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starwarsmum · 3 months ago

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Chapter 7 of Introducing: Mousinette 🥰 Moving to Gotham

In spite of having tried to plan a celebration with everyone for their BAC results, Marinette was the only one in their group who had not yet turned eighteen. And so, Lila had convinced the group that the club she had dragged them to would allow Marinette in if she gave her name at the door, regardless of their over-eighteens only policy.

Trying not to get overly worked up, she apologised to the bouncer at the club, messaging Alya to say that she was going to find somewhere to hang out for the next hour or so before heading home. She didn't expect a message back - the club had sounded unreasonably loud and Lila had a way of making Alya think that Marinette was tardier than she ever was these days.

She also pulled up her messages to Chloe and Adrien, venting her frustrations about their friendship group. Chloe messaged back immediately, saying that she was welcome to come to the hotel and spend time with her and Kagami, but Marinette declined. She knew the girls had not been able to go on a proper date in a while and didn't want to crash it.

After ninety minutes with no messages, Marinette paid for another coffee to go, and left the diner she had made camp in. It was a gorgeous evening, the streetlights twinkling along the Seine and various groups of people having fun. She stayed on well lit streets, enjoying the buoyant mood around her as she walked home.

Once home, she crept quietly upstairs, trying not to wake her parents. Sighing in relief when she made it to her room, she switched on her laptop and dropped a message to Barbara. Having cancelled their regular catch up, Marinette didn't expect to get a response, so was pleasantly surprised when a video call lit up her screen.

“Hey Babs,” she said quietly, leaning back in her bed and picking up an embroidery hoop. “I thought you would be busy since I cancelled on you. I was really only messaging to let you know I was home safe after the night flopped.”

“Hey Mari! Well, it's not just me tonight I'm afraid, I have visitors. Dick and Steph both came over to keep me company,” Barbara replied enthusiastically, and the other two popped their faces in to say hi. “But how come you're home so early?��

So Marinette gave a brief recount of her evening, laughing a little at Dick's affronted expression. When she had finished, she felt a little better for having vented, and so was stabbing her embroidery needle slightly less viciously. “But nothing new, I should have seen this coming when Alya suggested somewhere new. And I bet Lila manages to twist this against me somehow.”

“Wow, she sounds like a bitch,” Steph said offhandedly, although she looked annoyed. “Babe, if you need us to bring the smackdown, please just tell us. I will steal Bruce's jet and be there as soon as humanly possible to set people straight. Hell, I'll even bring the Demon with me to hammer it home if I have to.”

Giggling at the thought, Marinette beamed at the blonde woman. She looked back down and finished a particularly tricky part of the embroidery before looking back at them all. “Oh my God, did I tell you that she lies about being besties with Tim and Damian? I swear she's a compulsive liar, I'm not sure I've ever heard her tell the truth, except for the times she's threatened me,” she added, almost thoughtfully.

“Hold up, she did what?” Dick said, looking even more concerned, if it was possible. He was typing furiously into his phone, typing, Marinette assumed, a message to Tim. “What's this girl's name? I know she can't possibly know Damian, because Damian has exactly one friend, but Tim really needs to shut this down if she's using his name for clout.”

“It's Lila Rossi, but she's not using it for clout per se, she's just using it to make our terrifyingly gullible classmates worship the ground she walks on. I'm not really sure what she gets out of it, other than irritating me and making ‘friends’,” she said, making sure they knew she didn't think they were really friends if she was lying to get them. “But it really doesn't matter, it's the end of June and I move to Gotham mid July. At which point, I don't have to deal with her anymore, plus I get to live some of the lies she tells.”

“It's still not cool, so I'm just giving Tim her name in case it crops up at some point. But she just lies? And nobody calls her out? Hell, I should get Tim to do a French press release just for this, she's clearly a menace to society. Just let us know if we need to do anything for you, we will shut it down,” Dick promised, which made Marinette smile.

“You'd have to get in line behind Jagged,” she admitted ruefully, chuckling at their confused expressions. “That was the first lie, she said she saved Jagged's kitten, as if he's ever had something as tame as a kitten, and she still says she's close with him. It's how she's got them believing half of what she says now. But I really don't want to talk about it any more. If I let her take up space in my brain, she wins.”

The other three begrudgingly accepted this, moving the conversation on to Marinette's impending relocation to the States. The conversation continued, touching briefly on Marinette's birthday plans. Marinette admitted that she didn't plan on doing much, as she would be too busy packing, but her parents were taking her and a few friends to a fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Actually moving from Paris to Gotham was an experience, one Marinette felt she could maybe have lived without. She had found a nice apartment, it had a main bedroom, living area with kitchenette, and a spare room, where she planned on putting her commission work. Moving all of her sewing equipment had been a hassle, and she needed to get extra furniture before she could set it up.

Fortunately, she had gotten herself ahead of her commissions and the space at Wayne Enterprises was all set for her work there. It meant that she could take a day or so to visit thrift stores and find a serviceable workbench or desk, as well as hit the local fabric stores for materials.

But for that night, she wanted to settle into the place, find somewhere secure to store the Miracle Box and sleep. She forced herself to order some takeout and eat it, but then she went through her nightly routine. Her room was at the top of the building, slightly cheaper because you could sometimes hear the vigilantes of Gotham pounding across the roof, but she wasn't really one for waking up to that kind of noise. Tikki would wake her if it was dangerous, but she often slept through most everything.

She found it relatively easy to fall asleep, and Tikki was nestled away on top of the Box. She didn't really remember dreaming at first, but she did jolt awake at 2am, having had a nightmare about Chat Blanc. Even though they were well past the issue, when she was disrupted she found her anxiety liked to bring that particular memory out for a spin.

Sighing and moving quietly, so as not to wake Tikki, and not to annoy her downstairs neighbours, she crept over to her kitchenette. After taking a long drink of cold water from the filter in her refrigerator, she felt the urge to step outside. She listened intently for a moment but couldn't hear footsteps, so she slid the window open and stepped onto the fire escape.

Moving lightly, she slid onto the roof, breathing in the cooler air. It was a warm night and the apartment trapped heat like crazy. She didn't have a trap door to let the heat out, so having access to the roof was nice. Knowing that she was in Gotham, she kept her guard up, which means she wasn't overly surprised when someone stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the roof.

“Bonjour,” she said, smiling up at Robin as he moved towards her. She refused to be intimidated by his silence, and turned back to the skyline view from the edge.

Damian paused, unsure of how to deal with the sudden reappearance of the woman who had changed his behaviour so much, without even being present. He had been prepared to run into her in the office, even to meet her at the university, but during his time as a vigilante? And out on the rooftops, instead of during a mugging, or worse.

“Are you not sketching tonight?” He cringed internally at his abruptness, but outwardly he was cool and curious. She shrugged lightly, peering at him sideways. He could tell she remembered their previous encounter, and he had often wondered how she saw him. It wasn't often he interacted with civilians in both of his identities, and he found himself wondering how they compared.

They stood together in silence for a few minutes before she stepped over to the fire escape again, without saying a word. He quashed the disappointment that welled within him, watching as her head vanished from sight. He stood, immobile for several moments, and was about to retreat back to his perch when she reappeared.

“I'm afraid I don't have anything homemade today, but I did pick up a pack of cookies on my way here,” she said, apparently in explanation. He cocked his head at her, confused. She blushed a little, turning her back on the city to sit upon the ledge. “In Paris, when we had an active supervillain, the heroes would stop by my balcony on occasion, and I would provide a place to rest. Unfortunately, I do not have a balcony here, and I only moved in this afternoon, so I could not bake anything. But if you plan to be here regularly, I can leave some food out. It has always seemed hungry work, being a hero.”

“Vigilante,” he said automatically, leaning forward onto his forearms against the ledge she perched upon. “And whilst I appreciate the sentiment, I am not fond of sweets, particularly mass produced and packaged.”

“Alright,” she shrugged again, taking one for herself and closing the packet. She didn't say anything more, staying close to him without ever crowding him. As it ticked over to 3am, he excused himself, unmuting his comm and letting the team know that he was returning to base. He could feel her eyes on him as he leapt from building to building.

The next time he returned to the rooftop, he was curious as to whether she would be there. It was sooner than he thought it would be, not even a full week later. The roof was empty and he allowed himself to deliberately scuff his boots to make noise. It was just past midnight, early in his usual patrol but the previous night had seen them bust a particularly heinous trafficking ring. The nights following ones like that were notoriously quiet, so he saw no harm in situating himself on an innocuous rooftop and waiting to respond to any threats.

He saw her head peek over the top of the ledge, and her face brightened into a smile as she spotted him. His comm was already muted, most of the team recovering from minor scrapes and the remainder being in no mood to socialise during their individual patrols. Grayson was patrolling the other side of town, but the comm was silent from his usual prattle.

He eyed the plate in Marinette's hand as she approached him and went to remind her that he did not eat sweets often when she gave him a quiet greeting. He felt wrong footed, as though she were following a script and he hadn't been given any notes. Rather than perch where she had last time, she came over to his own perch and settled onto the roof rather than the ledge.

“I know you don't normally eat sweets, so I made some mini quiches and cheese twists,” she said when she was fully settled. He hesitated again, unsure if he should eat anything. He would never normally accept food from a civilian during patrol, but ordinarily he would not have spoken with her either.

When he did accept one, she seemed to brighten considerably, and began chattering about her day, how she had gone into her new job’s building and made a great deal of progress on her work. He already knew she was working at Wayne Enterprises, so he didn't make any outward reaction when she mentioned Drake as her boss.

“So you have always helped your city's heroes by providing nourishment?” He wanted to learn more about the Parisian heroes and her relationship with them seemed the easiest way to breach that topic. “Did they not find you suspicious?”

“Do you find me suspicious?” He would have thought her pretending to be coy if he couldn't hear a genuine sort of surprise to the question. When he didn't say anything, she continued. “Huh, well, no, I guess they didn't. It was mostly Chat Noir who visited me, and we met because I was being targeted by one of the akuma…”

As she launched into a description of her experience with someone called the Evillustrator, he watched her, fascinated by how emotive she was to this version of him. He asked questions as she spoke, and she answered eagerly. He wondered if she had spoken to anyone else about her experiences with heroes.

It startled him when Grayson called for help in his sector, and he hastily said goodbye to Marinette before launching into the night, confirming that he was on his way. He wondered, after the threat was dealt with, whether he would see her on the roof again.

_ _ _

She hadn't intended to befriend the vigilante that frequented her rooftop, but that's what had happened. Sometimes she would be up there already, working on designs, sometimes she would wake when he was stationed above and come to join him. Other times, she would be awake when his feet scuffed the rooftop and she would make her way up. She shared a lot about her time in Paris, finding it easier to talk about her old friends, the villains, and Lila, without worrying that he would dismiss her. It also helped having an outside perspective, something she couldn't get from anyone else.

It was a slightly dreary evening at the end of summer when she began to talk about her plans for the coming academic year. She was huddled closer to him than usual, using him to shield herself from the light rain. She felt a rush of affection for him, not dissimilar to how she would feel as Ladybug, interacting with Chat Noir.

“I just can't believe I have to start classes soon,” she mused, flicking open an app on her phone with her schedule. “I might not be up on the roof as often, but I can leave snacks out in plastic boxes. And I'll try to come out, once a month at least. You're probably the only friend other than Babs that I've made since getting here.”

“What about your employer? I had thought you were on good terms with him,” he said quietly, apparently trying to hide a smile. “And you are sure to make friends in your classes. It is more likely that you will stop coming up here because you have a more filled social calendar, is it not?”

“Hmmm, I don't think so. My understanding is that the first year of university is to be social, but I have already locked myself into a job that will take up so much of my free time, and I have a scholarship to maintain. No, I think it more likely that you will get bored of quiet nights on the roof once the weather changes,” she said ruefully. “And that is a shame, because you are surprisingly good company. When I talk to Babs about the vigilantes,” she missed the panic that flashed across his face, “she says that Nightwing is known to be chatty, Red Robin is some kind of super genius, Red Hood is violent and you are supposedly very prickly.”

“You talk to your friend about these visits?” He sounded confused, maybe a little concerned and she waved her hands emphatically.

“Oh, no, absolutely not. She already worries about me living alone on the top apartment of a complex, I don't want her to know I regularly go onto the roof, alone save for dubiously grouchy vigilantes,” she teased, smiling again. When he nodded, she thought she spotted some relief, which made her wonder if he usually was prickly, but she had somehow earned his friendship.

“Well, perhaps you will befriend more dubiously grouchy people,” he said, sounding amused. She hummed thoughtfully, thinking of another dark haired boy, one who was genuinely grouchy. “Or perhaps you will attract rays of sunshine. Or more people like your unfortunate nemesis, Lila.”

“God, I hope not,” she groaned, looking out at the cityscape again. “If I come across another one of her, I'm calling bull. Did I ever tell you she lies about knowing the upper echelons of Gotham? Claims to be besties with the Waynes, which I know for a fact is a lie, because I asked Tim outright. And if she's friends with Damian, they deserve each other,” she finished sourly.

“You have a problem with the youngest Wayne?” He asked, voice rumbling quietly. She hesitated, wishing she'd minded her tongue - she made an effort not to badmouth any of her acquaintances to him, not knowing who he was or who he knew.

“I wouldn't say I have a problem, per se. He's kind of stuck up, which should be expected, being from money. Like my friend Chloe, she was awful to grow up with and her dad was mayor of Paris. But he's an adult and was just so dismissive of me, right when we first met. Which, fine, I don't need to be friends with everyone, but he's both my boss's little brother and a sort of brother to my friend Babs, so I wanted to get on with him. If I had more time and energy, I might've tried to wear him down, but I'm in a new city, I have work and I have classes.”

“Well, if he was foolish enough to treat you poorly without reason, he will probably give you space. But if you are worried about it for your friends’ sake, perhaps you could extend an olive branch. Perhaps he was having a bad day when you met.”

“The next time I spent one on one time with him, he called me short and childish,” she said flatly, once again missing the contrite look that crossed his face. “He also said that cooking was easy, even though he's never tried it, and that moving out of his manor was beneath him. But forget that, I'm running my mouth when I shouldn't. It happens when I'm nervous, and the idea of starting university in a completely different country is scary.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Marinette was relieved she hadn't ruined things by ranting about her not-problems. When she eventually went inside, she went straight to bed, and slept through until morning.

#maribat #mlb x dc #damianette #damian x marinette #daminette #eventual daminette #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #dc x mlb #chapter 7 #introducing: mousinette

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gamequoteshowdown · 1 year ago

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Thank you everyone for making this happen! Now, without further ado, the match-ups for Round 1!!!

Round 1

"I've been waiting for this!" - Akihiko Sanada, Persona 3 / "You're just a corpse who doesn't know he's dead" - Valter, Fire Emblem: Sacred Stones

"Are you going to be our goddess of victory… or our angel of death? Doesn't sound too bad to bet my life on that." - Keiji Shinogi, Your Turn To Die: Death Game by Majority / "Don't fuck with a witch!" - Bayonetta, Bayonetta

"Teammates!? Friends!? To hell with that! Why am I inferior to you!? I was extremely particular about my life, my grades, my public image! So someone would want me around! I am an ace detective! A celebrity! But you… You're just some criminal trash living in an attic!? So how!? How does someone like you have things I don't!? How can such a worthless piece of trash be more special than me!?" - Goro Akechi, Persona 5 / "I was just gunna ask you to sell a gun to this child." - Starlo, Undertale Yellow

"I want you to live." - Charlotte Wiltshire, Hello Charlotte Series / "Your hair… sunset colored. I like it." - Queequeg, Limbus Company

"The hope to end pointless conflict… The hope to tell your daughter how much you care… It is our mission as apothecaries to ensure that everyone lives long enough for their hopes to become reality. Even if it costs us our own lives." - Castti Florenz, Octopath Traveler II / "Game is clear when 2 zombies hold hands!!" - "How to Play" Narrator, Loving Deads: The House of the Dead EX

"Thanks to you, I am saddled with unnecessary… feelings" - Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "I am so fucking normal right now" - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

“SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IS GOING TO HAPPEN” - Harry du Bois (in the form as a potential mural painting), Disco Elysium / "You pull out your cellphone and access your old Tumblr. You have ten, but you specifically access the Garfield one." - Narrator, Monster Prom

"… Nice meeting you again, you FUCKING WHALE!" - Ishmael, Limbus Company / "My guess is no one's ever loved you before" - Woody, Kingdom Hearts 3

"Take care, [player]. I was lucky to have known you. Though the parting hurts... the rest is in your hands!" - Grovyle, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky / "Far out, man." - Netzach, Limbus Company

"I'll be back once I eliminate that devil called poverty from the world!" - Partitio Yellowil, Octopath Traveler II / "Elder gods from the whole cosmos have awoken to taste your cookies." - Narrator, Cookie Clicker

"Hello! This is the part where I kill you!" - Wheatley, Portal 2 / "Now we come to the question : Do I kill you? Do I tear you apart to my heart's delight? The choices of the beautiful are unbearable. How's a girl to choose?" - Alice Angel, Bendy and the Ink Machine

"I am Ferdinand von Aegir" - Ferdinand von Aegir, Fire Emblem: Three Houses / "Her metabolic processes are of interest only to historians." - Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations

"It ain't a matter of guys or chicks... I'm just scared shitless of being rejected" - Kanji Tatsumi, Persona 4 / "...also Stanley is addicted to drugs and hookers" - Narrator, The Stanley Parable

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” - Happy Mask Salesman, Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask / "I have no idea what to do with my life, but that's okay! Because I'm still working hard! Even if it's on nothing at all!" - Papyrus, Undertale

"Despite everything, its still you." - Narrator/Chara/Frisk???, Undertale / "In this world, it's kill or be killed." - Flowey, Undertale

“Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves…” - Voices of the Paranoid, Slay the Princess / "In the quiet glade, across old bark. In the ancient glade, it's always dark." - Gabbro, Outer Wilds

"You take away all their sins, and people aren't people anymore!" - Rokurou Rangetsu, Tales of Berseria / "Do you even get how it feels to have nightmares about doing tango with raw chickens? Eh?" - Heathcliff, Limbus Company

"Life is worth living, even if it hurts you, even if you hurt in it." - Solid Snake, Metal Gear Solid / "I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if we'll ever get the chance to kill him." - 2B, Nier: Automata

“Oh? Is that how it is? Yeah, okay, I like you too. Neat! Still going to kill you, but now we can both enjoy a mutual romantic subtext to the murder.” - The Razor, Slay the Princess / "Now it’s Reyn Time!" - Reyn, Xenoblade Chronicles

"You lost the coin toss. We both did." - Catherine Chun, SOMA / "I like to drink blood. . . and smoke the weed!" - Dracula, Space Funeral

"Pick a god and pray!" - Frederick, Fire Emblem: Awakening / "Can you believe it? Dragons! In your own homeland! What are you going to do?" - Florentia Candidius, Elder Scrolls Online

""Did you get the Broom Closet Ending?! The Broom Closet Ending was my favourite!" ...I hope your friends find this concerning." - Narrator, The Stanley Parable / "It’s dangerous to go alone, take this!" - Old Man, Legend of Zelda

“Close your eyes for a sec, will you Chigasaki?” “You mean physically? Or to the criminal acts I’m pretty sure you’re about to commit?” “Both.” - Chikage Utsuki & Itaru Chigasaki, A3! Act! Addict! Actors! / "You are all about to perish, do as you please. I'm sorry." - Meta Knight, Kirby Super Star

"Boy" - Kratos, God of War / "Take care of yourself, kid, cause someone really cares about you." - Sans, Undertale

"Almost Christmas means it wasn't Christmas!" - Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "Dios mío!” (Draw a cross.) “A LIBERAL!" - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

"That's it. I'm not paying one cent of my taxes!" - Ema Skye, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / ""Trust your partner"... And I do. I can't forgive you, but I trust you." - Neku Sakuraba, The World Ends With You/Subarashiki Kono Sekai

"Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." - Ralof, Skyrim / *clap ... clap ... clap ... * "Oh good, my slow clap processor made it into this thing, so at least we have that" - GLaDOS, Portal 2

"hallOO. chikkEN. OKs?" - BOb, Slime Rancher / "Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest—" - Charles Calvin, The Henry Stickmin Collection

"Blood comes in four types: A, B, O, and AB. However! No blood test can determine whether a murder was committed… in cold blood!" - Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "You ain't my partner anymore, man. You're my friend! So trus' that, yo!" - Beat (Daisukenojo "Beat" Bito), The World Ends With You/Subarashiki Kono Sekai

"I always come back." - William Afton, FNaF Pizzeria Simulator / "So -- as you can see, I'm a *pretty okay* detective -- and an absolutely GIANT COMMUNIST." - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

"Ears have a nice mouth feel, very chewy!" - Briar, League of Legends / "This is like taking candy from a baby, which is fine by me." - Shadow the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)

"It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... On days like this, kids like you... Should be burning in hell." - Sans, Undertale / "In the dark times, should the stars also go out?" - Steban, the Student Communist, Disco Elysium

“We are a path in the woods. We have no beginning, and we have no end, but something cold and unnatural sits watching us from just beyond our edge.” - The Wild, Slay the Princess / "Strong Pokémon. Weak Pokémon. That is only the selfish perception of people. Truly skilled Trainers should try to win with the Pokémon they love best." - Karen (Elite Four), Pokemon HeartGold / SoulSilver

#not polls #round 1 #tumblr tournament

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shipperqueen93 · 1 year ago

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Twice Upon a Dream pt 2

Yes I know this chapter took forever to get out but I had motivation problems. Hopefully the next few chapters wont take as long. In the last chapter Ruby had a conversation with Mal about Belle and Gold. In this chapter Belle and Gold finally are forced to interact. Shout out to @ishtarelisheba for beta'ing this for me because I hate commas. Also to @ripperblackstaff for the original prompt.

Fingers raking through her hair, tugging and pulling her closer. Kisses that made her head fuzzy and knees weak. Her own hands fisted in his silk shirt and worked the tie knotted at his throat. The rasp of his stubble as he kissed along the length of her throat. Finally, she got his tie undone with a noise of triumph that brought forth a chuckle from Cameron.

His voice was pure sin as whispered against her throat, “Eager, sweet Belle?”

Belle.

Belle!

“Belle!”

Belle snapped out of her daydream as an ice cube pelted her in the forehead. Wiping the water from her eyes, she glared over at Emma, who just grinned back innocently and flicked the water from her hand at her.

“Have a good dream?” Emma asked with a smirk.

She and Emma had met up at their favorite coffee cart to wait for Ruby to get out of class. The three of them were supposed to head to Granny’s for dinner, but Ruby’s class was running late. The two of them had been chatting when Emma got a call and she stepped away. Alone, Belle’s thoughts had begun to drift, and like they had many times since her dream in the library, her thoughts drifted back.

“If you must know, I was thinking about the paper I have to write for Midas. It's due Monday and I’m only half done with it.” Belle lied through her teeth and, based on Emma’s expression, her friend knew it, too.

Belle didn’t like lying, especially not to her friends, but she wasn’t going to admit that she was having yet another inappropriate dream about her professor. Emma was one of her closest friends, but that was something she was keeping to herself. She hadn’t even told Ruby about that night at the library. It was one thing to have a crush on a teacher. It was another thing completely to repeatedly envision said teacher fucking you seven ways from Sunday.

Just thinking about her dream had her face heating, but thankfully, Emma’s phone gave a chirp, drawing the blonde’s attention. Emma was just as good as Ruby, if not better, at reading people and figuring out what was on their mind. She claimed that her superpower was that she could tell when someone was lying, so all the better that she was distracted and couldn’t call Belle out on her shit.

While Emma tapped out a message to whoever had texted her, Belle glanced around the university grounds. Not far away, Ana and Will were sitting together, Ana’s head on his shoulder as she read some book. Out on the grass, Mulan was slowly going through some of her wushu forms as Aurora attempted to copy her, the two of them laughing as Aurora stumbled and fell flat on the ground. Over by the small fountain, Ariel -a classmate of Ruby’s- and a dark haired man Belle vaguely recalled seeing in the back of a few of her lit classes were awkwardly flirting. Everywhere she looked there were couples, or almost couples, just basking in each other's presence. Hell, going by the dopey smile Emma had worn earlier when her phone rang, Belle would bet that it had been from her own, secret , partner. A small, bitter, part of her now understood why villains in fairy tales wanted to destroy the happiness of the protagonistic couple. Her lack of a love life, combined with her new reoccurring daydreams, was making her as bitter as a lonely old spinster.

When her own phone chimed, it was a welcome respite from the thoughts banging around in her head. Though it seemed the universe seemed fit to laugh at her as the object of her thoughts was brought to the forefront once more.

Cameron’s name flashed across her phone screen along with his text message. “I must see you in my office. Immediately.”

A puzzled frown crossed her face as she reread the message. Cameron had barely paid her any attention since she had returned, let alone texted her. The last text she had received from him was back during her illness, when she had reached out expressing her utter boredom, and he had replied back with a simple, “Get well.” She had excused it then, as she knew he was not fond of text messaging. She hadn’t put much stock in his quiet at the time, but given how things had changed between them since, she could view it in a different light. Which made his message all the more confusing.

“Ruby said she’s on her way. She mentioned going to the Rabbit Hole tonight, and she wants to know if you are in.” Emma’s voice cut through her thoughts once more. It seemed the person she had been texting hadn’t been her own, not so secret lover, but instead Ruby.

Gesturing vaguely to her phone, Belle shook her head. “Apparently Professor Gold needs to see me. I’ll have to meet up with you at Granny’s afterwards,” Belle stated as she started gathering her things.

Emma raised an eyebrow but gave a shrug. “Tell the bastard hi from me.”

Belle rolled her eyes. She knew that Emma and Cameron had an interesting relationship, to say the least, but there was a mutual respect there. “I’m sure he’ll be so pleased.”

Emma gave an amused huff but waved her away.

The trip to Cameron’s office wasn’t long, and soon she was walking down the familiar hall. She passed Walter, one of the janitors, who gave her a sleepy wave and smile as he steered his floor scrubbing machine. When she got to Cameron’s office, she was surprised to see the door ajar, as he didn’t really keep an ‘open door’ policy. However, before she could question it much further, she heard his voice coming from down the hall in Mal’s office. Shaking her head, she let herself into the office. So much for needing to see her immediately.

Given the new dynamic of their relationship, Belle hadn’t spent much time in the office since her return, but it was clear that not much had changed. Papers were still littered over his desk, books piled on every flat surface, a cup of cold tea sat next to the keyboard just waiting to be knocked over. Habit had her taking the cup and moving it to the other side of the desk, finger tracing the familiar chip. The first time she had seen him drinking from the cup after she had broken it, she had assumed he was mocking her, but over time, she realized it was more than that. Though Cam never explained exactly what it was, it was clear the cup held some special meaning to him. She had liked to believe it was because that moment was a change in how he saw her, but given their current relationship, she was no longer sure that was the case.

“Miss French? What are you doing here?” Cam spoke from behind her.

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

It had been a long day, and all Cameron Gold wanted to do was finish grading his papers and go home. He swore students got dumber each year - that could be the only excuse for the absolute drivel he was reading. To his great dismay, Gary Aston was taking his American Legal History class, and it was clear that lummox had used a thesaurus on every other word and hadn’t even bothered with spell check.

Cameron had been on the second of three pages when Mal had asked for his help. More accurately, she had shouted his name down the hall they shared until he cursed and made his way to her office. She sat at her desk, reading through some papers, and he could tell by the look of her that she was pissed. He sat down in the chair across from her desk, resting his hands on the top of his cane.

“What happened now, Mallory? Did Ingrid take the Espresso Swirl off the menu again?” Cameron asked, easily dodging the purple pen that was thrown his way.

“Cameron, I swear to God, I am not in the mood to deal with your bullshit. Shut up,” Mal sniped back.

She didn’t even look up at him as she reached the last page of the papers she was reading. Questioning why he put up with her antics, Cameron sat back and waited for her to get to the point of why she shouted him down.

When she seemingly finished reading the papers, she cursed and tossed them at him. “Look at this! Regina has to be out of her mind if she thinks I’m signing this.”

Ah, it was contract time again. His own contract was relatively simple, due to his tenured status. However, Mal had not reached that status yet, and her contracts tended to have more variance year to year.

Giving Mal a small smirk, he held the contract back to her, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone as he spoke. “Mal, you should be reviewing this with Ingrid, not me. Plus, what would Regina think?” He ducked as a highlighter flew at his head. “You’re lucky this is better than what I was reading before.”

He spent the next thirty minutes reviewing the minutiae of her contract, which honestly was a nice break from the eye bleeding essays he had been reading. If nothing else, bantering with Mal was a distraction from his thoughts. Thoughts of a certain brunette, blue-eyed Australian who was driving him crazy.

Ever since that damned dream, he hadn’t had a moment of peace. Every time he closed his eyes, he relived it in all its vivid details. The taste of her, sweet as strawberries, how smooth her skin was, the little noises she made as she moved against him, how incredible she felt around him. All of it was driving him insane. And then he would remember that it was a dream, a highly inappropriate dream, and if Belle knew what thoughts he was having, she’d be horrified and disgusted by him. He was her professor, a mentor. At one point, he might have even considered them friends, but that was as far as it was supposed to go. There was no way she saw him as he saw her, and he wouldn’t delude himself into thinking that would change.

So he stayed away from her, or at least maintained the same distance he did with all his graduate students under his advisement. He kept to his office hours, kept their meetings to their scheduled time frames, pretended he was busy when she would stop by. He even treated Jones to lunch once to escape her. He hated it. He was miserable, and according to Mal, he was being a right bastard. The worst part? It still didn’t help.

Every night, he was plagued by dreams of brown hair, blue eyes, and an accent he couldn’t get out of his mind. He would wake up achingly hard with the phantom scent of strawberries driving him insane. Even doing everything he could to minimize their contact during his waking hours did nothing to stop his fantasies from tormenting when he slept. In his dreams, Belle wanted him, she loved him, and was as eager for him as he was for her. Clearly, his brain hadn’t gotten the memo that he was supposed to be getting over this obsession.

When he finished advising Mal - or rather, listening to her bitch about where Regina could shove her contract - he made the trek back to his office. Focusing his mind on getting through the rest of the essays he had been reviewing, he vaguely noticed Walter cursing at his floor scrubber as he passed by. When he got to his office, he was surprised to see the door open, but was shocked even more to find Belle French standing behind his desk, his chipped cup in her hands.

For a moment, he thought mind was playing tricks on him and he was imagining her there, but when the vision of her didn’t disappear, he realized she was actually there. He took a step closer, expecting the tap of his cane to draw her attention, but she never looked up, giving him the opportunity to drink her in. She looked stunning, as usual, in a lacey cream blouse that was sheer enough to be tantalizing but not unprofessional, and one of those short, floaty, black skirts she loved that made his blood pressure rise. It was all tied together with a pair of her sky high heels that made her shapely legs look impossibly long. He did note that even with them she was still shorter than him, however.

Belle wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at his back, and he sank deeper into her sweet heaven. She was so tight and wet around him. Head thrown back in ecstasy as he slid in and out of her, swallowing down her cries as he rubbed small circles around her clit.

The click of the door shutting behind him shook him out of his flashback of his dream, but Belle didn’t seem to notice, her finger still tracing over the chip in the cup.

“Miss French? What are you doing here?” he spoke, watching as she jumped slightly at his voice. Tea splashed over the edge of the cup and splattered on the essays he had been reading earlier, an improvement to many of them.

Belle cursed quietly and set the cup down. “Cam, you startled me.”

“Well, it is my office, dearie.” His tone was sharper than he intended, and he cursed himself for it, especially when he saw the way her expression closed off.

Her usually expressive face was completely devoid of emotion. It was a look he knew well. He had perfected it over years of listening to excuses and going to boring meetings Regina insisted he attend.

Belle set the cup down on the desk before walking around it to ‘her’ side and staring at him with crossed arms. “Very well, Professor Gold, what did you need me for?” she asked, her voice just as flat as her expression.

“Cam, please!” Belle begged into his ear. The needy tone, and the way she bucked her hips against his, left no question of what she wanted.

It was on the tip of his tongue to list a number of things he needed her for, starting with her joining him for dinner tonight and ending with her screaming his name as he fucked her in his bed, but he didn’t think that was what she was referring to. Matter of fact, he hadn’t a clue what she was referring to. A quick mental check of his calendar assured him he hadn’t gotten his dates mixed up. They weren’t due for another meeting until the next week.

“I’m sorry, Miss French, but you are going to have to clarify what you mean. I have no need for you,” Gold managed to get out even as his mind screamed that he was a liar.

Belle’s mask dropped a bit as confusion seemed to roll over her. “You texted me. Told me you needed to see me, and I quote, ‘immediately.’ Sound familiar?”

No, it didn’t. He hadn’t sent any messages. Belle knew better than anyone else he was not exactly a texter. “Miss French, I believe you are mistaken. Perhaps you mistook it for one of your little friends.”

The annoyed look she sent him in response would have had most men stuttering out an apology, but he was not most men. Even still, he took the chance to slip into his chair and start looking over the essays from earlier - a great excuse to avoid her eye contact. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to escape this conversation, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when a phone was set down on the papers he was looking over. His own name stared back at him on her phone. He was choosing to ignore the little smiley faces next to his name because he was not in the right space to ponder over that, along with their text history. “I must see you in my office. Immediately.” Despite knowing he hadn’t sent any sort of text message, it was there clear as day.

“Somehow I don’t think I mistook this, Professor Gold.”

Opening up the top drawer of his desk, Cameron pulled out his phone and brought up his own messages. Sure enough, there was nothing there. He set the phone down next to Belle’s so she could read it. “As you can see, Miss French, I’ve sent you no messages. As it was, I was talking with Professor Drago when you received your message. I didn’t even have my phone on me.”

Belle’s face scrunched up in adorable confusion, and he could tell she was trying to figure out what happened before seemingly giving up. “Well, this was a waste of my time,” she groused as she grabbed her phone.

The words were a shot to his heart. A waste of her time, that’s what seeing him had become to her. Like a wounded animal, he couldn't help but snipe back, “It’s been a pleasure for me, too, dearie. Why don’t you run along now, some of us have to actually work. We don’t get a month off because we caved to our hormones and made the wrong choice of hookups, dearie.”

The words were off his tongue before he truly thought them through, and he immediately regretted them, especially when he saw the hurt alight in her eyes. “Belle, I-”

“Save it. I’m leaving before you can say something else monumentally stupid.”

To anyone else, her voice may have sounded calm, but he could hear the slight tremor in it that belied her anger. She was stalking to the door before he could grab his cane. By the time he made it to his feet to go after her, she was at the door. He didn’t relish the idea of chasing her through the halls, but he’d do it to apologize or whatever it took to erase that hurt. Her name was on the tip of tongue again, ready to beg her to stop and listen, when she tried to open the door and it didn’t budge.

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

“He’s an asshole.” A voice in Belle’s head screamed at Cameron’s cruel words.

Bad choice of hookups. Had anyone else said such a thing, she’d have accused them of being jealous, but she knew Cameron. He wasn’t some childish schoolboy who got jealous over who she may, or may not, have possibly hooked up with. Given his treatment of her over the last few months, she was beginning to doubt if he cared about her at all.

There were so many things she wanted to say in response to that piece of stupidity, but she was not going to let her anger do the talking. So she did what any reasonable person would do - run away. She heard Cameron get up to follow her, and for once, she was grateful for his bad ankle because she was sure she could outpace him. The universe, however, decided to laugh at her, because when she tried to push open the door, it wouldn’t open. She put her weight against the door, but even then, it barely cracked open.

“Professor Gold? Is that you?” a from outside the door questioned. The sentence was punctuated by stifled yawn, confirming the voice as Walter.

She could feel Gold still looming over her shoulder, his gaze burning into her, but chose to ignore him. “Walter, it’s Belle. The door won't open. What’s happening?” she asked through the door.

There was a small pause before Walter spoke again, a nervous tremor entering his voice. “Belle? Oh, no. Is, uhm, is Professor Gold in there too?”

“Well, it is my office, dearie,” Gold snarked from behind her.

She was glad her back was turned to him because, even though she was still annoyed with him, she couldn’t help the small quirk of her lips. Mentally giving herself a shake, she focused on the problem at hand. “Yes, Walter, Professor Gold is here, too. What’s going on? Why won't the door open?”

“The floor scrubber broke down and it’s too heavy to move by myself. I’ve called for Marco to come take a look at this, but unfortunately it might be a while before he gets here,” Walter said, causing Belle to drop her head against the door with a sigh.

“And, pray tell, dearie, how long is ‘a while’?” Gold asked. The annoyance was clear in his voice, though she wasn’t sure if it was at Walter for being the bearer of bad news, or the fact he was stuck here with her.

She could hear Walter stifle another yawn before he spoke, something that was definitely not helping his case with Gold. “Uh, an hour? Maybe two? Marco wasn’t clear.”

There was a nervous tone to Walter's voice, which wasn’t unexpected for most people when giving bad news to Cameron. But hidden underneath that, there was something else, something Belle couldn’t quite place.

“So let me get this straight. The two of us are stuck in here until Marco shows up and can hopefully fix your machine?” Gold asked, still a loitering presence behind her.

“...Yes.”

Belle could feel a headache coming on, and she was really regretting not going straight home after her last class. “Thank you, Walter. Let us know of any updates. Please?”

When she got confirmation from Walter, she let the reality of the moment sink in.

She was trapped in a room with Cameron Gold.

For a second, her heart stuttered with thought of being trapped anywhere, her claustrophobia triggering, and she had to take several breaths to calm herself. She reminded herself that she had been in this room hundreds of times, that, even with the current chaos in their relationship, Cameron would never hurt her, and that it was just for a few hours. Still, it took a conscious effort to relax her body and keep the nervous tremors to just her hands. When she was sure she wasn’t going to freak out, she straightened up and turned to face her next issue.

Cameron was closer than she expected, close enough she could smell his cologne. The scent of sandalwood transported her back to her dream from weeks ago, and now she was fighting back the flush that wanted to rise up. He was saying something to her, but she didn’t hear it - her brain was transposing the dream to reality.

“You are full of surprises, dearie.” Lips crashing together, hands tugging at hair, desperate to be closer.

Cameron tilted his head and said something to her again, concern flickering across his face.

“Should I stop, Miss French?” Words spoken against the curve of her neck, seeking out the spots that made her cry out.

A hand on her shoulder and more words spoken.

“You left me for a month, and for that I’m going to make you scream, little Belle.” A promise spoken as he drove her closer to that edge but refused to let her reach.

A month gone, a month without seeing him, a month without talking to each other. Concern in his eyes, a shake to her shoulder.

“Some of us have to actually work. We don’t get a month off because we made the wrong choice of hookups, dearie.” Anger in his voice, disdain dripping from his words.

She stepped back from the hand on her shoulder, letting the dreams fall away and focusing on reality. What was said in her dreams were just that, dreams, but what Cameron had implied about her was real. Taking another step back, she hit the door, but there was now enough space between them that she could think straight, at least.

Slowly, he pulled his hand back, settling both on the handle of his cane, adopting a blank face. “Belle, are you okay? You spaced off there for a second.”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

She wasn’t fine. She was far from fine at this point. She was annoyed by his earlier comment, the insinuation that came with it, and more annoyed because despite that, she still wanted him.

“Miss French, I’m sor-” Gold started to apologize but Belle held up a hand to silence him.

She wasn’t ready to hear his apology because she wanted to be mad at him. Because that was the correct response when someone suggests that you chose to sleep around rather than work or attend school. She knew herself, if he apologized she would forgive him, because she knew Cameron Gold. She knew that he hadn’t meant what he said, or what was implied by it. It was easier to not accept his apology, to ignore the regret in his eyes, and stay angry, because the other option was to accept the apology and know that the man she loved had said it.

Stepping around him, she bypassed her usual seat and took up residence in one of the two comfortable leather chairs on the opposite end of the office from his desk. There was a small table set up between the two chairs. In the past, it was used when they decided to take their tea here rather than at his desk. Those were the times where they would get lost in discussion and Belle would realize she had spent hours here simply talking with him.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she pulled her laptop from her bag and set it up on the table. Since she was stuck here, she might as well get some work done. While she didn’t actually have a paper to write for Midas, she did have some research she wanted to get done before her next class. From the corner of her eye, she could see Gold still standing by the door, position unchanged, for a moment before he went to his desk.

For the next hour, they both worked in silence, something familiar but new at the same time. She had spent many hours in this office in silence with Cameron in the past, her working on a paper or reading a book while he did his own work. In the past, though, it had always been a comfortable silence. This was a silence filled with words unspoken.

She hated that their relationship had come to this, where they couldn’t even be in the same room without this awkwardness, but she didn’t know how to address it, either. How do you apologize for being a complete mess around your teacher because you can’t help picturing him bending you over his desk, without sounding like a complete creep? Yeah, she’d be keeping that particular apology to herself.

At some point, Gold brought over a cup of tea, leaving it silently on the table before going back to his desk. When she took a sip, she was pleased to find it was the white tea she preferred instead of the oolong he usually made for himself. He had previously kept some on hand when she was a frequent visitor, and she was glad he hadn’t gone as far as to get rid of it because of their tiff. The fact it was made exactly to her taste wasn’t lost on her, either. The duality of man endured.

Despite the tense atmosphere, Belle still managed to get a good amount of work done on her research. Trouble came when she needed to cite a specific point from a book she had read, but when she searched her bag, she realized she didn’t have the book on hand. She knew she could technically leave it and come back to it later, but she wanted to move on. Luckily, she knew that Gold had the same copy of the book as she did. After all, she had given it to him. The real trouble would be finding where he put it.

She knew that there was a method to his madness, and while she probably knew his system better than most people, she hadn’t the slightest clue where he would have stashed it. Could she ask where it was? Absolutely. Was she going to? Well, that would ruin the quiet peace they had settled into and, if she really wanted to be honest with herself, she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to talk to him. She wasn’t upset anymore, but she also didn’t know what to make of his earlier statement.

When she moved to the nearest bookshelf, she caught the slight movement of his head as he tracked her from the other side of the room. She moved shelf to shelf, fingers trailing over spines as she went. There were a few new books that had been added in her absence and she made note to look into them on her own time.

As she got closer to his desk, Gold seemed to give up all pretense of whatever work he had been doing and was outright watching her. When she bent down to look at one of the lower shelves, she heard his slight intake.

“What do you want, sweet Belle?”

“Miss French, what are you looking for?” Cameron’s voice sounded from behind her and she wasn’t sure if the strain in his voice was real or her mind playing tricks on her again.

“A book,” she replied without looking back at him.

“Yes, I gathered as much. Care to say which one?” Cameron asked. He was closer than before, and she knew if she looked over her shoulder, he’d be towering over her.

Belle slowly stood back up and turned around. She had been right - he was closer than she expected, and even with her heels, he still had a couple inches on her. Meeting his eyes, she responded back simply, “No.”

Seeming to realize how close he was to her, Gold tried to step back but hit his desk and something flickered in his expression before smoothing out. When he spoke, his voice was calm as ever. “Really, Miss French?”

Belle took another step closer - they were nearly chest to chest now - and raised an eyebrow in a challenge. “Really, Professor Gold.”

It took all her will power to remain calm and collected, but this was just as much a test for her as it was for him. Cameron Gold thrived on making people uncomfortable with his presence. She wanted to see how he did on the other end of it.

His eyes flickered to her lips. For one heart stopping second, she thought he might actually breach that distance between them like he did in her dreams.

Then the second was over and the mask of Professor Cameron Gold slid back into place. “Really, dearie, your stubbornness is admirable, but I’d have thought you’d spend your time more wisely. You’ve lost enough of it already.”

“Really, dearie, I’d think you’d show some more commitment.”

“We don’t get a month off because we caved to our hormones and made the wrong choice of hookups, dearie.”

Dream and reality intertwined again, two Golds flashing through her mind, both wearing the same smug smile. That same implication being thrown at her. He was going to be the death of her. She didn’t know if she wanted to yell at him or strangle him. So she chose the third option.

She kissed him.

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

Being trapped in a room alone with Belle was a special kind of torture, so when that subtle hint of strawberries that he so heavily associated with her drifted to him, he couldn’t help but look up. With her back turned and attention diverted, he allowed himself the brief opportunity to look his fill of her. When she bent over to look at one of the lower shelves, he barely contained the gasp as her skirt was pulled taut, giving him a view of her rear end that would be playing in his dreams for many nights to come. She was going to be the death of him.

He forced himself to speak to her, telling himself that the sooner she found the book she was looking for, the sooner he regained his sanity. Her mere presence was setting him on edge. Like before, he hadn’t meant for his words to be so sharp, but her proximity was maddening. He hadn’t realized they were so close, just a few scant inches between them, until he tried to step back and came into contact with his desk. She wetted her lips, seemingly unconscious of motion, drawing his gaze to her mouth.

She was just inches away from him, pink rosebud lips twisted up in a small smile. Dear God, she was going to kill him. “Do we have a deal, Cam? ”

He wasn’t even really sure of what he said to her - something snarky to push her away, he was sure. Her eyes sparkled with blue fire, her face flushed with anger, her hands twitching at her side like she was holding back from slapping him. She had never been so beautiful, and she was rightfully pissed off at him. So when she reached for him, he expected a slap. What he didn’t expect was to be pulled in by his suit jacket and to be kissed senseless.

Senseless was the perfect word to describe him, because he wasn’t sure what was happening and how he’d ended up here. He had to be dreaming. He must have nodded off at his desk and this was just another dream where he’d wake up alone and unsatisfied. There was no way that this was real and Belle, beautiful, wonderful, Belle French was kissing him, but even though he knew it had to be a dream, he was weak.

His hands sunk into her hair, holding on to her as tight as she held him, and caved to the pressure of her lips. He swallowed the little gasp she loosed when he nipped at her lower lip, then soothed the hurt over. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in his own hair, as she pressed closer to him. The edge of his desk was digging into his back, but he ignored it. Even in his dreams, he never got tired of kissing her, the little noises she made when he deepened the kiss, the way she gripped at his hair sending little sparks of pleasure through him. He couldn’t get enough. He needed more.

Cameron spun them around so that he could sit her on the desk, or at least he attempted to. Belle’s squeak of surprise was covered by his own gasp of pain as sharp pain shot through his bad ankle when he reversed their positions. As the joint threatened to give out on him, he found himself leaning against the desk, caging her in. Cursing himself, he let his head drop to crook of her neck, placing an open mouth kiss to the skin there.

“Some dream,” he murmured against her.

Belle’s hands, which had slipped under his suit jacket at some point, froze at the buttons of his waistcoat. “Dream?”

Cameron hummed in assent against her throat, nipping at the skin there, determined to leave a mark. He protested when he felt her pushing at his chest, forcing him to take a step back. The action sent another twinge of pain through his ankle, and that combined with the confused look on Belle’s face finally had things sinking in. He had been dreaming of Belle for months now and never had his ankle ever caused him trouble. He’d had her six ways from Sunday, against every fixture in his office, and across his home, and not once had he felt the slightest twinge of pain. In his dreams, he was almost what she deserved, whole, unburdened by his defects.

Shock transformed into dread as he took another step back from Belle. She was still looking at him with that look of confusion. “Sweetheart. Belle. Miss French!” He stumbled over his words, his normally golden tongue turned to lead. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“You dreamt of me?” Belle asked, tracing the spot on her neck that he had nipped at.

There was definitely going to be a mark. His previous desire to mark her had turned to guilt, which curdled in his stomach. Regina was finally going to get her excuse to get rid of him and he had no one to blame but himself. He had assaulted a student because he couldn’t differentiate between dream and reality.

“Miss French. I offer no excuses for my behavior. It was uncalled for and inapp-”

“Did you dream of me?” Belle cut him off. The look of confusion had been replaced by something akin to shock.

He could lie. He probably should lie. Claim insanity, lack of sleep, illness, anything to save his skin. But he couldn’t do that. He could deny her nothing, not even now when every word he said would damn him. “That I did does not excuse my actions.” Accepting his fate, he continued, “You do not need to trouble yourself, Miss French. I am going to go straight to Dean Mills -”

Belle cut him off once again, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cameron loosed a humorless laugh. “Because, despite my actions tonight, I have no desire to lose my job.”

She paced past him towards where she had been sitting before, wrapping her arms around herself, looking almost fragile. “So you chose your job over me.”

“Over you? What do you…” He trailed off at the look on Belle’s face. Suddenly, things started to click in his head. Belle had kissed him. She had pulled closer. She had been the one who had been at work at his clothes. Yes, he had kissed her back, but she had initiated it. She hadn’t pulled away or tried to stop him. She had responded back enthusiastically. “You’re not upset?”

It was Belle’s turn huff out a laugh. “Oh, I’m upset. You wanted me, but rather than tell me and let me make a decision on it, you pushed me away. That’s why you did it, right? Why you’ve been pushing me away? Why you’ve been such a prick?”

“I couldn’t tell you! You’re a student, Belle! It’s inappropriate and nothing could ever come from it. Not to mention, there was never even the slightest indication that my thoughts, my feelings, would be reciprocated.”

Belle looked at him like she wanted to strangle him - a look he was more accustomed to seeing from Mal or Regina. “No indication? Cameron, I was here every single day. I spent hours with you here! You were the first person I came to when I thought I was going to have to leave school. Even Ruby figured it out! You’re taking the coward’s response, claiming that you didn’t know, that you feared for your job. It wasn’t that there were no indications, you just didn’t think I could want you.”

Years of practice keeping a neutral expression was the only thing preventing him from physically recoiling at her words. Because she was right. If he looked back on their relationship over the last few years, it really was obvious. Little touches and looks shared between them now had more meaning and depth. She was also right that instead of acknowledging what was now clear, he had run, because even with her own admittance of her feelings, he still found it hard to believe. It was much easier to believe that she could never want him.

“You didn’t say anything, either. Instead, you went away!” His words were harsh, an accusation more than a statement.

Belle’s brows furrowed in confusion before understanding. “I didn’t ‘go away,’ I got sick!”

“Yes, I know. You were sick .” He watched the implication of his words hit her. She had gotten mono, and he knew how that was spread. She might have had feelings for him, but that hadn’t stopped her from kissing someone else.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Are you serious, Cameron?” She questioned him, her tone both annoyed and exasperated. “I’m not having a conversation like this. When you get your head out of your ass, we can talk.” She turned her back to him, crossing the distance to her chair and started gathering her stuff back in her bag.

Anger sparked in him, anger based out of shame because she was right to dismiss him like this. He should let her try to leave and put this whole thing out of his mind, preferably utilizing the bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk. He didn’t, though. He limped after her, crowding her space again.

“Unfortunately for you, we are still stuck here together, dearie.” Cameron watched as Belle straightened at his words, her hands twitching at her side.

“Don’t call me that, Cameron.” Her request was quiet, a change from their earlier raised voices.

He smiled a shark's grin at her back, and like a shark, he could scent blood in the water. A good man wouldn’t go after a weakness like this, but he never claimed to be a good man. He was already crowding her space, but he leaned in even closer, to whisper in ear, “And why not, dearie?”

Belle spun around to face him, that blue fire from earlier sparking once more in her eyes. He wasn’t so blind that he couldn’t see the similarities to their encounter just minutes ago. Belle’s hands were clenched at her side, a slight tremor to them, but she looked at him like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to slap him or pull him close. The room was silent with only the sound of their breathing, each waiting for the other to break. In the end, he was the weak one, but then he always knew he was. All it took was her tongue coming out to wet her lips and he crumbled.

Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her to him, eliminating the small distance between them, and kissed her hard. There was no hesitation in Belle’s response, her hands gripping his shoulders. The kiss was rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues. She sucked at his bottom lip, tugging at it with her teeth, drawing a low groan from him. The reality of kissing Belle was better than any dream he’d ever had. In his dreams, she always tasted of strawberries and sweetness, but kissing Belle now, he could taste the tea he had given her earlier, sweet but with an underlying astringent tartness that was uniquely Belle.

She was the one who broke away first, kissing along his jaw, making his head drop back, her name released with moan. His hands came to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her shirt had come untucked from her skirt and he traced the sliver of skin that had been revealed, feeling her shiver under his hands.

She sucked at a spot just below his ear and, with her pressed up against him, he knew she could feel him hard against her belly. When she bit down at that same spot, he swore, and he felt her smile against him. When she started shoving at this suit jacket, he let her go long enough to shuck it off, and when she started on the buttons of his waistcoat, he removed it, too.

With that barrier gone, he dipped his head to kiss her again, probing her mouth, finding again those spots that made her gasp and squirm against him. When he cupped her breasts, thumbs stroking over the material of her blouse and bra, her nails bit into him through the silk of his shirt. He wanted to feel them in his skin, scoring his back as he brought her pleasure again and again. He could feel the hardened points of her nipples through her shirt and it was too many layers for him.

He wanted to feel her skin against his.

He went to work at the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse but found himself fumbling as Belle ducked her head to kiss the dip of his collar bone, teeth tugging at the skin. He wasn’t sure when she had gotten rid of his tie or undone the first few buttons of his shirt, but he couldn't find it in him to care. When she nipped at him at the same time as she scraped her nails over his nipples, he damn near lost his mind.

Gripping her blouse on either side, he ripped it open, buttons popping off and skittering across the floor, drawing a surprised squeak from Belle as he pushed it from her shoulders. Underneath, she was wearing a dark blue lace bra, a delicious contrast to her pale skin, and for a moment, he was speechless as he took in the sight of her. Her hair was mussed by his hands, her lips shiny and swollen from his kisses. The mark he left on her neck was darkening to a bruise that anyone would be able to see, and her breasts, pushed up by her bra, were the perfect size for his hands. She was perfect. He traced a finger along the cup of her bra, just barely letting his nail scrape across skin that was as soft as silk.

“So damn gorgeous.” Bending his head, he ran the flat of his tongue over her nipple through the lace of her bra, murmuring against her skin, “God, I want you. I want you so much. I want to feel you around my fingers, I want to taste you on my tongue, I want to feel the way you grip my cock as I slide deep into you. I want to hear you scream my name as I make you come again and again.”

He could feel Belle’s breath hitch in her chest at his words, her hands gripping his shoulders. There was a slight tremor to her hands and he pulled back to look at her. “Tell me to stop, Belle. Tell me to stop and we can forget this ever happened. I’ll go to Dean Mills. I’ll quit and you won't have to see me. Tell me to stop and I’ll never bother you again. Tell me to stop.”

Belle stared at him, and for a second he thought she was going to do it, but then she was pushing him back until his legs hit the chair she had been sitting in earlier. He fell into the chair and watched in awe as Belle shucked off her shirt and bra before climbing into his lap. God, she was going to be the death of him.

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

Belle knew this wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t care at the moment. She didn’t know what she had expected when she had kissed Cameron, but ending up topless and in his lap with his confession that he wanted her still ringing in her ears had not been it. The fact that he had purposely pushed her away because of those feelings and his comment about her ‘going away’ infuriated her, but she wasn’t focusing on that. She’d be mad at him later.

Cameron’s hands bracketed her waist before tracing up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples. He looked at her with a wicked glint in his eye before bending his head to kiss his way down her chest. When he reached her nipple, he used his tongue to trace around the hardened bud before sucking at it. Her hands found their way into his hair again. It was even softer than she had imagined, holding his head to her breast. The combination of the wet heat of his mouth and his fingers mimicking the motion on her other breast had her mind going fuzzy. When he used his teeth to tug at her nipple, she had to bite her lip to silence the moan that burst forth.

Using her grip on his hair, she drew his mouth back to hers, parting his lips and sliding in to taste him. God, the man could kiss, and the brief thought of what else he could do with that tongue had her arousal skyrocketing. She pulled away and his eyes met hers, his pupils blown wide with lust.

She kissed her way down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin and feeling his pulse pound beneath her lips and tongue. When she bit down lightly at the juncture of his neck, his head fell back against the chair and his hands gripped her thighs. She ran her tongue over the bite, tempted to leave a mark to match the one he had given her, but decided against it.

She nipped at the triangle of skin she had uncovered earlier, enjoying the rumbling groan he loosed. She worked on unbuttoning his shirt, revealing more of that smooth, tanned skin, exploring the contours of his chest with lips and tongue. When she scraped her teeth over his nipple, payback for his own actions, he hissed and his grip tightened on her thighs. She was definitely going to have bruises tomorrow, but at the moment, she didn't care. She wanted to see him lose the composure he held so tightly to.

Belle swirled her tongue around the bud at the same time as she started rocking her hips against him. She could feel him hard and thick beneath her, and when she rubbed herself against him, he groaned out her name. Even through the layers of their clothes, she could feel the heat of him, and she ached for him to be inside of her. She had been keyed up from the first kiss and she knew she was making a mess of his pants and, if she was honest, she liked the thought of it.

She kept up the slow rock of her hips against his as she trailed kisses up his chest and neck. The roughness of his pants combined with how wet she was provided a delicious friction that was driving her closer and closer to that peak. Each movement of her hips forced the hard length of him bumping against her clit, sending sparks of pleasure through her.

Cameron was practically panting beneath her, head thrown back against chair and watching her through heavy lidded eyes. His hands moved slowly along her thighs. His fingers teased just under the hem of her skirt where it had risen up on her thighs when she straddled him. She knew the light teasing touch was his own way of torturing her, and damn if it wasn’t working. He was so close to where she wanted him, but he refused to take that final step. When his thumbs brushed over her inner thighs, just inches from where she was wet and aching, it was her time to suck in a gasp. She knew he could feel how wet she was, but still he didn’t press forward. He was going to be the death of her. The bastard.

Well, two could play that game.

Belle placed an open mouth kiss just below his ear at the same time she ground down on him. The noise he let out sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me”

She smiled and nipped at the same spot, drawing out another whimper. When she spoke, she let her lips brush against the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder beneath her. “Is this what you dreamt of, Cameron? Fucking me right here in your office?”

“Belle, please.”

Belle was always going to remember this moment, the illustrious Cameron Gold completely at her mercy. At her mercy and begging, begging for her put him out of his misery. But she wasn’t quite done yet. She nipped at his earlobe, drawing another groan from him.

“I dreamt of you, too. I’ve dreamt of you bending me over your desk and fucking me til I screamed your name. I’ve dreamt of getting on my knees and taking you in my mouth until you explode. I’ve spent so many nights aching for your touch, left with nothing but the empty satisfaction of my own fingers.”

She felt Cameron’s thumb just barely brush the lace edge of her panties and she knew she had him. She placed a kiss to that spot right under his ear again as she took his hand and brought him fully between her legs. “Don’t make me suffer that again.”

Like when she kissed him before, there was only a moment of hesitation before he broke. His fingers pushed aside the silk and finally he was touching her. Dear God, he was going to be the death of her.

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

He was touching her. Belle French was in his lap and was begging for him to touch her. He was a weak man. A better man would have stopped this before they had gotten to this point, but he had never claimed to be a good man. So when she brought his hand between her legs, he didn’t hesitate to push the soaked material of her panties and touch the slick flesh beneath. She was incredibly soft and wet and made the most delicious little noises as he stroked through her folds. He wanted to memorize every noise and shudder as he learned how to drive her insane.

When he pushed a finger into her, they both released a loud groan at the feeling. She was so fucking tight and wet, feeling like wet silk gripping him, and he could only imagine how she’d feel wrapped around his cock as he fucked her. When he added a second finger, Belle let out a cry loud enough to remind him that while they were essentially locked in, his office was in no way soundproof, and it would not be hard to figure out exactly what was happening in here.

Capturing her mouth, he swallowed down her cries as he curled his fingers inside her and used his thumb to circle the hard bud of her clit. His tongue stroked over hers, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her close as she started to work herself on his hand. He could tell she was getting close, sweat beading on her upper lip and the muscles of her thighs twitching as she rocked against him. He needed to see her come, needed to see her reach that pinnacle of pleasure and know it was because of him. He cupped her breast, plucking at her nipple in time with the rhythm of fingers.

Belle came with a muffled cry, her teeth sinking into his lip, her juices soaking his fingers as he kept his fingers moving, drawing out her pleasure. She broke the kiss as she gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm and chest heaving invitingly. Slowly he withdrew his fingers from her slick heat, holding her gaze as he slid both into his mouth. God, she tasted delicious. He wanted more of her, he wanted to spread her out on his dining room table and feast on her. Drink her down until her voice was hoarse from screaming his name. He was addicted to her and was happy to drown in her.

Gold was painfully hard at this point and ached to be inside her. Belle must have felt the same way, because after only a moment to breathe, both of them were scrambling to get his belt and pants undone. No sooner did Belle get the zipper down than she reached in and released his cock. The first touch of her hand on him had him throwing his head back with a garbled groan. He watched from hooded eyes as she started stroking him base to tip, and it took all his willpower to not spill himself in her hand like some green youth.

“Sweetheart, if you don’t stop, we’re both going to be disappointed.”

The small quirk of Belle’s mouth was all the warning he got before she swept her thumb over the head of him, spreading the bead of moisture she found there.

“Minx!” he growled, grabbing her around the waist to pull her in for another kiss. The result ended up putting her heat in direct contact with his cock, and the kiss turned into a groan from both of them.

“Belle, please. I need to feel you. Please, sweetheart.” Cameron Gold was a proud man, he had fought his way up from the bottom, never asking for anything, taking what he had earned. Then in came Belle French and he was reduced to begging for her touch, and yet he didn’t regret a single thing beyond the fact it took so long for them to get here.

Belle leaned over the edge of the chair for a moment, giving him a lovely view of her rear end, coming back up holding a condom between her fingers. There was a flash of a prickly feeling that could only be categorized as jealousy as he wondered who she had originally planned to use it with. He wondered if it was the same person who gave her mono, but before he could say something stupid, Belle was rolling the condom over him and all thoughts beyond needing to be in her left his mind. She was going to be the death of him.

Had someone told her this morning that she’d be straddling her professor, his cock in her hand, after the best orgasm she’d ever had, Belle would have called them insane. Then she’d have made sure that her dream journal hadn’t been found. But as she rose above him, running the head of him through her folds, she couldn’t help thinking this is exactly where they were meant to be. Cameron was looking up at her, his face a picture of pure adoration, and damn if that didn’t make her feel powerful.

With him poised at her entrance, she hesitated for just a second. “There’s no going back from this, Cameron.”

Things were irrevocably changed for them regardless at this point, but if they broke past this final hurdle, things could never go back to where they were. She had claimed earlier he had chosen his job and his position over a chance of happiness with her, and she was offering him the chance now to choose what he really wanted. If he told her to leave, she would be heartbroken, but she would leave and never bother him again. If he told her to stay, she didn’t know what the future would have in store for them, but they would face it together, at least.

Cameron’s hands had returned to her thighs, and from the way he gripped her, she knew it was taking all his power to not thrust up into her. “Please, Belle.” His voice had deepened to the rough burr she had imagined in her dreams so many times.

“I need you to say it, Cameron. I need you to say it so I know this is happening. I need to know this is real and I’m not going to wake up alone again.”

Something flashed in his eyes for a second, but it was gone again in a blink. His hands moved from her hips to cup her face, the scent of her arousal still lingering on his fingers. He pressed a kiss to her lips that was so gentle in comparison to the words he uttered next. “I want to fuck you, Belle. I want to fuck you so much it hurts. I want you hard and fast, and I want to take my time with you until you are begging for release. I want to leave you sated and sore, so that you remember me with every step you take. I want you every single way I can have you, but most of all? I just want you.”

Cam’s words washed over her, and with a smile, she sank down on him. She gasped and he swore at the first feel of him pressing into her. She told herself not to rush it, to take her time, because she didn’t know what the future held in store for them and she wanted this to last. That thought went out the door the second he was fully sheathed in her. The feel of him, hard and thick in her felt amazing, and she wondered how in the hell they had gone three years without this.

Belle rocked against him, enjoying the way he cursed and gripped her hips, drawing her back down onto him again. His hips thrust up to meet hers, and soon the room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin and their stifled moans.

She truly meant to go slow, to draw it out until they were both aching for release, but then Cameron hooked his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. The change of angle had him hitting some place inside her that made her see stars. He felt so fucking good inside her, the combination of the thick, hard length of him and the friction from the coarse hair of his groin against her clit as she ground down against him had quickly had her climax approaching.

“Cam…” Belle didn’t know what she was begging for, but he seemed to understand her, regardless. The hand not around her came back to her breast, cupping and squeezing her, while his mouth sought her again. Her own hands clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into the skin as she used him for leverage.

Too soon, she felt that familiar rising ecstasy, and she could tell Cameron was close, too, his cock growing harder within her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths coming in gasps and pants. Cam kissed along her chest and up her neck, nipping at the mark he had made, her name a muffled mantra as he thrust up into her. She was so close and she wanted to let go, to tip over that knife point of pleasure and bring him with her.

“Come for me, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful when you come. Come for me, Belle. Let me feel you come around my cock.” Cam’s voice was pure sin, straight from her dreams, his thickened accent making his words come out as a near growl. The words spoken in her ear, lips teasing the shell of her ear, in combination with his hand and hips moving in tandem were just what was needed to push her over the edge.

She bit down on the juncture of Cameron’s neck and shoulder to muffle her cry as she came. Cameron’s answering curse was not nearly as silent as she felt him pulsing inside her as he found his own release.

Belle’s head dropped to Cam’s shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She felt Cam kiss her head and she smiled against him. This was definitely not what she had expected from this meeting, but she wasn’t going to complain. Maybe now things could finally go back to normal.

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

Cameron Gold was sure he was dreaming, because he had a lapful of Belle French, who had admitted she had wanted him. He knew there were things they needed to talk about, but all he could focus on was the soft press of her body against his. She was snuggled into his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her head. He breathed in the scent of her, that ever present scent of strawberries now mixed with the scent of his cologne. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

Reality apparently had a different plan, however.

Belle pulled back so she could look at him and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he repeated back. He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over the silky smooth skin, pulling her down to brush his lips again against hers.

“Professor Gold, I’ve got the machine working. You should be free in just a moment!” The heavy Italian accent of Marco Albero, the college’s head of maintenance, was like a bucket of cold water over him. The sound of movement on the other side of the door was an extra shot of ice down his spine.

Belle pulled back with a surprised squeak and quickly scrambled out of his lap, and he had just enough sense of mind to hold the base of the condom as he slipped from her. Belle was a flurry of motion, smoothing down her skirt and righting her bra before he had truly processed what was happening.

Gold knew that if the door was opened and anyone saw their disheveled forms, they could both be in trouble. There was no way anyone could look at him sitting there, shirt undone and cock out, and then at Belle, shirtless and covered in marks from his hands and mouth, and not infer what had happened here.

Logically, he knew that if found out, there could be severe repercussions for both of them. He was not only her teacher but technically her boss, too. Regina hated him enough as it was. This would be all the ammunition she needed to finally send him packing. Not to mention what it would do to Belle’s academic career. He knew this all logically. However, all he could see was the fear on Belle’s face at the thought of being caught with him.

“Get dressed! They can’t see us like this!” Belle hissed at him as she picked up her shirt from where he had tossed it to the floor.

Fifty years of self loathing came whispering in his ear. She was embarrassed to be seen with him. Desiring someone was one thing, wanting to be with them was another. Anger and shame roiled in his gut, banishing all traces of the happiness he was feeling before.

He righted his pants, tucking himself away and limping over to the trash can to dispose of the condom. Belle was looking at her shirt, but the majority of the buttons were scattered across his floor. He took up his cane from where he had set it before this had all gone down and went to the wooden storage cabinet. He kept a spare shirt and suit pants inside, and he took out the shirt and tossed it to Belle.

“Here. To cover your shame.” His words came out icy and sharp, drawing a glare from Belle.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Belle pulled the shirt on, only buttoning it halfway down before tying the ends in a knot, baring a small slice of her midriff. The dark blue of the shirt gave her pale skin an almost luminous glow.

Gold refused to meet her eyes, another act of cowardice on his part, and focused on buttoning up his own shirt. “Well, you’ve had your fun. You can run along home to whoever it is that keeps you warm at night. I trust you’ll want to keep your indiscretion quiet, after all”

Belle took a step back like he had struck her, and his stomach churned at the hurt look that crossed her face before it was replaced with fury. “Are you serious, Cameron?”

“Don’t worry, dearie, you won't have to worry about any more absences due to me. But maybe given your own history, perhaps I should be the one concerned.” He gave her a cold look, putting as much venom as he could into it. “Should I perhaps get tested?”

He was angry, he was hurt, but mostly he felt used. He had never expected her to want him, but when she had kissed him he briefly thought she did. For a brief moment, he thought she had felt the same way he did. But it seemed he was no more than a way to scratch an itch. So he did what he always did, he lashed out. Pushing away those he loved.

Belle was shaking with anger and a tiny part of him was glad. “You are a bastard.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise, dearie,” he hissed back at her.

The air was thick with tension, both of them glaring at each other. He could see Belle’s clenching and unclenching her hands and he wondered if she was going to slap him. He’d deserve it for sure. Both of them waited for the other to say something else, to completely shatter what was left of this relationship.

“There we go! All fixed.” Marco’s voice shattered the silence as the office door swung open.

There was a moment of awkward silence as he seemed to pick up the tension between them, but then Belle spun on her heel and flashed him one of her winning smiles.

“Thank you so much, Marco!” She went over and kissed the older man on his whiskery cheek, causing him to blush. “You’re just in time. I have got a date to get to.”

Gold gripped the cane hard enough that his knuckles turned white but managed to keep a neutral face. “Well, we’d hate for you to be late, Miss French. Please run along.”

Belle gave him one more hard look before she flounced out of the room. Marco mumbled something about the boiler room and quickly scuttled away, leaving Gold alone once more.

Once he could no longer hear Marco’s steady footsteps, he went over to where Belle had dropped her shirt when she had put on his. The ivory lace was soft to his touch, but not nearly as soft as her skin had felt under his hands and lips. He sat back at his desk, tracing the delicate lace patterns with his finger. He thought about throwing it away. He was going to have to dispose of his trash before the cleaning crew came through, anyway. Instead, he unlocked the bottom left drawer of his desk. Carefully, he folded the shirt with all the care he could and tucked it into the back of the drawer next to a picture of a teenage boy with floofy brown hair and bright eyes.

Locking the drawer once more, Cameron Gold sighed and rubbed at his temples. Belle French was a beautiful flicker of light in his life of darkness. Letting her go like this, pushing her away, was the best for her. Still, he knew one thing for certain.

Belle French would be the death of him.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle

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pearl484-blog · 1 year ago

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Rain Falls, Everybody Lies Adrien AUGreste Entry 3: Rain

Chat Noir loves the rain. He loves the danger. He loves the excitement, and he especially loves how much Catwalker hates it. Jekyll and Hyde AU

Adrien AUGreste Entry 3: Rain

This is a Jekyll and Hyde AU, and although we are going to be using the split personality models preferred by the adaptations instead of the corrupting alter-ego of the book, we will be spoiling the beginning of the book. If you have not read it, I strongly recommend it. It’s awesome, and despite it being old as heck, it accurately predicted that some people, if given the chance to remain anonymous, may choose to do increasingly terrible things so long as there are no personal consequences until they cross the line.

Alright, so I'm going to be busy Saturday, so once again, you guys will be getting an entry a few days early. It will be posted on the same day as "Well, That Went Suspiciously Well". The two are not related.

As per usual, this was not Beta'd, so if you see errors or if anything is unclear, please let me know.

Link to AO3 story. Link to Adrien AUGreste series. ~*~

Chat Noir raced across the rooftops of Paris, delighting in the threatening rumble of the thunder and marveling at the white-hot intensity of the lightning. The rain pounded at his skin, futilely trying to work through his suit’s defenses to soak him to the bone.

He was free -finally free- and even if the rain could get through his suit, it wouldn’t have stopped him. Every part of him ached with the need to move faster, push himself harder, and he didn’t resist. Not even as the roofs grew slick with inches and inches of rainfall and the jumps grew ever more dangerous and unpredictable. It felt wild. It felt uncontrollable. It felt free.

This was what he needed right now. Not that stupid, mindless complacency Catwalker craved. Perfection? Ha! Who needed perfection when you could have the raw beauty of chaos? The mirth of laughter? The bone aching pain of tears? The catharsis of a scream?

Distantly, Chat Noir could tell there was an akuma. Stormy Weather. Chat would bet his life on it. It seemed even Shadow Moth couldn’t stand chaos anymore, constantly repeating the same akumas again and again in the vain hopes that this time, it would work. This time he’d win. What a joke.

Chat didn’t even waste time considering whether or not to join Ladybug. She had her other teammates. Ones who were just as important as Chat Noir. She knew what she was doing. She only really needed his Cataclysm anyways, and if he used that, he’d only have 5 minutes until he was trapped being the oh-so-perfect Catwalker again, and he wasn’t in any hurry to go back to that hand-crafted nightmare any time soon. No thank you.

Instead, Chat kept up his run, pulling every thoughtless, reckless, foolhardy trick he’d ever considered in one last hoorah before he’d be forced back into some dark, forbidden corner of Adrien’s mind again, gnawing on whatever neglected scraps of anger or resentment he could find until he could find a way to escape again. It had been months since he’d escaped last time, and he’d only managed it because Catwalker had despised the rain so vehemently. Deep down, Chat knew that there was always the chance that this time, this escape would be the last one, so he had to make this one count, before he disappeared into oblivion for good.

Then, he saw her. Vesperia. The one person Chat hated more than stupid, perfect Catwalker. She had been the one who’d started it all. The one who planted the idea of making a perfect, better replacement in Adrien’s head. The one who’d made Adrien reject him.

Vesperia was Chloe’s replacement, a sweeter, kinder, better bee. Everyone said so. That she was better than Chloe in every way. Vesperia didn’t lash out like Chloe did. Vesperia wasn’t bossy like Chloe was. It didn’t matter that Vesperia was smarter than Chloe was, or a better fighter than Chloe was. She just wasn’t as damaged as Chloe was. She was just less distracting than Chloe was, less flawed, and so everybody loved her more. Now that Vesperia was here, the only time anyone remembered Queen Bee anymore was when they were comparing her to Vesperia.

That was probably what had happened to Chat Noir. Poor, stupid Chat Noir. Too silly, too ridiculous for anyone to want him. Too chaotic, too messy to deal with. Everybody had always preferred perfect, polished Adrien to him. No doubt that they’d do the same with Catwalker. No wonder Adrien had rejected him. No wonder Adrien had imprisoned him and threw away the key.

Chat blinked back tears, hot and heavy as he stuffed the hurt he felt bubbling up from deep inside him. No. He was not going to do this today. Not when he had just gotten free.

Something inside him snapped, and Chat Noir moved. He rushed towards Vesperia, unseen through the thick heavy rain and shoved her off the building. Then, as she fell, he rushed to continue with his run, not even bothering to check behind him to see Vesperia’s fall.

She’d be fine. Chat had survived dozens of falls from higher than that without so much as a scratch, and she had her top. Chat didn’t really care about which way it ended up. All that mattered to him was that feeling of relief. That finally someone else felt like he did, if only for a moment.

Was this what Chloe felt all the time, he wondered. Was this why she always went back to hurting people? It was wrong. He knew wrong, but God, it had felt so right.

Unfortunately, Chat’s thoughts were soon interrupted by a wire snagging his ankle and yanking it out from underneath him. He screamed as he fell; his claws uselessly flailing towards the slick roof tiles coated in thick streams of water.

When he landed, he found himself face to face with the girl that had once held his heart, and had so callously crushed it with her apathy. Ladybug. Chat Noir yowled at her, yanking at the yoyo holding her leg so he could have enough slack to curl up in a ball.

Chat did not want to talk to her. She had hurt him. She had betrayed him. She didn’t deserve his words, and he had none to give her.

Ladybug, for her part, seemed surprised at what she’d done. She looked so lost and confused, almost betrayed, like Chat had hurt her instead of the other way around. With a flick of her wrist, she retracted her yoyo, letting Chat go free, but Chat didn’t trust it. He knew that if he ran, she would catch him just as easily. No. He wasn’t going to do that. Not today. He curled up tighter and flashed his teeth at her, hissing.

“Chat Noir?” Ladybug asked, her voice almost breaking as she reached her hand out towards him slowly. He flinched, and hated himself as he saw tears well up in her eyes.

God, Chat wished he could hate her. It would make everything so much easier. He wished that he didn’t still love her, that he didn’t want to wipe away her tears and say something, anything to make her feel better. Yet at the same time, he didn’t think he was strong enough to talk to her. It felt as though even the smallest word might break him.

They stared at each other, frozen in the rain until she broke the silence.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

With that, Chat Noir almost did break. He almost told her everything: how Adrien had experimented with the ring and broke himself in two; how Chat Noir was trapped in this horrible limbo of repression; how much it hurt to never be enough, to never be wanted except as the perfect puppet; how scared he was that he might one day disappear, forever lost to the perfect little nightmare that was Catwalker; how he’d hurt Vesperia and it’d felt so good, but he was sorry because he knew he shouldn’t have done that; how it hurt to feel, but it also hurt so much not to feel, and he was scared that one day, he’d give in and accept feeling nothing forever.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even have time to try to make a plan to do anything. He wanted her. He needed her. Now more than ever.

A shield slammed in front of him, forcing Chat to scramble backwards.

“Stay away from her!” Carapace yelled, Vesperia hiding right behind him.

“Careful, Ladybug,” Ryuko said, her voice as cold as ice and unforgiving as steel. “He’s the one who pushed Vesperia off a building. You cannot let yourself be fooled by who he used to be. He cannot be trusted.”

The spell broken, Chat Noir took the chance to flee, running to the shadows to lose them. Bitterly, he cursed himself for his weakness. He should’ve known better.

Ryuko was right. No matter who they might’ve been to Chat Noir once, Chat Noir was stupid to even think of trusting them now. They were Catwalker’s friends. Not his, and he’d been blind to let his feelings run away with him. No one would ever choose chaos over perfection. No one would even want to have silly, melodramatic Chat Noir over the perfect refined Cat Walker.

He’d have to be strong and save himself without them. Or die trying.

#adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #fanfic #fanfiction #adrienaugreste #adrienaugust #jekyll and hyde #inspired by jekyll and hyde

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hdsc-ace · 1 year ago

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Acosmist - Moonknight

III. Avatar

Masterlist Part 2 Rest of my work. Warnings: none.

Lucilla finds out she's more like Marc then she wished.

"The hell." Lucilla mumbled under her breath as she stumbled backwards, away from the sink that was centimetres from hitting her in the face. A Jackal laid just beside it.

It was mere seconds after this a mummy-like figure exited the destroyed bathroom.

"Khonshu's avatar." Ptah called out as Lucilla glanced at the figure. It was hard to miss that they were an avatar, but of Khonshu was a bit more difficult.

However, meeting the avatar of Khonshu didn't cause an issue. Instead it just meant that Ptah's task could be done easier. The issue was that Khonshu's avatar was Lucilla's brother.

"You've got to be kidding." The girl groaned at Ptah's words, an annoyed laugh slightly breaking on through as she spoke. Out of all people to be his avatar, of course it had to be bloody Marc Spector. Who else could've it been?

"Luck, I told you to leave." Marc stated as he approached the girl, his bandages unravelling from his face. It revealed the man's annoyed stare. "You weren't meant to see any of this." Marc rushed towards his sister, pulling Lucilla in the opposite direction from the Jackal's corpse.

"I said to leave." Ptah practically repeated, increasing the level of annoyance Lucilla felt.

"I had business here without the interference." The girl snapped, pulling herself out of Marc's grasp and walked over to the Jackal.

Lucilla didn't waste any time as she carefully crouched beside the Jackal, brushing her hand against it's rough skin only for the creature to crumble into nothing. It left not evidence that it was ever there.

"Khonshu?" The girl questioned, knowing Marc would instantly know that she was questioning who he was the avatar of. However, Lucilla's eyes never left the spoke the Jackal was in: even with the feeling of Marc's eyes burning holes into her back.

"What?" Marc questioned, acting oblivious.

"You're his avatar, right?" Lucilla responded, finally standing up to face her brother, "or have you magically gained another reason for this." The girl gestured to his mummy appearance.

"You're one." Marc stated, dodging Lucilla's question by pinning it on her.

"That, I knew already." The girl turned back to the position the jackal was in. She was quick to bend down and trace her hand in it's shape the best Lucilla could remember. The outline was formed through sand escaping through the girl's fingertips. "Lie all you want, Marc. Nothing you say will be new."

Marc's lies where all Lucilla remembered about the man. Everything he ever said was practically a lie.

"You still avoided my questions." Her mask rolled back to reveal her face as she stood up, studying the outline on the floor. "And you know how much I hate that." Lucilla groaned as she took at her work before looking at her brother.

"I also know that you should leave." The mummy snapped back, continuing to avoid Lucilla's questions.

A small forced laugh exited the girl's mouth. Her suit quickly rolled off her body to allow access to Lucilla's phone, which she used to photograph the outline before her.

"Khonshu's chose was... odd." She returned to Marc once again, changing the topic all together to something Ptah preferred. However, Marc's expression never shifted from the painted annoyed frown that Lucilla swore was tattooed in her mind. "Too bad you and Dr. Grant don't want disturbance of anyone." The girl was quick to make her way past Marc.

"He will break." Ptah states, recognising Lucilla's tactic. It wasn't Marc that she needed to get to, it was Khonshu. If they couldn't get to Marc, the next best bet was to play upon Khonshu's anger.

Ptah was sure to keep the message clear that it was best watch over Khonshu's avatar. Whilst Lucilla wanted to finally gain some answers for herself and Layla. In a way this was killing two birds with one stone.

"Who do you serve?" Marc questions from behind in a reluctant tone. "You know so much about Avatars." Lucilla turned around, watching as expression remained the same with no emotion behind it. It was clear that it was Khonshu questioning them and not Marc.

"Ask him." She shrugged, sliding her hands into her pockets. "An old friend of Khonshu that he once classed as family." A small smirk grew on Lucilla face as she recognised the irony of the situation. Siblings v Siblings. "The one who saved you should really give you the answers."

She smirked at Marc's quiet state. "This scarab is going to get you killed, give it to this man." Lucilla tried to persuade her brother, "I don't care why you have it or what it's for but if it's anything to do with Khonshu then it won't be good. Loose it." Marc continued to stay silent. He could never say a word to Lucilla without being rude so she preferred him this way. However he had no need to be nice.

"Next time when you leave your wife, make sure you don't have family in the city." The girl watched as he stood and distracted like someone else was speaking over her. "Or twenty minutes from where you used to live." Lucilla's voice grew as she recognised Marc's attention to be somewhere else, so she let out a small scoff.

"Nice seeing you, Marc." The girl nodded her brother goodbye, knowing that he couldn't hear her. "Thanks for the trip down memory lane." Lucilla mumbled, pulling her hood above her head and a scarf over her face. As she left the building she formed wooden daggers within her palm and threw them at and security camera she came across.

"Lucilla." Ptah began as his avatar left the wrecked museum. "We need him."

"I know." The girl responded, keeping her head and voice down as she carefully exited into the night. "Marc knows by now Layla is coming. She's our way back to him." She explained but the god didn't listen.

"Turn back." Ptah commanded.

Lucilla instead ignored the god as she continued to walk her way home. She knew Marc like the back of her hand; he will return. However she wouldn't care if he didn't come back. Everything he touched somehow ended fucked up and this whole situation was slowly getting out of hand.

But Khonshu wouldn't give up after everything Lucilla mentioned. He was far too curious to let Lucilla go.

With every step the girl took on her way home, she felt the eyes of strangers. It wasn't the familiar gaze of her god but it was almost more than one. No matter where she went she felt them.

This is why she didn't take her usual route home. The gazes sent shivers up her spine so instead she slipped in and out of alleyways until she reached a plain of a park.

The feeling of watched never felt so the girl entered the park further. No one stood around her, at least from her quick scan of the surroundings. It was a common feeling as of recent; the feeling like people were watching her closely to judge every move she made. Like something catastrophic was going to happen if she chose wrong within a situation where people were waiting for her verdict.

"Lucilla Spector?" A voice questioned out of nowhere, making the girl jump slightly as it was not the voice of Ptah. She quickly turned to see the same man from the museum earlier. "Apologises."

"Who's asking?" She asked cautiously. Was he following her? Was he there at the museum? A hundred questions began to flood the girl's mind.

"Arthur Harrow," The man introduced himself. "We didn't get to preform a proper introduction earlier in the museum." He leaned forwards onto his cane slightly. "I just have a couple questions about your brother, Marc."

"I'm sorry but I haven't spoken to my brother in years." Lucilla lord, hoping Harrow would leave her alone. She didn't want to deal with more drama. "If you're looking for some information about him, Mr Harrow, you're barking up the wrong tree." She smiled softly at the man.

"So it wasn't you visiting a Steven Grant at the museum a few hours ago?" He asked in a tone that showed that he already knew the answer.

"Yet again Mr Harrow, I apologise. I don't know who you're going on about." Lucilla continued. "My brother's current business or affairs isn't my information to tell. Now, if you would excuse me, good evening Mr Harrow." She brushed past the man, prepared to leave but he began to talk again.

"How are you coping with Ptah within your head all the time." The girl turned back at his words, confused. Harrow continued to face away from her in the previous direction.

"Excuse me?" Lucilla questioned. Never once did she mention the name Ptah to anyone apart from the god himself. Not even to Marc. "Ptah?"

You are his avatar, are you not?" Harrow questioned, turning towards the girl as he spoke. Lucilla stayed quiet. "I've had my own experience of these gods once. I know how hard it is to keep the two lives separate." He continued but then paused. He just stood watching the girl's body movement.

"I believe your brother will cause more damage than he will resolve, miss Spector. More pain will come to you than he did before." Harrow continued as Lucilla stayed quiet, just saying things to fill the silence until she spoke. "I need to stop him before he continues."

"Marc has no business with me." She stated. "And I have no business with him. Everyone who follows him ends up dying or gaining insanity." Everyone did, he watched as their brother and her husband die, he let their mother go insane. Marc doesn't think before he acts.

"But Ptah has business with him." Harrow reasons, "He feels what Khonshu can do. At this rate, all three of then will bring you down with them whether it's with the council or the law."

"Once more, Mr Harrow." Lucilla told the man, "My business with my brother finished years ago abroad. I don't know what you are talking about with this Ptah either. I'm sorry I couldn't help you." She apologetically lies once more before turning and leaving the man alone in the dark.

#writing #story #fanfic #hdsc-ace #writeblr #am writing #storytelling #oc #writerblr #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight #marvel #marvelfanfic #fanfiction #khonshu #mr knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely

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countlessrealities · 2 years ago

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@imprvdente sent: ❤ for Rick & Fish Ultimate ship meme || Accepting !

Sex; Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car spaceship | BDSM | No sex [[ To ne honest, Rick is kinky as hell and he’d try everything at least once. So whatever Fish is comfortable with, you can bet that he’ll do it xD I left those two options in italics ‘cause I don’t know if they are Fish’s cup of it. If they are, then you can bet that he’ll be up for them. As for the “morning sex part”, they don’t really sleep sleep together, so the occasions for that are pretty rare to start with. ]]

Would my character…

Marry them? Yes | No [[ I mean, he did drunk marry her, but if asked to pop the question sober, he’d say no. Not just because he isn’t in love with her, but also because, after how it ended with his Diane, he’s not the marriage type anymore. ]]

Have sex on the first date? Yes | No [[ They don’t date (yet), and they start off as fuck buddies first and foremost, so they had sex even before the first date xD ]]

Confess their attraction first? Yes | No [[ He was the first one to give in and kiss her, so I’d say that he was the one to “confess” first, even if it took them a while and a lot of tension to get there xD ]]

Have children/adopt? Yes | No [[ After losing Beth, I can’t see Rick having an other kid. Besides, he has Morty (even if he’s more of a friend than anything else) and Summer, so that space is already filled for him. ]]

Die for your character? Yes | No [[ He cares for Fish, even if he won’t admit it, but he’s still a very selfish person with an unfinished revenge business. They aren’t close enough for him to make a sacrifice like that (the only person he’d kill himself for it’s probably Morty, canonically wise too). So if he had to choose between the two of them, he’d either find a way to save them both or save himself. ]]

Cheat on your character? Yes | No [[ Rick is a lot of bad things, but he isn’t a cheater. If he and Fish ever started an actual relationship, he wouldn’t cheat on her. ]]

Lie to them? Yes | No [[ He lies to everyone, so she wouldn’t be an exception to that rule. At times he’d do it for selfless reasons, others for selfish ones, but he’d definitely do it. ]]

Cuddle after sex? Yes | No [[ He’d never admit it out aloud, but he likes cuddling after sex. So if Fish is game and accepts not to tease him about it, he’ll cuddle the shit out of her pretending to be already half asleep xD ]]

#[ headcanons :: c137 Rick ]#[ Let's spar and get it on baby 'cause your bruises on my ego taste so sweet :: Rick & Fish ]#imprvdente #[[ I'm basing this on their current relationship ]]#[[ so they are fuck buddies for the most! ]]

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poorly-caffeinated-diatribes · 9 months ago

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This!! Piracy is actually super ethical most of the time, and it's a tool for preservation, anti-capitalism, and acceptance.

Streaming services have been known to produce exclusive shows, and then to cancel and even go so far as to remove the show entirely from their platform. Shows like Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies are only available through piracy sites and torrents. The same goes for movies likeThe Abyss or Mannequin, which, although being an 80s rom-com and therefore subject to rightful feminist criticism, are still movies that are hard to find unless you scour secondhand DVD stores.

Similarly, this affects music, like the Motown single Do I Love You (Indeed I Do) by Frank Wilson, of which nearly all copies were destroyed, never to see the light of day. There are less than five existing original copies, and though there are versions that were ripped and put on YouTube, there is no guarantee that they will always exist on the internet, and unless you happen to have 25k lying around, your best bet for "owning" this single is piracy.

Not to mention the many indie bands that released albums and then pulled their work off of streaming services. There's a punk band named Blaster the Rocket Man that once pulled their one and only existing album off of Spotify and Apple Music, and although they eventually put the music back up, piracy was the only method available for a bit. And they're far from the only band this has affected. Many people who grew up in the indie punk-rock/garage band scene lost all their favourite artists and are only able to find a few of them through online piracy.

Video game companies stop manufacturing games all the time, and with changing technologies there are many old game systems that simply don't work anymore for most people. I know I can't afford to go out and refurbish an old CRT television, and so I don't expect most people can. Games like the (legit garbage game, but an example nevertheless) ET Atari game, most of which have been destroyed and lost through time, have no way of being played without emulators. Games myself and other gamers can only really play on emulators include previously famous ones like Bad News Baseball, T-2: Judgement Day, 1942, and some of Tomb Raider games. These are games that are cult classics or that were loved by many kids in the 80's, 90's, and early 00's but will never be remade or manufactured by a company again.

Now, software in particular, is where it gets more complicated. I recommend checking out this video by Ben Jordan over on YouTube, because he explains it really well. He's worked in the music industry his whole life, and he's used a lot of different softwares, and he has some very interesting things to say about it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7EHRpnJICQ

All in all, as a TLDR for his video, software piracy is often beneficial given that companies often steal their own software from others. You'd be surprised how much money these people make, and there is a wide web of lies and complications behind the scenes that ultimately show that, especially the big software companies, are really really not your friends. Part of the reason that we have legal issues with piracy, especially software piracy, is because of companies that stole their own products from other creatives and then made enough of a fuss in courts that people took their side.

This aside (and my apologies, I know this is a longer post), piracy is also often the only method for many individuals to get media that they otherwise wouldn't have access to. This includes countries where certain media is nearly impossible to get. As you can imagine, due to trade agreements, politics, and media publishers ultimately being greedy and messed up, there are plenty of countries that never see a lot of the media that people in the west might find super easy to get ahold of. Places like the Middle East are generally thought of last in terms of media releases. People in places like China that have their own privatized systems often rely on VPNs and piracy to get ahold of certain media as well. Due to media distribution BS, a lot of countries and regions get the short end of the stick.

Another reason piracy can be helpful is if you live in a particularly strict household, or a household where certain media is frowned upon. I pirated a shit ton of queer media in high school because my parents didn't want me watching things like Love, Simon or Carol. When you're a kid with no job, no money, and homophobic parents, piracy can be your friend.

Now, unfortunately with piracy there are definite downsides. Pirating indie companies and indie films or things like that can get very murky, so when you watch things that were created by an independent team of people who generally should get the money for their product, the common courtesy is to just pay for it. For bigger companies, lost media, and other complicated situations, piracy is great. In general, there are more ups than downs with piracy, and it's not the big bad guy that companies make it out to be.

They just shut down the eShop too lmao

#piracy #internet #the internet #fun facts #important #information #psa #this has been a psa #public service announcement #anti capitalism #anti capitalist #media #lost media #physical media #collector #for obvious reasons

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takeeachdayonebookatatime · 8 months ago

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Why did you elbow me? 208

Achilles Castle part 110

Lemonade and lies Part 53

Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek undercover part 17

Kate/Stana: pov I thank him for making me food. My phone is ringing ugh it's my Dr Burkett, Lanie or Nick must have called him. I chat with him for a bit, Dr Burkett says he wants to talk to Nick. After finishing my soup I get up to go take a nap. Nick follows me into the room saying Dr Burkett suggested you wear a pulse ox-meter and the big heart monitor while you sleep just as a precaution because yesterday and the day before yesterday you weren't 100 and now today you are not 100. Fine whatever. I turn on my sound machine and get comfortable in bed making sure my anti-roll pillow is in place.

Officer Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek/Greig: pov Kate is laying on the bed with her arms up in a safe position with her PTSD i don't want to trigger her. Lanie is back on the phone explaining how to hook Kate up to the monitor. I close the door leaving it cracked so I can hear her in case of an emergency. I have the ampstrip app downloaded onto my phone, so I can keep an eye on her numbers. Me and Kate have discussed this when I downloaded the app. I'm not supposed to check it constantly, stress about it or worry about it. Just because she gave me access does not mean I can take advantage of my access.

Carl: pov it hasn't been that long since Stana and Greig left. I’m almost done with Johnny, is that a noise outside, just great there is a truck from the gas company outside and the employees are heading towards my house. The 2 guys are knocking on my door saying they are from the gas company going door to door checking for gas leaks. I can't let them in. I still have Johnny in the basement. I haven't finished cutting him up yet. I agree to let them in, I hope they are not here long.

Undercover officer 1 Jimmy: pov I pull out my meter and search the house high and low, me and my partner are getting a search warrant. The judge was nice enough to put a rush on it. For the meantime me and my partner are dressed as people from the gas company hoping he will let us in. We have to be careful about this because he could be armed and dangerous. In the basement I look around while Carl is talking. My partner points out some suspicious stuff. Carl doesn't know we are cops and are recording this conversation. While my partner has him distracted for a few seconds I quickly take a few pictures. I’m pretty sure I see blood in a few spots. I think fast and say you 100 percent have a gas leak. What is going to happen is you are either going to wait outside or at the neighbors it is unsafe to be in the house it can explode. We have a few more houses to check after yours. We are sorry for bothering you but this is dangerous I manage to get him and his helper outside.

Undercover officer 2 Dawson: pov me and Jimmy manage to handcuff them both saying you are under arrest for a speeding ticket. Back in the truck Jimmy calls headquarters to let them know that there is a possible dead body in the house. Backup arrives in a few minutes Carl and Joe are being taken to the police station. All of us are searching the house high and low. I bet Nick and Kate had no idea they would stumble onto a murder scene.

Dave: pov school has just let out for the day and me and Alexis decided to have a picnic lunch in the park I always have a blanket in the car so we can sit in the grass at the park and not get dirty, instead of getting fast food which is not good for you the both of decide to stop at the grocery store and get subs since the store has a sub counter. I'm getting the sub with everything on it. Alexis is getting a roast beef one. Aisle 4 has the chips so that is the aisle we are heading to after grabbing a few different types of chips, me and Alexis head down the soda/juice aisle to get some drinks. Once I paid for everything the both of us headed back to the car to start our journey to the park.

Jenny: pov ugh my back hurts so bad, I have a pregnancy class at the hospital it's supposed to help teach us women techniques that can help us during childbirth. I grab a snack before I leave since I'm always hungry. I carefully cut up the apple to snack on. The last thing I need is to cut my finger on some fruit. The ride to the hospital is short, I park in front since I'm pregnant. The instructor's name is Virginia berth, I feel so bad for her with that name. She teaches us breathing techniques and a bunch of other important stuff. She even showed us a video of a woman giving birth. This one woman in the class looked like she was going to be sick or faint. Once The class was over I got in the car and decided to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things before I headed home.

Officer Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek/Greig: pov I think Kate is up I go to check on her, in the bedroom I unplug her from the monitors and check the data it looks like she did okay, hey Kate how was your nap did you sleep okay she says yes. Do you want to do something before dinner? I updated her on what happened to Carl and how the police found a dead body in his house and I called Kovitch and told him what happened and that they might want to talk to me and you but I don't think it's a good idea. He said glad it wasn't me. To be continued. ….

#fanfiction #castle #caskett #stanakatic #katebeckett

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icecoldwilliams · 1 year ago

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absolutely hit us with the spicy headcanons ~

|| Spicy tips Sinday Monday almost Tuesday for you and all the lovelies coming right up bb~ 💜

❄️| First & foremost: Don't judge a book by it's cover. Nina is incredibly sensual once you get past that sheet of ice she surrounds herself in. She's very confident & comfortable with her own sexuality, and typically views her libido in a rationalized light, seeing it simply both as a natural human itch that needs to occasionally be scratched, and a powerful tool should a mission require a little... gain of trust 💅

❄️| If there's anywhere Nina's borderline narcissistic tendencies show themselves the most, it's lowkey in the bedroom. — Oh she already knows her own allure, while nice, she needs no reminders there. But on the other hand should the sweet nothings you whisper in her ear or against her skin contain any praise of say.. how fatal, cunning, or strong she is etc... 👀💜 — She's definitely attracted to power, and similarly so she adores being recognized as powerful herself. Use this as you will 💜

❄️| While she's definitely more so of a dom who loves being revered however, unlike what T5 seems to suggest of her sisters tastes um 😬 Nina is frankly disgusted by that level of masochistic behavior. Which is probably a big part of why she'd gladly trade 90% of her fanbase for a Klondike bar.

❄️| Richard was a very traditional man when it came to the Williams Irish roots. He made sure Nina & Anna were taught to speak fluent Gaeilge and thanks to it's declining in global usage, Nina herself typically speaks it to this day in any situation when she wants to shroud the meaning of her words. — One instance being the affectionate nicknames she might give you, another situation being when she doesn't want you to know how much you're getting to her when things reach a certain... climactic point. In that case you can expect the Gaeilge & English dictionaries in her brain to sometimes ahem.. blur and mix a lil bit.

❄️| Rest assured unless you're a target, Nina does not convolute any tools related to her job with pleasure. Knife and blood play are not among her list of kinks, all guns & knives will be kept out of bed. — However she is not against the use of blindfolds and handcuffs. (Just don't do the whole cops & criminals thing w her.. not unless you want to find out how quickly she can get out of those and walk out that door.)

❄️| She is also not against threesomes, the assassin has participated in a few in the past and admits with the right people it can be rather.. thrilling. Making it even more so a pity she had to kill the other participants afterwards 😔. (No I am not talking about that which we will not speak of, get that movie out of your brain and into the depths of hell where it belongs thank you)

❄️| Other than it simply just being a huge turn on for her, Nina loves dirty talk in bed bc 1) it usually lets her know how much she's gotten under your skin and 2) she's found heat of the moment confessions can be very telling in regards to ones true motives. 🤭

❄️| Another huge turn on for her is body worship. This woman has been made to feel like nothing more than a cold walking weapon for most of her life ; a tool for others to use and nothing more. So a little body worship here and there can be the perfect reminder that you don't see her in that light ; that you see & admire her for what she really is. — And yes, she will return the favor 💜

❄️| With how much she travels, you can more than expect the occasional risqué phone call. Ones that leave you in a contradictory state of satisfaction and longing for her return even more, and her relishing in the fact that she could get you to come undone with her voice alone. 💜

❄️| And finally, let it be known that this assassin loves the occasional game. Bets over who will finish first, who can make who moan first. What happens if she pushes this button of yours, pulls at this string to make you come undone etc. etc. — Bottom line, that little talent she has of finding every way to get under someone's skin in an interrogation room, doesn't go anywhere in intimate situations. And you can bet her own sadistic curiosity won't let her stop until she finds each and every way to make you come undone in the best of ways 😉

#⁺˚*𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒿𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔.*˚⁺ - Headcanons #⁺˚*𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹.*˚⁺ - Answers #⁺˚*𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉*˚⁺ - ℕ𝕊/𝔽/𝕋 #|| I warned you it was lonng 😭#|| 4 maybe 5 years idek anymore of not posting spicy spice & this what happens lmao #long post tw

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stormy333 · 3 years ago

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Personality Reality?

“I pulled out all of my skeletons, crowned them, and planted roses at their feet. Now my enemies have nothing to use to threaten me.” - B. Vigil

Hello and welcome back to another SBC2K21! How are you? So, today we’ll be discussing personality traits! I’m just going to say this right now; this might shock some, but it also might not. Who knows? Anyways let's dive in?

As I mentioned above tonight's prompt goes on about personality traits, now I suppose I could do a survey and see what people think my personality is and what traits I have BUT this whole prompt challenge is (granted from 2016) based on journaling prompts. With my own twist for our realm of course! Which brings me to the quote at the start of the post. I wanted to try to sum up my personality with a quote (shocked are we that it isn’t a Swift quote? I know me to!) honestly there are so many quotes that could sum up my personality but this one in particular I feel does the best job and as I explain my traits you might be confused but just remember you are your own worst enemy and your greatest mate. Now to my personality.

So, to start I am the kind of person that um I guess you could say I code switch? Like it’s not me being fake it's me being more of that part of myself than I typically would be. I have a girly side, a tomboy, a country girl, a mad woman (mad like insane), a nerdy book worm, and maternal. See all of these run together and make me who I am. I don’t and have never defined myself as a girly girl or tom boy or anything specific and still don’t. I am all of these. I have a strong but also passive personality. I don’t like conflict; I avoid that shit at all costs. But if you’ve been made one of mine and someone try's anything BET there's about to be a problem.

I am also very loud or very quiet depending on four factors. (1) Who I am with (2) How comfortable I am with said person(s) (3) My mood (4) If I feel wanted or not. Well, I guess five actually because it also depends on what we are talking about.

I tend to be strong willed as well if it comes to something I'm passionate about but being someone who doesn’t like conflict if someone pushes enough, I give in because it’s safer (not really but this is how my brain works). A hopeless romantic type who believes in fairytales and true love and all that BS. I don’t know if that counts as a trait or not? Loyal to a deadly extent by all means. I would rather joke about my fuck ups and have them out in the open and there for everyone to see (See how the quote fits?) than hide them and let someone eventually find them and use them against me. I had secrets for years, from myself, from family, not to mention the secrets that tore family and friends apart. Secrets and lies and to me they're the same thing. Nope not happening. No lies. No secrets. Not anymore.

I don’t have a filter. I do censor myself because I’m one of those people that hates hurting others even the slightest bit (so I'd rather poison myself, right?) I don’t just censor to protect I censor to respect as well though. Censoring myself takes a lot of energy though. So lately I've just thrown that out the window.

I get a roller coaster of emotions very easily. Typically, I am decent at suppressing it until I'm alone but in general if I get “mad” I freak out and cuss and throw things. Same reaction when I am sad. I’m one of those ones that as long as I’m expressing it it’ll be alright, but the real problem is when I drop off the face of the earth and go through all the phases of grief at once (that’s what it looks like) and begin pouring my soul into writing and cleaning.

I try to be the only one who can hurt myself. Once everyone sees that I am my own worst enemy but still am crowned queen then how can they do any damage? Hopefully this made sense to you all because I know my brain can be confusing af sometimes!

Anyways as always leave a like and a comment if you would like more prompted posts and don’t forget to join us this Friday at 7pm for another SBC2K21!

With Love

Hailey

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

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Lies; Don't Wanna Know

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: masturbation (f), kinda voyeurism, oral (f receiving), slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, a little praise kink Matty, unprotected sex (wrap them joysticks okay), creampie, implied cockwarming I think

Genre: smut & Angst

Summary: "Only in the evening could you give yourself to me, cause the night is your woman, and she'll set you free" - Lies by MARINA

Part 2

***

The first time you found him in your apartment you thought for sure someone was on their way to kill you. You'd just walked back in from letting your friend out and your heart leapt from your throat when you saw the red suited man by your window.

"Daredevil?" You gasp in disbelief.

"Do you live here?" He glances at you over his shoulder.

"Yes. Why are you here?" You whisper.

"Just- waiting."

"For me?"

"No."

"But you're in my apartment?"

"Shh!" He snaps.

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking and entering."

"If you're going to call the cops I'll be gone long before they get here."

"I wasn't planning on calling the cops. You're a good guy- I think."

"It's not black and white. Some people wouldn't call me good."

"From what I've read you've helped a lot of people. Is someone coming here? Am I in danger or something?"

"What? No. I'm here because nobody would look for me here."

"You're hiding?"

"I'm regrouping."

"Will you be here for long?"

"No. Probably not."

"Do you need anything? Water or- something?" You ask unsure of how to handle the situation and you watch his head tilt before he's looking over his shoulder again.

"Are you offering me refreshments?" He asks with underlying amusement in his voice.

"Look this is weird but I'm good host. Even to unexpected guests I guess." You say. Daredevil moves away from the window finally and walks directly to you, leaning in close enough to feel your breathing change.

"You should be careful offering that kind of hospitality. There are some dangerous people in Hell's Kitchen." He says lowly.

"I'm offering it to you." You reply, trying hard to keep your voice steady.

"I don't need anything no. Thanks for offering I guess. I'll be out of your hair soon." He says stepping back over to your window. You let out a shaky breath once he's out of your face. His ears prickle at the sound as he tries to ignore it along with the way your heartbeat is thrumming unusually fast while you try to ignore the way his closeness put your body on high alert.

"Uh- have you- been here before?" You ask him.

"No. I don't make a habit of going into people's apartments. It's dangerous. I just- I didn't have another choice this time." He says.

"Okay." You mutter. It's very interesting to see Daredevil up close this way. To most of Hell's Kitchen, he's hardly more than a shadow. Showing up out of nowhere to save people and disappearing just as fast. He's tall and you'd bet money that his suit hides one hell of a physique based on the tricks he pulls. It's maybe ten minutes later that he climbs onto the ledge of your window.

"Sorry for the inconvenience miss. Have a good night." He nods to you.

"If you- decide to make it a habit of going into apartments, you're welcome here." You rush out before he can jump.

"You should really be more careful with who you invite to your home." He says with that underlying tone of amusement again but before you can think of a reply he's gone. Out the window and into the night. You're tempted to see if you can spot him but you decide against it, closing your window and getting yourself ready for bed. That night your hand made its way between your legs with the vigilante's moniker falling recklessly from your lips in breathy cries, sandwiched between expletives as you try to relieve the ache left by his low voice and quiet confidence. Even though you offered, you don't really expect to see Daredevil again, that didn't stop the rumbling of his words from continuing to plague your mind. You find yourself trying to alleviate the feeling he stirred that night more often than not, his name on your tongue practically becoming part of your nightly routine while Daredevil struggles to ignore your moans and whimpers all over town. You have no place in the mess that is his life, he shouldn't see you, shouldn't get you tangled up with him. He tells himself this over and over again yet each night the sounds of your pleasure are distractingly easy for him to find no matter what he's doing that shouldhave his attention. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally cave and visit you again. Daredevil prides himself on his control but one too many beers after a particularly busy night has him retracing the path he's used at least a dozen times without ever going where he wants to be. When he climbs through your living room window you're walking back to your room after a shower and fear seizes your heart when you hear noise. You creep as quietly as you can down the hall, peaking around the corner to see the masked man once again standing in your home.

"Daredevil?"

"You gotta stop sounding so surprised every time I'm here." He chuckles walking over to you.

"What are you doing here? I thought this wasn't a habit of yours." You say clutching your towel tightly against your chest as he closes the distance between you.

"I'm thinking I might make it one. How does that sound?" He asks, your faces are centimeters apart and you swear you've forgotten how to breathe. "Did I lose you sweetheart?" He asks with a smile that sets your chest on fire.

"N-no. Not lost." You manage.

"Good. I'd like to kiss you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You whisper with a nod. He closes the small space between your lips and his, kissing you softly at first but the longer it goes on the more desperate it feels.

"Your room?" He pants out when you eventually pull away. You kiss him again, with your hands on his biceps, leading him down the hall and through your bedroom door where he's quick to toss you onto your bed. You gasp when he tugs your towel from you and pulls you to the edge of your mattress. He kisses you again but quickly this time, marking a trail down your neck and to your chest. He stops long enough to tongue at your nipples, nipping and suckling at the hardened buds until your back is arching high off your bed. His hands grab onto your hips as he continues kissing down your body and when his tongue dips between your folds the whimper that leaves your mouth makes his head spin. His mouth is eager against you and loud with it, groaning and making slurping noises as he laps up your juices.

"Fuck you're good." You breathe out, tightly gripping your sheets. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves and his hold on your hips tightens when you start to squirm under his ministrations. He's determined to pull as many noises from you as he can while he's here, for once being able to directly cause them is an opportunity he will not waste. One hand joins his head between your legs, two fingers thrusting into you.

"You gonna cum for me sweetheart?" He mutters against you curling his fingers inside you.

"God, yes." You moan as you grind against his fingers and mouth.

"Go ahead baby let go for me." He says before sucking on your clit hard enough to coax your orgasm from you immediately. You let out a scream as pleasure washes over you, body bowing while he works you through it, pulling away only once you sink back into your sheets. "You sound so pretty when you cum." He says crawling back up your body to kiss you.

"You sound pretty when you're making me cum." You say against his lips and he groans at your words.

"Let's see if I can do it again." He says nipping at your neck as he stands to shove his pants just far enough to free his dick from its confines.

"Doubting your own skills mister vigilante?" You smirk.

"Not even close. Just don't pass out before I'm done with you." He smiles and for the first time you realize he has the cutest dimple.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You joke as he lines himself up with your entrance. He huffs out a laugh,

"Shit- condom?" He asks stepping back.

"I don't have any but- I'm on birth control and I'm clean. You?" You ask.

"Clean as a whistle. You sure you're okay with it?"

"Yes now are you going to fuck me or not?" He chuckles at your boldness but doesn't reply as he sinks into you with a groan.

"Fuck you're tight." He grunts as he starts up a rhythm. His thrusts are easy at first but with each quiet whimper you let out his hips seem to move quicker, harsher, deeper as he works to draw more noises from you.

"S-shit don't stop babe." You whine, writhing underneath him, his hands on your waist minimizing your movements.

"Don't plan on it. Not until you cum on my dick." He huffs, chest heaving as he focuses on the way his hips collide with yours.

"Please! Please make me cum." You moan, grinding up to meet his thrusts as best you can. He plows into you unrelentingly, holding you tight enough to bruise in the best way possible. His fingers slip between your bodies and find your clit with ease. He rubs tight circles against the sensitive bud, pulling more moans from you as you feel your orgasm approaching fast.

"You're close aren't you? That's it sweetheart. Take that dick. Cum on it." His words set you off like a bomb, your body quaking with the force of your release as you practically scream. "Fuck yeah." He smirks, mostly to himself as he focuses now on chasing his own end within your walls. His thrusts are becoming erratic and you're sure he's close.

"Come on Daredevil. I know you wanna cum. Do it baby. Let me feel it, fuck." You coax him towards his end, wrapping your legs around him. A few more sloppy thrusts have him stilling inside you and you feel ropes of his cum paint your insides.

"Fuck. That was good." He breathes against your skin, his head buried in your neck as he comes down. His helmet feels cold against your cheek but you welcome the coolness with your elevated body temperature.

"Agreed." You chuckle. He stays like that with you until he feels your heartrate settle and he's sure you're asleep. He's quick to collect himself and disappear the way he came, but he leaves a, for some reason, printed note. Who the hell prints these kinds of notes in advance?

Best night out I've had in a while. X

At first, you assume it was a one time thing and you won't see him again unless your life is in danger, but that night starts a routine for you both. After a night of patrolling Hell's Kitchen he'd sneak into your apartment through your window and take what he wants from you. Some nights, he just eats you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and finding respite in the sounds of your pleasure that fill the night but more often than not he'd find his comfort with his dick buried inside you, fucking you open until you ache and leak with him. The first month of this unspoken arrangement he only visits once a week, sure that it was best not to come more frequently. Soon once a week turns to twice and three times, until he's visiting almost every night. Climbing in through your window that you'd started to simply leave open for him and spending hours in your sheets, always disappearing before the sun begins to peak out from beyond the horizon. Sometimes he waits for you to fall asleep, other times you chat with him as he redresses and sleep only once he's gone. For several months this is the extent of your relationship. You don't ask his name, as you're sure he can't or won't tell you, since you're sure that's why he doesn't ask yours. He's shrouded in mystery and for a while it works for you both. He has an outlet for whatever stresses him at night and you get good consistent sex with someone you feel safe with. You don't even consider asking for more until one night when something different happens.

Your vigilante fuck buddy is railing you like usual, pulling whimpers and whines from you with ease. Your third, or maybe fourth orgasm is approaching, and quickly.

"F-fuck, I'm close babe." You moan out, head dropping to the bed as Daredevil takes you from behind.

"Yeah? You wanna cum again for me?" He huffs out.

"Yes! Please, yes." You whine pushing back against his thrusts.

"Say my name. It's Matthew. You wanna cum, say it." He grunts, leaning over to toy with your clit. Caught up in your pleasure, you don't even think about the request before complying, in that moment you'd have done anything he asked.

"Matthew- please Matthew please make me cum." You mewl desperately.

"That's it sweetheart. Cum for me." He says upping the pressure against your clit and forcing you over the edge with a final cry. "Say it again. Say my name again." He commands as he thrusts into you, trying to reach his own high.

"M-Matthew- Matt, fuck, feels so good Matt. Want you to cum. Please. Please, wanna feel it in me." You pant out, knowing how worked up he gets when you beg him for his release. It seems the addition of his name sets him off even quicker than usual because before you know it he's spilling into you with a groan.

"Fuck, you always know just what to say." Daredevil, or Matthew, it seems, says kissing the top of your head sweetly as he pulls out of you. He quickly tucks himself back into the pants of his suit and then grabs a wet towel to clean you up a bit. "I gotta go but, I'll be back later."

"Yeah- see ya." You mutter. That night you don't manage to get any sleep after he leaves. He gave you his name and he doesn't even seem to realize it. You know next to nothing about him, except the way his voice drops when he's drunk off your taste, how he grunts and groans when he's near release, the way he bites his lip when he's struggling to control himself- you could write a book on the way he is in the bedroom and you don't even know what he looks like. Honestly you were fine with all that, except now you have his name and you can't help but wonder more about your mystery dick appointment. What does he do during the day? Where does he live? What does he look like? As much as you want to ignore these questions you just can't. One piece of information was apparently the key to a doorway you wanted to keep locked. Now all you can think about is all the things you don't know.

When he climbs through your window the next night it's easy to put the questions out of your mind the minute his lips are on yours and to your credit, you manage to go two orgasms without getting in your head about the whole thing but by the time he's spilling into you, you're focused on the questions you want to ask him so, when he starts getting himself together to leave you bite the bullet.

"Hey D?" You call before he can get out of your room.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why don't you ever stay?" You ask. You figure this question is a safe place to start.

"I have a day job and- this suit doesn't exactly work for inconspicuous travel during the day. So I need to be out of here before sun up."

"You have a day job?"

"Of course I do. Vigilante work doesn't exactly pay."

"Well what do you do?" You ask and he lets out a short chuckle.

"What's with all the questions doll you haven't asked me this many things since the night we met."

"I just realized I know nothing about you." You shrug.

"That's kind of the whole point of a secret identity sweetheart."

"Right except, last night you asked me to call you by name, Matthew. Why would you do that?"

"We've been hooking up for months now and you think it's weird that I gave you my first name?"

"It was my understanding that I shouldn't know anything about you that's how we've operated for months. Why change the rules now?" You ask and he sighs.

"I like the way things sound when you say them in throes of passion. Wanted to hear if my name sounded just as nice." His voice is low. "Didn't realize it'd eat you up so badly. Would've kept it to myself." He adds after a moment.

"I'm not being eaten up by it don't get ahead of yourself."

"Harsh." He chuckles. "Why is this such a big issue for you?"

"I was fine when you were an anonymous guy in a mask but you've given me an inch and I know I'm only going to want more."

"I don't have more to give you I thought you understood that."

"I do, that's why I'm telling you this Matthew."

"We've been doing this for months with no problem sweetheart come on." He huffs.

"Yeah when you were a faceless vigilante who I knew absolutely nothing about. Telling me your name just- it reminded me of howlittlethisis. There is so much more and- call me a primadonna I guess but I want it all."

"I can't do that. I can't give you that." He grits out.

"I know that! I know you can't! I'm not asking you to but I can't keep taking bits and pieces. It's not enough. Not for me. It's easy for you, you put on a mask to come see me and during the day you're a whole other person- this vigilante shit is obviously a very little part of who you are and even then I barely know anything about it. I don't want bits and pieces of who you are."

"Then what do you want from me? Where do we go from here?"

"You go home. What I want you can't give me." You tell him.

"Goodnight sweetheart." He says.

"And Matthew?" You call out once again making him pause. "Please, don't come over again." You say quietly. He lets your words hang in the air for a moment before he says anything.

"If you ever need me, just shout." He manages to croak out.

"Shout?" You frown.

"Shout. I'll hear. I swear." He says quietly before he leaves your room, presumably disappearing like he has every night before this for months and you feel a part of you leave with him. You didn't want to admit it but you and Matt are no longer a good fit. It was a casual thing but it hurts to let him go even if it's for the best. He's never going to love you. So what's the use?

***

Check Out Part 2

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