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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

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Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this.

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue:

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

#ml fic #ml crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Lila sucks #lila redemption #helluva boss

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theliterarywolf · 2 years

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Sam anon again. Many actual voodoo practitioners are happy that the tattoos were removed because they were inaccurate and apparently if you're not from the religion you shouldn't use them, but this still sounds dishonest from Disney to me because the multi-billion dollar company chose to erase a part of specific black culture instead of hiring people to redesign it, which they easily could have. Respect? My ass, to me it screams EW BLACK RELIGION TOO COMPLICATED AND FUSSY TO PORTRAY FUCKING ERASE IT ALL TO MAKE IT MORE PALATABLE TO US AUDIENCES. And I'd like to see if they'll do the same thing with the future Christian references.

Anonymous asked:

Sam's bones were removed because it's considered offensive when those tattoos are done by none-practitioners, so it was to BE respectful. I think Sam being changed is nontroversy

Anonymous asked:

Why didn't Disney I don't fucking know HIRE A CONSULTANT WHO ACTUALLY PRACTICES VOODOO TO REDESIGN THE TATTOOS RATHER THAN JUST REMOVING THEM

Here are the reasons why this whole thing bothers me.

1. Disney originally approved this game in the first place. Yana Toboso may be the creator but Disney had to approve the use of their aesthetics and IPs. So they obviously had to see and sign-off on all of the character designs since this is using aesthetics and motifs from their IPs.

Why didn't they say 'Hey, can you change this?' before?

2. Why didn't the western fanbase try to make this complaint known to Disney/Yana Toboso beforehand? I swear, western fans of things will go out of their way to try an harass an anime studio over Yasahime for 'you're condoning pedophilia, reeee', but actual matters like this just results in 'I'm sorry, I don't know how to use contact information all of a sudden'.

3. Following that last point, it reeks of fans gladly letting a problem fester so they'll have something to complain about rather than making their concerns known in a calm, rational way. I am, once again, reminded of how a section of this hellsite went after Himaruya Hidekazu when in a chapter of Hetalia, he wrote about Emperor Heliogabalus of Rome -- 'The Roman Emperor Who "Lived Life as a Woman" (Though He Was Really a Guy)' -- and rather than contact him to say 'whoa, my buddy, my friend, this is kind of transphobic' (and Himaruya had an open-blog for letters and fanmail that he took in both English and Japanese at the time so they had no excuse), they just sat around and whinged.

4. Disney, you can go above and beyond to make sure that your IPs based on other cultures are accurate and respectful while still being present, but when it comes to anything black or African it's just better to erase anything problematic rather than re-examining and re-approaching? Alright, cool. That's cool.

5. Why is it okay for so much of media to use gaudy sprinklings of Christian and Hindu iconography without research or respect but this is a big no-no and it has to be removed for 'respect' reasons?

6. Are the tattoos not still there in the Japanese version of the game so what is the point?

At the end of the day, they can do whatever they want because, of course, this is Disney and they don't want any controversy and they want to make sure that people will watch the TWST anime they're going to make for Disney+. But I personally think that the whole this is a none-issue that got turned into an issue and the handling of it reads like

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irondad-creator-awards · 3 years

Text

The Nominations So Far (Kinda)

Some of you have been asking to see who’s nominated in which category, so I’m putting up what I’ve done so far. This is by no means everyone nominated, as we’ve had 96 submissions to the form, and I’m not going to be able to log them all until nominations close. But if you’ve been contacted to say you’re up for an award, you should be listed below...

Good Luck to everyone nominated x

1. THE ONE THAT MADE YOU GASP! — A story which had a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Something that caught you so off guard that you had to stop a minute and take a breath before devouring the rest. What’s the story for you?

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Like Father, Like Son by An_Odd_Idea

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

More Peril In Thine Eye by Iron_Spider

No Longer In Service by Starryknight09

Proof Of Concept by Flurrbee

Serenity by Jolinarjackson

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Stab Me In The Back (I'll Catch You From Behind) by Lansfics7

Stop, Look, Listen by Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror

2. THE MULTI-CHAPTER YOU COULDN’T PUT DOWN — A story which kept you up all night or calling in sick for work so you were free to read. Who’s the culprit?

A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

A Sailor Went To Sea by by Yellowdistress

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

And You’ll Blow Us All Away by Losingmymindtonight

Astronomy In Reverse by Pansley

Come My Darling, Homeward Bound by Iamirondad

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth by Da_Moose

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

I Will Carry You (Always) by Thestarvingwriter

Identity Crisis by Kitcat992

If They All Knew About You by Mshermia

In Unlikely Places by Looneylizzie

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Mr. Parker Declined To Commentby Apisdn

Pain Will Always Come Back To Haunt You by Kevy_Grayce

Permanence by Theexhaustedalchemist

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

Proof Spiderman Loves Clickbait by Mauvera

The Lost And Forgotten by Lizcraz

3. THE ONE-SHOT THAT THAT HAD YOU HOOKED — Some writers can cram more greatness into less words than a 100k monster. What’s the one-shot that did it for you?

5 Times Peter Sleepwalked And The 1 Time He Pretended He Did by Losingmymindtonight

Countless Ways To Say I Love You by Hopeless_Hope

Familiar Faces by Happyaspie

First Wednesday Of March by The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by Aloneintherain

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

I Will Soften Every Edge by Losingmymindtonight

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Something Here Will Eventually Have To Explode by Madasthesea

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

4. THE BEST THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES — A drabble (under 1k) can pack in all the goodness that you need in a coffee break read. What’s that story for you?

Butter Me Up by Iron_Spider

Cuddle Bug by Marvelous_Writer

Food At Home by Aimaim94

Insomniacs In The Dark by Littlemissagrifina

Irondad Cuddles by Lilacsoulw

Let The Mind Games Begin by Ironmum

5. THE BIODAD THAT TOUCHED YOUR HEART — Some of the greatest stories flip canon and make Tony Peter’s biological father. Be it baby Peter taking his first steps or Tony dealing with the fact his son is following in his superhero footsteps as Spider-Man, which is the one you loved most of all?

An Abstract Concept by Iron-Spider

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Built From Scraps by Peter Stank

Happy Hogan Never Forgets A Face by Jen27ny

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

My Little Bambino by Maicaly

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Slow Down, Start Again From The Beginning by Cassiecasyl

Sound Logic by Aytheria

Spiderson by Emily_F6

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Yellowdistress.

The Less Than Secret Life by Yellowdistress

The Ties That Bind Us by Winterturtle

They Say Boys Don't Cry (But Your Dad Has Shed A Lot Of Tears) by Tempestaurora

What’s In A Name? by Geekymoviemom

6. THE ONE WITH THE FIELD TRIP — The field trip trope is one of the most popular in the fandom. What’s the story that you think pulls all the elements together to make it great?

A Different Take by Cyberwolfwrites

Constant Internal [Spider] Screaming: Semi-Connected Scenes From A Graduating Senior’s Life by Isadancurtisproduction

Field Trip by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Field Trip Flip by Happyaspie

I Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore by Bees_And_Wasps

Mr Stark Enough For You? (Another Field Trip Fic Bcs We Dont Have Enough) by Livinei

Neon Liar (Hiding In Plain Sight) by Isadancurtisproduction

No Reason To Go by Pokegeek151

Tower Of Donuts And Doubts by Platinumdollz

Who Is He? by Velarisstars

7. THE TIME AFTER TIME ONE — There’s some great time travel stories out there, but which is your favorite?

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

I Have Time by Peterparkr

The End Is Just A New Beginning by Tytach

The Time Traveler’s Mentor by Iamirondad

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight09

8. THE ONE WITH ALL THE OWIES — Another massively popular Irondad trope is hurt/comfort, and there’s some amazing stuff out there. Which is the one that you love most of all?

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

Be Weak by Fluencca

But What Is Grief? by Odd_1

Danger Pizza by Alice_In_Ink

Darkness Will Be Rewritten by Marveal

Dude, Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? by First_Page

Follow The North Star Home by Fallingforbees

Foolish, Fragile Spine by Plnkblue

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Sometimes It’s Easier To Just Swim Down by Mjscorner

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

We All Chase After A Few Dying Stars by Losingmymindtonight

What I Have, I Give To You by Aatticsaltt

When My Body Won't Hold Me Anymore (Where Will I Go) by Madasthesea

Your Heart Changed (Mine Stayed The Same) by Loisselina (Loisselina)

9. THE ONE THAT HURTS SO GOOD — We all like a bit of angst sometimes, so what’s the story that you wanted to hide from but you had to keep reading to get to the happy ending?

Built From Scraps by Peterstank

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me by Itsreallylaterightnow And Killerqueenwrites

I Need You To Be Free by Marveal

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

If You Listen You Can Hear The Ibis by Yellowedistress

Let's Get On With Living (While We Can) by Almond_Blossoms

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by Embarrassing_Myself

More Peril In Thine Eye by Iron_Spider

Of Flying And Falling by Polaroid15

Sunlight by Ardenskyeholmes221

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

When Trauma Comes Knocking by Kevy_Grayce

10. THE ONE THAT SOOTHES THE PAIN — What’s the story that you go to when you need a pick-me-up after the angst?

5 Times A Spider-Baby Got Dad Smooched by Buckets_Of_Stars

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

5 Times Tony Stark Protected Penny Parker by Emily_F6

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Bitch Better Have My Money by Neicy286

Career Day: A Short Story by Shewritesall

Early Childhood Education by Thedisneyoutsider

Five Times Peter And Tony Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

I Can Hold The Weight Of The Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

Instant Kill Mode by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Kids These Days by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

The Road So Far by Nicolemoon8

No More Lonely by Shewritesall

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

That's How You And I Will by Frostysunflowers

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight90

11. THE ONE WITHOUT A HOME TO GO TO — There’s some wonderful homeless Peter stories out there, so which is the one you were blown away by?

A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

After The Landslide by Freyaatterton

Distracted by A Dime by Happyaspie

I Told You I Had Issues by Bergen

Is It Too Much To Ask For Home That Lasts? Ft. Peter Parker by Wakandaforever2357

The Little Things (That I Miss) by Da_Moose

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

Unexpected (Everything I Never Knew I Wanted) by Moonchild2593

12. THE ONE THAT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD — There’s lots of imaginative AUs in Irondad fic. Whether it’s Steve and Tony as baseball players or Pepper being Peter’s mom, which one is your number one?

A Guardian Among Us by Superherotiger

A Soul's Best Friend by Superherotiger

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Have Patience, A Quick Wit, And A Gentle Heart by Ironfamjam

I Battle My Jerk Step-Dad by Andromath

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Sea Spider by Bean_Reads_Fanfic

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Though Everything Is A Miracle by Overtures

Until It Disappeared From Me by Ashleyparker2815

When I Am On Your Shoulders by Ladyblackwater

You Mispronounced Spider by Lliblo

13. THE TWEAKING THE SETTINGS ONE — There’s things we all wish we could change in canon — *cough* Endgame *cough* — so which canon divergence does it for you?

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Bittersweet by Kevy_Grayce

Built From Scraps by Peterstank

I Will Restore All That Was Broken by Killerqueenwrites

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by Embarrassing_Myself

Moulded Minds by Wingswithstrings

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

The End Of Infinity by Friendlyneighborhoodfangirls

The Returned by Nicolemoon8

What Was Missing Was You by Happyaspie

What Were The Words I Meant To Say Before You Left by Madasthesea

14. THE ONE YOU GO BACK TO AGAIN AND AGAIN — Some fics deserve a re-read or ten. What’s the story you go find yourself going back to?

A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood by Ambivalentangst

A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

Age Regression Was Impossible... Right? by Chvotic

Am I Just A Shadow You Drew by Ironxprince

Apartment 43B by Ironfamjam

Back To Bed by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Family Is More Than Blood (It Is Light) by Moonchild2593

Keeping Company by Whumphoarder And Xxx_Cat_Xxx

Moulded Minds by Wingswithoutstrings

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

Sins Of The Fathers by Geekymoviemom

The Darkest Hour Is Just Before The Dawn by Starryknight09

The Lost And Forgotten by Litcraz

The One Where Peter Is Bucky’s Weakness by Jinxquickfoot

The Rise And Fall Of A Spider by Spidersoning

The Spider-Man Conspiracy by Tempestaurora

15. THE SERIES THAT SWEPT YOU AWAY — Some of us love to go on a long ride with a series, so which is the world of multiple stories that you binged or waited anxiously for each update?

Another June Day by Skeeter_110

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Home by Glwilliams97

I Love You More Than Anything (Bio Dad Au) by Iron_Spider

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Lights To Guide You Home by Jolinarjackson

Mr. Stark & His Kid by Writerstrash

Once Upon An Adoption by Kevy_Grayce

Out Of Darkness by Starryknight09

Soul Stone Realm by Marvelmusicmystery

The Room Saga by Iamirondad

Tony Stark Is A Good Mentor by Happyaspie

Was That A Star Wars Reference, Dr. Stark? by Jen27ny

We Forgot Peter by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Webcams And Webshooters by Losingmymindtonight

16. THE IN-PROGRESS ADVENTURE — What’s the story that has you checking your email each day, hoping for an update?

A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

A Perfect Storm by Grilledcheesing

Ain't My Blood; Still My Boys by Parkrstark

All The Stars Align by Ashleyparker2815

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Found Family by Thedisneyoutsider

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

If You're Going Through Hell, Keep On Going by Baloobird

Mr. Stark, Something Is Wrong by @Simping-For-Peggy

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Peter’s New Step-Brother by Bowtiez

Priorities by Jlmonroe1234

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Sleeping Through A Rogue Winter Storm by Pogokitten

Survivors Guilt by Ember_Darla And Marvel_Cinematic_Universe_Fan

Tech Of Nondestructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer by Ironmum

The Hero Of Our Own Story by Kingdomfaraway

The Many Adventures Of Iron Dad And Spider Son by Lbigreyhound13

What You Were Then I Am Today by Madasthesea

You Are My Sunshine by Iamconstantine

17. THE COMPLETE FIC THAT YOU CHERISH — Whether or not you’ve got the patience for an in-progress or not, there’s a wealth of complete stories you can devour at leisure or all in one coffee-fuelled binge. What’s yours?

Intern Spider by Emily_F6

Only For A Little While by Eccentric_Artist_221b

The Guardian by Emily_F6

18. THE ONE THAT GAVE YOU ALL THE LOVE — We all love Irondad, but some stories come with bonus bonds that give us just as much. Do you have a Peter & Bucky, or a Peter & Steve working alongside which delivers all the found family goodness?

"I Have A Nephew!" by Zimnokurw

5 Times Happy Hogan Nearly Had A Heart Attack Because Of Peter Parker by Thespydersargon

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Brighten Up, Sunshine by Iron_Spider

It Must Be Nice (To Have Mrs. Potts On Your Side by Sdottkrames

It Takes A Village (To Make Sure You're Okay) by Baloobird

Kingdom Come Undone by Killerqueenwrites

Project: Get Bucky Barnes A Dog by Ruxian

Road Work Ahead by Toniwilder

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

When In The Dark by Kevy_Grayce

19. THE PROLIFIC WRITER AWARD — Irondad has some amazingly prolific writers. Which are the ones you’ve subscribed to get at that fic-wonder goodness of 10 works or more?

Aimaim94

Buckets_Of_Stars

Emily_F6

HAPPYASPIE

Inkinmyheartsandonthepage

Ironmum

Iron-Spider

Jen27ny

Littlemissagrafina

Madasthesea

Magicalyss

Mshermia

O0CITRUSEE0O

Parkrstark

Superherotiger

20. THE NEWBIE — New writers are joining the fandom all the time. Who’s the newbie (posting for 12 months or less) that’s delivering the good stuff for you?

107thinfantry

Fallingforbees

Ironmum

Jinx_Frost

Just_Ppeachy

Kittybellestark

Lilacsoulw

Maicaly

Polaroid15

Spagbol99

Sunflowerspideyy

21. THE OG — Who’s the writer that’s been around for a while (12 months or more) that keeps you captivated?

Ashleyparker2815

Emily_F6

Happyaspie

Iron_Spider

Jen27ny

Kevy_Grayce

Parkrstark

Snarkymuch

Spooderboyandtincan

22. THE WILD CARD STORY — The story that does (or doesn’t) fit into the above categories but you believe deserves the prize. Which one is that for you?

Aliens Really Are Out To Get You Aren't They? by Some_Sort_Of_Trash

Born To Cherish by Ironfamjam

Everyday Superhero by Stoneage_Woman

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Guess I’m Not Good Enough by Freyaatterton

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Will Soften Every Edge by losingmymindtonight

I’m Not Telling Him. Period by Scooter3scooter

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Kids Suck, But You're Great by Gymlily06

Long Gone | Marvel Au Strangerlyparker

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Tech Of Non-Destructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Reinvention Of Tony Stark by Losingmymindtonight

This Ride Is A Wild One by Just_Ppeachy

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

ART 1 — DIGITAL MEDIA - Who has those PhotoShop skills, who makes the best mood boards? We have some wonderful artists in the Irondad fandom, and we’re here to celebrate them. Who's your favorite artist?

@Itsybitsyspiderling (Tumblr)

@monireh (Tumblr)

@Blackchessknight (Tumblr)

ART 2 — SKETCHES — Who has the skills with the original medium of art in sketches? Whose pencil can create the characters we love best?

@broskev (Tumblr)

@Dakt37 (Tumblr)

@monireh89 (Tumblr)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

ART 3 — CARTOONS — Chibis, Manga, Anime, who can create the very best?

@Maryo274 (Tumblr)

yes-i-am-happyaspie (Tumblr)

ART 4 — FANVID — Some of the greatest creators are the ones that match the music to the mood, find the perfect scenes to make us laugh and cry. Who does that for you?

All My Life || Tony & Peter (Father/Son Au) by Akapotatogirl (YouTube)

Emsxworld (YouTube)

Tony Stark & Peter Parker | Ashes by Mythicalroyalty (YouTube)

ART 5 — BEST IRON FAMILY FANART — Who can create those feeling of Ironfam with their art? Who captures the characters we love in that iconic family.

@broskev (Tumblr)

@moonestaly (Tumblr)

eccentric_artist_221b (AO3)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

#Irondad Creator Awards #irondad #spider son #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider-man #peter parker #tony stark #art #fanart #creators #fandom awards #artists #writers #writing #fanfic

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priortoallthoughts · 3 years

Text

Listen Real Closely Ch. 1

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Delta x afab!OC (eventually)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, English is not Basic

Summary: Delta squad was tasked with destroying the anti-aircraft bunker during the first battle of Geonosis. Mission parameters change slightly when they find a woman and have to get her out alive so they can discover why she was there in the first place. They can do it, but what will it mean for them in the long run?

(This is hopefully going to be a multi-chapter fic, with this first one being from Delta’s pov. Subsequent chapters are (mostly?) going to be from my OC’s pov. I have scraps of a plot. Please let me know what you think 🥺)

[Next]

Masterlist

Delta squad was prepared for bugs, droids, slicing, and dicing.

“Just a few seconds more,” Sev said. “Door’s unlocked.”

What they weren’t prepared for was the screaming woman they saw wrestling with a bug when the door finally slid open. Before Boss could get a shot off she swung her legs up over its shoulders, pinned its arms with her knees, and thrust her hips up. There was a sickening, thrilling crunch as the bug’s elbows broke and it flew off her, screeching.

“What the fek is a human doing in here?” Fixer asked, watching as the woman scrambled on top of the wounded bug and punched it until her fist and whatever sharp ring she was wearing were dripping with blue bug juice. “Is she one of the Jedi?”

There wasn’t time to answer, not that Boss had one to give, because a second later a burning gunship flew by the windows and the resulting shockwave shattered the glass.

The woman shouted again and ducked away, but Boss couldn’t be bothered with her then. “Looks like we gotta shut these windows too. Let’s hit it Deltas, slice those terminals.”

“More bugs!”

Half a dozen of the slimy chakaars swarmed through the window before they closed completely, but Boss and Sev made quick work of them. There was a grunt and when Boss turned the woman was hacking away at the last bug with its own force pike.

“She’s got a good fight or flight reflex at least,” Scorch joked as he and Fixer stepped away from the terminals.

“She’s trembling like a cadet.” Sev wasn’t impressed by this development.

Delta was finally able to get a good look at her, torn clothes, tear streaked face and all. She shouted something and clutched the pike tighter to her.

Boss frowned. “Does anyone recognize that language?” He didn’t like not knowing things, especially when this woman might affect the mission. She didn’t look or act how the Jedi were described to them, but then again he’d never met one before.

“Negative, three-eight. Our HUDs don’t translate it either.” Trust Fixer to already have their gear’s translation program running. Too bad it couldn’t help them with this.

Scorch piped up with his two credits. “Well she’s gotta know basic right? Hey, girl!” He addressed the woman outside of their private comm line with a wave, turning her attention to him. “Do you work for the seppies?”

After spending their whole lives reading micro expressions in each other, the woman’s furrowed brow and frown was all Delta needed to see to know that she didn’t understand a word they said either. That and she spoke again in that strange language, gaze flickering between their buckets and eyeing Sev’s blaster warily as it was unrelentingly trained on her the whole time.

“Advisor, we may have a problem.”

::What is it, three-eight? Location shows you haven’t moved in a while::

“There’s a woman in here who doesn’t speak or understand basic. We believe she’s unlikely to be a Jedi as well.”

::Repeat Delta. You said there’s something other than droids and Geonosians in the bunker with you?::

“Affirmative. She was fighting with the bugs when we found her.”

::Copy. Stay on target for now, I’ll see what intel I can gather about whoever is with you. You need to disable that turret sooner rather than later, commandos::

“Copy that, Advisor. Delta out.”

“Great, so we have a civvie tag along now.” Sev growled. “She’ll be dead before Advisor gets back to us.”

“Keep an eye on her regardless,” Boss ordered, though he was about as enthused as Sev was at the idea. “She may still have information that’ll be of use to us.” She was a walking liability for more than one reason, and he didn’t need her dragging his squad down and putting them in more danger than they already were. He would personally put a blaster bolt through her skull if she turned out to be a spy.

She had been sniffling but otherwise quiet, watching as Delta talked with her none the wiser.

The doors to the room slid open again behind them. B-1s filed through, and neither they nor Delta wasted any time in opening fire. The woman jumped at the sudden movement and ran over to where Delta was, staying behind them while they continued to fire, taking out the four droids with ease. She muttered something to herself, voice high and panicky.

“Form up, Delta,” Boss said through comms, and proceeded up the ramp to the next level. If the woman couldn’t keep up then that was her problem. She wasn’t part of his mission.

“It’s still kicking.” The damn loading mechanism didn’t blow completely the first time. “I think we need to hit this thing again.”

There were more droids on the bottom level firing up at them now. Sev did a quick survey of the machine before turning his blaster below. “There’s the spot. Let’s set our charges and do some damage.”

“Four-Oh, readying explosive.”

“Hey girl,” they all heard Scorch address the woman again, even though it was clear she didn’t understand them. “You should make yourself useful.” He all but shoved his DC-15 pistol into her hand. “Ya know, just a little.”

She looked at him from the corner of the walkway like he had just grown another head, and Scorch didn’t need to see under the rest of his vod’s buckets to know they looked the same. At least she knew how to hold the blaster.

“Charge almost ready, sir,” Fixer chimed in, too focused on his work to voice his opinion on Scorch’s actions.

“Are you insane!” Sev yelled at him instead, not that Scorch was surprised. They both went back to laying covering fire for Fixer, though neither could be bothered to stop their bickering.

“You’re the insane one, Sev. It’s more blasters aimed at the clankers anyway. And even if she shoots at us, it’s not like it’ll hurt, and we’ll have an answer as to what side she’s on.” And maybe, just maybe, she had struck a chord in whatever heart he had left after sarge’s training. After all, she looked exactly like he felt during his first live-fire exercise when he was four.

“Charged is armed, sir,” Fixer announced and stepped back.

“Can it and take cover, Deltas.”

Fixer had somehow ended up the closest to the girl, who was still clutching the pike and now Scorch’s blaster, so he yanked her behind him just in time for Boss to blow the loading mechanism again. He’d wait for Advisor’s orders before allowing her to be killed, just in case.

::Good job, three-eight. Now find an exit and make your way to the core ship::

More blaster fire whizzed through the smoke.

The woman turned and pulled the trigger on reflex, but all the shots went wide. Fixer had half a mind to take the shablathing from her if she was going to be that bad with it. Cadets had better aim than her. Boss took care of the cluster of droids with a sonic detonator easily enough once the smoke cleared, but there was still blaster fire coming from the ramp.

“Any news on the woman with us, Advisor?” Fixer asked.

Fierfek, more SBDs at the bottom.

::The only intel of a woman being on Geonosis before the assault is about Senator Amidala of Naboo being captured in the droid factory:: Just great. They had nothing. ::General Camas has been informed and wants this one brought in. Keep her alive if you can::

“Copy. Delta out.”

Orders were orders then. He could try and shift her off to six-two so he wasn’t on civvie-watch at least. Six-two was… personable enough. She stayed by his side for now, shooting around the corner as he and the rest of Delta moved like a well-oiled machine to take down the SBDs. A machine that now had an extra piece that served no purpose. She did manage to hit the droids, but they were twice as large as B1s and there were two of them, so statistically she had a higher chance of doing so anyway.

Boss halted them when all was destroyed and done, and the woman seemed to know enough to stop too. “Get some bacta, Delta,” he ordered.

They took turns at the dispenser. “Nothing like a little bacta,” Sev said when he stepped away last. He had been the most injured of them this round. Boss grabbed the woman and held her in front of the dispenser, keeping her still when she flinched at the spray. The look of wonder on her face as she glanced down at her body had him thinking again. Why was she surprised? Bacta has been around for thousands of years, surely she knew what it looked like?

They all moved on to the next room, sweeping it clean of bugs while Fixer sliced the terminal.

“Finally some peace and quiet,” Scorch said jovially, as the last one fell. They had peace and quiet until Sev finished with slicing the next door.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

Which wasn’t long, as it turned out.

Boss stepped close enough for the door to slide open, threw a detonator in, and stepped back so the door closed. There was a muffled explosion. When the door opened again there was nothing there except piles of scrap. Traveling down the hall, they were met with another SBD at the bottom of the ramp. These droids didn’t know anything about tactical advantages, clearly, otherwise they wouldn’t be stationed where Delta could always have the high ground.

Their fault. At least Delta could finally get out of this fekking bunker.

::Three-eight, now that you’ve disabled the anti-air turret, we’re making a supply drop near your current position. Keep an eye out for it. Payload includes a special anti-armor attachment for your DC-17. You’re going to need it::

“Yes! More explosives!” If Scorch had any less discipline he would literally be jumping for joy right now. “You just made my day, Advisor.”

The bugs were on them as soon as they stepped out into the heat of the surface. It didn’t bother Delta, of course, since their armor regulated their body temperature and their visors dimmed the sun, but the woman looked like she would rather be anywhere else. To be fair, they would also rather be anywhere else.

They moved through a narrow canyon, the woman of following dutifully behind Boss and Scorch, and in front of Fixer and Sev. Exactly where they meant her to be, now that their mission included actively keeping her alive, though it was unlikely she noticed the intent.

“Look sir, here comes the supply drop now.” A gunship flew low in front of them, carrying the payload that Delta needed to complete their mission.

Sev was too preoccupied with the huge fekking domed structure he could already see to be bothered by the gunship, though. “Look at the size of that thing.” That, and the droids on the ledge across the drop, which he took great pleasure in offlining permanently.

“There’s the core ship, sir.”

“Are you sure, fourty? Maybe there’s another one around the corner.”

Bugs flew across and surrounded the squad, and Sev had to begrudgingly accept that the woman wasn’t completely useless in taking care of them before they moved on. Scorch might have made a good call, but he would never say that out loud. At least she wasn’t screaming anymore, though he hazarded a guess that the strange words still coming from her mouth were curses. He had a lot of experience in that department because of Scorch. Fek, now he wanted to curse him out. Next time he opened his big mouth, then. It wouldn’t be too long.

“Sir, this gunship turret is still functional. We could use it against those droids.”

Fixer mounted the sphere and made good use of it taking out the squads of droids that were coming up the hill. It turned them to slag in an instant. Not to mention with the range the laser had, it took care of the next stretch of canyon so they traversed it easily.

“Now we’ve made them mad. Good,” Sev grunted.

They came up on the downed gunship in the DZ with the anti-armor attachments not a moment too soon, because there were no less than four SBDs guarding the entrance to the core ship.

“Oh this is nice, Boss. A very nice piece of ordinance here.” Scorch was giddy at the prospect of using this baby.

Boss was not as outwardly happy about it, but after the first SBD turned to scrap in one shot he was feeling about the same as Scorch. Which was almost a scary thought. In the second of lull after his first shot he grabbed the woman and shoved her behind a rock, signing in the most obvious, non-regulation way he could think for her to stay there. It would be too dangerous for her to partake is this part of the battle with nothing but Scorch’s sidearm blaster.

She all but collapsed against the stone, chest heaving, her whole body trembling. She gave him a weak thumb’s up, coughing and wincing as she did, so she understood what he was trying to say.

He left her there and joined up with the rest of Delta as they took control of the entrance. It was going well until they went inside to take care of the last of the droids.

“This door is shielded, sir,” Fixer said after examining the inner cavern. “Looks like we’ll have to go around.”

Sev was less than enthused at the prospect of going around when they were this close already. “Damn droids! Let us through!” He slammed his fist against the wall.

There was no helping it though. They couldn’t get through that ray shield. Boss signaled for them to retreat, and they followed him back to where he had left the woman. There were two more scrapped clankers near the boulder than when he left her, and as they rounded it they were met with a blaster aimed at them - at him, since he was in front.

Good. She wasn’t stupid.

She was also sitting on the ground now, and he assumed she had eventually collapsed based on how she looked before. She lowered the blaster when she saw it was Delta and shakily got to her feet, leaning against the rock for support, though she looked like she was about to keel over again. She gave a heavy sigh and nodded her head in resignation.

“Debris blocking our path here, Boss,” Scorch said from where he wandered across the battlefield. “We need to detonate the rocks to get through.” He paused. “And I’m not just saying that because I love to blow stuff up.”

“Yes you are,” Sev scoffed.

Boss signaled Scorch to set a charge, and had to motion for the woman to get behind him. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he detonated it.

Scorch cackled. “That blew up real good!”

The good mood didn’t last. Blaster fire came through the falling debris almost immediately and they had to duck to the side to avoid the initial barrage. Well, Delta ducked, Boss dragged their tag along who tripped over her feet after him at the sudden movement.

They breached the area, anti-armor attachments still equipped, and started firing as soon as they had a clear line of sight. The clankers were spread out so Delta did too, and the woman stuck close to Boss this time. It was going well until-

“There’s a spider droid! Look out!” Sev yelled out in warning.

::Deltas, pay attention!:: Advisor’s voice came over their comms. ::You may only have one shot at this! You’re looking at a dwarf spider droid, one of the Commerce Guild’s nastiest anti-infantry units. It’s durasteel plating is rated for starship hulls, and is nearly invulnerable to small arms fire. Only it’s optical cluster, the red orb on its abdomen, is unshielded and vulnerable::

Just fekking perfect! Exactly what they needed to deal with now.

Scorch seemed none-plussed at the development, but it was his insistent joking that gave away his nerves sometimes. “In other words, shoot the big red spot!”

Boss hated everything about this mission. “Focus on the optical cluster, Delta! We need to set up an anti-armor position now!”

They flanked the thing as much as they could, each of them setting up by a rock for cover. Boss and the woman were behind the biggest boulder in the middle of the field - she was crouched while Boss stood over her. It was the most reasonable position they could manage since it protected her more. Though she looked more panicked than before, glancing between the DC-15 and the spider droid, face scrunching in defeat. They both knew it was useless against it.

She started to fire in the general direction of the durasteel monstrosity anyway. Of course, there was no way for her to know where to aim at on the thing, and no way for him to communicate it either. It wouldn’t make a difference whether she fired or not, so he didn’t bother to stop her. Not like that blaster ran out of ammo.

It was longer than any of them would have liked before the spider droid lost the last of its durasteel plating protecting the optical cluster. Then it was just a matter of raining all nine Corellian hells down on it.

“Back to the scrap heap, clanker,” Sev growled when it finally blew, mechanics whining as they were shut down the hard way. Or the fun way, as he liked to call it.

“I sure hope we don’t encounter many more of those.”

They looked around the carnage of the battlefield, spotting two different points of entry to the core ship. One was through the same door the spider droid had come out of, but like the last time, it had another shielded door at the end of the cavern. They backtracked to the other door, but there was just one problem.

Boss sighed and opened comms to Advisor again. “We’ve reached the entrance to the core ship, but it appears to be shielded.”

::Affirmative, Delta, hold position. We’re bringing in some air support now:: Advisor answered.

A few seconds later a new voice came over their frequency. “Delta squad, this is gunship wing Delta four-two, we’re closing in on your position now. Stand back from the entryway.”

“You’re late to the party, Pilot!”

“You should be happy I got here at all. It’s a nightmare out there,” four-two argued back, taking none of Sev’s osik. “We’ve got a visual on the target area, initiating firing run now. You boys are gonna want to stand back!”

The gunship in question circled around their position to hover in front of the entryway.

“Take cover!!!”

The woman let out a short burst of words before turning away and slapping her hands over her ears. She didn’t know what was said, but she got the picture. The resulting explosion was muffled thanks to Delta’s buckets, but she didn’t have that luxury. She groaned as soon as the rumbling stopped and shook her head.

“Shield destroyed! Thanks for the assist, four-two.”

“Glad to be of service, Delta.”

::Now get into that core ship and secure those launch codes::

The next stretch of the mission was right in front of them.

~~~

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honestsycrets · 3 years

Text

What She Really Wants X: What Really Matters

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk has a way of getting what he wants. magnus is sick of being one-upped.

❛ tags | verbal arguments, wedding oriented, referenced underage sex, referenced sexual interaction, underage relationships, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | i've actually had this fic done for some months and totally forgot about it until i was in my drive. thank you @chibisgotovalhalla for making me feel good enough to post this. It’s more a connecting chapter.

What Magnus hates about Hvitserk (aside from everything) is how whatever he said, went with you.

The world could crumble, pebbles could shake boulders on your house, and you would still have Hvitserk on your mind. Because he was your first-- and no one could beat a first. No matter how he worked or raged for a new beginning or for better for Mads. It was still Hvitserk at the end of the day. Mads’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull when Magnus joined the clustered group of friends and parents. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What did I miss?” he asks because he knows Mads by the expression slapped over his face. That boy has been like his son. He raised him. Loved him.

“Nothing,” Mads quips quickly, snapping his head back around to the field. His coach howls something long and loud. Mads jabs his finger in that direction. “The game is about to start. C’mon Soren.”

Despite the fact that Magnus knew there was a certain something very wrong, he didn’t speak as you returned to a very familiar set of bleachers alongside Mad’s new girlfriend. She was pretty. There was a soft and innocent glitter behind those big brown eyes that reminds him of a simpler time in yours. He makes a note to ask Mads after the game all about her when Hvitserk stops on the uppermost stair, guiding you in after Alaia.

It’s not until they sit, and your hand is laced in Hvitserk’s, does he notice the gems glistening on your finger.

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning over Alaia’s lap. The girl squints at the rings too, watching it glisten, and smiles when she realizes that she’s forgotten to say something. She speak words that make his stomach drop. As if someone had hauled him off to sea, strapped that very same boulder shook loose by his crumbling world, and threw him out into the deep sea. He was drowning and couldn’t find a way out.

“Oh my god! Congratulations on your engagement, mama,” she beams. “Can I see the ring?”

Magnus sputters. He’s caught between your jovial smile and Hvitserk’s smug smirk as his eyes burned into the glittering gem. Hvitserk’s hand leaves yours, taking a drink of the metal tumbler that he brought with him as if that would draw attention away from what he’s done this time.

“There’s two?” Alaia asks.”Papa you didn’t. You’ve gone so far!”

Hviserk chuckles and swashing alcohol between his cheeks before swallowing the spicy liquid.

“We were engaged in high school. Hvitserk thought I should wear both.”

“Gonna put that money to use,” Hvitserk mutters, the faint scent of yeasty alcohol on his breath kissing your cheeks. He looks out to the field and catches Mads sheepishly waving. He waves back. “Been waitin’ to get married to my old lady for years.”

“It’s going to be so great,” she claps her hands together. “I’m happy for you.”

The field cheers through the end of the national anthem. Two dozen players jog onto the grassy stage, flicking the ball between their feet. Go Mads, go! Alaia squeals until her voice becomes high pitched, grating, and odd. She’s the kind of girl that should be on a cheerleading team, but belongs on the football team. She’s outgoing, witty, and you find you like her.

For all that screaming, Mads’s team loses 2 to 1. Alaia beats you off the bleachers and zooms down the stairs to find your son. You’re stuck with the impending explosion that has been boiling to ahead all evening. It finally overflows as people filter out of the bleachers like a herd of stampeding cattle. Their loud chatter blocks out the bulk of conversation.

“You really thought that was a good idea.” Magnus curls his fingers under the cold metal of the bleacher seat. “He hasn’t been back a year and you’re already going to marry him.”

“What is with you? It is her choice,” Hvitserk interjects.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Fuck off, rat faced motherfucker.” Hvitserk snaps. “You don’t know when to quit bitchin’.”

It’s spiraling. You know the men well enough to know when Magnus and Hvitserk are headed for trouble. Hvitserk loves a good fight. He lurches up in his seat, probably ready to chuck him down a few flights of bleacher stairs. You grasp Hvitserk’s hand, settling it on your thigh for to restrain him from doing something that you knew he’d regret. Not for his sake, but Mads. Rather than answer Magnus, you stand up and wipe your skirt down.

“Mads is waiting. C’mon baby.”

You leave him feeling unheard. In the seventeen years that Mads had been alive, he’d not once felt this way. He had been the father figure here. The one who took the kid out to these father events that you lost with the death of your father and the disappearance of your family from Hvitserk’s clutches.

Then he came back. He gave Magnus that same, age-old shit-eating grin, and disappeared behind you. It wouldn’t have burned so much if he wasn’t at the exact same school of the past. The same one where he got his teeth knocked in-- right here. The bleachers may be different but the area is the same. It’s the same place where everything changed. He sits there long after you’ve disappeared down the steps to meet your son.

“Where’s morbror?” Mads, sweaty and panting, has his hand slung over Alaia’s shoulder.”I thought he was coming for burgers.”

You reach for Hvitserk’s hand and lace his fingers with yours. Hvitserk stands behind you with his hand latched neatly around your waist. He cradles your hip as you come up with the latest of poorly formulated excuses.

“He has to go to work in the morning, baby.”

Better you lie than Hvitserk.

Alaia is way too touchy.

You recognize it in the way she clings to his arm on one hand and punches him with the other. Whatever the cost was, she had to be touching him. All over him. Not just a little friendly kiss or holding hands, but you know for a damn fact that she strokes his thigh or trails up the taut pale muscles of his flat belly.

“They’re fucking,” you say pointedly.

Hvitserk throws a look over his shoulder to where they were a few rows down. Alaia slips a salty-sweet strawberry candy between Mads’s lips. Alaia’s other hand is certainly not on her own lap, that’s for sure.

“Huh?” Hvit says around a half eaten sausage. He takes a swig of his booze, “Ya think?”

You thwack him in the arm and glance at the dark aisle beside you. The movie Mads wanted to watch was old. So much so that the theatre reflected its age. “How is he not fucking her? Hvitserk!”

Hvitserk took a glance down. From what he could tell, Mads was the shy one. He glanced down to what had to be a handsy— because he had plenty of those in his day.

“Calm down. He ain’t initiating anything.”

“So she’s a predator?” You hiss.

“C’mon baby, they're the same age.” He says, as if that’s exclusionary, and as if that made any difference in the world. “Ain’t like he’s screamin’ for help.”

There’s a shush— the next few aisles down.

“Aw, you poutin?”

No reply. Hvitserk glances toward Mads and Alaia, content with his choice, and slips his hand underneath the lip of your skirt. He considers himself a rather patient man but your worries when all he wanted to do was relax? Na.

“Hvit stop— We used to be like that. Remember?” Hvitserk cuts you off, rubbing his thumb where he shouldn’t, cutting an outrageous smile.

“This isn’t about us.”

“Ain’t it?”

It’s not. The soft tingles of his fingertips, caressing your thighs, runs shivers up your spine. Your hand falls on top of his wrist, holding him firmly where he was. Hvitserk glances down toward his hand, then back up. An easy fix: you loved it when he pressed his lips to your neck.

“You’re doing it again.”

Hvitserk’s lips part, broadening his shit eating smile. “Doing what?”

Oh, he knew what. But he loved being called out for it.

His far isn’t bad at football.

“Fuckin’ what the fuck was that!”

The ball whizzed into the goal behind him and Mads was left wheezing for breath. Not because he was tired. The old man might only be thirty-six but he sucked at playing against him. Hvitserk plucked up the football between his fingers and spun it over and over between his finger tips. He twisted his head from the goal to the ball in his hands.

“A goal,” Mads gestures. “You know? Or, guess you don’t since you ain’t scored all night.”

“Shits rigged,” Hvitserk says, dropping the ball and kicking it back to Mads.

Mads shrugs and suggests, “Should’ve picked something you’re good at. You won’t beat me at this.”

“Tch,” Hvitserk throws his arms behind his head. “I ain’ good at shit.”

Except maybe selling drugs and chasing prostitutes. All of which his father has made exponentially clear he doesn’t want Mads doing. Mads stops with his sneaker on top of the ball, rolling it up and back, then flicks it between his feet.

“Have to be good at something. Don’t you have a hobby or something?”

Hvitserk peels off his white shirt sodden with sweat and uses it to wipe away the moist sweat dribbling past his eyebrow. He gestures his hand to the dark wooden wedding band that was strapped to his finger. The wedding is next week and while he’s not technically married yet, Hvitserk wore it as some sort of unspoken promise.

“My hobby was women. Not allowed to do that shit anymore. Getting married next week, yeah?”

“Wow, well, uh.” Mads picks up the ball at his feet and searches for words. It’s always nice-- when your own son is amazed at how amazingly shitty of a person you were. Hvitserk chews his cheek, running his thumb along the drawstring at his hips to tighten it up. They walk lazily with one another to start the trek back home.

“I...” Hvitserk starts. “Liked to paint.”

“Gang signs?” he teases. He imagines his father with a can of spray paint or something-- tagging some poor idiot’s unsuspecting business.

“Na, women-- like Renoir.”

“Ren who?”

“I fuckin’ hope ya ain’t going to France like that,” he tsks his tongue, throwing his hand around Mads’s shoulder, chasing away the thought of the Wolves that were so at the forefront of his mind. “Take a class in French first.”

“I’m taking Spanish.”

“Spanish? Wha’s so important about-- oh wait. Fuck,” Hvitserk almost laughs, but it comes with the realization that Mads’s little girlfriend was, in fact, Hispanic. He ruffles Mads’s sweaty hair, shaking loose droplets into the air. “Tha’s my boy.”

There are moments in which Mads feels like his father’s son.

Today was one of them.

The date sped up on him faster than it should have.

This time, Hvitserk was insistent: the wedding had to happen as soon as possible. After all, he was thirty-six. He wasn’t going to be a man that was forty and single. No, he wasn’t. Not if he had everything he wanted; a woman and his very own grown-ass son. He had something to prove to that son. That he was serious about his family.

“What’cha think,” Hvitserk grumbled. His hair, newly cropped short, waved in silky honey waves around the side of his face. His jaw was peppered with a new sort of scruff, worlds apart from his clean-shaven, long-haired past. The suit was slim, crisp, monochrome like you liked it. Better be like you liked it: he wasn’t the type to wear suits for just anyone. His woman? Special exception there.

His son stood back. “Yeah, looks nice.”

“Yeah?”

He slipped in front of the mirror and gave himself a once over. He turns the ring on his finger over and over until he has residual finger ring burn. He bites down on his lip, ripping it between his teeth. It wasn’t just saying goodbye to his single man’s life; it was the fact that his remaining brothers were coming. Bjorn, Ivar, and Ubbe. Would Mads like them?

“Where my boots?”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. There’s a powerful thud at the door, then another. Booming laughs fill in the hallway just outside the room. Hvitserk exhales strongly. His large hand lands on Mads’s shoulder with a clasp.

“Those would be your uncles.”

Mads, the little baby, looks panicked as the door cracks open. Ivar knocks open the door, dressed in a deep maroon and black suit. It’s crisp and formed to his chest. You should at least like it-- given the shit that Ivar has given you this year, he looks good. Why would be expect anything less?

“Man c’mon,” Hvitserk rolls his eyes. “Could’ve waited man. My kid--”

“Why would I wait?” Ivar hums, hobbling forward. “You’ve been keeping my nephew hostage from me. Come here boy.”

“With good reason,” Sigurd can’t help but to comment. “You don’t really want to know him. He’s a--”

“Would you both shut up,” Mads hears another man say. He has ruddy hair and a ruddy beard, with sharp blue eyes. He is almost considerate-- if not for the wolfish look in his eyes, he could almost be considered the most placid of the brothers. Instead, he seems to be someone who is always planning. “You’ll scare him away.”

Hviserk settles a lily in the pocket to his suit and fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. Strange, he thinks, how you pick lilies. They’re a bittersweet flower for him to this day. When he bought you flowers, they were roses. Whatever possessed you to chose lilies, he’s not sure. It couldn’t possibly be-- Thora. No, you couldn’t remember her.

“Far,” Mads looks over and pleads for some guidance in those soft, bright eyes of his. His eyes snap toward Ivar’s dragging feet, then the drunken stamped in from huge Bjorn and comparatively more calculated steps from Ubbe. “Help.”

“What is there to be afraid of, hm?”

“Go on, go to Ivar.” Hvitserk swings his hands at his hips. Mads looks up the broad body of the blond man and inches toward the darkest haired brother. Probably not the safest of brothers to be speaking to but he’s heard his name multiple times before. Uncle Ivar was scary. And safe. “They won’t hurt you. They’re my brothers.”

“You want a drink, boy?!”

“A dr-- drink?”

Hvitserk wonders why he ever thought he could be a Wolf.

Asta has always been supportive. Too supportive. You knew, somewhere inside, she wasn’t happy about your choice to get married to a man that had gotten her into some trouble. Her whole life could have gone down the tubes thanks to him.

“Are you sure about this?” she said in her slim baby pink maid-of-honor dress. Your hairdresser affixed a soft baby pink pearl pin into your hair. “You can always wait like we said.”

“Waiting…” You glanced down toward your dress, smoothing out the dress’s slim bodice, leading out into its flowy a-line tulle skirt. Your loved the crisscrossing pearls that formed the straps over your shoulder and connected front and back-- maybe a little sexy for your hypersexual husband-to-be. Everything had gone perfectly. Your make up-- a natural, gentle shimmery pink. Everything was soft and natural, and pretty-- and you were so damn happy. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“I know.”

“And I want to do it,” you held the bouquet of fresh pink lilies. “I want him.”

“That’s too much information,” she teases.

The door creaked open behind you. While subconsciously, you knew that it wasn’t him-- you needed to know. “Magnus isn’t coming, is he?”

“It’s just me, mor.”

You exhale forcefully. You knew it would be a stretch to ask Magnus to give you away. After what happened to your father, Magnus had agreed to do so with whoever you chose. For sixteen years you banked on that promise. Only now, when it came down to it, he refused to do so.

“It’s a silly tradition anyway.”

Asta begins to protest that she can do it when your son, bless him, intervenes by kneeling down by your knee. His large hands overtook yours. Your hairdresser stepped aside after having affixed the veil to the top of your head. Everything had been going so well. Something… had to go wrong, right? That was the way that days went. They could never be absolutely perfect!

“I’ll do it. I can give you away.”

“You’d do that?” you ask him, unbelievably. You look between Asta-- and Alaia, who looks angelic in a puffy pink dress beside your son. Mads perches kneels beside you, looking like all the man you ever hoped he could be in every sleepless night that you spent up with him as a baby-- wishing that Hvitserk was there. Knowing that your mother said he could never be.

“But you thought I should wait.”

“Yeah but; I love you. That’s what matters, right? That you’re happy?”

That, more than anything, was enough for you. You press back the insistent prick of heat at the corner of your eyes and nod. As you stand up on clumsy metal heels, your boy is there with his hand encouragingly around your waist. Alaia looks for your bouquet of assorted blush and white flowers: lilies.

For a moment-- just a moment, its you and him. No one else matters in the grand scheme of things. He settles the bouquet of flowers between your fingertips, pulling the sheer veil back over your face. “You look… perfect, mor. He’s missing out.”

“Yeah, that’s what matters, baby.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk's heathen feast #honestsycrets fics #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk/you

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keyofjetwolf · 3 years

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We’re All Just Guys

Well it took the entire fucking season, but I FINALLY get the purpose for Henry Fondle: Sex Robot. And while the entire episode (and season, honestly) has been tremendous, that this ridiculous fucking punchline was the vehicle to deliver the overarching point with a solid knockout punch of meaning AND pathos? Absolutely floored. That BoJack Horseman can be (and often is) brilliant isn’t a surprise, but the ways is keeps proving it often are.

So “The Stopped Show”, a tale of accountability and responsibility and how we’re all just guys.

Each of our main characters closes out this season alone (sort of), in assorted stages of realizing the main themes, or completely failing to. I find Diane’s arc the hardest for me to make a decision on, which isn’t surprising, as I think in many ways, Diane’s the most complicated character in the show. She delivers, directly and succinctly, one of the major points of not just this season but the entire show, but how does it relate to her? I’M NOT COMPLETELY SURE. I think part of the problem with (and for) Diane is that she knows better. She’s the most insightful character, she has a fantastic head on her shoulders, but only for everyone else. She’s this fucked up little disaster prophet, her vision clear and her message concise, unable to ever apply her gifts to fix herself.

Diane is just as trapped as BoJack, but in a fun twist, is now lagging behind him in trying to do something about it. Nearly every single scene with Diane this season has been in this sad little room of her sad little apartment with all her sad little unpacked boxes, and no matter how much truth and wisdom she spits out, HERE SHE STILL IS, failing to correctly assemble IKEA furniture with names like Bȧcksleid. She already feels like shit for sleeping with Mr. Peanutbutter, so what does she do? THE SAME FUCKING THING. To which I groan and roll my eyes, while simultaneously being proud of her for directly and immediately setting him straight about not getting back together. Diane rides this constant line where she gets it but also doesn’t, which is so interesting to me in the level of additional frustration this makes me feel. BoJack is so self-absorbed you don’t really expect any better of him, which has the flip side of your expectations being so low that even the whiff of progress feels exceptional. Diane doesn’t come with any of that though, she knows better, you KNOW she knows better, and the consequence of this for the audience is that she winds up being more unlikeable than the guy who literally last episode nearly strangled his girlfriend and co-star in the middle of a paranoid drug-induced frenzy.

Which is fucked up! It’s intensely fucked up! And also, I think, the point! We expect more of Diane, and so feel more disappointed when she doesn’t deliver. Is that fair of us?

But there’s more here, as we pivot to the accountability portion of this episode/season. From the beginning of the show, it’s been incredibly upfront about how everything is unfair. We come back to this time and again. Privilege rules the day in the world of Hollywoo. Fame, money, charisma, gender, power. BoJack has been an asshole from pretty much the moment he set foot in the spotlight (possibly before?), and the only thing ever even attempting to hold him back has been the moments his guilt manages to scream loud enough to be heard over his internal narrative. Whatever he does, however he fucks up, he always stumbles back to his feet, and NEVER with any (broad scale) consequences. Meanwhile, here’s Diane, in her sad shitty apartment. Consequences haunt Diane, even if she’s the one doing the haunting. The crap things she’s done and the shitty choices she’s made cling to her.

There’s no fairness in that either, no justice. But Hollywoo (and the entire world around it) (and our world too oh yes) has that privilege carved into its bones, and Diane bears none of its marks. Her situation is very different from but parallel to Gina, who is just so fucked over, it keeps legitimately making me angry for her.

Gina, of course, brought none of this on herself. She made the mistake of caring about BoJack and trying to help him. OOPS YOU WERE A GENEROUS PERSON WITH AN OPEN HEART FUCK YOU LADY. For her trouble, Gina has been assaulted and traumatized, AND she is in very real danger of her career being over when it’s only just finally beginning. And she KNOWS THIS. That’s the part that I keep coming back to. All this should be an aberration, an anomaly, and while that may be true of the specifics, conceptually, it’s so commonplace that Gina already knows how it’s going to play. She’ll stop being Gina and become The Woman Nearly Strangled To Death By BoJack Horseman. Even if she’s able to keep working, this is what she’ll be asked about in every interview forever. Even if she convinced people to genuinely listen to her, BoJack would, at worst, get a slap on the wrist as he stumbles back to his feet. We know that, WE ALL KNOW THAT, because it happens all. the. fucking. time. Gina did nothing wrong, but this would still define her for the rest of her life, while for BoJack, it would maybe become a footnote on his Wikipedia page.

Nothing about that is FAIR. Nothing about it is JUST. Gina’s choices shouldn’t have to be “this becomes my entire life” or “swallow this down and pretend it never happened”. But it is, as it has been in perpetuity for the victims of the privileged.

So then what can we do about it? Well that’s really the question, isn’t it? This episode answers it in an assortment of ways (I think the entire SHOW is very much about this, really, but this episode is for sure coming with guns blazing), while also showing us why none of those answers can work. It’s funny and sad and awful and true, but also, ultimately, the most hopeful answer because it’s the only one you can actually affect: It’s you. It’s me. It’s each and every one of us, individually, making a choice to be better.

And believe it or not, we embody this with Henry Fondle: Sex Robot.

I thought the whole thing was so unbelievably stupid. Half the season, we’ve had this goddamn multi-dildo’d juvenile frat boy joke running around with its stupid ass Speak-and-Say voice, doing the same shtick over and over, and I’m like, “okay this is just the shit I have to put up with to get the clever stuff, I guess.” BUT THAT’S EXACTLY THE POINT I’M SITTING THERE LIVING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POINT AND MISSING IT. Henry Fondle: Sex Robot is seventeen shades of overt horribleness, AND WE ALL JUST GIVE IT A PASS. It’s just the way it is, the way the world works, the price of doing business. When the whole time -- THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME -- all it took was one person to say no. One person who could see the game we all are playing and was willing to give up everything to stop it.

Hilariously, Henry Fondle IS a metaphor, sort of, but of the saddest kind. He is literally a robot, he can’t possibly change. What’s more, media fervor will never affect him, fallout will never touch him, and the powerful will always rally around themselves to retain their power. It takes Todd, the head of the company, the creator of Henry Fondle, and the one person who would benefit most from the unending efforts of the rest of the world bending over backwards to avoid the truth, to put a stop to it. In doing so, he immediately returns to his old, homeless, destitute self, but doesn’t once hesitate or look back.

It’s Todd, and only Todd, that stops that madness, because while individual people are a problem, the world at large is too. Stefani makes a great point that Diane holds herself and everyone else to impossible standards and a little forgiveness and grace wouldn’t go amiss, but when Diane suggests they apply that philosophy to their clickbait gossipy shit on their website, it’s just

Which again, is beautifully cynical and depressing, but not untrue. Fostering a more forgiving culture isn’t in stopping websites from posting clickbaity takedown articles, it’s each person deciding not to take the clickbait. We can absolutely have a conversation about the people creating their world or the world creating its people, but when you boil it down, only one of those things can you yourself absolutely and directly change, and it’s not the entire world.

A THING DIANE GETS BUT SIMULTANEOUSLY ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT.

I can’t take myself away from this Diane thing, I know, but only because she’s the fucking CORE of each and every one of us struggling with this idea. She’s the simplicity of it and the complication all in one. Not BoJack, which is NOT where I thought we’d be when we started this journey. BoJack is more an action on the people around him at this point in the story, he IS the world you cannot change. He’s pointed to rehab, and off he goes -- or doesn’t! I don’t think it’s coincidence that we stay with Diane and watch her watching him.

Oh, Diane, indeed. As she tells her story of her friend Abby, who threw her over for the cool kids, who turned every confidence into a scar. Who Diane still helped anyway, because Abby needed her. Did Abby learn from that, did she get better? We don’t know; we stay with Diane and watch her watching Abby. Diane, who can so completely understand about personal responsibility while failing to recognize her own enabling for the shitty things that keep happening to her.

You can control yourself. That’s it. That’s the only playground with a guarantee.

Will BoJack go off to learn that? Will Diane stay and figure it out?

THAT’S WHAT NEXT SEASON IS FOR

Something I was toying with including in this, but ultimately decided against for a variety of reasons, was the contrast between BoJack’s take on personal responsibility independent of external response, and The Good Place’s argument that people need external support for personal growth. An idea I may not have even considered contrasting save that Doc’s talked before about these two Jewish creators with what are clearly very different philosophies, and basically, if she were ever able to manage a discussion between them on this, I’d love to be in the room. I’ll be very quiet and not get in the way, I promise.

#jet wolf watches bojack #a novel by jet wolf #this has been so hard to write and consolidate into a series of thoughts that made some measure of cohesive sense #i'm still not sure i've managed it #but i'm pretty sure i've kicked it around about as much as i'm able at this point #IT WORKS OR IT DOESN'T I DON'T KNOW FLY MY PRETTY

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multibug · 4 years

Text

Passion Fruit Lip Gloss

AO3

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U SO MUCH @emsylcatac

tags: identity reveal, fluff, kissing, aged-up characters, slight crack

Marinette adjusts the bedazzled party hat atop her head, the bright gold a stark contrast to her jet black hair. It doesn’t exactly go with her outfit of choice, though she’s not necessarily angry at it.

It was either that or the bedazzled green tiny cowboy hat.-

(“Green?!” she had asked Alya, when she was showing Marinette ideas about what to do for the hats.

“For our school colors, silly. We probably won’t use them anyway.”

Alya did end up using them in the end.)

Marinette’s wearing a peach-colored long-sleeve silk button up with thin red and white stripes vertically lining it. It’s tucked into a pair of black shorts with a leather belt.

In a moment of pure hastiness, she had chosen her tallest thigh high black heels, with a heel that raised her three full inches over her normal height.

A small beret keeps one side of her hair pinned back so her ear is exposed. She tied a thin choker around her neck to complete the look and a small touch of makeup with glossy lips.

It’s passion fruit flavor.

The clock hanging on the wall reads 23h00, giving Marinette a good hour and a half before she can beg off feigning tiredness as her excuse so Alya doesn’t call her a party pooper. It’s not that Marinette doesn’t like to party per say, it’s that she’s not exactly the third wheel type.

She’s had more than enough of it the last few days, thank you very much.

All of their friends are paired up with someone, whether it’s platonic or not. Alya and Nino, Kim and Ondine, Luka and XY—a big shocker to all of their friends with how much Luka despised him back in the day. There’s the obvious Juleka and Rose still holding strong, Kagami and Chloé, another eye-opener when they revealed it to their friends earlier last month.

Ivan and Mylène, who endured a long-distance relationship for a while before Ivan and his family moved back to Paris in August. Nathaniel and Marc, who sadly weren’t around a lot to cause Marinette much of a heartache, but enough nonetheless.

Even Alix and Max, two entirely platonic friends, were enough to make Marinette feel like she was third wheeling.

They aren’t doing it on purpose, at least Marinette thinks they aren’t, yet the longing to have someone on this chilly New Years Eve is almost unbearable. Almost.

A mix of something fruity and strong loiters in her hand long enough to help kick the feeling.

“Girl, what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Alya gently bumps her hip into Marinette’s, eyeing her over the top of her straw as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’ve been off all night!”

Alya’s cowboy hat is nearly slipping off her head at this point, though it looks as though the redhead hasn’t noticed.

Marinette stifles a giggle, shoving her half-filled drink into Alya’s free hand. She watches in bemusement as part of the drink sloshes to the floor and goes about fixing the small hat on top of Alya’s head. “There! All fixed.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to avoid my question,” Alya remarks with a sharply raised eyebrow.

“Me? Trying to avoid your question? Alya, you must be drunker than you think!” Marinette quickly takes the drink back from Alya’s hand and downs the rest of it, throwing an overly enthusiastic thumbs up in its wake.

“I’m on my first drink, M,” Alya deadpans.

Pursing her lips together, Marinette shrugs her shoulder sheepishly. “Sorry?”

The song changes from a slower song to a more upbeat one, the accompanying lights Nino installed in his and Alya’s apartment changing to the tune of it.

Alya knocks back the rest of her drink and slams the cup onto a nearby counter, a devious glint in her eyes.

Oh no.

“Come dance with me, M!” Her hand encircles Marinette’s wrist, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor whether Marinette wants to or not.

Marinette nearly trips over her heels in an attempt to keep up with Alya’s longer legs, knowing it's fruitless to argue with Alya when she has her mind set to something.

Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar tall blond squeezes past them with relative ease, Marinette briefly making eye contact with them. Time feels as though it slows down, Marinette’s lips parting slightly as she peers into the bright eyes of Adrien, who she hasn’t seen since Nino threw him a spectacular 19th birthday party in September.

A birthday party that Marinette still can’t remember to this day.

All she recalls is getting extremely plastered after seeing Adrien pictured with a girl in his newest edition of Vogue Paris. He hadn’t spoken about whether the girl was his girlfriend at the time, yet seeing them together had her feeling as though she was on fire.

Months of Marinette working towards getting over him just for her to realize it’s seemingly useless.

He’s always going to have a special place in her heart, she suspects.

His eyes soften as soon as he realizes it's her, his lips curving into a beautiful smile that outperforms all of his photoshoot pictures by a landslide. His hair’s grown slightly longer since she’s last seen him, curling around the back of his ear—a bit reminiscent of their collège days.

Adrien’s still just as gorgeous as she remembers.

“You look good,” she squeaks out over the bass of the music, inwardly screaming at herself to shut up.

“Thank you—” he cuts himself off as Alya drags Marinette across the room, his hand outstretched in reaching towards her.

Gosh, how she yearns to see if it’s as soft as it looks, even in the dim multi-colored lighting.

“Honey, I think the liquor is getting to you,” Alya whisper-yells into her ear, a tiny smirk lingering on her face.

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the party hat sliding with the movement. “No way, Al! I haven’t been drinking like that. Only enough for some liquid courage, you know?”

Just then, she trips over the heel of her boot and nearly forces them to the floor from using Alya as leverage. Thankfully, Alya was standing close enough to the wall to support them before that happened.

“Sure, babe. I’ll make sure either Nino or I take you home later.”

Sticking her tongue out at Alya, she sets her empty drink onto the nearest flat surface and throws her arms around Alya’s neck, losing herself to the beat of the music. Her hips move in time with the songs, some she faintly remembers, and others she’s never heard of.

Alya’s close enough to her that she begins to feel a bit sweaty as the songs pass.

At some point while Hot in Herre by Nelly is playing, Nino saddles up to them with drinks in his hands.

“Babe, I think she’s had enough,”Alya all but snaps.

Nino shoots her a look that says relax without actually saying it.

“Thanks, Nino! You’re a real pal.” Marinette loops her arm through his and leans her head against his bicep, taking a sip from the drink he gives her. “Yuck, water.”

“Yeah, you are a real pal,” Alya says with a fond grin, pressing a slightly sweaty kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, love.”

Marinette huffs. “I take it back. You’re not my pal.” She ruins this statement by tightening her grip on his arm.

“Ooh, she’s clingy tonight. Are you drunk, Nette?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just abnormally tipsy is all! I think it might just be hitting me now. Oh dear, maybe the water is a good idea.” Frowning, she sips at the water with her nose scrunched, a small pout forming on her face.

Raising her arm up to stare at the watch on her hand, she squints her eyes and is barely able to make out the time: 23h50.

Another New Years Eve, another kissless year.

“Hey guys! Kim is looking for you two. He said something about a major spill in the kitchen?”

It’s Adrien, dressed in a light blue—is that Givenchy?!—cotton button-up with yellow and green flowers scattered on it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the shirt itself is tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of brown chelsea boots.

It suits him well, so much so that she clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

Snap out of it.

Marinette blinks owlishly at Adrien, the liquor causing her head to feel fuzzy.

“I don’t want to leave Nette alone—”

Adrien laughs softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he interrupts, “Nino, I can take care of Mar while you guys go help Kim, yeah?”

“I am not a child.” Marinette detaches herself from Nino and stands proudly, chin held high. “I can take care of myself!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adrien replies gently, as to not spook her. “I’ll just be around to make sure you’re okay in the process, is that cool?”

He’s so nice. It warms her heart. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool, let’s go.” He slings an arm over her shoulder languidly and smiles down at her.

Her heart races.

“Do you want to go onto the balcony to watch the fireworks? Nino and Alya said it’s off limits, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us, right guys?”

Alya winks over at Marinette as Adrien’s head turns away to glance at Nino, and she replies, “Yeah, go for it.”

A blush rises on her cheeks, heat stinging her face. She’s going to kill Alya.

“C’mon, Mar, we’re out this bitch.” Adrien steers them over to the balcony and easily has them through the sliding doors within seconds.

It drowns out the party lingering behind them.

Glancing down at her wrist, Marinette notes that her watch reads 23h55. Five minutes until midnight. Time feels as though it’s gone so fast yet so slow, strangely enough.

She shivers, though the sensation is mostly coming from her stockings as her shirt’s fairly thick. She’s surprised when she feels a weight on her shoulders.

Out of thin air, Adrien produces a heavy bomber jacket that warms her to the core immediately. Maybe he grabbed it on their way out without her realizing it? Whatever the case may be, she’s very grateful for the heat seeping into her body while they’re out in the frigid Parisian air.

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, her arms crossing to grab either side of the jacket and hold it around her body.

“Of course,” he replies, shooting her the same smile from earlier.

It warms her more than the jacket does.

“You know,” he starts, hands twitching on the balcony railing, as he glances from the beautiful city view to her face. “I have so much to talk to you about. So much to say. Now isn’t the right time obviously, as you’ve been drinking—”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m perfectly coherent, Adrien.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he defends easily, his arm groping her elbow to ground her. “I’m just saying that I think this is a conversation where both of us should be completely sober and open to hearing the topic at hand.”

What does he mean by that? She’s not sure where she should be confused and worried or elated that he wants to talk to her about something serious. Either way, it’s puzzling her already fuzzy brain to the point where she bites down on her lower lip and lets out a huff unknowingly.

“Is it bad?” she finally asks, eyes flickering to her watch.

23h58.

“No, no! It’s not bad at all.” He squeezes her elbow reassuringly and smiles warmly at her, eyes glittering even in the dim light that shines above them. “I’m hoping it’ll be a good conversation, though I want you to remember it. That’s why I’m waiting.”

Waiting. Good. it’s good. For a good conversation. Ugh. Her brain hurts.

“Okay,” Marinette murmurs, blinking up at him slightly confused. She returns the smile once she notices his, it being too contagious for her not to. “Okay, I believe you.”

He hasn’t removed his hand from her elbow. She hasn’t shaken him off either.

Beyond them, miles and miles away, in the sea of twinkling lights and crowds of people, fireworks explode into the night sky as bright sensations. They light up the dark with their vibrant colors and intoxicating patterns, making it irresistibly hard to look away.

The second she does, her eyes are drawn to another light, this one alive.

Adrien, who is watching the fireworks with an expression of wonder. A tilt to his eyebrows and a small drop of his jaw, cheekbones dipping high with the shadow of the night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks, rather than wishing him a Happy New Years. Rather than stare at the beautiful swirls and patterns happening adjacent to her. She’s too focused on the beautiful boy in front of her, whether he knows she’s talking about him or not.

It has to be said.

He lets out a small chuckle and nods his head, free hand rubbing at the back of his head as he whispers, “Yeah, it sure is.”

“Bonne Année, Adrien, “ she whispers, so gently that she’s unsure as to if he’s heard it.

Wonder-filled eyes flickering over to her helps in answering her question.. He grins impossibly wide, all of his teeth showing so it’s nearly comical, yet it’s so unabashedly Adrien that she can’t help but return it for a second time tonight.

Adrien leans in, and for a second, Marinette truly thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her heart starts stuttering and the color the cold had ripped from her returns to her body so fast it feels like whiplash.

He doesn’t kiss her.

And yet, that isn’t the exact truth either, is it?

Lips brush against the apple of her cheek, so light that the touch feels both hot and cold simultaneously. It sends shivers throughout her body and the spot on her skin that his lips linger on burns hotter than the temperature of the sun.

She can’t think. Her brain is complete mush.

The tip of his cold nose nudges against her cheek afterwards briefly as he leans in to whisper into her ear, “Bonne Année to you as well, Marinette.”

Her heart continues to flutter until she falls asleep minutes later, curled up in his jacket all while leaning on him.

---

Daylight shines in through the slits of her blinds faster than Marinette would’ve liked, considering the horrible ache in her head. Except, she can’t exactly remember how she made it back to her apartment, which is a weird feat for her.

She rarely drinks enough to where she doesn’t remember what’s happening—Adrien’s birthday party being an anomaly.

How did she make it home yesterday?

Hm, maybe it was Alya or Nino? They aren’t the type to abandon one another in their times of need. even in times of absolute peril. There’s no way they didn’t have some part in getting her home, even if it meant physically seeing that she made it into her apartment building before leaving.

The thought makes her feel all fuzzy inside.

It could’ve been any of their friends at the party, if she’s honest. She doesn’t remember anything after Hot in Herre played on the dancefloor; hopefully bits and pieces come back as time goes on.

Oh well, it mustn’t be that important.

Peeling open an eye has her glancing over at her nightstand, a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water sitting neatly on her otherwise messy cupboard. She makes a move to grab the bottle and water when movement near her balcony door has her freezing in place.

Chat Noir is standing there, back turned to her—she can even recognize him in horribly-taken photographs—as though he’s trying to sneak out. He turns to glance back at her and she soundly slips her eyes shut, feigning sleep.

As her balcony door creaks, her eyes open and she watches Chat shut the door and bounce off the balcony with his staff.

“Tikki?”

Her small, red friend flies out from her little nest. “Yes, Marinette?”

“Was Chat Noir just in my room?” Her voice is thick with sleep and slightly hoarse.

Tikki’s eyes widen and she glances around the room nervously. “No? Were you dreaming? Chat Noir was most definitely not in here!”

Marinette’s eyes squint up at her. “Don’t lie to me. I just saw him!”

“Well, then why did you ask me?” Tikki whines, deflating a bit as she floats closer to Marinette. “Yes, Chat Noir was here. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you as you are the Guardian and it’s your decision, but if you don’t, I won’t utter a word.”

“Will it jeopardize me knowing his identity? I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Marinette worries, using her thumb and forefinger to toy with her lower lip.

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Tikki shrugs. “It may. I can’t say yes or no for sure. It would have to be a risk you’re willing to take.”

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair.” Marinette sighs, finally opening the bottle of paracetamol and downing two with large gulps of water. “Though I am curious.”

“As they say, curiosity killed the cat!” Tikki replies with a giggle.

Face-palming, Marinette groans aloud. “Oh no. He’s rubbing off on you too!”

---

“Girl, I’m surprised you haven’t called me,” Alya tells her, a few days later, when the New Years resolution goals have already lost their momentum. “I figured I’d get a phone call as soon as you got home.”

“What are you talking about, Als? Sorry, hold on.” Marinette pauses, readjusting the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her classes haven’t let back in for the semester, yet she’s trying to get a headstart on pinning a new design she’s working on so she doesn’t fall behind. “Okay, go on. I have my brain screwed in now.”

Things aren’t going according to plan, obviously.

Alya snorts. “With you and Adrien, duh! Do you seriously not remember it? I thought you weren’t plastered.”

“I wasn’t plastered! I guess I was just more tipsy than I thought I was.”

“So, you were drunk?”

“Shut up.”

Letting out another round of laughter, Alya says, “Well, I can fill you in if you’d like. It’s pretty juicy.”

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Marinette groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over her face.

“Oh come on! It’s not even bad! You did pretty well considering the circumstances!”

A pin falls to the floor at Alya’s word, forcing Marinette to tell her friend to hold on again. Three minutes later, she successfully finds the pin that somehow hid under the mannequin stand where she couldn’t see it.

Lucky? Pft. Not Marinette.

“You were saying?” Marinette asks.

Alya fills her in on all of the details rather quickly, from Adrien whisking her away while still being a gentleman about it to them having alone time on the balcony. The story lasts all of a minute, even with Alya’s expertise in story-telling, and it has Marinette’s heart fluttering.

The puzzle pieces start to connect.

“Als, I just remembered what happened on the balcony,” Marinette says, eyes slightly wide.

“Bitch, you better tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to come over to your apartment and sit on you.”

“You say that as if it’s a threat.”

“Marinette!”

Marinette lets out a snort and slaps her knee. She sets the last pin before rolling the mannequin back into its temporary home for the night. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just playing around, Als!”

“I love you, babe, but you’re killing me here.”

“Sorry,” she replies, though she’s really not.

“.....Marinette?”

“Oh! Right!” Marinette can hear Alya face-palming over the phone. “Well, all I remember is us talking and him telling me that he has to talk to me about something important. I don’t really remember much else but he kissed me on the cheek, Alya.”

Alya squeals—a sound Marinette’s never heard come from her mouth—and a jostling noise comes from her end. “Holy fuck, M! That’s amazing!”

“Right? At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but a cheek kiss is just as good nonetheless!”

“Babe, you were drunk. It’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you. That means he respects you, regardless of whether there’s any feelings or not there.”

Marinette lets out a small laugh, her heart swelling at Alya’s words. “You always know how to make situations better, don’t you?”

“It’s kind of my job,” Alya replies.

“And I love you for it.”

Alya blows a smooch over the phone. “Mwah! Right back at you.” She pauses, then quickly continues, “Oh! Did he say anything when he left your apartment after he dropped you off?”

Wait, what?

Marinette has no recollection of this happening whatsoever. She faintly remembers falling asleep against him—he was just so warm, okay?—but him taking her home? Alya has to be mistaken.

“He took me home? Are you sure? I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, he specifically told Nino and I that he’d take you home and then sent us a picture of you tucked in bed that night to ease my worrying. You know how much of a motherly hen I can be sometimes.”

None of it makes sense. Even if he did take her home that night, why was Chat Noir in her room early in the morning?

Unless…

No. There’s no way. Absolutely no way that she’s been this blind. No way that Marinette’s this lucky.

She’d know if her two favorite people in the world—excluding Alya and Nino—were the same person, right? There’s no way that the miraculous could’ve hidden it that well from her that she wouldn’t have noticed.

Except maybe... It had?

It comes together like whiplash. All of their mannerisms. From the way both Chat and Adrien rub their necks when they’re nervous, or when they make jokes but immediately retract them so as to not hurt the person’s feelings. Both of them having a rough home life and awful dads.

Piercing green eyes that remind Marinete of a home away from home.

It reminds her of those times in collège and lycée when Adrien would disappear and reappear whenever she would. She had attributed it to him being afraid of the akumas and finding somewhere safe to hide that entire time. It’s not like it was her place to judge anyone’s ways to cope with what was happening!

The quirks that the both of them share. Two halves of a whole. They merge together beautifully in her mind, filling a void she hadn’t known existed until now.

Her heart is so, so full.

“Als. I think I just had the world’s biggest revelation,” she breathes out, sounding absolutely lovesick.

“What is it?” Nino’s yelling about something incoherent in the background, and Marinette can just faintly hear Adrien’s voice.

“I think I’m in love with Adrien.” Her stomach flutters at her words.

Alya splutters out a hearty laugh. “Oh, M. We’ve been knew.”

---

Three days. Marinette’s lived with her secret for three whole days and she’s losing it.

She begged off spending time with Alya, Nino, and Adrien to try and gather her thoughts. Adrien being Chat is the best possible outcome for a partner she could’ve ever dreamed of, but she wants to tell him how much he means to her without fumbling over her words too much.

It’ll probably still happen. He is Adrien, for crying out loud.

Earlier, Marinette transformed so she could write some notes down in her compact in case she gets too flustered. Adrien’s nice enough that he won’t judge her for it, so she’s not too worried.

After a quick application of her favorite passion fruit flavor lip gloss, she sets off for their patrol meetup point.

“Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she says.

No response. Yes,. Marinette’s aware that her kwami can’t hear her or speak to her while she’s suited up, yet the hope still lingers for some absurd reason.

Marinette wholeheartedly blames the nerves.

Spotting Chat—Adrien is difficult. He blends into the shadows so easily that Marinette nearly falls off the building when he blinks his eyes open. She’s lucky that he has fast reflexes to catch her by the waist, because with how out of it she’s been today, she might’ve forgotten to use her yo-yo.

“Bug! It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

Oh no. His jokes just make him more attractive. She’s fucked.

Marinette’s hands fall to his biceps, and she’s unsure as to if she wants to tug him closer or push him away at that awful joke that has her heart racing. A look of surprise crosses his face and she squeaks, ducking out of his grip.

“Thanks,” she replies quietly.

“You didn’t make fun of my joke. Are you okay?” Concern etches its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees his fingers twitch in her direction. He stops himself as soon as he notices, choosing instead to idly twist the ring on his finger.

Taking a deep breath, she places her hand over his restless one. “Relax, kitty. I’m okay. Just nervous, because I have to talk to you about something.”

His eyes widen at her words, lips parting as he exhales a breath. She faintly feels it on her face as he says, “I have something to tell you too. It’s kind of urgent.”

“You can go first, okay? I can wait a little while longer.”

Adrien nods, tilting his head to the side with a cute smile on his face. “How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Marinette responds instantly.

It isn’t a lie, either. She genuinely trusts him with her life. Transformed, detransformed, heck, she trusts him blindfolded at this point.

He nods his head at her words and starts towards her, arms outstretched. Even as he scoops her up into his arms, her trust in him is unabated. “Hold onto me tight and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, alright?”

“Alright,” she echoes.

Then, Adrien’s off, running over rooftops at speeds that seem unimaginable when it isn't of her own doing. Her ponytail whips about in the frigid air, Marinette using his neck as a shield from the harsh wind.

She’s thrown back to Glaciator, where she and Adrien spoke about misfortunes and missed opportunities. He ended up showing her a beautiful scene atop a nearby rooftop, as both Ladybug and Marinette. Thinking back, her racing heart should’ve been a sign that her feelings for Chat weren’t platonic, yet it took years of walking on eggshells for one of them to finally crack.

“We’re almost there. You good down there?”

“I’m fine,” she says, laughing into his suit. “This isn’t where I find out you’re going to drop me off a building as a prank, is it?”

He scoffs, softly landing on what she assumes to be another rooftop. “Hardy har har, Bugaboo.”

The sound of a door opening and closing lets her know they’ve arrived—apparently it wasn’t a rooftop—and the temptation to look around is higher than she expected. She waits for his approval, wanting him to trust her as much as she trusts him.

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?”

Marinette nods into his neck, extending her legs so she can place them on the floor as he lowers her. Her arms stay wrapped around his neck, while her eyes continue to stay closed.

“I’m going to step back and then you can look.” Adrien lingers for a brief moment, breath fanning over Marinette’s face.

As he shifts away from her, her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes blink open seconds later and she peers around the bright room a little dazedly.

They’re in her shared apartment with Alya—in her room.

Younger Marinette would be freaking out about having Adrien Agreste in her room.

(Older Marinette isn’t faring much better.)

For some strange reason, Adrien knowing her identity never popped into her head when he said he had to talk to her. She had no clue as to what it could’ve been—especially not that.

“Oh,” Marinette breathes.

“Please don’t be mad,” he rushes out, hands shaking about in front of him in a nervous manner. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I know. And I didn’t mean to find out! I swear! It kind of just happened? I can’t even tell you how I found out unless you’re willing to know my identity too—gosh, I’m going to stop talking now.”

Seeing him so jittery helps to calm the rattling of her heart.

Marinette wordlessly grabs his hand and brings him over to the fluffy rug in the center of her room. She flops on top of it and criss-crosses her legs so he has enough room to do the same opposite her.

He follows, albeit a confused expression lingers on his face.

Their hands stay joined together, a nice weight resting on her knee. The tip of his claw is rubbing small circles into her palm, whether he notices it or not.

“I’m not mad,” she says, the softest of smiles spreading onto her cheeks. “I could never be mad at you, kitty.”

Adrien lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand, her heart flipping at the fond look he gives her. “Good, good.”

They stare at one another for a moment too long, before Marinette murmurs fuck it under her breath and detarnsforms.

His suit is oddly cool against her bare knee, his eyes flickering to their hands then back up to her face. He licks at his lips and breathes out, “Oh.”

“Hi,” she greets, with a small wave of her free hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts out.

Marinette lets out a surprised laugh, red peeking out under the dip of his mask. Her voice is teasing as she says,“Thank you, I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me blush or not.”

“Marinette, please.”

Hearing him say her name has her heart fluttering, and she detangles their hands to push up onto her knees, crawling towards him. She nudges his legs apart so she can fit between them, arms wrapping around his neck. Her cheek presses against his, the cool material of his suit helping to soothe her burning cheeks.

Even with the suit protecting him, she can feel the thumping of his heart against her chest.

“You wanna know my secret?” she asks faintly, as his hands move to settle on her back.

“Yes, tell me.” His claws rest lightly against the fabric of her shirt.

Her nose brushes against the tip of his ear and she feels him shudder. “I think you’re really, really cute, Adrien.”

“Plagg, claws off.” The transformation light has her eyes slipping shut briefly. When she reopens them, Adrien’s sat in front of her with a blinding smile on his face. “Hi.”

For some reason, she’s brought to tears by the situation. She holds them back the best she can. “Hey.”

She’s just so happy.

“I’m so glad it’s you, by the way,” Adrien professes, blinking back his own set of tears. “Like I know I’ve known for a while and all, but this still feels like finding out for the first time.”

“Are you trying to make me cry? You asshole,” she whines, tears sliding down her face.

Before she can reach up and wipe them away on her own, Adrien’s hand is there to do it for her. His touch is so gentle, and instead of returning to its previous position on her back, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. You mean so much to me. And to know that two of my favorite people are the same person? How could I be so lucky?”

“Two of your favorite people?” His head tilts to the side cutely, his hand idly stroking her jaw.

A blush returns to her face as she replies, “Yeah, I’m shocked you didn’t know, if I’m honest. I was so obvious about it! I’ve liked you as Adrien for so long, and then as soon as I realized that you’re Chat, all of my feelings for Chat were brought to light.”

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, licking at his lips.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t tease me!”

“I’m not teasing you, Mar! You’re just really cute!”

Oh god. Her face hides in his shoulder as she emits a small groan, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’m going to pass out if you keep talking about me like this.”

Adrien lets out a laugh that vibrates against her chest. “Well, I don’t want you to pass out, but I need you to know how much I like you.”

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks, face digging into his shoulder.

“Marinette,” Adrien echoes.

Slowly, she raises her head to shoot a pouty look in his direction. “You’re mean.”

“You don’t think I’m mean,” he starts, a devious glint in his eyes. Uh oh. “You like me.”

Marinette’s heart flips as his words, her lip only jutting out further. She tries to maneuver out of his arms, yet he doesn’t budge, his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. “I take it back.”

“No, you’re not allowed to do that. I will cry again!” He widens his slightly bloodshot eyes to prove his point.

“How did you even find out?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject.

“You told me. At my birthday party. You were drunk, so I sat with you for a while and you started rambling about things that didn’t really make sense—”

“Oh no.”

He sends her a small smile, then says, “Yeah, I hadn’t really believed that you were Ladybug at that point because you were really drunk, yet you mentioned our patrol meeting spot for the week and called ‘Chat’ your annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass and it clicked.”

“That’s it. I’m leaving and never coming back. Why am I so embarrassing? Annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass? I could’ve lived without knowing I said that to you!” Her forehead drops to lean against his cheek.

“It was cute! You’re cute and I like you so much, yeah?” His head turns so he can make eye contact with her, their noises brushing with how close they are to one another.

Marinette really wants to kiss him.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she awaits his response.

“Of course. You really didn’t have to ask, because I’d let you kiss me any day of the week, but I think it’s really nice that you did ask—”

She cuts off his nervous rambling by kissing him, her hand sliding up into his hair at the base of his neck. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest.

He tastes like flavored lip balm, hand moving from the dip of her back to her hip to hold her steady.

He tastes familiar.

It’s weird to think of. She kissed him when Kim became akumatized. According to the picture Alya showed her after hers and Nino’s joint akumatization, they had kissed for whatever reason.

Their almost kisses come to mind and she feels a different type of heat rise on her cheeks.

Marinette pulls back with a groan, nearly squeaking as Adrien follows her blindly to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. He lets her slip out of his arms and shove her face into the carpet, a hand trailing gently over her back.

“Was it that bad?” he jokes, sifting his other hand through her hair.

“No, oh my gosh. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed of! Your lips are really soft! I just thought of how I tried to kiss you when you faked being a statue all those years ago and now I’m embarrassed!”

“You’re the cutest ever,” he says, flopping onto his side to lay next to her. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear and nudges at her cheek with his nose. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’ve said and done so many things in front of you that could be considered embarrassing, but because it’s you, I don’t care.”

She turns her head and shoots him a look. “You never tried kissing a statue version of me!”

“And I like you even more for that! Look at us, Mar! We’re 18 and 19 respectively, and we’re laying on your fluffy rug around midnight! Everything about this could be considered embarrassing, except it’s not! Because it’s us.”

Adrien’s words only make Marinette more attracted to him at this point.

“We’re allowed to be embarrassing, but only when it’s us?” she asks.

He nods, lips quirking into a big smile. “Yes, exactly. I won’t be embarrassing with anyone else but you. You’re my embarrassing person, Marinette.”

“My heart shouldn’t be fluttering at you calling us embarrassing,” she whines, laying her hand on his chest.

“Embarrassingly in love idiots?” he whispers, finding her hand to tangle their fingers together so he can bring them up to his lips and brush his mouth over the back of her hand.

Marinette exhales a quiet laugh and says, “Very embarrassingly in love.”

They fall asleep like that, his arm wrapped around her waist while she lays her head on his chest, breaths mingling together.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in ages.

---

Marinette’s phone buzzing wakes her up the next morning.

She fumbles around for the device, letting out a small aha as her fingers grip the electronic. It’s hard for her to open her and stare at the small screen, yet when she notices it’s a message from Adrien, her eyes snap open.

Wait, when did she get in her own bed?

Quickly opening the message, she reads it with increasing vigor as the message goes on.

Adrien: Hey, Mar. I couldn’t stay long after you fell asleep because I had a photoshoot this morning and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you. I feel like I did a poor job at letting you know how I felt yesterday, so I’m going to say it here so it’s clear and you know, okay? (Don’t judge me!!!)

I like you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You have such amazing qualities that I admire and adore. You’re a leader who isn’t afraid to stick up for what she believes in, whether you’re in the suit or out of it! You make the world a better place just by being you. I couldn’t think of a better person being Ladybug, and it makes me so happy that it’s you.

I’d love to get to know you more. I think we both know that we click really well at this point, but I want to do this right with you. We’re a team, Bug. You and me. So, what do you say?

Her hand groggily slaps the call button, wiping back a few tears that slide down her cheeks from his works.

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey, Mar. Did you get my message—”

“You stupid cat! I’m sitting here at eight in the morning crying because of you! I loved every second of it.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “So does that mean it’s a yes?”

“We should go to the museum and reenact our statue scene as our date,” Marinette suggests, a large grin making its way onto her face.

Adrien nearly chokes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way, little bug.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #adrienette #ladynoir #i don't know whether to tag theo thers so ill just kepe it at them OKKOHGDKAOYERAO #IHOPE U LIKE IT EMSY I LOVE U

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melofanish · 3 years

Text

Have Me, Have You, Have Us

@carlosreyesweek Day 3: “Well, that just happened” + Friendship.

Summary: Five times Carlos reveals something about himself that no one else knows, and it helps him get closer to the 126 crew, and one time the 126 knows something that Carlos doesn't.

This is a multi-chaptered fic. I've tried to write them all in time to be published together, but by God, they weren't having it. I still haven't decided how I'll update, but I'm thinking bi-weekly. Tags will be updated accordingly.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Owen Strand, Michelle Blake, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Developing Friendship.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Homophobia.

Beta: The owner of my soul @lire-casander

Read on AO3

---

Chapter 1: Paul: Live This Life, It's All We Have

Carlos walks into the honky-tonk a mere forty-five minutes after his shift ended. He was on the way home when TK called him and asked if he would detour. He likes the man, so it didn't need much pondering over.

He sees TK standing in front of one of the multiple dartboards hung on the wall, alongside Michelle, Captain Strand, Judd, Marjan and Mateo. They seem to be engrossed in a contest, if the annoyance on Marjan's face, the smugness in Judd's and the paper and pen in Mateo's hand are anything to go by.

He hesitates for a moment, the idea of walking into the middle of the group to greet them sends a slight shiver down his back and he quickly decides he'll wait for them to finish. He spots Paul sitting at the self-claimed "126 table." He moves towards the bar, ordering mineral water, before he grabs his drink and walks towards the man. Recognising TK's jacket slung over the chair right next to Paul, he plops on the next stool over.

Paul turns around, a hint of surprise in his eyes, until the realisation of who this hits him, and it's replaced with a smile.

"Hey, man."

"Hey," Carlos greets him back, "how you doing?"

Paul shrugs, and even though it's not much, Carlos understands the meaning behind it all the same. They fall into a comfortable silence, Carlos' eyes roaming the open area ahead of them. Three girls stand in the corner, dancing quietly amongst each other, two elderly men occupy a booth, Carlos gets the vibe that they're trading life-altering experiences. More "dudebros" hang around the snooker tables and dartboards. Carlos is about to focus back on TK, when he notices a singular woman sitting in a booth alone, a drink in her hand, a small, shy smile on her lips and eyes trained somewhere on their table.

Carlos frowns. He turns around, about to ask for some super-human Paul deduction powers when he realises that Paul is staring right back at her. A shy smile on his face too.

Carlos blinks. He looks back at the woman and sees that her eyes are now on her table, and then he turns to Paul, and his eyes are roaming the ceiling of the bar. He turns back to the woman, and now she's looking at Paul again. And Paul has his eyes locked on her.

Carlos curls into himself slightly, trying to get out of their visual field. He's sitting somewhat between them, and he'd like to not be. He concentrates on his drink, and everything else in the bar that isn't Paul and his potential lady friend.

A few minutes later, he can't help but look towards her again. She's got her phone out now, scrolling up and down on the screen. Turning to Paul, he finds he's looking at his drink as well.

Carlos goes baffled. The woman is clearly interested in Paul, and while he might not be a super-detective like the other man, he can tell that the feeling is reciprocated. And yet, they're both just sitting here, alternating between eye flirting and avoidance. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he slides into the chair in between them.

"So, you're just not going to talk to her?"

Paul gawks at him, eyes widening in clear shock before he schools his reaction into some form of indifference.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Man," Carlos starts, rolling his eyes at the man, "I may not have the Gods of perception poised on my shoulders, but I'm not that blind!"

Paul narrows his eyes in response. Carlos is pretty sure he's going for accusation, but he's been trained to pick up on anything underneath, and in this case, it's a moment of contemplation. Whatever it is though, Paul seems to have made up his mind on it rather quickly. He sighs and looks down at his drink again.

"It's hard, man. Last thing I need is another rejection."

Carlos can't help the wave of sympathy that goes through him. The again that Paul’s not saying takes him back to the night they went clubbing. TK hadn't said much about why, just that a friend needed a night to have fun and forget about things.

"Ahh. Yeah. That's the queer life."

Paul snorts in reply, "Yeah, not all of us can find the one gay firefighter transfer and charm the pants off him."

Carlos lets out some mix of a loud laugh and a snort.

"Hey! I'm lucky right now, but that doesn't mean growing up didn't suck."

He can tell he's said too much by the way Paul goes quiet, and the atmosphere around them changes. With both understanding and pain. They look at each other, sharing a sympathetic smile, trying to convey a silent "yeah? You too?"

"Parents took it hard?" Paul asks.

Carlos lets out a genuine smile at that. If there's one thing he was blessed with the moment he was born, it was his family.

"The family was amazing. It's everyone else that wasn't."

Paul doesn't ask after that, not verbally at least. Carlos can see the questions in his eyes. He takes a calming breath. No one knows the story that's swarming around his mind right now. Michelle might have collected and connected bits and pieces through the years, but other than that, no one in Austin knows about his childhood.

But here he is. He's okay. And he has a friend who is in a place he was in years ago. Fighting with acceptance and fear of rejection. He takes another breath.

"I came out to my dad and sister when I was 12. Everything went well. They were supportive, pledged their love, all of that," he starts. "A few weeks later though, I started finding notes in my locker."

Paul lets out a groan, undeniably aware of what kind of notes Carlos is talking about.

"A few weeks after the notes started, I got called into the principal’s office and told that my dad would be informed and they would help us "change my homosexual ways", he added, air quotations included.

It takes him back to a decade and a half ago. When a young, short and lanky Carlos was in science class, the notes hidden in the depth of his backpack. When the school speakers boomed with the principal's voice saying "Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office. Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office." He remembers thinking, hoping, that it was about the notes, that the principal will ask who is sending him the vile words, and will make them stop.

He remembers standing up to leave, and the teacher, Mr. Roger, telling to pack his bag as well. He remembers hearing a strange tone, but not quite understanding it. He knows now it was poison, venom, hate. He remembers doing it anyway. He remembers the walk down the hallway, bag on his shoulders, and the teachers glaring at him through the glass slits in the doors.

He remembers getting to the office. The secretary, Ms. Harding, holding his hand, telling him "The Lord will cure you." He remembers not knowing what they meant. Not knowing what they were talking about. He doesn't get the chance to ask. He remembers being led to the Principal's room, the big office much more intimidating to his twelve-year-old eyes than it should have been. He remembers the nameplate; a large golden script of "Mr. Steve Atwood" and a smaller "Principal of Lubbock Junior High School" on a wooden piece. He remembers thinking it wasn't normal wood, it was red, and he didn't know wood could be red.

He remembers Mr. Atwood speaking, telling him that life is ruled by the Bible and God and Jesus. That he's a child who can still change. That this isn't the way to continue living. That his dad will be informed. That he will get help. That there are camps. That he will stop being this way.

"Were you out at school?" Paul asks, the horror evident in his tone.

It's the same horror Carlos remembers feeling when they were leaving church a few weeks before the incident, his sister by his side and their dad a few steps up ahead, talking to a neighbour. His sister had pointed towards a rainbow flag hung on the house across the street from the church. "We should get you one and hang it at home, that way the other boys like you will know where to find you," she had giggled. He had giggled right along with her, until he heard a gasp coming from behind him, and turned to find Mrs. Atwood behind him, eyes wide as he stared down at him in what he now knows was disgust. He remembers the fear that ran through him. But then his sister ran ahead. And he had followed her.

"Not really, but it doesn't make a difference," he explains. "It's not like they would have been supportive if I sat them down and told them."

Paul shakes his head, and then asks, "And then what happened?"

"My dad came in somewhere through the dialogue, I remember Mr. Atwood standing up, trying to greet him, but he was mad. Angry in a way I've never seen before. He told me to go outside and wait for him."

Carlos pauses, the memory assaulting his senses. "I heard him screaming at the principal, saying that it wasn't Mr. Atwood's place to talk to me, that I was a child, that it was none of his business. That I wouldn’t be coming back to that school again."

He remembers the entire interaction like it was mere days ago. His dad walking out of the office, squatting down to Carlos' level and asking him if he had all his things. Carlos had answered a weak "yes", and his dad was already holding his hand, pulling him out of the school and into the car.

"He was quiet throughout the car ride. We turned into our street, but he just kept going, saying he forgot to get something from the store. He started to joke around with me then, telling me he was the World's Strongest Man and he could carry me, and the car and everything and anything. I played right along, and somehow, I found myself agreeing that if he could carry me then he was as strong as he said. We circled around the block, didn't even go to any stores, and parked in front of our porch. He pulled me through his door, hid my head in his neck and ran me home."

Carlos pauses. He can see Paul frowning over the story losing sense. Just like he had thought for so long. It never made sense to him why his dad carried him. Why that day? Why that fast? Until…

"I later found out that someone had written the wonderful “f” slur on our garage door, and he didn't want me to see that."

Paul smiles and nods. Carlos knows there is nothing else he could do. There are no words or actions to express what he felt when he found that out. His dad, the man that had spent his everything raising him, seeing something he knew would hurt his child, and doing everything in his power to protect him. If he turns out to be half the father his dad was, he would consider himself a good father.

"We started packing almost immediately, and we were out of that town in a week. He wouldn't let me or my sister leave the house, not even to play in the yard, throughout the week. Dad said he got a transfer, but he was home for a month, so I have a feeling that wasn't exactly true."

"He just packed y'all up and brought you here?" Paul asks.

"Yes. That's exactly what he did. He wanted us to live freely. To love freely. And he knew we wouldn't be able to do that in Lubbock. So he moved us out."

"To Austin?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was miles better than Lubbock, so, no complaints." Paul hums, but Carlos isn't done, "And plus, I met you, my new bestest friend in Austin!"

Paul laughs at that, and Carlos can't help but join him at Paul's mumbled "Yeah, right!"

The laughter dies down, and the easy silence returns. Carlos lifts the drink to his lips, eyes searching for TK. He sees him practically hanging off Mateo, arms around his shoulders. Marjan butts in between, shaking her hands towards the board while TK makes some sort of hand gesture. They're trying to show Mateo how to throw a dart, he realises. Slightly to their side, Michelle, Captain Strand and Judd hang around, beers in hands, looking pleased. His vision roams the bar again, falling on the woman, and it dawns on him that he never got to tell Paul what started the whole story in the first place.

The realisation sends him into a frenzy. He turns to Paul, only to, of course, find him looking at the woman. He pokes Paul's arm, and his eyes break off her to focus back on Carlos.

"I didn't tell you my coming out story because I had nothing better to do, you know," Carlos starts. "I have more story."

Paul shakes his head, a smile on his face, before making a "go ahead" gesture with his hands.

"When we moved here, my dad sat me down, and told me that he had my back, and that I should live free. Be the person that I am, who happens to be gay. And I thought that would be it, you know, I'd live now. My family was supportive. I was in an open city. I had it all good."

"But?" Paul interrupts.

"But. It wasn't that easy. That interaction with the principal and the looks of the teachers hit me harder the more I grew up, the more I started to understand what they meant. And I found myself a seventeen-year-old gay guy that was out in every way but wasn’t really out. I wouldn't ask anyone out. I wouldn't flirt. I wouldn't even let myself look at guys. All because I was afraid of that judgement and rejection and hate."

Paul huffs a breath, eyes moving to stare at the table. Carlos doesn't speak either. He knows that's what this is all about. The fear of not being accepted. Of not being taken in and liked because of something as trivial as their identity. He knows Paul is contemplating the situation. The win-loss ratio. He knows he did, many times before. He still does.

"How did you get over it?"

Carlos is so lost in his own thoughts and emotions, he almost misses the mumbled question. He takes a breath, letting it out almost instantly in a sigh.

"My dad told me that I had spent too much time in fear. If I'm out, I might as well be out, live life, love life, and stop taking every rejection like it's the end of the world."

Paul nods, looking away at the woman across the bar, before Carlos continues, "When I still complained though, he then said "stop letting homophobic dickhead assholes control your life, if you like dick then you like dick, if the dick you like is a judgemental dick then find a better dick"."

Paul whips his head up to stare at Carlos, realises he is being serious, and proceeds to break out in a booming laugh. Carlos feigns offence for a moment, withdrawing his hand and holding it to his chest.

"You dare make fun of my father's sage advise?!"

Paul is still laughing, letting out broken no's and never's. Carlos drops the act, hands landing on the table and laughing with Paul, until it dies down.

"How did your nerdy self come from such wisdom?" Paul asks, after they take a moment to catch their breath.

"Hey! I took after his wisdom and handsomeness, I'll have you know!"

Paul snorts as he looks at the woman again, and Carlos turns his head just in time to see her lift her head up, make eye contact with Paul, and smile. He hears Paul inhale, and then, the scratch of a stool on wooden flooring.

He looks back at Paul, and finds that he's on his feet, fixing his pants. A grin takes over his face, and Paul levels him with a glare. It does nothing to diminish the excitement he feels when Paul pats his shoulder as he moves to the woman's table. The happy smile that takes over her face increases his own. And when she gestures at the empty seat across her - after a moment of talking - and Paul slides in, he realises that his heart beats with joy for him.

He's brought out to focus when arms circle his torso, and the very familiar lips of one TK Strand press a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"What's Paul doing?" TK says, gesturing with his chin towards the booth they're in.

"Going after the proverbial dick he likes."

#carlosreyesweek2021 #Day 3: Friendship #Day 3: Well that just happened #Friendship #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Paul Strickland #Marjan Marwani #Mateo Chavez #Judd Ryder #Owen Strand #Grace Ryder #Michelle Blake

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 18

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 18 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 17 / Part 19

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies: N/A

Word Count: 4k

A/N: this is going to get really fucking sappy from here on until the end. you have been warned.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You would come to miss those days on tour.

Those days were some of the best days of your life.

It was the eclectic array of nights spent dancing in clubs somewhere halfway across the world, where you had hardly any idea what the reference point for ‘halfway’ was.

You no longer measured the distance from home, because it was with you always now.

You finally understood all those stupidly sappy people, with their stupidly sappy sentiments about how home was not a place but a feeling.

Because Brian was that feeling.

It was the mornings in the UK where you discovered you had not seen all there was to see, the afternoons on the East Coast of the United States where you met a thousand new people, the evenings on the West Coast where you learned to surf, the nights in Japan where you didn’t speak the language and relied on universal symbols to do the talking for you, incoherent late-night-early-morning hours spent on god knew what tour bus or flight, leaned against Brian who slept as little as you. He awoke at every little jolt or sound, but did so with his hand in yours or resting lightly on your thigh, a small smile on his lips to ask if you were alright. You were always far better than simply alright, because it was all those little things that you lived for, because now, they were your life. And they made you feel alive. At home and alive.

When you’d returned to the tour bus on the route to Taunton, you’d been holding his hand, and it seemed that everyone had been anticipating this change, because the reactions were immediate.

“Did you two fucking finally get together?” said Roger, and the rest of the Queen entourage turned to look at you.

“Y/N!” Heather cried. “You didn’t think to tell me?!”

You reddened, fighting the urge to pull your fingers from Brian’s and run out the door. “It’s sort of a new thing—”

“When?” John piped up. “When did it happen?”

“Deacy!” Freddie cried. “Interrupting is rude. Finish your sentence, Y/N darling, then tell us when.”

You stammered, “I— um—”

“Liverpool,” said Brian firmly, wrapping his arm around your waist and dropping a kiss to your head. “We’ll be taking no further questions at this time.”

He then swept you with him to the seats at the back of the bus and proceeded to read to you from one of the many Hermann Hesse novels he’d packed, and his voice lulled you into a much-needed sleep.

And from that day on, the two of you became inseparable.

Every word you breathed was with Brian in mind, orchestrated in sentences to make him laugh in a way that warmed you down to your fingertips and toes, uttered for him because he was there and he would understand what you were talking about. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but it seemed that he was everywhere, influencing all that you did, because everything about him made you so ridiculously happy.

Those days were some of the best days of your life.

And some of the worst.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Bournemouth, 23rd of November, 1975

It was in Bournemouth, on the way down to the lobby, that you found the door to Freddie and Mary’s hotel room open, and the latter packing up her things.

There was no one else there and the empty hallway was quiet, but the kind of quiet in which chaos had only recently departed. A hesitance hung in the air, as though the occupants of the hotel, wherever they were, collectively held their breath.

The door was open in a manner that made you think that it had been left that way, a mess that remained unfixed, rather than an invitation to enter.

Still, Mary was alone, you could tell as much, so, thinking the circumstances strange, you approached the room and rapped your knuckles lightly against the wooden doorframe.

“Mary?”

“I’m going,” she said, without looking up.

You frowned. “Going where?”

“Home,” she slammed the suitcase shut. “To London.”

Surely, it couldn’t be so bad with Freddie that she was really going home. You couldn’t imagine wanting to leave tour life. There were so many places to go, to see, and that first night in the wings— that feeling. You’d never give that up. But maybe Mary no longer got that feeling, when she was watching someone her heart had deemed a stranger.

“Now?”

She sighed, in a way that made her countenance suddenly more sad than angry. “Now,” she affirmed. “Have to figure out what happens next.”

You nodded, your understanding contrite but understanding nonetheless. It would be strange to be around Queen without Mary, now that you were also without Veronica. The feeling was one of falling apart, of growing smaller. The warm days of Ridge Farm were gone, and so were many of the familial bonds.

On her way out the door, Mary touched your shoulder. “I hope you and Brian will be happy together. He’s a lovely soul, and so are you.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

She flashed you a brief, melancholy smile, and went on her way.

No one left Freddie alone for the next many nights, a support system of bad jokes and too much wine constructed to drive away the loneliness, the loneliness that would have plagued anyone at the loss of their best friend.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

England, Late December, 1975

Roger made a face. “Where the hell is he?”

Deacy only glanced at his watch and shook his head.

“He’s always complaining that I’m late,” Freddie voiced his woe, “but now where’s he? Fucking late, that’s where!” Freddie patted your shoulder. “No offense, darling.”

“Uh,” you said bemusedly, “none taken?”

“Well,” Freddie sighed, “he is your boyfriend after all.”

Just then, as the doors to the lift began to close for the third time, and no one paid any mind to stop them from doing so, Brian hurtled around the corner and slipped through the tightening gap, just in time.

“Why, speak of the devil,” Freddie deadpanned, shuffling farther back to accommodate for the elevator’s fifth passenger.

“The sun,” you said. “It’s the sun.”

Deacy snorted. “It would be, for you.”

Brian glanced around, his complexion rendered in a rosy glow from whatever dash he’d just made to the lift. “Sorry about that. What’d I miss?” He turned to you, one of his pretty smiles skimming across his face like moonlight on river water. “Hi love,” he said, his touch falling to your arms as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Hi gorgeous,” you replied, a swell of warmth in your chest as he lingered in his proximity to you.

“Oh, kiss her properly!” Roger cried.

“Yeah,” John laughed. “Kiss her properly, Brian.”

Brian sighed, but it was adoration that was in his eyes when he bent to kiss your mouth with tenderness that melted you. He pulled away all too soon.

“I would kiss her properly,” he said to Freddie’s tutting, “and I bloody well will—” your skin tingled with the weight of his hand on your waist— “but I have something to tell you all, so if you’d just shut up for a second, that’d be great.”

“Spit it out, then,” Freddie urged with a wave of his hand, and Brian rolled his eyes.

“Your song, Fred,” he said pointedly.

Freddie smirked. “Yes, darling. Which one? I’ve got many you know.”

“Bohemian Rhapsody!” Brian said.

“Our song,” Freddie corrected.

“Well, whatever it is,” Brian shook his head as though in disbelief, “it’s only bloody went and gone to number one on the UK charts!”

Deacy’s mouth fell open. Freddie blinked.

“You’re shitting me,” Roger said.

“No, Rog. Not this time.”

There was a pause.

And then the lift erupted into absolute mania.

Screaming and shouting and jumping up and down, Freddie crushing the lot of you in a fierce hug, Brian peppering your hair with kisses in excitement as tears pricked the eyes of Deacy, and Roger nearly pulled out his hair in running his fingers so violently through it.

You had never before experienced such plain, unbridled joy, and to think that you were not only present to witness this, but that you had been part of the reason for the monumental occasion, floored you, brought your own wave of emotion as you shared in the happiness of your friends.

Until of course the elevator shuddered to a halt, and the five of you were thrown into a contorted heap on the dusty floor.

“Shit, fuck!” Roger swore, having hit his head rather hard on the railing that lined the elevator box.

Freddie rubbed his elbow as he sat up, pulled Deacy up beside him. “Now, dears, is the time to confess if you’re claustrophobic.”

Brian tugged you into a sitting position, his hands fluttering all about you. “Love? You’re not hurt, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m fine. Are you okay?”

He nodded, kissed the top of your head. He was rather affectionate these days, but you did not mind in the slightest. It was wonderful to feel so loved, as loved as he made you feel.

“If resident idiot one and resident idiot two are quite finished professing their undying love,” John interrupted, and you blushed, “then we should probably press the emergency call button.”

“Oh, right,” Brian mumbled, and being the closest, reached over and pushed the big red button that mothers were always telling their children not to push.

You all looked on raptly, but no light illuminated the red plastic.

“We’re doomed,” Freddie groaned.

“You can’t actually starve to death within an hour,” Brian said, “which is probably the maximum amount of time it’ll take for someone to notice we’re gone, track us down, and get us out.”

“But I could die of boredom within the hour,” Roger argued. “Or less time than that. Yes… I think I could do it in less time than that.”

“Well,” Deacy grinned, “that’s not going to happen.” He promptly pulled a deck of cards from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, but that’ll never do,” you said, and the others eyed you in confusion. You shrugged. “It’s not Scrabble.”

Brian threw his head back in laughter, and the warmth of the rumble resounded within your heart.

“You’re one of us,” he whispered as Deacy dealt the cards. “You’re one of us.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

London, 24th of December, 1975

The search and rescue party had arrived within the hour, as surely as Brian had predicted, and champagne was toasted at the news of Bohemian Rhapsody’s rampant success.

But it was Christmas Eve when everyone took a turn for the worse.

With the exception of John, Queen had come down with a particularly nasty case of the flu.

Roger could be found in a number of places throughout the day— from the dressing room couch to his tour bus bunk to his actual hotel room, slumped against a wall or draped like a loose swath of fabric in some corner. He was being waited on hand-and-foot by both Heather and Crystal, the latter of whom began to roll his eyes as the hours went on, and muttered something about not being paid enough.

Freddie felt rather sorry for himself, which you equated to meaning that he was the least afflicted out of the three, flailing about and crying for more tea— and biscuits. That was how you knew he was alright; he could still stomach biscuits.

Brian was the one you worried most for, and not only on account of your closeness with him. He said even less than usual, ate and drank as little as he spoke, and hardly moved. His eyes were half-closed and his head dropped to his chest, and even his curls seemed to droop. It quite hurt you to look at him, because his pain was so apparent. He shifted on the bed and his wince lanced pain through your chest. He lifted a glass of water to his lips, and the paleness of his pallor tore at you. It was as though somebody had taken a string and threaded it first through his heart and then through yours, so that you were connected and his pain drained you as much as it drained him.

With two hours until showtime, soundcheck over and done, Brian had crawled back into bed and now lay with at least half a dozen blankets pulled up to his chin, his curls splayed out on the pillow like a halo, as his eyelashes cast spindly shadows over his face in the low lamplight.

You had barely dropped your things to the floor by the time his eyes had fallen shut, but you approached the bed now and watched him pull the covers more tightly around his body.

“Can I help you, love?” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

You shook your head, kneeling at his side. “No,” you brushed a stray curl from his face. “Nothing for me. Just tell me what I can do for you.”

A soft sigh. “I don’t know.”

Your fingers continued their gentle tracings along his skin. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to convince Freddie to cancel, seeing as three of you are sick.”

His eyes flew open. “No,” he said. “We’re not cancelling on account of me having a bloody cold.”

You pressed your hand to his forehead. “Brian, you’ve got the fucking flu.”

He sighed again. “Didn’t you say you had magic powers?”

“No, Brimi, you said that.”

He slipped his hand out from under the covers and into your grasp. “Did I? I must be very clever, then.”

You rolled your eyes. “The fever is making you delusional.”

A cough rattled his chest and you clutched his fingers in alarm.

“Maybe,” he said, and a sigh caught in his throat. He looked at you. “Stay with me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“More than anything.”

You nodded. Then you climbed into bed beside him, figuring that you would’ve fallen ill too by now if it was going to happen, and besides, there weren’t thousands of people depending on your health.

You kissed the corner of his mouth softly, winding your arms around his torso. “I’m here,” you whispered.

“You’ll get sick,” he murmured back.

“Then you won’t be alone.”

He peered down at you. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked.

“Everything.”

His lips parted as though he had words prepared, but all that left him was another sigh. He pulled you closer and you held him until both band and crew were hammering at the door for Brian to hurry up and get ready.

He was nearly out the door when you pulled him back and stood on your toes to loop one of your own scarves around his neck, a white one you’d once bought in Kensington Market, near Freddie and Roger’s stall.

Brian had blinked in surprise, but you’d smiled.

“A scarf for a scarf.”

And then you’d ushered him out the door and toward the stage.

He’d doubled back so as to kiss the top of your head. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Happy Christmas, Brian.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

January, 1976

It was lucky there was a month gap between the European and North American segments of the tour, because as it happened, you fell just as ill as the others had been. But normally, where you normally would have had no one to take care of you, aside from Heather who was in and out of the house on account of both school and work, you now had the doting presence of Brian May.

He barely left your side, and if he did, it was only to get you something. He stayed with you night and day, and would have done so with his arms around you if you’d let him. But you didn’t want to risk him getting sick again, so he slept on the floor by your bed, and you let your hand dangle over the edge of the sheets to reach for his.

When the end of the month rolled around and you were packing up again for the flight to America, Brian came by and wound his arms around your waist in greeting, nuzzling kisses into your neck.

“Hello Brian,” you said, twisting in his arms.

“Hello love,” he mumbled the words into your skin.

For a moment, you smiled up at him and he smiled down at you, before he kissed you and the world fell away again. The rest of the world always fell away where Brian was concerned. The world, relatively speaking, did not matter, for who was he if not your world?

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded. He smiled and picked up your suitcase, but you stopped him.

Concern creased his brow. “What is it—”

You pulled him down to you and covered his mouth with yours, unable to help yourself.

He hummed in response, and the sound tingled on your lips as his fingertips pressed warmly against your sides, as you leaned on the bed for support, as he leaned his hips against yours.

Time and space blurred in equal amounts when Brian angled his jaw to kiss you more deeply, and gravity tipped, powerless in the wake of this moment except to bring two dazed lovers together in a mess of tangled limbs and stuttering hearts, atop a cottony duvet where they’d once been no more than classmates.

He swept a line of kisses over your jaw and your neck until they reached the hollow of your throat, where they stopped. You opened your eyes to find Brian gazing down at you, his breath laboured and the hazel of his eyes brighter than usual, offset by dilated pupils.

“We have to go,” he whispered, and you groaned aloud. “Else we’ll miss the flight.”

“Why’d you have to be a famous musician, again?”

His smile was infectious. “Because somebody said I was good enough to be.”

“I hate it when my own words come back to bite me.”

Brian only laughed, pressed a stubbornly chaste kiss to your mouth, and pulled you up to stand. “Come on, my love.”

You were almost out of the house when you realised you’d forgotten something. You left Brian at the door and rushed back to your room.

Smiling at the rainbow bundle on your bed, you grabbed it and hurried back to meet Brian outside, locking the front door for the last time in a good while.

You thrust the scarf in his face, and his face twisted in confusion.

“Take it back,” you said.

He shook his head slowly. “Why on Earth would I do that? It’s as much yours as it is mine.”

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

Brian grinned as you slung the garment around his neck. “So it’s a loan?” he said.

“Definitely a loan.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, and the two of you traipsed toward the road to catch a taxi to the airport.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Midwest United States, Mid-February, 1976

“Do you realise it’s been a year?”

“Hm?” you said.

Following a show and one of Freddie’s exuberant parties, you were sitting across from Deacy, playing, of all things, Scrabble. The others had long since departed or fallen asleep in clustered heaps, alcohol-induced slumbers and post-show exhaustion finally taking hold. Indeed, Brian was asleep with his head in your lap, and you ran your fingers absently through his hair as you pondered how exactly to dismantle John’s winning Scrabble score.

John reiterated, “Do you realise it’s been a year since you came and saw us at the Union, and realised we all knew each other?”

A year. No, you hadn’t realised.

You had not realised that it had been a year since you’d walked with Brian in the sunshine, simply a planet orbiting a star, in lieu of the two-cluster of stars you’d now become, intertwined more often than not.

You had not realised that it had been a year since you’d thought you’d likely never see him again, before you’d known who he was and how your paths would undoubtedly have crossed eventually, no matter how far you might have felt from him. A year since he’d leant you a scarf that was now yours as much as it was his, a year since he’d sent you home because he was concerned you were tired, a year since he’d called you to let you know that your mutual friend was alright, since he’d wished you goodnight with such sincerity that you’d recalled the moments for weeks afterward.

You looked down at Brian, at the angular face, the soft, slack lips that always turned up in a smile at the sight of you, the planed chest you’d slept soundly against, his hands, the ridiculously long legs that accounted for ninety percent of his height, the silly wooden shoes he loved so dearly to stare at when you flustered him.

He shifted in his sleep, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, turned your composure to mush, because he really was just that beautiful.

“Y/N?”

You looked back up at John.

“No,” you replied softly. “I had no idea.”

Deacy smiled, laying down another score-boosting Scrabble word. It was some electrical engineering term, the meaning of which evaded you, but you countered with syzygy and your smile broadened, because Brian would have been proud of you for using an astronomy term. You could almost see his twinkling eyes as he pressed you to his side and murmured ‘my evening star’.

Deacy groaned as your Scrabble score passed his, rubbing tired eyes.

“Giving up, are we?” you taunted.

John yawned. “Never. I’m just postponing. We’ll finish this another day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How are we going to remember what the board looks like, hm? No way you’re getting a second chance with a clean board.”

Deacy rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine, just give me a moment.”

He stood and soon disappeared into the adjourning room. A few moments later, he reappeared with a camera.

“I’ve stolen Roger’s polaroid camera now,” he whispered, taking care not to step on Crystal’s hand on the path back to the Scrabble table. He took a picture of the board and tossed it in your direction.

You laughed, and stifled it immediately when Deacy looked pointedly at Brian, who was, miraculously, still asleep in your lap.

“Get your boyfriend to bed,” Deacy said, pulling on his jacket.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” you hissed back.

Deacy shrugged. “I don’t know. Wake him up.”

You poked your tongue out at John, who waved cheerily and departed, claiming that the time difference made now the perfect hour to phone his wife and child.

You were left on a couch, surrounded by a floor populated by overtired musicians, roadies, techies, groupies, and the most gangly person of them all preventing you from getting up.

“Bri,” you whispered, brushing the curls back from his face. “Time to go.”

A sharp intake of breath and he was awake; his hand found yours and brought it to his lips, kissing the base of your palm.

It was those little moments you cherished, betwixt the madness of it all, when small gestures quieted the world around you and you found yourself once more wandering through a dreamscape of adoration, adoration for the one who had the ability to make the world fall silent with the touch of a hand.

“Oh,” he sighed, reaching up to touch your cheek, “but I’d so much rather stay with you.”

You shook your head slightly. “Who said I was going anywhere?”

He smiled that lovely smile of his, and you sighed softly.

If you could help it, you’d never go anywhere far from him again.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

taglist: @melting-obelisks @retropetalss @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96 @themarchoftherainbowqueen @annajolras @mazzell-ro

Masterpost / Part 17 / Part 19

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may x reader #fic

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artxyra · 5 years

Text

Another DC TA Marinette | #2

*So I’m still not good at fighting sequences, so if the fight scene towards the end seems off and not quite right, I’m sorry. Also if you asked to be tagged and don’t see your name please tell (DM) me so that I can add you to the next part. I’m aiming for at least 5 parts for this version, so we shall see how this will go.

Part 1 | Part 2 (here) |

Part 2: Dupont Meet Gotham

Caline was very, very sorry for her class. They haven’t been in Gotham for a single day and Lila’s already causing trouble. The trouble that cannot be fixed if something goes wrong here. There was no Hawkmoth to save her or to validate her emotions. It was no secret that Caline has Marinette on speed dial, but she knew how much the graduate loves her time away from this class. Maybe it was best to bring Marinette in and give the class a shock, but it may be too late for that.

“No, no, I’m Damian Wayne’s girlfriend, there must be a special or something for your boss’ heir.” Lila tries to spin her web of lies to the barista as the class gathers around at a nearby cafe.

The barista stares boringly at the Italian native waiting for her to make up her mind and order already.

“Look girly, you’re holding up the line. We don’t do specials for Wayne’s here, and if you’re truly Damian Wayne’s girlfriend then you would know that.” The barista states gesturing to the long line full of Dupont’s students and actual customers.

Lila’s eyes began to get teary-eyed, “I will have you know…”

“Lady, if you don’t order something in the next five seconds, you will be kick outta here.” The barista firmly states glaring at Lila with no room for negotiations.

Lila scoffs and runs into Alya’s waiting arms, crying her eyes out. Alya glares at the barista, who gave zero fucks about what just happened and takes the order of the next person.

“Shh...everything will be okay, Lila. Besides, don’t you have that date tonight with your boo?”

Lila sniffles a laugh and nods. Oh, how she has them deeply entangled in her web. “Then let this one incident go and let’s go out the strip, you can spend some of my earning for ice cream or something.”

Caline along with everyone (meaning two people, maybe four people) in the Marinette protection squad could do is either roll their eyes or shake their heads.

Chloe with her coffee in hand scoffs at the scene in front of her and looks over to Adrien. “At least she’s not hanging onto you every second of the day.” She jokes remembering the times when Lila’s lies were small and surrounding around the Agreste name.

Adrien softly groans, “Don’t remind me. For she had to be my date to one of my father’s fashion shows which were quite weird considering that I was already with Luka when it happened.”

“Yeesh,” Chloe grimace at the thought of that situation. Her phone buzz signaling an incoming message. It’s from Marinette.

“Bug is texting. I’m surprised she didn’t send it to the group chat.” Chloe states before taking a sip of her drink and opening the message.

Multi-Bug: Hey did you get to Gotham, alright?

Melitta Bee: Yea, y weren’t u w/ us?

Multi-Bug: You’ll see why soon ;)

Multi-Bug: Anywho, how’s the class goin?

Melitta Bee: Gettin worse by the min

Multi-Bug: It will be good soon

Chloe scoffs at the message and shakes her head. “Bug will be the death of me., literally.” She groans opting to not reply to the message.

“What did she say?” Adrien asks keeping a firm eye on Lilia, looking to see if she does anything stupid to get them killed.

“You know how cryptic she can be. All I got from that was that everything will be fine. Like how she’s going to get here? Seriously, this trip is utterly ridiculous, ridiculous.” Chloe vents to the model.

Adrien nods, but then quickly nudges Chloe seeing that Lila is heading there way.

“Oh look, trouble.” Chloe jokes as Lila stands very close to the two blondes.

“Do you always complain about stuff, Chloe. I only came here to befriend you seeing that Mari isn't here to corrupt you.” And there goes the dramatics.

“The only thing that is corrupted is you and this fucking class.” Chloe turns around, grabbing Adrien’s hand, and walk out of the cafe.

Chloe B. @queenbeeyellow Hey, wish @mdcfashion is here with us. It’s boring here w/ only @adrienagreste

Attach is an image of Chloe and Adrien in front of the cate wearing sunglass and making funny hand gestures towards the camera. It was clear that it was a selfie.

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

Marinette smiles at the tweet before returning her attention back to the Headmaster of Gotham Academy, Mr. Collingwood .

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, where are your key cards for access to the building of both here and to your class’s residential stay. Will you be joining them at the hotel or be staying with Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ll be staying with Mr. Wayne, Mr. Collingwood .” She answers with a soft smile.

The headmaster nods and leans back into his chair.

“I’m I required to participate in class sessions as a student or am I just there to observe?” It was an honest question seeing that she is the teacher assistant rather than a student.

“That would depend on your class’ homeroom teacher. It is most likely that you and that teacher’s T.A. would work together and demonstrate whatever projects are and hand out paperwork.” He answers clasping his hands together as his focus remains on Marinette.

Marinette nods and takes the small stack of supplies into her arms.

Marinette: I have gotten everything ready

Marinette: Everything should be set for Monday. I’ll see you then.

Mme. Bustier: Oh thank you, Marinette.

Mme. Bustier: Your classmates will be ecstatic to know that you’ll be here.

Marinette: I doubt that.

Caline Bustier closes her messenger app and turns to the class and gasps. The core Lila group is missing. No longer in the cafe, just great, great. They barely know their surrounding area despite what Lila said about being here, but if that was true it wasn’t recently. Places change and Gotham is no different.

“Chloe, Adrien, do you know where the core group went?” Caline asks, turning her attention to the two blondes drinking, perhaps coffee, maybe even tea.

Chloe shrugs while Adrien shakes his head unsure how to answer. It was no secret that the dislike the Lila group.

“First day here and I’ve already lost some teens.” Caline huffs and walks out of the cafe to find her so-called perfect students.

“Did she look panic to you?” Adrien asks setting his drink down.

Chloe nods, “Should we go help?”

“It’ll lessen her panic attack later.” Adrien agrees as the two of them get up and follow their teacher.

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

Tina @thepinkmistress #anotherdayingotham so apparently Two-Face has a bunch of foreigners held at gunpoint. They’re officially now apart of Gotham

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

With Lila and her small crew of loyal followers, they were just stirring up trouble. It all started when Alya offered to take Lila out to the strip for shopping not realizing how dangerous it was to be. Well, it’s not like they cared. To them, this was a vacation with added on classes.

“Oh, I can’t believe my Damibear texted me saying that he was excited that I was back in town. We can finally rekindle that long lost love we had.” Lila gossips about as the two were entering a nearby storefront.

“Girl, you’ve waited long enough, let’s go prep you for your man,” Alya exclaims dragging the twin tail girl further into the store. Nino unsure why he is with them just sighs and looks for something to give to Alya as he wasn’t able to for their anniversary.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t have a discount here?” Oh great, here we go again.

“Look, lady, Damian Wayne may be a big name here, but we don’t do discounts for people like him.” The store attendant spoke up about rubbing her hands against her face.

“Surely, he would have a tab open or something. He knows this is one of my favorite stores to shop in when I’m in town.”

“Uh...we just opened our stores, like, two years ago. That and we’re strictly located here and in Metropolis.”

Lila pouts and begins to throw a fit. If only, Hawkmoth was here.

“Girl. I sure this is some kind of mishap. I’ll pay for the clothes and then we can go sightseeing in this part of town.” Alya offers, showing her a credit card in her hand.

Lila squeals and jumps into Alya’s arms. Little did she know that it was actually Nino’s credit card instead of Alya’s. Alya’s parents were very concern about their daughter’s spending habits and put a cap on it that she clearly maxed out before the trip.

Ivan walks over to Nino seeing as the poor DJ was lonely and that Mylene was trapped in the web of lies, well he is too, but he hides it well under the impression that it’s to make Mylene happy.

“You okay?” Ivan asks catching the Dj’s attention.

Nino grunts and shakes his headphones off. “No--yes-maybe, I don’t know.” He admits staring off to the empty space that was his girlfriend and her best friend.

Before Ivan could answer, a loud scream can be heard from outside the store.

“Shit, do not leave this place.” The store attendant gasps, only to be ignored by the remaining students of Dupont. The store attendant sighs and ducks behind the desk.

“Lila!” Alya screeches.

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

Miraculously Safe GC:

Melitta: How quickly can you lose a spider?

Ryouko: Quick why?

Musical Viper: That depends, when did you see the spider? How big was it?

Melitta: Mme. B lost the spider and her trapees

Multi-Bug: WHAT!!!

PunNoir: Yeah, she lost them so now we’re out searching for them.

Melitta: It’s not like they went that far?

Multi-Bug: You’re in Gotham, crime central, and she lost some students!!!

Ryouko: I’m sure everything will be fine, Bee.

Musical Viper: Keep your eyes open, Punn, if things do go wrong we’re only a plane ticket away.

Melitta: SHIT!! Lila started up another mess.

Muli-Bug: WHAT!!!

Chloe and Adrien quickly hide their phones and disappear behind a building, hoping that the shadows cover them from the watchful eyes of Two-Face and his minions.

Mme. Bustier apparently didn’t get that message and wounded up wrapped into the mess her students have caused.

Two-Faced stares menacing at the teens as his men surround the group all at gunpoint.

Lila being the idiot she is started crying how her Damibear would pay him, save her even. The man was not swayed.

“Clean, we shut the girl up; scarred, we kill her right here and now.” He murmurs drawing out his lucky coin to do his bidding. “However, we don’t have much time. That bats would be here any minute.”

As Two-Face explains his plan to his men, one of the guns goes off. Everyone shrieks in terror. Alya stares, frozen as her phone lays died with a bullet hole on the ground. Blood seeps through her hands.

“Boss, she was filming us.” One of the henchmen explains with steam oozing out of his gun.

“Dumb girl, did she really think it was smart to film right in front of us. At least be like every citizen here and do it in secret.” Two-Face groans, gesturing for the men to fire a new round.

Everything freeze, while Lila screams her head off naming off every possible hero she could think of.

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

Marinette runs through the city at a hasty pace. She’s maneuvering her way through the large crowd of citizens all trying to get away from the lastest villain attack down near the shopping strip. Marinette comes to a barreling stop.

She could hear the cries of Lila Rossi from a block away and it was painful to hear. Her naming every hero only to get knocked upside the head by one of the henchmen. This will not look good for the exchange program in the future. Mme. Bustier tries—and fails—to negotiate with Two-Face.

Two-Face keeps playing with his coin deciding what misery he shall put these foreigners through just to grab the Bat’s attention. Then again would he even care, that just means new toys for him and his men.

Marinette looks around searching for a distraction. Nothing comes up. She needs to think fast seeing as the Batfam and they are currently being held up. Not that the public needs to know that. She got it. Getting closer to the range. She then pulls out her traveling yoyo and readies a swing.

Just as Two-Face flips his coin, Marinette throws the yoyo.

The yoyo knocks the coin away, just as the string wraps around it as she pulls back. The Parisians students look up hoping to see a familiar hero in red and black. They saw no one.

“Find my coin you fools and kill however took the dang thing.” Two-Face shouts out in a fit of rage.

Marinette yelps and disappears around the corner. She finds Chloe and Adrien hiding spot not far from her. Unwrapping the coin from the string, she tosses it up into the sky and takes off before gunshots are heard near her way.

“Thank god you guys are okay.” She pants out, scaring Chloe in the process as the Bee miraculous holder shrieks out and attempts to roundhouse kick the graduate. “Chloe! It’s me.”

“Multi?” Chloe gasps out in shock as she finally takes in the appearance of her leader. Marinette wasn’t in her usual Paris getup but instead in a pair of black leggings, an over-the-shoulder tee with all the Batfamily emblems. Ankle boot thick heels, good for running. The biggest difference being her hair as it’s half up and half down with pink lowlights covering the once fully black, nearly blue hair. “Damn, hun, you look fine.”

Marinette chuckles, “I’m sure ‘Gami would love to hear you say that.”

Chloe shrugs as Adrien comes out of his shocked stance. “Mari, what? How? When?”

“At ease Chaton, I’ve been here in Gotham for the past few weeks. However, that is not our issue right now. The class is being held hostage by Two-Face, a villain with a mess-up sense of justice. An excellent attorney but he has a few loose screws. I bought the class time from being publicly executed for the Bats to get here. I just hope that they do it quickly.

From the corner of her eye, Marinette could spot the familiar colors, that she very much hate but haven’t gotten the time to screech at them for, appearing on the rooftops of a nearby building.

“Thank kwami, they’re here.”

“Who’s here?” Adrien and Chloe chimes together. Marinette smiles at the two with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Two-Face let the students go?” Batman demands, appearing on the scenes with little to no room for negotiations.

“And where’s the fun in that, Batman?” Two-Face asks as a new coin is placed into his hand. It may not be the one that Marinette stole but it will do. “Clean says I leave, but scarred says I will kill every one of them.” He tosses the coin up.

The coin lands in his hand, lifting his hand up it shows the scarred face of the coin. “Oh look at that, they’re dead anyway.”

Immediately, the henchman readies there guns only for bat-a-rangs to knock them out of the out of their hands.

“They never come alone do they?” Two-Face mutters as Robin and Nightwing jumps down into the scene.

Robin with no hesitation attacks and disarm whoever comes his way. Batman could only facepalm seeing his son basically ignore the plan. Nightwing shrugs and joins in. This only left the big Bat and Two-Face at a stand-off. Two-Face readies his own gun and shoots a couple of rounds at the dark knight.

It wasn’t long before the fight ends and the paramedics come in to help the injured students. Marinette motions for Chloe and Adrien to follow. She walks over to Robin with her arms folded against her chest.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers to her when she was in earshot. Marinette huffs and rolls her eyes before playing the average Batfamily fangirl.

“Oh my god, Batman, you saved my class!” She squeals. Her voice catches the attention of her conscious classmates.

“Marinette?!” They shout in disbelief as Mme. Bustier smiles in relief.

The paramedics gave Mme. Bustier a slip as the class minus Aly and Lilia, both who are still in custody of the paramedics, run over to their missing classmate.

Marinette quickly gives Robin a knowing look before focusing her attention on the class.

It wasn’t long before she’s surrounded by an overwhelming amount of questions. So, now they care about her.. Yikes. Marinette turns to Chloe and Adrien for help. Chloe scoffs and shoves through the class.

“Leave the girl alone, besides you just went through something most people would consider traumatizing but knowing us this is nothing compare to dealing with akumas.”

Marinette smiles at Chloe.

The class disperses.

“Maybe it’s time for us to head back to the hotel.” Mme. Bustier pipes up knowing full well that she’ll have to report this incident to the board under the predicament that it was due to Lila’s compulsive lying that put them through struggle.

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

At the Dupont’s homestay--well it was more of a hotel than anything, Lila and Alya were ushered to their rooms while the rest of the class goes to comfort the two in the best way possible. While that was going on. Marinette decided to have a meeting with Caline about the issue.

“She can’t be alone in this city.”

“I know that, Marinette.”

“On a different note, I’ll be attending your class session at the academy.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? “I suppose, but it’ll be slightly harder to keep my status as a lycee graduate under wraps.”

“You’re what!” The familiar sound of Chloe’s shrill voice echos in the room.

“Hi Chloe,” Marinette meekly greets one of her best friends.

“Don’t hey Chloe, me missy. When were you going to tell us that you graduate?”

Caline took this moment to exit the room leaving the two teens to their demise.

“Do you want the real answer or the answer that will satisfy you?”

Chloe glares down at the teacher assistant.

Marinette sighs, “I’ve been done with lycee since last quarter. Instead of making a big deal of graduating early, I volunteered to be a teacher assistant for the rest of the year while I start my university courses online.”

Chloe looks down before hugging Marinette. “Thank you,” She whispers into the graduate’s neck. “You could have left Adrien and me to the spider but you chose not to. Thank you, Multi for everything.”

Marinette blinks the tear away and returns the hug.

Marinette left the hotel with the promise of catching up tomorrow when they have class. The only thing good that came through was that she didn’t have to deal with Alya or Lila that night, the next day, she wasn’t so sure yet.

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

“That was really stupid of you, Angel, to get involve like that,” Damian states bringing his girlfriend into his arms when she’s safely located in his bedroom.

Marinette giggles and kisses his cheek. “It wasn’t like I was directly involved., my Prince.” She whispers into his ear. A faint pink blush against Damian’s cheeks.

“If it wasn’t for Robin and the rest, you could have been killed if Two-Face found out that it was you that took his coin.”

“You know I’m stronger than what I look. Besides, I have better things to worry about than a villain that isn’t my foe.”

Damian groans, “Angel, you will be the death of me.”

Instead of speaking, Marinette kisses him, allowing him to pull them onto the bed.

“Use protection!” One of his brothers shout out, it was most likely Jason.

“Kill him in the morning, when I’m not around.” Marinette murmurs before preceding with their original plan.

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

The next morning, the Dupont class along with Marinette stands outside the booming gates of Gotham Academy.

“I wonder if my Damibear is here, too. The last I heard he was overseas on a family vacation.” Lila blissfully wonders to get the reassurance from her loyal friends.

Marinette rolls her eyes and looks to the person walking towards the gate.

Manette @gothamsfashionsense Hanging out in GA for the next couple of days. Does anyone want to join?

In the image attached is a photo of a coffee cup in one hand with the gates of Gotham Academy in the background.

As of 12/9/19, the Tag List is CLOSED

Any asks before that will still be added. After that, I’m sorry but can follow my fic tags.

#daminette #marinette x damian #teacher assistant Marinette AU #teacher assistant au #maribat #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug

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just-zenitsu · 4 years

Note

Hello do you have any Zenistu-centric fic recs bls I am starving

heh

yes

(but it’s under read more bc this got out of hand) (also none of these are shippy, but if u want some of those fics yall can just send an ask for that )

Follow Me [Multi-chap, Inc]

When the only people Zenitsu considers family are killed off by an upper moon. It leaves the scared boy all alone in a dangerous world, or well, that is until a pillar finds him and tries in his own awkward ways to train him for the final selection.

Or, In which Obanai doesn't want to but still somehow ends up taking Zenitsu under his wing

The Sound Before the Strike [One-shot]

Before Zenitsu ever was the unlikeliest survivor of the Final Selection, he was an accidental student.

Pre-manga, slight spoiler at the end.

This Time It’ll Work [Multi-chap, Inc]

Zenitsu Agatsuma will try again, for the gods didn’t give a second chance for no reason. So this time, he’ll aid them— he’ll save them. As best as he can.

Prodigal Song [Multi-chap, Inc]

"He's active again. He's on a mission, but reluctantly."

Zenitsu's latest assignment sends him right back to where he started. Of all the markets for a demon to prowl, it just had to pick his hometown.

It figures.

(Takes place just before Chapter 100, following the entertainment district arc.)

You Slot Right Into My Life [Multi-chap, Complete]

The Journey of Zenitsu and how he managed, without trying, to win over Obanai Iguro, and become the snake Pillar's unofficial baby brother.

Overwhelming [One-shot]

Zenitsu wasn't sure why but the sound that came from her was concerning.

golden [One-shot]

zenitsu's sword is golden.

and so is he.

Electrolysis [One-shot]

Zenitsu loves girls. He loves their voices, loves their faces, loves their pretty clothes and the ornaments they put in their hair. Girls are amazing, in a way boys can't be, in a way he will simply never be.

A Good Hearing (But A Better Sight) [Multi-chap, Inc]

As a matter of fact, Zenitsu didn't want that "gift" or whatever that was, because ghosts were loud and hurt his ears and he had enough problems as it was.

But we don't get to choose what we can and cannot see, and Zenitsu sees and hears a lot of things. Way too much, if you ask him.

night knuckles [Multi-chap, Inc]

Besides his tendencies to scream and complain about missions to no end- there was another condition that led him to the unending questions of whether the world wanted him dead or alive for yet another day of suffering.

He had a certain kind of ‘illness’ on where he just, loses consciousness- he falls asleep.

((the ones below here arent zenitsu-centric but they feat. him and i just think they’re neat))

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day [Multi-chap, Complete]

Sanemi gets hit by a car, and is reminded that he is surrounded by idiots.

Perseverance [One-shot]

Murata is plain normal. He does his job, does what he can, and does it well. He wants to live a life he can be proud of, as a man and as a Demon Slayer. If he falls, he gets up and starts working again. If the mission requires him to work in a team with the most annoying person he's ever met, he will. Because Murata just wants to do what he can, and do it well. That's all. (If Agatsuma could stop whining for a second though, that would be great.)

Something Old (Something Beautiful) [One-shot(?)]

Agatsuma Yoshiteru is fascinated by his great-grandfather's writing. There's something about it, telling him it's important.

He just has to figure it out.

Feeling Blue [One-shot]

There was only one time her family ever spoke at the dining table, and it wasn't a good one.

In which a life-altering event leaves a girl grasping for some semblance of stability, and others take notice.

The Cat Song [One-shot that’s a part of a series]

“I’ve been thinking about cats.” Zenitsu says pensively.

“What about your midterm?” Tanjirou asks, defeatedly.

“I’ve been thinking about cats.” Zenitsu repeats, just a tad louder this time as he sits up, “Specifically about their paws.”

Tanjirou blinks. Then he shifts in his seat and faces Zenitsu. Learning through osmosis can wait for this conversation to be over. “Their paws.”

————————————

Otherwise known as: Tanjirou and Zenitsu procrastinate studying for midterms by discussing the very important subject that is a cat’s toe beans. They’re dorks and probably ooc but we die like men.

Stylish Stuffy Democracy Collective [One-shot]

"We are Stylish Stuffy Democracy and we're here to blow your mind with our wickedly explosive sound! Prepare to be brought to tears!" "Wait, are we allowed to actually say that? Isn't that too aggressive?"

Tengen groans. This is an actual mistake.

(or: Uzui Tengen is a jaded art teacher who just wants to feel like himself again and thinks starting a music club slash school band will help.)

(me adding the fics below: kaigaku may have some rights, as a lil treat)

Cyanide At The Center Of A Peach [One-shot]

In another life, after killing a Lower Moon and establishing himself as the sole survivor of a terrible massacre, Kaigaku became a Hashira. This... does not change much.

In which grandfathers plot, crybabys cry, and one poisonous man's headache gets worse and worse.

breath of reincarnation [Multi-chap, Inc]

It was as Kaigaku closed his eyes for the final time that he lamented how pitiful his life was. Then he opened them again and realized that he found himself in his old master's house as if nothing had happened.

Alternatively named: Kaigaku is reincarnated and he accidentally changes a lot of things without meaning to.

Zero Sum [Multi-chap, Complete]

“Can you get the hell on with it? I swear to god, if you’re just calling to waste my - ”

“It’s Gramps.”

The rest of his threat dies in the back of his throat. A weird sort of buzzing noise fills his ears, and he’s suddenly, so awfully, aware of his own heartbeat.

Modern AU Thunder Family fic where Kaigaku comes home and maybe learns how to be part of a social unit.

---

annnnddd that’s all, i would’ve fukin, GUSHED about each one of these fics, believe me, but that would’ve taken too long, and anyways PLEASE give love to these authors by leaving kudos to their works, they honestly deserve it!!!! (except for that one fic that was written by me that i discreetly added in here lol, that one can choke)

#ask #wow tumblr ruined the formatting for this #forgive for not answering asks i am. distraught bc i have been having thoughts about being terrible at answering them skjdfd #and this one was easy to answer bc i get to talk abt other works of people that i think are super cool!#fic #.post

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cryysiswritesthings · 4 years

Text

The Multi-verse Theory || UFC

Series: Inuyasha, Modern AU Rating: Mature Warnings: N/A Status: On-going Pairing: KogKag Summary:

Something caught his opponent’s attention. Gold eyes flicked to the side once, twice, before lighting up with recognition. Split lips lifted in a smirk, a single fang glinting in the overhead lights. His stance shifted, newfound resolve strengthening overworked muscles.

Kouga knew that look. When it was genuine, he’d watched winning contenders get slaughtered by their opponents. But you always knew when it was faked. The loser would put on a show, try to get in a few jabs, and then lose their false confidence at the knockout. But for a guy like this…

The scent hit him then. Subtle and hard to make out through pounds of sweat-soaked bodies. Vanilla and sandalwood.

Damn it all. She’d shown up.

Find it On: AO3

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #inuyasha #multiverse #ufc fighting

His coaches were yelling in the background, but he couldn’t hear them over the crowd’s roar and the blood rushing in his ears. The half-breed was breathing hard, spitting blood to the floor. He was a flagging; a few more hits and he’d be down for the count. Bastard put up a better fight than he’d expected, but it hadn’t been enough. Not even close.

The scent hit him then. Subtle and hard to make out through pounds of sweat-soaked bodies. Vanilla and sandalwood.

Damn it all. She’d shown up.

Kouga wiped at the sweat dripping down his head, using the motion to hide his grimace of annoyance. Somehow, her presence had a way of screwing him over every time. Just like now. A moment ago, he’d had this fight in the bag.

Looked like he was wrong.

–

Kouga sat alone, head hanging in gloved hands while the crowd cheered outside. He’d been so close. So damn fucking close. It was almost laughable.

Three combos and an uppercut. That’s all it had taken. Total knockout. And it was all her fucking fault.

Metal hinges creaked, telling him someone had come to witness his defeat. Likely one of the coaches coming to give him another ‘pep talk--’

He caught the scent of dog. He bared his teeth, the expression hidden in his gloves.

Dog, sandalwood, and vanilla.

Her heels clacked against the concrete floor, but Kouga didn’t lift his head. It was the scrape of a metal chair against the concrete that finally made him look at her, glacial eyes brimming with a mixture of amusement and rage.

Raven black hair fell against her back in waves, storm grey eyes lined with kohl. Her shirt was navy satin; her black skirt stopped above her knees, showing off creamy skin and smooth legs. In her manicured hands was a small tape recorder, its red light shining power. Glitter pink lips lifted in a smile.

Kagome Higurashi. Reporter for the Sports Radar.

He’d been a goner the second he laid eyes on her.

“Kouga, the self-proclaimed Wolf of the ring. Three-time tournament champion, tonight’s victory will send him on a one-way trip to the national semi-finals. Or at least,” Kagome’s smile shifted, becoming an amused grin. He had to fight not to return it. “It was supposed to.”

“Nice to see you too, Higurashi,” Kouga growled crossly, finally letting his hands drop..

“Tell us Kouga, after that… sudden, epic defeat, how are you feeling? It has to be tough, knowing you were so close, and then seconds later having it all ripped away from you.”

His gaze flicked between her face and the glowing light on the recorder. His coaches hated it when he fucked up interviews. Too bad he didn’t really care.

He straightened on the bench with a tired sigh. “You here supporting my opponents now? Thought I was your favorite.”

Pleased, she mimicked the motion. “I don’t come to offer my personal support. I just do interviews with contenders.” Her grin sharpened. “And write glowing reviews of the winners.”

‘Glowing reviews.’ Yeah, all that white hair had nearly blinded him at the start of the match. “And when this is over, how long is it going to take you to ask his opinion about my answers?”

She tapped her chin, thoughtful. “I suppose that depends. Sports fans always like hearing about their favorites losing to the underdog.” He wondered if she’d be able to hear her smile when she listened to the recording later. “Even if it is just to scream about the match being rigged.”

“If you’re there it may as well be,” he groused. He glowered at the recorder. “Turn that fucking thing off, unless you want those sports fans to hear something they shouldn’t.”

She laughed and rose. “Why Kouga,” with practiced ease, she flicked the switch and pocketed the recorder. Finally. “Whatever could you mean?”

Kouga growled and tugged her into his lap. “Woman…”

Kagome smiled and brushed the tip of her nose against his. “Problem, champ?”

“Ex-champ,” he said sourly, then nipped her chin sharply. “So thanks for that.”

She snickered, unashamed, and ran slim fingers through his sweat-soaked bangs. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t really be true.”

“Mh-hm.” He let his eyes close and savored the feeling of her nails dragging over his scalp. “How much longer are you here for?“

She shrugged, tugging at the tie in his hair until it came free. The hand not in his hair cupped the back of his neck and scratched at the soft skin. “Could be a while. Managers want me to cozy up with the new champ.”

Kouga’s lips lifted in a snarl, his peace momentarily shattered. Clawed fingers pulled her satin shirt from beneath her skirt, his large hand a brand of heat against her side. “Yeah, I know. I hate it.”

He didn’t see Kagome’s smile, but the kiss she pressed to his lips was meant to soothe. His chest rumbled; he didn’t appreciate the placation, but let her do it anyway. He liked her feisty, but she tasted that much sweeter when he played at understanding.

She brushed her cheek over his jaw, her breath warm against his ear. “You know no matter what they ask me to do,” she whispered, “you’re the one I come home to. That’s not going to change.”

He bit his tongue to cut off his immediate response. Instead, he wrapped his free hand in her hair and directed her face to his. He returned her earlier gesture, a soft brush of the tip of his nose against hers. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.“

Satisfied, Kagome hummed and dripped kisses over his lips and jaw. “I wouldn’t ask you too. There is one good thing about this though.” She paused. “Well, two things, if you want to think about it.”

Kouga’s snort was all the answer he needed. Rather than keep talking, he pressed kisses over her neck and nipped gently at the delicate skin. Her soft gasp encouraged him, but it didn’t erase the burn of his jealousy. The dark bruises he sucked on her neck helped.

“Kouga…”

He released her, but only to hike the edge of her skirt up to her thighs. “Problem, Kagome?”

Her whimper answered him. His smile was wicked; he kept his mouth busy at her neck to hear more of those sounds, the scent of her arousal hovering in his nose. When her skirt was high enough, she straddled his lap of her own volition. His hands covered the tops of her thighs and pulled her closer. There was just enough space between them for her to undo the first buttons of her blouse and reveal fine black lace, peppered with shining crystals, over the white silk of her bra.

Kouga growled low, and in his anger he drug his fangs over her throat. “This had better not be for him. Tell me that isn’t for him.”

Kagome gasped in surprise and shook her head. “It’s not,” she tugged his face from her neck with his hair. Blue eyes locked, firm with intent. “I didn’t wear this for him. It’s a present. I got it for you.”

His anger subsided, soothed by the admission. Kouga slid his fingers higher under her skirt. “Matching set?”

She bit her lip and nodded, sliding the fabric up to her waist. The sides were black ribbon, neat bows keeping the fabric in place. There was a column of black lace over the center of white silk, and more black ribbon sitting atop it, a double-cross lacing that stretched from one end of the lace to the other.

But the pièce de résistance of her lingerie took shape in the large tear-drop crystal at its center, a beacon to draw the eye and keep it there.

Kouga’s smirk was all predator, his rumble of pleasure vibrating in her chest. The sound set off sparks of heat everywhere in her body. One place in particular.

The scent of her arousal filled his nose, and he swelled with pride. He nibbled her ears' outer shell, making the woman in his arms shiver. “You want me.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, and bit her lip when he pulled at the ties. “Kouga, wait…”

“Why?” His jealousy flared again; he rocked his hips upwards and his erection against her slowly dripping core. “Your new friend waiting for you?”

“Yes,” she snapped back, growing tired of the game, “he is.” That had always been a part of the deal, no matter how much he disliked it. He wasn’t allowed to interfere with her work. But she didn’t want to fight, so she tried to soften her tone.

“I have to finish my interview,” she tilted her head back and rose to her knees, putting herself above him. “And we both know how you get. Once we get started, you can’t stop.”

Kouga narrowed his eyes. “I don’t ever hear you complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” she laughed, kissing the bridge of his nose. “I would just rather not start a sex marathon in the locker room when I have to be somewhere.”

The wolf snorted. “I don’t see the problem.”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “The problem, champ,” she teased, finding her feet so she could stand, “is that you don’t like being interrupted. And I don’t want to have to worry about my responsibilities when you’re pounding into me.”

She laughed at his scowl, but the wolf didn’t mind. Not really. Instead, he watched her set her clothes to rights. “You said he’s not seeing those?” She hummed an affirmative while she fumbled with a button. Kouga stood and took over for her. “Then we compromise.”

His reporter raised a brow. “I’m listening.”

He backed her into a wall, trapping her with his body. “I let you finish your interview with… minimal complaints,” he ignored her snicker. “But I only got to see part of this new set.”

“Mm, that’s true.” She tilted her head to the side to give him access to her throat. He accepted the offer and set his teeth against his previous marks. “And I did spend so long picking it out.”

“Exactly. It should be properly appreciated.” It was hard to resist the urge to pick up her and wrap her legs around his waist, but he managed it. “So you go finish your interview, and I let the assholes yell at me for a bit. But when I get home…” he drew a claw down her side. “I want you laid out in my bed. With just my present.”

Just the idea made her quiver; heat pooled low in her belly. “I think I can manage something.”

His smile showed glinting fangs.

“I thought you’d say that.”

#kogkag #inuyasha #multiverse #ufc fighting

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alexandrinav0605 · 3 years

Text

Talking to Strangers

Multi-Chapter 2/? LINK TO AO3

We learn more about Penny’s past and actual home life. Another group meeting and Penny gives Steve a piece of her mind.

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TW: Implications of Rape at the end of the chapter.

English is not my first language, therefore, I'm not from US and I do not know how the foster system works, as well as group therapy

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The walk from the therapy place to the Sullivans’ house was short, shorter than Penny would want. Although they weren’t as bad as Skip and the Preachy couple, those were very low standards to go by. Mr. Sullivan basically ignored her while Mrs. Sullivan just talked to her to hand her the chore list and on her first day to explain the rules. She didn’t like them, but to be honest she liked no one.

The thought sink deep, she misses Ned and MJ. The three of them along with Peter were inseparable before May’s dead, before having to move around the city, jumping from one foster house to another. She didn’t miss a single grown-up. She had stopped trusting adults a long time ago; the only adults she once trusted were either six feet under ground or made something to harm her. Ned and MJ told them, Penny and Peter, to trust their social worker, because she was in charge of them and was the one that would take care of them. Surprise, she care about nothing besides her paycheck.

She tried to clear her head, even if the Sullivans hadn’t made a move to touch her, in anyway, she still tried not mad something to made them angry. Besides what Penny wanted for people to see, she still was scare. Scare of her foster parents, scare of finding Skip or the Preachys, more so that her foster parents turn out to be like Skip or the Preachys. If someone ask her what would be preferable, she will say neither, but she knew that was impossible; another Mr. and Mrs. Preachy would be better. Not only because she was terrified of even thinking about her time with Skip, but also because this time the Peter in the equation will be a Penny. Entering the household, she said a quit good evening before going to her room. There weren’t any other children on the house, so she got a room for herself. She left her things, hiding her brother’s ashes under a tab. A month after Peter’s dead, her social worker has come in and began searching for the ashes, tired of Penny carrying around; she didn’t find nothing because Penny already hide it constantly. Now she was very careful not to let them alone and had them with her at all time. She also wasn’t shy to tell them how they took her brother from her and now they want to take his ashes, the only consolation she has left.

She went down to the kitchen, one of the infinite list of chores was to make breakfast, when needed, lunch and dinner. She try to do everything without annoying anyone, she was already on thin ice, and pissing her foster parents won’t do anything to help her.

Looking up to the living room, where Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan were, she wondered what bad she had done in another life to deserve this. At first, she hadn’t believed in bad luck, or any luck at all, but now, there was no other logical explanation for her awful life, in her opinion, everything had gone downside the moment her family left London, her beloved Great Britain and arrived at the United States. They should have never boarded that plane. She tried to concentrate on the food and not in the What If’s. They would change anything, what is done is done. What would change anything was if she were stupid enough to burn the food.

Next Wednesday was awful. First, her school tormentor, Flash, decided it was good to make fun of her the most today of all day, as if therapy wasn’t enough. His teasing was mostly innocent, mostly about her accent and her dead parents, which was a long time ago, so it was relatively okay, and her accent was something she was used to as she moved to New York at five and her accent has never decrease. Today was different, today Peter was the main source and Perter was still a delicate spot for her. Flash knew Peter, but the details of his death were left for her to be tell and she wasn’t about to do it, not to him. So school was hell, and her day was about to get worst.

When she arrived at the therapy building, she entered immediately, finding the Avengers already seated. She took her own sit between Black Widow and Iron Man. Tyler was nowhere to be find and the tension could be felt in the air.

Obviously, it had to be Captain Righteous who had to speak about the vents of last week.

“Listing, kid.” If this was an apology, this wasn’t a good beginning. “I know it was wrong f me to judge you the other day, but you had to understand that you were really good to the mediator the other day.” Now that was the worst apology she had ever received, note that she had receive a very bad one about putting her with a murderer and a rapist before.

As it turns out, his team members also thought that wasn’t the best apology. “Really, Steve?” And that was Natasha Romanoff.

Tony Stark decided to make the next remark. “Hate it to break it for you, Capsicle, but just because you put the word sorry in a sentence doesn’t mean that will be an apology.”

“Let me get something clear, Captain Righteous.” Penny sometimes wonders why she can’t keep her mouth close. “The other day you made a mistake of judging me without knowing what I had been through, now you know that my last foster parent, Mr. Preachy, abused me and my brother to the point where he kill my brother, throwing him to the wall, after hitting him repeatedly and then continue to hit him even though he was already dead.” Now, Penny didn’t cry, but her voice broke at the end. “If I decided to be rude, as you say, to Tyler that is because he was the person that certificated that asshole to be a foster parent and as you can hear he was a shitty foster parent. He fail to protect me more than once.” Rogers was just looking at her. “You know shit about me, you know nothing about what has happened to me and what made me hate people. I don’t treat social workers bad just because I want to, I treat social workers bad because some of them just want to place kids on fosters homes so they can receive a commission without caring about the child in question. So, you can go and put that apology down your ass because I don’t want it until you learn how to deliver a proper one.” Barton, Rogers, and Banner looked shook, Romanoff looked neutral, while the others just had an amused face at Rogers misfortune. “Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t judge people you don’t know or even better don’t judge people without knowing if they have a past that mad them the type of person they are.” The last part was a full hate scream, she had enough people judging her that knew what happened, the last thing she needs was to people to judge her without even knowing. “I don’t need to ask forgiveness for being the person I have become when the people that made possible for me to turn into this never ask me for it.” She look at Steve Rogers straight in the eyes and the man just shiver under her gaze. That girl was terrifying.

He wanted to say something, but before he could, Tyler came in. Tyler being the idiot he was, didn’t notice the tension that could be feel in the room, and continue to introduce the session topic. Penny didn’t participate in today’s activity; she was tired and simply ignore Tyler when he ask her to participate. He let it go, probably to not make a scene like last week. Although she acted like she didn’t pay attention, she did notice the Avengers looking at her, especially Captain Rogers. She hoped they didn’t try to approach her.

Tony Stark wasn’t someone you could impress easily, but when he saw that little girl that seemed like a breeze could destroy her, shouting at Steve, he really was impressed. With honestly, he thought Steve deserved it, after the incident of last session the others try to convince him to apologies and they thought they had succeeded, but they didn’t. Steve’s apology was crap, and he deserved to be put on his place. He wasn’t just impressed by this girl; he was also curious. Penny obviously had a dark past that she try to put behind. Her dead brother was something, the fact that somehow, she had ended in the foster system was another thing, but in between all those things she said to Rogers, she did say this Tyler guy fail her more than once. One time was obviously him placing her and her brother with those foster parents, but the others? Where the other foster parents that hurt her? He didn’t think she had other siblings that die. It could be anything, abuse, neglection or without having to go very far, the girl deserved loving parents, not some decent one, good ones. He would like to think that, that the guy’s mistake was just placing her with decent parents and not good ones, not that it was okay, but seeing this girls history and how much she flinched when she thought no one was looking, Tony thinks that he would be making a right assumption when saying the worst had happened. You name it, punches, starvation, rape? As he said it could be anything.

Contrary to his nature, he decided not to search the girl´s history. That was what therapy was about, right? Maybe at one moment she would open up and if he made any signal that he already knew whatever had happened, she would trust any of them. He knows Penny would notice; he had met the girl in 2 occasions, and he notice she was as observant as Natasha. Another sign of an abuse child.

Finally, the session had ended. He hated those; he was only there because it was required by the government so they could be a team again. He notice the girl didn’t make a move to participate and she also ignore Tyler when he tried to make her say something, so when they were out and Steve started to walk towards her, he tried to stop him. To no one’s surprise Capsicle didn’t care.

Penny lift her eyes from her phone, when Steve was in front on her, eyeing him suspiciously and taking a few steps back. Tony suppressed a flinch, another sign of an abuse child, rejection of nearness.

He began talking before she could go away. “Penny, I just wanted to say how sorry I am. You are right, I don’t know you or what you’ve been through. I’m sorry I judge you, your actions and attitude. It was something unfair from me.” She looked unfazed. Steve let out and sigh and looked at her with an ashamed expression. “Just wanted you to know that I’m really sorry.”

He began walking towards the Avengers when Penny talked. “Thanks.” She look at Steve at the eyes and then she walked away from them, the acceptance to Steve’s apology clear.

Natasha move to stand next to Steve. “That went well.” Then Sam decided to make an apparition. “Can we just talk how terrifying that girl is? Like, man, can she be intimidating if she wants to.”

Tony was the next in the line of let’s tease Cap. “Spangles, that girl looked like she could be carried by a breeze and yet she managed to shut your mouth. I don’t think any of us ever managed to do that.”

Steve just look around, not amuse, and say under his breath. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” And with that all of them began walking to the car. Tony had the feeling this girl will shake their lives.

Penny woke up to the familiar weight over her, Skip was here. She tried to suppress her whimpers, so he didn’t know she was awake; he made her participate when she notice she was, and she already felt dirty enough as it was. Peter had died 3 moths ago, and it was in days like today that she missed him the most. He would have done something; he wouldn’t paralyzed like she did. If that weren’t true at least she would have a companion.

“C’mon Einstein, I know you’re awake” His voice made her have nausea. She wondered how she was so stupid to trust him.

She began sobbing, begging for him to stop. Aunt May always told her and Peter that if they didn’t like something, they had to tell them to stop; she was doing that, why wasn’t Skip stopping? She wanted Peter, her Aunt, Uncle, and her parents. She wanted to be happy again. She wanted to go back to London where she knew the foster System was better. She wanted to go back in time to when her parents were alive and so was Peter. At least, she begged in her mind, let me have Peter with me.

As Skip continue doing what he was doing, she look at him through the tears in her eyes. No, Skip wouldn’t stop because of Peter, he would probably do the same that he was doing to her. She couldn’t be that selfish, Peter was dead, murder by the hands of a monster. The only lucky thing was that he didn’t met a worst monster. She would get over it, she would rise, and this will be just a bump. She will get over this, she always did.

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