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1d1195 · 9 months

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Protection I

Okay I did the quickest of Google searches to get some of this info, please don't hold it against me. I have no idea what I’m doing as usual.

Hope you enjoy, I'm looking forward to writing more of it.

5.2k words

“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.

“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently.

Harry was ready.

He ironed a white button-down shirt and paired it with a blue tie. He put on a grey suitcoat over it to match the slacks he picked out along with black dress shoes that he had long since broken in. In fact, he thought he could probably run a marathon in them if necessary.

He looked over his freshly shaven face, rubbing his jaw with a face lotion his sister got him for his birthday last year. He used the mirror to fix a few astray pieces of hair that refused to sit neatly but not perfectly flat on his head. Part of him wished he didn’t volunteer to do this because his stomach was flipping with anxiety. Sure, he was used to this. Used to the nerves and the first day jitters. It was a good job and was hopefully going to be a great way to see the country. While his English accent made him stick out a bit, it also helped him blend a bit into the background; no one would think that Harry was a special agent there to protect a family member of the US cabinet.

Plus, he was doing Niall a huge favor. Niall was the one that got Harry a job with the Diplomatic Security Service in the first place, so he owed it to Niall to at least try. Make his friend look good and not ruin his reputation. One of Niall’s favorite coworkers was the one that trained Harry to be an agent for the DSS, since Niall wasn’t one. But Niall was the one that had heard horror stories of the girl that wreaked havoc on many of the agents put in place to protect her. Going toe to toe with her meant a more...fulfilling job...after a couple months. At least that’s what Niall had heard and shared with Harry.

“I don’t know what her issue is Harry. But you’re all but DSS’s last hope,” he said. Niall didn’t have to take a round against her. He wasn’t an agent in the protection division. He sat behind a desk going over paperwork. Frequently the paperwork assigning and reassigning the girl’s security detail. But he knew Harry needed a job and he was happy to recommend him. He vouched for him, but Niall was certain the agency would have taken someone off the street and thrown them in the ring at this stage in the game.

Harry was on the younger side. Close to her age, so he had been told in the interview. Maybe that would help. He seemed unfazed. It was just a job. She was just a girl. They had to protect her. But through all he heard, it didn’t sound like they really wanted to protect her all that much anymore.

How much trouble could a twenty-four-year-old graduate biochemistry student get up to?

Niall wished him luck as Harry was debriefed once more about his job. Keep an eye on her, run checks on people she interacts with, make sure she doesn’t die. “Her father is Secretary of State,” they reminded Harry.

Harry nodded. “Got it.”

He took the address that was sent to him into his phone’s GPS and followed the directions to the apartment complex in the small, undercover black SUV issued to him. There was bulletproof glass protecting him from the outside world and tinted windows hiding him through the glass. His mum messaged him.

Good luck, honey bun!

He smirked. Harry may have been twenty-nine, but his Mum’s messages made him feel like a little kid. He adored her, all the way across the pond recognizing what time it was so she could make sure to send him a good luck text as she always had; first day of university, first real job, or even just a trip to the dentist (Harry hated the dentist).

The little apartment complex was inconspicuous. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a brick building with several floors—it couldn’t have been more than 8 apartments. A buzzer door and buttons along the side. The code was sent to him to let himself in.

It’s just a girl. He reminded himself.

Harry took the stairs to the top and fourth floor. It gave him time to calm his nerves and plan his approach based on the way he heard the tales from coworkers. Maybe he would try and befriend her? Harry was down to be friends with her if she wanted. Or maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should just try and out-stubborn her. Harry and Gemma used to have contests about who could hold their breath longest when they were young. Harry wasn’t against passing out in the name of winning.

The final steps to her apartment were silent. The current agent at the door looked at Harry with relief. He saluted him, muttered good luck, and hurried back down. Surprised by the immediate departure, Harry gently knocked on the door. The man didn’t even confirm that Harry was his relief. “DSS,” he said quietly to the door.

It took a moment, but at once the door was out of the way. She was shorter than Harry—which arguably wasn’t hard to do with his six-foot frame. Her hair was pulled back by a clip at the back of her head, some strands falling from it to frame her round face. She had a freckle on her brow line and Harry found it unbelievably cute and surprised himself that it was one of the first things he noticed. The space between her eyebrows was pinched together and Harry wanted to smooth it out because even though she was going to be a pain in his ass, she was adorable. Her eyes scanned him quickly and he hoped despite the stories he had heard that she would at least appreciate his professionalism. Her lips were pressed together—not hard, just...resting against one another. Harry was quick to realize it was the least professional thing he could think of: staring at her mouth.

Mum always re-quoted that the eyes were windows to the soul. It was always the first thing Harry noted when he pursued a girl. He loved the idea of gazing into her eyes and trying to find out more about her just through her irises. Maybe if he looked into hers, he would understand why a short little thing like her could scare an entire division of special agents with varying degrees of combat training or intelligence operations.

Her lips pursed into a mocking smile, and she spoke. “Oh, I get it. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude,” she rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Not even a hello. No introduction. Feisty. Right away.

“I’m sorry?”

“Daddy dearest only sent you here because the last seven agents couldn’t handle the paperwork that I made them do. I escape a lot.”

Harry sighed. “Thought y’were gonna be easy,” it was a fib. He knew she was going to be difficult but maybe if he played the part she wouldn’t be as tough on him.

“Nope,” she said petulantly, like that was going to piss Harry off. He assumed it worked on the others that came before him.

Harry could play the petulant game. He was the younger sibling after all. He nodded. “Got it. Well. M’name is Harry. I won’t bother you. I’ll be here if you’d like t’get t’know me. Or when y’leave,” he pulled the door shut and stood beside it. Hands behind his back, listening to the silence inside the door.

“Is this a joke?” She asked through the wood after a full minute. He didn’t respond. The door opened.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked without looking at her. He could see her in his peripheral.

“No,” she looked at Harry curiously. “You’re not going to...try?” She wondered.

“Try what?” He asked innocently staring at the wall opposite her door.

She shook her head and sighed. “Uh... I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, uncomfortableness rang in her voice. Harry turned to her, honestly a bit surprised at how readily she apologized. Didn’t seem like something that would be in her repertoire. “Do you want to come in?” She asked. See? Harry thought. She could be perfectly reasonable. “I have seats... you don’t have to stand out here the whole time,” she murmured.

“Thanks, love,” he said politely and followed her through the doorway. He dropped his bag into a seat closest to the door. It just had the department issued computer inside it.

The space was homey. Again, he was surprised by the contrast of the stories he heard versus the sunny outward appearance. He expected rage which he wasn’t sure how that would translate exactly into interior design, but he thought it would be messy. The only hint of a mess was a spot on the coffee table littered with papers and notebooks and a laptop. The grey sofa was also covered with papers and a plain black backpack.

He did not anticipate it being a pretty place. It could rival a florist shop. There were prints of flowers hung on a white mat with black frames at regular spaced intervals. Vinelike garlands decorated with an array of pink flowers of all sorts draped along the slate blue (nearly grey) painted walls near the top of each of the three walls making up the big room—almost like a bordered edge. The fourth wall was the back of the kitchen and contained various appliances leaving no room for flowers, but Harry thought she probably tried when she moved in anyway.

The whole room was open: the sitting room, the dining area, and the kitchen. There were two loveseat sofas, one a modern grey facing the TV. The other perpendicular to the grey one; a solid navy blue that sat in front of three windows. Each window had a sheer grey curtain that matched the sofa, draped with more vines of flowers across all three windows of course. Between the TV and the grey sofa was a grey coffee table and besides the papers and notebooks, there was of course a little vase with pink sunflowers. A large bookshelf was to the left of her TV stand.

In the back corner beside the door was a round dining table and four mismatched dining chairs where Harry had dropped his bag. Another little vase sat in the middle of the table with more pink flowers. The kitchen smelled yummy. Like bacon. That was as much as he could see from the entryway. There was a short little hall but hidden behind a wall he couldn’t see around but assumed a bedroom and a bathroom were around there.

“S’a very nice place,” he murmured.

She was still staring at him as if he just said he liked to eat handfuls of dirt and drink from the river. “Thank you,” she said kindly after a beat of silence. Like she thought maybe it was a trick. “I...I don’t really have any plans tonight. I’ll be studying for an exam I have tomorrow...you could honestly probably leave if you wanted to,”

He thought she sounded genuine but given all the stories, he wasn’t sure. “I’d rather stay put. I can go back in the hall if that would make you more comfortable,” he suggested. “But may I see the rest of the place or would y’rather I wait till later? When you’re less busy?” He asked.

She blinked almost surprised. Harry imagined she wasn’t used to privacy but since he wanted her to like him, he thought respecting her boundaries was going to be the easiest way to do it. Most of her previous details were older. They probably had children of their own around her age or younger and thought treating her like one of their own and bossing her around would be easy. In all the meetings Harry attended and interviews and explanations of the girl before him not once did they seem to note she was an adult.

“Oh...uh...yeah,” she mumbled and gestured for him to walk down the hall. He was right: a bedroom and a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a second bedroom. It didn’t seem like the space was big enough from the outside. She opened all the doors. “This one’s the spare,” she said and showed him the room with nothing but a bed and small three drawer dresser and a chair that looked like it belonged in a college dorm in the corner. There was a door leading to a closet (he assumed). Compared to the main room, it was lackluster given there wasn’t a single flower in the room.

Along the same wall was the bathroom. The room was the same slate grey as the sitting room. The shower curtain was white, with a pattern of pink flowers. The fuzzy bathmat and hand towels matched the pink flowers. A little flowerpot was placed on a shelf hanging above the toilet, but Harry could have predicted at this point that pink flowers would be in the little pot. A chic gold brushed mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet hung over the sink with the same gold brushed faucet fixtures. A linen closet opposite the light switch right as you walked in, no door to it so he could see her well-stocked array of bathroom necessities, extra towels, and cleaning supplies.

“My room,” she shrugged and pushed the door open. Another bookshelf was draped with green vines. Fascinating. She liked to read a lot, it seemed. A long dresser was beneath the window along the back wall. A nightstand with a biochemistry textbook and a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was closest to the door near the top of her bed. A weird pair of books for late night reading, he thought. Harry would have to pick the non-textbook one up at the bookstore later. Find another way to relate to her. This room was painted a light blue—so light it was almost white. More vines and flowers. Her bed was made neatly. This time slate-blue-almost-grey color again. Once more pink flowers.

“Are y’a botanist?” He asked, turning back for the main room. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time staring at her room and make her uncomfortable.

She smirked, closing the door following behind him. “Just love color and flowers,” she shrugged. “The grey makes it pop,” she explained. “But I wanted a little bluer for my bedroom. Didn’t want it to seem all dreary.” It was the furthest from dreary.

“S’lovely.”

“Well thanks,” she repeated, just as graciously as before.

She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “You can make yourself at home, there’s some drinks in the fridge—non-alcoholic of course, since you’re on the job, but I wouldn’t tell anyway,” she murmured and began scribbling on her papers almost instantly.

Harry felt deeply surprised. He pulled his laptop out and checked the emails. The internal messaging system alerted him that Niall had sent a message. How is she?

Fine. He responded.

Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket immediately. It was Niall. “FINE?” He asked in shock.

Harry shrugged. “Yes.”

Niall released a breath through his lips in surprise. “I can’t believe it. Usually she has people begging for reassignment after five minutes.”

Harry looked over at the girl working at the coffee table. He looked back at his laptop. “Don’t know,” he murmured.

“You can tell whoever you’re talking to that I’m not the bitch everyone makes me out to be if you’re fucking nice to me,” she grumbled.

Harry smirked. “I like her,” he said loud enough for her to hear. But she didn’t pause at all. Nor did she stray from her position or what she was doing to notice Harry’s kind comment.

She left Harry in the main room. He would stay until midnight when some woman would take over the detail. She didn’t hate the woman. She at least allowed her privacy when she wanted it. But she was surprised how much she liked Harry and they’d hardly interacted beyond an exchange of pleasantries. Him leaving in a couple hours seemed unfair.

Harry already had her phone number and he told her he would send her a message, so she had his in case of an emergency. “Not sure what emergency exists in my bedroom,” she muttered. He smirked and shrugged.

“Protocol, love,” he said. So he was one of those. She thought.

She liked his accent. Honestly, she liked everything about Harry. He was gorgeous. It was shocking. There was a moment where she forgot she was supposed to be agitated by her security detail when he introduced himself. It was almost instinctive that her hand wanted to reach out and play with his brown locks that curved every which way around his head. His eyes were this piercing green that she felt the desire to repaint her room the same emerald color. She nearly had to crane her neck to see all six feet of him. And in a simple suit, he was just...beautiful.

But then he pulled the door shut not taking her shit for even a second. Her brain felt out of sorts as she tried to reconcile the attitude, she wanted to have against the one she felt. Not once did someone just back off her. Maybe having someone closer to her age was the trick. But she didn’t want a security detail. Right?

Harry was so utterly polite, complimenting her place, respecting her boundaries as much as possible given his position. Ugh. He was ruining all the hard work she had put in to be a bitch toward DSS.

Fortunately, her phone vibrated as she closed the door to her bedroom. It was a friend from one of her classes telling her they were having a round of drinks before their final exam in the morning. She didn’t want to go. It was ten o’clock and her brain was exhausted from the marathon studying all afternoon and evening with her only breaks introducing herself to Harry and when she ordered them pizza.

Harry insisted on paying. Another weird notion from him. She never really ordered food for her security details, but she always did offer, and she always paid. Her mother taught her to have manners and be polite, even if she was mad—it would make her more amicable. However, she thought a lot of her previous agents assumed she was trying to poison them when she ordered them food. Harry didn’t talk much to her while they ate. He asked her what she was studying and if she felt confident about the exam.

She worked her ass off to be successful in her classes. She was one of the top students, she knew it. But everyone else saw it as the Secretary of State’s doing, not her own. But yes, she was confident about the exam.

But now it was 10:04 and she wanted to be included. She didn’t want to come off as “Daddy’s little princess” and the goody-two-shoes she was accustomed to being. Biting her lip, she pressed her ear to her door. She couldn’t hear Harry at all. Harry seemed cooler than her other details, she could probably just ask him to take her and hang back as far as humanly possible. He told her he was going to read the files on the people she surrounded herself with while she went to sleep.

He would be back first thing in the morning for a full day of watching her every movement. She quietly changed into an easy, comfy outfit. Jeans, t-shirt, her most comfortable broken-in Keds. She glanced at the mirror on the back of her closet and put on a couple dabs of concealer around her eyes and a few swipes of mascara. It was one round of drinks; she would be back before Harry left his post and she wouldn’t even have to worry about locking up her apartment. She shoved her ID and her credit card into the back of her phone case and then put it in her back pocket.

Carefully, she opened the window pausing around the part that always groaned in the humidity from the outside August air. She quietly pulled the screen in and laid it on her bed. With cat-like soft feet, she got out onto the platform of the fire escape. Closing the window behind her, once more minding the swelled portion. She made her way down the fire escape. The walk to the bar was less than half a mile.

As she turned the corner of the building to walk along the streetlamp-lit roads she was pushed suddenly and almost violently against the building. She nearly lost her footing, but the person kept her upright and was surprisingly gentle with her before she slammed into the bricks. Her lungs inhaled, ready to let out a scream, but a hand was covering her mouth at the same time causing her heart rate to skyrocket. “Seriously?” Harry’s accent cut through her terrified mind.

The terror seeped out of her mind as anger coursed through her. Maybe the close in age thing wasn’t going to be a good plan after all. If this was one of her other agents, they wouldn’t have known she was gone until she had finished her drink and was walking back home. She shoved his hand from her mouth, and she glared at him. Her body was shaking with her fight or flight response and a lot rage. “What?” She snapped and started marching down the road.

“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.

“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently. The kindness in his tone made her attitude waver again. But she was mad that he caught her. That never happened. She didn’t want to be sneakier. She thought she might actually like Harry. He even said he liked her to whoever he was on the phone with—that made her heart warm despite how she pretended not to hear. If Harry liked her, it would be much harder to maintain the isolated, bitchy attitude she gave all the other security agents.

“What’s there to worry about? Someone shoving me against a building and covering my mouth?” She grumbled.

“I didn’t want t’scare you; I was jus’ trying t’show you that someone could’ve snuck up,” he was keeping his distance from her, but she listened intently for the practically soundless footsteps. The only reason she could hear him was because it rained and made the little scratchy pebbles and dirt crunch under his feet ever so slightly.

“By scaring me,” she stated, still not looking at him.

He sighed. “M’sorry. I thought...” he trailed off. She didn’t make him finish his sentence. She thought too—he knew the stories of her, but he thought he would be different. They walked probably two tenths of a mile in silence. “M’sorry, love,” he repeated. “S’my first day. Didn’t want you t’get hurt.”

She sighed. He did sound remorseful. And she still kind of liked him. Mostly because as tragic as it sounded, he seemed to be more worried about her safety as a female walking dark streets and not a political official’s daughter. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. “I should have just asked,” she agreed a bit begrudgingly. “Just figured it was one drink and I’d be home before you left.”

He didn’t say anything. She stopped in her tracks. She could see the sign for the bar where her friends were down the long street before her. She turned to Harry. He looked relieved.

They gazed at each other a moment. Harry would be a worth adversary, she thought to herself. It was like he heard her thoughts because his next words almost tried to refute the idea. “I don’t like t’do paperwork,” he told her those pretty green eyes focused on her intently. He was serious. His jaw flexed tightly.

She smirked. “No promises.”

She spotted Harry at the end of the stairway, leaning against the wall as she exited the building where she had taken her exam. He had to be sweating in the suit slacks and button down—even if the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His left arm had several tattoos lining his arm while the right only had one or two. He wasn’t wearing a tie today nor a suit coat—she wanted to tell him she didn’t really give a shit what he wore, but he seemed the professional type. Being the middle of August, it was hot as could be. He didn’t seem to care, glancing every which way through a pair of black sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes and she suddenly realized she missed seeing the green even though she’d only gotten one good look at them.

Unfortunately, in all her ogling she missed the last two steps sending her straight into someone in front of her and she fell to the ground on the hot sidewalk, scraping her knee like a child. Fortunately, as a biochem major, she had to wear pants whenever setting foot in the lab so the yoga pants she wore—while hot for a summer day—probably saved her just a bit from a worse cut. It did cause a few tears in the fabric and her knee would surely bruise.

Harry started to rush over but the guy she bumped into helped her back to standing. “You okay there?” He asked.

Harry stood back a few feet as the guy helped. “Uh...yeah. Sorry, I missed the last step,” she said with a slight awkward laugh. She brushed the dirt from her hands that were also scraped as well as the length of her forearm since she was allowed to wear short sleeves (especially since it was exam day).

“Oh hey! You’re—” As soon as she realized he recognized her she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Sorry,” she hurried off, limping slightly as she realized she really smacked her knee and the way it scraped definitely made it sore to bend. She didn’t want to be recognized. She wanted to be herself and not have this political precursor follow her everywhere.

They were making their way back toward the SUV Harry had parked nearby when he had dropped her off this morning so she wouldn’t be late. Good luck he had called out when she closed the door behind her. “Are y’alright?” Harry’s accent was a few paces behind her. She felt embarrassed so she didn’t turn around. She nodded.

“Yeah. Just a scrape. Want to go home and take a nap in the AC.”

“Can’t argue with y’there,” he chuckled.

She smirked; glad he couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to wear a suit all the time,” she told him. “It’s a thousand degrees out. You’ll die of a heat stroke before you can protect me.”

He seemed to ignore her joke, but she was still a bit genuinely concerned he would overheat. “How was your exam?” He asked.

She turned finally and looked at him. He stopped short, still a few steps behind her. They probably looked odd beneath the shaded trees. Both dressed not for a summer day. Harry looked threatening, surprisingly. He didn’t when she saw him in her apartment or even when he walked her home at eleven last night. He looked like a regular guy even if he was overdressed in a half suit. She noted the gun in its holster on his hip and she wondered how good of a shot he was. Not because she thought he would be bad or because she thought he would ever need to shoot it in her presence but because she was genuinely curious about him. She still had her backpack on of course. Her knee bent slightly with a tear in her pants. Quite the pair.

His glasses were still covering his eyes, hiding probably the most assured way to understand what he was thinking. But despite all she thought about the DSS, Harry was nice. Even if it had only been the inside of 24 hours.

It was shame she was a bitch to her security detail.

“Uh...easy,” she said. “A lot of my friends complain about studying and it sucks, but obviously it was worth it,” she shrugged. “I only struggled with one long response question, and I knew that I would going into it,” she explained.

“S’good, m’happy for you,” a little smile twinged at his lips and he sounded so genuine. It surprised her. Like he was really taking an interest in her.

But then she remembered this was his job and he probably couldn’t give two shits about her or exam. She tilted her head and scanned the man before her as if that negative thought would reveal itself. Of course, it didn’t. The glasses were hiding his true emotions. She would have to figure out Harry later. It was too hot, even in the shade.

Silently she turned on her heel looking at the air-conditioned oasis of that SUV. Harry opened the door for her, something she was not used to before closing her neatly and safely inside. Once Harry opened his door she asked her question. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

“Coffee?”

“My treat,” she smirked.

“I thought you wanted a nap?”

“Yeah, but I have to work later and if you drink coffee before a nap, the coffee will kick in right when you wake up.”

He tilted his head at her before he pulled into the road. “Didn’t know y’have a job.”

“It’s remote,” she shrugged.

“Oh.”

“So coffee?”

“If that’s what you want, love.”

Harry drove in silence to the closest coffee shop he could find, and she got out of the car quickly before stopping at the driver’s window. “Can I get you anything?” She asked kindly.

“Uh...an iced tea would be nice,” he said curiously.

She was not the bitch everyone made her out to be. “Sure,” she said and rushed inside. Harry kept the window rolled down and could see her perfectly through the window. It took no more than ten minutes, and she was back at the car handing him iced tea through his open window before she got into the car. Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of her. But he was sure that he liked her. She was funny. In her own sort of way. He watched her sip her drink as she settled back into the car.

It would be fun.

Protecting her.

“I could send you a picture if you’d like to stare at me longer,” she blinked in excess at him. Fluttering her pretty eyelashes as her quick witted tone pierced his thoughts.

Right?

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection tag list: @youcouldstartacult

Please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :) If you would like for me to start a taglist for this series, please let me know as well!

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acewritesfics · 4 months

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Mama Bear | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nora + Bess

Request: No but @runnning-outof-time's interest kept me encouraged and motivated to write it.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Smoking. Threats being made. Inspector Campbell being a prick. Slight Grace bashing. Nora protecting her family and being a mama bear. Someone gets called a whore [hint: it's not Lizzie]. A six-year-old in the pub. Tommy and Nora's daughter's name in this is Elizabeth but she gets called Bess or Bessie. Also crayola crayons came out in 1903 but were invented in 1902, useless fact, I know...

Word Count: 1,971

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

"Give Tommy and Elizabeth my love," Nora’s mother, Marion, tells her as she stands up to leave. "Hopefully I'll see you all at church on Sunday."

"You know I can't make any promises, mother," She says also standing up. "I'll make sure to give Tommy and Bessie your love," She adds as her mum pulls her in for a hug.

"I really wish you would stop calling your daughter Bessie," Marion sighs as she pulls away from her daughter.

"Don't start, we had such a lovely lunch together," She frowns at her, already felling annoyed at her mothers insistence to see them on Sunday.. "And you know she prefers Bessie over Elizabeth."

"I'll see you Sunday," Marion says ignoring what she said as she leaves the restaurant.

"I doubt it," Nora mumbles to herself as she picks up her purse. Sunday is hers and Tommy’s day where they solely focus on there daughter. No outside family or work. It’s just the three of them and it’s been that way since Bess was born.

As Nora goes to leave she sees someone who makes her blood boil in the worst kind of way. Walking over to him, her mind goes back to the events of the day before. Ada and Polly had taken Bessie and Finn to the park for a few hours and had been spotted by Inspector Campbell who grabbed Bessie's arm and threatened to have her removed from her's and Tommy's custody.

When Tommy and Nora arrived home from the races, a frightened Bessie ran up to them crying about a man telling Auntie Polly and Auntie Ada that he was going to take her away from them. When Polly explained to them what happened, Nora and Tommy were about to go murder the Irish inspector. But reassuring their daughter that mummy and daddy would never let that happen was more important.

Polly told them that she made sure he knew he was crossing a line and that she has their backs if something were to happen to him as well as threatening to cut his hands off if he touched her again.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise, Inspector," she plasters a fake smile on her face as she sits across from him, sipping his tea.

He looks at her a little surprised. "Mrs Shelby, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"That's odd, since you've been following my family around since you've been here," she says trying to keep the venom from her voice. "I was just having lunch with my mother. I saw you on my way out and thought we could have a little chat."

"Don't you have to get back to that criminal husband of yours?" He says seeming anxious to get rid of her.

"Do you see a leash around my neck?" She asks him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Why are you with a man like him?" he asks her. "He'll only get you and your daughter hurt, maybe even killed. He's bad news and you and Bessie," he ignores the glare she sends him when he mentions her daughters nickname. "Deserve better than that."

"You see, Tommy is a lot of things, Inspector," she begins. "But he's my husband and my daughter's father, first and foremost, and if you think for a second that you can turn me against him by saying all that, you should think again," she continues, leaning in closer and pointing the fingers that are holding her cigarette at him. "And if you continue to use my daughter as leverage in whatever game you're playing with him, you won't only have Thomas Shelby to worry about."

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Shelby?" he asks, visibly gulping. The bite in her words and fire in her eyes told the inspector she's a woman of her word and that if he didn't fear Tommy, he should certainly fear her. She was not only a woman protecting her husband but a mother protecting her cub.

"Oh no, darling," she leans back in the chair, crossing her legs, with one arm across her stomach while the other brings her cigarette back to her lips. She takes one last drag on her cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray on the table. Uncrossing her legs, she stands up from her seat. "Think of it as a friendly promise."

"We're not friends," he frowns up at her.

"And we never will be with that attitude," she scoffs. "But if you would rather I threaten you," she starts, as she moves closer and leans over him. "You touch my daughter again and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

She stands up straight and goes to step away from him when she turned back around. "And if I were you, I'd send Grace back to Ireland or to where the hell she wants to go. Would hate for something to happen to her when the other's finally see the truth about her."

"You know about Grace?" He looks at her surprised and a little worried for the blonde 'barmaid'. "Are you worried she'll steal your husband?"

"I know more than you think," she smiles. "If you think your blonde whore can steal my husband, you're a bigger fool than I thought. In fact you two are perfect for each other. Idiots, the both of you," she adds and pats his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Inspector."

Leaving the restaurant, she makes her way to the Garrison.

Nora enters the Garrison, finding only Grace behind the bar. She's leaning in close to the wall of the snug as if she's trying to listen in on whoever is in there. Nora knew it would be Tommy, Arthur and John since they were the only ones who used it. Rolling her eyes, she makes her way over to the bar.

"You might as well have your ear against the wall," she says startling the barmaid spy. "I'll bet I can guess what you're listening in on."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace tries to deny having being caught eavesdropping.

"Gosh, I really hope Bess isn't giving her dad and uncles too much trouble. That girl can be a handful when she wants to be. She gets that from her Uncle John," Nora smiles, this was her way of reminding Grace of where she stood. Not only was Grace unknowingly revealing her intentions for working there, she'd taken a liking to Tommy that was a little more than him being her and Campbell's target. "She has her Uncle Arthur's temper though. But then again all the Shelby's have that temper and they can hold a grudge well too. You really wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to warn about something?"

"I would hate for something to happen to the pretty face of yours," she says not bothering to hide her intentions in her words.

"Look, I don't know-" she begins only to be cut off but the snug door opening and Tommy walking out.

"Hello, Love," he greets his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How was lunch with Marion?"

"It went well," she smiles. "She's invited us to church on Sunday. And just so you know, you missed."

"Did I?" he asks, a small smirk making it's way on to his lips. Taking her face in his hands, he plants his lips on hers, making sure to make a show of it. "Better?" he asks when he pulls away.

"Much better," Patting his chest, she moves past him into the snug. She's surprised to see Bessie's box of crayons and her sketchbook sitting neatly to the side. The little girl loves to draw and takes her drawing book and crayons every where she goes.

Looking at Bessie, she notices the little girl has playing cards in her hand and a stoic look on her face as she glances at her uncles sitting across from her.

"Please tell me you're not teaching our daughter to play cards," she says to Tommy as he stands next to her.

"Our dad started teaching us at her age," Arthur pipes up, his eyes furrowed in concentration as he looks between his cards and Bessie.

"Next we'll be off to the races, teaching her how to place a bet," John joins in.

"Remind me why I married into this family again?" she says turning towards Tommy who had moved to sit back down next to Bessie.

"Because you couldn't resist my charm," Tommy teases smiling up at her and pulling her onto his lap. "And aside from Bessie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"And he knocked you up." John adds, snickering behind his cards.

"What does knocked you up mean, mummy?" the soft spoken voice of her daughter asks.

Nora sends a deadly glare towards John. "I'll explain it when you're older." She turns back to Tommy. "We should head home. I need to talk to you."

"Can't we talk here?" he asks.

"I caught her trying to listen in again," she says leaning in to whisper in his ear just incase Grace was standing there with her ear pressed to the wall again.

"I think it's time we take Bess home," Tommy announces to the room as Nora stands from his lip, picking up Bessie's crayons and book.

"But Uncle Arthur owes me £1," Bessie whines as she drops her cards on the table.

"I'll give it to your dad later," Arthur assures her as she shuffles off her chair.

"She'll hold you too it," Nora warns her brother-in-law from thinking that he can get away from paying his debt to his youngest niece. She helps the six year old into her coat.

The small family of three say their goodbyes and leave the Garrison, making their way home.

"Is she alright?" Tommy asks as Nora's arms wrapped around him from behind. She lets out a sigh as she nuzzles her face into his back. Bessie wanted to do some drawing in her bedroom when they got home so Nora had got it all set up for her while Tommy made her some tea.

"She's perfect," She answers not just talking about their little girls mood.

Bessie had been born just before the war was declared and Tommy and Nora were married not long before her birth. She was two months old when Tommy and her Uncles were shipped off to France. Every time when Tommy came back on leave she'd grown so much. He'd missed all her milestones but read about it in his wife, his sister and his aunt's letters. Bessie was four when he came home after the war ended and she attached herself to him as if he'd never been gone. She's a daddy's girl and has Tommy wrapped tightly around her finger.

After he came home, most nights he would spend in her bedroom, sitting on the floor, his back to the wall watching her sleep to remind himself he was safe and at home, that he still has something to live for when it gets too much to bare. His little girl is his guiding light. She's the one who pulls him out of the french tunnels when he finds himself back in them. When he's with her and Nora, the noises stop and visions of the dirty walls fade away.

So yeah, she's perfect.

"Are you alright?" He asks turning around in her arms, forgoing the tea he was making.

"I'll be better once Campbell and Grace are gone," she says looking up into his eyes.

"Not much longer now, my love," he tells her, leaning his head forward to press a kiss to hers. "You have my word."

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @galactict3a

BOLD means your blog didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes it links after I post but I don't know if you get the notification or not. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

To join my tag list, fill out this form: TAG LIST SIGN-UP

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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fashion-runways · 2 years

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okay, i promised an explanation and i won’t go into too many details because honestly i’m still kind of a mess and there’s a lot we don’t know yet and everything but-- 2 weeks ago out of nowhere, in the middle of the night at 6am cops showed up at our home and raided our apartment and stuck around up until 2pm just making a mess of the whole place and taking photos and whatever, they broke the downstairs front door (which we now have to pay to replace off our own money), made an absolute mess of every room in the apartment, took every electronic device except our phones (and that’s only because i started crying about having all my healthcare info on an app and how i was going to lose all my appointments, and i think they felt bad for us?) and detained my father. they have barely given us information on what he’s accused of, they’re still nowhere near investigating those devices they took so they won’t give them back to us, and we have no freaking idea if or when my dad is coming back, because again, they’re not giving us a lot of information. on top of that my dad is pretty old, he's 65, he was supposed to have surgery this month because he can’t see very well from one eye (his workplace was paying for it) and he kinda can’t hear very well from one ear too, even though he refuses to accept it, and he’s been on anxiety medication for a while, so i’m kind of scared of what will happen to him without actual medical care or a nice place to sleep every night?? i don’t know. i truly don't.

now, this as you can imagine is traumatizing enough as it was, and it continues to be, but on top of that my dad was pretty much the only person with a stable job and a concistent income in this family, so now that he’s detained and we literally have no idea when he’ll come back, me and my mom got basically left in the dark. and even if he comes back, like, i don’t know, next week? i’m pretty sure he’ll get fired because he’s been missing work for 2 weeks now. i have some money that i saved from the stuff you guys send me, my mom has some money she makes, but it’s... obviously not enough, and this is a really stressful situation to be in, obviously, i wouldn't wish this on my worst enemies tbh.

so... i don’t know. i can’t promise i’ll post anything new because i’m limited to mobile for god knows how long, that’s why i’ve been reposting stuff. and if you want to help, if you enjoy the blog, if you have anything to spare, that would really be helpful. i know this sounds insane what happened, and trust me it still doesn’t feel real sometimes?? like i’m going to wake up and it'll be a bad dream? i don’t know. as always, since i’m from latin america, anything helps. literally even the smallest amount of money helps. sorry this post is so long and so trauma dump-y, but i said i’d explain and i need help more than ever, this blog is basically the only semi-stable thing i have income wise. if anyone wants me to tag this with any trigger warning specifically, let me know, i wouldn’t know what to tag this myself.

anyway, i have my kofi account that i link in every post i make here: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my redbubble account: https://www.redbubble.com/people/dinah-lance/shop if you’d want to buy something instead. and as always thanks for loving this blog and for always helping us, i know it doesn't seem like it matters sometimes, but it does to me 💖

#text posts

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juuuulez · 9 months

Note

Hello :) Carl x F!Greene!Reader, Reader and Carl had been pining for each other since they met at the farm but they haven't had a chance to talk about it TO CONFESS so basically more than friends but no label. Back in s5e15 Carl chases Enid when he spots her climbing over the wall. And in the tree scene where they almost kissed, Reader somehow spots them(was on a walk to relieve stress) I am such a sucker for ANGST. You have full reign of how the story will go! Ty v much :))

Little Pleasures.

info: S5Carl x Greene! Reader, technically no pronouns used but u can fill that in mentally, kids being stupid.

summary: You catch Carl and Enid sharing an intimate moment, and can no longer repress your feelings for the Grimes’ boy. Luckily, he intends on making it right.

this was soooo cute to write!!! plss send more request i loved doing this!

You’ve learnt to enjoy the little things in life.

Seeing your sister, Maggie, happy with Glenn filled you with joy. Carol would sometimes bring over cookies, and promised to teach you the recipe. Once Daryl found an old music box while on a supply run, and brought it back for you.

But your favourite little pleasure? Well, that was easily Carl Grimes.

Whenever you were sad, he’d notice, and let you read his comics. He was perceptive like that, and could sense your emotions from a mile away. Maybe he, too, felt this deep sense of sadness, an ache that never went away.

After the death of your father and sister, that ache became all consuming. Some days you couldn’t bare to get up, and yet those where the days Carl turned up, standing on your porch. Throwing stones at your window.

Once again, it was these little things that made life worthwhile. You liked to think that Carl enjoyed your company as much you did his.

Sure, back at the prison Beth had egged you to make a move on him, as it was no denying how the sheriff’s boy made your heart sore. Back then, it was a silly little crush, one you’d indulge in just to pass the time. But now it was impractical. Seeing everybody you loved perish numbed you, and growing attached to Carl would only result in further turmoil.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

So why did seeing Carl with Enid hurt so much?

Whenever you were particularly sad, a walk seemed to help. Except for now, crouched behind a bush watching Carl and Enid hiding in a tree, their faces inches away. It made you feel sick.

Why was he with her? Did she have something you didn’t? Was she prettier? Could understand his comics better?

Your mind ran rampage, the embarrassing feeling of hot tears spilling into your cheeks. This was pathetic. You’d sworn that Carl meant nothing to you, and yet you couldn’t handle seeing him with someone else.

In a hurry, you took off, scurrying back to Alexandria. No more walks. No more going outside. No more little pleasures.

That was until late at night, when the familiar tapping on your window returned.

Ping.

“Stop it!” You shout, moving to pry your window open just before Carl can throw another stone. It makes your insides feel warm and fuzzy, the sight of him standing there, hair messy under his hat. You’d missed him.

“Will you come down?” He asks in a plea, speaking in this whisper-shout in an attempt not to wake the whole neighbourhood. “I haven’t seen you all day. Thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

Your jaw clenches, wanting nothing more than to banish him from your sight. “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

It was harsh, childish venom dripping from your tone as you slam the window shut, the harsh action vibrating against the wall. Sniffling, wiping messily at your eyes, you sat back down on your bed.

Ping.

You groan into your pillow, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs against the bedding. Why won’t he give up?

At your lack of response, there’s silence. It sounds like Carl’s gone home. Good. Now you can avoid him all day, all night, and never have to see him that close to Enid again. She can have him.

Only a few minutes later there’s a knocking at your door. You tilt your head out of the pillow, looking across the room. However, before you can give permission, the door is opening, revealing Carl once more.

“I said I didn’t want to talk to you!” You scold him, and in a fit of aggression, throw your pillow over at the boy.

He catches it seamlessly, throwing it into the bed as he approaches you. “Why the hell not? I got a new edition of Hawkeye. Thought you’d want to read it.”

“Why don’t you read it with Enid?” You mumble, turning away from him to face the opposite wall. This all seems so childish and stupid, the exact thing you wanted to avoid by distancing yourself from Carl.

There’s a beat of silence.

The bed dips slightly, a warm presence filling the space next to you. It takes everything within your power not to look at him.

“Enid doesn’t like comics,” Carl tells you, his voice quiet and sincere, like he can sense how upset you are no matter how irrational. “I wanted to see you today. But you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

You roll your eyes, and with one motion, fall back onto your bed with a huff. “I thought I didn’t want to be near you. Incase… I started enjoying it too much.”

You’re met with silence again, like an indication to continue. At least, that’s how you take it.

“Something bad’s gonna happen, Carl. It always does. And I don’t want… to be too sad, when you get hurt. Or when I get hurt.”

There’s a gentle thud as Carl falls back onto the bed, laying next to you over the covers. You don’t look at him, but he’s looking at you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, “It’s okay to be scared… but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do things that make you happy.”

You don’t respond, too embarrassed to admit the feelings that have been eating you up inside. The words you can’t seem to push past your lips, no matter how hard you try.

Luckily, Carl does it for you.

“Do I make you happy?”

It’s an innocent question, yet makes your face flush red, ashamed that he’s been able to pick you apart so easily. If your reaction wasn’t obvious enough, you meekly nod in confirmation.

If you were facing Carl, you’d see the smile that spread across his face.

“You make me happy, too. More than you could understand.” He tells you, an admission that warms your heart.

Finally, you look over at him, and find that Carl is closer than you anticipated. He’s taken his hat off, resting further on the bed, brown hair messily splashed out on the sheets.

A smile of your own makes its way onto your face, feeling understood in a way that’s become so foreign. This couldn’t get any better.

Until it did.

“Can I… kiss you?” Carl asks, an innocent request that reignites that fire within you, the one you’ve been ignoring for so long.

When you speak, it comes out in a nervous whisper, “Please.”

For the first time in months, you’ve found something that truely makes you happy. A little pleasure above all.

The way Carl gently places his lips on yours, hands cupping your face like it were made from porcelain, that you may shatter under his fingers. He’s nervous, but that’s okay. You’re nervous, too.

You could definitely get used to this.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x you #enid rhee

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writefightandflightclub · 2 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Four (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Ooh I really hope you enjoy this one! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. I so love to hear your feedback and chat more about this story! ILY :-*

Word count: 5.3k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

The rest of the evening passes in much the same way as the rest. You rejoin the group out front, Benny injecting some much needed fresh energy into the pack. He regales you all with tales of his most recent fights, delivers excruciating detail about his latest training regimen, and proudly shows off pictures of his new puppy.

“Why am I looking at a picture of you, Miller,” Frankie jests as he holds up the screen to reveal an adorable golden retriever.

If anyone notices that Santiago seems quieter than he had earlier in the night, they don’t say it. If they realise that you are engaging in very purposeful, overblown interest in Benny’s chat, it doesn’t get called out. There are a few exchanges between the two of you and Santiago that simulate old patterns. Lend weight to the pretence that things could even return to normal between you and him, given a little more time.

Still, every time your eyes glance off of one another there is this intolerable heat, and you find you still can’t meet it head on. At times, your gaze is dropped hastily into the sand. At times, your eyes needle Frankie pointedly so that he might come to your aid, even if he does simply shrug and clasp the neck of his bottle a little more tightly.

You know Santiago. And in a sense, contradictory as it may be, the hardest thing is how easy it would be to fall into your old patterns. Eventually, you begin to wonder if this tension and this awkwardness -this disconnect – is simply manufactured, in a way. Your heart’s tactic to keep him at arm’s length. A defence mechanism, because you ran away from a whole continent and yet you still fear ending up right back where you started if you can’t extricate yourself from him.

At some stage, you tire of the beer-addled chat, and especially of Tom. Even more so of the effort of trying to make everything feel normal, whilst at the same time fearing what might happen if you could actually achieve that. What it would mean. You announce to the group that you’re going to take a long soak in the tub, and you head upstairs to the main bathroom, languishing in the sweet-scented bubbles, and attempting to wash the burdens of the day from your body, along with the gathered sweat and sand and smoke. Of course, you seem entirely unable to scrub this urge humming beneath your skin.

When you eventually emerge there is a hush over the house, a cocooning darkness in the hallways – and you realise that at least some of the group must have retired to bed already. You’re tired, sure; but you’re still a little buzzed and not sure that you could sleep yet. You certainly don’t like the thought of staring at the ceiling, thinking about who might be lying awake too on the other side of your wall.

“Hey. Cat. Everyone gone to bed?” you ask Frankie softly as you see him round the stairs to the landing in his socked feet, his footsteps purposefully softened.

“Yeah, chiquita.”

“Already? Such old men,” you snicker gently. “What the hell happened?”

Frankie’s subdued throaty chuckle cuts pleasantly through the dark. “It was a long drive,” he defends playfully; then, his tone shifts, an injection of caution evident. It puts you on edge. “Pope’s still out there though, if that helps.” Frankie must feel you bristle, as he raises his palms in the air in surrender. Or, more than likely, absolving himself of any responsibility. “Do with that what you want.”

“Mmm-kay,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, and, from the sidelong glance Frankie throws at you, you know he isn’t buying it for a second.

“You two okay? Something happen in the kitchen?”

A flare ignites under your skin. You remember a different kitchen entirely. Not the one downstairs. Instead, you recall the hot, close air of the Colombian night. The flash of cool metal against your flushed skin as Santiago pressed you back and-

“-It was fine,” you lie tersely, and before Frankie can wheedle anything further out of you, you quickly hook your arm around his neck for a distracting, albeit halfhearted, goodnight hug. “’Night, Cat. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” With a grunt, he offers a quick, friendly kiss to your cheek, his scruff tickling up against you.

“Yeah. G’night,” he returns, looking as tired as he probably feels. And, as you part ways in the hallway, Frankie watches with resigned interest at the fact you don’t similarly retreat to your room. That instead, you shuffle onward towards the mouth of the stairs. “Don’t let the Pope’s bite.”

And then, with Frankie’s nonsensical and yet somehow apt warning ringing in your ears you head downstairs, meandering through the quiet house until you reach the exterior.

You are arrested in the doorway at the thought of experiencing Santiago alone all over again, but at the same time, that is exactly the thought which propels your feet over the threshold and out into the balmy night air.

You find him there, stretched out on his back in front of the dying embers of the fire, knees folded and pointed up to the sky. An orange glow is cast over the contours of his chest where his button-down shirt now falls completely open, the wire of his headphones snaking down and around his torso. He looks peaceful like this at first. Relaxed and loose, his chest rising and falling soporifically with his breath. His eyes are closed and he has his headphones in his ears, his fingers gently drumming and tapping where they rest against the softness of his bare stomach. Your eyes follow his happy trail, until the thatch of hair disappears beneath his shorts, now tugged tight over his thick thighs.

You note the appealing cushioning around his middle forming rolls as he shifts marginally - to better prop his head up on a second cushion. He looks beautiful. Tranquil, at first glance.

That is, until you see him tug in a huge breath, his ribs flaring with it. Until you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow, sad exhale.

You know in that moment that you should without a doubt turn around. That you should go right to bed, even if that does result in staring at the ceiling for hours with the image of his gorgeous body seared into your mind. But, you can’t do that.

Instead, you already know exactly what you’re going to do. You’ve known since before you came downstairs.

Truth be told, you’ve known since before you came to the beach house at all. You’ve known since your new fella asked you to be exclusive and you said “no”. You know, because you don’t know what’s good for you.

“Santiago,” you say to announce yourself. “Mind if I join you?”

He pops a bud from his ear and opens his eyes. Somehow, he doesn’t even look surprised to see you standing there.

He blinks at you wordlessly for a moment. He could say no, of course, but you know that he won’t.

Because he doesn’t know what’s good for him either.

He doesn’t respond to you at all in words. Instead, he rises, shifting to the corner of his tartan blanket, arranging himself cross-legged with a groan. He pats the opposite side invitingly, gesturing for you to join him.

You hesitate. The setting, down on the sand on that measly square of wool, seems already far more intimate than the looming camp chairs had.

“Warmer down here,” Santiago encourages, as though reading your mind through how well he can read your body, evident tension snaking through your limbs. “Come and get comfy.”

Okay.

You hunker down, both legs folded to one side and your weight propped on the opposite arm. You take in the setting for a moment. The beach, shrouded in a blanket of dark. The sound of the waves shushing, and the gentle crackle of the fire.

It would be calming, if the silence between the two of you wasn’t so taut. Still, you know Santiago will shortly reach to fill the silence. He always does. You don’t even have to wait all that long.

“Good to see that Benny’s still… as Benny as ever.”

“Yeah. Good to see some things never change.” You look at his lips.

“His latest training regimen sounds pretty brutal, huh?“

“Uh huh.” Your eyes trail wantonly down his torso, and it’s not lost on you that he sucks his stomach in a little when your gaze drops to the soft rolls of him there. You’ve never seen a whiff of insecurity on the man before now. He’s confident as a rule - or so you thought. It’s appealing though, the softness of him. Sexy. You want to tell him that, but you don’t. Instead, you simply allow the soft smile to radiate over your face unfettered, your eyes warm and fond.

“What are you listening to?” you nod down to his phone, headphones still strung from it and one bud remaining in his ear. Wordlessly, he passes you the spare bud and you slot it in, allowing the droning sounds to wash over you. Voices talking, and smatterings of financial and investment jargon. You quickly get the gist of it, and just as quickly relinquish the bud back to him.

Your nose wrinkles. It’s not what you were expecting, honestly. “Financial podcasts?”

He tilts his head to the side. Looks suddenly as old and mature and serious as you’ve ever seen him. “Gotta think about the future sometime, right?” He says it lightly, but even so, you are somewhat hurt by it. Hurt that he’s never managed to envisage any kind of future with you.

“Right.” You nod, as neutrally as possible.

He looks at your mouth.

You note the brief fleet of pink tongue along the swell of his pillowy lower lip.

You both let the silence hang there for a moment, full of possibility, and again, you know he will fill it. After all, you made it clear, right? You told him: don’t. Even if you want precisely what you asked him to deny you. “Did you see that documentary about the octopus on-”

“-I can’t get off anymore without thinking about you, Santi.”

You interrupt him, and his jaw hangs slack for a moment, his eyes bugging out of his head as he fully registers your statement. Apparently, you don’t want to talk about Benny. Or podcasts. Or fucking octopi. You don’t want to fill the silence with meaningless chat.

With Santiago, it had always meant something. You don’t want to stop that now.

You let the words fall into his lap, and you aren’t even sure what reaction you were expecting. Therefore, you don’t even feel any particular type of way as you watch the multitude of emotions and stunted responses play out one by one across Santiago’s features. “Jesus, honey,” he eventually croaks.

Then, his second-hand embarrassment finally jars you too. In a delayed flush of self-pity, you bury your face in your hands. “Fuck. How pathetic is that?”

Santiago’s agape mouth finally closes then, a hard swallow bobbing down his corded neck. Your own self-deprecating laugh finally causes his face to split into a bemused and tentative grin. It is short-lived, however, his thick brows quickly drawing down. “You know. You’re giving me fucking whiplash over here, cariño.”

“Shit. I know. I’m sorry. I just…” You tug your knees up to your chest for whatever comfort it can offer. “Honestly? I don’t want to talk about Benny, or whatever else. I love the guy but I… I missed you. I missed you and I just want us back. I want us to be okay, you know?” Santiago’s face twists in a mirror of your own, as if he doesn’t even know how possible that is anymore. “And, I don’t know how else to do that anymore – to make us okay - without… without that. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.” As you keep talking, your voice seems to break into a thousand pieces, as if sand in your throat is grinding it down, eroding the body and timbre of it away. “I try. I try, Santi, and it… I never…”

Your name rises from his throat, and the sound is tired in his mouth. He knows what you’re asking him; and he doesn’t even seem surprised. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”

“I know.” He’s not even wrong. “I know it is, but I… I don’t care anymore.” Emotion weighs down your tone. Makes it heavy. “It’s like a wound in me - the way we left it - and I just need…” Your eyes flicker and flit everywhere as you reach for the word, dancing around the scene, around his face, like the licking, greedy flames.

You can’t find the word, the concept, the sentiment, but, as you search, Santiago’s voice filters through to you, certain and resigned. As though he understands perfectly what you crave after the wound that he left that night. “You need healing.”

Your head whips towards him and you nod slowly, with conviction, searching his face for any sign that he might give it to you. For any sign that he might be able to repair you. He had hurt you, yes. But his fire was so hot that you think he is the only thing capable of cauterising the wound he left in his wake. The only one who can ignite you enough to heal you, as selfish and misguided as your desire may be.

However, Santiago’s demeanour remains calm and cool even in the face of your desperation. You see only a vestige of desire dancing in his eyes now, as though all you had might truly be in the past. “You wanted out, remember?” he says thinly. With regret. He smiles even thinner than that. “No need to repeat your old mistakes, huh?”

“I wanted out of that life, man. You were never a mistake.”

“Heh. Don’t be so sure. If you know what’s good for you-“

Unconsciously, and with ill-timing, you shift on the mat in discomfort, rolling your spine to try and release some of the niggling, tight muscles – another old injury which continues to plague you long after the fact.

“Still got that damn tweak?” Santiago asks, seemingly grateful for the diversion.

You nod. “Mmm.”

“Want my fingers?”

You look into his eyes, mellow in the dancing light. How could you say no to that? “Please.”

“Come here then,” he encourages, shifting position to the edge of the porch step, his thighs spread wide apart and leaving space for you to settle on the sand before him. “Let me help you,” he insists, tipping up his chin, and his eyes softer and brighter again.

You hesitate, but you can’t find it in you to decline the invitation. Can’t possibly find the strength to say no to his hands on you. To some relief, even in this form. “Turn around. Back to me, hermosa.” His voice is soft, so soft. Rough and undone around the edges like this frayed edge of land you perch on.

You settle before him, and, just as he had promised, his fingers and his hands begin to inch over your body, on top of your clothes, seeking to unravel the knots. To bring you some relief. He used to do this for you all the time – always took care of you like this, and it’s bittersweet to recall a different, more innocent way his hands used to touch you. He would do this for you after training. After a mission. In the field. At the mouth of your tent when camped out in some desert or field or jungle. In the back of a Humvee on the way to the F.O.B.. At Benny’s fight nights when you’d had to sit in those shitty plastic chairs for too long. Whenever and wherever you needed it.

His hands always knew how to fix you, long before you learned all the ways they could take you apart like a weapon in his palm. “Santiago,” you keen, as the pad of his thumb works into all your sweet spots. You don’t know what his name is in your mouth. A plea; a promise; a prayer; a poem. Perhaps all of these at once.

“I know,” he soothes. “I know, cariño.”

You close your eyes against the sudden tears you find threatening at the corners of your eyes. Knowing his touch again is everything you wanted, and, despite yourself, you are eminently glad it is happening like this. That he is giving, instead of devouring you, for if he did the latter, you don’t know that there would be anything left for him to take.

His touch like this though, deft and tender, reveals that perhaps, there’s another way. That maybe, instead of burning you, Santiago could merely warm you. Maybe his flames only hurt because you had dared to get too close. Maybe you could simply learn to stay at arm’s length, where he had always attempted to keep you anyway.

Still, that’s all very well, but… his touch - as it skims down your body - is enough to subsume you. It is a tide swallowing hot shores. It is a relief. A balm. Healing.

“You’re so tight,” he complains gruffly, and you wonder if he is simply being careless, or whether his words were chosen ever so deliberately to remind you. To remind you of him praising you for that very same thing, under other circumstances.

Regardless, Santiago shifts then, shuffling his hips closer towards you. His thighs -either side of your torso - boxing you in a little more tightly. Then, he braces one hand carefully against your shoulder, the other digging and kneading into your knotted muscles at the spot he always knew how to help you with.

You moan for him, willingly, as he takes all your tension and melts it like butter.

“Santiago,” you keen, and there it is again. A promise; a prayer; a poem.

A plea.

You hear him swallow thickly. Hear him exhale a sound like sea trapped in a seashell, his face dipped closer towards the shell of your ear in this new position. His breath continues to quicken as he manipulates your body, pliable under his sure hands, his warmth practically coiled around you like the fire around its fuel.

“Do you want my fingers?” he repeats, voice now flecked with grit, even as he remains slow and languid, not whipped into any frenzy. “Tell me.”

A stone plummets through your belly, sinking heat through your core at the mere suggestion he might touch you there too.

“Mmmph,” you plead – a strangled affirmative wrung from your chest, and Santiago’s hand reaches around, calm and slow and tantalising. He winds his arms between your legs and his index finger trials along the seam of your shorts, up towards your clit like he’s following a carefully laid fuse line. Like he knows precisely how to detonate you, and all he needs is a spark. “You want my fingers here?” he purrs, and you moan his name, throwing your head back into the crook of his shoulder. “Want me to help you like this too?”

You submit an unintelligible string of sounds to the air, which you hope he recognises as an affirmative.

“Sssshhh,” he soothes, as his fingers deftly flick open the button of your shorts and you squirm in search of his friction. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you, cariño.”

You sigh out a broken, guttural noise now, rolling your mound against his palm as his girthy fingers travel eagerly below the waistband of your clothing. Barrelling towards your want without dwelling on the implications even for a moment. On what this might mean. On what this may fix or further fracture.

It is too much to think about that, and it is enough to know that you need some relief.

Specifically, the kind of relief you have not been able to give yourself. The kind of relief you have not been able to find from elsewhere. The kind only Santiago knows how to give you. The only kind Santiago knows how to give you.

“Fuck. You’re soaked,” he praises, all rusty-voice and practiced fingers, and with the ease that the thick pads of him glide through your folds you know it is true. “Holy shit, come here.”

You would oblige if you were not so loose-limbed already; and so, in the next moment, Santiago is dragging you up towards him, settling your ass in the space before him on the porch step, so you sit a little higher. He is shucking your shorts and panties down and hooking your thighs over his parted, sturdy legs to spread you wide open. To give him better access to you so he can give you what you need.

Your hands clamp down on his thighs like claws, your back flush against his chest and your head still languishing in the apex of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm in his shoulder as his arm reaches between your legs. With his other arm he simply gathers you up and holds you close to him, until the warmth of his skin seeps right through to yours.

“Fuck! Santi,” you keen, voice ragged with need already as his fingers tease and circle where you need him. “More. Please, I need more.”

He does not disappoint. He plunges a girthy finger into your heat, and the lack of resistance is telling, your cunt opened up and eager for him as the heel of his hand rocks a steady rhythm against your clit. He goes slower than you would like, but it turns out to be the exact pace you need -two fingers now- dragging molten heat through your core with each curl and pump and scissor he applies to your giving walls.

“Ohhhh. Fuck!”

“I know, baby. This is what you need, isn’t it? I know.”

He does. He does know. He knows every damn inch of you and how to make you sing.

“That’s it. I’ve got you. Don’t come, Princesa. Not yet.”

That’s easier said than done. Especially as his rough voice - all honey and grit - filters into the shell of your ear. As the fleck of his stubble rasps against your neck as he sucks an angry mark into your skin. Your core flutters in straight-out defiance of his orders then, and he feels you clamp down on him, tightening around his fingers. “Ah ah,” he scolds. “Hold on to it for me. Gonna get you there. Don’t worry. I got you.”

Christ, you slosh around him as he makes you molten, and you feel his thighs begin to shake beneath yours. You feel his insistent hardness pressing at your back. “Fuck, princesa. I missed this pussy. Holy shit.”

“Santi. I- I can’t hold on.”

His thumb massages circles into your swollen, needy clit.

“No, baby. Hold on for me. I know you can, huh? Don’t even think. Let me give you what you need.”

“Mmmphhh,” you moan out like a woman possessed as Santiago builds you up.

He chuckles darkly into your neck, and smothers his spare palm over your mouth. “Shhhh. Quiet, hermosa. No-one else can take care of you like this, huh? I got you now.”

The way he’s touching you, fingers speared inside your wet heat, is everything you’ve needed for so long. God, you’ve so needed him to help you like this. And now, he’s finally giving you relief. It’s welcome, and it’s good; but you still have enough about you, even in this state of becoming putty in his lap, to realise that he’s not giving you everything. You turn your head, tipping your lips wantonly up to him, but he won’t kiss you. His arousal presses insistently at your lower back but he isn’t making any move to get himself off. It seems obvious, even in this state of coming undone, that even as you lose yourself he won’t allow himself to get lost in you; not entirely.

He’s navigated some extreme terrain in his time, but perhaps his feelings for you really are a jungle far too dense for him to navigate.

Still, you certainly do not feel any lack, even if you get the sense he is holding back. It would be hard to feel any lack at all with his thick, warm fingers buried in you up to the knuckle, stroking and curling with precision against your swollen arousal, coaxing hoarse moans from your lips which he buries in the meat of his cupped palm. The pad of his thumb rubs haphazardly -almost roughly- in circles over your clit, puffy with need. Your thatch of hair is soaked, and your plumped folds are slick with your pearly, moonlit juices.

“Holy fuck,” you rasp as Santiago’s fingers draw a broad circle deep inside your walls, stretching you open and sending a delicious spiral of bliss through your core. He curls his fingers against your g spot, rocks his palm roughly against the mound of you, and God, it’s so good. You’re on the edge, but you still find you can’t quite let go.

You don’t need him to give you everything, but you do need him to give you just a little more of what you’ve been craving. Just a little more healing.

“Santiago,” you plead, tears of emotion and bliss and disbelief and sadness balling in your eyes. Relief at the fact you get to feel his touch again, and despair at how long you may next endure the lack of it.

However, as though he senses what your body is telling him, that you are getting far too in your head by now to let go, you realise Santiago knows exactly what you need to get out of it. He always does. Always knows how to help you. “Mmpph,” you moan as he wraps his hand more tightly around your mouth and nose, playing with your air supply - just enough to provide a gentle thrill. To offer this simulation of a loss of control just long enough that you feel a secondary surge of adrenalin and arousal building within you. You gasp as he releases his palm and you suck his fingers easily into your mouth, wanting to feel full of him wherever you can. He obliges by shoving them deeper, over your tongue.

“That’s it,” he praises, soothes, encourages, feeling it coming before you do, reading the signs in your body. Almost immediately, pleasure blooms out from your middle, completely engulfing you.

You screw your eyes shut tight and you can barely even focus on his fingers pulsing in and out of your wet, suckering heat, or on this string in the middle of you being drawn so tight it’s about to snap. Instead you focus on him. On the warmth and sturdy form of him at your back. On the way he knows just how to touch you – where, and when, and how. The way he soothes you and relieves you. The familiar scratch of his stubble against your cheek. The soft, sweat-tacky rolls of his bare stomach cushioning your back, skin-on-skin where your t-shirt has ridden up your back. His meaty thighs. The familiar press of that hard promise up against you. But most of all his warm, sandy voice, slipping into the shell of your ear like the sounds and shushing of the sea.

Hermosa. Cariño. Princesa.

His words melting out of you like liquid pearls and making you shine.

He praises you, and the sounds of him slip inside you just like his fingers, a smooth glide like the surge of the tide devouring an aching shore. His touch relieves the ache, the burn, the fire, the hurt, as you find your release. You gush over his hand, your mouth open with a hoarse, hollow moan, silently echoing the roar of the sea as your whole body becomes liquid on top of his.

He holds you, and he works you through it, tears squeezed from your eyes with each wave of bursting, engulfing pleasure which radiates through your core – not blistering like the heat of your fire, but gentle and soothing.

Your breath is ragged now. You have the feel of a tide between your legs.

You are sated, and yet you want more of him. You may feel healed in some ways, but your whole body still sings for him like a wound.

He stays inside of you. Feels you for a moment, with a shuddered, satisfied moan you feel vibrate against your back before he draws his fingers out, painfully slow. You shudder too, your core still fluttering for him, and you would reach for him if you weren’t still boneless. Would seek to satisfy him too.

“Fuck. I missed your fingers,” you purr.

“Uh huh,” Santiago says, a little too morosely for your liking, and he unslots himself far too quickly from around your form. Far too quickly he comes to standing, leaving you feeling cold and alone on the porch stairs, shorts shunted down past your knees, exposing you to the night air.

“Don’t you want… something for you?” you ask in confusion, in hope, eyeing the bulge tenting at his crotch and the way his hand is hung curled at his side, his fingers still shined from you. You enjoy all of that, but you certainly don’t enjoy the heaviness bedding down on his brow, and you reach to pull up your shorts as quickly as you can, the moment of relief fast-retreating, like the deceptive tide.

“No,” he says firmly. “That was just for you.”

You bristle at the implication in his words, your momentary bliss falling quickly away.

He did you a favour.

You were the one undone by your desire – your want. Not him. You were the needy one who couldn’t be without him. Couldn’t even get off without him. And damn. Here he is, slow and controlled and, for the better part, seemingly unaffected.

You know that’s not wholly true – that he does still want you, but your eyes still swim when you wonder if his desire is subdued compared to what it used to be. If it has lessened.

Don’t you cause this frenzy in him anymore? This quickening, like he does with you? Is the flame burning in your chest -or your loins- not catching, any longer? Like the dying embers of this fire, is it almost out?

Could there truly be an end to this?

Soldiers. Friends. Lovers.

What next?

You had, at least, assumed something would be next.

And so, as you regard him, stoic and impassive, you can barely even look at him. “You’re right, Pope. This was probably a bad fucking idea.”

Of course it was.

You should know better than to think you can take a piece of him without wanting to devour the whole. After all, you could never see him in fragments – only all at once.

Had that always been your mistake, thinking that he could ever give himself over to you completely? He’s far too afraid of getting lost, even if he does hold the map to your heart in the palm of his hand. Strange then, because the palm of his hand is also where he has become so accustomed to yielding a weapon. Maybe for him, love and pain were always destined to feel the same.

You push past him, and you feel a pit open up in your middle.

“Goodnight, buddy,” you say, your tone surprisingly sour so soon after that. “Thanks a bunch for the fingerfuck.”

You guess the mindfuck came along for free.

You don’t want to hurt him. Don’t want to be bitter and to deepen this gulf between you all over again. But, apparently, you just can’t help yourself.

You don’t know what’s good for you.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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tinydefector · 6 days

Note

Hello!!!

May I request a fem s/o who's currently in ovulation and mtmte cyclonus sensing this and just wants to breed s/o

MINE

Info: Guys, I don't write fem, so if I get request for fem they are going to be written gender neutral. Please make sure to read my rules beforehand. If you don't state for the reader to be cybertronian, I write them as human as default.

Cyclonus x human Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, sex, breeding kink, #Valveplug

__________________________

Cyclonus could smell it on their skin, the chance in their hormones, it had become something he was rather aware of over the time he had been with them. afterall humans emitted phenomenons that were rather potent, and it is driving him mad.

His sensors detected the change days ago but each day their scent had just gotten sweeter as the pheromones permeating his lover's flesh grew richer. He could no longer ignore it.

His optics linger on then across the room as they entertain themself with one of the hobbies they are rather fond of. He clenched his dentas in frustration, Cyclonus is a mech of great resilience and patience but this, this was going to send his coding up the wall.

Reason finally snapped when strong arms curled around their waist, hot ventilations gusting whispered pleas against the back of their neck. His engine roared to life as old world coding surged forth in a torrent, demanding satiation through their offered flesh alone.

Turning slowly this chuckle softly. “Hello Handsome, what can I do for you?” They hum within his embrace, Cyclonus lets out an almost snarl like vent, vying for control against swelling passions and desire to claim them right there. Lips met in a crushing, bruising kiss as his talons gripped hips tight. Soft gasp leave their lips against his, head lent back so they could continue kissing him.

Drawing back, Cyclonus uttered one low command. "Bed. Now."

Their eyes go wide over the suddenness of it but are quick to follow his instructions. "Clo what's wrong?" They ask slightly worried, they hadn't seen him, likely this, last time he looked ready to rip something apart was after another scuffle with Whirl.

Cyclonus loomed over the bed optics drinking in their form as they stood there watching him. His engines growled low in mounting need.

“Nothing is wrong," he rasped, talons tracing their form with impossible care. He had always been rather careful and gentle with them, afraid he could break them easily with just the wrong move, over time he learnt they enjoyed the pain too. Each pass tingled their flesh with charged pleasure-pain sure to leave marks that would last solar cycles.

" Your coding demands satisfaction" He pauses for a moment watching and waiting for their reaction. "And I intend to provide," Cyclonus purred, moving onto the berth as he pressed a servo onto their stomach pushing them down onto the softer part of the bed, climbing over their prone body. His olfactories drank in heady perfumes of their arousal, despite Cyclonus being a being of metal their scent clung to his frame.

Lowering his bulk, Cyclonus nipped a sharp line down their throat. "Your scent is driving me mad little love." His plating demanded his ‘mate’, and he intended to reap his reward. “I can smell your arousal seeping through your skin, it's Intoxicating” he mumbles against their throat.

His servos work swiftly discarding their pants, as the scent hits him more he kisses his way down their body. They let out a loud yelp when he discards their pants. "You can smell me!?!" They were almost shocked, didn't even know it was something Cybertronian’s could do. Their back arches as Cyclonus' Glossa eagerly laps at their sex.

Cyclonus rumbled approval against quivering flesh, talons parting their thighs running his glossa's full length in one heady lave. His lover keened helplessly at the intimate invasion,

"Of course I can smell you," he crooned, his lips seal around them gently sucking, and dragging more moans from their lips as one of their legs rested over his shoulder plating.

"Your rich scent screams for a mate, begging to be seeded." Another skilled flick wrung breathless cries from lungs near to bursting. "And I intend to fill you past overflowing, mark you thoroughly, since you seem so eager."

Revving his powerful engines provided vibration another layer of maddening pleasure His glossa ravaged their sex with single-minded focus, them. Only when reduced to a sobbing wreck did he grant brief respite. Pulling away to admire their stunning form.

talons tracing down to their tight entertain, teasingly pressing in and out stretching them and preparing them for himself. Their heads hit the berth as a hand comes up to cover their mouth, legs spread wider for Cyclonus. "Fuck, oh my God, Cyclonus" they yelp as he grips their hips holding them stead so he can driving his glossa into them along with his digits. Their other hand grip one of his horns to steady themself as they rock against him.

Cyclonus growled in approval against flushed flesh, engines revving like thunder at their moans. Never had submission so thoroughly captivated him - their writhing form clinging to his plating, he glimpsed all that he and his race had lost since Cybertron's fall, and how he relished having them under his form.

His glossa delved deeper, curling talismanic strokes along pulsing inner walls. Their ragged moans stirred coding that had never stirred within him before, the hellbent need to breed them.

They choke out on needy cries as their orgasm struck in shattering waves, rolling their hips to meet his mouth. Once satisfied he drew back,loomed over their limp form glistening with aftermath, optics afire as he studied the heavy breaths their heave in. His spike pressurised, merciless heat radiates from his body against delicate thigh.

"You are mine ," Cyclonus rasped, nipping sharp approval upon kiss-bruised lips.

They lay there, tears of pleasure slowly running down their cheek, legs twitching as Cyclonus releases his Interface panel letting his spike pressurised, teasingly pressing it against their much smaller form.

He rumbled deep in approval at their limp, ravished state "So willing and eager," he praised, nipping fierce approval upon kiss-swollen lips. His spikehead teased their lubricant slicken entrance with torturous circular rolls.

"Only you could stir my coding so, teasing me like this" Cyclonus rasped, increasing pressure just shy of breaching weeping limits. Gripping their hips in an unyielding vise, Cyclonus peered down at them. “you would rather stunning with my sparkling, little love” he presses in slowly, sheathing his length to hilt in a few deep thrusts.

They moan out loudly as Cyclonus sinks into them, clinging onto him, fingers digging into ridges of his armour for stability. "Fuck, fuck!" They gasp out, eyes shut in pleasure. "Sy," they whine.

Cyclonus growled into their shoulder, Talons gripped their flesh in punishing vice, determined to mark them until they bore his branding. His powerful frame began pistoning deep, slow thrusts. "Mine," he snarled against kiss-bruised lips, increasing the tempo of grinding pumps as transfluid steadily flowed into their smaller body.

Their willing flesh was his to claim without restraint, his to breed. And he intended on that, it mattered not to him that humans and cybertronian’s DNA and Cybertronian nanite, coding and protoplasm won't mingle. He was hellbent on breeding his human, and they were eager for him. He craved to see them round with a sparkling, to feel the pulse of their spark, to feel their field and they grow in his human. Never before had he craved to spark someone as he did his lover.

Sinful moans fall from their lips as transfluid drips from them as Cyclonus continues thrusting into them. They clench around him each time he thrust deeper, driving the bright pink fluid further into their willing form. "Cy, Cy! Fuck, fuck please so good so good!" They call out into his plating.

"Mine, mate, my little love" he purrs out, the loud rumble against their body makes them clench even harder. His grip is unrelenting upon their waist ploughing into them steadily against the berth. His spike flared within weeping walls, pulsing transfluid poured possession upon deepest recesses of their body.

"You were made solely for this," Cyclonus growled, increasing brutal tempo sure to grind fragile flesh to rapture's shining edge. When they are struck in shattering waves of their next orgasm, he drinks in their keening cries, intent on searing his brand upon their body.

They shuddered through aftershocks' radiance, his spike continued pulsing torrents meant to swell their much smaller form beyond capacity. his very coding, yearning for a small hope that they may at some point gift him a new spark. Whines spill from their lips as they go limp on the berth. Their abdomen bulged with his spike and fluid, they look stunning. Bright pink transfluid leaks onto the bed. They look thoroughly fucked. They clench around him desperately as he grinds into them trying to rut his fluid deeper. Soft little keens come from them as they cling to Cyclonus.

"My little light, my little love," Cyclonus rumbled, field swelled, he cradles their quivering frame. looming over their sticky, limp form painted inside and out with evidence of him.

They lay there intertwined with his much larger form, Panting. "So are we going to talk about it?" They ask softly. fingers dancing along his plating. Cyclonus rumbled low in approval at how they looked, massaging tender flesh. "There is nothing to discuss," he replied gruffly, though palming their swelling abdomen with unexpected care. His coding pleading that the seeds taking hold within his little lover.

"You are mine to claim, your body called out for me and I provided." His engine rumbled deeply. "Cy baby I love you dearly but, you can literally smell me!, omg have you been able to smell me when I get aroused?" They are rather embarrassed over the new information. Cyclonus huffed an impatient ventilation, grip tightening faintly on their pliant form pressing deeper into them making sure they didn't part.

"Of course I can discern your body's tells," he grated, thumbing their swollen belly with newfound gentleness. "As all sensors can detect subtle changes auguring fertility in potential carriers/sires." He presses a gentle kiss to their forehead, pulling away and exposing clenched denta in feral smirk. "Your aroused state demanded satisfaction I could no longer deny." Taloned digits trailed up their frame, Crimson optics seared into wavering gaze. "Does this truly trouble you?" Cyclonus nuzzled closer kissing quivering lips with uncommon affection.

" can everyone else smell me?" They ask in a whisper softly before the look of horror crosses their face. "Oh God, can they all smell us right now?!" They nearly squeal as he presses his hips more flush against theirs, they lean into his touch head rested against his chassis.

Cyclonus chuckled deeply at their fluster, massaging skin writhe against his ample frame with slow assurance. "Lower your voice, my little light," he rumbled, optical ridges creasing in a rare approximation of humour. Crimson optics shimmered with banked passions barely leashed once more.

"While our scents may linger, the others are very much aware you are my conjunx '' Cyclonus assured, engines purred as he nuzzled feverish skin with surprising care,

"And should you demand further... satisfaction," he rumbled, gripping their willing form flush to pulsing arrays. "Only this room's walls will bare witness” he teases lightly.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers idw #transformers lost light #valveplug #transformers cyclonus #cyclonus #Cyclonus x reader #Cyclonus idw #mtmte cyclonus #idw transformers #tf idw #mtmte transformers #tf mtmte

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

WIBTA if I confronted my boyfriend about not feeling praised enough? Over dumb D&D shit?

Background - I (20s F) live with my boyfriend (30s M) and things are usually great. He's always been supportive, emotionally intelligent and caring and we've had no major problems. We met via D&D several years ago so it's pretty important to both of us, and I'm a DM. Before we met, he was involved in a years-long campaign with some friends and is generally more experienced in D&D than me (I've been DMing around 5 years, he's probably closer to 10).

The current campaign that I'm running is something I'm really proud of. It's a mid-length campaign and I made the story myself (I typically plan mine to be 6-8ish months to avoid things fizzling out) and I've tried really hard to step up my writing and story planning for this one.

I've put in a LOT of extra time and effort and have been holding myself to a much higher standard than I usually do. As a DM I get self-conscious over how much time people are spending with me each week, and I want to make sure it's REALLY worthwhile. And because my boyfriend is more experienced in D&D than me, I've been looking to him for feedback and/or praise, as it would mean a lot to me coming from him.

And I've been getting close to nothing. At the end of each session he immediately falls asleep and doesn't talk about it at all. It makes me feel like I'm keeping him up/boring him. So I started asking him things like "hey what did you think about how I handled X" and he'll give a brief response like "yeah it was great" without explaining anything.

He didn't even give much thought into the character he's playing either - for his old campaign he created a HUGE story for his character, background, goals, etc. I know for a fact he's an incredible creative writer and could have come up with something wonderful for this. But he didn't put down anything other than basic character sheet stuff. When I asked him about it, he says he only goes deep into character when it's "long campaigns like my old one" and "too bad a long campaign like that will never happen again. That's D&D at it's best but now we're all adults, and we're too busy to ever do that, half my friends have kids, it'll never happen again and it's so sad" etc etc.

It made me feel like shit - like anything I try to do is a waste of time and pointless compared to this legendary "old campaign". Like it's barely worth staying awake for, like it's some kind of chore he has to sit through every week just because I'm his girlfriend and he's just humoring me.

The other players have been EXTREMELY enthusiastic and supportive - they send me art they make based on the campaign after every session and have contacted me privately to compliment me on certain aspects of the campaign. I want to make it clear that this is NOT something I EXPECT, but moreso I just really really love and appreciate that they do this for me, especially while my boyfriend is kind of leaving a void where I'd want this kind of praise.

Full transparency, one of my worst fears is forcing people to play along with something that I am passionate about, but bores them to tears. I never want to make a big deal over something that means a lot to ME but doesn't mean that much to someone else. So maybe I should just let this go because, at the end of the day, it's just a game? And taking it so seriously makes me an asshole and I should touch grass? I feel like potentially starting a fight over stupid nerd stuff would be pointless on my end. But at the same time, the more we play the more I feel deflated and I really hate feeling that way. I'm not sure what to do tbh.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months

Text

Trine [2]

Anselm Vogelweide X Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Part One • Trine Masterlist • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • request info

Summary: Blue is invited to a dinner party at Anselm's mansion.

Part 1/Series Masterlist

A/N: Oh no, not me writing another chapter. (Also Trine anon, I'm working on your ask!) This is pretty much all just smut.

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (m & f receiving), hand job, fingering, edging, p in v sex, double penetration, Blue being a sub, getting a bit emotional after sex, typos I'm sure, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 6366

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Nerves twisted in Blue's stomach, jumped and raced around. He couldn't recall the last time his heart had beat so hard it made him light headed when it wasn't a life or death situation.

And this was just a god damned dinner party.

He readjusted his tie for what must have been the twentieth time since he'd stepped out of the car.

It was just a dinner party. Casual. There was nothing to be anxious about.

Sure this would be the first time he'd seen you and Anselm since… since the meeting.

Sure he had fought with himself during the last two weeks, going back and forth over whether he should contact either of you directly. (Anselm's subordinates had been in touch regularly about the club expansion.)

He flip flopped quickly, one moment being certain that it was just a one time thing and then the next wanting to throw himself down on his hands and knees and beg both of you for the smallest caress.

Blue had managed to fight off the later urge. Just.

And then he'd received a dinner party invitation and his heart had skipped a beat.

It was probably nothing, meant nothing to you or Anselm. Blue was more than ready to politely smile and make small chat with the other guests. If he could just get a minute of yours and Anselm's time, a moment of your attention. A second.

He shook his head and swallowed, trying to push down those stupid thoughts. God, he was a businessman for christ's sake, not a love sick puppy.

Blue straightened his tie again and took a deep breath before he knocked on the front door.

Anselm's house, well mansion was a more correct word, Blue had even had to pass through a security check before he drove into the grounds, wasn't a particularly far drive. But Anselm had offered to send a car for Blue.

He had declined, preferring to drive himself. It gave him something to focus on besides the nerves that were threatening to squirm out of his stomach and start chewing on his internal organs.

The butler opened the door, greeting Blue by name ‘Mr Jones’, and showed him to the parlour. Blue tried not to stare at the grand open plan spaces, tried to pretend like he was used to this.

It was easier said than done.

The butler stopped at the parlour room door and opened it for Blue, closing it behind him.

The room was grand, like the rest of the mansion, but here seemed homely, more lived it. It was empty of other guests, save for you.

You smiled warmly the second you laid eyes on him, walking over quickly to greet him.

The dark blue dress you were wearing made his breath catch in his throat. Any rational thoughts and plans of being composed completely flying out of the window.

“Blue!” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek.

It took him a moment too long to react, and he stumbled over a greeting as he hugged you back. Your perfume overwhelmed him, seeping into his lungs and nearly lifting him off his feet.

You moved back, your hands still on his shoulders, just far enough to look into his eyes. Still standing close, closer than you would if you were greeting an acquaintance, or an old friend. This, this was similar to a lovers embrace-

He blinked heavily, trying to force those silly thoughts out of his mind.

“Did you drive here okay?” You’re still smiling at him brightly, blindingly.

“I, erm, yes. The drive was fine, thank you.” He muttered.

You absentmindedly rub his cheek with your thumb, removing the lipstick you’d left when you’d kissed him.

His eyes flutter closed, revelling in it for a second before he snapped back to attention. Trying to compose himself.

“Aww,” you whisper, moving a step closer so that your chest is flush with his. “Are you nervous, sweetheart?”

A little gasp escaped his lips and heat built in his cheeks.

“I can feel your heart pounding.” You run your fingers down his cheek and to his neck, just tracing his jugular vein. “You’re not scared of little old me, are you?”

He shook his head, his eyes hooded, unable to look away.

“Good.” You barely speak the word, leaning closer to him and pressing a deep kiss against his lips.

He whines softly as you open his mouth with your own, his hands gripping your waist and keeping you against him. As if you would ever want to move away.

You swallow down his moans happily, chuckling when he gasps in surprise as you gently push him down against the settee.

You can’t help but smile at the way he looks up at you, blinking in confusion. “You’re so cute.” You trace his bottom lip with your thumb before you climb onto his lap, your knees either side of his thighs.

Heat rises to Blue’s face, his breathing falters for a moment. And you see that glaze start to creep across his eyes, the same one from Anselm’s office.

“Do you like that?” You kiss his cheek again, not bothering to wipe away the lipstick stains all over his skin and mouth.

Blue looks up at you, a little mesmerised and you giggle again.

“Do you like that? Being called cute?”

He blushes and nods once, shyly.

“Good,” you lean closer to him again, just trailing your lips over his. “Because you are.”

His fingers tighten on your waist as he arches up, trying to kiss you deeply again. But you move back, always just out of his reach.

Blue lets out a quiet whine, pouting ever so slightly.

You grin. “What’s that face for?”

“Please?” He leans up again, pushing his hands against the small of your back.

“Please what?”

“Please kiss me again.”

You bite your lip, your smile widening as you bend down and kiss him softly.

He moans against you, letting out a mumbled “thank you,” that sends heat straight to your core.

You run your hands through his short hair, rolling your hips against his, drinking down the little sounds of excitement he makes as you brush your centre along his hardening cock.

“I see you’ve started the party without me.” Anselm’s voice is full of amusement as he walks into the room.

You look up at your husband and smile as Blue lets out a stuttered breath. He gazes at the older man, still holding tightly onto your waist.

“Having fun?” Anselm puts his hand on your shoulder and leans down to kiss you intensely.

“Very much.” You mutter against his lips and he chuckles.

Blue squirms a little underneath you, nerves beginning to fester along his skin, but Anselm turns to him and tilts downwards.

He runs his fingers softly along Blues cheek before sliding them around the back of his neck and pulling him into a fierce kiss. He slips his tongue into his mouth. Growling when Blue moans against him.

When he pulls back Blue looks bewitched, almost hypnotised. You smile and lean forward, scraping your teeth along his pulse point before kissing his neck.

Blue gasps and shivers, his fingers digging into you, “ah, please.”

The sound of his voice is delicious, so hedy and lost in sensations already.

“What about you Blue?” Anselm asks quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Having fun?”

Blue nods his head rapidly, his mouth dry. It’s only now that he notices Anselm’s suit, dark navy that matched your dress. His tie and pocket square were lighter though, a soft baby blue.

“Good.” Anselm presses his lips back to Blue’s, happily drinking down his moans while you sucked on his neck.

Blue wiggled under your combined actions, trying to hold you both close while not completely succumbing to the pleasure sparking along his veins.

As if in complete sync, both you and Anselm trail your hands along his clothed thighs, dragging your fingers upwards without breaking your kisses.

Blue whimpers against Anselm’s mouth, his fingers clutching at your back, as both you and your husband trace either side of his cock through his trousers.

His length twitches, already so hard and desperate to be freed from the confines of his clothing.

“Fuck.” Blue mutteres between kisses, his hips jerking upwards despite himself. He swallows, trying to regain some semblance of control as you both continue to tease him.

You bite his neck hard and he shivers, goosebumps breaking out on his skin under your tongue. Instinctively, he arches up against you, pressing himself as close as he can physically get and pushing at your lower back until you grind your pussy against his thigh.

A low moan rumbles in his chest as the heat from your core touches his leg. His left hand on your back urges you to move against him. While with his right he tries to pull Anselm down onto his other thigh.

Anselm chuckles, moving his mouth away from Blue. “Eager little thing aren’t you?”

Blue swallows, his throat bobbing under your kisses. He opens his mouth to speak but can only moan when you lick up his neck and bite softly at his ear.

“Don’t tease him Anselm,” you chide your husband, but there’s no aggression in your tone. “He’s just asking for what he wants.”

Your words make Blue’s insides turn to jelly, his dick throbbing almost painfully. He gazes up at you as you firmly take hold of his chin and pull him into a soft, long kiss.

“Well, we were going to have dinner first.” Anselm strokes his beard lightly, speaking directly to Blue once you have broken the kiss. “But, it looks like we’re going to have to take care of you before that, hmm?”

Blue’s skin burns with heat, he swallows, trying to focus and force his mind back into some semblance of a respectable guest. “I,” he groans, his eyes rolling back and burying his face into your neck as you palm him through his trousers. “Please.”

Anselm laughs kindly. “Don’t tease him sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek.

“I’m allowed to tease him.” You blink innocently at your husband, still stroking Blue’s cock.

“Oh,” he shifts closer so he can kiss your neck, whispering close to your ear. “Are you?”

“Yes.” You breathe, leaning into his touch as his lips ghost over your skin.

“I see.” The words barely leave his mouth as he bites softly, sucking a love bite just below your ear before titling your head with his warm hand so he can kiss you roughly.

There’s a dangerous desire burning just below Anselm’s skin. An inferno that has liquified his bones and nearly driven him to madness. You recognise the need within him instantly, despite his well cultivated calm exterior. Your husband is just as desperate as the man underneath you.

“Bed.” Anselm finally whispers when the kiss ends and you nod.

Blue barely manages to register what both of you are saying as he tries to grind up against your palm. But the words slowly filter in.

“What, what about the other guest?” He mutters, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fights the urge to just give in and rut against your light touch.

“Oh baby.” You smile and squeeze his dick gently.

Blue moans beautifully, desperate as he silently begs you for more.

Anselm grins. “You’re the only guest we invited.”

It’s a little easier to cajole Blue upstairs than you thought. His eagerness is both a help and a hindrance, as he can’t stop himself from kissing either of you. From leaning into your caresses and holding you close.

And you can’t resist him, indulging in every touch whenever he whimpers with need.

“He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, my love.” Anselm breathes into your neck as all three of you are halfway up the stairs.

“As if you aren’t the same.” You smile and tease, nodding to your husband’s unbuckled belt and where Blue’s hand disappears under his trousers.

Anselm nips at the love bite he left earlier. “Unfair.”

You grin.

Blue hardly takes any notice of the room you both pull in into, too preoccupied to even think. His mind humming, running blissfully quiet on just the need to feel you both against him.

Anselm pulls off Blue’s suit jacket from behind, kissing his jaw and the left side of his neck, while you loosen Blue’s tie and unbutton his shirt. You trail your lips over his clavicle, sucking hard at the skin just below his collar bone.

Blue moans freely, completely lost to both of you as he tries to move to help you help him out of his clothes.

Little murmurs of “please, please, please,” leaving his mouth with every breath.

Anselm undoes Blue’s belt while you unzip his fly. Both of you again working in that spooky tandem as if this was some well coordinated plan.

Neither of you touch his cock, even after he’s been stripped bare, and Blue can’t help the sob that rises out of him.

“Please, please,” he moans, so wretched as you both kiss and caress his skin. Gliding your hands over his stomach and ass, pinching his nipples and making his legs shake.

His length bobs with every shuddered breath, the tip needy and red, dripping with precum.

He lets you both lead him to the large bed, laying him in the middle and pushing his back down against the soft sheets.

Blue leans up on his elbows the second you both step away from him. It’s too much, far too much. The arousal is boiling in his blood, almost burning him alive. He needs you both so, so badly.

The desperation is eating him alive. He’d happily get on all fours and rut against the bed post if it would please you, if you would pull his hair and call him a good boy while he came on the floor.

Whatever you wanted, whatever either of you wanted, he would do in less than a heartbeat.

Anselm unzipped your dress and held your hand as you stepped out of it, letting the material fall to the floor. He kissed your shoulder before he turned around and you slid his jacket off his arms.

Blue groaned, his dick throbbing at the sight of you both, so much blood rushing downwards that it made him lightheaded.

Anselm chuckled kindly, slowly taking off his cufflinks as you undid his tie. “I think he needs you darling, or he’ll pass out.”

You flick your husband playfully in the arm and giggle before turning to Blue and smiling kindly.

Blue gulps. “I do, I need- please…” Oh god he just wanted you to call him a good boy again, he wanted to make you so happy.

You climb on the bed and crawl up to him, revelling in the contented sigh that leaves his lips as you get close. He wraps his arms around you, letting you push him back down against the mattress as he stares up at you with hazy eyes.

Anselm watched, enjoying the show as he continued to undress slowly.

You kiss Blue deeply, pressing your chest flush to his and pulling lightly on his short hair.

He groans approvingly, opening his mouth for you instinctively and letting you inside.

You scrape the nails of your left hand down his chest, lightly pinching his nipple again. He rewards you with a jolt and moan as you roll it between your fingers, before you keep going, moving further downwards.

Excitement jumps in his stomach, his muscles twitching under every touch.

You drag your fingers down, lower and lower, slowing down with every second as you reach the tip of his cock.

Blue moans into your mouth, holding you tighter in anticipation.

But you slide your finger underneath, pressing into his stomach as you move lower and meet the thatch of dark curls between his legs.

A whine escapes Blue, tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes.

But you keep going, moving to take hold of the thick base of his cock and he sobs in relief.

“Oh,” the rest of his sentence is lost as you trail your fingers higher, running up the length of him. His eyes screwed shut, his face buried in your chest as he sucks at your beast through the lacey material of your bra.

“Good boy,” you whisper.

“Oh god, please, please, please, thank you, I-”

You pump him lazily, but firmly, smearing precome over his head with your palm before dragging your hand back down.

A smile pulls at your lips and you kiss his temple. “Good?”

“Sogood, sogood,” he slurs against your skin, rocking his hips in time with your hand.

You tug his head back, pulling at his hair so you can kiss him deeply again. Sliding your tongue into his mouth and demanding his submission.

He yields with a moan, so content in that moment to obey your every whim.

The bed shifts as Anselm joins you both, now also completely naked, moving to lay on the other side of Blue.

You look up to kiss your husband passionately, Blue gasping and bucking under you both as Anselm slides his hand down to join yours, both of you squeezing and pumping his cock in long, lazy strokes.

Every noise Blue makes sends heat straight to your core. Your wetness soaking into your underwear.

You lean down, kissing Blue again, needing to drink down his every sound. Anselm follows, kissing Blue’s cheek and then nudging against you.

It’s messy, and desperate as you both kiss him, taking turns and smearing salvia along his skin as he whimpers beneath you. He sucks on your tongues greedily, so caught up in the heady pleasure of it that he almost doesn’t notice as Anselm moves downwards, his beard brushing against his skin.

Anselm licks a thick stripe up Blue’s cock and the cry of bliss that escapes him nearly makes you cum on the spot.

Eagerly, you move down, mirroring the path your husband took.

Anselm impatiently takes the head of Blue’s dick into his mouth, swallowing him deeply in one movement before bobbing up and down like he has no gag reflex at all. While you lick Blue’s balls, scraping your teeth along his skin and messily mouthing at them both.

Blue cries out, bucking up so eagerly that his back arches off the mattress. With a small laugh, Anselm places a firm, warm hand on his lower stomach and forces him back down.

“Oh shit, oh god, oh fuck, pleasepleasepleaseplease!”

Anselm drags his lips to the very tip, sucking deeply at the head and flicking his tongue over the slit as you lick up Blue’s length.

Your husband grabs you gently around the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his with the tip of Blue’s cock between you. You both lick, sliding your lips and tongues all over as if you were sharing an ice cream.

Blue gasps, his thighs shaking as he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you both moaning and sucking his dick.

He’s so close, the pleasure running along his spine and threatening to pull him under at any moment. Anselm’s hand splayed out on his stomach, pushing against the heat, making it build dizzyingly fast.

Blue gasps, his voice growing in pitch. “Fuck, god, please, I’mgonna-”

Anselm pulls away from him quickly, taking hold of your chin and moving your mouth away too.

Blue sobs, trying to buck against Anselm’s hand so he can chase your mouths. “Noo, please!” Tears and sweat cover his cheeks as he desperately attempts to gain any kind of friction.

You pout at your husband as he holds your chin and watches Blue writhe fruitlessly.

Anselm grins at you leaning forward quickly and biting your bottom lip before kissing you sweetly, savouring your yelp of surprise.

“Not yet,” he mutters to Blue, his voice firm, but he pulls back.

Blue looks up at him, tears in his eyes.

“I think you need to return a previous favour.” Anselm smirks wickedly as Blue frowns in confusion. “Look at her.” Anselm pinches your chin, turning you carefully towards Blue. “I think it’s time you made her cum.”

Heat rises in your chest, embarrassment touching the edge of your mind despite what you’ve just been doing. But Blue’s wanton groan chases away any lingering self consciousness.

He nods desperately, reaching his hands out for you.

Anselm’s grin widens and he shuffles to the side on his knees, letting go of your chin and patting your ass to encourage you into Blue’s arms.

You give your husband a playful glare before you lean forward into Blue’s embrace. He kisses you hungrily, as if he hasn’t seen you in weeks, his hands going behind your back and undoing your bra.

Your husband takes this opportunity to pull your panties down to your thighs and smacks your ass again, harder this time, when you yelp in surprise. With a tap of his fingers he urges you to raise your left leg, and then your right as he pulls your underwear off and flings them to the floor.

Blue yanks your bra off and kisses your chest, licking each breast eagerly and softly biting at your skin. He sucks your left nipple, hard, and gazes up at you when you cry out in pleasure. His dick twitching at the sight.

He manages to pull his mouth away from you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “sit on my face please.”

You moan softly, biting your lip and nod. Careful not to knee anyone in the face or side as you move upwards and position yourself above him.

Blue gazes up at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so happy in your entire life as he does between your thighs.

He leans up and lets out a long groan as he rubs the tip of his nose through your folds, “you’re so wet.”

You bite back a whine and grab hold of the headboard to support yourself as he cranes his head up and licks a flat, board line across your centre to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” Blue whispers, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs and pulling you down onto him.

He moans happily as he licks you, seemingly not content unless you're completely suffocating him and pins you against his mouth.

God it feels good.

You cry out, unable to stop yourself as he sucks your clit, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves before diving back into your folds.

His tight hold forces you even closer to him as he encourages you to rock against his face. You move slowly, using the headboard for some stability as he glides his tongue over you.

This, this, he was happy with. This he could do, no problem. He glanced up at you, pride swelling in his chest at the pleasure on your face, at how tightly your eyes were screwed shut. He devoured you hungrily, every sound you made going straight to his dick, his cock twitching and throbbing with every cry and stuttered breath.

He prided himself on this too much. At being able to make someone cum so hard with his mouth on their pussy. He loved to see the surprise in his girl’s faces at how quickly their legs shook, the shock when they released he wasn’t just using them for a quick fuck. When their fake moans suddenly turned into real ones. When they came all over his mouth.

You moaned again, grinding down against him, rolling your hips and pulling at his hair.

And Blue nearly lost it, the pleasure sparking along his spine and nearly forcing him over the edge.

“So good Blue, oh my god,” you bite your lip hard and Blue’s eyes rolled back into his head. The praise making his chest light and head dizzy.

Anselm grunted softly, unable to just watch for any longer. He got off the bed and rummaged through the side drawer, fishing out a bottle of lube before returning to his kneeling position between Blue’s legs.

He poured some of the lube onto his hand, warming it for a moment before he stroked himself teasingly. Long and slow, twisting his wrist right when he got to the tip, before he moved a little forward and positioned himself better.

He took hold of Blue’s dick, just managing to hold it and himself in the same hand as he pumped them both up and down.

Blue practically screamed, sobbing in pleasure.

“Gonna have to keep it together Blue.” Anselm groaned. “Can’t cum yet.”

Blue swirled his tongue around your clit, rocking your hips harder into his eager mouth. He needed to cum, so desperate to, but if he couldn’t have his own he’d have yours. Craved it more than breathing.

You moan Blue’s name with every breath, grinding against him. Your toes curling as pleasure began to coil in your stomach.

Anselm pushed you forward, changing the angle and making you arch your back while he continued to pump his and Blue’s cocks.

He slowly slid two fingers into your eager heat, groaning at your wetness. “Blue she is dripping. Fuck.”

Blue whined in response.

Anselm steadily pushed his fingers in and out before adding a third. You gasped at the stretch, holding onto the headboard for dear life.

“She loves what you’re doing Blue,” he bit his lip, “I can feel her clenching around my fingers.”

Blue sobbed, thrusting up into Anselm’s hand as much as he was able to.

“She’s gonna cum all over you. Do you want that?”

Blue nodded deliriously, despite no one being able to see.

“Want her to scream your name?” Anselm picked up his pace.

Blue moaned loudly, the sound almost as loud as your own cry of pleasure.

Anselm let go of Blue’s cock, pumping his own twice before he did the same. He leaned closer, his fingers still moving within your heat and pulled you up and back until your shoulder blades were pressing against his chest. His free hand holding your chin and throat.

“You heard the man.” He growled in your ear, pushing his fingers against a spot that he had memorised as Blue sucked on your clit for all he was worth.

Your orgasm crashed into you, whiting out your vision for a moment as you cried out Blue’s name. Your thighs shaking as your husband bit your neck, holding you against him.

You weren’t quite sure how you got there for a second, but the next thing you knew you were off Blue’s mouth, Anselm’s strong arms wrapped around you. Your back was flush against his chest, his erection hot and hard against your skin where it was sandwiched between you.

Blue leant up, his mouth, chin and neck dripping with your release. He breathed deeply, looking at you dreamily.

“Was that okay?” He asked, desperate for more praise.

You nod, exhausted, reaching out for him. Blue eagerly moved into your touch, the happiness in his chest was making him giddy.

“Lay back down.” Anselm said, his voice firm but kind and Blue followed his order without a second thought.

Anselm kissed your neck and cheek. “You okay to keep going?” He muttered.

You smile and nod, kissing his lips and nuzzling into his beard.

“Good.” He kissed your shoulder. “I think Blue’s been a good boy, hasn’t he?”

You nod. “Very good.”

Blue blushes, squirming a little and trying his best to stay still.

“I think he deserves a treat.” Anselm nips at your throat before looking back at Blue. “Do you think you deserve a treat?”

Blue swallowed and nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, please. I’ll be so good.”

Heat dusted along his cheeks as he spoke, a faint remnant of embarrassment that he was begging so willingly.

Anselm regarded him for a moment, “you have to promise not to cum unless I say you can.”

“I promise, I promise,” Blue nearly stumbled over the words in his hast to get them out. “I won’t.”

The older man nods and smiles. “Alright, if you’re sure you can be a good boy…” He kisses your shoulder again. “I’m going to talk you through it, understand?”

Blue nodded eagerly.

“My lovely wife is going to sit on your cock.”

Blue groaned, closing his eyes as his dick throbbed at the thought of it. The warmth of you clenching down on him was enough to drive him to madness.

Anselm lightly pinched his thigh, still keeping you in his lap with his right hard wrapped tightly around your waist.

The pinch hurt briefly, and Blue’s eyes flicked open instantly.

“No cumming.” Anselm gave him a stern look.

Blue bit his lip and nodded.

“Alright.” Anselm said at last, seemingly satisfied, and loosened his grip on you.

You slowly moved forwards, placing your knees on either side of Blue’s hips and took hold of his cock.

There was an audible click as Blue swallowed, his hands balled up into fists against the sheets. He watched your every movement holding his breath as you languidly positioned yourself above him and sunk down onto his length.

Blue moaned loudly, relief briefly flooding his veins as your tight warmth enveloped him. It was intoxicating, so much after being teased for so long. And it just kept getting better as you slid further and further down.

Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside, Blue opened his eyes to look up at you. Tears streamed across his face, his carefully applied eyeliner smudged and smeared across his skin.

“How does he feel?” Anselm whispered into your ear.

“Good.” You moaned.

Blue whimpered at your words.

“Good.” Anselm placed his hand on the top of your spine and pushed gently. You sunk forward, moving so that your breasts were pressed up against Blue’s chest.

The angle change made his breath catch in his throat.

“You okay?”

He nods, trying to hold himself together.

You smile softly and kiss him gently as his hands slide up to run along your back.

Anselm groaned,adding more lube to his hand and palming himself while he gazed at the sight of Blue’s cock splitting you open. How your slick leaked out and coated his skin.

“You okay with this, my love?”

You broke this kiss with Blue long enough to nod and mutter, “yes.”

“Alright,” Anselm ran the tip of his lube coated forefinger along your thigh before pushing against your entrance and slipping inside.

Blue gasped, a string of expletives falling out of his mouth as he felt Anselm’s finger slide into your cunt alongside his dick.

You groaned at the fullness, holding tightly onto Blue’s shoulders.

“Okay?” Anselm whispered, trying to keep a neutral tone and hold back the blatant desire from his voice.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” Blue panted and you nodded.

Anselm slowly slipped another finger in, pumping them both in and out lazily, stretching you completely and rubbing against the thick vein that ran up the length of Blue’s cock.

Blue gasped, his fingers digging into your back as you squeezed him, every nerve ending in his body was firing with pleasure. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he panted and sobbed.

Anselm added a third finger into your cunt. “Fuck, so greedy my love.” Desire made his voice gruff and low. He shifted closer, moving on his knees as he began to move his hand quicker, fucking both of you.

“Fuck, baby, need you.” You cried out, moving against his fingers.

“Whatever the lady wants.” Anselm pulled his hand away, your slick mixing with the lube on his fingers. He pumped his cock, covering it with your wetness and more lube before he lined himself up with your pussy and pushed in.

Blue moaned so loudly it was almost a scream. Your walls clenching down on him, the sweet slide of Anselm’s cock pushing into you, rubbing against his own dick, it was so much, too much. Not enough.

You gasped as Anselm bottomed out.

“You okay, my love?”

“Good,” you nodded. “Full.” That was an understatement, you were stretched to the limit. The bulge of both of their cocks pushing out your stomach so that Blue could feel it underneath you.

Anselm kissed your back, pressing his forehead against your neck and stayed still, letting you move and adjust to their combined size.

“I wasn’t sure we’d both fit.” Your husband mutters against your skin, you can hear the tension in his voice, how hard he’s trying not to buck into you.

You chuckle and move your legs a little, sitting a bit further up, your palms flat against the mattress either side of Blue’s head.

So full. But it was so good.

Both of them seemed to be pushing on different parts that felt exceptional, experimentally you ground down a little, rolling your hips.

“Oh shit!”

“Oh fuck!”

You chuckled at their combined reactions and slowly began to rock a little, back and forth, back and forth.

Blue’s hand flew to your thighs, trying to ground himself as he arched his back and screwed up his eyes.

Anselm leaned forward even more, pressing his chest against your back and rolling his hips into you, taking over and guiding your movements.

Heat quickly began to spark along your nerves. The sensation so overwhelming as they both rocked into you, finding a toe curling rhythm that was quickly making you see stars.

Anselm grunted, biting your neck as he picked up the pace, growling as he snapped his hips into you and rutting like an animal.

You let out a wail as pleasure spiked across your skin. Blue’s own cry echoing your own.

The bed creaked, your combined pants of air and the slick sound as you were fucked within an inch of your life filled the room.

Blue sobbed, so much, too much. He was hurtling towards his orgasm too fast. “Please, please, please, I need to cum, I’m going to cum, please!”

“Not yet.” Anselm growled, snaking his hand down to tease your clit while the other pinched your nipple.

You cried out, clenching down on both of them as they slid in and out of you, hitting every single devastating spot inside.

Anselm planted his right foot on the floor and thrusted into your harder, faster as Blue whimpered and you moaned, bouncing up and down on both of them.

The tight ball of pleasure in your belly dropped, seemed to deepen impossibly, and oh fuck, you recognised this feeling.

“Anselm, I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” you could barely get the words out, every muscle tensing.

“That’s it,” he growled into your ear, “fucking squirt all over him.”

Blue opened his eyes, gasping as you convulsed, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave as you squirted all over his stomach.

Anselm held onto you tightly, fucking your though it and locked eyes with Blue. “Cum.”

It was like a switch had been hit. Blue sobbed as he came, shooting his load deep inside you as you shook around him, painting your walls and Anselm’s cock with his cum.

Anselm growled loudly, the sound rumbling through his bones as he chased his release, the sight of you and Blue lost in pleasure underneath him pushed him over the edge. He groaned as his orgasm finally crested, sapping the strength from his limbs as he thrusted mindlessly, pumping his spend into your abused hole.

Blue shook a little, coming back to himself, having seemingly passed out for a second. You were exhausted, your weight on top of him a comforting necessity.

Somehow you managed to lean up and kiss his cheek, running your lips over his sweat and tear stained skin before you laid back onto his chest. Letting exhaustion overtake you.

He held you tightly. His chest hurt, it was like someone had cracked open his ribs. He felt raw despite the blissful afterglow of his orgasm.

Anselm carefully pulled out, admiring the mixture of cum leaking out of you and onto Blue for a moment before he kissed your cheek and Blue’s forehead.

“I’ll be right back.” He muttered before he left the room.

Blue sniffed, swallowed, tried to keep himself together. Everything hurt, not physically but something deep in his chest and head. Like he had been cut, sliced cleanly.

He chest shook as he started to cry silently.

You raised your head quickly, snapping out of the call of post orgasm slumber.

“Blue, baby?” You cupped his face, your movements a little difficult with how hard he was holding you.

He screwed up his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I’m sorry, I, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothed, leaning up and kissing his cheeks and lips. “It happens sometimes.”

He swallowed. “It does?”

You hummed an affirmative. “Strong emotions and Anselm did edge you quite a bit.” You smile softly at him and he laughs once, quietly through the tears before he sniffs again and nods.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You kiss him again. “You’re allowed to cry. Just know that you’re safe and you’re loved.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Loved?” He whispered.

“Loved.” You repeated and pressed your lips against his, lightly teasing your tongue into his mouth.

Anselm came back in with a jug of water and three glasses, as well as two wet and warm wash cloths.

He set the tray down on the side before kissing you and then kissing Blue. Lightly he stroked Blue’s hair. “You okay?”

Blue nodded and smiled.

“Just feeling a bit emotional.” You explained.

“Ah,” Anselm lays down next to you both, wrapping one arm around Blue and one around you. “I understand, and I know the best cure for that.”

He waits until Blue raises his eyebrows in question to continue.

“A glass of water, a nice hot bath and then lots of cuddles under warm blankets. Sound good?”

You smile and lean your head against your husband’s shoulder.

“Sounds very good.” Blue grins.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

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writings-ofthe-heart · 4 months

Note

Haaaayyyyy!!Can you make my request????If you can,could you make headcanons of Brett from inside job????

Brett Hand/Reader headcanons

WC ; 593

Side notes ; UGH YES! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! I did romantic only im sorry anon i am so deeply in love with him.

• First, Brett we all know, and love is insanely smooth. He’ll stroll up to any girl he wants and “rizz them up,” with his genuine conversation charisma. Surprisingly, it’s different with you.

• You’re at a bar, exhausted. The 9-5 job you do is grueling and thankless. Being so far from family, having no time for socializing, you’re left on your own.

• Cue in Brett had a bit too much “fun juice,” and is currently hanging off Reagan who is trying to get him off her.

• “Brett, what the fuck are you doing?!” Reagan groaned, pulling his sticky fingers off her. He seemed to be in a daze when he spotted you. A mess, maybe, but lonely for sure.

• And Brett was NOT going to let someone be lonely, on a Friday night.

• He stood, suddenly and walked to your side slowing down when he realized his heart was pounding, palms sweaty.

• Why was he so nervous???

• You were staring him down since you caught eye contact the first time. Maybe you were glaring at his weirdly chiseled jawline, and the way he seemed in a trance, by what, you wouldn’t know.

• Brett took a deep breath, sliding across into the chair beside you.

• “Hey.” He choked, on his spit. You swirled your drink and chuckled.

• “Take your time, sweetheart.” Your voice rang in his ears, like honey spilling over his heart.

• His knees gave in, like seriously. He dropped to his knees. You could only stare down at him, laughing.

• Stupidly laughing, loudly.

• Brett saw your smile, your laugh and began to awkwardly laugh along.

• His stomach did so many flips that night.

• You and Brett spent the entire night talking, drunkenly laughing over stupid things and enjoying each other's company.

• After several dates, you came to the conclusion, you knew nothing about Brett.

• He would only listen to you, a spineless man. But you knew better, you knew he had to have something unique about him.

• So you tried, asking him questions every time you saw him. He got nervous every time.

• After several more dates, you pried info out of him.

• “Puppets? Well... that’s interesting.” You kept an open mind, but couldn’t help but giggle.

• “W..What? Is it really funny?” He laughed, coughing anxiously. You shook your head, leaning over to him and pecking his cheek.

• “You sweet, loveable man.” Under your breath, he heard you and grinned widely.

• From then on, the relationship was the most genuine, loving connection you’d ever had.

• He loved you dearly, and was never afraid to show it.

• I fear this man has all five love languages.

• He’d send you flowers to your job at least monthly. ‘To cheer you up! <3’

• Brett would be amazing at cooking.

• You’d both be defintely be the dynamic of girlboss and her malewife.

• He loves to do things for you, cuddle and kiss you whenever he has the chance.

• Brett would only want that love to be returned in acts of service, physical touch, etc.

• He looooveeessss being coddled by you, whenever he’s sick, he knows he’s in good hands.

• Whenever Brett gets drunk, he gets really clingy... and lovey... which makes him talk nonsense.

• Which is nonsense to you.

• “Mmm...” He tugged on your dress, mumbling your name. “I can’t wait to grow old with you, god, I love you!” He sobbed, embracing you tightly.

• You pat him, smugly taking a video.

• He was never redder the next day, shrieking at you.

• All in all, you love him, he loves you.

• He’d really do anything for you.

#writers on tumblr #x reader #inside job #brett hand #brett hand this is back hand #inside job brett hand #inside job brett #brett x reader #brett hand x reader #brett hand x you #brett x you #i love you brett hand

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fabseg-reader · 14 days

Text

Miraculous fanart: Beebug/Queenbug/Queenlady Date + Miraculous rewriting: Chloenette AU (Season 2)

The Chloenette AU is updated.

Prologue

Season 1

Time for the rewriting !

The Story and its changes:

Season 2:

The Collector:

Marinette meets Master Fu and Wayzz. The old man reveals he is the last Guardian of the Miracle Box.

Marinette presents the Grimoire to Fu who recognizes the book. She lies to him about the finding of the book (like in the original story). She can't imagine Adrien can be Hawkmoth.

Adrien is grounded at home by his father for the lost of the book.

In this AU, when Marinette comes to school, it's Chloé who calls her about Adrien's groundment. Nino and Alya reveal to the bluenette the grimoire was Adrien's dad's property. So Marinette suspects Gabriel Agreste to be Hawkmoth.

The story and the battle happen in the same way as in canon. The Collector is desakumatized. Marinette brings back the grimoire to the manor. Adrien cimes back to Françoise Dupont school.

This is eventually confirmed Gabriel is in fact Hawkmoth.

Prime Queen:

Marinette requests Alya for babysitting Manon because she must go to the TVi Studio as Ladybug. There is the interview with Nadja Chamack in the Face to Face show. Cat Noir is invited too.

During the interview, Chloé appears in the show by videocall. In this AU, the conversation could be:

Nadja: Hello caller. State your name and your question.

Chloé: Err, seriously Nadja? Surely, no one would be the first caller but me. I'm only the perfect match for Ladybug.

Nadja: Oh yes, of course. Hello there, Chloé Bourgeois. Daughter of the mayor of Paris...

Chloé: And don't forget my daddy is the manager of the Grand Paris, the best luxury hotel in the entire city.

Nadja: Err, thank you for reminding us. What is your question, Chloé ?

Oh, I don't have a question. I just wanted to say hi, since as you all know, we're such very good friends: Ladybug, Cat Noir and I !

Ladybug and Cat Noir blush when Chloé claims to be the perfect match. But Ladybug is a bit of uncomfortable because of that.

Meanwhile, this info gratifies Gabriel (a.k.a. Hawkmoth) who watches the interview. He is more satisfied than he is when Ladybug said her and Cat Noir must keep their identities secret. He remembers the Antibug incident (still in the AU).

The TV reveals the photos implying "romantic" moments between Ladybug and Cat Noir. The red black-spotted superheroin angrily leaves the broadcast grabbing Cat Noir until the exit.

Nadia is akumatized into Prime Queen. The battle happens identically to canon. But there is a lot of changes.

The scoop Prime Queen wants to hear the love life of Ladybug and Cat Noir

The rules for my show are simple, admit the truth live on TV that you're dating and in love and I'll stop the train ! Oh ! And unless Chloé is the "perfect match" with one of you two !

Chloé being Chloé: She openly teases Prime Queen.

Do you want a scoop ? I am the perfect girlfriend for Ladybug. Even for everyone. Everyone loves me. 😏

When Ladybug and Cat Noir fall trapped in the freezer of the kitchen of the Grand Paris Hotel, Prime Queen holds Alya AND Chloé as hostages (The akumatized supervillainess had retaken the blondie girl from the subway train in the same moment). Imprisoned in the same sarcophagus, the rich girl and the ladyblogger are cramped inside.

Hawkmoth ordered her to take the blondie brat as prisoner for forcing Ladybug and Cat Noir to give up their miraculous (Volpina vibes). The two heroes (the two Chloé's childhood friends) are panicked.

Meanwhile, Ladybug and Cat Noir manage to reverse the issue of the battle (same way as in canon: Lucky Charm, trick and Miraculous Ladybug !).

After the battle, Marinette joins Alya and Manon for recomforting her and she calls Chloé for the same reason.

Chloé will respond to Marinette Adrien has already expressed his worries about her hostage previous situation. She even sends a text to the bluenette:

I love you two so much. 😘 But I love Ladybug more. 😋🥰

Damn ! Marinette would like to live her romance with Adrien but Chloé openly expresses to be in love with Ladybug.

That's too hot for Mari. There is a conversation between her and Tikki:

Marinette: Someone must say to Chloé she must stop to say she loves me... Uh... Ladybug. Didn't she learned anything after the Vanisher and Antibug incidents ?Tikki: There aren't another choice, Marinette. You must convince her to shut up. Her actions and her behavior cause dôme trouble in your mission to find and stop Hawkmoth.Marinette: Yeah. But I don't have to hurt her feelings. I swear I will reveal who I really am in another day.Tikki: Promise, Marinette. It's necessary to keep your identity secret for protecting your loved ones.Marinette: I swear.

On TVi, the Face to Face show isn't cancelled after the incident. And Nadja invites Alya for this new airing episode (like in canon).

Glaciator:

Same story than in canon but with some changes.

Chloé appears in this story.

Adrien learns piano séance at home. He can't exit from the major today but Cat Noir.

The blondie girl (accompanied of Sabrina) joins the group (Nino, Alya, Ivan, Mylène and Marinette) to see André the Sweetheart matchmaker. The rich brat order him an ice cream for sharing it with Ladybug. But André backfires her because "Ladybug and Cat Noir are the perfect match".

Pissed off, Chloé threats the Ice Cream seller of closing his business by calling her Daddy the mayor and she mocks the Ice Cream Man's love principes before leaving the scene.

That shocks André. This blackmailing causes the akumatization of the latter into Glaciator. His akumatization happens more early than in canon. And now, he seeks revenge against Chloé.

Marinette briefly berates Chloé for her harmful behavior before fleeing the zone and transforming into Ladybug.

Cat Noir was just preparing the decoration for his date with Ladybug (he had previously invited her) when he sees Glaciator causing chaos in Paris.

Ladybug and Cat Noir stand up together against Glaciator. The first heroin tells to Cat Noir what is happened.

Cat Noir (thinking): It's supposed a good day for offering a date with my Lady until Chloé... another Akuma messes up. Let's clean up the things and I will talk about our date night later.

There aren't any issues about Ladybug's absence in the date spot.

They eventually defeat him in same way as in canon.

After the battle, Cat Noir recalls Ladybug about the date night and the location. The superheroin eventually comes to the rendezvous and she tells to his Chaton she has a crush on another boy (without saying his name: Adrien). Meanwhile, she wants to be just friends with Cat Noir as an exceptional partner. The Catboy accepts her choice. Same thing with Chloé the so-called perfect match: The two heroes agree.

Cat Noir offers his flower to Ladybug with a kiss on the cheek in same way as in canon. Their relationship is platonic.

About Chloé, she eventually "apologizes" to the Ice Cream seller for her behavior. The next day, Marinette and Chloé agree to come together to see André the Ice Cream Man (not the mayor).

The latter offers to the two girls an Ice Cream with perfume of: Honey🟡, Cranberry🔵, Strawberry🔴 and Chocolate⚫. 🍨

Despair Bear:

The story begins at Françoise Dupont when Tom Dupain learns to the Marinette's class how to bake macarons. But Chloé thinks the learning is boring. So she secretly calls the fire department. That causing the fire alarm activation forcing all the classes to evacuate.

Like in canon, Mr Damoclès punishes the entire school to cleaning up the place. All the students except Chloé.

The canon divergence comes: Chloé (who is a semi-bully) attempted to preserve both Marinette, Adrien from the sanction but the two latters openly declare they prefer clean up with their classmates instead of benefit that.

Adrien even gaslights Chloé about her actions and her attitude. He requires her to become kind. By waiting that, he breaks up their friendship.

Unsatisfied and saddened about Adrien ending their friendship, Chloé decides to "change". With the guidance of her butler Armand Jean-???, she organisates a party at the Grand Hotel.

When Chloé sends invitations to the teens from Françoise Dupont, she don't express any disgust but joy about inviting Marinette (the latter isn't surprised about receiving one invitation from her odd childhood friend).

Meanwhile, she feels uncomfortable because of her butler exhibiting her teddy bear Mr. Cuddly in front of her.

At the Grand Paris Hotel, when Chloé comes to greet the guests (under the guidance of the butler and Mr. Cuddly), the scene with Marinette happens a bit of differently: They kiss each others cheeks like consensual people (Because they were familiar in this AU).

At the same scene, before the mutual kissing, the two concerned girls have a conversation by murmuring. Their discret conversation:

Chloé: Hey, Dupain-Cheng. What do you think about my party Marinette: You just try to send the fire alarm thing into the oblivion with this party, right ? Chloé: Ridiculous ! I'm sure you meet some things that can be boring and you will want to mess theses up. Marinette: You meet me only for make me be like you ?! Chloé: No. No. You're just interesting too much for me. I see in you a kind of girl who is able to practice the power on others. Marinette: You confessed me "you loved me" during these last years just because I should have any form of "power" ? Chloé: You must understand what we can do with any power, Dupain-Cheng. You must thank me for letting you become the class representative. I could guide you. Marinette: And I could guide you if you seek to change. Chloé (briefly watching her butler and Mr. Cuddly): Someone already cares about my... guidance. Do you kiss me or we will stay frozen until the night ? Hurry up. Marinette: Kiss... You ?!Chloé: Only in the cheek but make it fast.

The moments when Chloé acts as nice (still under the guidance of the butler) towards guests happen like in canon.

When Nino comes on stage for playing DJ music, Chloé wants to dance with Adrien but she is hesitant with Marinette. Sabrina (instead of Kim) requests Chloé for dance. The latter reluctantly accepts (under the pression guidance of Jean Mr. Cuddly).

Marinette and Adrien dance together.

Frustated she can't dance neither with Adrien nor with Marinette and nor with Ladybug, Chloé wants to interupt it all. But the butler stands up with Mr. Cuddly.

That's enough for Chloé Bourgeois who snaps out in anger. She fires his butler who is eventually akumatized into Despair Bear. Hawkmoth waited this too long.

The battle happens in same way as in canon. The two heroes deakumatize the butler with the help of Chloé. She rehires him.

In the final scene, Chloé makes efforts to be kind again by inviting Marinette's dad for finish the interupted lesson from Françoise Dupont school. Her friendship with Adrien is saved.

She takes the time to judge everyone's macarons with correctness. She even eats one of Marinette's macarons with pleasure: Delicious ! Utterly delicious ! ❤

Riposte:

In the original episode, Chloé doesn't appear. But in this AU, she comes to Françoise Dupont school accompanied of Sabrina. The two girls join Marinette because the latter participates to Armand D'Argencourt's fencing with Adrien.

When Marinette and Adrien fence together. Chloé claims Adrien has the high ground while Sabrina claims the top for Marinette.

Kagami appears on the court and challenges Adrien for integrate the D'Argencourt fencing school. The duel happens like in canon.

The divergence: Marinette and Chloé are the only ones who ses the end of the end. When D'Argencourt asks "Who hit first ?" Marinette hesitates. While she was going to name Adrien as the winner, Chloé cuts the bakery girl's line by directly calling Adrien as the winner.

Kagami is akumatized into Riposte. The battle happens like in canon

But Chloé joins Ladybug for the fight. The only times when Chloé is useful in the melee are these moments: when she tries to hide Adrien and later when she distracts Riposte by provoking lines (that doesn't impress the akuma).

Same way as in canon, Riposte is defeated and deakumatized.

After the battle, Adrien joins Kagami to return her sword back. The two reconcile each other. Kagami accepts a second duel for a near future.

Marinette (who is detransformed after the battle) discretly listen the conversation.

In this AU, when Adrien says to Kagami Marinette is just a friend, the bakery girl is pleased. Meanwhile, she confesses to Tikki she prefers to be more friends with Adrien than Adrien said.

Later, Ladybug sees Chloé for request her to cease to intervene in akuma battles. She occasionaly sees her after each akuma battle since the Antibug incident.

Ladybug: Chloé. You must stop to put yourself in danger when an akumatized supervillain is on the run. It's for your sake. ☝😠

Chloé: Thank you, Ladybug. But, it's ridiculous. 😅 I'm sure you need me for catching Hawk Moth. And now, my proof of my support. ❤

Chloé kisses Ladybug on the cheek in every superheroin's visit and takes selfies with the relunctant superheroin.

La Befana:

Marinette celebrates her birthday. Tikki offers to her a kwagatama.

In same time, Marinette and her parents receivethe visit from Gina, her grandmother at the bakery. The latter takes her in motorcycle for visiting Parisian places that are too more childish for the bluenette.

The story for this AU is identical to the canon. Marinette leaves her grandmother for the surprise party. But the old woman believes Marinette don't want to spend time with her anymore (finding out th candies Marinette didn't have eaten). So Hawkmoth akumatizes Gina into la Befana.

Befana pertubates the party for turning Marinette into coal but the latter's friends stand up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir defeat the akumatized supervillainess and deakumatize her.

Marinette expresses her apologizes to grandma and invites her to join the party. The latter accepte and she understands her granddaughter is no longer a little child.

Adrien offers to Marinette a customized bracelet (similar to Marinette's bracelet from the episode Gamer).

Meanwhile, a girl lurking in the shadows is watching the party (especially Marinette and Adrien talking together) from the window of her bedroom: It's Lila.

The difference with the canon story is Chloé appears at the party (because she's among Marinette's friends in this AU even she has sometimes issues with the bakery girl). Sabrina too.

When Befana assaults the party, Chloé has been turned into coal statue among others coal statues while Sabrina is turned into an angel. These brats turns back to normal thanks to the Lucky Charm.

The gift Chloé offers to Marinette is a golden statuette with the form of a bee. (Coincidence?) 🐝

Frightningale:

The story happens like in canon.

Clara Nightingale holds auditions for a music video honoring Ladybug and Cat Noir at the Grand Palais.

Marinette joins her friends for the auditions. She just wants to be close to Adrien (who us worried about playing Cat Noir).

Meanwhile, Tikki requests her to keep her identity secret. That's why, after running to help the singer who tripped over the ground, the bluenette declines the Clara's offer of playing Ladybug for stay an extra with her friends after the singer has fallen and.

But a full Ladybug-cosplayed Chloé comes to make her interesting. She comes on stage to be with her Adri-Cat. Marinette changes her mind.

For this rewritten version of the story, Marinette tempers her words to Chloé by saying that:

Marinette: By showing yourself with your dances and acrobaties, you're impressive. Chloé (blushing and elated): Oh thank you Dupain-Cheng. You recognize my superior talents. Marinette: You put yourself in danger because you look like m... the real Ladybug. There may be an akumatized or possibly Hawkmoth who can believe you as our heroin. I warn you. Chloé (giggling and teasing): Do you say thar just because you are utterly jealous, the bakery gi... ?

Clara suddenly interferes in the girls' discussion.

Clara: Marinette has said like a true superheroin would have said. I was right to think you're the perfect one. About playing the Ladybug you're the worthy one. Chloé (irritated): I am more worthy one than everyone. the onlyperfectone to date Ladybug my beloved one. Me, the number one.

So Marinette is selected as the Ladybug for the video. Meanwhile, she realizes her cosplay looks like her magic outfit too well. Chloé has good reasons to say to her:

"Who looks more like Ladybug ? Huh... Who puts herself in danger by publicly pretending as Ladybug ?"

About Chloé, she later calls her Daddy the mayor of Paris for cancel the auditions. Clara is akumatized into Frightningale.

The battle eventually happens like in canon. Chloé is turned into "pink plastic?" statue ("Again ?!", the AU said. Read La Befana above ↑).

Ladybug and Cat Noir save the day by deakumatizing Clara.

After the battle, Ladybug offers HER idea to Clara about producing her music video: To invite the civilians to dance on-screen in different places of Paris and to wear their ladybug-and-cat-themed masks in same time.

What makes it different from the canon is Ladybug invites Chloé to participate in the new version of the music video. The latter only accepts it for impress Ladybug and "apologizes" Clara.

The music video Miraculous is finally aired.

Robostus:

Same story as in canon. Meanwhile, in this AU, Chloé's speaking lines are different:

Chloé: Puh-lease! Your "friend" is just a talking calculator! There's nothing "evolved" about that ! Marinette (to Markov): Don't listen to her, Markov. That girl is just a little hard of particular when she says everything she thinks. Chloé: I can say all the words describing you all as losers if I want to do it.

Markov is akumatized into Robostus. The battle happens in same way as in canon.

Robostus wants to make the wish of become a human with the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses (because of the fact Hawkmoth had previously explained "them" the Miraculous Absolute Power processus during the akumatization). So He could hang out with Max.

Robostus betrays Hawkmoth by hacking his high security system (made by Tsurugi Industries) activating the missiles and weapons. That distracts the evil Butterfly man ans that prevents him to remove Robostus' superpowers.

Ladybug and Cat Noir find out their Miraculouses can grant a wish during the battle. They deakumatize Markov with the help of Max.

After the battle, Marinette better learns about the Ultimate Miraculous Absolute Power thanks to Master Fu: The wish requires an exchange (If Robustus becomes human, one random human becomes a robot/machine).

Zombizou:

This is Caline Bustier's birthday: Each student from the Miraclass have a gift to offer to their teacher.

The gift Marinette wants to give to Miss Bustier is a cosmetics bag including a lipstick. The gift has been made by Marinette and it contains the message:

"If we wish to change the world, we must all learn to love each other."

Chloé is eventually the only one who hasn't any gift to give to Miss Bustier.

Because of their childhood friends in this AU, Marinette encourages/requests Chloé to make an action of kindness.

Marinette: Nothing. Unless you still have a little present to offer for miss Bustier like you offered me this statuette in my birthday. (Read La Befana above ↑) Chloé: Don't treat me like that, Dupain-Cheng. I am not a child you can babysit. Sabrina: Calm down, gals. (-to the class-) We can't blame Chloé for no liking birthdays. Her mom is just a... Chloé: Yeah, well, you don't have to tell 'em my life story, either. I see none of interesting about compliments and love. Marinette: Haven't you any heart, Chloé ? Chloé: Uh, of course I have a heart! Daddy will even buy me a second one, if I want.

The Miraclass goes to class for Physical Science. But Chloé and Sabrina stay in locker room. The rich girl thinks about what the bakery girl previously told to her. For provide she can give something for a birthday, she decides to bring her "personal touch" on the Marinette's gift. Next, she return to class with Sabrina.

In classroom, the students bring their gifts to Miss Bustier.

Marinette finds out her gift has been vandalized ! She berates Chloé. The Miraclass isn't even surprised about Chloé's "crime".

In the original story, Alix tells almost half of the city of Paris got akumatized because of Chloé's actions. In this AU, it was just one quarter of Parisians who got akumatized (Chloé is a semi-bully).

Miss Bustier prefers to forgive Chloé. That annoys Marinette.

The situation interests Hawkmoth too much. He sends an akuma to the school.

Miss Bustier is finally akumatized into Zombizou. And the events are happening in the same way as in canon.

When all Parisians are zombizoufied. Ladybug and Chloé are the only remained non-infected ones. At thé Eiffel Tower, Chloé remorsefully admits to be responsible of this akuma incident.

Chloé: I'm sorry ! Ladybug: What ? Chloé: This is all my fault ! I just tried to impress Miss Bustier ans everyone but I realize I made something wrong. And now, I am disappointing you. Ladybug (a bit of fascinated): Chloé...

The blondie girl saves Ladybug by standing up against a zombizoufied Cat Noir who kisses the former.

Chloé: Save us all ! And say to Miss Bustier and the bakery girl Dupain-Cheng I am sorry for all !

Ladybug eventually defeats Zombizou, deakumatizes Miss Bustier and reverses the damages.

Like in canon, Chloé apologizes to Miss Bustier for wasting her birthday.

In the final scene from the classroom, when Alya gaslights Chloé about her behavior and shenanigans. Chloé maintains her pride.

Chloé: I apologize. But only if you and the rest of the class thank me for saving everybody. 😋 Alya: That's it. As if we're going to believe you. 😑

But Marinette takes Chloé's defense. That surprises Alya and the test of the class. The discussion:

Marinette: (to Alya) Don't be too hard with Chloé. She has been a hero today. (to Chloé) I heard you helped Ladybug and saved Miss Bustier ! Awesome ! There really is a heart beating in there after all. I hope you can help others like that. 😊 Chloé (confused, blushing): Uh... Thank you Dupain-Cheng. Oh. I'm sorry I "decorated" the gift without warning you.

And Chloé brings a golden bracelet as gift on Miss Bustier's desk. But in this AU, she exposes this object to everybody before putting it on the desk. Alya admits towards Marinette there can have a good side on Chloé anyways.

Captain Hardrock:

Today is the National Music Festival in Paris.

The story is the same as in canon.

Marinette meets Luka. She feels an interest on him.

But the bluenette is confused between Adrien and Luka (even Alya notices the "compass" thing to her).

Anarka, Luka's and Juleka's mother, is akumatized into Captain Hardrock.

Ladybug and Cat Noir are both helped by Nino, Alya, Mylène and the Kitty Section (Ivan, Rose, Juleka and Luka) for vainquish Captain Hardrock and finally to deakumatize Anarka.

Chloé doesn't appear but Alya mentions the blondie girl when she talks about the "love compass" with Marinette.

Is the compass going crazy ? If Chloé was here, her own compass should be going crazy too.

Crazy about Adrikins ? Dupain-Cheng ? Ladybug ? Luka ? I let you imagine.

Sapotis+Anansi:

Same stories as in canon.

Ella and Etta, the Alya's younger twin sisters, are both akumatized into two creatures called Sapotis. By cloning themselves, they cause big troubles in Paris.

Ladybug offers the Fox Miraculous to Alya for defeating Ella and Etta, her young twin siblings turned into Sapotis. The Ladyblogger, who meets Trixx, becomes Rena Rouge. The two heroes save the day night.

Nora, Alya's older sister, is akumatized into Anansi and she takes Alya as hostage at the Arc-De-Triomphe. Cat Noir is trapped in the spiderweb during the battle.

Ladybug gives the Turtle Miraculous to Nino for saving and protecting Alya better. Nino who meets Wayzz, becomes Carapace. Nora is eventually deakumatized, Alya is saved and Paris is repaired with the Miraculous Ladybug power.

I add the Chloé's POV about the two new superheroes:

"They are utterly ridiculous if we compare them with Ladybug and Cat Noir her sidekick. I can be a better superheroin than these two newbies."

Queen's Battle/Style Queen+Queen Wasp:

There are major changes for this (pair of) episode(s).

The Fashion Week is happening.

Audrey, the world's harshest fashion critic and Chloé's mother, comes to the event.

In this AU, Marinette is already aware about Audrey's profession. Chloé talked about her mom to Marinette during the previous years when the two girls were hanging out each other. (see Prologue)

Like in canon, Marinette is still nervous about having her hat get misjudged by Audrey (from "Mr. Pigeon").

Gabriel causes Audrey's akumatization in Style Queen.

Style Queen takes Adrien (turned into a golden statue) as hostage (at the horror of Gabriel/Hawkmoth) and Chloé as "sidekick" bringing them at the Eiffel Tower.

Ladybug fights alone against Style Queen and retreats.

In this AU, Ladybug saves Chloé from her akumatized mom. Once safe, the superheroin requests her lovesick fangirl to stay away from the akuma incident for her latter's safety. Chloé relunctantly accepts to follow her request (for now).

Marinette sees Master Fu in his massage shop. She finds out Cat Noir is unavailable (by watching and meeting Plagg on place). She invites the Kwami and takes the Bee Miraculous for finding a helpful holder.

Chloé, who stayed hidden for a few minutes, loses patience:

"Ridiculous ! I'm sure you need ME to deakumatize my mom, Ladydumb !"

She decides to run to the Eiffel Tower for confronting Style Queen.

Ladybug finds Alya at place. She is going to bring her the Bee Miraculous but the akumatized villainess ambushes them and transforms Alya into a golden statue.

At the same moment, Chloé was desperately climbing the stairs ("Why is the elevator inactive ?!"). She finds a recently-fallen-from-the-sky hexagonal box on the next stairs. She opens the box and a kwami suddenly appears in front of her (that causing her screaming). Pollen elegantly greets a surprised and confused Chloé: "Hello, my queen."

At the next upstairs, Ladybug is submerged by Style Queen's attacks (even the Lucky Charm hasn't been useless like in canon).

In the moment when Plagg shows up for activate his Cataclysm against the villainess, an unknown masked teenage girl with a bee-themed outfit appears in the sight of Ladybug from behind the enemy.

The unexpected guest fastly paralyzes Style Queen with the Venom. Ladybug realizes her mysterious savior has the Bee Miraculous.

Plagg destroys the magic force field and Ladybug can destroy the akumatized object. Style Queen's damages are reversed. Adrien and Alya are freed from the spell.

While Alya finally gets to the floor from the battle, Ladybug speaks with the new superheroin:

Chloé/The anonymous superheroin: I think that's a pleasure to me about stand with you, Ladybug. Ladybug: Thank you for the help. But... Who are you ? Anonymous superheroin: You can rely on me for supporting you, my Lady. I am Queen Bee. And now, you owe me. ❤

The bipping sounds can be heard from the Ladybug earrings and Bee hair comb.

Queen Bee (with a bit of seductive tond): I understand you want to fly away now, my Lady. -giggles- But that's the same for me. Bye ! 😘 Ladybug: Hey ! Wait !

Queen Bee blows a kiss at Ladybug before suddenly leaving the Eiffel Tower.

After the Style Queen incident, Ladybug bring back Adrien to the Fashion Week.

Gabriel (who is remorseful for endangering his son twice (Watch Gorizilla and Style Queen)) makes hisnpublic entrance at thé Fashion Week.

Marinette faces the Audrey's rating of her hat and... The latter appreciates it !

Audrey offers to Marinette to follow her to New York for learning the path of the fashion designer to her. That infuriates Chloé who calls out Audrey:

Chloé: It's... It's ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous ! I've never been to New York with you and you’re taking Marinette Dupain-Cheng ! Audrey: I'm taking her because she's exceptional Claudette. Uh— Chloé. Chloé: I'm exceptional, too ! Audrey: The only exceptional thing about you, my dear… is your mother. Chloé (exploding of ): How do you dare ? You have never paid attention to me since you were gone to New York and you come back only to say that to me ?! Pollen !

Pollen appears from the yellow jacket.

"Pollen, Buzz on !"

Everyone is shocked (especially Marinette/Ladybug who is the most shocked to see Queen Bee, her secret savior who recently helped her against Style Queen, is in fact Chloé). Everyone except Audrey who doesn't care about.

In this AU, the Subway Train incident never happens. Instead of this thing, Chloé Queen Bee commits an intrusion at the TV broadcast. On camera. On live.

Both Marinette and Adrien watch the Queen Bee's disruption appearance on TV while they go home each other.

In TVi Studio, Queen Bee holds a "speech" on broadcast:

"I am Queen Bee. Your new superhero. I put Paris under MY protection. I have a message to Ladybug: "I feel we will good besties in love and we will work together." And to Hawkmoth: "The time has come for you to be ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous !"

Later, Gabriel talks with Nooroo (who us shocked to see his master becoming Hawkmoth again):

I still have one chance, Nooroo. All is not lost. I have a unique opportunity to akumatize someone with a Miraculous. A loved one in Ladybug: Chloé Bourgeois. A superhero-turned-supervillain can only be… exceptional ! 😈

At the same moment, Ladybug and Cat Noir come to TVi Studio for take back the Bee Miraculous to Chloé.

They ask to Queen Bee to give the Bee Miraculous but she objects. When she flees away, she paralyzes Alec for distract the two heroes.

A saddened Queen Bee takes refuge at the Grand Hotel and mourns about her day she is actually living. She falls in her thoughts.

"Today, I am become an exceptional superheroin and Ladybug disapproves that ? I saved her. Mom still doesn't like me. I have even roasted Hawkmoth into Ridiculous but Ladybug rejects that ? What's wrong with me ? No ! What's wrong with her ? What's wrong with the world ?!"

Hawkmoth contacts Queen Bee. The conversation:

Hawkmoth: Queen Wasp, I am Hawk Moth. Queen Bee: How do you dare, Hawkmoth ? I don't want to breath the same as you. Hawkmoth Ladybug and Cat Noir don't want you as their friend nor their partner, so you will be their most powerful enemy. Queen Bee: Why would I take your offer ? Hawkmoth: Because you're exceptional. We can take revenge against Ladybug and Cat Noir by seizing their Miraculouses. Queen Bee/Queen Wasp: You can count on me, Hawk Moth. I'll teach them to respect me.

Queen Bee is akumatized Queen Wasp. Ladybug and Cat Noir come to the Grand Hotel. They confront the new akumatized superheroin-turned-villainess.

The battle unfolds identically like in the original story but there are slight differences.

Ladybug tries to reason Chloé/Queen Bee to counter the Hawkmoth's influence (that because Chloé already did it in Antibug (See Season 1)).

Ladybug: You didn't need to be like that, Chlo... Queen Bee. Have you forgotten the time when you were Antibug and when you rejected the akuma ? I already said you were an exceptional friend. Queen Wasp: Don't say it, Ladybug ! 😡 I only remember you're nothing but a jealous loser. Utterly jealous of me ! I just wanted to help you but you still treat me like a ridiculous ! It's too late. I'll crush you, Ladydumb ! 💀

Ladybug and Cat Noir are retreating. The red black-spotted superheroin summons the Lucky Charm like in canon. The two heroes immobilize Queen Wasp.

In this AU, Ladybug and Cat Noir don't destroy the honey comb (containing the akuma) yet. The two heroes bring Queen Wasp from the Seine to a hidden place. Ladybug makes an ultimate speech to a tied and muffled Queen Wasp Queen Bee Chloé:

Chloé... Huh... Queen Bee. I fully understand what do you want. You confessed me you love me. You wanted to side with me. Today, you accomplished it all as Queen Bee for impressing me, Paris and your mom. So I committed a mistake. I must say that to you: "Thank you for helping me, Queen Bee. You're exceptional. I'm your biggest fan and you can say everything to me." So trust me !

Thanks to Ladybug's words, an emotional and crying Queen Wasp calms down. She rejects the qakuma.

That surprises Hawkmoth (NOT AGAIN !!). That's second time someone rejects his akuma and the worst point is it's the same person who manages to do it twice.

"Queen Wasp is supposed to be my best creation. But even with a Miraculous on her, she still able to repell my akuma. 🤬 Ladybug and Cat Noir had convinced Chloé to change her mind but they made a mistake today... and there will be others. With Chloé becoming Queen Bee, knowing this brat, I still can exploit her relationship with the two heroes. This brat can be Ladybug's ally... or her latter's weakness. 😈 (to Émilie in her coffin) Then, we'll finally be together once again… my love."

Miraculous Ladybug repairs the damages and the Nadja Chamack's reporter crew comes to see Chloé for make her confront the Audrey's reaction.

Like in canon, Audrey expresses her disappointment to Chloé. But in this AU, Ladybug becomes angry and takes Chloé's defense by roasting backfiring the latter's mom. The Ladybug's line to Audrey:

"You're also wrong about your daughter not being exceptional. In fact, Chloé is exceptionally mean... Huh... She have any power enough to become a superhero. She may be more exceptional than you. Compared to you, even a rock seems more capable of becoming popular."

Chloé nervously laughs about her mom being roasted by Ladybug.

Next, she gives the Bee miraculous to Ladybug (despite she initially hesitant) because The latter had explained her to have accidentally lost the concerned artefact ans she tells the fact Hawkmoth is now aware Chloé and Queen Bee are the same person.

Like in canon, Marinette declines Audrey's offer of becoming fashion designer and "convinces" her to stay in Paris for better knowing Chloé being "exceptional" (in presence of the daughter, of course).

In this AU, After the mom-daughter moment, Chloé thanks Marinette for resolve the issue with her mom. Chloé's line:

I must recognize you're exceptional for a bakery girl, Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette eventually blushes when she listens that. 😳

We have the final scene at the Dupain-Cheng's home, where Marinette plays video games with her parents and Alya. But in this AU, Chloé and Sabrina are here too. They play video games with Marinette and Alya (and Chloé is learning how to play in this ridiculous video game named Ultimate Mecha Strike III).

Malediktator:

There are major changes for this episode.

Chloé presents to her class a video treating about an "interview between Ladybug and Queen Bee".

Like in the original story, nobody in the class isn't foolish about the footage. Meanwhile, no need of Marinette roasting Chloé about the video. Instead of that, she tempers her evaluation towards Chloé's fake documentary:

Marinette: I'm just imagining how would the real Ladybug and Cat Noir react to the video. Cat Noir might laugh. But Ladybug: It's difficult to say. Chloé (sarcastic, bit of pissed off): Thanks for your ridiculous support, Dupain-Cheng.

In this AU, Alix just says:

"She had superpowers for like one day. In the beginning, she worked well but thereafter she went totally outta control !"

Pissed off by her classmates critizing her, Chloé goes to the Mairie de Paris alongside with her mom for ordering demanding that Mayor André Bourgeois (Chloé's daddy) to close down the Françoise Dupont school. But Daddy disapproves. So both Mother and Daughter threat him they leave Paris letting him alone.

Hawkmoth takes benefit of the situation for akumatizating André into Malediktator.

The events of the story are happening like this in this AU:

When Chloé expresses to the entire school since the helicopter she goes to live to New York, everyone is happy. They celebrate that in a party.

Everyone except Adrien and Sabrina. The two latters aren't satisfied. Their childhood friend is leaving Paris with anger and sadness.

Marinette initially didn't know how to react to see Chloé's departure (in reason of her other friends Alya, Alix, Rose, Juleka and Mylène: Chloé the "semi-bully" didn't really matter for these girls) but with Adrien's speech, she feels sad about the blondie girl's departure (despite the latter's behavior of spoiled brat and bad girl, this girl was her friend and her former "love interest").

Malediktator immobilizes the Audrey's helicopter and uses his enslavement magic power for turning his awful wife into a devoted wife by using his enslavement magic power. Chloé flees the scene for taking a hide.

Malediktator attacks the school and brainwashes everyone for destroy the place here. Only Marinette and Adrien escape. And Ladybug and Cat Noir appear.

Cat Noir is enslaved and he acte like a real cat.

Marinette come to see Master Fu for help. She chooses the Bee miraculous. Master Fu has doubts about giving the honey comb to "her". Marinette reassures the old man and she goes to find "her".

Ladybug finds Chloé who is gone to hide from Malediktator. She asks to Chloé what happened for Daddy getting akumatized. The conversation:

"It has begun with my dumbasses of classmates. They don't respect me. They don't want to admit I am a superhero And I'm sure Marinette is betraying me."

Ladybug feels a bit of offended about Chloé blaming their class. Meanwhile, she reasons her:

Ladybug: I am Ladybug. You can trust me (remember Queen Wasp ↑) . You can tell me the truth. Chloé: It— it was me. I hurt my daddy's feelings. Because I want to leave Paris, forever. Ladybug: But... Why ? Because of what happened in school ? I'm sure Marinette probably didn't exactly mean what she said and I can't imagine she wouldn't want to be friends with you anymore for one second. Do you think the same thing about me ? About Adrien ? Chloé: Oh, it's not just Marinette even if I have still interest on her. Adrien is not really interested on me. The answer is I have no reason to be here: nobody likes me. I have no friends. Other kids of my school and I haven't common. They don't act like me. I'm… useless. Ladybug: A friend once told me: nobody is useless, Chloé. And another learned me: Each person has one form of power. With that power, each person has the potential of accomplish many things for the loved ones' sake. This power is: The choice. Chloé: It's easy for you to say that. You're Ladybug, a superhero. You serve the purpose. I love you so much but I think like you about power. I don't totally see what form of power you have except to fight monsters and Hawkmoth. During the next times after your entrance, I have thoughts about you ruling the entire Paris. With my dad as mayor, I have the power but something sounds wrong with that. Can your power fix up this problem ? Ladybug: Your power ? That depends of YOUR choice. And Yes, I can fix up all the messes. You said it yourself in your documentary. Chloé: You saw it ?! I'm so embarrassed. That film's ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. I realize that now. These noobies must be surely right. I have disappointed them in addition of Marinette, Sabrina, Alya and Adrien. Ladybug: Don't worry Chloé. You can fix your own messes, if that's what you want. You, too, can serve a purpose, but you have to want to. The choice is yours. Chloé: I do want to.

And Ladybug gives the Bee miraculous to Chloé who becomes Queen Bee again.

The two superheroins confront Malediktator and defeat him in the same way as in canon. Thanks to a useful Cat-ified Cat Noir.

In the aftermath, Chloé helps his butler (she calls him "Armand" for the opportunity !).

Marinette later requests Chloé to come to the school. We reveal to the latter a surprise party celebrating Queen Bee. The line of the party is: No need of power when we need choice.

Marinette, Adrien and Alya (in addition of Sabrina) congratulate Chloé for her actions as Queen Bee and for supporting Ladybug and Cat Noir in their purpose. When Chloé expresses doubts to Dupain-Cheng about their relationship. The latter says that:

Are you calling me a traitor. You aren't disappointing, nor useless, nor ridiculous. Not utterly ridiculous. We'll still friends, Chloé. Adrien too.

In this AU, during the party, Marinette temporary leaves the school for returning back as Ladybug. During her entrance, she publicly confesses to Chloé she is prideful of her. That makes Chloé happy.

And when Marinette comes back, Chloé holds a speech what she calls the bakery girl as exceptional. She talks to every classmate from her class:

"Each of you have one power in you: The choice. And you have the pow... the choice of not to be ridiculous. Not utterly ridiculous."

Her speech inspires respect from the entire school.

Marinette/Ladybug is sure: Chloé has a good side and she is the most exceptional person Marinette knew ever (but not more than Alya, Adrien and Cat Noir).

Reverser:

Same story as in canon. But in this AU, Chloé treats Sabrina much less as a slave than in canon.

That doesn't prevent Marc/Reverser to use his/their Reversion power on the two girls.

Ladybug and Cat Noir (helped by Alix and Nathaniel) manage to deakumatize Marc.

Nathaniel and Marc reconcile together and produce their comic book together. They are a couple too now.

Heroes' Day:

This is the most important two-parter arc I like.

It's Heroes' Day in Paris and everyone must prepare a good action for others.

At the school, Marinette hastly promises a thing she can't in fact accomplish. Chloé announces to offers her autograph to anyone who wants one.

In this AU, Chloé promises (in bonus of autograph) to offer one Queen Bee's badge to anyone who wants too.

Gabriel and Nathalie execute their evil plan to drive Parisians down in despaire.

Hawkmoth akumatizes Cerise Lila into Volpina who is hateful toward Ladybug.

The trap works. Hawkmoth later akumatizes Nathalie (her assistant and accomplice) into Catalyst. She boosts the butterfly villain's powers (turning him into Scarlet Moth).

The mass akumatization happens. Ladybug sees Master Fu for choose the Miraculouses she must give to the chosen holders. She eventually takes the Fox, Turtle and Bee Miraculouses.

Ladybug finds Alya and Nino. So Rena Rouge and Carapace can join the battle.

Cat Noir is the one who gives the Bee miraculous to Chloé. In this AU, when Chloé expresses her disappointing about see another ridiculous hero instead of Ladybug, Cat Noir could say to the blondie girl:

"If Ladybug sent her "second fiddle" to do the job, it's for your safety. You should trust me like you trust Ladybug. In addition, she already trust you."

The famous "what's the magic word" scene even happens and Queen Bee joins the squad.

The battle happens. Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee are scarletakumatized.

Of course, the non akumatized Parisians help thé two remained heroes during the battle.

When Ladybug and Cat Noir manage to come to the Eiffel Tower. They escape to the Volpina's trap ans destroy the Catalyst's akumatized object (that cancels all the scarletakumatizations).

In this AU, when the five heroes were reunited again in the previously mentioned place and encircled Hawkmoth, Queen Bee briefly sees Lila flying.

But she has no time to warm the team because a Butterfly monster/SentiButterfly suddenly appears for protecting Hawkmoth. Nathalie had pulled the broken Peacock miraculous out of the locker (Mayura has begun to entrance).

After Hawkmoth's escape, the five heroes realize the two lost miraculouses are in both supervillains' hands.

Queen Bee warms Ladybug to have seen Lila. the concerned superliar girl has already disappeared too.

Lila is returned at home (the Rossi appartment. Not the Plage from the Catacombs). During her run, she has just used one of her disguises or she had just stored her Lila Rossi disguise (fake eye lenses and wig included) in a bag.

After the battle, the Miraclass eventually organizes the pic at the Place des Vosges (that frees Marinette from a burden).

In this AU, Chloé doesn't treats Sabrina as a slave nor a servant. She takes the time to eat her lunch alongside with the latter, Alya, Nino, Marinette and Adrien.

Adrien receives a phone message calling him to attend a charity event. Before leaving the place, he tells Marinette that she is a nice girl. He even calls her: The everyday Ladybug and Super-Marinette. 🐞 The bakery girl blushes.

Like in canon, Marinette kisses Adrien on the cheek and thanks him. 💋

In this AU, Chloé us thé next to talk to Marinette. She congratulates Marinette for the good atmosphere that she brings toward other people and for the "power" she's supposed to have.

Marinette thanks Chloé in return by calling her: The everyday Queen Bee. 🐝

The latter blushes and she answer to the bluenette:

"I'll remember that, Dupain-Cheng. I am the one who thank you."

Chloé kisses Marinette on the cheek. 💋 The bakery girl blushes and feels happy.

And firework in the background ! 🎆🎇✨

End of Season 2. To be continued in Season 3.

Chloenette AU prologue:

Chloenette AU Season 1

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous rewrite #miraculous fanart #chloenette au #marinette dupain cheng #chloé bourgeois #chloenette #chlonette #queenbug #ladybee #queenlady #beebug #ladybug #queen bee #my art

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kame-writes · 5 days

Note

Concerning the media overlords au:

First of all: I love it! Thank you for sharing the idea with us <33

Second: Does Alastor live in the tower with the other Vees? And does Alastor still move into the hotel? If yes, on a scale of one to absolutely how sad/pissed/jealous is Vox after receiving this info?

3. I'd like to imagine Velvette's fingers are constantly itching to get ahold of that handsome deer man, who doesn't know how to dress himself properly or trendy, and give his wardrobe an upgrade. Could you imagine this happening? (Maybe with lots of alcohol involved. So that he would at least temporarily let her experiment with his clothes. Bonus points if she is able to take picture too. Vox would obviously make himself some copies for.. private reasons...) Do you see my vision?? Can you see it??

4. Can Vox convince Alastor to do more audio features within their network? Like podcasts or interviews and the like? Or are they just screams as well? (I recently discovered a podcast about cooking, where each week they talk about one ingredient and explain a recipe with it. I think this would fit Alastor's preferences very well.. tho the ingredients might not be as commonly used now that I think about it... anyhow... now I can't stop thinking about Hannibal and Alastor hosting a food podcast.. oops.. sorry, but not really)

5. You mentioned that Husk still works in his casino, if he isn't needed. Do you have any headcanons for Niffty's whereabouts?

Anyway that's all for now! Have a lovely day/night! <33

p.s. Sorry if this ask is intrusive. For some questions it's pretty clear that I've already imagined something for myself that may or may not fit with your vision of this au. If you feel like I overstepped, feel free to ignore this or send me an alastor_fuck_u. gif :D

Im am very happy to have questions asked! You have no idea how many ideas i have and dont know what to do with xD

I'd love to see other peoples headcanons and ideas for this universe, if anyone does anything for it then please tag me so i can see ^^

This is gonna get long so I've put it under a read more

2: No one is really sure if he lives there or just works there. He HAS his own suite in the tower, but he's not always there when they go look for him, and not being able to find him is very a common occurrence, made more frustrating because he refuses to carry or awnser the mobile phone they forced on him. He hangs around in the common areas like the kitchen and living room sometimes. And if they do manage to rope him into something like a movie night its a huge hassle, because he will insist on a black and white or silent film if he HAS to engage with the tv, and Vel and Val hate those.

The whole top of the Tower is dominated by his large Radio tower though, its slightly seperated from the rest of the building, suspended above it with a staircase/ladder to enter the hatch. Valentino is usually not brave enough to check there for Alastor.

Its the same with the hotel. He does move into his own room there, but goes back and forth a lot, and doesnt have a schedule. Vox tires to pretend hes fine with it at first but often ends up the hotel to be a pain in the ass to Charlie, and getting kicked out by the staff of Alastor. Hes convinced himself that Alastor will lose interest sooner rather than later, and the others just tune out his whining at this point. No one buys it when he claims he didnt even notice Alastor was gone as soon as the Radio Demon gets back to the tower.

3: I may be planning to draw this haha He does let her dress him up ocassionally, he has a few differant suits he's approved of and kept, but does wear his original the most the time. Velvette has a line of 'Vintage chic' clothing that partly started as a way to get Alastor to agree to changing his 'ratty ass old man style' by appealing to clothes that were updated takes on his era. He still very rarely leaves the tower in anything but his own usual attire.

He does on rare occasions allow photos to be taken of him by the vees (and once, later on by charlie, under strict instructions that she keeps it to herself) but no video. And none under any circumstances are allowed on social media. He has blown up a few phones that have attempted, both the Vees and employees.

4: Alastor has agreed to be on a podcast a few times, but its rare, and only if its somehting hes really interested in talking about. It's one of the few modern things he approves of since its just a version of a radio talk show. Same with interviews, he keeps them even more extremly rare, and the mystery of the radio Demon keeps sinners in fear more than him being in the public. Vox always wants him to do more since the ratings sky rocket when Alastor features.

When Alastor has done an interview it is with his back to the camera, and sitting in a large wingbacked stupidly over the top ornate chair, that hides him from being seen, except maybe the top tuffs of his ears and antlers. And he doesnt reveal much about himself when he does. The chair is partly to hide him, and partly to stop the equitment form glitching too much. He likes to pulls faces and makes gestures deliberatly made to make Vox falter and look stupid on camera, since hes the only one who can see him in that chair.

He has teased on his own radio show that one 'lucky' sinner may get the chance to be on both a guest star on his radio broadcast AND a livestream if the mood takes. Valentino had to inform him that what he's referring to is called a snuff film

5: Niffty gets moved to the hotel pretty much full time once Alastor gets involved, Husk is a part time employee, but ends up spending less time at his casino as time goes on.

Valentino is happy Niffty is gone because she creeps him out, she ocassionally hung around his studio during work hours, especially if theyre doing a scene with 'bad boys'. Vox isn't bothered. Velvette is not happy, especially that Niffty is reduced to a maid/janitor for the hotel, and makes that very known to Alastor. Velvette loves Niffty, they are chaos sisters and work on very sketchy sounding potions together, and gang up against the boys.

Niffty is also a great seamstress herself and brings her designs to Velvette like an excited child showing off their latest art project. Almost none of these get used, but Vel has fun forcing models to parade around the studio and work in something Nifftys made, they often include bugs and bodyparts, Velvette finds this halarious.

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these-written-reveries · 1 year

Text

Just You and Me

‣ Pairing: Arthur Fleck x GN!Reader

‣ Summary: You show up at Arthur’s door, struggling and in desperate need of him and his love. Don’t worry, Arthur will take good care of you.

‣ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

‣ Warnings: Emotional breakdown, heavy feelings (no specifics mentioned)

‣ Word Count: 1,363

‣ A/N: This fic is dedicated to @ajokeformur-ray and anyone else who is struggling and in need of a bit of Arthur lovin’. Allow yourself to be present in this moment, just you and him. Forget about the rest of the world. You can let it all go, at least for now. I hope you can find a little solace in this piece. ♡

Song of Inspiration: “Don’t Worry” by The 1975

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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There you stood, tired and dejected, in front of apartment 8J.

You had found yourself face-to-face with this door so many times that it was practically routine at this point. Whether it be to visit Arthur during the day, or in the evening to watch Murray, to check up on him, share leftovers, or to meet up for your weekly dates. Many times, you came to give Arthur his mail that was frequently placed into your mailbox by mistake. You lived just across from Arthur, and it had become apparent that the mail person didn’t care to actually look at the proper apartment numbers when placing mail in your boxes. You didn’t mind, in fact, you looked forward to such mistakes as it always gave you yet another reason to see your lover’s sweet face again. Who could complain about that?

This time, though, was different.

You had no mail to deliver, no leftovers, no smile, or warm greeting. You could barely muster the strength to bring your trembling hand up to knock on the old paint-chipped door. You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was to burden Arthur with more heaviness and pain. If Arthur was in your head, he would be ever so quick to shut those thoughts down. You knew this, but it didn’t stop the feelings burrowed deep within your chest; the same ones that almost stopped your hand from knocking upon the steel wall separating you from him. Your heart so ached for him. You needed him.

Three feeble knocks nearly went unnoticed by Arthur’s ears. It was late and he was immersed in his own mind, a pen in his hand as he wrote down a joke he had been mentally crafting all day onto the scribbled notebook page before him. Despite this, he still managed to be pulled from his focus enough to realize someone was at the door. The thought of it being you instantly sent his heart into an eager frenzy, his body moving out of his chair and towards the door without him even commanding it to.

He always looked forward to little visits from you. Opening the door to reveal your beautiful face and warm smile was the highlight of all his days. The two of you had a running game in which you’d show up at each other’s places with the most random of reasons as to why -all of which were highly important and definitely not just excuses to see one another.

But this time was different.

The moment Arthur opened the door, he sensed the grave importance of the situation, and so quickly did his smile disappear; the eager fluttering of his heart mutating into a throbbing pain at the sight in front of him. Your hunched shoulders, head hung low, hands trembling at your sides, hair covering your face. He didn’t need to know what your face looked like to know exactly what was going on. He knew, but oh god, did it still crush his soul to pieces when you finally did bring your teary eyes up to meet his. Despite his best efforts to say anything, do anything, he was frozen. All he could do was stare with a face overflowing with concern for his love.

It was your weary, somber voice that finally kicked him into action.

“Can I come in?” You quavered, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. He could see so clearly. You needed him.

Arthur nodded quickly, stepping aside, and pulling the door open wider so you could enter. You looked so fragile, he felt scared to even touch you in fear of breaking you as he led you to the couch for you both to sit, hastily moving the blanket and TV remote to make room for you. Only when you were settled, did he allow himself to sit beside you.

He wanted so badly to wrap you up in his arms and shower you with loving words and kisses, but he found himself holding back from doing so. This was a delicate matter and the last thing he wanted was to make the wrong move. Instead, he chose to be ever so careful with each touch and word that he offered you, allowing you to guide the situation as to what you needed from him. Whatever it was, he would give it to you, without question. Anything to soothe the pain and suffering you were experiencing.

Gently embracing one of your shaking hands in both of his own, he glanced up at you, trying to meet your eyes, though they remained focused on your lap.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You can tell me,” he spoke tenderly and right away you felt the last bit of composure you had left completely collapse to dust.

Soon you were a mess of sobs and tears and between them, your words came spilling out, albeit a little hard to understand, but Arthur did his very best to listen intently to every one of them. Not once did he utter a single word himself, only nodded and gave your hand a little squeeze here and there. At one point, he placed a hand on your back and began rubbing soothing circles into it.

If it hadn’t been for the constant flow of tears blinding your vision, you would have noticed his face contort as different emotions filled his being. Jaw clenched, forehead wrinkled with tension, lips drawn down into a frown, tears pricking his eyes. At times, his tightly knitted brows would raise with concern in response to something you said. Other times, a spark of anger flashed in his eyes. He couldn’t help but find himself indignant at the circumstances that led you to this much suffering and he held an even greater resentment against anyone who hurt you. Whatever was so heavy on your soul filled Arthur with the most intense desire to strip it all away and take on the weight of it himself. And he would, in a heartbeat.

There was a brief moment of silence after you finished speaking as Arthur tried to collect his words. Finally, he let out a sigh, and shifted himself so that he was directly in front of you, knelt upon the green rug on the floor. Looking deeply into your eyes, he gently wiped a few stray tears from your face before speaking.

“I’m so sorry, honey. You know…it’s okay to feel that way. I think anyone would in your situation. If I could take it all away and make it better, I really would, baby.”

Holding your right hand in his left, he once again reached up to wipe your tears away, his right hand cradling your face as his thumb softly caressed your cheek. You let out a shaky breath as you relaxed into his touch. Arthur felt a small smile tug at his lips.

“I can’t make it all go away, but I can take care of you. Will you let me take care of you, please?”

He looked up at you with warm, loving eyes as he brought your right hand to his lips, placing the softest kiss atop it. You nodded your head, feeling a new wave of tears prick your eyes as your heart burst with love for the man who was literally on his knees for you, practically begging to take care of you, to make you feel better, to love you.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he cooed, his arms reaching out to you.

Arthur didn’t waste any more time as he wrapped you up tightly in his arms. You melted into his peaceful embrace, allowing him to move you both into a more comfortable position on the couch, where he finally indulged in showering you with kisses and loving whispers. He traced his fingers up and down your arms and spine; occasionally caressing your hair and face and banishing any tears that escaped your eyes with his lips.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you. Just you and me, baby,” he murmured into your ear before pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

And for the first time since you’d knocked on the door of apartment 8J, you didn’t.

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‣If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

‣ If you’d like to join the tag list for Arthur Fleck/P!Joker, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x Y/N #arthur fleck fanfiction #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck angst #arthur fleck imagine #joker x reader #joker x Y/N #p!joker #phoenix!joker #kalistawrites

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yanderes-galore · 8 months

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I couldn’t decide on whom to request, but I’ll send the other one in very soon.

Platonic! Yandere! Russell Adler with Missing! Daughter who was missing ever since she was eight and turns out his archenemy, Perseus, took her in as his very own daughter and raised her to be one of his best soldiers. 18-year-old darling is just wondering why this scarred man is hellbent on getting her back, and occasionally had to ask him who the hell he is whenever they meet up, which is honestly very heartbreaking for him.

I sense the angst already... sure! Utilizing wiki info since I have not played the game itself, I watched videos (It won't work with me for whatever reason).

Yandere! Platonic! Russell Adler with Missing! Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Angst, Possible mentions of real life events, Kidnapping, Brainwashing, Violence, Manipulation, Dubious companionship, Attempts at murder mention/Past murder mentioned, Blood.

I feel it's only more traumatic that he lost you when you were eight.

I do feel Russell Adler would be a good father to his daughter.

No one even knows the man has a family, or anything of his background really.

Your existence is a mystery to everyone but him.

Adler probably took care of you sometime before 1981 (Needs to be 18 years before Cold War's events), where he thinks Perseus is dead.

I'm a bit rusty on times where events take place but Adler takes care of you around when he's taken a position in the CIA.

You're a secret to most people and he loves you.

Maybe he adopted you or had you with a women no one knows before taking care of you alone.

Adler thought no one would learn of your existence since he never talked about his past.

Yet somehow tragedy still manages to strike.

Adler is a man who can go from charismatic to cold in an instant when talking with others.

It's hard to tell how he's feeling at times.

Yet I can just imagine the distraught desperation within him when he finds his home ransacked, his daughter gone in the chaos.

Adler is no doubt a changed man for ten years.

He may have been more laid back when he had you to look forward to.

But now he's dedicating his life work to finding you.

Although... is there anything he can find?

Meanwhile when Adler is left a broken man, Perseus had his men take you in.

Perseus becomes your father for the next ten years.

He may even brainwash you a bit to think you've always had him as your father.

You don't recall a man named Russell Adler, let alone think of him as your father.

Far as you know Perseus saved you and took you in as his own.

The next ten years are dedicated to training for you.

Perseus isn't the most affectionate man as a father but you never complain.

You're trained to be a soldier, a killing machine for his own personal use.

By the time you're 18 it's finished.

You're the perfect soldier while Adler still tries to find his long lost daughter.

Adler is a smart man so by the time of Cold War's events, or even before it, he suspects Perseus is the one behind your disappearance.

Imagine the pain coming back to Adler when he sees you for the first time in a decade.

He can tell you're his daughter but you've changed so much.

Your attire is decked out in Perseus insignia and it's clear in your eyes you don't recognize Adler.

Adler knows his next mission is to take you back, he even plans on disguising it as taking you as a hostage for interrogation.

No one suspects you're Adler's daughter but they do question why he's so insistent on targeting you.

It does indeed hurt Adler whenever he faces you only to hear you ask him who he is.

Any attempts to make you see him as your father again is pushed away.

You call him delusional and then proceed to try and kill him.

(If I'm being honest, this whole dynamic reminds me an awful lot of Splinter, Karai, and Shredder's story from TMNT. It's off topic but it would be exactly like that.)

Adler doesn't like the idea of hurting you but tries to tell himself it's for your own good.

Eventually Adler is going to snap and order the plan of kidnapping you.

To him it's more like reclaiming but... it's just to make him feel better.

Adler is careful of not letting his team know your origins unless he trusts them.

Once he has you in CIA custody, Adler does anything and everything he can to convince you that he's your father, not Perseus.

I can imagine that if you're biologically related he'd do a DNA test to prove things.

That would screw with your mind... but it wouldn't work if you were adopted.

Reversing your thinking is difficult because Perseus didn't necessarily use brainwashing on you.

He influenced you by taking you when you were young.

There's a slim chance Adler can get you back normally due to your age.

It's slim though.

The most likely option Adler would have to do to make you his daughter is brainwashing of his own.

He hates the idea of it but you may be unfixable in your current state.

By this point his crew is going to find out your connections with Adler.

Adler comes off hostile when they say you're now the enemy.

He wants there to be a chance.

You never deserved to be a soldier, especially one for Perseus.

Adler is definitely making it a goal to fill Perseus with lead when he finds him with Bell.

Perseus will choke on his own blood when Adler is done with him....

Don't worry, he'll fix his beloved daughter...

You won't have to kill anymore, you can just go back to how things were... how things are supposed to be...

Your real father will fix everything.

#yandere call of duty #yandere russell adler #yandere call of duty cold war #platonic yandere

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juuuulez · 7 months

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📰 | part seven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, father figure Negan my love, enemies to lovers/slow burn, kinda angst but not emotionally yet, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, um this got kinda dark, also long.

summary: Once again, you are tasked with babysitting Carl, this time leaving Alexandria to find supplies. An unsuspecting attacker causes a rift in your feud.

eesh this is intense but also very succulent to write i LOVE LOVE LOVE some action!

also thank you all for 150+ followers!!! pls continue to send ideas to my inbox i’m absolutely eating it up <3

You’re really starting to get sick of this heat.

It’s sweltering, sticking your clothes to your skin, sweat patches running down your back and dampening the white tank you usually wear.

In favour of not being bitten, you wore the typical black jeans, which are doing absolutely nothing to combat against the unbearable heat.

Unfortunately enough, there isn’t any air conditioning in the Sanctuary, so you’d agreed to return once more to Alexandria with your father.

It had been a few days since your last impromptu visit, a week, actually. Though you’d previously been frazzled, irritated, you took the time to cool off and work through some pretty ugly emotions back at home.

Now, it was down to business, which meant giving strict orders to Saviours on where to check, what to take. Making sure everybody wrote things down, followed their routine.

“Woah, woah, woah! What do we have here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Negan’s voice, who is standing at the gates, leaning against an old, beaten down car with the engine on. As you approach, the familiar outline of a sheriff’s hat comes into view through the rear window, and you almost want to turn away and forget you even saw anything.

“Now, I sure as shit hope you weren’t planning on leaving unsupervised.” Negan jousts at the teenage boy, still leaning against the passenger side.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is leading, and you shoot your father a tired little glare. “Can’t Dwight do it? Or, I dunno, anyone but me?” You plead, not exactly in the mood to be in a confined space with Carl once more.

For all you knew, he might swerve off the road to try and kill you.

Negan doesn’t let this slide, “Nope! You’re an excellent babysitter, doll. Best girl for the job.”

You bite your tongue against any sort of protest, still having not revealed the true extent of your last encounter with Carl. It would only cause unnecessary stress, you deducted.

At the beginning of this whole apocalypse, Negan had been cagey about letting you do just about anything. It only took a one bad incident to turn on his protective mode, and you felt like maintaining your freedom for a little longer.

“Fine.” You sigh, but instead of climbing into the passenger side, you skirt to the other end of the car. “Out, now. Leave the keys.”

Carl glares at you with an open mouth, clearly displeased about not only having his trip hijacked, but now being ordered around. “I can drive.”

“Don’t care. I’m not gonna risk you goin’ AWOL.” You tell him, unfortunately deadly serious, much to the boys’ dismay.

With an angry scoff, Carl departs from the drivers side, instead getting into the passenger chair. You sit down, leaning over to adjust the seat in order to ensure your feet would reach the peddles.

With Negan gone, having departed to keep a keen eye on the Saviours, you reach into your belt and pull a small handgun from the holster. This catches Carl’s attention, as he’s never seen you carry a gun before.

You hand it to him.

“One bullet,” You instruct, tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s emergencies only. You’re lucky I don’t just let you die out there.”

He accepts it wordlessly, not wanting to push that very thin boundary.

The sweltering heat is worse in the car, harsh metal keeping the thick air inside, and you doubt it had any working cooling system.

Luckily, this proved to be less of a problem as you begin driving, the air whipping past your faces and offering a slight relief.

Carl gave you directions, but after the third instruction, you were beginning to get a little fed up.

“Why don’t you draw me a map?” You suggest, one hand on the wheel while the other brazenly fishes around in your back pocket, managing to pull out a small notepad. “Then I don’t need to listen to your voice.”

“What, like you can read?” Carl comments, a snide remark that contrasts the fact that he does take the notepad, flicking through pages in order to find an empty one.

His eyes are drawn to the little graphite sketches that adorn the pages, his thumb tempted to swipe the paper back and have a peek, but he resists.

A few moments later, and Carl hands the notepad back to you, which you hold in front of the wheel in order to get a good look. Your brows furrow, finger tapping against a strange looking blob.

“What’s this?”

Carl leans closer, brows pinched as he looks at the drawing. “A tree.” He says, as if it were obvious, despite the artwork being significantly less than professional.

“Okay?” You take your eyes off the road, giving the boy a confused, critical gaze. This only feeds into his temper, where Carl suddenly takes the notepad from your hands, drawing a few more scribbled lines on the so-called ‘leaves’ of his tree.

“So you know where to turn,” He specifies, like this would solve all of your problems, “At the end of the road. There’s a tree.”

You struggle to find your words for a moment, unsure how the simple action of drawing a map has just made this more confusing. “There are trees everywhere, dumbass. That isn’t helpful.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s a big tree,” Carl scoffs, throwing the notepad back onto the dash, opened so you can see it. “This wouldn’t be happening if you just let me drive.”

“Oh! Okay,” You turn to him, “I would have let you drive, had you not tried to shoot me. So, fairs fair, asshole. This is your fault.”

“I said I was sorry!” Carl retorts loudly, uncaring of how you’re no longer looking at the road, or about how fast the car is travelling.

You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t count. Murders don’t get let off scot-free just because they said two puny words.”

“That’s barely comparable!” He continues to push the conversation, all that pent up anger and frustration towards your adamancy against him starting to bubble up. “It’s not my fault that you’re, like, deranged or something.”

That was it.

You slam your foot on the breaks, sending the car skidding a few dangerous meters ahead. In that time, you brace yourself against the steering wheel, but Carl jolts uncomfortably against the seatbelt.

“What the fuck—”

“Get out.”

He looks at you like you’re actually insane, trying to decipher whether or not you’re being serious. But you only stare at him, glaring actually, jaw clenched in irritation.

“Get out!” You tell once more, needing Carl to get the message that you simply can’t be around him anymore. Not with all the arguing and bickering, it was getting on your last nerve, and you just needed some space to breathe.

With a huff, Carl obeys, but not without slamming the door shut. You run a hand raggedly through your hair, starting the car up once more and placing your foot on the accelerator.

“Fuck you!” Carl yells as you drive off, giving you the finger in hopes that you’ll see it in the rear view mirror. You probably didn’t, but it makes him feel a little better anyway, like he got the final word in.

But as the car disappears against the horizon, he’s left there, on the dusty road in that horrible summer heat. Sweat already sits on his nape, making his shirt uncomfortably sticky, and now he’s tasked with walking the rest of the way.

All because of your tantrum.

With the advantage, you make it to the abandoned gas station in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from where you’d ditched Carl, so you knew that he would be fine walking. You weren’t that cruel.

It’s relatively run-down, and you can only spot a few walkers mingling near the store’s back end. You keep your bat held tight, stalking through broken glass and tipped shelves to find anything of use. Whilst you don’t know what Carl had in mind for this trip, you could make a few assumptions, and managed to collect a small pile of minimal medical equipment, snacks, and even some baby food.

It was peaceful, actually.

Maybe a little too peaceful.

Slinging the bag of supplies over your shoulder, you approached the car once more, intending to drive the way back and pick Carl up along the way. He shouldn’t be too far off, at this point. You lean over, starting the ignition and popping the boot open, letting the supplies rest there.

But as you circle around, something catches your eye. A shiny glint on the ground. You poke it with your boot, only to realise that it appears to be a small razor blade.

Dread floods your system, and as you bend down to inspect the peculiar object, it hits you.

The tires, each one of them, have gone flat. Air completely let out, slashed. Unusable.

No escape.

You clench your jaw, rising to your feet once more, the metal bat still in hand. Someone was here. With what intentions, you didn’t know, but you could assume it wasn’t good.

Cautiously, you take a few steps backwards, towards the gas station. You watch the open space ahead of you, eyes steady on the treeline, inspecting for the most minute of movements that could betray the whereabouts of this potential attacker.

Except it doesn’t come from behind.

One steady thunk and your head is colliding with the concrete wall, to which the shock causes you to drop the baseball bat, one hand clasping the wall and the other digging your nails into the wrist of your attacker.

A firm hand has collected your hair, gripping onto your ponytail, fingers pressed into your scalp. You fight and squirm, but the body of a much larger man presses behind you.

With your stuff in the car, you can only imagine what he might want.

Despite this, you don’t scream, teeth clenched as you struggle to evade his grip. A harsh stomp to his foot assists your escape, where you’re able to land one solid punch square to the man’s jaw, before his leg swipes your balance out, sending you crashing to the concrete.

You almost twist onto your stomach, but the attacker is too quick, once again fisting your ponytail and slamming your face into the ground. One, two, three and you finally stop struggling as vigorously, blood and mucous caked all over your face, mixing in with chipped cement and dirt from the floor.

But the baseball bat is so, so close.

There’s one hand still in your hair, another on your back. Now waist, then stomach. Gross, burly fingers circling the button of your jeans.

A singular moment of weakness is all you need, where he’ll let his guard down, and you can leap for the bat.

Unfortunately, you know what form this weakness comes in.

You’re panting like a wild animal, trying not to squirm, carefully calculating your next move until suddenly there’s a loud pop then whistle that whirs past your ears, the sound almost making you flinch, before the weight of your attacker slumps against your body.

Crimson blood drips down onto your shoulder, coating your neck and back, the cold shock helping you regain enough consciousnesses to shuck the dead body from your smaller frame, scurrying out from underneath him.

The pavement is searing hot against your palms, you can even feel the burn through the thick material of your jeans. As you sit up on your haunches, looking around, you spot him.

Carl, crouched behind a few bushes, tentatively lowering the handgun.

One bullet.

As he begins to approach, you wipe some of the blood onto your arm, smearing the disgusting gunk further around your skin, which is still persistently dripping from your nose and mouth.

Gravel has surely made its way into the open wounds, but you do nothing about it. Not now, at least.

Carl approaches you slowly, putting the handgun back into his holster, and that genuine look of concern on his face makes you feel sick.

When he gets close enough, arms reach, you bristle and firmly shove him away, sending him stumbling a few steps backwards.

“The fuck did I say?!” You yell at him, directing all your rage and anger towards the corpse lying at your feet, back at Carl. “Emergencies only. What happens now, huh? I don’t have another bullet!”

He looks completely shell shocked by your outburst, not having accounted for such a reaction. But it doesn’t matter, as you’re still shouting, even as he stands there dumbly and watches.

“I had that under control!” You grunt, once again wiping at you nose, which runs with a mix of snot and blood.

When you garner no reaction from Carl, this frustration only continues to fester. You lean down to the ground, swiping up the baseball bat and clenching it hard in your palms.

You approach the body once more, and with one hefty swing, completely obliterate the man’s skull. Later, you would claim this was being proactive against potential walkers, but in the moment in was nothing more than revenge.

When you’ve entirely crushed the skull, you move on to the neck, spine, arms, torso. Anything. There comes a point where you’re no longer hitting to destroy any evidence of what happened, but hitting simply to feel some semblance of control. Blood spurts onto your jeans, some even reaching your tank, a darker colour that contrasts with the bright red of your own.

“Hey, hey. Cool it.” Carl is saying from behind you, and when you show no acknowledgment of his words, he reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, but otherwise drop the bat, letting it clang harshly against the concrete, rolling a few feet away and leaving a gorey trail.

At this point, you try to clear your head, take stock of the situation. The tires are slashed, deeming the car useless. It was beginning to enter late afternoon, and though the days were hot, the nights were freezing. Not only that, but all this shouting has likely attracted whatever walkers you’d hoped to leave unsuspecting.

Finally, you spare a glance back at Carl, who’s been watching you this whole time. It looks like he’s on edge, waiting, ready for whatever you’re about to do, however irrational. A few specks of blood have made its way onto the sleeves of his flannel, where you realise how close Carl has been standing to you, even during the little outburst.

“Fine,” You mumble, answering his unspoken question. “No point heading back. Best push the car into some shade, camp out there for the night.”

Carl takes this as permission to contribute, though he still speaks to you with a level of cation. Mentally, you accept this as fear, but you know very well it’s actually concern. “I know the area pretty well. There’s a cabin not too far off, it was clean last time I checked.”

It’s reasonable, even if the idea of following Carl into the woods makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You’d rather not, especially now that he’d used the sole bullet, which you had none of on hand.

You chew on your busted bottom lip, nodding, accepting this makeshift plan. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh, almost sounding defeated, but nonetheless you pick the bat off the ground and stride back away from the gas station, not bothering to consult Carl any longer.

This was going to be a long night.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #negan smith x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x you #negan smith #the walking dead

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