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magicman111 · 4 years ago

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A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

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miraculousandbts · 3 years ago

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OT7 | Bosses Of A Kind

Summary: Two bitches at work target you, just because you’re close to the CEOs, who they were crushing on. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t know you.

Pairing: None

Genre: Fluff, Savage (?)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light profanity (I should probably put that in my other posts too…). I guess that’s it.

You were hurriedly getting ready. Somehow managing to comb your hair and zip your pants at the same time, you hopped on your right foot while wearing a sock on your left one, fully knowing that there was a ninety percent chance you'd fall down. Heaving a sigh when you tripped but caught yourself before you fell, you did the same thing for your other foot.

You grabbed your shoes, hair tie, car keys, and office bag and ran to your car in just your socks. You saw your neighbour and a good friend shake her head at you, adorning an amused smile. She was used to your antics. You gave her a small smile in greeting and got in your car.

You started your car and tried to slip your feet into your semi-formal shoes. Finally stopping your car at a traffic light, you tied your hair. You bent down and put on the velcro on your shoes. Not wanting to wear heels, finding the men's office shoes too formal and sport shoes too casual, you had opted for some simple and stylish school shoes.

You weren't like most girls in your office, wearing tops or shirts with opened buttons showing cleavage, and pairing that with skirts and heels and wearing a lot of makeup and stylish hair. Some women did wear suits, but that looked like they were overdoing it. You simply wore a normal buttoned shirt with trousers with your hair always tied up. You also didn't wear any make up except some lip balm. And your friend f/n was just like you...as long as it came to outfits; she was more girly than you could imagine.

You finally reached your office, parking your car and being extremely careful to not hit another car. You took the thick file from the passenger seat and opened it, checking every document properly and mentally ticking off stuff from your list of things required for the meeting today.

You gathered the papers band put them back on the file. Taking your office bag and tucking your file beneath your armpit, you stepped out. You just stood there for a moment, relishing in the chirping of the birds and swishing of the trees with closed eyes and a serene smile, thankful that one of your bosses was just as much of a nature lover as you were. You opened your eyes when you heard a couple of snickers. Looking around, you saw the two girls known throughout the company for gossiping and crushing on the seven bosses, instead of doing the work they were given. You often wondered why they were still working when they never even submitted their work on time and always lacked behind. The only thing they were great in was spreading rumours.

As soon as they saw you looking their way, they looked away and tried to hide their laughing faces unsuccessfully. You just closed your car door and made your way towards them. Thinking you were coming for them, they moved to the side and nervously pretended that they were laughing at something they had been talking about. But all you did was enter the building, hurrying up a little when you checked your wrist watch and saw that the meeting was starting in half an hour.

You didn't care what they thought about you; you were going to do what you wanted to.

You dropped all your stuff on your desk, and took all the things required for the meeting to the conference room. Inside, you found seven men sitting there doing nothing. One had his head on the desk, sighing every now and then, clearly indicating he was bored. Three of them were talking about something you couldn't hear about.

One of them was being productive and was going through files, while the another was just sitting there staring into nothing. The last one was busy on his phone, and donned a set of headphones, looking out of place in the room.

They were your seven bosses, and none of their antics surprised you at all. Seokjin was the one chatting with Jimin and Hoseok. Namjoon was the responsible one going through the meeting files. Taehyung was the one getting bored. Yoongi was the one with the headphones, and Jungkook was the one staring into space. (Inspired by Jungshook.)

You cleared your throat, and everyone but Yoongi looked at you. Satisfied, you walked towards Namjoon and handed him the file. And nodded his head as a thank you and went back to proofreading the documents. When they saw that it was just you, they went back to doing what they were before. You made your way towards the cabinet and took out some other files. Sitting between Namjoon and Jungkook, you started doing your work.

*****

You plopped down on your very comfortable chair in front of your desk. That meeting was exhausting. At least the deal was finalised. You just laid there for a bit, closing your eyes. You would have definitely fallen asleep if someone didn't poke your stomach suddenly. You opened an eye and looked up in search for the culprit, fully knowing who was it.

As soon as you're eyes fell on her, she gave you a cheeky grin. "Hey, y/n!" She innocently cooed and fluttered her eyelashes. She was such a girl. A lot of times both of you wondered how you both were friends despite being polar opposites, but as they say opposites attract. This was just not that kind of attraction. You narrowed your eyes at her playfully. "F/n, you bitch!" You got up suddenly, taking her by surprise, and started poking her stomach. She squirmed and laughed, trying to get away from you. Thankfully, both of you had the brain enough to not be loud.

After finally calming down, you both sat down, her on your chair, and you on your desk. "How was the meeting?"

"Great. The deal's finalised. The idiots are happy. Which means that we may get to go home early today. You can thank me later." She squealed and hugged you. You smiled and returned the gestured. Then you both heard another one of your colleagues calling her. Giving you a small wave, she went towards him, asking about what happened. You tuned out and decided that you finally had energy enough to start working.

You switched on your PC, logging in. Just as you started typing, a voice was heard behind you. "Miss y/n." You could recognise that voice anywhere. You got up and turned around, mentally grumbling that you hadn't gotten even a little bit of work done the whole day. "Mr. Kim," you saw Seokjin. And then Namjoon came, "and Kim," you furrowed your eyebrows as Taehyung followed Namjoon and came in your line of vision, "and Kim?" You said the last Kim like you were asking a question.

All the three men looked amused and you raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just wanted you to invite to a thank you lunch. Again." Namjoon seated himself on the edge of your desk, as Taehyung leaned against Seokjin. "And you needed to come here yourself to tell me that? And you brought not one more person, but two. Mind tellin' me what's actually going on?"

Taehyung and Namjoon smiled bashfully. "We were getting too happy and too bored." Taehyung explained. You raised an eyebrow, mentally noting you have been doing that a little too many times. "So what do you want me to do? Entertain you?" You leaned against the other end of your desk, opposite Namjoon. Seokjin sat down. "Yes."

"Shut up!" You laughed, the three men joining in. "Anyway, if there's a lunch, you have to— "

"Invite f/n too. We know. She's been told already. Chill." Seokjin interrupted you.

The four of you spent your entire afternoon until lunch break sitting there chatting about everything and anything. You saw some girls shoot you looks of jealously and hatred. But you only ignored them, not wanting to get into silly fights for no reason; it's not like you were crushing on either of the CEOs. And if you started using your mouth at those girls, they wouldn't stand a chance.

At last, the lunch break came, and all of you went to a nearby restaurant, well-liked in the area. Most of your colleagues often found themselves there, including you. You and f/n both noticed those two girls following you all, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. They were the ones laughing at you in the morning and the ones who were giving you glares just minutes ago.

F/n rolled her eyes in your direction, and you gave her a look which said 'what did you expect from them?' Reaching inside the big building, a mouth watering aroma hit you immediately, making your eyes go wide. You had been visiting this restaurant since you started your job three years ago, and yet, the food always had this effect on you. You looked at the seven men giving each other big smiles, hardly able to wait for the food. And none of you were even seated yet.

*****

You and f/n were both staring outside at the big beautiful trees and the shrubs decorating the bottom. Flowers were everywhere and they made you smile. Both of you had nothing to talk about right now and both of you were sick of the two girls being fake-asses and sticking to the boys like leeches. It was amusing to see the uncomfortable glances they sent each other and you at first, asking for help, but it got tiring when the girls just couldn't get a hint and leave you all alone in peace.

They had followed you and given a very stupid excuse to join your fun, naming our peaceful lunch as a company party and saying that they deserved to be one of the people having fun because they contributed so much to get the deal. Being the kind people the guys were, they allowed them to join, despite knowing that they didn't do any work. They weren't even given any work related to the deal in the first place.

"Oh, really?! That's great!" You heard a nasally voice pierce your peace of mind. F/n gave you a deadpan look and rolled her eyes, regretting coming here. You made a face and nodded back at her, telling her you understood. The guys were not just your seniors, they were also good friends with both of you, and you were hoping to have a good time with your favourite people and favourite food.

Instead, all you got was a headache. And they guys wouldn't even let either of you leave, as you were sitting facing each other near the window. You saw them give one of the girls a stare. She was the one who said that whatever they were talking about was great. You raised an eyebrow at Jungkook, who was sitting right next to f/n.

"They've been giving positive reactions to everything we say. The last to last deal being cancelled is not great." He whispered, not even trying to be subtle. He wanted them gone and you knew it.

And then it finally happened. The other girl turned to you. "Y/n! Why have you been so quiet? And I can just tell by what you're wearing that you don't have a sense of fashion," she gave a stale glance to f/n, who was still lost in her own world, and continued, "You should come hang out with us, we'll give you fashion advice and help you do your make and hair every morning. It's time you let go of your trousers babe."

You had made a face of distaste as soon as she had started speaking. "I would rather be like this than hang out with people like you who laugh at others enjoying the serenity of nature and stick to their bosses like glue. At least I have some dignity." Your reply was very blunt and straightforward.

Both the girls became very flustered at your reply. You hadn't realised but when that girl was speaking f/n had suddenly directed her attention at her, and had listened to your whole answer. You heard her very obnoxious laugh when you stopped speaking, and that made you smirk. You could see the seven men trying to hold in their laughter, trying not to be rude.

"Seriously, it's lunch time, from angle does this look like a company party to you? None of the work concerning the deal was given to either of you, because the whole building knows what would have happened if you were allowed to even help a little bit. And about that," you pointed an accusing finger to her tightening her hold on Jimin's arm, "do you even know Chim's birthday? His favourite colour? Even his fucking personality?! Fuck, you don't even know why his nickname is Chim in the first place.

"I will never ever be hanging out with you. Give one more look to f/n and I'll have your throats. I'm not going to convert into some bitch like you. I sometimes wonder if you even use a bra with the amount of times you've opened your shirt buttons to show off your cleavage. Learn to get a hint, both of you. That, and get out of our faces." All this time, you never even raised your voice, but somehow attracted the attention of most of your peers around you anyway.

Both of them had been getting more and more nervous by the second hearing what you were saying. You opened your wallet and took out money enough to pay for everything you all had ordered. Slamming the notes down on the table, you attempted to get out, and this time, the guys let you. F/n followed suit, and you saw her give a proud smile in your direction. The girl holding Jimin's arm let go on her own, but Yoongi had to snatch his arm from her hold. The guys walked behind you too.

You were in full mood to have a stern talk with them. F/n knew what you were thinking and went to do her own work. You went straight to the boys' office, and they could do nothing but follow you. You seated yourself on the table, taking off your shoes, opening the collar button, and hitching up your pants a little. When they all came in and closed the door, you were comfortably seated on top of the big table with crossed legs.

"Before I start talking, what's wrong Hobi? The last I heard you talk was during the meeting." He had been looking worse for wear since after the meeting, and you had thought about asking him during lunch. "This idiot didn't sleep last night, and now he's exhausted." Seokjin hit the back of his head. "C'mon guys, there's not one CEO running this big ass company, there's seven of you. You need to start taking care of yourselves."

Hoseok rubbed his face and came towards you. Keeping his forehead on your shoulder, he sighed. You rubbed his hair. "I thought I'd regain my energy during lunch by having fun with you all, but now I have a headache because of those girls. I didn't even know they were working for us."

"Me too!" You whined and kept your head on his shoulder. You heard all of them chuckle.

"Well, I guess it's going home early for both of you." Hoseok slightly raised his head. You let yourself fall behind, knowing someone will catch you. "I love you, Joon!"

"Stop being over dramatic and get out." The person who was holding you said. You opened your eyes and found an upside down Taehyung. You gave him an award-winning smile. "Fire those idiots. They've been trying to mess up with me since the day I started." Suddenly, there was blanket of quiet around the room. You got up saw them all frowning. "Why didn't you tell us?" Jimin was the one to speak up.

"Uh...because I'm a grown woman and can handle them myself?" You gave him a 'are you dumb?' expression. Being the same age came with privileges. "I mean, I'm asking you to fire them for their safety. If I see them even look in my direction one more time, I swear to god, I will break all the 206 bones in their body, exchange the places of their lungs and intestines, and dispose them off into the next century!"

They all were looking at you with wide eyes. "I really really think you need sleep. That headache is messing with your brain." Seokjin gently pushed you off the table and guided you and Hoseok to the door. "Call me when you reach home, both of you."

You both nodded and went to your desk. Finding f/n there, you quickly explained the whole situation to her while collecting your stuff. She bid you both goodbye and went to do her work.

You dropped off Hoseok to his house and firmly told him to go to sleep, even making him promise to you. Half an hour later, you found yourself snuggling a pillow in your bed, already half asleep.

*****

It was your third day off. You had unexpectedly gotten sick, not that you cared. You still went to office the next day, but when Jungkook saw you drinking glucose instead of water the whole day, he dragged you to their office. When you told them that you had had a fever the whole day, they had guilt tripped you into taking some leaves.

You were in your kitchen, drinking a glass of water. The fever was still there, and that's why you didn't go to work. You were hating this; even in school, you had barely ever taken a day off if you got ill. Then the doorbell rang. Wondering who could it be, you opened it, only to find a big basket filled with your favourite foods. It had a cute little card attached to the handle, and you read it.

Get well soon!

- Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook

You chuckled when you saw that all of them had signed their full names on the small card. You also found quick-to-make noodle soup in the basket.

You called Yoongi. Knowing he had the phone on speaker, you closed the door and said very loudly, "Thanks guys! I love you, you idiots!" Making a 'muah' sound, you hung up.

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criminally--reid · 5 years ago

Text

breath play

the spencer fic I've been talking about for weeks lmao

Warnings: dom!spencer, breath play, degredation, being tied up, praise, dirty talk, (this ended up being a lot less intense than I anticipated lmao my b I guess :/ )

Pairing: spencer x fem! reader

Word count: 3.2k (3,203)

○•○•○•○

A sexualsadist serial killer in Wisconsin fulfilling his ‘bdsm’ fantasies by foreplaying with his victims and unfortunately asphyxiating and stabbing them. How fun.

Reid had been suspiciously uninvolved in this case. Well.. as uninvolved as the most intelligent member of the team could be without ruining the operation. Quick blurbs of information only adding general details to the case; nothing to narrow anything down. No constantly working on the case. When Reid wasn’t needed it’s almost like he wasn’t even there. Oddly distant; his mind was always somewhere else. Something about this case in particular bothered him. It was so unlike the doctor to be so uninterested in a case. Normally, he let the case swallow him whole; engulfing him in his entirety. Mind, body, and soul set on finding the missing pieces and solving the puzzle… but not this one.

“Something on your mind, Spence?” I ask, sitting down opposite him on the jet; finally able to relax after a long day in the field.

“Did you know the average person only has sex about two times a week. Things like culture, health, and social status all effect how as well as how often people have sex. But still, just about twice a week on average.”

“There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’m just gonna say ‘no.’” Spencer chuckles, and I join in.

“Seriously though. You’ve been so distant lately. Like something about this one in particular has been bothering you.”

“I mean.. Murder cases aren’t something I often enjoy, so yeah, this whole ordeal has been kind of bothersome.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Spence.”

“It’s just that-” he contemplates for a moment before patting the seat beside him for you to accompany him. You do so, and he leans toward you, so he can whisper. “I really, really hated this case… as you could tell- obviously. I- I’ve been thinking about how the unsub used aspects of foreplay before killing his victims - you know, the tying-up and the asphyxiation stuff - and about the stuff I’ve been kinda interested in.”

You mull over everything Reid’s just said. It’s not such a longshot surprise to you. I mean with the degradation on the first encounter and the handcuffs the second, you weren’t really taken aback with what he was hinting at. “I’m gonna ask again. What exactly is bothering you, pretty boy?”

He sighs and closes his eyes; brown knitted together tightly. Whatever he’s about to say is going to come out really fast, and you prepare yourself to catch and process it all. “I’ve been thinking about how I fantasize about choking and degrading and tying up my partner and all that stuff, but with this case - this- this monster using that to inturn kill people - what if that’s me? What if I take things too far? You know my mother’s schizophrenic; what if I’m dangerous?-”

“Woah, Spence, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with being a li’l’ freaky. Just because someone used things like that to fulfill their murderous fantasies doesn’t make you a bad person. And just because there’s a possibility that you’re carrying schizophrenia, doesn’t automatically make you dangerous; you know that. There's nothing to worry about, Spence. I promise.” You put your hand on his thigh for reassurance. He places his hand a top yours, lightly tapping his fingertips on the back of your hand.

“Can we try something?” he asks quickly, making and holding eye contact with you for the first time since this conversation started.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you asking to choke me?” I ask fake flabbergasted. “Are you really asking to-”

“You know what, nevermind. At this point, I’d rather choke myself.”

“That was a joke, Spencer,” you say rolling your eyes. “But when? Now?”

“Wow, eager are we?... I was thinking more like when we land and head home for the night. We wouldn’t want to risk the rest of the team waking up to sounds of you being a pathetic mess for me, now would we?”

“N-No, sir. Of-of course not,” you gulp, taking notice of how his dominant personality is already taking shape before you.

“Perfect. We land in thirty.” He pats your thigh and turns away from you, returning to the book he was reading prior to. He motions for you to return to your seat across from him, and as you do so, he looks up at you sending a wink your way before he returns to his book indefinitely; allowing the anticipation and excitement to course through your veins for the next thirty minutes.

The landing comes soon, and the team moves to grab their stuff; eager to get home and relax for the night. You grab your bag and hurry off the plane, dragging along behind emily.

“What were you and Reid talking about?” Prentiss turns around suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“I, un, I thought you all were asleep..”

“Eh, I was in limbo I guess; you know. I just heard him rambling and hoped he was okay.”

“Oh yeah. He’s fine. Just uh- just something in the book he’s reading.”

“That’s good,” she smiles and continues off the plane.

You turn around when you feel a hand drag down the curve of your ass. You glare at Reid and mouth ‘you fucker’ to which he chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender.

“Hey, y/n/,” Derek says walking over to your desk as you put your files away and zip up your go-bag. “Garcia, Emily, and I are goin’ out tonight. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.. But I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?”

“Yeah forsure,” morgan replies before looking at Spencer, silently asking if he’d like to join them.

“Yeah I’m gonna have to pass, too. I think I’m gonna memorize a book instead.”

“Whatever, boy genius,” Morgan replies with a laugh. “We’ll be missing you guys.” He fake frowns before heading out with Emily and Garcia.

“Wait for me!” JJ calls in a sing-song voice as she rushes to catch up with the rest of the group, slinging her arm around Garcia’s shoulders. “To the bar!” she exclaims and they all laugh before finally leaving the office.

The clicking of a pen catches your attention and becomes even more prominent in your senses the closer it gets to your desk. You look up from your desk to see said pen held in none other than Spencer’s very attractive, fidgety hands.

“So,” he drags out, tossing the pen onto your desk with a light clank.

“Is there something you need, Doctor Reid?” you pry, looking at him innocently through your lashes from your seat at your desk.

“You.”

“Well,” you begin, standing up out of your chair to stretch. “Lucky for you I just declined the amazing offer to go out, all so I could spend tonight with you.”

“Mhmm.. Lucky me,” Spencer replies lowly and looks you up and down, drinking you in. Absorbing your beauty. Somehow after two long days of working in the field, you managed to be drop dead gorgeous. Absolute perfection in his eyes.

“Your place or my place?” you ask, maneuvering from behind your desk to in front of it.

Spencer looks at his watch. “It’s only.. Ten thirty. I’d say we have time for both.”

“My house it is,” you chuckle and turn around, earning a firm slap on the ass from Spencer. A shockwave of pleasure runs straight to your center, and you gasp. Closing up your currently case file, you turn back around and your eyes lock with Spencer, who’s smiling back at you innocently.

You throw on your jacket and toss your go-bag over your shoulder. Spencer laces his fingers with yours as you walk out of the building and to your cars. You feel the excitement swell inside your belly. Racing back to your house to let none other than your colleague ravage you like a wild animal. Desire and lust driven, taking your clothes off followed by his; hands grazing up and down your sides, raising chill bumps in their wake. You can feel it now. His touch. The wetness pooling beneath you, soaking your underwear through. The arousal bumps already beginning to slowly creep down your arms and up over your chest. There was no way in hell you could get home fast enough.

You finally arrive at the parking garage that accompanies your apartment building; Reid quick in tow, parking right beside you. He clambers out of his car before you get the chance, and he comes to meet you at your car door. The two of you race up tp your apartment, eager to rip each other’s clothes off.

The door shuts, and it's game over. Spencer's hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it up over your head and tossing it on the floor. Your back meets the cool surface of the door, goosebumps rippling down your back. Reid's lips attach to yours as his fingertips dance around the bumpy terrain of your back. Your hands travel up and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly making him groan. He fights for dominance over the kiss and you allow him in. As his tongue dances with yours, savoring your taste, his hands soon find solace at the waistband of your pants as he unbuttons them and drops them to the floor with a light thud; exposing your already-soaked panties.

Spencer's lips roam from their start of your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You catch your breath as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders and down your arms; dipping his supple lips further into the valley of your breasts.

A shaky breath escapes your plump lips as he draws your lips nipple into his mouth; excitement flowing to the now erect bud as he switches to the other one, doing the same. He releases your right nipple and comes back up to meet your eyes. His lust and hunger filled expression softens to one of passion. You move your trembling fingers to the too button on his lavender button-up as his lips meet yours once again.

Soon, all his clothes accompany yours in disarray over the floor, and the two of you are waltzing over to the bed; you landing on it softly with a light thud.

"Look at you," he says slowly from his position at the foot of the bed; standing, glistening in his pre-sex glory before you. "All laid out on display for me." You subconsciously pull your thighs closer together, trying to conceal your wetness. Slowly, he begins his crawl onto the bed, hovering over you and lowering his lips to your ear. "Don't hide from me."

Retracting his face, your reach up and gently trail your fingertips over his cheek, drinking all his features of perfection."Spencer." The delicate sound passed through your soft lips as Spencer swiftly moves to encompass them with his. Gnawing on your bottom lip gently with his skillful teeth before pulling away and whispering, "It's Dr. Reid."

He begins his travels back down to your area, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he pushes your thighs apart; a string of your arousal stretching between the two. Collecting it his forefinger, then lifting it to his mouth, he wraps his lips around the digit relishing in the taste of you before delving into your core.

You buck your hips, aching for more contact; more friction. Spencer's hands wrap up and around your thighs, holding you to the point where you can't move.

"Doctor Reid.. please." The sound tumbles quickly from your mouth before you even know what you're asking for. Your head falls to the pillow and your mouth gaped in ecstasy. Your hands fly from their positions at their sides and tangle in Reid's hair, desperately trying to pull him just a little closer to your center.

Reid groans as you pull at his roots, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the depths of you. So close to the edge already, just from Spencer using his tongue. Almost falling over the edge…

But then he pulls away.

"Mnnguh, Spencer," you draw out, the pout apparent in your voice.

"No touching, princess." His face glistens with your slick, and you quiver at the sight momentarily before he collects all your juices onto the back of his hand, making eye contact the entire time.he licks it off; savoring every last drop of your sweetness.

He clambers out of the bed leaving you frustrated and aching for that release that you so close to seconds ago. You watch as he stands facing away from you - his delicious back on display - as he scans the room. After a moment of deep contemplation, he goes over to your bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope.

You didn't appreciate how he knew where your stuff was. However, you couldn't blame him. You were profilers after all, and he probably knew more things about you than you knew yourself.

Spencer smirks at you on his way back over to the bed. You follow him with your eyes as he takes each of your wrists and ties them together and to the headboard. "What's your word?"

"M-my word?" you stumble over the question as your met face to face with Dr. Reid once again.

"Your uh safeword. Whenever anything's too much, just say it, and I'll stop."

Knowing what Spencer was capable of, you weren't sure you'd ever want him to stop. Nonetheless, you pick a word. "Purple." More specifically, the lavender purple button up that Spencer wears. The color that - no matter where you see it - you associate with him.

"Purple it is," reid replies cheekily, once more descending to your dripping core.

You writhe beneath him in pleasure and his skillful tongue and fingers bring you to your second orgasm. "D-doctor Reid, ple-please."

"Please what? Use your words, y/n."

"God- fuck! Reid, fuck me please. I n-need you-"

"Look at you," he says as his eyes drink in the sight before him: his co-worker, needy and begging beneath him. "Such a pretty slut. Begging to be fucked by her co-worker. Do you really want me to fuck you y/n? You want my cock deep inside your pretty pussy?"

You feverishly nod your head, but the answer isn't enough for Spencer. "Say it," he seethes by your ear through gritted teeth with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, slowing your breath intake.

"I.. want your cock.. insi..de me, D-doctor R-reid," you struggle to form the plea.

His hand still around your neck; fingers lightly pressing onto your airways, but now at arms length as he uses his other to trace your folds with the tip of his member. He slips into you easily, and you involuntarily close your eyes; the pleasure consuming you from the inside out. His thrusts agonizingly slow as he relishes in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him.

"Spencer-"

"What's my name?"

"Dr. Reid, please go.. faster. God please- fuck!"

"Gah, such a needy whore, hm. Taking my cock so well. I bet this is what you were thinking about all day. Isn't it?" He speeds up his pace tenfold, rendering you speechless; reaching the deepest parts of you, almost tossing you over the edge once more. "Mmh, gonna cum for me? Don't hold back, baby. Let go for me."

And on cue, you release around him, your juices seeping down your thighs and dampening the bedsheets beneath the two of you.

His pace never slowing down, and his grip on your throat doesn't ease up any either. Your air supply is running low, but you don't care. The sight before you is enough to send you barreling into the abyss of euphoric pleasure. Spencer above you, his sweat-coated torso as arms length and his features contorted in pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you.

You admire the god holding himself armslength away from you. The sweat glazing over his torso and dripping fro his forehead. His eyes squinted and mouth agape in pleasure. You clench around him once.more as your fourth orgasm threatens to erupt.

"God fuck." His disgruntled voice coming in as music to your ears. "So fucking tight. You- you gonna cum again, huh? Dirty slut. Cum for me, baby."

Your forth orgasm rushes over you like a tsunami. Strangled obscenities, moans and groans escape your mouth. You can't take any more. His grip on your throat has barely let up any since he started. And your orgasm count was insane. No one had ever gotten you over four times. The pleasure was more than intense, and you weren't sure how much longer you could last.

"...purple…" you whisper as your vision goes spotty.

A look of worry replaces Spencer's previous pleasure-apparent expression. He quickly removes his hand from your throat and pulls out of you.

"Shit.. shit. Shitshitshit! A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck. I'm so sorry. Really, I never meant to-" Spencer nervously rambles on as you take a much needed deep, refreshing breath.

"I know. Spencer, shut up. It's okay. Just please keep going."

"Y-you sure?"

You nod feverishly urging him to continue. He re-enters you slowly, filling you all the way up. You arch into him, meeting his agonizingly slow thrusts. "Mmh.. faster, Doctor Reid, please!"

His pace returns to as it was before. The squelching sound and skin slapping against skin echos through the room once more. One hand white-knuckles the sheets while the other one reaches for Spencer's hand at your side. Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back up to your throat, wanting so desperately for him to choke you again. He makes eye contact with you - as if asking permission - as you place his lanky fingers around your neck. Swallowing hard, he applies pressure and your mouth falls open in a lazy smile.

Your fifth orgasm creeps up on you quickly, but so is Spencer's. "I'm.. so fu- so fucking close," you let out raspily.

"Me too," he replies, dropping his head. His free hand maneuvers down to run quick circles on your clit, throwing you into convulsions as your fifth orgasm hits you like a truck.

A few more pumps, and Spencer pulls out of you, cumming on your stomach, moaning your name and mixed profanities. He finally brings his head back up to look at you and undoes your restraints, freeing your wrists. A weary smile accompanies his fucked-out expression. He searches around in the floor, finding something to clean you off with before climbing back into the bed and pulling you up snug with him.

"That's what I was afraid of you know," he says barely above a whisper. "Hurting you."

"You didn't hurt me, Spence. I just needed to breathe," you reply with a slight laugh, then placing a kiss to his hand that's draped over.you.

"You staying?" You ask after a bit of silence.

"You're a fool if you think I'm going anywhere." He pulls the blankets up over the two of you and pulls you in even tighter; drifting to sleep in no time.

#cm #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #x reader #self insert #fanfiction #smut #mgg #matther gray gubler #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jj jareau #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #derek morgan

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heyitsani · 4 years ago

Text

Loving You is a Losing Game Chapter 1

@jaydick-week Day 2 fic: Fairytale AU

Word Count: 3,543

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Monsters and Magic

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Summary: When Batman goes missing, Nightwing is called in to try and track the man down. What he finds at the spot Batman was last seen is something he's not sure he's equipped to deal with. But that doesn't stop him from doing what he has to in order to get Batman out. Even if it means becoming the poisoner of a strange shadow man in a Gothic castle hidden behind a wall of magic on the edge of Gotham.

Notes: This is my Beauty and the Beast AU set in the comics (sort of...I’ve changed some details and you’ll understand once it’s all done). I’m not sure how many chapters this one will have but here is the first. I just wanted to be able to post at least part of the stories I prepared for the week since I wasn’t able to finish any of them.

You can also read it on AO3 here

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

He felt the person before he heard them, and the presence alone was enough for Dick to tense up in ways he’d rather not admit happened. This was not a confrontation he was in the mood for at the moment, but apparently he was going to have to have it none the less.

“Deathstroke,” he said flatly, turning to look at the other man standing a few feet away in his familiar orange and black gear.

The white-haired man gave a smirk that boiled Dick’s blood, but he refused to react. “Nightwing, how lovely to see you tonight.” Dick never understood why Slade kept up the pretense of these meetings being unplanned. They weren’t. He might be oblivious to many things, but when a predator is stalking him has never been one of them. He was well aware of what Slade was doing when he appeared out of nowhere.

“Is there something I can do for you tonight? Or are you just here to get in my way.”

“Just curious how my favorite Little Bird was doing,” the man said as he leaned against the brick wall that held the door to head down into the building he had made his perch for the night. “I’ve heard some interesting rumors over the past couple of months and I wanted to see if they were true.”

This was a dangerous game, Dick knew that. He should just ignore Slade and head to a different spot in hopes the man would leave him alone, but his curiosity was also burning. What kind of rumor could Slade have possibly heard involving him.

Sighing, Dick turned to face the man. “And what rumors are those?” He took the bait. He frowned when Slade’s smirk turned predatory and made Dick want to take a few steps back to get more space between them. Despite there being about ten feet already.

“Nightwing hasn’t been seen in Gotham for almost half a year. And the hero community is wondering why the Titans have lost their leader suddenly.” Rolling his eyes behind his mask, Dick crossed his arms over his chest. “Now…you fighting with Daddy Bats isn’t all that strange, but six months? When there’s still the little Robin running around not fully trained?”

Dick didn’t point out that Damian was Batman’s own son and had been trained by the League of Assassins. He was more trained than any of them had ever been. And he made sure to point it out frequently to Tim.

“And that you have left behind your precious Titans? Now that’s surprising.” But Dick knew he no one other than the team knew why he had separated himself from them and they all accepted it. He hadn’t been ousted or banned. He had left because he had needed to. “Are you isolating yourself, Little Bird?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Slade shrugged and pushed away from the wall, taking a few long strides to close some of the distance between them. “Seems to me that you are pushing away everyone in your life, Kid. Perhaps you’re ready for your true destiny?” Dick frowned. “Join me. You know it’s inevitable.”

Dick laughed. Actually laughed at the words and shook his head.

“Dream on, Slade. I say it every time you bring it up,” Dick reminded him, uncrossing his arms. “Until the world has burned, I will never join you.”

“Don’t tempt me, Kid.”

Instead of responding, Dick just rolled his eyes and took a step back off the edge of the roof, free falling for a moment before shooting off his grapple in the direction of where he had parked his motorcycle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Agent A,” Dick said into his comm when he heard Alfred’s voice bleeding through. He was surprised to be hearing from the older man, but welcomed it none the less. Even if it was coming in the middle of a fight.

Landing a punch across the jaw of one of the goons and vaulting himself over the falling body to swiftly knock the other down with a firm kick to his chest, he breathed heavily. “Nightwing, I require your assistance in Gotham.” Frowning, Dick knelt down and zip-tied the hands of the goons together before sending off the signal and coordinates to BPD.

“You require it? Or Batman does?” He questioned as he shot his grapple up to get off the street and out of the area before the cops arrived. While the cops of BPD had gotten better over time, they still had an arrest order for all vigilantes. So it was always best that he just left before they arrived. “What’s going on?”

“Batman has not been seen for about 48 hours now. Robin and Red Robin are off world with the Titans at the moment and I know Batman would rather keep the search in the family before involving the League.” Which made sense in Bruce’s mind, but considering their hero friends had been vanishing left and right over the last two years, Dick thought it was somewhat foolish. “Might you make your way to the Cave?”

Figuring out where he was in relation to his motorcycle, Dick took off in the direction of where he had stashed it. “I’m on my way now. Tell me what he was doing the night he went missing.” He listened to Alfred relay the major points of the missing hero case that the entire community was working on while holding down their various cities. He listened as Alfred talked about Bruce starting the suspect something was happening in an abandon warehouse on the outskirts of town, not far from Crime Alley.

Dick confirmed that Bruce had mentioned that to him about a year ago and Dick had told Bruce that there was no activity in the area after running the scans. But apparently that didn’t mean Bruce had dropped it. It just meant he didn’t immediately deal with whatever it was that was happening there.

“Master Bruce linked these three heroes and their disappearances with that warehouse,” Alfred said as he pulled open three filed. Dick frowned when the faces of Roy Harper, Koriand’r, and Wally West appeared on the screen. Three of his closest friends whose absences he had felt deeply. If Donna’s face had come up alongside them then he would have left immediately. “All three had come to town for various reasons and all vanished when leaving in that direction.”

“And Bruce thinks they vanished in the warehouse so he what? He went there to try and figure out what was happening?”

Alfred nodded and pulled up a video, which Dick easily figured out was the cowl recording from the night he went missing. Dick watched from Bruce’s eyes as the batmobile came to a stop on the outskirts of the three-building area. His mentor took a moment to scan the area and look for any signs of life, but when the readings seemed to glitch he still decided to go in. An action Dick had specifically been told not to do if he had experienced the same thing.

“Magic,” Bruce had said when Dick had reported his findings.

But Bruce exited the car and headed toward the first of three buildings. And just as Dick leaned forward, pressing his hands on the desk to watch closely, the screen glitched again and then static. Scanning the screen for the readings of the video, he frowned. “What the hell was that?”

“My thoughts? It is the same magic you encountered when you had gone to scout the area at Master Bruce’s request.”

Dick straightened and frowned. That was heavy magic if it was able to cut everything off from Bruce. And it made Dick wonder if Bruce had somehow managed to get stuck behind the wall. “Is Zatanna one of the missing?” There had been so many that he couldn’t remember all of them. Alfred’s nod filled him with dread. “I have to go check it out.”

“Could I advise you to go to the Watchtower before you do?”

“There’s no time. He’s been missing for two days and some change. I need to head in there.” Dick frowned, grabbing his mask from where he had set it down when he had arrived. “But you should contact Clark immediately. I’m not sure if they’ll be able to spare any of the other magic users, but let them know what Bruce had suspected.” He turned to head back to his motorcycle but paused when Alfred’s hand landed on his upper arm. “I have to go, Alf. I can’t just leave him there.”

“I understand my boy, just be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Dick gave a nod before continuing to his motorcycle. “I will contact the League and try to get the Robins to return to Earth.”

“Thanks Alf. I’ll keep you updated for as long as I can.”

He gave the older man one last smile before he gunned the engine and sped out of the Cave toward the warehouse where he would face too many unknown variables.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulling up to the same place where Bruce had parked the batmobile, Dick frowned when he noticed the car was no longer there. They were far enough away from the majority of the city that thieves wouldn’t have gotten to it, but that didn’t account for whatever magic that had been used to protect this area. So he carefully set his motorcycle into stealth mode and left it tucked between two smaller buildings in the area. If he was lucky, it would be there to get him and Bruce back to the cave once he found the other man.

“I’m approaching now, Agent A,” he reported to Alfred through the comms, sticking to the shadows as he approached. He kept one eye on the grounds and the other on any possible movement around him. “I didn’t notice it last time, but you can actually see the current.” He moved to stand about a foot away from the now just slightly visible wall of magic. He looked up, trying to see how far it went, but after about ten feet, the angle didn’t provide a good look.

It almost reminded him of heat waves that came off the pavement during the worst of Gotham’s summers.

Reaching out a hand, Dick carefully touched the wall and jerked a hand back when it felt like he had been zapped by one of his escrimas. “It feels like electricity,” he said into the comm but the reply he got back was crackled and broken. And that meant he was probably on his own. “I’m not sure if you can hear me anymore, but I’m going in. Call for the League and the Robins. Find a magic user and get them here if you can. I’ll bring him back, Alf.” And with a deep breath, he stepped forward and into the wall of magic.

And when he came out on the other side, he bent forward with his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. “That is not a good time,” he groaned to himself as he tried to pull himself together. With a few more deep breaths, Dick straightened and gasped in surprise at the sight of what was on the other side of the wall.

The image projected on the city side of the wall was what he remembered the area to look like. Three large, abandoned warehouses and their various grounds surrounding them. Gray and boring, weathered from the lack of upkeep and use. But what was before him seemed almost gothic in comparison. In fact, it looked like some of the older buildings of the city. Gargoyles and all. The plain concrete walls had been replaced with stone, vines that had not been there two years ago had begun to creep up them giving them an even more aged look.

The grounds themselves were green and reminded him far more of the Manor than what he would have expected a warehouse to look like. They also looked immaculately kept. It was almost as if whoever had done the spell had taken a gothic castle and placed it on the edge of Gotham while making every one in the city believe the warehouses remained.

It made Dick feel like he had a rock in his stomach. This was a very powerful spell.

Scouting the area as best he could, Dick carefully made his way forward with his escrimas in hand and ready for a fight. He didn’t know what he was bound to encounter, but he wasn’t going to chance not being prepared. Not when it might be Bruce’s life on the line.

When the grounds revealed little information, Dick snuck his way inside through one of the windows in the front and quietly made his way through the main foyer. The more he saw of the building, the heavier the pit in his stomach got.

The sound of fierce whispering hit his senses as he came to the base of a set of stairs.

Nightwing, it is Nightwing.

He frowned, looking around to try and find the source.

Nightwing can do it.

He wanted to ask what exactly the whisperers thought he could do, but instead he remained silent and looked up the stairs. There was a faint light further up and like a moth, Dick made his way toward it. The whispers got quieter and quieter the further up he went. Until they had vanished all together and he was standing at the top of the stairs, looking at something that he was struggling to understand. It looked like cells but it wasn’t making sense in his head.

Of course, if this really was some sort of medieval structure, it would make sense for there to be a tower with cells for keeping prisoners. But what that even what this was.

The sound of movement from one of the ones on the right caught his attention and with barely a thought, he rushed forward to peer inside. “Batman!” He cried, latching his escrimas on his back before gripping the bars of the cell door. “Are you okay?!” He questioned as he looked the older man over.

“Nightwing,” the name came out as a groan and Dick frowned. Bruce looked roughed up, but he didn’t look like he was in that bad of condition. “You have to leave. Get out of here now. Before it takes you like it took them all.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to just leave you here,” he shook his head before searching his utility belt for his lock pick so he could get the cell open and get Bruce out of there. He had just about gotten the lock open when a loud crash sounded behind him and he was flying toward the cells on the other side of the small hallway.

“What are you doing here?!” The question was practically growled, and Dick tried to focus on the source but all he could see was a shadow and a pair of glowing green eyes. “You don’t belong here. Leave!”

Shaking his head, Dick looked over at Bruce before looking back to the shadow. “I’m not leaving without Batman.”

“Yes, you are,” the shadow growled. “He’s my prisoner. He’s cursed to remain.”

Dick carefully stood to his feet and grabbed his escrimas, moving into a fighting stance. “I’m not leaving without him. So either you give him to me or I take him.”

“Nightwing, no!”

But Dick ignored Bruce’s call and carefully moved so he was standing in front of his mentor’s cell. He didn’t know who or what it was he was facing, but he had fought enough in his years to be adaptable. “Dick, please just go. Get out while you can.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“One of you is leaving before I really lose my temper.”

That gave Dick pause. “One of us?” The shadow seemed to tilt it’s head and Dick considered the idea building in his mind. He could get Bruce out of there. He could get Bruce home to Alfred. And Bruce would figure out a way to get him out of there. He could do that. Dick would never be able to figure out how to combat magic like this. He wasn’t sure even their magic users in the League would be able to. But Batman always found a way. “Take me instead.”

“What?”

“No!”

“You heard me. Take me instead. Release Batman and I’ll take his place.”

“You…” the shadow paused, sounding almost awed. “You would do that for him?”

“Yes.”

“Dick don’t do this, please.”

Turning his head just slightly to lock eyes with Bruce, Dick pursed his lips. “I have to. You’ll figure it out. You’re already there. I trust you.” The man frowned but understanding filled his eyes and he gave Dick a firm nod. Turning back to the shadow, Dick latched his escrimas again and raised his chin. “I’ll stay as long as I have to if you promise to let him go safely on the other side of the magical wall.”

There was silence before the shadow moved like liquid, shoving Dick out of the way and getting Bruce out of the cell. In a blink of an eye, the pair were gone and Dick was left alone wondering what he was supposed to do now. He just risked his life on Bruce being able to figure this out. He had given up everything because he trusted the man enough to get to the bottom of whatever was happening here. Dick trusted Bruce and Nightwing trusted Batman, but jumping in front of a bullet was different than trapping himself inside a magical dome with no connection to the outside world.

With a deep breath, Dick pulled the mask off his eyes and looked around the room he supposed he would be staying in. The cells were stereotypical for a medieval castle and under any other circumstance, he would probably laugh at that. But now this was his...home?

“Come,” a voice came out of nowhere, causing him to jump and quickly turn toward the staircase he had come up.

The shadow was back.

More magic, he mused to himself. “What?” He questioned the command, wary of what the game might be here.

The shadow shifted and moved forward, stepping into the light to reveal a man. Not a shadow at all. Blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and green eyes. He was tall but not as tall as the shadow had made him appear to be. And not as bulky, but still solid in muscle mass and strength. “Do you want to stay up here?” The man growled, his green eyes taking on an almost glowing look to them. It made Dick take a step back in self-preservation.

“No, but I thought…” This was where Bruce had been kept after all. Why was he not to assume that it would be the same for him?

“You thought wrong.” The man turned and headed down the stairs and after a short hesitation, Dick hurried to follow. He kept quiet as he followed the man down the stairs he had come up in the beginning and then down the halls toward a different wing of the castle. “This is your home now. You can go anywhere you like but the West Wing.”

Dick glanced behind him, remembering the staircase they had passed that would have been in the westward direction. “What’s in the West Wing?” He asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He blamed Bruce and his need to raise detectives.

“Nothing of your concern!” The man ground out, turning to glare at Dick with his glowing green eyes. And though he wanted to take a step back, he resisted the urge. He did, however, give a slight nod of understanding to pacify the man instead. There was a moment of pause before he seemed pacified and they continued on the path. “You will stay here,” the man said when they reached an elaborately carved, pair of double doors. Dick looked up at them before stepping forward and inside the room after he pushed the doors open.

The room itself looked as though it had come right out of a movie. Four post bed, gleaming silvers and blues all over. The bed looked plush and the furniture was likely hand carved. Everything was polished and smooth, gleaming under the lighting. It was ornate and fancy and Dick hated it. But that might have had more to do with it being his prison than it being overly done.

He heard the man clear his throat and Dick turned to find he remained in the doorway of the room, looking hesitate to enter. But that was something Dick had no desire to unpack that right then. Not when he was still technically a prisoner.

“If you need anything, the others are always lingering.” The man glanced around the room before straightening his spine. “I expect you to join me for dinner.” Dick frowned when the man turned away and slammed the door behind him. Sighing, Dick turned in a small circle before dropping down onto the edge of the bed.

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #slade wilson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #beauty and the beast au #jaydickweek2021 #anikah writes

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fairfaxleasee · 4 years ago

Note

[Slow] dancing + Fenris/Cass? someone needs to take this boy out on the town!!

For @dadrunkwriting (Thanks to @xqueen0fhellx for letting me use her Damien Amell in this and my AU!)

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, autism spectrum, Modern (University) AU

Cassia Hawke couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing in her hallway. Not only did she have no idea how her cousin Damien had found her apartment (although her younger sister Bethany was at the top of the suspect list), but she had even less of an idea what he was doing with his arms full of stained papers and a single sneaker.

“Cousin Cass! I did what you asked me!” Damien didn’t wait to be invited and strode into her apartment.

“Uhhhh... no you didn’t.” Cass was positive she hadn’t told her cousin to do anything, let alone something that would involve him showing up at her apartment with... whatever it was he was holding.

“I did though! Don’t you remember? At the Dumar’s party last month you said we were going to spy on Danarius.”

“Uh, no, at the Dumar’s party I said I was going to look into Danarius’ business dealings.”

“Well... yeah, and while you did that, I did this!” he lifted his arms slightly to offer her whatever it was he was holding.

“Damien, I have no idea what that is.”

“I went through his trash! And it was annoying because I had to climb over this really high fence to do it.”

Cass pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on her forehead. “Okay, well we’re going to just pretend you didn’t confess to trespassing and theft...”

“See, these are a bunch of receipts for... well, I don’t know what they’re all for. Oh, wait, and this looks like a coffee filter. But I think the rest of these are receipts-”

“Damien...”

“I know he’s getting extra income from somewhere-”

“Damien!”

“So I brought them here because you’re good at all this thinking stuff!”

“DAMIEN! When I said I was going to look into him I meant I was going to search through public records for his corporate filings and do a bit of catfishing. The corporate stuff is public information and the catfishing is things he’s willingly telling me. Or, well, willingly telling Cecelia. But still.”

“Ohhh...” Damien sounded like he was finally listening to what Cass was actually telling him instead of the voice-over in his personal action movie. “That sounds like a better plan now that you say it.”

“Yes. And it’s also doesn’t involve trespassing or petty larceny.”

“Can I help with that?”

“No!”

“Do you need me to hack into anything?”

“NO! That’s still illegal, Damien! And I need whatever I’m going to use to be clean.”

“Well, what about catfishing? Can I do that?”

Cass barely resisted the urge to throttle her overly-enthusiastic cousin, “I- yes, fine if that will get you out of here. But no hacking!”

“So, what kind of profile do you think I should make up? Can I see the one you’re using? Can we hang out while I make it?”

“Damien, I am going to give you three seconds to get out the door before I push you out a window! Fenris is coming over-”

“Can I meet him this time?”

“NO!” if Cass had her way about things Fenris would never be subjected to any of her relatives. It was bad enough he’d already met Carver and Bethany (albeit briefly), Cass wasn’t about to impose another Amell on him. She started shooing her cousin towards the door.

“Well, I guess I should leave to let you get ready. You probably want to put something nice on. Where are you going with him? You should take him dancing! Ooh! Have you ever heard of the Hanged Man? It’s this club-”

“Damien, just go back to your house and throw all that stuff out somewhere. And don’t do anything else illegal!”

“Bye, Cousin Cass! Let me know how your date goes! I’ll call you when I have something-”

Cass gave her cousin one last shove and closed the door behind him. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing and frowned. They were clean, but that was all that could be said about them. They were her usual combination of a tunic and leggings, and she liked them and was comfortable in them, they were far from nice. Or pretty. She’d never worn anything nice or pretty on any of their dates.

Although maybe it was unfair of her to consider what they did together ‘dating.’ He just came over to her apartment and they’d order carry out and watch movies. She liked watching movies and eating carry out in her apartment, and she loved doing it with Fenris, but... She was probably boring him. He’d been in a band; they’d met in the Hanged Man (even if Cass hadn’t wanted to go to the fucking club in the first place).

She bit her lower lip and tried to force herself not to cry. She hadn’t managed to fuck anything up yet. Maybe she had time. She opened her phone and called Fenris.

“Cass?”

“Mm-hum.” Great, of all the times for her throat to decide not to work.

“Cass, is everything alright?”

“Mm-hum.” She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to force herself to talk. “I... um... I’ve got to do this quick thing. I... I should be done before you get here, but I’m going to leave the door unlocked just in case. So you can come in. And I’ll have Dante and Squall with me so you don’t need to worry about that. But it’s fine, okay? I- I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Cass...”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

She was slightly afraid he would try to call her again once she hung up, but didn’t have time to be relived he hadn’t as she tore to her bedroom in search of something that wouldn’t make her look like, in the endearing words of her brother, a ‘crazy bag-lady.’

It took a while to find. Most of her regular clothes were similar to what she was wearing already and she had a few suits for competitions that she wore. She’d tried on one of the dresses her mother had bought for her to wear to the parties she was supposed to go to, but it made her skin burn and crawl so she’d yanked it off before she’d even zipped it up. She eventually found a knee-length black skirt (she had a fleeting thought that it might have been from her high school uniform, but as long as it didn’t look like it was from a high school uniform she wasn’t going to be picky) and a scoop-neck split sleeve blouse. She glanced at her phone and cursed that it had taken her all but five minutes of the time she’d had between her cousin running his mouth (he obviously hadn’t meant anything by it, and while she wasn’t mad at him for causing it she was still furious it had happened) and Fenris’ arrival. She rushed to the bathroom in a desperate search for make up. She owned some basic stuff for her competitions, but it was to make her look professional. She flung open cabinets and drawers in search of something as she tried not to focus on the sting of shame at what was in her medicine cabinet.

She heard the door to her apartment open and shook her head as she tried to apply what she’d found in a way that wouldn’t end up with her looking like a toddler who’d gotten into its mother’s purse. She couldn’t enjoy the fact that she’d managed it because when she looked at the reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Actually, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly who was staring back at her. ‘Cassia Amell Hawke’ was staring back at her. The daughter her parents wanted was staring back at her. Someone normal was staring back at her. Someone Fenris deserved was staring back at her. The woman she could never be was staring back at her. She felt tears begin to prick the edges of her eyes before a voice from the living room distracted her.

“Cass?”

She wiped her eyes quickly as she answered, “Yes! Sorry, Fenris, I’ll be right out!” She grabbed the only pair of heels she owned as she tore from the bedroom.

“Cass!” She watched Fenris’ expression change as he took in her appearance. She bit her lip as she admonished herself silently for not being able to understand what any of it meant. “Cass, why are you wearing that?”

“I... um... do you not like it?” She hadn’t even considered Fenris may not like what she was wearing.

“I - no! You look... stunning but, it’s not what you usually wear.”

“I... well... I thought... I thought maybe we could do something different tonight.”

“Like what, Cass?”

“I... like we could go... out to dinner?”

“Hmmm... we could do that.” He was smiling. She didn’t think anything was off about the smile so she smiled back.

“And then we could go somewhere nice after? Like a club or a bar or something?”

Something was wrong with his smile as she finished. “Are you sure, Cass?”

“Mm-hum.” She nodded. She was sure, she just couldn’t bring herself to actually claim she was sure.

“Let’s see how you feel after dinner.”

“I... okay.” She hung her head as she tried to keep smiling. She’d obviously done something wrong. Maybe if she could figure out what it was she’d be able to fix it.

They had a fairly nice time at dinner. Fenris mentioned he knew a Seheron restaurant he liked that didn’t do carry-out so they went there. It was definitely noisier than Cass’ apartment, but it wasn’t overwhelming. As they left, Fenris reached a hand around her waist to press her gently to him and whisper, “Should we head back, Cass?”

She turned to him, “I - No! I said we could go dancing. So let’s go to a club.”

“Cass...”

“Do you not want to?”

“Do you want to?”

“Mm-hum.” She wanted to want to. That was close enough. He turned away. She reached out and grabbed his collar as she felt her breathing get heavier. She pulled him towards her as her eyes drifted away.

“Cass...” she felt him sigh above her. “If you’re sure, Cass.”

She nodded and pulled him closer.

“Alright, I know a place that’s not far.”

Cass had no idea what club Fenris had taken her to, but she knew she hated it. It was just as bad as the Hanged Man (although for all she knew, it was the Hanged Man again, she’d blocked most of the specifics of the place out): flashing lights, crowds of people, loud music, somehow louder voices, the stench of cigarettes, alcohol, and cologne. It was as though the entire place were determined to make her as miserable as possible as quickly as possible. She thought Fenris was trying to talk to her. She couldn’t hear him. She tried to focus on looking happy; pretending to belong. Keeping up her desperate façade of normalcy for as long as possible as the fire the overstimulation set off in every nerve in her body overwhelmed and consumed her.

The next thing she was fully aware of she was outside with her head pressed against a concrete wall as she gulped lungfuls of cold night air.

“Feeling better, Cass?”

She turned her head slightly to look at Fenris. His whole expression was funny - he wasn’t trying to smile, and he didn’t look angry, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand his slightly furrowed eyebrows. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want to make him wait any longer so she bit her tongue to try to force it to start working. “Yeah... um, just give me a second and we can go back in.”

“We’re not going back in, Cass.”

Her eyes flew open and she turned to Fenris in a panic, “I can do it better, Fenris! Just tell me what I did wrong and I can make it right!”

“Cass, you were miserable in there.”

“I’m sorry! I know I’m not supposed to be. I can- I can get better at pretending it’s fun!”

“Cassia, listen to me,” he reached out and hovered a hand over her cheek. She knew she shouldn’t - she didn’t deserve it - but she leaned into his touch. He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I don’t want you to pretend with me. I want to be with you, not anyone else.”

“I don’t understand, Fenris...”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” She reached up to grab his wrist.

“That’s enough, Cassia.”

“But... but I want to do more, Fenris. You deserve more.”

“Hmm...” he slid his hand off her cheek and around her back to press her to his chest. “Is there anything you think we didn’t get to do tonight?”

“I... we didn’t get to dance. That’s what people go to clubs for, right?”

“We don’t need a club to dance, Cass. Here, give me your phone.”

She slid it out of her pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. She saw his eyes narrow at the screen. “Fenris?”

“It’s nothing, Cass. I’m just going to have to have a long talk with this Cousin Damien of yours at some point.”

“Fenris, nothing good ever comes from talking to my Cousin Damien at any length.”

“Well, I agree with that, but I don’t intend to let him off the hook. But let’s leave that for now.”

Cass watched the light of the screen reflect on Fenris’ face for a few seconds before music began to play. ‘I see trees of green; Red roses too.’ She leaned into him and wound her arms behind his head. He reached down with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone to reach around her waist as they swayed to the music. She wasn’t sure it counted as ‘dancing,’ but she was sure she wasn’t able to do anything more just then. She leaned away from slightly so she could press her forehead to his, “I think this is the first time I’ve liked this song.”

She felt him laugh, “My thoughts exactly, Cassia.”

#da drunk writing circle #fenhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #da2 #dragon age #fenris #that was way longer than i thought it would be

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

SBGS ch 6

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

2:00AM | CoffeeVamp: marinette dupain cheng could step on me and i would thank her

CoffeeVamp: did you all see how bad ass that girl was

CoffeeVamp: she was just like demon spawn is robin? Well fuck you for being in paris

CoffeeVamp: and her file oml this girl does so much for paris and he classmates treat her like CRAP

Daddy: How do you know her Damian? Clearly you guys have met before. Can you really trust her with your identity?

Jesus: this girl has been keeping her own secret identitieS under wraps for years I doubt she’ll rat

CoffeeVamp: DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON MDC

CoffeeVamp: all i ever wanted was for MDC to design smth for me but u ruined ALL my chances demon spawn !!!!

2:15 AM | TheOG: I think we can trust her

TheOG: Don’t think she trusts us tho

CoffeeVamp: yea what was with the zip ties

CoffeeVamp: do you have smth to tell us ;)))

CoffeeVamp: have u been getting spicy in paris ;)))

CoffeeVamp: remember to use protection we don’t need any mini yous around

LadyLady: she’s good. I can see why Ladybug trusts her

DemonSpawn: She’s a friend I met in Paris. She can keep a secret.

2:20 AM | DemonSpawn: I regret not trusting her.

CoffeeVamp: i cant believe that u thought someone who was nice enough to spend time wu willingly could be a supervillain

Jesus: that’s pretty fucked up man

Jesus: Surprised she didn’t rail on you more for that. I would’ve given you a beat down

LadyLady: u need a game plan to get her on your side. She doesn’t have a good reason to trust u anymore and id like it if we were on good terms with the one person that can contact lb

The OG: ^^ babs is always right

TheOG: you only have two weeks

DemonSpawn: How do I get on her good side?

Jesus: you better hope and pray because girls like that do not forgive easy

TheOG: try being her friend again

Jesus: like she wants to be his friend anymore

LadyLady: Apologize to her.

Jason is right.

It’s clear that Marinette does not want to be involved with him any longer. Marinette comes in right as the bell rings, then faces firmly ahead and doesn’t spare him a single glance. Notes that he slips to her are ignored. She doesn’t check her phone for his texts except for once, when she texts him: anything related to last night will be discussed out of school.

Instead of going home for lunch, she willingly sits with Lila, just so she can avoid him cornering her in the bakery. Damian watches them from a distance, but he’s close enough to hear most of the conversations. Most of their other classmates are taken in by some video on Alya’s. There’s a quick exclamation from the Ladyblogger, saying something about being able to meet some American celebrity, and she and the rest of the class run off to somewhere else, though not before inviting Lila and Adrien. They’re turned down, and Marinette continues to sit with the two of them.

“We’ve got a photo shoot together later today.” Adrien sounds tired. Like he’s giving up, almost.

“Would you like to come, Marinette?”

Damian can’t make out Marinette’s reply, but she must say yes, because Lila’s calculated facade slips away to reveal shock and interest. Lila entwines her fingers with Adrien’s, an act Adrien clearly isn’t expecting, as he flinches.

Marinette levels a glance at Lila, who looks surprised at Adrien’s reaction, not that Damian can blame her; she practically hangs off Adrien every day, playing up their couple relationship for the media, and Adrien never reacts like this. He inches closer. Lila reaches out to touch Adrien on the shoulder, in a gesture of soothing, but Adrien flinches again, this time gaining a distant look in his eyes and starting to breath hard. Lila goes to kneel--it’s clear that Adrien is on the verge of a full blown panic attack-- but Marinette holds Lila by her arm and shakes her head, gesturing for her to wait off to the side.

Adrien’s reactions are trademarks of an abuse victim. His reactions are rather dramatic in comparison to the clenched jaw and distant eyes that he normally sees in kids in Gotham, which leads Damian to the conclusion that this is either a more recent thing, or when he is abused, he emphasizes his weakness in attempt to get the attacker to stop. The question of who seems rather redundant; everyone knows that Adrien Agreste is the sheltered, sunshine boy who never stepped a foot out of his mansion before turning twelve. Though he models, his actions are still highly restricted. There’s not really much of a chance for Adrien’s abuser to be anyone other than the people within his immediate vicinity, so the suspects were his father, the personal assistant, his drive, or someone he works with.

He’ll have to keep this information in mind moving forward. Though Damian ordered extensive background checks on each and every student at Francois Dupont, he only read the profiles of the people in his class, and only keeps tabs on the people that are of interest.nIn Mlle. Bustier’s class, the only people who Damian is interested in are Marinette, for obvious reasons, Lila Rossi, for the sheer number of times she was akumatized during year two of Hawkmoth’s presence, Chloe Bourgeois, who may not be Francois Dupont student, let alone in France at the moment, but has a parent who currently sits at the top of his family’s Hawkmoth suspect list and has gotten countless people akumatized, and Adrien Agreste, the only person other than Marinette who hasn’t been akumatized in the akuma class. If Adrien really is being abused-- and he doesn’t really see any reason for Adrien to fake the symptoms, given that there’s really nothing for him to gain out of this situation-- that knocks him up a space on the list of Hawkmoth suspects. Victims of abuse, especially in a high profile situation, are often likely to either lash out or coop themselves up. Since he isn’t purposely excluding himself from activities, given that he converses with Marinette, Lila, and two other classmates named Nino and Alya, it’s possible that he has adopted Hawkmoth as an alter ego to pursue revenge.

All this, of course, is mere speculation. Before making any abrupt jumps in his logic, like he did with Marinette-- though he defends himself with the fact that his thoughts on her being Hawkmoth were mere speculation, and that it was merely coincidence or a case of extremely bad luck that Marinette… what, thought he was Hawkmoth as well and then passed the information onto Ladybug? Now that he thinks about it, the whole situation seems ridiculous, and he finds that Ladybug’s lack of tact when coming face to face with her supposed arch-nemesis doesn’t befit a hero of her caliber. She seemed oddly emotional about the whole thing, like his existence as Hawkmoth was a personal betrayal. But Ladybug and Damian never met before that. Why did Ladybug take Marinette’s personal vendetta upon herself? His head hurts.

Damian finds himself walking over to their table, where Marinette is speaking in soothing tones, careful not to touch Adrien at all. He calms down enough to start breathing regularly. Even though his eyes are still watery, he looks up at Marinette with a tentative smile. Marinette looks back at him with such pure, unadulterated love, that Damian blinks slowly to make sure he’s not seeing things. There aren’t many people who show emotions that don’t have some hidden barb underneath, or an undercurrent of a different emotion alongside it.

Then, Marinette sends a calculating look at Damian, and a briefer one at Lila and Adrien.

“Lila, can I talk to you in private for a moment?” Although Marinette’s tone keeps to a pleasant range, Damian finds it rather familiar. Like when Alfred pulls him or one of his brothers to the side to politely tell them what they’re doing wrong and how to remedy it. But there’s a bit of genuine ferocity in Marinette’s tone, and the Italian girl steps back.

“Adrien, I’m going to leave you here with Damian just for a second, okay? I’ll be right back, and if you need me for anything, just call.” She gives Damian a look that says if you hurt this boy, I will end you and heads off with Lila.

“Damian,” Adrien says. He’s trying to come off as calm and cheery. He misses the mark terribly. Somehow, Damian gets the feeling that the boy isn’t very good at bottling up his emotions, odd, considering that he’s grown up partially in the limelight. “I see you’re well acquainted with our everyday Ladybug. She really is amazing.”

There’s a touch of awe, and it makes Damian uncomfortable for no good reason.

He’s not sure how to deal with people who look like they’re about to cry. Damian doesn’t have to deal with that. Dick’s in charge of any emotional clean up that’s necessary in the public; Alfred helps his family manage their emotions in the manor. He decides that going with the flow is the best option in this situation. An everyday Ladybug. What an interesting piece of terminology.

“She is.” Damian admits, “We’re not currently on the best of terms.”

Damian will be surprised if Marinette even manages to civilly work with him for the rest of the week. He wasn’t expecting their subsequent interactions after last night to be the same as they were prior to her finding out that he was Robin and thinking that she was Hawkmoth, but he thought she would just interact coolly with him. Not this silent treatment. She refuses to talk to him and only looks at him with some combination of disdain and ill intent.

He can’t manage to give her the same treatment, both because he is on a mission and because he can’t fault her for thinking that he was Hawkmoth. The situation is really, rather comical, but he spent enough time ruminating on his actions the previous night to pick up on all of the red flags that made her come to that conclusion, and even is she was a hero for a short period of time, he can’t expect someone who is, by and large, a civilian to have the same investigative capabilities his family does. If anything, he is ashamed of himself for jumping to the conclusion that she was Hawkmoth, when instead, it turned out she is working for Ladybug.

However, the Marinette he’s seen so far doesn’t seem the type to hold grudges, especially not when it comes to any pressing issue, and he finds that all of the decisions she makes are heavily logic-based and influenced by Sabine’s values, who is definitely an upright woman if he’s ever seen one. Marinette has too strong of a work ethic to actually ignore Damian when it comes down to it, but he has to wonder why she acted so blatantly hostile to him. Her character combined with her actions just don’t match up, which means there's another reason why she’s acting this way.

While Damian excels at extracting raw data and testimonies from people due to brute force, and is decent enough at getting people to do what he desires, determining the source of a person’s frustration, what drives a person-- he needs more work with that. He’s much better at getting people mad. And Damian doesn’t think he’s seen Marinette mad at anyone except for Celia DeVries. She has nerves made of steel and patience carved from diamond.

“I hope you figure it out.” Adrien says with such sincerity that it’s frightening. He’s surprisingly pure-hearted for a model entrenched in a mega corporation like Gabriel. The entertainment industry, particularly the fashion side of business, is a very cut throat world. Adrien doesn’t seem like a person who’s been in the public eyes for years. “Please be a better friend to her than I am. I really wanted to do more for her, but my hands are... tied.”

Lila is subdued when she and Marinette return. Her eyes dart to Adrien, and she frowns and bites her bottom lip. Then she looks away and crosses her arms.

“Let’s get back to class. I’m excited to go to the photoshoot after school! I haven’t spent any time with you in so long, Adrien.” Marinette doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. She sounds so genuinely happy, and Damian wonders if he can make her sound like that again. If he ever made her sound like that.

Adrien looks at Marinette, then asks Damian, “Would you like to come too?”

The look that Adrien gives him tells him to say yes, even though he can feel the cold that radiates off Marinette. Damian agrees; it’s time to try Barbara’s suggestion and apologize, and since he doubts that he’ll get a word in edgewise when they’re working together at night, he has to try apologizing sooner.

The rest of the school day slips by in a blur.

Then, the four of them are out on the streets, and Damian finds their combination unnerving, to say the least. He’s still on bad terms with Marinette, and Marinette has never been on the best terms with Lila. She’s going to this shoot solely for the opportunity to be with Adrien, and something about that unsettles Damian. Still, regardless of how Damian feels, the photographer on the set of Adrien and Lila’s shoot loves all four of them.

“Fantastico! Adrien’s friends are rare finds. It’s true about what they say; beautiful people, they associate with beautiful people.” The photographer flits around Damian and Marinette, getting uncomfortably close. Damian shoots him a glare, but the photographer simply takes it in stride.

“Yes, yes, the most beautiful eyes, so passionate. The perfect measurements, too! Lara,” he calls to one of his assistants, “Get them all to makeup. These four are who I’ve been waiting for to fulfil my vision of envy. Gabriel will have to wait on his magazine spread. I’ve been inspired!” The photographer circles the four of them, like a hunter and his prey.

Out of nowhere, the photographer grasps Marinette’s chin, and despite the initial flinch she gives-- he’s not sure whether she was going to kick or punch him, but the sudden spitfire in her eyes said she was going to do something-- she settles into a locked jaw and curled fingers. Damian sees a slight jump from Adrien as well, which seems unusual; on the way over, he talked about how he worked with this photographer before and was very comfortable with him. He regaled them with funny stories of how he tended to reference spaghetti in shoots that were less pleasant to make the models laugh.

“Ah, Adrien, you have truly delivered the favor of Fortuna upon me. I cannot believe I never saw this earlier. You have brought this girl to shoots before, have you not? I never forget a beautiful face, even when I am focused on other things.”

Marinette calmly displaces Vincent’s hand from her face. “Thank you for the kind words, Monsieur, but I think it best that we just watch the originally planned shoot. I am no model and have no interest in being one.”

Vincent gives Marinette a once over, like he’s not used to people disagreeing with whatever vision he has for the day. “From one artist to the next-- this project is important to me. I’ve had the idea for years, but have yet to come across the perfect models to portray it. What will it take to convince you? ”

At this, nearly all the tension that Marinette has coiled up in her shoulders dissipates. Vincent has said the right thing. “I see. Really, Vincent, I think it’s best that you continue with the Gabriel shoot. M. Agreste wouldn’t be happy if he found out that his spread was delayed.”

“But the Muse, Mademoiselle! She runs away so quickly. And the four of you are perfect.” Vincent turns to the other three.

“Surely, you understand. Mlle. Rossi, M. Agreste, you must have felt an urge to do something so strongly that it pulls you in. And you,” he looks more closely at Damian. “You are an artist as well, aren’t you Monsieur? I can tell. It’s in the hands and eyes. Art, she comes, but she is fickle. If I don’t do this now, it will be gone forever. And the pursuit of true art means more than any Gabriel spread.”

Surprisingly, it is Adrien who responds first. “I might not understand art, Vincent, but I know what you’re talking about. The feeling of wanting to do something badly, to set yourself free…”

He twists his ring. Marinette looks at him sadly again, hands twitching like she wants to hold him to provide comfort.

“Besides, I don’t really want to do a Gabriel spread today. I haven’t spent time with friends in a long time, and I don’t think anything could make me happier than doing a photoshoot with you three right now.”

This makes Lila look at Adrien in a curious sort of way. Not the sad look that Marinette is giving him, but one of a slowly dawning realization. When Adrien references her as a friend, she looks happy. Proud, almost. Then, she looks like she’s connecting dots in her head, and she doesn’t look happy with the conclusion that she’s drawn. As soon as the frown touches her lips, Lila shifts back to an impeccably crafted mask.

Damian doesn’t agree with the sentiment that they are friends. He has barely had a full conversation with the blond, though he will admit that Adrien does have more of a brain than the rest of his classmates. He looks at the ill-concealed shadows beneath Adrien’s eyes and sees Tim.

Lila agrees almost immediately after Adrien finishes speaking. “Inspiration is fleeting. Art waits for no one.”

Marinette purses her lips. She asks Vincent, “You won’t get in any trouble for this?”

“I can handle any backlash Gabriel throws at me. Heaven knows that man has pissed off one too many photographers before.”

“You can, but what about everybody else involved?” She looks at Adrien, specifically. He fidgets with his ring again, and sends Marinette a look so pleading that she sighs. “Fine. I don’t mind doing the shoot.”

“Fantastico!” He turns his gaze to Damian.

“I’ll do it.” He’s never been particularly fond of photographers, given that the invasiveness of the media has led his family to various unpleasant situations, but Cass went through a photography phase, and out of all of his ‘sibling’ relationships, he is the most willing to indulge her.

“Will you tell us what the subject of the shoot is?” Marinette has inched closer to Adrien. Adrien pauses, stops fidgeting with his ring, and looks at Marinette. A world weary smile creeps onto his face, and his hand reaches out for Marinette’s like he wasn’t expecting himself to do that. He looks surprised when he finds his hand in hers, tenses for a moment. But Marinette doesn’t say anything, and rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. This seems to relax him more than fidgeting with his ring. He sags, and Damian can’t bring himself to feel anything but pity for Adrien. Lila looks curious, but not jealous.

Vincent surveys the four of them again, a growing smile on his face. “No, I think the four of you are already perfetto. A little direction here and there, but yes, yes, this is very good.”

“Lara, bring them to makeup. You know what to do. I must set up! Don’t call Gabriel; we will most likely be taking this to a second location at sunset.” Then, Vincent is off, muttering something in Italian under his breath.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this shoot,” Adrien rambles as soon as they get into makeup. “Vincent is such a great photographer and he’s taken really good care of me over the years. He’ll take good care of all of you as well.”

He continues, a little softer. “I really wanted to spend time with the three of you, together. I--I think it would be really nice if we could all be friends.”

Damian has his eyes closed because eyeshadow is being applied, but he can practically feel the surprise rolling off Marinette.

“Adrien, we are friends already.”

“We are, but we’re not really close. The only person I talked to often was Nino, and recently, father has-- ” he breaks off, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before speaking quickly in an attempt to speak up before losing his nerve. “But I don’t just mean friends with me, I mean the four of us. I want the four of us to be friends.”

The makeup artist who is working on Adrien shushes him, but Damian gets to open his eyes. Adrien is clearly nervous. He’s not shaking-- he is bred far too well for that-- but he has reverted back to fidgeting with his ring. He tries to bite his lip, but the makeup artist shakes her head and tuts.

The girls are both silent, and Adrien looks so nervous that he has to do something. He doesn’t think he’s interacted like this with anyone as nervous as Adrien before; his brothers were all big personalities, as were the Teen Titans. He may have come across nervous or anxious civilians as Robin, but those situations were more straight and cut, involving little to no talking. Damian decides to that a cross between how he interacts with Dick and how he interacts with the people he saves is the best bet for this situation, though his tone comes out more condescending than he planned.

“Why the four of us?” Damian can’t really see why Adrien has singled out the four of them. As far as he can tell, there’s no good blood between them. Adrien, Marinette, and Damian all harbor varying levels of dislike or discomfort towards Lila; Adrien, Lila, and Damian have all fucked over Marinette in various ways (or so he Damian assumes on Adrien’s part-- he is sure they would have been closer, otherwise); Lila, Marinette and Damian haven't talked to Adrien in any capacity that implies that they're more than mere acquaintances; Damian has done nothing that would put himself in the favor of the three.

Adrien fidgets even more, and the makeup artist smacks him and says that she doesn’t want to have to redo his eyeliner. “I think we all have a lot in common. And, I might not be good at showing it, but I like the three of you.”

Marinette makes some noise in disbelief and Lila narrows her eyes.

“Hear me out on this, guys. All of us try to help people when we can,”

“That’s basic human decency, Adrien,” Marinette says.

“Me, helping people?” Lila scoffs.

“We help people out more than most people do-- and Lila, you really do help people. Sure, you might not have been telling the truth about all of the celebrities or all of the charities you worked with, but you’ve helped a lot of charities throughout the years.”

Damian quirks an eyebrow. “And me?”

“I’ve heard about Silverstein and Company.” Adrien says, then continues on with his list of Reasons Why They Should Be Friends.

“None of us like telling people about our problems.”

This is met with no resistance.

“And we’re also all lonely.”

Silence.

Marinette’s makeup artist breaks up the oppressive silence, “And all good looking to boot!”

“It’s true what they say about the most beautiful,” Lila’s makeup artist says, “They’re always so troubled.”

Marinette laughs, but it’s strained. “Don’t worry Mademoiselle. We’re just being teens.”

“Loneliness isn’t a good reason to form relationships.” Lila says. Her voice is quiet. She looks off to some fixed point in the distance.

“It’s not the worst reason there ever was,” Adrien shrugs, satisfied now that he’s said his piece. His shoulders are back a little more now. Whatever happens next is up to them, not him. “And I like all of you. I think we all have very unique personalities that could work well together.”

Marinette shrugs her shoulders. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned about relationships, it’s that initial compatibility means very little in the grand scheme of things. Relationships can work as long as you work for them. They might not be the fairy tale storyline that people chase after, but relationships that are worked on last longer. Adrien could be right. We might be able to all be good friends.”

Lila fixes Marinette with a stare. “You’re willing to be my friend? After what I did to you?”

Marinette shouldn’t be willing to be friends with Lila after what she did. In fact, after reading multiple books on healthy relationships when trying to cope with Chloe way back when, she shouldn’t be willing to be friends with any of them. It feels fucked up, but Marinette realizes that Damian, who believed she was a super villain, has the least strikes against a healthy relationship currently.

Even though Marinette knows that circumstance doesn’t excuse any of them-- Marinette doesn’t excuse her stalkerish tendencies back when she first met Adrien, either-- she knows that the three of them are just teens who have too many responsibilities and problems on their shoulders. They’re capable of change, and as both Ladybug and Marinette, she wants to believe that someone’s past actions doesn’t mean they can’t move forward. Perhaps their current actions should be taken with a healthy dose of cynicism, and perhaps their past colors how much Marinette will be able to trust them in certain areas, but throughout her years of existence she’s seen that there is no person who has only done good in their life.

“You’ve been better lately. I respect someone who changes themselves for the better.” What Marinette doesn’t say; she’s mostly willing to try this tentative friendship out for Adrien’s sake, because Lila seems to be the only one who can get Gabriel Agreste on her side and Marinette needs her help if she and Adrien’s trust if she can ever dream of emancipating Adrien.

Marinette is also confident that Lila is currently coming into her own, and knows that Lila didn’t have any good example to model herself after during her formative years. The fact that she’s changing now? It’s honestly pretty impressive, and even more so considering the people that are in Mme. Bustier’s class aren’t exactly cut from the most inspirational cloth. Why Lila is trying to change is something Marinette is curious about, but they’re definitely not close enough for Marinette to ask Lila that. There is also the very important fact that Lila has not been akumatized this entire year, nor has she gone out of her way to encourage someone else’s akumatization.

A small smile settles on Lila’s face. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I am … sorry for what I did to you back then.”

Marinette hums with her eyes closed as a light layer of shadows placed on her crease. “I accept your apology. While we’re on this topic, I’d like to apologize to Adrien. I’m sorry that I haven’t been a very good friend to you. You’re an amazing person, and I want you to know that. Your self-worth should never be degraded by other people, and I really hope that you can come to rely on me.”

A watery, affectionate smile from Adrien. “Marinette, you’ve always been one of my best friends.”

“I regret what I said to you yesterday,” Damian cannot muster an apology-- he does not apologize, certainly not for doing his job, but Marinette is… useful. He needs her to accomplish her mission, and she’s kind.

There is no verbal response from Marinette, but she’s looking at him, at least. She hasn’t looked at him all day besides the one glare she gave him that told him to take care of Adrien.

Lila looks between the two of them. “What are you sorry for? I was under the impression that the two of you were great friends.”

He is sorry, if only slightly, but it takes a lot for him to get an apology. If anything, Marinette should be apologizing to him, for mistaking him as Hawkmoth, right? “Last night was--”

Marinette cuts him off with a sharp laugh. “Damian here thought I was Hawkmoth.”

Adrien bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you thought Marinette was Hawkmoth? Out of all the Parisians you could choose! You know she goes around the city saving random people, right? She’s our everyday Ladybug. Doesn’t sound very supervillainy to me.”

Lila laughs too, and the tension in the preparation room finally breaks. “Please, if Marinette were Hawkmoth, she would have gotten Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous already. Have you seen what a planner she is?”

This gets Adrien to fake shudder. “It’s true. If Marinette really were Hawkmoth, she’d be so powerful. She knows everybody’s deepest fears, can kick ass and take names, and can come up with the weirdest plans that solve everybody’s problems in an instant. Imagine if she went to the dark side.”

“She would make an awful akuma.” Lila agrees. “How powerful you are as an akuma is linked to how strong you are mentally and how strong your emotions are when the butterfly lands on you. Whatever makes Marinette upset enough to have an akuma after her would probably be the result of some very strong emotions.”

“She’d be strong enough to level the entire city.”

Marinette is bright red, and if it were not for the fact that mascara is being applied to her lashes, she’d probably have her face buried in her hands. “Okay, okay, I would be an awful akuma. But I won’t ever be akumatized, so it’s fine.”

Adrien thinks of Marinette being an akuma more, and his face goes pale. “She really would be able to steal Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses successfully.”

“No, she’s too morally righteous to do that. She’d probably go after Hawkmoth and win while she was akumatized.” Lila looks pensive. “All akumas retain most of their original personality traits, just exaggerated. Some even have some semblance of control over their actions.”

“If that wouldn’t be one of Anime’s top 10 betrayals, I don’t know what is. Hawkmoth akumatizes Marinette and then she rightfully kicks his ass.”

“Guys,” Marinette hisses. “I won’t ever become an akuma. Never.”

“You say that like you can refuse Hawkmoth,” Lila laughs. “You can certainly go after akumas, but refuse them? No way.”

Adrien zeroes in on Marinette’s hesitance. “Have you?”

Marinette shifts in her seat, her mouth set into a grim line.

“You have,” Adrien says with a touch of awe. Damian is impressed too; no reports of people being able to refuse an akuma have passed through the many hours of research he’s spent scouring the internet. He understands why Ladybug put so much trust in Marinette. “When?”

This sets Marinette on edge. Her back straightens into a board.

Lila picks at her fingernails in shame. “Did I?”

Marinette doesn’t respond, but the tremble of her mouth and her silence answers the question well enough.

Damian doubts he’ll ever get the full story of what happened that first year when Lila arrived. Marinette isn’t one to snitch, and Lila is both unwilling and tentatively ashamed of the past. Adrien won’t answer out of courtesy. Damian will never go to any of the other classmates to hear a bastardized version of what went down. He supposes he’ll never find out the whole truth.

Marinette’s stylist claps her hand. “Okay, enough teenage angst for today. All of your makeup is done, so it’s time to get into your outfits. Let’s go, kids.”

They’re silent as they dress.

The shoot is a flurry of excitement. There are many whispered conversations, but Marinette can’t keep track of half of them. Whenever she isn’t in a shot-- which is fairly rare as she seems to be the main subject of whatever Vincent is shooting for-- Marinette focuses on what needs to happen next. Though she’s still not currently the biggest fan of Damian or the Justice League, she will give them a fair chance, because as much as she hates to admit it, she needs the help. Batman is right. Even though she wasn’t actively working on the case for the first year, she still had plenty of time to gather evidence to back up her main suspects. Her lack of expertise in technology hinders progress greatly.

Not to mention that because Marinette was so wary about hurting Adrien and so swamped trying to keep a balanced schedule, she wasn’t able to find enough evidence to feel safe in her convictions. Master Fu warned her of incorrectly accusing Gabriel in the eye of the public, and he hasn’t come out to fight since the Scarlet Moth incident. She’s tried to investigate Gabriel in his own house, but any evidence slips through her fingers. He’s a very careful man.

Now that the promise of college is coming up, Marinette needs to take Hawkmoth down. Marinette doesn’t want to continue her schooling in France. Not anymore. She wants to go to a foreign college, where dreams of akumas won’t plague her at every step. Half the reason she finds herself on the streets as a civilian constantly is to erase the gory imagery of death and blood that linger in her mind eye from akuma battles. Seeing happy and alive citizens in all of the areas where Hawkmoth attacked make her feel better, but aren’t enough to chase away her nightmares entirely.

Marinette moves through the rest of the photoshoot in a haze. When she is in shot, she focuses on whoever she’s shooting with. Lila, with sharp green eyes, barely begins to lower her guard when Marinette directs the conversation towards past modelling shoots she’s been involved with. They interact unnaturally at first, but after starting to talk about Dior’s Spring/Summer ready to wear line, they find that they have similar tastes in silhouettes, though not in color.

She forces herself to ignore the fiasco that was last night, and talks to Damian about small nothings that don’t touch on anything important. When she runs out of topics, she begins to talk about Renee, and his gaze shifts to something resembling regret and some other emotion she can’t read. Dealing with whatever issues Damian has is not ideal. He’ll have to sort out his feelings on his own.

Adrien’s expressions are the easiest to read. Whenever he’s in a shot with Marinette, he is happy, plain and simple. There is less weight on his shoulders, and as Marinette attempts to cheer him up with poorly thought out puns, he looks like a kid again. He even starts punning back, and Marinette can’t believe how much she missed that. Chat Noir stopped punning a while ago, and it hurt in unexpected ways.

Really, Marinette just wants Adrien to be happy. Adrien is Chat Noir. Her best friend. Her partner. Marinette thinks Adrien deserves the world. She wants to pave a path for him so that his entrance into the adult world is easier, because the facade Gabriel has built of a picture perfect family attempting to cope with the loss of a mother and wife isn’t what Adrien needs.

Maybe Marinette wants him to have the childhood he wasn’t afforded. Marinette clings to warm memories of her own childhood, where Maman trained her in self defense and Papa taught her how to bake when things get particularly hard nowadays. Her heart warms when she sees Adrien give shy smiles to Damian and Lila. She’s proud when he strikes up conversations with them.

In all honesty, the only part of the shoot Marinette remembers is the last section of group photos they take when they move to a second location. It’s a cold day in Spring, which means Parisian tourists are more likely to be found inside an art museum, rather than on the beach. Adrien convinces them all that they should run around the beach, and somehow, they end up playing some extremely difficult version of capture the flag, but without the flags.

Somehow, Marinette ends up on a team of her own, for the sole reason that she’s the only one wearing white, and the person who holds the opposing team’s flag is Damian. She tackles him onto the sand, but not before both Lila and Adrien are hot on her tail. They end up in a pile, and Adrien’s laughter rings so sweet and true, that Marinette’s heart fills with love. She shifts, so her body is facing skywards instead of into Damian’s arm, and she reaches one arm across Damian’s body to grab Lila’s hand, who flinches at first touch, but relaxes. Marinette’s other hand finds itself tangled in Adrien’s hair, and despite the cold weather, Marinette is content.

She looks towards the horizon, where the sun is setting in a million different colors, and finds herself longing for a time where every day can be just like this moment.Where there is nothing filling her head except thoughts of the people who make her happy. Her eyes shift straight up.

Where morning fades into night, the sky is so very, very, blue.

Marinette’s room turns into an organized warzone at night.

The area of her room that was previously used to hold up various sketches and mood boards for designs in progress turns out not to be an upholstered wall, but a curtain that hides two whiteboards and a small library of books on the psychology of emotional manipulation, manuals of martial arts, and various books on strategy. The shelf above her desk space holds a projector that Marinette uses to project images from her computer onto the left white board.

“I’ll catch you up on my previous attempts and what you have to know in order for this partnership to work.” She takes her tablet out, flips through several screens, then uses her fingerprint to unlock a folder of notes. “This is a chronological list of things that Ladybug and I have attempted in order to find Hawkmoth’s location. There is a separate folder with suspects for identity that’s alphabetized. If you’re interested in more in depth analyses of past akumas, I can send that to you and your team’s emails now, as most of the information is readily available online. I’m assuming that you have a team, correct?”

“Yes, I can send their email addresses to your number.”

“No, for any information regarding Hawkmoth or superheroes in Paris, you can contact me through this number and email address. Ladybug and I both check it regularly; it’s a safer, more encrypted way of communication.” Marinettte taps her Miraculous communicator and connects it to her computer, so she can work on a bigger screen. “Which person is your main point of contact?”

“Oracle.”

Marinette contacts Oracle through video call. She doesn’t want to have to explain everything twice even if their partnership turns out to be nonviable. It takes a few moments to get through, but a woman’s face pops up on the screen. She’s a redhead and doesn’t wear a mask. Her coloring is obviously different from the rest of Batman’s affiliates, and despite her initial grievances with the white films over the vigilante’s eyes, she understand why it’s necessary; their suits aren’t magic, and there’s nothing stopping people from running facial recognition software and matching them up to people who reside in Gotham.

“How did you get this number?” Oracle asks warily.

Marinette moves her chair slightly so that Oracle can see Damian, who's currently looking at her tablet on her chaise. “I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, your point of contact in Paris and the one who will be working with you for the next week. As you can see, Damian’s already viewing some information that Ladybug and I have compiled over the years. Please get the rest of your team on this call. I’d like to get all of the basic information out of the way now.”

“Damian?” The girl on her screen is a dead ringer for the girl they compiled multiple files on yesterday, but she can’t get a trace on where they’re calling from, which makes her suspicious.

Damian shoots her a text, confirming that it is actually him in the room, then goes back to scrolling through the tablet.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Batman all appear on the screen shortly.

“Great, the gang's all here,” Marinette says unenthusiastically. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I will be your primary point of contact during your two weeks trial period here in Paris. I’m assuming that your team has been brought up on the events that occurred last night. In order for this attempted partnership to go more smoothly, I will provide you lists of suspects, past attempts at revealing Hawkmoth’s location, and more detailed information about all of the past akumas that have appeared. These files will only be available to you for the week unless the collaboration goes successfully. Damian has already given me your contact information.”

As an afterthought, Marinette adds, “Don’t bother trying to copy any of the files. You won’t be able to. You also won’t be able to pick up on my location through this video call; I’m using a Miraculous Communicator. The magic makes it so that any technology other than another Miraculous will be unable to find any identifying location.”

Marinette knows about this thanks to Max’s brief stint as Pegasus. Though Marinette had not yet learned spells that would allow her to materialize her communicator outside of the time that she was suited up, she had Max try to find Ladybug’s location after sending him a text. He and Markov were both unable to.

“Since the Justice League insists on sticking their nose where it does not belong,” Marinette can’t help but be bitter about this whole situation, despite the fact that her frustration with Damian has decreased. “Ladybug and I have created a plan to make full use of your resources while you’re still butting in. I’ve sent a list of which organizations need monetary support. Most are affiliated with mental health.”

“Let’s move onto how you guys as a team can help us. As far as I understand, Batman’s team is proficient in technology and investigation. For the past two years that we’ve actively been on the case, nobody has had those skill sets and been in the long term possession of a Miraculous. The police attempted investigation for the first year, but their evidence and information was largely unhelpful. I will give Damian the Miraculous Communicator that I am in possession of to use his skills with so long as he tells me what he’s doing with it and he uses it while I’m in his immediate vicinity. He can try to find out Hawkmoth’s location on it, perhaps with a greater degree of success that we have been able to.”

She goes through the checklist she made one more time, just to make sure that she didn’t miss anything. She doesn’t really expect anything much to come out of this collaboration, except for the reassurance that the Justice League won’t interfere at the end of the week. Speaking of: “One more thing. I want a notarized agreement that the Justice League will not interfere in Paris, nor will any of their agents of affiliates be sent here if this collaboration doesn’t yield information that is already known.”

“Got a lotta spark in you, don’t you, little mouse?” The vigilante called Red Hood-- the one with a helmet instead of a stupid domino mask-- laughs.

Marinette scowls. So far, the Justice League-- particularly the vigilantes of Gotham-- have not left her with a stunning first impression. Maybe she’s a little biased, but they certainly don’t seem to have any respect for her. Still, she only has to work with them for two weeks. “My name is Marinette, but clearly your helmet hasn’t shielded you from the memory loss that frequent concussions have clearly given you.”

“She got you there, dumb ass,” says Red Robin, a grin a mile wide on his face.

“Hood,” sighs Oracle, sounding highly stressed. Marinette decides that she is the most likeable. “Like I said earlier, we want to be on good terms with Marinette.”

“I’ll get you the documents and funds by tomorrow.” Batman’s voice is just as gravelly as the first time she contacted him. She finds that the more she hears him speak, the more pleasant she finds his voice. An acquired taste. “Even if this week is unsuccessful, the Justice League will be more than happy to continue to fund these organizations. Is there anything that Ladybug, Chat Noir, or you need personally?”

“None of us are going to use the Justice League’s funds for personal gain, Batman.” The accusations grates on her.

“Batman means,” Nightwing shoots a look to the side of his screen. Interesting, Marinette thinks. All of Gotham’s vigilantes are in one location, judging by their backgrounds and the location tags that her communicator provides her. Perhaps they have a headquarters of some sort. Back when there were extra heroes on the Miraculous team, Marinette sometimes wished that they had a location that they could all reliably gather at without revealing someone’s identity. It certainly would have made strategy easier. “That being a hero without any support is difficult. It must have taken a toll on your personal lives. If we can aid in any way, we will. We can excuse absences or hire tutors as necessary.”

“I’m no hero.” But Nightwing’s proposal may actually be helpful. Even though Marinette is making the grades necessary to go to the colleges that she wants, her continual absence and tardies aren’t very flattering.

Then her mind flashes to Adrien. Can she use this offer to get him out from underneath Gabriel’s thumb? Marinette doesn’t know if she can do that. He’s already in a delicate position-- and already at risk, thanks to the photoshoot earlier today-- and she’s not sure that Gabriel won’t move towards drastic measures if anything changes on Adrien’s end. If she wants to get him away from Gabriel, she may have to reveal his secret identity.

“Ladybug will make the decision for herself; she has access to everything that is said during our meetings. Chat Noir isn’t in the loop about our communications or any of the investigations that Ladybug and I have done. Ladybug says that he’s stressed in his civilian life, which is why his appearances have been decreasing,” Marinette admits. “I’ll leave it up to Ladybug to give your offer to Chat Noir. If I can get a reliable excuse to get out of class or get to class late, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Chat Noir doesn’t know?” Red Robin sounds horrified.

“He’s currently a high risk for being akumatized. Ladybug didn’t want to risk it.”

Red Hood crosses his arms. “So you have more of a job than Chat Noir does in all of these Paris heroics, huh?”

Even if Chat Noir did know, Marinette would have her hand in the pie at least twice as much as him.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just more available than he is.”

“And more trusted than he is,” Red Hood insists.

It’s not that Ladybug trusts Marinette more than she trusts Chat Noir, it’s that Ladybug is Marinette. But she’s not going to admit that. Not to them, and certainly not until Hawkmoth is taken down. Maybe not even then. She can only imagine the looks of devastation that she’ll get if she does admit that she’s been Ladybug all these years. Her parents will freak out, Adrien will probably feel heart broken and betrayed, and Alya and the rest of her classmates will inevitably rail on either her or Lila or both of them. It just doesn’t sound appealing to her anymore, though she can certainly remember a time not so long ago where she so desperately wanted to expose her identity.

“You’d have to ask Ladybug that,” Marinette settles on. She copies and pastes one of the many messages that she has pre drafted and schedules it to send a few minutes later, so Batman’s team receives a communication from Ladybug while Marinette is at the white board. She spent all of last night preparing for this meeting, imagining so many scenarios that she barely slept. The email she’s sending will suggest what Damian should attempt to do with the Miraculous communicator that Marinette has. She adds in an extra comment that she trusts Chat Noir with her life, and that she’ll talk to him about offering him help in his civilian life, but won’t mention anything about the Justice League.

“Why doesn’t Ladybug just use her own communicator to join in on these calls?” Red Robin asks after receiving her email.

Marinette turns from the white board, where she is listing the past three akuma attacks and where her top three suspects were at each of the times. “There may be magic surrounding her identity, but that doesn’t mean Ladybug wants more time for all of you to try to figure out her identity.”

“Sounds irresponsible of her,” says Red Hood. “Leaving a civilian to do all of the dirty work. Who are those people you have listed on the board?”

Marinette decides to let the comment about Ladybug slide. Red Hood is currently her least favorite out of all of Gotham’s vigilantes, but she has to remind herself that respect is mutual, and Ladybug hasn’t really given them much to go on.

“The top three suspects for Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste, the CEO and head designer of Gabriel. Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant of over twenty years. Mikael Bordeaux, CFO of Silverstein and Company's French holdings.”

Oracle takes off her glasses and wipes them. “Sounds like your top candidates are all people in pretty high positions.”

“Agreste,” repeats Nightwing. “Agreste, as in Adrien Agreste? The boy that’s in Damian’s class?”

“The same,” Marinette says, not sure she likes where he’s taking this conversation.

“Hold up,” Red Robin says after a few moments. “Why is it that Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer are on your list? Both Gabriel and Nathalie have been akumatized before. That should automatically take them out of the running.”

Marinette shakes her head. “That’s what I thought in the beginning, while the police were still in charge of the case. But based on my understanding of akumas, it’s very possible that Hawkmoth can transform, send out an akuma, then detransform and let themself be akumatized.”

The whole Collector incident was a deliberate ploy to throw her off. She spent at least half a year convinced that Gabriel and Hawkmoth couldn’t possibly be one in the same, despite the fact that he had the Miraculous Tome.

“What about Adrien, then? He’s the only one in your class that hasn’t been akumatized, sans yourselves, he hangs out with the people most likely to cause and become akumas, and has caused a fair number of akumas himself. Besides, he must know it if his dad’s Hawkmoth, which means he could be Mayura or even Hawkmoth himself.” Even if Red Robin presented her this theory before Marinette knew Adrien was Chat Noir, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth.” Marinette isn’t sure how to explain how she knows without revealing his alter ego. She can’t tell them that he wielded the snake Miraculous either, because that contradicts her earlier statement that she didn’t know any of the other holders.

“Demon Spawn,” Red Hood says. “What do you think about Adrien? You’ve been in a class with him for the past month.”

Damian finally looks up from Marinette’s tablet, blinking to bring himself back into the situation at hand. “What?”

Marinette scoffs, remembering that he thought that she was Hawkmoth. She’s not upset about it, but she doesn’t trust his ability to discern alter egos-- at least not magical alter egos. “I wouldn’t trust Damian’s ability to read people as reliable evidence to tell whether someone is Hawkmoth or not.

This causes a myriad of reactions from Batman’s team and most of them are surprisingly loud. Red Hood whoops, “Roasted,” while Red Robin laughs and pounds the desk in front of them. Oracle smiles wide, her eyes crinkling. Even Batman manages to draw a smile to his face.

This makes Damian put down her tablet on the chaise and flush slightly. “I said I was sorry for that.”

Marinette thinks about brushing him off in annoyance but decides against it. Just based on the evidence that he gathered, it wasn't an awful assumption, and the Miraculous magic probably prevented him from even thinking about the possibility that she could be Ladybug, leading him to the next most possible conclusion. “It’s fine.”

In fact, even if Marinette can’t trust Batman and his affiliates with Chat Noir’s civilian identity, she should still try to maneuver Adrien away from his current situation. She can call it in as a personal favor to Marinette, and as long as they have human decency, they should agree to her request. She’s been gathering receipts that detail Gabriel’s systemic abuse of Adrien for years. This is a good opportunity to begin Adrien’s emancipation process. She’s currently on her way to a better friendship with Adrien, and since Batman insists the Justice League has all the resources that she wants, there’s no reason not to take advantage of them. She turns back to the camera.

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth and wouldn’t know whether his father or personal assistant are. In fact, it would be preferable to remove Adrien from Gabriel’s care; Adrien is in danger of being akumatized because of how awfully Gabriel treats him, and I have the evidence necessary to take him to court. I just need a legal team that’s good enough to go against a billion dollar company.” And time to convince Adrien that he needs to leave. That may be a more difficult task, considering the unending love and forgiveness he’s displayed for matters concerning his father so far. Honestly, sometimes Marinette thinks that he never learned how to hold a grudge.

“Noted. Let’s come back to that later, though. I want to talk about some other suspects you have on this list you gave us.” Oracle readjusts her headpiece and shoots a glare over her shoulder, presumably to tell the rest of her team to quiet down and get back on task. They certainly have an interesting team dynamic. They’re much warmer to each other than Marinette first expected them to be. They’re certainly closer than she and the Miraculous Team had been, when there still was a team, at least.

Oracle shares her screen. On it is a picture of Andre Bourgeois. “If Hawkmoth is able to be akumatized, then Mayor Bourgeois is one of our top suspects. The Justice League has compiled multiple lists of suspects before we sent Damian to Paris. He stopped a lot of international press for akuma attacks and has caused multiple akumas.”

Marinette frowns. Mayor Bourgeois being Hawkmoth crossed her mind a few times, but she always decided that he was largely incapable and had little motivation. “What are your criteria for deciding who might be Hawkmoth? I highly doubt Mayor Bourgeois is Hawkmoth, despite him stopping the press.”

“We determine how many akumas a person has caused, how much damage the akuma caused to the person’s primary residence and workplace, and how well they’re connected to the people being akumatized. Andre Bourgeois has been involved in the akumatization of slightly more than half of all the akumas that have occurred, so long as we include his relation to his daughter and wife and there has been extraordinary little damage done to the arrondissements that he frequents.”

“Interesting. Share the list with the contact information I sent you earlier. You share some of the same criteria as we have come up with, but you’re drawing the wrong information from what you have. Akumas caused is also one of our criteria, as well as the damage that has been done to the person’s residence. I don’t think that a person’s personal relations play much into who ends up being akumatized, however, there’s good reason to believe that Hawkmoth is in a position of power, or at least well connected. They seem to know what’s happening in the city before it ever hits the news.” Marinette opens a program on her computer, then turns on the projector to display a map with pins.

“We’ve been interested in the location of primary suspects at the time of akumatization; Ladybug believes that Hawkmoth’s Miraculous power is restricted to Paris. Which means that Hawkmoth needs to be in or close to Paris at the times of all akumas, which crossed Mayor Bourgeois of my list a while ago. He’s been absent for multiple akumas when he needed to go to conferences outside of Paris. The purple dots are Gabriel, the red ones are Nathalie, and the blue ones are Michael. You can see that they’ve all been in Paris every time an akuma occurred and within a ten mile radius of where the akuma was first spotted. That’s quite unusual, considering they’re all in high positions of companies that should typically have them travelling.”

There is also the little detail that Marinette found the Miraculous Tome in the hands of Gabriel Agreste, but Marinette doesn’t feel safe indulging them with that information yet. If she tells them, they will want to see pictures of the book.

“How haven’t you cracked this case wide open yet?” Red Robin looks at the screen appreciatively. It’s clear that Marinette spent a lot of time on this.

Marinette bristles. She may have a good amount of information, but her proficiency with technology leaves much to be desired. It took her an unnecessarily long time in order to get the map up and running. “Well, Red Robin, that might have something to do with the fact that neither Ladybug nor I knew anything about how to use technology in the way that was necessary to track him once the police handed over the case in the second year. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that falsely accusing someone as Hawkmoth could ruin their entire life.”

Master Fu warned her against direct actions against anyone on her suspect list. In fact, he outright forbade her from doing anything, and although she no longer takes his words at face value after the many bumps in their relationship, she’s not going to try to ruin any of these people without evidence. Especially not Gabriel, not when he’s Adrien’s father.

Red Robin frowns.

Marinette takes a deep breath. She’s too tense. She’s been taking every word that these vigilantes say as something they don’t actually mean. Marinette needs to relax. Jumping to conclusions helps no one.

Damian’s eyes are on her, and she’s sure he’s passing judgment. She needs to get out of this situation, get out of this headspace. It’s not productive or healthy.

“I think we should end this meeting now,” Damian says, and Marinette begrudgingly agrees with him. She knows this is his olive branch.

“You were the one who was upset at the lack of time,” Oracle points out. “We don’t have much time. We need every minute we can get.”

“Marinette has given us plenty of information to digest for one night. We’ll regroup tomorrow and start on coding the programs to determine Hawkmoth’s location.” Damian reaches over Marinette to end the call.

Obstinately, Marinette refuses to look him in the eyes. She’s been flip-flopping this entire day, and it’s not doing any great wonders for her mental health. Everything’s been coming to a head in these past few days, and it isn’t a good feeling. She can feel the pressure on her shoulders, the expectant gazes of all of Paris to do her duty and expose Hawkmoth, but she feels the weight of the inevitable backlash Adrien will face if her theories are true.

The past few days feel like three years compressed. People she’s never interacted with have inserted themselves into the fray, and the big leagues have pulled out all the stops. She just talked to Batman and his team. He’s been in the hero game for decades, and she’s in the room with his son, Robin.

Everything is just too much.

Marinette feels like she’s been a bad Ladybug. Like she hasn’t done enough to find concrete evidence of her primary suspects because she is afraid of what will happen after. She’s half surprised she hasn’t gone into hysterics yet, but then again, she’s gotten very good at holding herself together when everything around her falls apart. The added touch of an outsider makes the fragile balance she’s achieved teeter.

Damian takes her distressed appearance personally and heaves a sigh. “Look, I --I didn’t think that you were Hawkmoth all along, only for a day before everything went down. I don’t know what I wanted out of you, but your friendship was nice. I did genuinely want to be friends with you, and I still do.”

This makes Marinette feel even worse. She’s trying so hard to find fault with Damian-- which is surprisingly easy-- in order to distance herself. She can’t afford to get attached to someone who can hurt her and is likely to hurt her, because an akumatized Ladybug is the last thing Paris needs. But hearing him apologize so genuinely means that Marinette can’t summon up a negative response. She may not be able to say that she truly knows Damian, but she knows that he is a very prideful person. It can’t have been easy for him to apologize to her so openly. An acidic response rests on her tongue for a moment before she pushes it back.

“You were just trying to follow up on a lead. I shouldn't blame you.”

“But you do.”

He hit the nail on the head. Marinette grimaces, letting her eyes flick over Damian’s hunched shoulders and set jaw. She doesn’t blame him for thinking that she’s Hawkmoth, but she does blame him for getting the Justice League more involved, which makes exactly zero sense if she evaluates the situation logically. Her heart feels like Damian is the element of change; if he never arrived in Paris, Marinette would still have everything under a better semblance of control. It doesn’t matter that Batman said the JLA had been looking into Paris for half a year, and that even if Damian weren’t sent, there would have been someone else.

It’s fitting that in order to move forward, they must break down whatever security that Marinette has built into her life, because life is just cruel enough to mess her up like that. Right now, she’s a wreck mentally, emotionally, and even physically. Marinette can feel her throat closing up.

“It’s not your fault,” she offers. “And maybe if we get out of our current situation, we can try being friends again. But right now? I-- there’s just too much stress on me, right now.”

Damian understands this, but as he descends the steps of her ladder, Damian can’t help but wish that she felt otherwise.

Omake

“How is it that Mayor Bourgeois is not in your top three suspects for Hawkmoth? He’s stopped a lot of international press about the akuma for the first year!”

Marintte deadpans. “Honestly? The man is way too stupid to ever be Hawkmoth.”

“Haven’t we come to the conclusion that Hawkmoth is stupid though? He couldn’t steal jewelry from two untrained teenagers for years!”

Marinette decides not to take offense at that, and concedes. “Fine, maybe he should be on the list. I’d certainly akumatize Chloe and Audrey Bourgeois if I had to interact with them on a daily basis.”

_______________________________________________________

will these be regularly scheduled? absolutely not, even though i have the whole thing finished because i get the feeling that i am going to Change Things sooner or later (somebody please smack some sense into me everything in this story goes awfully very soon and the plot goes wonky and AHHHH)

#maribat #sbgs #miraculous ladybug #dc #daminette #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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the-world-of-jo · 4 years ago

Text

Perseus Gambit - A Lancer TTRPG

A story I wrote for a game I play... It won't make much sense if you don't play, but I am actually proud of this piece, so. (And it's too big to put in our discord, so. >.>)

When you realize how serious things are, you aren’t prepared. As soon as Doc gives you permission, you zip into the medical wing to snag a slate, indicating you’ll be keeping it with you for a couple of days then head to your favorite reading spot in Hydroponics. It’s there the gravity of the situation hits you, and you slump back in your seat, shocked with a feeling of helplessness washing over you.

And then you realize, you’re a geneticist. This is your wheelhouse, you *know* how to repair something like this on a cellular level. And then you’re cancelling your counseling session for that afternoon, promising to circle back with her to reschedule as you head back to the labs.

You manage to avoid her for about a month before Dr. Marchand shows up in front of you. Coincidently, you’re coming out of Noah’s quarters and it’s first thing in the morning, so you have a feeling you’ve been ratted out. You give Sparky a healthy dose of side eye, but you can’t help but spare a bit for Noah as well.

They both look way too innocent for your liking.

*_*_*

You have no fucking idea how to fix this. Not a single one.

Every sim you run comes back not only with bad results, but with *fatal* results. There are over 150,000 genes in a single human, and only 5% of them on average are coded. The Kennedy’s seem to have an additional 3%, all of those enhancing their strength, speed, sight, hearing, smell…

They were also disease resistant, so whatever was affecting Elias was almost absolutely genetic. But Doc had that much figured out.

The jarring ***”BONG”*** of another failed sim is followed in rapid succession by three more, and you sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Then, you get back to work, filing away the results and setting up new sims.

There was still time. Not a lot, but you intended to make the most of it. You ‘steal’ a few other unused computers and begin running sims on those, corralling a few sub alts to move them into what’s been coined as “Lee’s Area”. Someone even made a little paper sign and it made you chuckle.

You sat back and logged into a ninth research station, beginning to look up any new research methods or new genetic information that might have come available since you left Union Space.

It doesn’t surprise you that what you and Doc have been doing is light years beyond anything you find in published works.

*_*_*

The clock in your head is making ‘tick-tock’ noises at random times, and you know it’s an auditory hallucination, but god fucking damnit it needs to quit. You make sure to keep this away from both Drs. Marchand and Lakani, and for the most part, you succeed.

But now, signs of degradation are showing up in Noah. ***Your*** Noah.

You begin snagging more computers as they sit idle. One sub-alt has been stationed near your area for a couple of weeks now since you always seem to request him. Yes, him. You’ve named him Bruce, after Bruce Banner. It’s a nerd joke and it makes you smile, but nobody else seems to understand.

That’s okay though.

Doc tried banning you from the labs until you got some decent rest and food. And you tried, you really did, but.

In less than two hours, you were moving through the ducts, army crawling at times. You pulled a screwdriver out of your back pocket and undid the screws holding a grate in place, and moving it aside you dropped gracefully into the middle of your area.

Right in front of Doc.

Nodding at him in greeting, you pulled a sandwich and a bottle of Galaxy Dew from your backpack and set it at your research desk, then sat your butt down and resumed working. You left your slate on it’s home screen purposefully since your background was a picture of Noah holding Sparky (that you’d taken with permission).

Doc didn’t miss the gesture and instead of ordering you back out, he had Raum lift the restrictions on you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You hear the doors whoosh open and in trots Sparky, a bag of granola and a bag of trailmix held in his mouth. He puts his paws on your knee and looks hopeful that his offering will be accepted. You can’t help but smile and pet him gently. “Thanks for the snacks buddy. I forgot to get dessert.”

Sparky looks quite happy as you add the baggies next to your sandwich.

You do actually eat everything.

*_*_*

Eventually though, one night, while you’re alone in the labs, the last ***”BONG”*** still fresh in your mind, you look up at the ceiling and ask Raum for help. You just need a direction, to know *where* to look. This random shooting in the dark bull shit is getting everyone nowhere and fast.

In your experience, ‘mad scientist’ types have a signature, a way they do things or a way they code things. You’ve been able to figure out which high profile geneticist has written a certain piece in journals, not by their wording but by their projects, and you can’t think of anyone more infamous than Cyrus Jacobi.

Or, as the medical world knew him - Josef Mengele.

If anyone from HA had even mentioned him, and that person had anything to do with their cloning programs, it’d at least, at the ***very least*** point you in a direction, because mad scientist types had a signature, and they liked paying homage to their heroes.

And then one day, Tane asks you “If you could have anything…”

And you tell him. You give him a laundry list of things that could assist you, and you realize if this information ever got into your hands, you’d be very very close to being arrested and tossed in the brig for *life*.

You think *Three squares a day, an actual bed to sleep on...If I handled Milaniko for ten years, I can handle that for life.*

And you wait.

***”BONG, BONG, BONG”***

The sound begins to haunt your dreams.

*_*_*

Noah is the only one who can coax you out, and he does so every day to have dinner with you and make sure you get some rest after.

The guilt gnaws at you when you slip out of bed well before your alarm goes off, and head toward the labs. But time is running out, and that fucking clock is getting louder and louder. It doesn’t matter that people are staring at you, and the fact that your clothes are pretty damn loose doesn’t matter either.

Your nutritional profile has been met each and every day thanks to protein shakes and bars, and Sparky is...suspicious. He’s not advanced enough to know you’re effectively working the system, but he knows *something* is not right. In his view, you should not be losing weight.

Well. You are. But it can be remedied once you figure this shit out.

Doc has been forcing you to take breaks, just for an hour. When your schedules align (and they do at least once a day and you know Doc is doing that on purpose and you love him for it), you spend the time with Noah in his office, grabbing a snack or dozing in one of the extra chairs.

The times you don’t line up with Noah, you head to the mech bay and straight to Beauty, always bringing an offering of donuts or some type of potato dish. Opal is kind enough to not turn you away, Beauty’s hand lowering to lift you up to the cockpit. You’re always sure to thank Beauty, then you sit next to Opal, your offering balancing on both your knee and hers.

She doesn’t question you, doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t comment when you know you’re muttering out loud. Sometimes she leans against you, her shoulder offering quiet support and those are the hardest times, when you have to clench your jaw shut to keep from openly sobbing and admitting how scared you are. How you’re not sure if you can figure this puzzle out, and as a result of your own incompetence you stand to lose not only a dear friend, but the love of your life.

You have a feeling she knows what thoughts run through your head, and you’re grateful that she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even comment on the tears that track down your cheeks only to fall from your chin.

You are so, so grateful for that, and you somehow draw strength from sitting with her.

It’s enough that you can head back into the lab yet again.

*_*_*

The next time the Dvorak drops out of near light, you’ve all but moved into the labs. You don’t notice the whoosh of the doors opening at first, but that’s because you’re all but actually absorbing the data on one of the doctors involved with HA cloning, who did indeed cite Jacobi as an amazing scientist.

When the sub-alt rolls up, you mistake it for Bruce, but then Raum’s voice is piped into your brain via your shunt.

A gift. From Tane.

You look at the isolated slate, then take it from the alt, thanking Raum profusely. You stare at it for a moment, the device seeming so small in your hands.

You rip the privacy screen from your own slate (and you may have actually broken the screen - Marcus will be pissed if he has to replace another one) and slap it onto the new one and begin devouring the information. There’s so much here, too much, enough that you have to ask Raum to help you sift through it all.

But...but...when he flags pages he thinks you need, your heart races.

Schematics. Not of the Kennedys, but of prior models.

Maintenance records, upkeep recommendations. Nutritional requirements, formulae for a metabolic stabilizer…

And then you see it. Written by the doctor who quoted Jacobi.

***Genetic coding information***.

You rip through the document and as you read, you begin to babble.

“Jesus fuck, it’s in the junk. They actually put it in the junk DNA, where nobody would fucking think. We need to change everything, absolutely everything, did he work on the...Ken...He did, he fucking did, he worked on the Kennedys, okay, so if that’s the case I’m betting he put them in the same places but there’s probably different locks, different fail safes but if we find one we can tweak it to fit other locks and we need to rethink everything christ we don’t have enough *time* and -”

Hands on your shoulder make you look up, and instinctively you pull the slate against your chest, protecting it. Raum has gone quiet in your mind.

“My boy,” Doc says. “You’re speaking in tongues.”

“We need to change where we look,” you blurt out. “They put the locks in the junk DNA. We need to change course, we need more computers, we need -”

“What? Brawley…” Doc’s eyes stray to the slate and you pull it closer to your chest. He knows there’s something on there that you shouldn’t have and he’s silent for a moment.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shaking you just a bit for emphasis.

“Yes.” Your voice doesn’t waiver.

He nods, then turns from you and begins barking out orders to other assistants and all the screens go black. It takes but a moment for them to reboot, blank screens ready for new directives.

You log into each one individually and set up sims, directing the machines to paw through almost 125,000 pieces of DNA.

You still need more machines.

*_*_*

A few days later you zip into the lab only to find your area almost empty. Your heart lurches from your chest into your throat, but Doc is there, turning you to the right and giving you a nudge forward.

There’s a new section in the lab. Huge, with bright lights, tons of computer banks, frosted windows and a door with a keypad and retina scanner for entry. And the name plaque reads “Brawley Stonehurst”

You pause only enough to look back at Doc and offer him a grin, but then you’re rushing forward, Sparky right behind you, the door opening with a quiet whoosh. There’re more computers than you’ve ever dared ‘steal’ on the main floor, but you quickly commandeer each and every one, setting them up for various sims.

The grating ***”BONG”*** is still the sound you’re constantly hearing.

*_*_*

It’s been a bad day. There’s talk of ventilation for Elias, and he really needs to come off of active duty, but he’s fighting tooth and nail to remain.

Noah hasn’t been able to really lead his classes, nor has he been able to spar with Masek at the level they’re both used to. Sparky has taken it upon himself to spend most of his time with Noah. When he asks you if this is acceptable, you say it is and rearrange his priorities to put Noah first and yourself second.

Doc finds out and he’s in your office questioning the decision, pointing out that Noah and Elias aren’t the only ones deteriorating, and you’re about to call him out on the pot calling the kettle black, but…

But…

***”BING”***

You both stop, staring at each other, and it takes you almost a solid minute to realize one of the sims has finished.

And the text, it’s not *green*, it’s not a *success*, but it’s...not a critical fail. The text is yellow, telling you that you’re on the right track but you need to tweak things and you can do that, the data is promising and you look at Doc and you can feel yourself grinning and -

***”chime”***

Again, you both stop and you know your eyes are huge, you know this because his are as well. It doesn’t take nearly as long for you to begin looking around frantically -

***”chime”.......”chime”......”chime”***

One by one, five different screens light up with green text.

*_*_*

Dr. Anath Lakani is fucking amazing. There’s a reason you’ve been starry eyed since he said he’d take you on as a resident. Your mind is quick, and you know this, but his…

Christ on a cracker, watching that man work is breathtaking for a science nerd like you.

He takes your findings and spins the results into formulae and then spins those into an actual therapy faster than anything you’ve ever seen. And you watch, because this is porn for you, this creating something to save a life from numbers and codes and this and that. In theory, you can do this as well, but not this quickly.

Doc’s skills come from years of experience, and you are nothing short of a captive audience.

Arrangements are made to have Elias come in the very next morning and he’s agreeable. His words were something along the lines of “What have I got to lose?”, and that just…

Your breath leaves you as if you were punched in the gut, and *gods*...

“Please let this work,” you whisper to yourself as you head home.

To Noah. Who is resting in his quarters and only quirks a brow as he looks up from his slate when you come in, then lean back against the door, just looking at him.

He’s pale, too pale, with shadows under his eyes. And you’re not sure if it’s fact or if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but his cheekbones seem even more pronounced today than they did yesterday.

“It’s early,” he murmurs, and it is, not even gone 20:00 yet. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I wanted...shower,” you finish lamely.

Legally, you can’t tell him. This is Elias’ business, not Noah’s.

But there’s that soft smile, the one that’s just for you. “Go on then,” he says. “I’ll have a sub alt bring something from the mess.”

“You gonna eat too?”

“I’ll have something.”

He knows you’ll pester him. Even though he really doesn’t have much of an appetite.

While in the shower, you think about the sims running for Noah’s treatment. You’re jumping the gun, but Elias’ is almost completely mapped out, with only one part of the therapy being in question. In theory, even if that fails, the results will tell you and Doc where to go next, but that clock is still ticking, loud as ever.

You must have been in there a lot longer than you thought, because the next thing you know Sparky’s sitting outside the shower stall looking up at you. Once he sees he has your attention, he sends a query, checking on you.

*Just lost in thought,* you reply.

*Supper is here! KenKen has lounge coverings waiting for you. They are nice and warm!* And with that, Sparky dashes out of the bathroom.

After drying off, going out to get dressed (and you don’t miss the appraising look Noah gives you, but you ignore it because no, you don’t look your best and you realize this but that’s not what he’s concerned about) and eating, you curl up with him, your head on his shoulder.

It’s quiet in a way that ships are, which is to say it’s not *really* quiet, but there’s no voices, no computers, no bonks or bings or chimes or anything. Just the sound of Noah breathing, and if you hold your breath, his heart beat.

“Elias is starting a new therapy in the morning,” you whisper and you feel Noah go still against you. “The projected success rate of the first two rounds is 98%, but the third is hovering around 80%. Even if the third is a failure, we’ll know by the results which way to go. Doc is prepping the bases tonight and tomorrow, but it’s still going to be close, I think. Depends if it fails if it causes any domino effects.”

He’s staring at you now, so you continue.

“I’m running your sims in my office, and two have finished. They weren’t successful, but they weren’t failures. I’m going off the assumption that since you and Elias are from the same...batch,” (that term burns in your throat) “that you’ll need similar therapies.”

“How,” Noah starts, his voice raspy. He clears his throat, then resumes. “How did you…?’ He can’t finish the question, and you don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know what to ask or if it’s because he can’t ask, but you look up at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you whisper. He’s head of security, and even if this would save his life, he would be duty bound.

His eyes leave you and move to your backpack, the forbidden slate hidden inside. He’d seen it, before, noticed it wasn’t yours or one from medical and asked about it. You’d pretended not to hear him, raising your head and blinking, bleary eyed (that wasn’t a lie, at least).

*Raum,* you send out over the comms and his reply is almost instant.

*Taken care of.*

You know the next time you pick the slate up, it’ll be blank. But that’s okay. You also know the information is someplace safe, and all you have to do is ask Raum in order to access it.

When Noah’s eyes return to you, you’re already asleep, curled protectively around him.

*_*_*

When Elias’s third round fails, it is almost catastrophic and both you and Doc are scrambling to keep him stable until the last formulae can be finished. The two of you work well together, both talking over each other and accessing various machines via your neural connections. Nobody will be able to convince you that was the only reason Elias was stabilized as quickly as he had been - while neither of you is super humanly fast, you’re faster than the average person and with both of you working, it’s...harrowing, but it could have been worse.

Much, much worse.

But, the now fourth round is administered and it works, it works so beautifully. Further degradation is essentially halted, or at the very least slowed to a crawl and not only that, but Elias’ body can begin repairs. His stem cells are fine, and with that vital system working as intended, modern medicine only needs to give his respiratory and cardiac systems a boost to get healing started.

Noah’s therapies go so much smoother, and you feel a little guilty for that. Elias doesn’t give a fuck, and the day he’s taken off his oxygen feed his smile stretches from ear to ear.

Noah wears one similar to it, and you finally know what people mean when they say their hearts are so full that they’re bursting.

Physical therapy is something Elias is eager to start, and you’ve got your hands in that as well because you cannot and will not leave either of these men alone it seems. But in this case, it’s not a bad thing because while you’re in the gym with Elias, you’re working on your own fitness regimen as well.

His upper body strength comes back slowly, but his lower body is a bit slower still, if only because he’d been in a wheelchair for an extended period of time. Hydro therapy was a thing for a while, but eventually, Elias began trying to stand.

You’re hella impressed at his determination, and his positive attitude makes you smile. You’re there with him when he stands on his own for the first time, the sub alt holding his chair steady in case he needs to sit back down quickly. You’re aware Cap is in the room as well, but your attention is solely on Elias. It’s a bit of a struggle, and his face is flushed and his breathing slightly labored (his oxygen saturation is at 98%, so you’re not in the least bit worried), but eventually, he’s standing. He takes a breath, finds his balance, and lets go of the supports.

His legs don’t buckle. He looks down as if he’s having trouble believing it, then he looks up at you and grins that infectious grin and you can’t help but smile back.

Then you notice Cap, who’s watching, and you’re not sure, but his eyes look suspiciously bright. He looks to you and nods with a smile, and you look back to Elias and move to help him sit back down, then step away as father and son have a moment, Cap moving closer and speaking softly to Elias.

*_*_*

You’re sitting with the entire group, including Noah (because you asked him to come have dinner and he said yes because he loves you and he also loves Masek’s cooking because who does NOT love Masek’s cooking???) when the alert chimes at the door. It takes a minute for it to open, but when it does, Elias is standing there, grinning, and he walks in under his own power.

That night, the only sound haunting your dreams is laughter and you’ve never slept better in your life.

#Space Shenanagains #Brawley Stonehurst #Noah Kennedy #Elias Kennedy #Lancer #Perseus Gambit #I cannot spell but I did use spell check

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nighting-gale17 · 5 years ago

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hi! sorry to hear that you’ve been having a shitty day, I hope it gets better for you!! for a prompt, if you want, how about after the tsunami Buck’s parents stop by his apartment for a surprise visit, ‘worried’ and ‘concerned’ for him but they just end up making everything worse and him more stressed out with some protective Eddie? no worries if not!!

my shitty day is over!!! thanks for this amazing prompt, i kind of ran very, very, very far with it and it is soooooo much longer than I anticipated. i really hope you enjoy it! and everyone, feel free to leave more prompts in my ask box! i love getting them from you all!!!!

tw: metions of child abuse

Buck should’ve known from the moment he saw the footage on the television that this was going to bite him in the ass. Somehow, a news helicopter that was flying over the scene of the tsunami had caught footage of him rescuing a bunch of people and pulling them onto the firetruck with him and Christopher. They’d manage to find out who he was somehow (social media was fantastic, right?), and when they did, and they realized he was the same firefighter who had been crushed by the ladder truck a few months ago, the story went viral.

It was exhausting, constantly having people ask for interviews and jumping him every time he tried to leave his apartment to get a comment on how he felt being a ‘hero’. They’d even shown up at the station, good-intentioned reporters digging into his personnel files and demanding to know why he hadn’t been reinstated after passing all of his evaluations.

The bright side was Buck had finally been reinstated, full duty, as a result of the pressure of the reporters, media, and people of LA in general. He was grateful for this, at least, which is why he finally agreed to an interview with the reporter who had had a big part in helping him get his job back.

The interview had been short and sweet, much to Buck’s relief, and the reporter, Cameron, just seemed satisfied he had gotten the exclusive coverage. It wasn’t until a couple days later that Buck realized the full reach of that particular interview.

Someone was knocking on the door to his apartment.

He sighed, zipping up the backpack he had just finished packing and left it on the counter to go answer the door. It was probably just some reporters, he thought, wanting to get him to answer another interview. Buck already had the prepared answer on his tongue when he swung open the door, the words dying in his throat when he saw who was standing there.

“Hello, Evan.”

His parents.

“Oh, sweetie,” his mother tutted, her brown eyes, the same eyes as Maddie’s, full of concern. “Your hurt.” her hands reached up towards his face, where the cuts across his forehead and cheek were still healing, and he flinched away from her touch.

It’s not real. it’s not real. It’s not real. He reminded himself, forcing breath in and out of his lungs as the grip on his doorknob tightened until his fingers were turning white. “W-Why are you here?” he rasped, trying not to wince at the shakiness of his voice. “How did you find me?”

His mother frowned the concerned look on her face hardening into something else—something not as friendly. “Evan, dear, we were worried about you. You got caught in a tsunami!” she exclaimed, tears pooling in her eyes. “No calls, nothing!”

“You made your mother very worried, Evan.” his father added, his dark eyes just as disappointed and cold as he remembered them, from that day, when he—

“Buck?”

Buck felt himself release a shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he felt Eddie’s hand run down his back and slip around his waist as he walked up behind him. “Is everything alright?” he asked, voice wary against Buck’s ear.

“And who exactly are you?” his mother asked, sounding slightly offended and eyeing Eddie’s hand around his waist with obvious distaste.

“I’m Eddie, his boyfriend,” Eddie answered, a hard edge to his tone. “Though I’m not sure why it matters to you.”

“Young man, I’ll have you know we are his parents.” Buck’s mother scoffed, sounding aghast. “Show some respect.”

His father wasn’t listening anymore at that point. As soon as he heard the word ‘boyfriend’, Buck saw his eyes darken dangerously and his hand clench at his side. “Boy, you’re still a fucking nancy? I guess I didn’t beat that shit out of you well enough before—” Buck saw his hand raise in the air and he instinctively flinched backward against Eddie’s side and his body tensed, waiting for the blow to strike and pain to blossom across his face.

But it didn’t.

Eddie stepped forward, his body positioned protectively in front of Buck and his right hand holding his father’s arm in a vice grip. “If you ever try to lay a hand on Buck or threaten him again I will have you arrested and thrown into the deepest pits of LA’s finest jail where I guarantee you will never see the light of day again.”

“You bastard—” Buck’s father snarled, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire that used to make Buck run and hide in his closet when he saw it. But Eddie didn’t even flinch, staring his father down, a dark note to his voice when he cut him off. “Leave. Now, or I will call the cops, and you will be arrested for trespassing and harassment.”

“Well, I never!” his mother made an affronted noise, giving Buck a look of disappointment before she turned to her husband. “Come on, dear. It’s obvious he doesn’t care about our concern for him. Let’s go.”

His father slung a couple insults over his shoulder as he wrenched his arm from Eddie’s grasp and was guided away down the hall by his mother. Eddie quickly shut the door to the apartment and then turned and faced Buck, his face full of concern and worry. “Buck? Sweetie, are you alright?”

Buck was still feeling shell-shocked, his mess of emotions about seeing his parents again momentarily overshadowed by awe. “Y-You stopped him.” he breathed, feeling the burn of tears beginning in his eyes.

Eddie’s gaze immediately softened and he wrapped his arms around Buck tightly, one hand rising up to comfortingly run through his curls. “Of course, querido.” he murmured thickly, his breath warm against Buck’s ear. “I will never let anyone lay a finger on you.”

His breath hitched slightly as he pressed his face against Eddie’s shoulder, hot tears dripping down his face and soaking into the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Why are they here?” he cried his grip tight around Eddie’s waist. “After all these years, why’d they show up? How did they find me?”

“I don’t know, Buck, I don’t know.” Eddie murmured quietly, continuing to run his hand through Buck’s curls.

He could feel himself shaking as Eddie held him, the panic and terror still constricting his lungs and making it hard to get a deep breath in. He didn’t know why they really came—he knew the concern was absolute bullshit. He had no idea how they had even figured out where he lived. He felt his breaths quicken at the realization that if they knew where he lived, then they probably knew where he worked, and if they showed up at work—

“Hey, hey, Buck, sweetheart, look at me.” Eddie’s hands were suddenly on his cheeks, raising his head and forcing him to look him in the eye. “Deep breaths, just like me. You’re safe. They’re gone, okay? They’re never going to hurt you again.”

“Work.” Buck managed to get out between shuddering breaths, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t— the very possibility of his parents showing up at work, hurting him, hurting his friends—Bobby—

“Buck, you need to calm down, okay? They’re not going to hurt anyone and they’re not going to show up at work.” Eddie soothed, running his finger over Buck’s cheekbone. “Do you want me to call Bobby and Athena?”

“Yeah,” Buck admitted after a long moment, feeling slightly more calm as he took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Eddie said softly, pressing a kiss against Buck’s forehead and gently leading him over to the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, pressing another kiss against Buck’s cheek before he hurried off to grab his phone.

Buck buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths in an effort not to burst into tears again. It was—jarring, to open that door and see his parents on the other side. He thought he had escaped them years ago. He was certain he covered his tracks well enough that they would never be able to track him down. If Eddie hadn’t been here…

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, seeing his boyfriend standing in front of him with the phone outstretched in his hand towards him and a worried frown on his face. “Bobby’s on the phone.”

“Hey, Bobby,” Buck answered as he took the phone, his voice a little wobbly. He leaned against Eddie’s side when he sat down next to him, seeking comfort in his presence.

“Hey, kid,” Bobby greeted him, his voice warm and concerned. “Eddie told us what happened. You doing alright?”

“Not really,” Buck admitted, blinking back a few more tears that welled up in his eyes.

“Oh, Buckaroo,” Bobby said softly, and Buck had to close his eyes at the overwhelming feeling of love he felt from just those two words. “I’m sorry they sprung up on you like that, Buck.”

“I’m worried they’ll try and show up at work—or Maddie’s.”

“They won’t be showing up anywhere near the firehouse, Athena’s already made that promise. And she’s calling Maddie right now to let her know what happened,” he reassured him before his voice grew serious. “Buck, did they hurt you?”

Bobby was the only one aside from Athena and Maddie who knew about his past. Who knew about his parents, the horrible things they had done (even if he was just now realizing to the extent how horrible it was). “No. Eddie stopped him, before—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“But he tried?” Bobby asked, his voice growing tenser.

“Yes,” Buck said quietly after a moment.

Bobby muttered something under his breath before he spoke calmly, “Athena is insisting we come over to do a sweep of the place, to make sure they’re gone. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” Buck bit back a smile, some of the ache disappearing from his chest as he spoke with his pseudo-father figure. “I’d like that, actually.”

“Okay, we’ll be—Athena, no, Ath—” Bobby’s voice grew muffled for a second, before he rushed to say into the phone. “Athena wait!”

Buck covered his mouth to stifle a laugh as the line cut off, only able to imagine exactly what was going on that caused that reaction. He felt a little lighter, comforted in the reminder that he did have two parental figures in his life who cared for him like he was their son—ones he knew would die before they ever lifted a finger towards their own kids.

“Feeling better?” Eddie murmured, pressing a soft kiss against Buck’s cheek.

“Yeah.” he breathed out, pressing his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “I’m sorry—” he started, but Eddie cut him off before he could finish.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for and you don’t have to talk about anything right now,” Eddie told him firmly, running his hand comfortingly down his back. “How about we go lay in bed and watch bad television for a while until they get here?”

“Yeah,” Buck said softly, turning his face up and kissing Eddie softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Sometimes Buck just needed a little reminder that love and family was something he got to choose now—and it was something he deserved.

#911 #911 fox #911 au #evan buckley #buck #eddie diaz #buddie #tw: child abuse #this really got away from me #it wasn't supposed to be this long #but i couldn't stop writing #bucks parents suck #cait chats

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imyourplusone · 5 years ago

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Lizzington Week // Day 1// One-shot Ao3

~Spark ~

“You asked a very important question that night in Montreal. You could ask me again.”

He swallows and replays their conversation in his mind, not for the first time since they shared a cocktail and he found himself falling.

“Why would I do that?”

“Lizzy! This is a…”

“Surprise?” she asks in amusement and takes a seat next to him on the bench. “Or are you wondering how I knew where to find you?”

His smile at seeing her had quickly turned to confusion, realizing there was no earthly reason for her showing up out of the blue. Especially since Dembe is still at the safehouse and has no idea of his ramblings this morning.

“It has suddenly crossed my mind.”

“I’m a profiler, Raymond.”

He watches her a moment as she turns her face up and closes her eyes to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees overhead.

“Care to expand on that?”

“Today is the day.”

For what he has no idea, but he could conjure a thousand of them in his mind that include her next to him. Something he has vast experience with after all this time. The days of exploring new landscapes or visiting old haunts without imagining her there, wanting her there, are long over.

“You didn’t slip a tracking device into my pocket did you?”

“Not this time,” which earns her a chuckle and she turns back smiling. “Don’t you feel it?”

He feels everything at once, which is always the way with her, and can only shake his head. “You really will have to be more specific.”

“It finally feels like fall. There’s a bite in the air today.”

“Yes, there is,” he says quietly. Watching. Waiting.

“And I know it’s your favorite season and that you always roam about on that first day of autumn.”

But how would she know? He’s always alone on these crisp mornings when he gets a little lost, enjoying the freedom before winter sets in.

“Contrary to what you may think,” she continues, seeing the question in his eyes. “I do listen to your stories and saw the pattern emerge.”

There is no recollection of it, the clues that led her to this park on this day, but she somehow collected them and chose this morning to test her theory. And judging by the satisfied smile lighting up her face, she is quite pleased with herself. As she should be.

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

It’s almost like the wind is waiting for her answer, as well. Suddenly it is impossibly quiet while he waits, tilting his head ever so slightly to study her.

“Because I didn’t want to be cooped up in the Post Office when I could be walking along the river with you.”

And that’s all the answer he will get as she stands rather abruptly and makes a point to zip her jacket for longer than necessary.

He will wonder about it, of course, but not right now. Now they will continue on his course toward the water, a route he hadn’t really been aware of until she mentioned it. But he is more than aware of other things. There is the pressure of her hand that eventually slips through his arm and the flush that occasionally rises in her face…..that must be from the chill in the air and the wind that has returned to whip about them as they walk.

….

“I hope you like popcorn.”

“Lizzy, what….”

“...am I doing here?” she asks when he stops, eyes narrowing, as she plops down in the seat beside him. “I came for the movie. Here, hold my stuff.”

The popcorn is handed over, and a drink along with candy and more candy, until her hands are free to remove her jacked and get comfortable.

“Dare I ask how you knew where I’d be at this particular moment?”

“Raymond, we’ve already been through this routine. You see, I’m a profiler.”

“You could humor me this once.”

It makes her laugh and she explains, while reclaiming her purchases from the snack bar. “Well, you are appallingly clueless about current television or film, but have an affinity for the classics. Would you like some of my M&M’s?”

“Perhaps later. Go on.”

“There’s not much to tell. You were reading the paper and something made you smile, which turned out to be the announcement for this theater’s classic movie day. However, knowing you wouldn’t want to come at the regular showing, I figured you’d make a deal with the manager and here we are, nine in the morning on a Tuesday, ready to watch North By Northwest.”

There it is. A clue within the story. What she left out, but what he sees so clearly. She wanted to know what caught his attention, made him smile. She must have found the paper, the exact page, and searched it out until she came across the notice. She was curious and so is he. More than curious. He is fascinated.

He is also a little speechless to say the least, actually he’s thoroughly speechless which causes her to hesitate and the furrow on her brow is there before he can reassure her.

“Perhaps I should have-”

“Did you get butter on the popcorn?” he asks quickly, by way of reassurance.

Her worry goes as quickly as it came and she relaxes back with a grin. “What kind of question is that?”

“I take it back.”

“Hey, you know there’s a mysterious Mr. Kaplan in this movie. That’s a curious coincidence don’t you think?”

“Is it?” he asks with a mysterious smile of his own. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Kaplan about that some time.”

“I just might if I ever get the nerve up,” she mutters, making him chuckle at her honesty.

She leans into him long enough for him to know it’s not by accident just as the lights dim and Hitchcock’s classic springs to life. They’ve seen it before, but never like this. Alone and closed off from the world, even for a short while. Together. It’s difficult to ignore the charge running between them that sparks their awareness of the other. The nearness of their hands and if only one of them would reach out....

But not yet.

Not with their nervous energy as they wonder at these strange turning of events. Ones that she has turned to her liking. And his. Where it will lead them, they can’t possibly know. The answer remains elusive, especially when they are distracted by the two improbable lovers on screen, hiding amidst the monuments of granite, searching for any mode of escape.

Not unlike themselves.

…..

It’s becoming a habit.

Quite unexpected in a way that he now anticipates, looks forward to that sudden thrill when she materializes at his side or endures the disappointment when his solitude goes uninterrupted. There are times he forgets to ask the how or why of it until much later, for it is so natural, so incredibly easy to share these small nothings with her that now seem anything but small.

It is also easy to reciprocate.

“It’s getting late, Agent Keen, and the case, as they say, is closed.”

She sits up with a jolt at her desk and flinches as the muscles in her neck complain at the sudden movement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I ask myself that question on a regular basis and I assure you the answer is always the same.” He walks the rest of the way inside her office and drops into a chair, his fedora coming to rest on a knee. “You.”

The scowl is gone, replaced by something in her eyes he would not dare to name, something he wants to hold close for fear of losing it.

“I’m okay.”

That may be, but it was a disturbing case, the kind that will linger and rob them of sleep. The kind that makes this most difficult of jobs worth doing.

“I know you are, LIzzy,” he murmurs. “But I find myself a little out of sorts tonight and could use the company.

“And Dembe isn’t company?”

The trace of teasing in her voice makes him smile and he returns it in kind. “He’s gone off to BINGO with Mr. Brimley.”

She rolls her eyes and closes the file she has been reading, setting it firmly aside. At least for tonight. This is what they need, the solace they always seem able to find when it is only them. It is later, after dinner, when they are strolling about the neighborhood that she takes his arm and gives him a little pull.

“Where are you taking me?”

“There’s an ice cream place up ahead. If we hurry, we can get a scoop before they close.”

He makes no argument at either the prospect of ice cream or the pleasure of her company for awhile longer. Perhaps that is the reason for her suggestion, not wanting the evening to draw to a close.

But there goes his mind again, running away with him as his thoughts tangle in a knot. That is, until they enter the shop and he stops in his tracks, looking around and then back to where she is watching him.

“Remind you of anything?” she asks with a smile.

“Yes, I’d say so.”

If he didn’t know better he’d swear they were in the little bistro in Montreal. From the tiled walls and checkered pattern on the floor, antique mirrors and even the golden hue of the lighting.

“How long have you known about this place?”

“A few months. I was waiting for the right time to bring you here.”

God the way she can make his head spin and he says nothing more until they have their scoops in hand and take a seat at one of the small tables.

“You could ask me again, Raymond.”

The spoon stops halfway to his mouth and slowly makes a return trip to his bowl. “I don’t understand.”

“You asked a very important question that night in Montreal. You could ask me again.”

He swallows and replays their conversation in his mind, not for the first time since they shared a cocktail and he found himself falling.

“Why would I do that?”

Her words from that long ago night that he borrows, whispering them as she did then, and sees her smile ever so briefly.

“Ask me.”

“Tell me my profile, Elizabeth.”

As complicated as their lives have become, how treacherous the path that has led them here, but how simple it is to tell him.

“You’re a loner. You keep your distance,” she says, drawing from her first impressions of him, only now there is infinitely more. “Except with those you hold dear. Except with me.”

“Lizzy….”

“Even now, you long to hear it, but are afraid of the words you can’t possibly make yourself believe are real.”

He will never be able to ask what they are. He will never have to.

“I love you. That’s what I want you to know.”

Words that would have been impossible to believe in Montreal, but settle in his soul in an ice cream shop in DC. There are words of his own that he has held onto so tightly until this very moment.

“I-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but the shop is closing.”

The kid behind the counter gives them an apologetic shrug and Raymond laughs out loud. “That is excellent news.”

With a flurry, he drops a rather large tip on the table and takes her hand, leading her back onto the quiet sidewalk.

“Things do seem to have a way of interrupting us,” she comments rather dryly.

“Not this time.”

Not ever again if they have anything to say about it, but they will think about that later. It is all a blur when his hands cup her face and he kisses her as he has wanted for a very long time. As they have both wanted, time and again, but it took a little turn and twist of fate to close the circle.

“I love you,” he whispers, when they finally pull back.

“I know,” as her arms reach up to link behind his neck, waiting for his hands to drop to the small of her back, drawing her in closer. Just as she knew they would. “I’m a profiler, after all.”

#lizzingtonweek #Lizzington #the episode or scene that made you start shipping #the freelancer of course and the whispering and the profiling and on and on #aka that life ruining moment #one shot #fic #mine #a little late but finally a smidge of inspiration struck #Mr Kaplan meet Mr Kaplan from whence you were named #do me a solid and ignore all the mistakes #thanks and carry on

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bree-sasbdb · 4 years ago

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Confronting Marsden

The evening following my trip home I woke up and thought about everything that I had found in the house and it pissed me off that Marsden had the nerve to mess with things inside my home. He had no right to even be there without me present. He had some balls to think that I wouldn’t return to the house because he forbade me from going without him. It was my house and I would go there any damn time I wanted. I took a quick shower, did my make-up and hair then I went to my closet. I picked out a pair of black jeggings and a nice lavender top as well as my black knee-high heeled boots. As I got dressed I decided that I needed to confront him about this and let him know that he needed to return the missing items to me by tomorrow. I really needed to go to the location where I knew the King held audiences and settled grievances to find out how to get an audience with the King to resolve this matter once and for all. I was done with Marsden’s bullshit and if he thought he could play me he had another thing coming.

Just as I was zipping up my boot Kiehran woke up. I walked to his room with Jax and Mia right on my heels. As I walked into his room he looked over and started smiling. I said, “Good morning little man” as I picked him up smiling. He laid his head on my shoulder as we walked to his dresser and I picked out an outfit for him before I took him to the changing table to get him dressed. I started to calm down some as we played to keep him entertained while I changed and dressed him. Once he was dressed we went upstairs. Nerville let the dogs out again as it wasn’t quite dark enough for me yet. I put Kiehran in his high chair and went about making his cereal and bottle. I grabbed a jar of banana baby food on my way to the island counter to feed him. Hafwen and I started talking and when Nerville returned he joined us. I told them that I planned on going to Marsden’s house to confront him about what I found. They both were scared for me because they knew the type of man he was. I was just thankful that he couldn’t get into any of the bank accounts without my consent.

After first meal I got my purse, phone, and keys then gave Kiehran a kiss on the head. Luckily he was having a good day so far. As I was getting ready to leave Nerville stopped me and asked if I would allow him to drive me just in case I wasn’t able to drive. He also said that he thought it would be a good idea for me to let someone, perhaps Joshanah’s father, Batair, know where I was going. At first I didn’t think I needed to but I realized that Marsden wasn’t trustworthy and if he could he wouldn’t let me leave the house. I gave Batair a call and I told him what I was doing. He wanted to come with me but I told him that I needed to do this on my own. He didn’t like it but he understood. He told me to call him when it was finished so that he’d know I was alright. I told him that I would. Nerville and I were just about to leave when Hafwen came back to us and said that I had a package. She handed me a padded manila envelope. I opened it up and looked inside before dumping out its contents. It was a USB drive and a note from the manager I had spoken with telling me that all records of my call had been erased. I had gone onto the secured website and downloaded the files but I was glad to have a back-up copy. I told Hafwen to burn the note and at least the address information of the envelope, just in case. I told them that at this point I wouldn’t put anything past Marsden.

As Nerville and I drove to Marsden house I started to get angrier and angrier the closer we got. I went over everything that he had said to me after the funeral and reading of the wills trying to see if I had somehow missed anything. When we got Marsden’s house they were surprised by our visit as I hadn’t called ahead of time to let him know I was coming, they let us through the gate. As we drove up to the house I told Nerville that I wanted him to stay outside by the car just in case anything happened. He tried to argue but I told him that I appreciated his wanting to be inside with me but I really needed him to stay with the car. He finally relented and when we got to the house he stayed with the car as I went up to the door. A Doggen answered the door immediately, he showed me to the parlor as he said that Marsden was in a meeting and would be with me soon. When we got to the parlor I pretended to be willing to wait however I wasn’t going to. As soon as the Doggen left me alone I left the parlor and walked straight for his office.

As I opened the door a crack I stopped because I heard Marsden start talking about me. He said that he was going to do everything in his power to leave me with no choice but to marry his son Trahern no matter what it took. Several males agreed with him and I thought, not a chance in hell that would ever happen. I had heard enough so I pushed the door open and walked in heading directly for him at his desk. With only the desk separating us I said, “I know what you’re doing at my house Marsden and I’m telling you that the shit stops now”. He said “I’m just taking stock of items in the house. I have to protect it for you, after all.” I said, “I’ve already done that so there is no reason for you to be at the house. It states in the will that you are to watch over the estate. You do not have any rights to anything in the house or on the grounds. Furthermore you can’t do anything without my consent. You’re just a fucking caretaker Marsden, nothing more. Yesterday I had all the locks changed and I went to another security firm. They installed a new security system and I’m the only one who has the access codes and keys to the house so if for some reason you need to go to the house you need to notify me and I will make arrangements but there is no reason for you to be at the house. You have twenty-four hours to return the items that have been taken from the house or I will take this and any other grievances I have up with the King.” He said “I was only trying to help and that he didn’t want me to have to worry about anything…” I interrupted him and said, “You’re full of shit and I know you have ulterior motives but you seriously fucked with the wrong bitch. Unlike your daughter I wasn’t raised to be a doormat and I’m not afraid of you but I guarantee that if you fuck with me I will fuck your world up!” I turned to leave and saw the three gentlemales he had been talking to, one of which winked at me. He was a very large male that had blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders, he was wearing an Armani black pinstripe suit with a purple tie and handkerchief as well as Ferragamo leather dress shoes, however, he looked like he was more at home in leathers and shitkickers. As I reached the door I turned partially and said “Twenty-four hours Marsden. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me!” I walked out and I wasn’t far from the door when I heard one of the males say, “Damn now that’s a female right there. She may be small but she is fierce. Man what a lewlhen.” I then heard Marsden say, “She’s not for you so back off, Kontar.” I was pretty sure it was the male who winked at me. I continued walking not seeing a soul until I got to the parlor, Trahern and the doggen were there. I started to walk past them but Trahern blocked my path. I told him to move but he refused and when I tried to get around him he grabbed me. I shoved him off me and said, “Not today Trahern! I’m not in the mood for your bullshit!” He laughed and said, “What can you do about it?” I tried again to get past him and he grabbed me again this time he held me against his chest with my arms trapped between us thinking that I couldn’t do anything to him, boy was he wrong and just as his father and the males he was with came down the hallway I kneed Trahern in the groin as he yelped and let go of me I punched him in the face then I hit him with a spin kick to the face, which put him down. I walked past him and said, “If you ever touch me again Trahern I will cut your dick off. Than where would you be if you couldn’t rape anymore women.” The male who had winked at me started to laugh and said, “She is straight fire.” His was the voice I heard. Trahern called me a fucking bitch and I turned around, got right in his face and said “No I’m The Bitch!” before turning back around and walking out the front door, slamming it as I went. Nerville was right there when I walked out, neither of us said anything. He just opened the door for me then hurried around, got in the car and drove us home. I called Batair and let him know I was alright and heading home. He asked about what happened and I told him that I would tell him later. After hanging up, I stared out the window all the way home getting my anger under control.

#ConfrontingMarsden

#UnmaskingTheVillian

#Part7

#SASBDB

#BDB

#SaintsNSinners

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itschimmychimchims · 6 years ago

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Etched Pt. 5

♡ jimin x reader

♡ smut, mafia!au

♡ smut, shower sex, dirty talk (i tried, not very good, but i tried), slight fluff

—

Jimin takes you to the ball, but first... you two need to get ready. And by get ready, Jimin has special plans.

—

The next week was a lot less boring as I helped Jimin with some filing. It took up quite a bit of my time, and the rest I spent getting the maids to let me grow a pot of my own flowers. When Jimin heard from the maids, he would stop by to watch. I’d never grown plants, I just wanted to try. The maids had helped me secure a batch of violet seeds and also some strawberry seeds, though I swear I heard one of them say even though those were easy, they doubted my green-finger prowess. I started with the strawberry but I’d overwatered them, making everyone burst into laughter at my sodden pot.

“I know you like water but plants need it in moderation too.” Jimin chuckled, looking at my failed watery flowerpot. I scoffed and mumbled to myself, leaving the garden and an amused Jimin behind. I indignantly planted my violet seeds and was determined not to bring a tsunami upon them that time around. The maids did show me how it was done, and taught me how to gauge the water levels.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” I cried out as they chuckled.

“Young Master told us not to.”

On the day of the President’s Ball, Jimin spent the whole day at home getting his preparations ready. There were several men that came in and out of his study, walking past me - some gave me curious looks - when I was sitting in the dining room reading and eating some cookies I had baked the day before.

“Y/N.” Jimin called from his study. I looked up from my book and headed to where he was.

“You called?” I said, peeking from behind the door frame. He smiled at me and asked me to come closer. I went to stand beside his plush chair and he pulled me into his lap, ruffling his silver hair.

“I just wanted to see your face.” He said, making my heart thump almost painfully fast in my chest. He laughs as he sees me blush.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” I chided.

“Actually...I wanted to take a bath before the ball later.” He says, pulling my chin close to kiss me. “Join me?” His kiss deepens as he keeps his grip on my waist. I nod breathlessly as his lips linger on my chin, waiting for my answer. Somehow the look in his eyes was more than just lust. And somehow... I couldn’t say no. Was I really Stockholm Syndrome’d or something? It didn’t feel like I was forced, instead I always felt like he and I fit together from the very start. Deep down, from everything he did, I somehow knew he would never hurt me.

We proceeded to Jimin’s private bathroom in his office. We swiftly removed our clothes and found our way to the showers, lips locked on each another. The shower was turned on and I was slightly jolted by the cold, but it soon turned warm, splashing on my bare back. Jimin’s hair slowly darkened with moisture as he continued to kiss me. Pushing me against the cold grey-tiled walls, he gripped my wrists, pinning them down and continued with his assault of my neck with his lips.

“Jimin, ah-“ I gasped as I felt his fingers slip inside of me, his movements fluid and precise, almost as if he were in a rush.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, princess.” He murmured, and I could barely hear him above the sounds of splashing water. He hitched my leg up onto his waist to get better access and grunted as he felt how aroused I was.

“You’re mine.” He growled, lifting me to wrap both my legs around his hips, easing his member inside me. He let out a shaky breath as he pushed me harder onto the cold wall. My insides were burning, but my skin was ice cold on the wall behind me, with the occasional splash of warm water from the shower. Jimin recovered from the sensation first, making his first thrust into me. I gasped, snapping out of my hazy subconscious once I felt the sharp hits of euphoria course through my veins.

I marvelled at his physique. It must be tiring to keep me at this angle but he managed to furiously pump into me making it seem effortless. I let out a moan as he finally bottomed out inside me.

“Keep making those sounds baby, you sound so sexy like that.” He kept praising me, spurring my loud cries of ecstasy. “I love your voice when you’re screaming my name.”

“Put me down Jimin, you must be tired.” I try to say coherently, my fingers resting on his supple cheek. He smiled, kissing my palm.

“I’d do anything for you, this is nothing. Let me fuck you good, baby.” He snarled out the last sentence, making me whimper in need. I was so close, with him talking to me like that.

“Do you like me talking like that, princess?” He huffed, growing increasingly erratic in his pace. “You take my dick so good, baby.” His words lit up a huge bonfire somewhere deep inside me, its flames burning up all of me. I was scorched inside out. And that burn was Jimin himself.

“That’s right baby, let me make you cum. I love your face when I fuck you, show me how good I make you feel, Princess.” He moans, sucking every crevice he could reach on my neck.

“Ah Jimin... I’m going to cum-“ I cry out, releasing with a string of his name and profanities leaving my lips, along with shuddery breaths. He smiles, looking at me come undone at his words and his movements. He carried on until I came down from my high, then let me down slowly, keeping his hold around my waist to keep me steady. His forehead touched mine as we let the water consume our bodies for a few moments, our breaths mingling with wet droplets, lips barely touching.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders, kissing him in hopes he could feel how much I wanted him. I continued my kisses down his torso and finally his abdomen, stopping short of his throbbing shaft, kneeling down. He sighed in contentment as I wrapped my fingers around the length, making slow strokes.

“As much I love what your hands do to me, I want your pretty lips around me now, baby.” Jimin moaned, touching my cheek. I wordlessly complied, but started sucking at the base of his member, making him shudder and throw his head back, tangling a few locks of my hair gently in between his fingers. I licked slowly upwards and engulfed the tip, sucking hard.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Princess.” Jimin grunted, and I noticed he was trying very hard not to buck his hips into my mouth. I stopped for a while while staring at him and opened my mouth.

“You can jerk into me.” I told him simply and his eyes darkened, and he clenched his teeth together.

“Don’t regret what you said, baby.” He says, tightening his hold on my hair. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.” I reply, letting Jimin ease his whole length into my mouth, and I earned a satisfied moan.

“Fuck.” He said then started to thrust into me. He leaned against the wall behind me for more support as he thrust relentlessly at the back of my throat until I could feel myself to tear up. It didn’t hurt but I had to try and control my gagging. I occasionally swallowed around him, making his abs clench.

“Your fucking sinful mouth is going to make me cum baby. So fucking beautiful.” Jimin hisses, coming close to his edge. I gave his balls some attention, squeezing them and massaging them, effectively sending him over the edge and into euphoria.

“Fuck I’m cumming-“ He cried out as he came hard onto my tongue, where some of fell on my lips and chin. I continued to pump his member till he touched my hand motioning for me to stop, lifting me to my feet.

“So messy, but so fucking pretty.” Jimin chuckled, kissing me even with his arousal still on me. He licked away all of the stray spills on my chin and lips, keeping his hands around my waist. Once he was done, he kissed me gently on the lips, letting his quivering lips linger on mine.

“Now let’s shower for real.” He said, laughing. I chuckle and nod.

Jimin exits the shower first, wearing only a towel around his hips. He looked so bare, so simple and so raw and he still looked like a perfectly sculpted artefact - not to be touched by anyone.

I finished up and left the shower after slipping on a robe and drying my wet hair. Back at the bedroom, I found a half dressed Jimin holding a white lace dress. I remembered then that he said he had chosen a dress for me.

“I want to see you wear this.” He smiled, passing me the dress. I slipped my robe off, earning a huff from Jimin, but he stayed where he was, only smiling at my bare body. Jimin helped me to zip the dress fully and when I looked in the mirror, I was stunned. It fit me perfectly. It was an off shoulder dress with straps of lace, connected to a tight-fitting lace bodice that stopped at the waist. Then it was pure white fabric with a conservative slit that only went to just below my knee. Even without makeup or jewellery, the dress was already perfect. But the thing that intrigued me the most was that Jimin was able to pick something so perfectly, as if he knew exactly what to get.

“How do you like it, Princess?” He asked, standing behind me, planting a kiss on my exposed shoulders. “You look beautiful.” He seemed to mean it.

“It’s... perfect.” I say a bit breathlessly. I stopped myself from asking how he managed to find such a dress. “Thank you.”

“I feel like a sugar baby.” I admit, laughing a little. Jimin matched my laughter.

“Well, I don’t mind the titles, I just need you.” He chuckles. There he goes again with his sweet words that shook me. I had no idea if he really meant what he said, or he’s just a really good captor and I was falling for his charms, playing right into his hand as an obedient kidnapped puppy.

“Don’t say those things like you mean them.” I say, a little frustration in my tone. “I’ll be good even if you don’t say them.” Jimin looks up and stares at my reflection in the mirror with an undecipherable emotion lingering in his eyes. He doesn’t respond to my words, but simply tells me the maids are waiting to do my makeup and hair, leaving the room to get ready as well, planting a kiss on my shoulder before he left. It confused me even more as Jimin constantly avoided topics that had me involved.

The maids worked swiftly and once they were done, they let me admire my reflection in the mirror.

“How envious to be such a natural beauty.” One of the maids, Nana, cried. “Master is truly such a lucky man.”

“I mean, of course he’s lucky, she was his first-“ The other maid, Joo, said but was hushed by Nana. Both of them shared a look then bowed to me, leaving the room before I could ask any questions. Now I was curious. I was his first... what?

I left the room and went downstairs to find Jimin waiting for me at the door. He was dressed in a beige suit and a dark grey tie that matched his silver hair. He had a golden broach pinned onto his lapel - as if he wasn’t stunning enough. His fingers were bare save for a single silver ring with a white stone set in it.

“Wow.” He smiled as I made my way to stand in front of him. My makeup wasn’t very much, they kept it natural, but my hair was styled in waves compared to my naturally straight locks.

“You look... breathtaking.” I blushed from his his intense stare.

“I think you look better than me.” I mumble, not noticing Jimin had crept up behind me. I felt something cold around my neck and I jumped a little.

“Something to make you shine even more than you already do.” Funny how I’d just thought the same about him. It was a choker, and I let my fingers run across it. It seemed to be studded with countless little gems.

“They’re clear diamonds. 128 of them to be exact.” Jimin explained nonchantly like it was nothing. I just stared at him and he just chuckled.

The maids passed us our coats and we finally stepped outside to get to the ball. A part of me felt that I would have a rather eventful night, because I was very sure Jimin had only one intention that night. And that was to flaunt to my father that he had me wrapped around his little finger. The thing was... even if I saw my father, I didn’t know who I would choose. And that itself was a dangerous thought.

#jimin #park jimin #pjm #jimin smut #smut #bts #bts smut #bts jimin #park jimin smut #bangtan #mafia au #mafia bts #mafia jimin

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imagine-loki · 6 years ago

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Loki and the Minion

TITLE: Loki and the Minion

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter-3

AUTHOR: latent-thoughts ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki hiring you as his manager while he slowly takes over Midgard again. You are to manage his PR, his daily schedule, and you also are his guide to everything Midgardian. He doesn’t make it easy for you, though. He causes trouble, doesn’t listen to your advice very often, and in general, annoys and intimidates you. He is the God of Mischief after all, and you are the nearest target available to him. You suffer through his antics because he pays well and also, you don’t know what might befall you if you refuse him. He is kinda scary after all.

RATING: T for now, will definitely change later.

NOTES/WARNINGS: None

A/N: I’m pretty sure no one even remembers this fic but I feel glad to be writing it again. Forgive the delay.

_________________________

“Several countries have called for an urgent UN meet in the aftermath of Loki’s return and declaration…”

“….meetings are being held by various establishment agencies over this new and unexpected development…”

“People are calling for the Avengers to strike, but it’s hardly an easy task, especially when he is incognito…”

“Loki has declared that he is here to help. Should we give him a chance?”

“In the released video Loki claims that he was brainwashed into attacking earth. Could there be truth to his words?”

“Contact with Asgard has not been established. It is difficult to discern the facts correctly.”

“Reports have been leaked of a statement by Thor which reveals him saying that Loki was, in fact, not himself during the attack of New York. This lends credence to Loki’s version of the events.”

‘Reports of a leak from SHIELD files reveals mistreatment of Loki…”

“Was Loki not allowed to tell his side of the story?”

“…is an unfair way to handle the situation, if indeed he is telling the truth…”

“Yes, but under whose influence was he?”

“…Asking the relevant question here—who compelled Loki to attack Earth?”

Loki sat regally in Elsa’s living room, occupying almost the whole of the three-seater sofa. He was listening to the news feeds quite intently, often telling her to switch channels.

She did as he ordered, now that he was her boss. Also, she was eager to see how he reacted to her handiwork, and hence, very keen to show him how the world was reacting to his recent public statement.

It hadn’t been easy. She had left her job at Stark’s in a hurry, citing very bullshit reasons for it. There really had been no time at all to prepare for the new job, with Loki wanting her to immediately come up with a good action plan towards mending his public image.

Though, she had wanted to tell him that simply being a good person and doing good things for others would do it… she hadn’t wanted to take the risk of getting fired this early in her stint.

The public image mending was something that he had been very particular about, and so, she used whatever was in her arsenal to deliver him the goods. That had required some bending backwards, but she had used her contacts in the media to deliver his message to them in the form of a video recording.

The recording had featured Loki looking quite repentant and also, like a victim of circumstances. Honestly, he had been so convincing in it that she had wondered if he had been a part of the royal drama club on Asgard.

“Your suggestion seems to have worked,” he remarked, giving her a shrewd look of contemplation.

“Yeah…” She pried her gaze from his, feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny.

“I knew I was making the right gamble with you. You shall help me greatly in my endeavor.”

She muted the TV and gave him her full attention. “What exactly is your endeavor?”

“Helping your pathetic race become less pathetic.”

Well, that wasn’t condescending at all…

“Do you, like, seriously want to help us?”

“Is that so hard to imagine?”

“No…” she backtracked, “I just… wonder how.”

“How I shall help?”

She nodded.

“I am well versed in all the manner of magic and technology of the nine realms. I have more knowledge than any of your mortal scholars of cosmos, science and the ilk.”

“Scientists you mean?”

He nodded. “I have delved into many fields of study, as well as performed fact resolution on topics which often invited strife.”

Elsa stared at him with the wonder of a new discovery. “So, you’re basically a nerd?”

Loki narrowed his eyes sharply, and she realized that she may have overstepped her boundaries.

“I’m a scholar, a warrior, a sorcerer, not to mention, an innovator and a strategist. I’m not sure your realm has a term to define me.”

She stared at him kind of disbelievingly. “I don’t know… I’ll have to look it up. Is everyone from Asgard like that… like you?”

Loki snorted at that, but still looked elegant doing it. ”No, not at all.”

She paid close attention to his face then. It seemed to hold a vulnerability to it then, that he usually didn’t possess.

“Is that why you were… kind of cast out? Like you said in your video?”

The nebulous vulnerable expression vanished from his face then, replaced by the usual menacing stare.

“I wasn’t cast out. I was betrayed,” he said evenly, and his tone suggested that she would do well to leave the matter alone then and there only.

“I see. Then you landed in the arms of the wrong people, right? That guy, Thanos…” She knew she was kind of poking the bear, but still… she was curious. And he had appeared to be in a merry mood.

“Arms would be an exaggeration of the highest order.” He turned his attention back to the TV. “But yes, I did explain it in my speech. The one you circulated.”

She nodded, instinctively realizing that he was not going to explain it further.

“If you want to talk about it—like, I know such a thing could be traumatic—then, I’m here to listen.” She wasn’t sure why she made that offer, but it seemed appropriate to do so.

Loki hummed in response but didn’t react otherwise.

Oh well, she tried.

———————————————————————

“What is the meaning of this?” Loki regarded the hoodie Elsa was holding out to him with pure disdain, not even touching it, let alone taking it from her.

“Just, please wear it. It’s very comfortable.”

Loki gave her a glare that had her wishing that she hadn’t suggested the little do-gooder jaunt. “I care not about comfort. I cannot look like a mortal beggar while on this errand.”

Elsa bit her lip as she tried not to make a snarky counter-argument about clothes and comfort. “It’s for blending into your environment. You cannot be obvious while doing this thing.”

He tilted his head, looking truly confused, not to mention, progressively more annoyed. “I thought that the point of this foolish endeavor was to make me look ‘good’? If no one is able to recognize me while I do it, then pray tell, what is the point of doing it at all?”

She sighed and put the hoodie on the armrest of the nearest chair. “Look, I promise you that you will be seen doing the good deeds. It’s just not going to be in a conventional way.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms. “Tell me about it.”

“I have a paparazzi agency on the hotline. They’re going to take your pictures as you help out the people.” She turned her phone on and showed him the number, lest he disbelieve her. “This way, it won’t look like you’re trying too hard to appear as good and rehabilitated to everyone. This would make people believe that you’re actually doing good deeds, but without seeking publicity for the same.”

Loki walked up to her with a slow but decidedly intimidating gait. She stepped back as he came closer.

He picked up the hoodie from the chair and brushed his thumb across its fabric. “That’s a very circuitous way of doing things.”

She shrugged, almost giving up on the whole thing now.

“Hmm, I like it,” he said, moving his gaze from the hoodie to Elsa again.

“The hoodie—I mean, the garment?”

“No, the manner in which you’re handling this task.”

“Oh.”

Well, that was unexpected. He was finally going to do it.

Elsa couldn’t help but release a long sigh of relief.

The sigh was, however, cut short as Loki started unbuttoning his formal shirt.

“Umm, what are you doing, Sir?”

“What does it look like?”

The shirt slipped off him gracefully, revealing a lean, muscled frame. Elsa just couldn’t help but stare at him, even though in the back of her mind she was scolding herself for it.

How unprofessional!

Loki slid the hoodie over his arms with ease, lifting his hair out from under it. “This is indeed quite soft.”

“Huh?” Elsa blinked a few times to get her bearings again.

Loki didn’t bother repeating. “Does this mechanism work in the same manner as the fastenings of pants?”

He raised the zipper ends of the hoodie to observe them closely, and at once, Elsa realized that he was wondering how to make the zipper work.

“Oh, you have to bring them together to attach them,” she said, approaching him a bit hesitantly. Getting so close to him made her so damn nervous.

As she took the ends from him, her fingers brushed against his, nearly sending her into a tizzy. Somehow, she persevered.

“You have to attach them like this.”

She tried to attach the damned zipper ends but her fingers were all trembling.

“Steady,” he murmured, grasping her wrists, a bit of humor in his tone. It did make them shake less.

Without daring to look up at him, she tried to attach the ends again. This time, she succeeded.

Hallelujah!

“Ah, so that’s how it is done,” he exclaimed, just as she started zipping up the hoodie carefully, trying her best not to touch his abdomen or chest.

“You usually wear it over the shirts or t-shirts,” she mumbled, finally daring to meet his eyes. “No need to take them off to wear it.”

“Duly noted.”

He was doing the snake impersonation again, and for a moment she wondered if his eyes might just turn serpentine. She squirmed under his gaze, finding it really hard to maintain eye contact with him.

“You need to let go of my wrists, Sir,” she managed to say, wiggling her fingers a bit.

He did let go, but not before giving her a lopsided smile, the meaning of which she couldn’t really decipher.

———————————————————————

Elsa rang the bell of the penthouse that Loki had somehow procured for himself without getting caught by the law or the Avengers yet.

She wasn’t going to question the things she didn’t understand here. Loki was a blackhole of such things, and it was better to remain at a safe distance.

When the door didn’t open immediately, she raised her hand to ring the doorbell again. However, before she could do it, the door opened.

She entered and looked behind the door, but no one was there. Apparently, there was some automatic door opening mechanism here. Or just a magical door opening mechanism… considering who resided here.

She shook her head and ignored it, going in search for her new boss instead.

“Umm… anyone here? Sir? Mr. Loki… of Asgard?” she called, and it suddenly struck her that she didn’t know his last name.

Well, Thor was Odinson… so by that logic, Loki must also have that last name. Right?

“Mr. Odinson?” she called, a little louder this time.

“That would be my brother, not me,” came the prompt reply from behind her.

She jumped in surprise and whipped around to see Loki standing in the middle of the expansive living room. He hadn’t been there when she came in.

His magic was indeed a thing that she wasn’t yet used to.

Taking a deep breath to calm her suddenly rocked nerves, she went up to him and handed him her tablet. “I thought you two were brothers? Brothers have the same last name, no?”

The thought that he was not on good terms with his brother came just a tad bit late to her, and now, it was too late to retract her question. She mentally slapped herself for not being more careful.

Thankfully, Loki didn’t react badly. He took the tablet from her, giving her a raised eyebrow. “I told you I’m adopted. And I’d rather be dead than be known by Odin’s name.”

She turned the tablet on, where a web portal was already open, showing him the media coverage of his ‘covert’ operation of helping out the homeless and the poor.

“Do you not have a last name, then?”

“I do.” He saw her use the touchscreen to scroll down and easily took over from her. “It’s Friggason.”

She noted the way he spoke that name almost reverentially. Curiosity coaxed her to ask more about it, but she tamped it down.

He wasn’t overtly acting so, but she could feel that he was tense. It was in his posture, and the almost unfeeling way he was scrolling through the news feed, with his eyes slightly unfocused.

He let out a sigh, grimacing at some of the negative coverage, she assumed. “You want to know what that name means.”

She bristled at being caught, but nodded anyway.

“I’ve taken my adoptive mother’s name for my last name. Frigga, queen of Asgard.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know why, but she found it extremely appealing. Perhaps it was appeasing the feminist in her.

“I know that most Midgardian cultures do not follow any such customs. Here the names follow the patronymic order.”

“I thought Asgard was like that as well.”

“It used to be. However, now it depends on the situation, and also, on the choice of the offspring. Though, this rule doesn’t apply to the royal family. I’m the exception here, as always,” he stated wryly, handing the tabled back to her.

“Things have changed here as well. Now, we can change our last name… if we want to, that is.”

He gave her a low grunt of approval, then stepped away, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dark formal pants. “You did well with the endeavor of repairing my image in the public eye.”

She perked up at the compliment. “It’s just the beginning, but I’m glad that we have received positive feedback. You will have to work on it still. I have a few jaunts planned already.”

“I see,” he replied tersely.

“Don’t be so bitter about it. I’ll handle it smoothly.”

“You are assuming too much.” He began pacing from one end of the room to the next, not bothering to even look at her. “There are other things on my mind, and they are of much more significance to me than repairing my public image.”

That took her by surprise. “Care to share?”

He gave her a sharp, disapproving look. “It’s not part of your services to me.”

It was clearly a convoluted way to say that it was none of her business. That really soured and deflated her happy, bouncy mood. She had been expecting some form of enthused approval from him, and that, she realized, was her inherent problem here. She had expected too much, too soon.

She looked down at her hands as he continued to pace. “Ok, umm… then I’d take my leave.”

“No.”

“No?” she squeaked in surprise, then cleared her throat to try it again. “No? I don’t understand.”

“This is a full-time service. You cannot just take your leave.” He halted the pacing for the time being and twisted his fingers in the air. With a green glow, a sheet of paper materialized in his hands. “I have prepared a list of things for you to do, to be completed within this week.”

Elsa approached him quietly and tried to take the sheet from him. He pulled it away at the very last moment, using his height to keep it out of her reach.

She looked at him bemusedly, wondering just what hell he was up to.

He looked down at her with that snake-like expression again, which immediately made her palms clammy. “If you don’t complete them within the stipulated time, there might be… punishments in store for you.”

“Punishments? What kind of punishments?” She wondered if he understood how ridiculous this whole thing sounded.

“I’ll be the one deciding on that.”

Elsa cleared her throat then, and tried to compose herself. “Sir, our contract didn’t talk about punishments. That’s not how services are given here on Earth.”

“No?” he asked, tilting his head. “What a dreary way to go about it.”

She mentally made a point to check her contract again. “Yes, well, it’s not slavery.”

“Don’t you receive cuts in your pay for any transgressions?”

He had her there. “Well, under certain circumstances—”

He cut her off before she could say more.

“Yes or no.”

She gave him a small nod, pursing her lips in displeasure.

“There it is, then. You will complete all these tasks for me within the given time, unless you want a cut in your pay.”

She nodded again, her mind already racing on how to best go about completing these tasks. The trouble was… she hadn’t even had a look at the list of things he had given her.

Loki hummed and handed her the list then, a wide grin stretching his lips (not unlike a shark). “Good girl. Now off you go.”

Elsa took a deep breath once she came out of the penthouse. It was only then that she gave the list a good look. He had written it by hand, as was evident with his typical, almost calligraphic handwriting.

Tasks for Elsa Trembley.

Time limit: A Midgardian Week.

Procure a set of communication devices for me, all of the ones that I’ve seen you use. They should be of the highest quality and they should be connected and safe for me to use.

Make a list of all the possible small term investment options available in this realm.

Prepare a brief note on all the economic and political dynamics of the realm.

Procure a decent set of books and media which cover the geography of the realm.

Prepare a brief note on this issue of ‘climate change’ that I keep seeing in the news every other day. I want to know everything about it.

Prepare a list of sweet treats which I can try here in New York. I’d like to order large portions.

Elsa’s eyes widened upon reading the list, and she could only mutter one word in reaction to it.

“Motherfucker!”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #loki and the minion #Latent-thoughts #Chapter 3

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