soon. 

“D-don’t… g-go,” Adrien managed to string together. 

The comforting presence came back, and this time Adrien pinned Nino’s arm to his chest with both his hands, determined to keep him there this time. “Okay,” Nino reassured, and slid into the bed lying prone alongside him. Adrien’s body finally melted in relief. 

“I’ll stay until you go to sleep,” Nino said.

For a beautiful moment all the tension in his body seeped away, and he just let himself drift. But a few seconds later, he processed Nino’s words and his eyes shot open.

Because Adrien didn’t want to sleep. Something was clearly wrong. He looked frantically around at the walls, ceiling, and furniture. Adrien recognized none of it. There were too many lights and colors and none of it made any sense, and it felt like the walls were closing in on him. What the hell was wrong with him? 

“N-Nino?” Adrien called, his eyes burned and his throat was closing off. “W-what…?” but he couldn’t get the rest of the words out. And it was hard not to panic. His breathing quickened, and his heart took off like there was a race to be won. 

He sucked in air frantically, because he wasn’t getting any. His chest spasmed painfully, and his arms were shaking, and his fingers tingling. The tremors spread to his extremities, the numbness only a second behind. He tried to stop the convulsing, he tried to hold it still, but he couldn’t do it. The pinpricks spread to his head, and his vision spun worse than it already was. 

“Dude!” Nino jumped in, clutching Adrien’s head in either hand. His hands were gloved and hard. 

Was it really Nino? It didn’t feel like Nino, and Adrien didn’t trust his eyes that were incapable of making sense of anything at the moment. 

“You need to stay calm. Breathe with me,” Nino said, their foreheads pressed together, but Nino was wearing some kind of hood - it was hard… like Chat Noir’s armor.

“Dri!” 

The exclamation cut through all of Adrien’s panicked thoughts. That was definitely Nino. Whatever he physically felt like, no one else called Adrien that. Nino had come up with the diminutive nickname a few years ago, shortly after he had broken up with Alya. He didn’t use it often - it was usually dude, mec, man, guy, but in the quiet moments, Nino would call him Dri. And Adrien loved it, especially when Nino was the one saying it.

“Can you do that, Dri? Breathe in slowly.” 

And Adrien trusted Nino more than anyone, except maybe Ladybug, and even then, he thought it might be a tie.

And so he listened. He breathed in deeply and slowly on a count of four before letting it back out again for another slow count of four from his best friend. 

His panic gradually receded. And he just lay there keeping his eyes closed, his hand clinging onto Nino’s - when had he even grabbed Nino’s hand - as if his life depended on it. 

Nino was still wearing the thick solid gloves. 

Nino didn’t wear gloves. Not ever. 

“What happened?” Adrien asked slowly, pleased that the words strung together fully and clearly. 

Nino’s grip tightened. “I promise I’ll explain it to you later, Kit-Kat. Plagg says you need rest.”

Had Nino just called him Kit-Kat?

“Plagg always…” Was he seriously talking about Plagg with Nino? This had to be a dream. “Plagg always votes-” Adrien’s sentence was punctuated by a yawn, “-for laziness.”

“I think Plagg may be onto something this time,” Nino said.

Adrien wanted to argue. He hated it when people didn’t explain things. When people kept secrets. And he knew he was the biggest hypocrite on that front, but he would have told Nino everything years ago if it had been his choice.

But his head was growing heavy, and his thoughts were still smothered in a muggy fog, so he didn’t protest.

“I love you, Dri,” Nino whispered. “You have no idea how much. Please. Please, don’t ever do that to me again.”

I love you, too.

…

Chapter 4: Fallout

#adrino #adrinino #friends to lovers #slow burn #Adrien Agreste #Nino Lahiffe #temporary character death #mentions of blood #anxiety #panic attacks #hurt comfort #romance #battle scenes are also hard #right behind you #my own content #miraculous ladybug fan fiction

[itsclydebitches]

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway. 

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore. 

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse. 

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was. 

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable. 

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

 What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll.  But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though. 

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

#tw suicidal thoughts #rwby #fic things #rwby fic #Ironwood #Watts #Maria #Pietro #idk what this IS #post-apocalyptic RWBY I guess #with a side of questionable people not talking to each other #Anonymous

[doodlegirl12345]

Doodle’s Short Stories: Nightmares

Hello everyone it’s Doodle here. I recently started a new story stories called Doodle’s Short Stories where I will post short stories based off the recent episodes of Miraculous Ladybug. This will be different from the one shots and multiple partners I plan to post here as those will be more AU like. Meanwhile these stories will align with the recent episodes. In addition, these short stories will have themes that will be listed with each story.

So here’s the third story with the theme of nightmares: I Don’t Want This.

Also available on Wattpad

Here’s the previous stories: The Limited Truth & The Visitor

I Don’t Want This

Theme: Nightmares

We begin at the end, the city of Paris drowning in flames. Smoke billowed off the buildings into the night sky as the remains had taken the role of kindling. The streets were littered with abandoned cars and burning rubble. Many citizens were able to flee from the city before the ring of fire. However the few that didn’t were deemed the unfortunate forced to face the consequences for one man’s actions.

The city was covered in flames.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had been unmasked.

Paris has lost.

Underneath the meticulous structure of The Eiffel Tower stood the city’s long time menace Shadow Moth, taking everything in. The flames, smoke and ashes, were all the symptoms of a spectacular rebirth. He looked down at the items in his hands that he had desired so much for.

The ladybug earrings and the black cat ring.

This has become the best day of his life.

“Nooroo. Duusu, dark wings fall and feathers close,” said the villain, causing his suit to retract revealing his civilian clothes.

The two kwamis flew out their respective miraculous and floated right in front of him.

“Wow look at all this,” the peacock kwami looked around in awe. “All this fire.”

“It’s just a stepping stone, Duusu,” Gabriel told her. “Just like you and Nooroo.”

“Oh okay,” Duusu replied. “Wait, what’s a stepping stone?”

“It’s finally time Nooroo, all our hard work is finally coming to light,” said Gabriel.

“Master this is all your hard work,” the butterfly kwami whimpered meekly. “I have no part in this. But like I said before, your one wish after unifying the ring and earrings will come with a cost.”

“I already paid the cost for every waking moment that I had to live without my dear Emilie,” he told the meek little kwami. “I have paid with interest, it’s time for me to finally get what I want.”

He clipped on the ladybug miraculous earrings to his ears causing a red orb of energy to appear right in front of him turning into a small red kwami with a black spot.

“Tikki!” Duusu exclaimed as she flew toward the kwami, snatching her into a hug. “I missed you so much! It’s been too long!”

“Duusu!” the ladybug kwami yelled, struggling to fly out of the peacock kwami’s grasp. “Let go with me!”

Gabriel slid the cat miraculous ring next to his wedding band causing a green orb of energy to form before it turned into the black cat kwami.

“You!” the cat kwami hissed, raising his arms. “Cata-“

But before the full phase could be uttered Gabriel moved his hands side to side then joined them together, saying. “Tikki! Plagg! Unify!”

The two kwamis that were called upon got pulled into their respective miraculous. A blast of purple light shot into the sky creating a vortex around him as he was being levitated off the ground. It felt every single cell of his body was being overloaded with pure energy. Rays of purple and gold shined changing his clothes into a shimmery deep purple skin tight suit with golden wisps, embellishments and embroideries. A long violet sash wrapped around his hips tied like a belt. His hair became a shimmery white while his skin glowed a white translucent color. The man’s eyes became a pupil-less white color. Gabriel floated back down landing a inch above the ground as it seemed he was granted the gift of flight. His body no longer felt like skin and bones but instead a beacon of pure light.

He had finally done it.

“Congratulations Master,” said Nooroo. “You have finally become a god.”

Cracks of lighting and thunder roared from the now hemorrhaging night sky.

“Yes,” Gabriel grinned. Even his voice had changed, being now more domineering and booming. “The only thing to do now is to wish the person I did all this for. I wish to bring back my wife Emilie in full health without any illnesses or physical limitations.”

Shimmery wisps of purple and gold shone in the air right in front of him. They twisted and turned before merging into a singular flash of white light. The white light faded leaving a woman in its place. She had long blonde hair, kind green eyes, fair skin and soft rose tinted lips. The woman was wearing a shimmery strapless violet ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and a purple tulle skirt with gold embroidery. She has a silver wedding ring on her hand.

It was his beloved Emilie.

Gabriel’s eyes widened blinking several times making sure that it wasn’t an illusion. She was just as stunning as the day he had met her.

He had dreams just like this.

Emilie looked around, rubbing her head as she appeared confused. “What...what happened to me? Where I’m I?”

“Emilie, my love,” Gabriel floated toward her, absolutely smitten.

However she reeled back fear shining in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“It’s me Emilie, your husband Gabriel,” he told her.

“No,” she shook her head. “I know my husband and he doesn’t look like you.”

“But I’m your husband, if I wasn’t then how would you know that you’ve wanted to be a prima ballerina since you were four,” he said. “But you had to give up professional dance at fifteen after getting in an accident during a family vacation. Or that you wear contacts as you never liked how glasses looked on you and didn’t want your sister to be known as the twin with the good eyesight. Your words not mine. Or that our son Adrien was named after one of your family members that served in World War II.”

His wife looked back at him astonished.

“Gabriel? Is that really you?”

“Yes my dear,” he smiled. “It’s really me.”

“What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.”

With that he told her everything that had transpired during her absence which included him becoming Hawkmoth, constantly fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir then other heroes like Rena Rouge and Carapace. That he had traveled to places like New York City and Shanghai. Later he had become Shadow Moth as he kept being outclassed by teenagers. He told her everything: the good, the bad and the ugly.

“Really? You did all that?” Emilie asked once he was finished. “Why?”

“For you of course,” Gabriel smiled proudly. “I made a promise the day that I had lost you. That I would do everything in my power to bring you back. No matter what.”

“Of course you did,” Emilie brought her hands to her mouth. She looked at the burning city around them. “Did you do this too?”

“Not directly, but the akumas and sentimonsters that did were under my control,” he replied.

“Of course,” his wife started to sob. “Of course you did.”

“Emilie, what’s wrong?” Gabriel asked. “Don’t lie to me, I can always tell when you’re upset.”

“It just...” she looked around as tears streamed down her face. “I don’t want this.”

“What?” Gabriel asked, putting heavy contempt in the single word.

“I don’t want this,” she sternly repeated. “I would never have wanted this!”

“Emilie, do you know how much time, money and effort I spent to bring you back? Every night I told myself that it was worth it just to have you be able to sleep beside me in our bed again. I had put nearly two years of my life on hold for you.”

“Well, have you ever considered what I would have wanted?! All this time that you did it ever cross your mind that Emilie might have not wanted this? The city that she loved being torched. That husband became a monster in her memory?”

“How dare you!”

“But it’s the truth isn’t it?! You have terrorized Paris for almost a year and set it ablaze. You tried to ruin people’s lives so they could become targets for your akumas. You have harmed and manipulated children. You tried to launch the planet into another global war. If that’s not a monster then I don’t know what is.”

“But I love you more than life itself, isn’t that enough? Dear, I...I wanted to start over from this. I wanted you to help me put aside my demons and move past all this.”

“That doesn’t erase all that you have done! Why does it have to be on me to save you anyway? I’m not your therapist or your martyr or puppet. I’m supposed to be your wife. But right now I don’t even know if I want to be that. If I knew that all this was going to happen. I wished that I would have stayed dead.”

“No, don’t say that,” Gabriel floated toward her, trying to grab her hand. “Especially when you don’t mean it.”

“Don’t touch me!” Emilie pulled away from him. “Who are you to tell me what I mean?!”

“Emilie, just relax, you’re being hysterical. It’s probably just the side effects of my wish.”

“I’m not, I just realized how horrible my husband is. What you had done to those children Ladybug and Chat Noir. They sound not older than Adrien....oh my gosh...”

“What?”

“Gabriel, where is our son?”

“Who?”

“OUR SON ADRIEN WHO LOOKS LIKE ME AND WAS NAMED AFTER THE WAR HERO. WHERE IS HE!”

“The last time I saw him was when I sent him to his room. Gorilla was supposed to be watching him.”

Emilie turned to the burning city around them. Her skin became chalk white as if her soul had just been ripped right out of her body.

“You left my baby in a burning city?” she asked, her voice was now flat and monotonous.

“It wasn’t planned,” Gabriel told her, reading the broken expression on her face. “I can just-“

But Emilie just slid her wedding ring off her finger letting it drop to the ground.

“I have to find him,” she told him. “I have to find Adrien.”

She started to move toward the burning city with the flames and billowing smoke. Gabriel tried to grab her hand to stop her. But as he did a violet force field appeared between their hands.

“EMILIE!” he screamed as she became more of a speck in the distance, enveloping into the black smoke. “EMILIE! EMILIE! EMILIE!”

Black smoke continued to consume the area.

“Why couldn’t I touch her?” Gabriel asked, looking at his hands.

“It’s because she’s beneath you now,” Nooroo appeared beside him. “You’re a god and she’s a mere moral. Those are two different levels.”

“Then what was the point of this?! If I can’t even touch my own wife?”

“I told you there was a price, Gabriel. This is the price of ultimate godhood.”

“You never told me that this was the cost!”

“I thought you knew? You always carried yourself like you knew better than others.”

“Then I just take off the ring and earrings,” Gabriel hissed, starting to pull off his ring.

“Then both you and Emilie will perish,” Nooroo told him.

“What?”

“Emilie was brought back due to the unification of the earrings and the ring. If that bond is undone she will cease to exist. While you traded your morality with godhood. You get rid of that and you will die. I thought I was clear about that but like Plagg once said humans can be thicker than Camembert.”

“WHY YOU LITTLE!” Gabriel roared trying to rip Nooroo out of the air.

But a purple force field appeared between them.

Nooroo gave him a satisfied but sinister smile. “Now, this is where my vituperative servitude to you ends. Goodbye Gabriel, I hope it was all worth it.”

The kwami faded into the suffocating black smoke. The smoke consumed Gabriel into it’s void causing all his surroundings to become pitch black. The sound of screaming pierced his ears. But it wasn’t a singular sound but the cries of thousands in wretched pain. It was the unfortunate citizens of Paris that were left behind with flames crying out in agony. Within those thousands of voices he could hear one pair of voices right in his ears.

It was Emilie’s and Adrien’s.

The neolithic god crumbled to his knees covering his ears trying to block the voices of people’s lives that he had ruined.

He yelled into the void. “Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!”

Suddenly Gabriel opened his eyes rising up from his bed. He looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The smoke was gone as he was in his bedroom underneath his silk sheets of bed and in his silk pajamas. Little bits of sunlight were peeking out from behind the curtains of his bedroom’s windows.

“It was just that dream,” said to himself. “But it was different this time.”

He hung his head as that dream wasn’t the same as before. Usually it would stop after Emilie’s arrival. But this was different, it felt too real. Gabriel turned his head looking at the framed photo on the nightstand beside him.

It was a photo of him and Emilie on their wedding day. He just stared at it, wishing she was here.

Even though that wish would ruin everyone else’s reality.

The End.

Thanks for reading! 😊

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

Thanks for reading. I hope you like this little short stories of mine. I thought it would be interesting to explore Gabriel’s subconscious as let’s face it he has done really horrible things in the series. So I pondered what if he even did succeed finally bring Emilie back. To only have her reject him after everything he had done. Like you committed all these crimes and neglected your son for nothing.

These posts are on a bi-weekly schedule. This story is also posted on Wattpad if you are interested. Have a nice day/night! 😊

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #ml fanfic #ml shadow moth #sentibubbler #shadow moth #ml Emilie #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fandom #my writing #wattpad #ml hawkmoth #ml ladybug #ml chat noir #miraculous shadow moth

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 5

Word Count: 6042 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine Ahsoka Tano, Rex, Mace Windu, Violence, Implied Torture, Fake Death, loss of limb (fingers)

Another one in by the skin of my teeth lol.

Anakin nodded at the pair of clones, red and white clad troopers from the Coruscant Guard, stationed in front of the outermost doors to the Chancellor’s suite as he strode past and inside to the office they’d always met in. The grand room, and the hall before it, looked as it always had during any of his visits: haloed in the sun’s light and filled with any number of priceless artifacts and fine, if simply constructed, furniture. And all of it painted a bright, rich red from floor to ceiling that gave way to the raised, warm gray flooring nearer the windows. He stopped before that raised section, hands fisted and trembling beneath the larger sleeves of his dark brown robe, and looked up, past the stairs and chairs and desk at its very center to the Chancellor himself, smiling placidly down at him.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” the Chancellor greeted, pleased, and it was all Anakin could do not to scream. “I wasn’t expecting you, but please come. Take a seat. I always have time for a friend.”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he said neutrally. He offered a shallow bow, jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. It hurt to breathe, a vice wrapped around his chest and squeezing his lungs so painfully tight he thought he might suffocate on the spot. “We just got back from a” — horrible nightmare, he thought and only a hitch in his breath to give it away —“campaign in the Outer Rim. I thought the resupply was also a good excuse to give my Padawan and I some time to rest planetside. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

“Not at all.” Pal— The Chancellor, shook his head, smile still in place, if a little tighter when he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and said, again: “Please. Sit. How is your padawan doing? Last we spoke, you sounded quite frustrated. Understandable, of course,” he said, amiable and sympathetic. “Teenagers, especially her age, can be difficult, though I have no doubts that you’re doing your best.”

Anakin walked up the four steps to the platform and not an inch closer even as he offered a tight smile of his own. He tasted sour bile in the back of his mouth to hear the man so much as mention Ahsoka, even if he’d kept her name out of his mouth. Still, he bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the question and answered.

“She’s doing good, Your Excellency. I think we’ve come to understand each other a little better since the last time I was able to speak with you.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” said the Chancellor, sounding, to Anakin’s ears, just a fraction displeased at the news.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

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

They’d lost so many men.

Ahsoka hadn’t been able to purge that haunting sight from her since they’d hobbled back to the Resolute, victorious but silent. The bodies of men she’d slowly grown closer to lived on the backs of her eyelids, there to see every time she closed her eyes. All of them left behind like so much trash, unburied and with no time to mourn them as they hurried on to the next planet. The next battlefield. The next slaughter.

She shuddered, huddled up in a deserted corner of the ship — so deep in that she’d lost track of where exactly she’d walked — as far from everyone else as she’d been able to manage. Misery clung to her, sticking and ugly, and she knew. She knew it was worse for the men who’d lost their brothers. Their friends. So she sat alone, the tears long-dried on her cheeks, not wanting to interrupt or take up space she didn’t deserve. They weren’t her brothers, but they’d been her men for almost a year and she cared. More than she probably should.

“Hey, Snips.”

She jerked, eyes wide, not having heard her master coming down the corridor. He smiled, a wan, withering thing. Nothing at all like the usual bluster and brightness he showed off in front of everyone. She said nothing as he sat, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees, in front of her. He looked so tired. Stressed. He hadn’t been the neatest or most put-together looking Jedi she’d ever met, but he’d grown slowly worse since their last trip to Coruscant.

“Hey,” she said, voice duller than she’d meant it to be.

“How’re you holding up?” She considered the question. Considered lying, but…

“Not… not great.” Anakin hummed, but didn’t interrupt. She didn’t dare look at him as she spoke, not wanting to see how he felt about what she admitted. “I just— I don’t know—” She hooked her fingers into the thick, white fabric of her leggings and pulled her legs in closer. “I wanted to be a Jedi so bad.” She hated how she choked on the words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I still do, really. But. But there’s just so much—

“It’s awful,” she whispered and startled when an arm settled over her shoulder and pulled so she was pressed tight to her master’s side. Wrapped up in her roiling emotions as she’d been, she hadn’t even noticed him move. She sniffled, turning to hide her face in his dark tunic. “There’s so much death, master. So much pain. I feel it all the time and I. I don’t know how to—”

The words died in her throat, smothered by an awful sob half-muffled by her master’s warmth. He rubbed her shoulder as she cried, pulled in as close as either could physically manage.

“How do you do it, Master,” she croaked once she’d mostly calmed. “How do you not care so hard?” She felt him still next to her, almost a flinch. Before she could apologize, take the words and this moment back and flee to her room, he answered, his own voice low and soft. Gentle.

“You never stop, Snips. You just … learn. You put it aside when you’re needed, and work through it when you’re not.” He sighed. “I’m not— Well. You know I’m not always great with my emotions, not like Obi-Wan or some of the other Masters.” She nodded in the lull, waiting for him to gather himself. “But the worst of it, the parts that’d only hurt you or the men to see? I keep it locked in a little box with an old fashioned lock and key, stashed away until I have time to meditate or process or even just when I work on a ship or droid.

“Every time we come back from a campaign and I count how many we’ve lost, I feel it so hard I think I’ll never breathe again. Usually, I’ll rely on Obi-Wan if it’s bad enough and he knows he can lean on me if he needs it. You, my young Padawan, can come to me any time you need to,” he said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime. Any reason. Even if it’s just to sit quietly together.”

Ahsoka nodded, not feeling better but not quite as alone either.

“Can we meditate?” She asked, voice trembling and tiny.

“Of course,” he said. Neither of them moved, not just yet.

“Hey Skyguy?” Anakin hummed a response. “You can count on me too, if you want.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she saw his other hand twitch from the corner of her eyes — a brief motion, there and done.

“I know,” he murmured, so quietly a human wouldn’t have heard him even though her montrals picked the words up easily. “I know.”

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

Anakin sucked in a deep, bracing breath, willing himself to be still and patient for just a little longer despite how every second he stood there only fueled the pit of anger coiled tightly in his gut. It had been easier, on the Resolute — in space and among his men where he didn’t have to look at the face of a man who’d lied to him for as long as they’d known each other. A man he’d defended against criticism and let whisper in his ear. A man he’d let slowly poison him from the inside until the rot had settled deep in the core of him, a permanent fixture he looked upon with shame and regret. And anger.

“I’m afraid I haven’t come just to visit an old friend, though.” His voice, miraculously, didn’t so much as waver, the words flowing as smoothly from him as they never had.

The Chancellor’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment — so quick he almost thought he’d misinterpreted it, a trick of the light and nothing more — before he spoke, his tone even and jovial. “And what can I do to help you then, Anakin? Or have you come as Knight Skywalker? On behalf of the Jedi, perhaps,” he said, not a question. Anakin shook his head in answer regardless.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Jedi, Chancellor, but I am here as a Knight of the Order though I act alone.” He swallowed and carefully, slowly, reached down to his belt where his lightsaber hung, singing to him so faintly at that moment that it could have been miles away. The Chancellor didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, as he pulled the cool, metal casing from its clip and held it, unlit, in the palm of his flesh hand.

“What have you come here for, Knight Skywalker?”

A chill seemed to settle in the air between them that set every nerve in Anakin’s body aflame, alive and electric through his limbs so that he felt even the faint, phantom pain in his prosthetic. He curled his mechanical fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them for a few tense seconds the way he sometimes did before battle, when he worried that very pain might get in the way and cost more of his men their lives. His shoulders strained with the tension creeping into him, and he struggled to keep let it go.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I accuse you of being a Sith Lord and traitor to the Republic.”

The Chancellor laughed like Anakin had told a particularly funny joke, and said: “My boy, I am an old man who has dedicated his life, and a decade already as Chancellor, to the betterment of the Republic. How could I possibly be a-a Sith?” He asked, just the right amount of incredulity saturating the question. “I fear, my boy, that you are tired — this war has taken its toll on us all, and with you needed so often on the front and so firmly in the thick of the worst of it. Well, it hurts, but I’m unsurprised to find even a young man as impressive as you, my friend, might be swayed by this cruel joke under the circumstances.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Anakin snarled, finally losing the firm grip he’d kept on his anger. “I saw you.” The man stilled, thin lips pressed together in a grim line as he sat back in his chair too peer at Anakin like he were a bug. “I saw you,” he said again, breathing heavily, almost panting. “In your office, your private office, just before the 501st shipped out last time. Talking to Dooku.” He spat the name like a curse, filthier than any other word in his vocabulary.

“My boy, whatever you thought you saw—”

“He called you Sidious. He called you Master.” He bared his teeth at the man who’d been his friend, white-knuckled grip on his saber’s hilt tightening almost painfully. “You’ve betrayed the Republic.

“I am the Republic!” Anakin staggered when The Chancellor’s eyes flashed, bright yellow instead of deep brown.

“You’re a traitor,” Anakin bellowed back, finally igniting his lightsaber at his side. “You’ll turn yourself in, or I’ll bring you in myself. It’s my duty as a Jedi,” he said, not at all the confident declaration he’d meant it to be.

“Just as it was your duty to — what was it again? Eschew attachments?” Anakin flinched, but grit his teeth, determined. “My boy, Anakin, please see reason.”

“Reason? What reason? You’re-you’re a Sith!” He widened his stance as the Chancellor finally stood up from behind the desk, leaning forward on his hands against its smooth surface. His gaze burned into Anakin’s, boring in with such intensity he feared the man saw right down to the deepest, most vulnerable parts of him no matter how hard Anakin might try to keep him out. “You were my friend,” he said, nearly a whisper and not at all what he’d meant to.

“I still am.” The Chancellor smiled, but Anakin felt none of the warmth from it that he used to. “I can help you, Anakin. I can help you keep your loved ones safe in these awful times. I can give you the power to keep them safe with your own two hands. Power the Jedi could only dream of.” He paused, eyes gleaming bright and greedy as he said: “I could give you the galaxy.”

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

Rex watched his general putter about the camp, looking more a mess than usual. He seemed not unlike a droid, his every move mechanically rote as he went about his tasks and his gaze distant in that way Rex sometimes saw on shell shocked shinies. He pursed his lips, grip on his bucket tightening a fraction. Their last campaign had been rough: heavy losses and a victory won by the skin of their teeth. He’d seen how it had left the Commander, much as Ahsoka had tried to hide it, and the next one was gearing up to be just as bad or worse if the 212th were held up.

General Skywalker, however, had been worrying him since long before. He didn’t know how much his general thought he was fooling Rex — and it rankled that he might have if not for little moments like this — but he wouldn’t fool anyone if this went on much longer. He’d heard troopers talking, spotting Skywalker up at all hours of the night, amiable enough but also mumbling to himself when he thought no one would see. Rex had done his best to keep the worst of it under wraps: making up reasons for the general’s wandering, erasing the occasional unauthorized flight on his personal junker of a ship, filling in reports that skipped his notice or forging them altogether.

What he couldn’t hide, Rex waved away as a symptom of how busy Jedi generals were in general. Easy to do when the only ones to work consistently closely with them were the Commanders — and Rex, considering he filled the role for the 501st.

He’d considered telling Cody at the very least, if not General Kenobi himself, but he’d put it off. Every time he came across evidence that something was wrong, he’d brushed it off. At first with assurances that the general was just stressed. That he’d course correct on his own and all would go back to how it had been. When it worsened, Rex had asked his general directly, needing to know if whatever had happened would affect his performance — if it would put men’s lives in danger.

Anakin had looked him in the eyes that day and promised he had it handled.

Whatever “it” was.

Rex trusted his general with his life. With his brothers’ lives. So it hurt, a physical pain in his chest, to know his general didn’t trust him enough to let him help. For his general — his friend — he’d do anything, even if it got him decommissioned. Had already, to some extent.

“Captain,” a shiny said, prying his attention away from Skywalker and back to the bustle of setting up camp. “Commander Cody’s on the line for you.”

Rex nodded and shoved his bucket back on his head. He spared one last glance at his general before following the trooper back to the hastily put together command tent, wondering all the way there if this was a sign for him to speak up.

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

Anakin swallowed, mouth dry as the desert planet he’d been born on. The part of him that would always be nine and scared, then nineteen and mourning, found the offer compelling. Power to keep everyone safe: Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex and his men. To have the galaxy fall in line so wars like this one never came about again. To break the chains keeping sentients fettered, abused and terrified. To do what he wanted without the constraints the Jedi imposed upon him and all their members. It appealed so well to that not-insignificant part of him that hated his own fear and weakness and the uncertainty of the future.

It scared him, how enticing the offer was and how tempted he was to forsake everything he knew and everything he’d been taught in exchange for that promise. All that held him back was the single, nagging feeling itching at the back of his skull. He probed at it, poking at what lay below the desire and fear until he found th rest of him — the parts the darkness didn’t call to so strongly.

The parts of him molded by the people he loved, nurtured by what he’d been taught at the Jedi’s feet, and built on the foundations his Mom had laid down for him in his childhood. The parts that whispered to him to be cautious. To be vigilant. To remember that nothing so golden, so perfect, came without a cost.

What was the price to be paid for the Chancellor’s offer?

What would he lose in exchange?

Everything, that tiny part of him whispered.

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

Obi-Wan smiled at Ahsoka as she skipped back towards her and Anakin’s troops, all of them nearly finished with the necessary preparations needed to leave this Force-forsaken planet. He watched the troops mingle, chatting and catching up as much as they could. Even his commander had loosened up in the afermath of a hard-won battle, leaned against a crate of supplies as he spoke with Rex.

The only person he hadn’t been able to find in the organized chaos had been his former padawan.

Anakin seemed to have disappeared entirely, not a trace of him anywhere which seemed odd to him. He turned toward Rex and Cody, intent on asking where he might find the wayward knight, only to slow and then stop altogether when he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—know. But it’s … something.” Rex frowned, hands balled into tight fists at his side. Cody sighed.

“If he’s breaking regs,” Cody said archly, but didn’t finish the thought. Rex, in Obi-Wan’s humble opinion, looked rather much like he wanted to punch the other man.

“I’m not turning him in,” Rex hissed, low enough that Obi-Wan had to strain to hear him. “The general’s just … he’s in a bad way right now and I don’t know how to kriffing help if he won’t let me.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a thin line, drawing back before he heard Cody’s response. He hadn’t known Anakin had been doing poorly, though in what capacity he wasn’t yet sure. He’d hardly spoken to Anakin at all the last few months, busy as they’d both been. Still, if the captain was so worried, enough to bring it to Cody, then. Well.

He made a mental note to himself to check in on his former padawan. He knew the 501st were due for leave soon, a quick resupply over Coruscant that would give Anakin and Ahsoka both time to visit the Temple. Perhaps after, he’d make the call, or better yet: find some time to get their two battalions together outside of battle.

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

He breathed out, a single slow, measured breath, and set his jaw. When he looked at the Chancellor — at Sidious — his choice had been made. Sidious scowled even before Anakin spoke, wrinkled and severe and not a hint at all of the man he had trusted.

“No.” He brought his saber up into Djem So’s opening stance. “I am a Jedi, and I’ll do what I must.”

“So it’s treason, then,” Sidious sneered, pulling a lightsaber of his own from his robes. Anakin felt the last dregs of his hope drain when the blade lit, its blood-red light casting Sidious’ face into eerie relief as the lights in the room grew suddenly dim.

Anakin nodded once, a short, sharp jerk of his head. He breathed in, taking a brief moment to steel himself as the room’s tension and chill grew bloated and oppressive. For a moment neither of them moved. Coruscant itself seemed to freeze, from every sentient on-planet to its very rotation in space. And then, all at once, life exploded back into action.

Sidious leaped out from behind his desk at the same time Anakin surged forward. Their lightsabers scraped each other mid-air, the barest, buzzing touch as he kept that ominous, red blade from slicing at his shoulder. He spun quickly on his heel to meet Sidious’ offensive attack from behind. Their sabers clashed, properly locked and spitting as each of them tried to over-power the other.

He threw the entirety of his weight into every attack, pressing forward and pushing Sidious back. But nothing landed. Anakin growled, moving faster. Pushing. Pressing. But nothing. Fucking. Landed. Sidious whirled, inelegant but effective. Power bolstered by experience and skill. Every slash blocked. Every thrust parried. Every move economical and calculated and a near perfect counter to Anakin’s own aggressive style.

“You have such potential,” Sidious crooned at him, their sabers locked once again, the energy buzzing and crackling loudly in Anakin’s ears. “You could be so much more than you are, my boy.”

Anakin dug his heels in the carpet and pushed, shoving as much of the Force as he could into it even as the effort left his gasping for breath. Gasping, but victorious when it at least shut the Sith up and sent him sailing across the room if not into the wall like he’d wanted. He grinned at Sidious’ responding glower and merely adjusted his grip on his lightsaber with a shrug. Taunting Dooku’s master as much as he dared.

“Join me, Anakin,” Sidious said, unmoving from where he’d landed and looking somehow unbothered behind the anger radiating from him. “Join me and cease this foolishness.”

“Never,” he hissed, and leaped forward with help from the Force.

They clashed. Separated. Clashed again. Neither gained ground, even as Anakin found himself tiring, slowly but surely. He winced when a glancing blow caught his arm, searing and slicing a neat, shallow line from elbow to shoulder. Anakin managed a nastier slash at the Sith’s legs, and nearly laughed when he caught Sidious’ ankle as he leaped and watched him stagger on the landing.

Fury, thick and startling and like nothing Anakin had felt before even on the front lines, oozed from Sidious then. Anakin, sweating and exhausted, stilled. Tense and suddenly nervous. Something slick and malicious wrapped around his throat, and before he’d even registered that it was the Force — Sidious using the Force — it squeezed, cinched closed and cutting off his air.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Sidious said, sincerity dripping like poison from his words. “I had a plan, you see. A place for you at my side, and. Well, it might be earlier than I’d hoped, but I’m nothing if not accommodating. Don’t you agree?”

“Shut.” Anakin gagged, the invisble vice squeezing ever tighter as the seconds ticked past. “Up.” He fumbled for the Force as dark spots dotted his vision, but felt it slip through his fingers like sand. “Sith.”

Sidious hummed, paced calmly closer to Anakin like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Those were clone troopers out front, and Anakin had paid a slicer more than enough credits in his attempts to gather evidence against Sidious for at least the vague confirmation that they, specifically, could be controlled. He had no doubts, now, that Sidious, among those involved in this conspiracy, could and would do just that.

The Force squeezed a fraction harder — any more and his neck would snap — before easing, just enough for him to gasp, coughing and spluttering as fresh air returned to his burning lungs. He fell to his hands and knees, blinking back tears and the graying haze that had crept into his vision. He barely noticed when Sidious stopped in front of him and bent to pick his lightsaber up off the ground where he didn’t remember dropping it.

“What a tragedy,” Sidious said, laying a withered hand on Anakin’s head like a child needing comfort. He would have tried to bite the old man’s fingers off if he hadn’t still been struggling to catch his breath, just enough pressure still on his throat to keep him from fully recovering. “The disappearance of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, The Hero with no Fear who tried so hard to defend the Republic’s beloved Chancellor from the Separatist assassin, Ventress. Who took off in pursuit when she fled, without backup despite the Chancellor’s pleas — always a hothead, that one.”

“Shut up,” Anakin croaked, pain straining his voice. The hand in his hair tightened, not painfully. Not yet. A warning to keep silent — a warning to be ignored as soon as he could fucking breath again.

“What a shame,” Sidious continued, “how the young man was caught unawares.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped, fear like ice crawling through his veins as the meaning behind Sidious’ monologue finally started to register. He moved and the pressure on his throat worsened in response. He shouldn’t have come. The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have told someone. Should have tried harder to gather evidence against the Chancellor, even though he’d lost sleep over it for months — trying and failing and trying again only to come up empty-handed every time. Sdious was smart and his plan had been in motion probably for longer than Anakin had been alive.

Even if they’d never believe him, he should have told someone.

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

“Padmé.” Anakin said her name like it was the sun itself and he a man without its light all his life.

She smiled, held his face between the palms of her hands, and pulled him down into one of the softest, gentlest kisses they’d shared since the war had started. He practically melted against her, boneless if not quite relaxed. She pulled back first, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she studied his face. He hadn’t looked great the last time they’d talked over a holo, but now he looked worse.

The bags under his eyes were deep, dark smudges that looked like bruises in the dim light of her apartment. He looked drawn, paler than a man on the front lines more often than not should be, with dry, chapped lips and a gauntness to him that might have been as much a trick of the light as the early signs that he’d not been eating well. His hands trembled against her waist, a fine tremor she felt through the thin nightdress he’d caught her in. She hadn’t expected him to come by, not so late at night and certainly not looking half-dead.

“Anakin, what’s wrong? Should I call a healer?” she asked, smoothing a thumb over his lips, his cheek, under his eye. He shook his head, turning so he could kiss her palm. He ran so warm normally that it scared her to feel him so cold. Like death, she thought and it sent a foreboding thrill down her spine.

“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his bright, blue eyes never leaving hers. She’d have found it romantic if not for how much it scared her just then.

“You’re scaring me, Anakin. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He lifted one hand told hold hers, the same one he’d kissed, and brushed his lips over her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again and Padmé thought she might cry from how wretched he sounded. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Don’t go to work. Stay here.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“Anakin, I can’t just— just skip. There’s an important bill we’re trying to pass and if I’m not there—” He squeezed her hand, not painfully but not gently either, and she snapped her mouth shut. “Anakin?” She moved to touch his face again, but he drew back. She gasped, a quiet, hurt noise pulled from her lips.

“Just tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. Scared. “Just tomorrow, please Angel. Please.” She swallowed, wide eyed and trembling now herself, but nodded.

“Alright. Alright, I promise, but only if you tell me what’s going on. Okay?” He hesitated, but acquiesced.

“After,” he said and she said nothing else before pulling him to bed by the hand.

He curled up beside her, pressed as close as physically possible with his head pressed to her breast as she kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand through his unruly hair. She didn’t know how long they laid there, silent but awake before sleep claimed her. When she woke, he was gone and the place in her bed where he’d lain had gone cold. In his place were a note and a datastick.

I’m Sorry, the note read, written in his slanted, messy cursive. Padmé felt tears prick at her eyes, something thick and awful and nauseating curling in her stomach as she picked the datastick up and moved to plug it into the datapad she kept on her nightstand.

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

He closed his eyes, let the pang of regret flow down and into him, then, finally, out. It came so suddenly easy, feeling what he needed before letting go, that he wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. All his time as a Jedi he’d struggled, and he chose this moment to finally embrace — understand — what it was they’d been trying to teach him all along.

“Get to the point,” he said, trying to sound brave and not like he could fall apart at any second. The hand in his hair pulled, jerked his head up so he could look at those ugly, Sith eyes and Sidious’ grotesque grin. He’d spit if he could, but the Force tightened on his throat like Sidious had plucked the thought from his mind.

“The point,” the Sith hissed, “is that I will not waste the years I spent molding my perfect Apprentice.” Sidious crooned the word like it should mean more to Anakin. Like it shouldn’t make him sick to his stomach. “There is a place for you at my side, boy, whether you are there willingly or not.”

Sidious let him go, so suddenly he nearly fell on his face. Anakin blinked, confused as he pushed himself up, and caught the edge of that same, awful grin. Saw Sidious raise a hand, fingers splayed and pointing at him, and then nothing at all as he crackle of electricity and his own screaming filled the room.

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

Mace’s head throbbed, the same pounding pain that had lingered in his temples for months now. A shatterpoint, he knew, but any specific knowledge about it had remained firmly out of reach. Regardless of his headache — he’d had long years of practice managing it — he strolled into the Council’s Chambers, calm as a Jedi Master should be despite the urgency of the emergency meeting called. Problems, it seemed, just loved to pile up. First, an attack on the Chancellor in his own office the week before, then the disappearance of Knight Skywalker, and now whatever new event had cropped up.

He sighed, taking his seat among the mix of present Councilors. All of them, he was surprised to note, though most had called in via holo. Once he’d been seated, the room quieted and every eye turned to Master Yoda who’d called them together. The old troll’s face looked grim, his ears drooped as he all but hunched over his gimmer stick. Slick, icy dread slithered down Mace’s spine, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever the old Master had to say.

“Master Yoda?” Kenobi’s voice, mildly tinny over the holo, broke the silence when Master Yoda failed to speak up. The old Master seemed to wilt even further.

“Received a recording, we did, from Dooku.” Every Jedi in the room jerked, though none looked more than serenly alarmed at the news. “A datapad, he sent, early this morning. And another a gift.” Yoda’s voice wavered on the last word, just enough to be noticeable.

“May we see the device?” Plo Koon tipped his head to one side as he asked the question, a request made more for Yoda’s benefit than because any of them had any real need to see Dooku’s message for themselves.

Yoda shook his head and said: “With the investiators, it is. Work, they will, to see if a trick this is not. Deceiving us, Dooku may be.”

“Deceiving us?” Master Kolar leaned forward in his seat, a frown marring his features. Master Yoda nodded.

“Bring news, he does, of our missing knight.” Mace saw Kenobi jolt at the statement, wide-eyed. His fellow councilor had been devastated at the news of his former padawan’s disappearance. A few of the other Master’s spared Kenobi a sympathetic glance, before returning their attention to Master Yoda. “Claim, he does, that Knight Skywalker’s death his assassin, Ventress, is responsible for. Chased, he says she was, after thwarting an attempt on the Chancellor by young Skywalker she was.”

“Anakin,” Kenobi started, voice strangled. Mace frowned, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his fingers as he closed his eyes. “Anakin has fought Ventress many times, and come out unscathed before. To claim she killed him…” he trailed off.

“A gift, Dooku sent as well,” Yoda reminded.

The earlier chill in Mace’s spine solidified into a pit behind his stomach, a near physical weight as he said, low and pained: “Proof.”

The room was silent. Still. Their combined dread and anticipation thickened the air until it grew hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

Mace opened his eyes. He looked first to Obi-Wan, lips thinned but otherwise wearing a perfectly blank mask, and then to Master Yoda’s own grief-stricken face.

“His prosthetic and saber I have kept here to show you, but the rest. To the Healers for tests it has gone.”

“Healers?” Obi-Wan’s blank facade cracked. Mace was sure Obi-Wan’s face would have been pale as a sheet if not for the blue-tint of he holo-image projected onto his chair. Yoda said nothing for a long time, though Mace didn’t know if it was reluctance or grief that stalled him. “Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, and Mace felt sympathetic tears prick at his eyes for all the grief he could hear in that word alone. “Please.”

“Fingers,” Yoda said, grave and bland and disgusted. “Knight Skywalker’s, the Healers confirmed not long ago.”

Mace heard a few of the Masters’ gasp, and Obi-Wan’s own strangled, horrified noise, but Mace kept silent. Let his eyes slip closed once more, and bowed his head as a wave of bitter grief swept over him.

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

Anakin never woke for long, but when he did there were always two constants: pain and Sidious.

And hope. Always hope.

That Padmé had read what he’d left on the datastick — not enough but a start, and she’d always been so much smarter than him — and forgave him for the lie. For leaving.

Hope that Sidious would choke on his food and die, even if it meant Anakin rotted away in this cell.

Hope that the apologies he’d written to Ahsoka, Rex, and Obi-Wan made it to them, even if he hadn’t included half as much information in them as he had in his Angel’s.

And hope that maybe, one day, he might be saved. That Sidious’ attempt to deceive everyone would, at least this once, fail.

“How much longer will you remain disobedient, my Apprentice,” Sidious said as he slipped into the cell. Anakin closed his eyes for only a brief moment before turning a glare on his captor.

“Dunno,” he croaked, “how much longer ‘r you gonna live?”

Sidious hissed and repaid him with a blast of lightning in response.

Anakin screamed.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #betrayal #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #fic #violence #implied torture #fake death #loss of limbs #my fanfic #the only limbs lost are fingers and it's only mentioned not shown

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Max?

A/N: Black Sails has taken over my life so here you go

Pairing: Max x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature 

Beautiful gif!! By dindjariins (from the gif finder thingy in tumblr)

Do you remember me, Max?

Do you remember the first night I came into your house?

I walked through those doors which had previously been shut to me, through the crowd of sneering men I didn’t belong with and women who thought me too arrogant to even look in their direction. I passed members of my crew who snarled and laughed at me, asked if I planned to leave them and ask you for a job instead. As one of your girls. I knew I’d have to face them and everything else when the sun came up, but right then, I didn’t care. I didn’t answer them or the women asking me what it was that I wanted.

I only looked for you.

It didn’t take long to find you.

Though your house was always chaotic and loud, full of people grinding and hooting and cackling or running around to find someone cheaper or shorter or wider, the chaos was always controlled. The customers turned to leaves in the wind and it all revolved around you. You were the eye of the storm.

When I laid my eyes on you, saw you sitting at that table in the back of the room, the one in the corner by the fireplace with your legs crossed and your dainty little arm strewn across the back of your chair, you were already looking at me. Watching me as if you’d kept your eyes on me from the moment my boot hit the sand of the island. Like you could see through the people, the walls and doors, the buildings and the trees and had been watching me since I arrived.

Had I interested you from the beginning?

I only ask because all I had to do was look at you and you stood from your chair and came to me. You made your way through the leaves in the wind, whispering to some, adjusting others, but keeping your gaze on me with every step. Your hips swiveled as you slid past chairs and tables, your chin floated with pure confidence. You knew who you were, what you had and what you were about to have. One would think you were dripping with knives from the way everyone stepped out of your way. Even the drunks didn’t dare touch you.

But it wasn’t weapons you were flaunting. 

It was power.

You passed that power onto me the moment you took my hand and led me up those stairs. Whoever built that house of yours must have erected that staircase for that exact reason- to make every trip up or down them a performance. This was the most revered overture to ever grace your stage, but it was also the shortest. It ceased the moment you led me into the bedroom.

The remaining acts were meant for us two alone. 

Do you recall how it began? Once you closed the door? I do. I think about it often when I’m at sea. Alone.

I reminisce about one of your hands tugging at your corset strings while the other made the lock on the door click. When I moved to untie my tunic, or unlatch my belt, or remove my boot, you stopped me. 

“Just watch,” you said.

These were the first words you’d ever said that were directed at me and only me. Just watch.

So I did.

I watched your delicate fingers pull at the strings of your dress with such precision, it was as if you were plucking at a violin instead. The sound of the outfit’s heavy outer boning fell to the floor, acting as a musical reward, as did the skirting and bodice that followed. Soon after, there was a last point of percussion made by the clip that once held your hair neatly on the back of your head.

There the music stopped.

The only applause allowed was the sound of your bare footsteps as you crossed the floor to me. I can still feel you tucking yourself against me, wrapping your arms around my waist and pressing your breasts against mine, brushing the tip of your nose up my neck and against my chin. No man had ever moved so tenderly against me before, equipping me with a uniform of armor rather than a stifling cage.

When I returned the embrace, you asked me.

“Have you ever loved another woman before?”

I remember trying to think of something to say, some answer that wouldn’t lead to something drawn out and pitiful. 

Then you kissed my neck.

Then you tugged my tunic out of my trousers and pulled it all over my head, leaving me half bare before you.

Then you looked into my eyes before you looked down at my body, as if you wanted all of me and not just my breasts or my ass or my cunt. I wasn’t just something to squeeze or a place to keep your hands warm.

Is that true?

“She’s the reason you are here,” you said.

“Who?”

“The woman you loved. She led you here or pushed you here, no?” Your fingers found a spot on my neck, then one above my left breast, on the middle of my ribcage, on my belly and hip just above the line of my trousers. 

You said, “People like you don’t come to this island of their own accord. They’re sent into piracy for a reason.” You touched the bone of my brow, finding the last one. “These scars are new, received in these last weeks. I’ve seen enough of them to know that.”

“It’s not a mystery I’m new to Nassau. I could have satisfied your curiosity if you had simply asked me. No need to get me naked for that.”

In reply, you shoved my trousers down my legs and your hands fell from my waist to my bottom. You squeezed the flesh as you said, “I had many reasons to get you naked. First and foremost, I wanted you in my bed.”

They used to tell me of your beauty. Besides your body and skills, they talked of your soft curls, your all-knowing hands, and most popularly, your eyes. More specifically the golden flecks of glitter hiding under feathery lashes. But as you looked up at me with your body pressed to mine and your hands where no mere acquaintance should ever have them, I saw no lightness in your eyes. No sparkling like sunlight on the water. Just black.

“One night in my bed,” you told me. “One night in my bed and you’ll never think of her again.”

You were right.

Though it’s never the smartest idea to skimp on precious sleep the night before your ship departs, that is exactly what I did. I left you at dawn with a kiss and a note and miraculously, despite my concern, not a crew member let even a peep loose about my night with you. In fact, I was treated with a new silent respect. I was given someone new, someone who deserved my attentions, to think of during the day and dream about at night. A woman to live for, to steal for, to return to this wretched island for.

So here I am.

Do you remember me now, Max?

#max #black sails #max black sails

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

SuperChat September 19- Ghost Hunters

Masterlist

“Why are we doing this. Why are we doing this. Why are we doing this.” Adrien chanted as he, Luka, and Marinette looked around the catacombs they had just descended into with their cameraman Nino. “Luka hold me.” He said latching onto the older man with one arm while still moving his own video camera yawing the night vision to see the walls.

“It will be okay Adrien.” Luka said calmly patting his back gently and he and Marinette shared a smile. “Plus we have been all over the world investigating places, and yet we never investigate the one place everyone has talked about. France’s catacombs, a place that has been under our feet for years.” Adrien pouted looking up at him.

“Stop being so inspirational.” He sighed looking into the camera Nino held. “They point out daily that I am just the pretty face of the team.”

“Oh Adrien that’s not true.” Marinette said, turning with a mischievous smirk. “You’re also the bait.” Adrien gasped dramatically and looked at her with a pout while the three laughed softly. “Alright, we are splitting up. Adrien and Nino, Luka and I. Remember the rope clipped onto your belt will lead you right back here. If you get lost you must follow it back. On top of that make sure to constantly check any evidence you get and make sure it is not contaminated. We have another team down here investigating as well. Oh and only use your walkie talkies if it is an emergency.” Everyone nodded before parting together Adrien leading them even though he pouted at the idea.

“I hate this. I could be at home cuddling with Plagg, but instead I’m here.” He said softly, talking to himself. Nino snorted softly, whispering to the camera.

“Plagg is his cat, the thing is a devil that is only nice to him and Marinette.” Adrien stopped walking and pulled out a recorder.

“Let’s start with our trusty, non-dusty recorder.” Adrien smiled at the camera as he started recording. “Hello, I’m Adrien. What’s your name?” He waited a pause before asking another question. “How old were you when you died?” He asked softly, moving his camera to look down the tunnel. “How did you die?” He paused once again allowing ample time for a possible response. “Are you stuck here?” After a short moment he stopped recording, before playing it back. Not hearing anything until they reached the second to last question. ‘War...Nazis’ Adrien grinned slightly holding the recorder to the camera playing it again. “Thank you for responding to us.” He said softly, putting the recorder away before pulling out the spirit box. “Let’s walk a further down before we use this one.” Nino agreed and the two began walking again talking softly as they reached a corner only for Adrien to run head force into Jon sending both of them to the ground. Adrien was not proud to admit that he screamed in complete and utter fear. Scrambled trying to get off Jon who was quick to grab his hands gently.

“Hey, hey calm down.” He said softly trying to calm Adrien who always near panic attack on top of him. Damian turned on his light, Nino following a second after. “There now we can both see.” Jon said looking up into Adrien’s green eyes. Adrien took a few deep breaths as his eyes focused on Jon. A blush slowly covering his face when he realized he was sitting on the man's pelvis. He looked away not wanting to meet the other’s eyes.

“I found the others that were investigating tonight.” He said softly causing Nino to snort. Jon’s eyes widened as he realized who exactly he was sitting on. While Damian moved to stand next to Nino.

“Hey, you’re Adrien Agreste!” He said with excitement filling his eyes. Adrien turned back to him in surprise before realizing that he probably knew him from his teen years as a model. “And you’re Nino Lahiffe! You are members of my favorite ghost show Miraculous Ghosts! I follow you all on Instagram and Twitter!” He surprises the two completely, as Damian suggested they finally get off the ground. This caused Adrien to blush more as he finally got off the other man.

“I am so sorry.” Adrien said, helping him up. “I totally panicked, I knew another crew was here but I really wasn’t expecting to run head first into them.” Jon smiled dusting himself off.

“It’s fine really don’t worry. I’m more excited over the fact that I got to meet you guys. You’ve explored so many places compared to us, are the others with you?” He asked, glancing at Nino before looking back at Adrien. Who smiled nodded as he tugged on the rope attached to his belt.

“Yea, Marinette and Luka are off together Nino and I were paired together.” Adrien picked up his camera and spirit box as he talked, checking over to make sure it wasn’t damaged. “This was going to be our hometown visit for the season. Since we have never been down in the catacombs. Do you two have a show?” Jon scratches his head slightly embarrassed glancing over at Jon.

“We have a small show but it’s on YouTube, we are nowhere near your level.” This caused Adrien and Nino to chuckle slightly sharing a look.

“Don’t be down about that. The only reason we have a big production show is because Marinette’s Uncle and Luka’s dad pushed to get us a show.” Jon’s eyes widened in surprise at the new information. “We were content with just a YouTube show but he likes to go all out. That is why we have so few episodes this isn’t our day job. I’m actually in school to be a lawyer right now.” Nino looked at his watch before interrupting the two.

“Hey we are running out of time. What if we finish this investigation together, we’ll do a special episode together.” Damian thought of that before agreeing.

“It would be smart, we could share what we find. It would also give us a bit more publicity.” Jon thought about it before nodding.

“That sounds great! Oh we are doing a few more locations after this one before returning to America, if you guys are free would you like to join us?”

Adrien smiled nodding.

“You caught us at a good time. This is technically our vacation period. I’m sure the rest of our crew would be happy to investigate other places together.” Adrien said before holding up the spirit box. “Now let’s get hunting.”

@superchat-september2k20

#miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #adrien agreste #ml x dc #dc comics #dc universe #jon kent #superchat #superchat september

[suponts]

SADIE “SADE” DUPONT ( BRIANNA HILDEBRAND ) is a/an  EIGHTEEN year old teenager from FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA. SHE is known around the island as the RECLUSE because they’re RESOURCEFUL and DURABLE but can also be RESERVED and DISTRUSTFUL. SHE reminds of calloused fingers,  ripped skinny jeans, and a dented camera.

BASIC INFORMATION

NAME: sadie elizabeth dupont

NICKNAMES: sade

BIRTHDAY: january 7, 2002

AGE: 18

HOMETOWN: fargo, north dakota

BIRTHPLACE: fargo, north dakota

RELIGION: atheist

ETHNICITY: german, english, irish, and mexican

NATIONALITY: american

EDUCATION: high school

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: it’s complicated single

SOCIAL CLASS: below poverty line

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 5′3

EYES: brown

HAIR: black

BUILD: muscular but not ‘cut’

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: burn mark from a cigarette butt on her inner, right forearm, stick ‘n poke tattoo of a queen of hearts playing card (inner bicep, right arm) and an angry cat (left thumb), notched scar in her left brow

NOTABLE FEATURES: pierced ears

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: slight limp in her left leg from falling out of a window when she was 12

ALLERGIES: none

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR

HOBBIES: music (guitar), photography, film, people watching, spending time with marnie, petty theft.

LIKES: being alone, cartoons, indie and rock music, the scent of fresh leather and coffee, staying up late sleeping in late, nighttime, quiet observation, bike riding.

DISLIKES: people in better circumstances than herself, the taste of pink bubblegum, crowded places, alcohol, second-hand clothing, meeting new people, feeling like she doesn’t ‘fit in,’ feeling like people are staring at her

QUIRKS: she almost always stands with her arms folded, even if she isn’t upset. it’s an unconscious gesture. she sleeps curled up in a ball with her hands tucked under her cheek. she still uses a walkman. though she says it’s because she thinks it’s cool, the truth is she couldn’t afford an ipod or an iphone. she tends to stand with her weight shifted to one foot.

STRENGTHS: durability. sade is a tough cookie and her instinct is to always get up when she’s been knocked down, even if it means she forgets to check if she’s been hurt. observant. sade isn’t overly talkative, and though she can be combative, she always listens and takes note of what is going on around her. responsive. sade is great at thinking on her feet and getting herself out of ‘tight squeezes,’ even if it’s by the skin of her teeth. faithfulness. although sade is slow to trust and even slower to love, once she becomes attached to someone she’s completely devoted to them (sometimes to the point of it becoming a dependent relationship). physical strength. though sade looks small, becoming ‘strong’ has been a personal goal of hers since she was a child. perhaps one of the only students to take gym class seriously, she also incorporated workouts outside of school when possible. when sade started getting involved with the criminal population in her city, it required agility and physical strength on her part. Though not formally trained in any sense, she had to be able to defend herself, to get away, to climb over, under, and around dangerous places (sometimes while carrying very heavy bags). As a result, she’s deceptively strong.

WEAKNESSES: untrusting. sade grew up in an unstable home environment with little support from those around her. she’s trusted the wrong people before and faced negative consequences because of it. as a result she assumes people have ill intent and holds most people at arm’s length. uncooperative. sade doesn’t know how to work on a team. she’s always done things independently, and though it has made her adept at problem solving, she has a bad habit of going off on her own, not communicating, and thinking for herself rather than the welfare of everyone. dealing with natural environments. though sade has experience dumpster diving and foraging in urban settings, she has little to no knowledge about survival in a real wilderness. she doesn’t know how to start a fire or how to find shelter that doesn’t involve a bridge or a hastily constructed pile of cardboard boxes.

POSITIVE TRAITS: efficient, hardy, observant, creative 

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  judgmental, distant, independent, insecure

MENTAL DISABILITIES: idk if this is the right term for it, but she does have PTSD from her home life

SHARE 5 FUN FACTS ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

one: "sadie” was her grandmother’s name. sade’s dad always told her that her mom was really big on family names, but as sade grew up she felt like the name didn’t fit, preferring to clip it to ‘sade.’ her parents always called her ‘sadie’ anyways.

two: she’s actually pretty good at sewing as long as something can be hand-stitched. her family didn’t have money for new clothes so being able to patch up rips and tears was a necessity.

three: she’s a good singer, though she thinks she’s terrible and insists she can only play the guitar. the only person she’s sang for at this point is marnie.

four: sade has never seen the ocean until now. though she finds it beautiful, she’s also frightened of it’s unpredictability and the breadth of its power.

five: though sade is rather serious and a bit moody, she also has a goofy streak once she’s comfortable. she’s quick to make offhanded jokes and dry, sarcastic remarks, but she’s been known to do something as extreme as trying to walk backwards on her hands to make marnie laugh.

WHAT WAS YOUR CHARACTER WEARING ON THE FLIGHT?

a striped turtleneck that once belonged to her mother. faded. she’s wearing an oversized tee shirt over the top that she got for $1 at value village. it’s a band t from a group Sade doesn’t recognize, but she thought the patchy logo of an alien driving a car through outer space looked cool

oversized red flannel. second hand. there was a large rip in the elbo that sade stitched up, leaving a small scar of black thread behind

black second-hand jeans with a rip in the knee, secured at the waist with one of her mom’s old leather belts

socks with a hole in the right heel, black doc martens marnie gave to her a few years ago when she outgrew them. they’re patchy and worn, but they still have the heels attached so sade held onto them.

braided friendship bracelet from marnie; the colors are light pink, black, and gray. there’s a silver crescent moon charm tied at the tassel. 

silver ring on her thumb - a birthday gift from marnie a few years back. it’s shaped like a silver bird and has a black stone in it’s chest

silver heart locket. sade wears it under her clothes because she hates the way it looks, but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it. it was a gift from her mother. inside there’s a small, hand cut photo of her mother holding sade as a baby. sade had considered scratching it out or pasting marnie in over it, but she can’t bring herself to do it. instead she pasted a little photo of marnie in the other open window to try and make it feel more like it’s her own choice to keep the locket rather than an item she can’t escape.

PLEASE LIST 3 PERSONAL ITEMS OF YOUR CHARACTER THAT WASHED UP ON SHORE

1. her camera. it’s old and runs on polaroids. she’d gotten it second-hand and taught herself how to piece it back into functionality. there are 7 photos left.

2./3. her guitar inside of her guitar case. it’s an acoustic and once belonged to her mother. the case is covered in old, vintage stickers and has the initials of people sade doesn’t recognized carved into it. miraculously, the case protected the guitar in the crash and prevented it from getting completely water damaged.

pinterest

#wilds.intro #headcanons ; sade