#TW : mention of blood

[bearw-me]

Post-extermination!Lute x fem reader? Where lute is trying to show that she's still good/strong enough for reader and she can still be independent. Along with reader comforting Lute about how she's still perfect for her. (Details and examples below bc i enjoy rambling sorry)

I imagine that after loosing her arm lute would be very showy about overcompensating for it. And that if reader even tried to treat her bit differently, like being more SLIGHTLY gentle/careful with her, lute would get offended tell her to knock it off.

Lute's a strong woman, pre-extermination her carried reader alllll the time. Post-extermination Lute would most certainly still try too (and surprisingly succeeds somehow) despite the reader's worries of being dropped or being too heavy for 1 arm.

This ranges from trying to hold all the groceries alone to trying to prove she's still good in the bedroom by not allowing the reader to help (like she'd literally tell reader to let her do it alone)

I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

dont apologize for requesting! i adore long requests! they have all the little details for the prompt included that make the story just- *chefs kiss*

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐨 𝐈𝐭 — ��𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𐐒 includes : post-extermination!lute x fem!reader 𐐒 cw : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of blood/stitches/wounds 𐐒 summary : lute's adjusting to life after extermination day, and as her girlfriend, you hope to make it easier on her 𐐒 note : i don't even know what to call my rambling anymore lol, love it

like we all saw at the end of the season, lute is full or rage- and a little hurt

the loss of her arm, initially, didn't hurt as much as losing her best friend

it takes longer for her to heal and accept the sudden turn of events

she doesn't want it to stop her or hold her back, especially from her relationship with you (especially with the loss of adam) she'd want to hold on tight to you

(like in the ask) Lute isn't one to just be beaten down by this, its a challenge she's going to fking overcome-by herself

likes to do things for YOU instead of the other way around, like if you want a snack or something she won't even let you stand up (let alone THINK) about grabbing it yourself

definitely wouldn't tell you about how she feels unless its too much, but you can see it in her; the way she's sluggish or looking down more often.

(although im not sure atm) I assume Lute is right-handed; without the left, things can get a bit trivial at times

like when you watch her try to balance her long spear with one arm, the weight of the steel trembling between her fingers. the muscles in her arms not used to carrying the entire weight by itself

Lute carrying you with one arm: she tries like how she used to, by putting an arm under your arms to support your back-but stops when she realizes she cant pick you up bridal style

I think she could manage holding you that way, around your back if you also hold onto her by wrapping your arms around her shoulders

(on this note) you being so close to her face is the perfect opportunity for her to kiss you

Hugging her from the back is not happening- her wings and all. . .

If you tried to help her take care of her arm too; bandaging it or cleaning it; she'd refuse all help and lock herself in the bathroom until she's handled it herself

(you can hear a ton of mumbled swearing and things knocking around)

its not a you thing, its a her thing; she needs to prove to herself that she can do it

Lute would hate all the flowers the other exterminators would get her; to the point she wouldn't even acknowledge the roses you placed on her nightstand

she's too stubborn to ever say it, but she's thankful you're still with her: Lute giving you soft kisses when she thinks your asleep, whispering all the 'thank you's' she doesn't think she could ever say to you awake

The loss of her arm pushes her to work harder, especially on the arm she still has in order to compensate for what happened

Technically, the hell-spawn didn't take her arm, but they still took a lot from her- she doesn't want that to mean they could take you from her too

You bet your ass the day will come where she picks up that spear again, better than fucking ever

[ghosty-dsmp]

Animal fun facts of the day cause im bored

Honey Badgers are unaffected by most snake bites, but if the bite is strong enough the badger will literally just ‘sleep’ off the venom for a few hours & will wake up ready to fight (their skin is too thick for some snake venom/bites)

Autumn is sometimes called “hooting season” because owls hoot more frequently during the fall to claim territory or find a mate. (No pictures for this one)

When threatened, horned lizards shoot blood from their eyes as a defense mechanism. Their blood is also toxic from a diet of venomous ants.

[oddly-specific-hermit-headcanons]

Everyone thinks that Mumbo is so pale and cold because he’s a vampire

But he’s actually just anemic and forgot to tell anyone

Everyone always thinks the redstone on his hands or face is blood

[fizziepopangel]

No Bad Vibes

“Please, don’t!” I cried as Lute approached me, ripping my weapon from my hands and tossing it aside. I backed up, stumbling over something and falling back into a puddle leaking from the nearby dumpster. “Lute, please don’t do this. Please… You’re my friend!”

Lute looked down at me, scoffing. “You’re just as pathetic as Vaggie.” She spat, raising her spear, not even a hint of remorse in her eyes despite me thinking that we had been friends. “You deserve to rot in this hellhole just like that backstabbing, demon-fucking whore!”

The pain of her spear piercing my skin was so intense that I couldn’t even scream. Blood gushed from the wound across my cheek as I fumbled for my own weapon, my efforts cut short when my friend’s boot slammed down on the back of my hand. I didn’t have time to cry out before I felt her grab a fist full of my hair, tossing me against a wall as if I were a ragdoll.

Blood gushed from wounds, but the pain was too intense to tell where exactly I was hurt; it felt like everywhere. I was struggling to breathe, only barely getting to my hands and knees before I felt it; searing pain around the base of my wings…. Nausea hit me and there was this ripping and suddenly, my vision went dark….

I woke up drenched in sweat, my chest tight as I shot up, clinging to the blanket I had burritoed myself in at some point throughout the night. The scars on my body seemed to ache as if the wounds were new, yet somehow I felt numb as I sat there, eyes focused straight ahead into the darkness of the bedroom.

“You have another nightmare, princess?” I jumped, head snapping toward the doorway where Husk stood, undoing his tie. Although I hadn’t heard the hellcat come in, I couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded me seeing him standing there.  

“I…I..” The words wouldn’t come, so I just sat there, shaking my head and holding onto the blanket, tears slowly beginning to roll down my cheeks.

Husk made a soft sound of sympathy as he crossed the room and took his place in bed beside me. “Aw, princess, don’t cry..” His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his side. “The scars botherin’ you again? You want me to rub ‘em?” He asked, carefully wiping the tears from my eyes.

Nodding hesitantly, I let the demon slip my shirt off and direct me back to the bed. I wait a few moments before feel the cool sensation of the cocoa butter against my back. I couldn’t help but stiffen; despite having done this multiple times since we had been together, I couldn't help but be self conscious at the fact that he could see the deep, jagged scars down my back where my wings once were.

His pressure was gentle as his hands massaged the scars. “They ain’t as sensitive as they were before.” Husk said in a soft, gruff voice. “I guess Vaggie was right about massaging ‘em helpin’.”

Humming in response, I let my eyes slip shut, trying to ignore the thoughts of the day I fell. It was a moot point with Husk working to massage the angry scars down my back. “Thank you…” I mutter softly, though I knew it was probably muffled and hardly audible with my face buried in the bedding as I lay there.

Husk let out a chuckle, placing a kiss between where my wings once were before gently rolling me over and pinning me to the bed. “You ain’t gotta thank me, princess, I may be a grumpy old man, but I’d do anything for you, you know that.” His eyes filled with something I hadn’t really seen before, but something familiar all the same as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “And I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you like that again.” 

Before I could say anything, Husk had moved, grabbing a fresh set of blankets and a fresh set of pajamas for us each. “Charlie said carrying bad vibes with ya ain’t healthy so come on, let’s get you into somethin’ you ain’t had any nightmares in.”

A giggle bubbled up in my throat as I got up to change. “So you believe in bad vibes now?”

“Nah, I still think it’s a bunch of bullshit.” Husk chuckled as he spread new sheets over our bed. “But I believe in you gettin’ your beauty sleep.” He teased.

Smiling sleepily, I flop onto the bed, nightmares and pain forgotten as I lay on the fresh bedding. “You’re coming to bed too, right?” I ask, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. “I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

The hellcat let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. “It’s poker night, baby….”

“Please?” I pout my lips slightly. “I wanna cuddle.”

“Ugh… Fuck…” He sighs again as he laid down beside me, pulling me into his chest. “You know this may be the first time I’ve ever skipped a poker night for a chick?”

“I love you too, Husk.” I yawned, already snuggling into the hellion’s soft, warm fur, feeling safer than I had in a long while as I listened to him grumble about missing his poker game while he continued to stroke my back gently. Nothing mattered in that moment, not my past, not my scars or how I got them… In that moment, it was just us.

[leoneedincorrectquotes]

Saki: *spits mouthful of blood onto floor* You’ve become far more powerful since we last crossed paths. Dentist: Please stop, there’s literally a sink right next to you.

[sleepy-bi666]

Oh SHIT-

Vox, to be frank, had gotten used to being in between Valentino’s temper tantrums and fits of blind rage.

But this time, maybe, he had gotten a bit too close, he thinks, currently having a wooden hairbrush stuck in his screen- now that he thinks of it, why does Valentino even have one? He’s bald!

Vox knew Valentino hadn’t meant to (probably), he had been aiming for the wall and Valentino’s vision is shit, so this could’ve easily been an accident.

Vox winces as Valentino tries to remove the brush from his screen, cyan colored blood dripping from the wound as he does so.

“D-don’t.” Vox warns, knowing Valentino could absolutely fuck this up and put him in more pain than he already is.

“Sorry, amor,” Valentino croons, sounding remorseful for once in his life. “Just trying to help.”

Vox huffs at that. “You’re the one who threw it at my fucking head.”

Valentino huffs right back. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Mm. Still.” 

Valentino rolls his eyes. His brow suddenly furrows with worry when he notices how shaky Vox has become. “Come, amicito, let's get you sitting down..” 

Vox complies, not wanting to risk fainting and breaking his screen more than it already is, though he would absolutely die if someone saw him gripping onto Val’s arm the way he did.

Valentino eases him into sitting on a plush armchair, going to get something- Vox hadn’t been paying enough attention to know what, exactly. Sue him for being tired and in pain.

He dims his screen- essentially his version of resting his eyes- trying to ease the lightheadedness building up.

He can hear the sharp clicking of Valentino’s heels against the floor, announcing that Valentino has come back.

“Are you awake, Voxxy?” He hears Valentino say, and he hears a hint of worry in his tone- he wouldn’t dare point it out, lest he wanted something else smashed in his screen.

It takes Vox a moment. “Mm. Kind of.” 

Valentino sighs. “Good enough, I suppose.”

Vox drifts off to the hum of Valentino’s voice as Valentino holds him, carefully cleaning away the blood around the cracks in Vox’s screen.

[xionandpluto14]

Whump prompt:

Character A has been the target of numerous assassination attempts, from arrows barely missing them, to waking up in the middle of the night to see someone standing over them with a knife.

Every attempt has failed thus far- their work is sloppy, at best.

And then one day they see a signal flare not too far off from their team. Not one to ignore a potential cry for help, they head over to see what the situation is.

When they arrive, they find Character B there, inspecting the place as if they feel something is off.

Now that Character A thinks about it, something definitely is off. There’s no one here besides the two of them, so who could have possibly set off the flare?

A feels a sense of dread, and only then do they look to one side and see the raging flames engulfing the distant forest, blocking any hope of retreat.

“A, look out, it’s—“

The swift sound of a weapon, being brought down on someone with the full force and intent to kill.

The smell of smoke.

The feeling of one’s own heart picking up speed as the situation gradually becomes clearer.

The sight of B, bleeding out on the ground in front of them.

It was a trap all along. The obvious attacks, the failed attempts to assassinate Character A…. They were all a diversion.

Even the signal flare— probably stolen for this very moment.

All of it… to get the ever-vigilant Character B to finally let their guard down, and put an end to their life.

[purpleshellhaver]

me after going to a Christmas party with my adopted brother ( @the-one-true-tello ) then randomally starting to bleed out of my knuckles for no apparent reason while making everyone hot chocolate then waking up with bruises all over my body (I still think it beat me up while i was asleep)

[greendest1ny]

something one of my mutuals said just reminded me that revived garmadon had a gaping wound in his chest. he might even still have it, but he's just wearing proper armour now

there's no way it was a normal wound, since it didn't show any signs of healing the entire time we saw it, and two moon tea didn't seem to heal it either. maybe it was a result of the ritual getting stopped early? so a part of him wasn't fully brought back?

do you think it ever got infected? or that he ever got annoyed by all of the blood that was constantly leaking from it?? do you think that he was more susceptible to respiratory infections because of it??? do you think it hurt him?? do you think he might've ever put his hand in it?

[detective-kamian]

Case.. logs. Uh trigger warning..? Blood?

EVERYTHING is covered in blood. Hypnosis equipment... Everything

God

People are so

Messed up

My chest hurts checking this crime scene

holy crap.

I'm not numbering this. I will post an actual case log soon

Fucking

Rui i cant breathe

I dont think i like the smell of blood

[lucent-roase]

In your opinion/headcanon, why did the possession give Hunter such extreme scarring?

GOOD QUESTION!!!

to answer this, i first want to mention that Belos’ goop has been cooking for a while. i headcanon that what causes the scarring in the first place is because the palismen that have kept Belos alive so long causes skin that comes in contact with it to instantly heal itself after whatever damage is does.

obviously, the Belos goop can travel within fluids like blood, so i think i can safely assume it was protruding out of Hunter’s skin from the blood vessels, i’m not sure how else it would come out. kind of gross honestly, but i feel like that could cause enough damage to ruin the skin.

i’m very very sleepy while writing this, but that’s basically what i’m assuming happened. i hope this makes sense!!

[the-whumpening]

The Pet Tiger, #11 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Dehumanization, pet whump, brainwashing/magical hypnosis, gaslighting and manipulation, noncon bathing, victim blaming, reference to past whump and SA, forced nudity, noncon kissing, mention of injuries and bodily fluids, mild body horror for dream sequence

-

11: Rested

“Good morning, sweetie.”

Gentle fingers brush Ash’s cheek, sweeping his sweaty hair behind his ear. Their scent is sweet and light—just like their voice. Who . . . ? Ash cracks his eyes open against the bright morning light and winces at the headache it spurs.

Faye rubs his temple with her thumb, cooing sympathetically. “Oh, you poor thing. Still hungover a bit, aren’t you? That’s okay, pet—come with me, and I’ll get you feeling better in no time.”

She unhooks Ash from his bindings and helps him sit up in the bed. Ash glances anxiously to the other side—right, Ozmund made me sleep in his bed—finding only barely-disturbed bedding where Ozmund would have been. Although he’s certainly glad for the moment apart, something about his absence almost . . . stings.

Ash shoves away that confusing pang, too distracted with the much more present pain radiating through his body. The throbbing in his head, the stiff ache of his joints, the bruise in his ribs—his frayed nerves scream in protest as he’s forced to his knees to crawl behind Faye. Each “step” of his hands tugs at the bright weal of Ozmund's mark across his heart, and he struggles to keep up his pace.

Once they reach the steamy, oversized bathroom, she’s kind enough with her gentle cleaning of his ruined body. She winces sympathetically at his blooming bruises and treats his wounds—not all the way, not magically; he guesses Ozmund wants to see them as they slowly heal and develop into scars. But at least her touches are soft and careful, nothing like the rough hands of the previous night.

He lets his mind wander elsewhere during it all. If he allows himself to remember, to catalog each injury and its source, to slip into the pit of his memory . . . he fears he might never claw his way back out.

Before long, Ash is startled back to attention by the cool dampness of a washcloth over his stinging entrance. A gasping whine slips from his control, and Faye tuts in disappointment.

“Oh, pet. Look at this—you’re a mess! What am I going to do with you?” She carefully scrubs the dried blood and cum from his skin; the sensation awakens the constellation of tiny cuts and abrasions inside him, reigniting the inflamed nerves. His breath hitches at the pain, but he stays silent. “I heard you were naughty last night. I expected better of you, kitty. What happened? Hm?”

He can’t find his voice to respond. Instead, his face simply flushes with shame. Does she know? Does everyone? He’d screamed till his voice was hoarse—surely the whole manor had heard. As he stares unfocused at the ceiling, Faye leans into his field of view. She looms over him, her soft hand curling to cradle his bruised cheek. His stomach turns; all he can think of is Ozmund’s face above him as he—

Ash shunts the memory as far back in his mind as it will go, slamming the door behind it. He can only hope it holds.

“Pet,” Faye murmurs, still stroking his face. “He wouldn’t have to be so rough if you’d only be a good boy. You know that, right?”

It’s the same thing Ozmund had repeated all night: Ash made the wrong choices. He acted out. He disobeyed. He forced Ozmund’s hand. It’s his fault it had to be this way. It could’ve been nice, gentle—Ozmund could have made him feel good. They had a deal, remember? If Ash could only behave, if he could only keep up his end of the bargain . . . But he couldn’t. It didn’t matter how fair or unfair the deal was to start—Ash agreed to it, and he fell through.

He did this to himself.

Faye’s persistent touch pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. “I don’t want to see you like this again, sweet pet. Don’t make him hurt you, okay? Be good. For me?” Her thumb grazes over his lip, split in the violence of the previous night, before she closes the distance between them. She sneaks a soft kiss, humming contentedly as she pulls away. “Maybe if you’re good enough, he’ll let me play with you, too. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He nods absently, but she’s already moved on to resume cleaning his body. Protests form in his throat and fall away as quickly as they came; no one here cares what he has to say, anyway. No one is listening.

Once he’s clean, Faye leads him by the leash to Ozmund’s chambers again. He’s still gone—Ash sighs internally with relief—but a tray of food has been delivered. Faye commands him to sit and open his mouth; he follows her orders silently, thoughtlessly. If she’s willing to feed him, he’ll ignore the rolling nausea in his stomach and the indignity of his position—after so long subsiding on nearly nothing, he can’t shun the opportunity when it arises.

“There we go, dear.” Faye replaces the fork on the nearly-emptied plate. “I think that’s enough for now. Any more and you might get sick. Have a little water, then we’ll be done.” She tips a goblet of water into his mouth, and he greedily accepts; giggling, she cleans the dribbles on his chin that escaped his reach. “Isn’t that better?”

Finally satisfied in her tasks, Faye returns him to his crate. He can’t help but feel a wave of relief as she locks the door—at least for now, for a moment, he’s safe. How long can that last? he wonders through a hazy fog of drowsiness. How long before Ozmund changes his mind or finds some new loophole to his own rules, some new way to use this one safe place to torture Ash?

Faye kneels down to his level, petting his hair through the bars of the cage. “Rest for now, kitty-cat. The Master will call for you later today when he’s ready to see you. For now, you should sleep.”

Ash isn’t sure he can muster any more dread at this point. Instead, he simply nods and curls up to fall into an unwelcoming dream.

-

It was a thunderous night on the ship heading north. Ash clung tightly to the slender body in his bed—storms always made it hard for him to sleep. Half-awake, he nuzzled into his partner’s hair, breathing in the scent to calm his racing heart.

Evius smelled as lovely as he remembered: bergamot, herbs, and the faintest whiff of smoke. Ash pressed a kiss into his silvery curls. But as his lips came away, another scent lingered in the air.

Leather and boot polish.

He struggled to open his eyes, fighting against the cinching grasp Evius had around his waist.

“Where are you going, love?” Evius murmured, somehow forcing Ash onto his his back and straddling his lap. He pinned Ash’s hands on either side of his head; his silky lips traced feather-light kisses along Ash’s jaw. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His teeth sank down into the firm flesh of Ash’ neck as a flash of lightning illuminated the room. As the thunder rose to meet it, Evius lifted his head, finally allowing Ash to see him.

Except, it wasn’t quite him.

Evius’ features morphed and shifted with each flicker of light. Devilish, then Elven. A halo of shaggy curls, then a river of dark silk. Warm golden eyes, then . . .

Ozmund’s.

“I said,” he repeated, this time in the voice of his captor, “I’m not finished with you, pet.”

As the lighting crackled once again, a shadow formed on the wall opposite the window. A tree branch? No, not this far out at sea. Then, is it—? Yes, it has to be:

Antlers.

-

A thin sheen of cold sweat covers Ash’s bare skin as he awakens in his cage. Although he can’t recall much of his dream, both the image of the antlers and the deep sense of unease in his gut still linger. I’m sure I’ve seen those antlers before . . . but where? What could this mean—what is my brain trying to tell me? He rubs at his still-aching head and shifts to a more upright position.

He barely has time to shake off the stupor when the matching oak doors of Ozmund’s chambers glide open and Faye arrives to retrieve him. Soon, he finds himself kneeling on the ornate Elven rug covering Ozmund’s study; the rough fabric digs into his knees and calves, and he shifts fruitlessly to find any relief.

“Master Greenthorn with be with you soon,” Faye reminds him. She pinches his cheek teasingly, but he doesn’t miss the threat in her voice as she warns him, “Be a good kitty for me.”

For a moment, as Faye closes the door behind her and leaves him unsupervised, Ash has a fleeting thought of escape. He’s alone in an unlocked room—surely he can break free of these chains and brute force his way out of the manor, right? But his resolve sinks in the next breath. They caught him before, didn’t they? And now he has no equipment or allies to aid him, no money to get back home, and no idea how much powerful magic protects this place. He pulls against the manacles, noting the faint green shimmer and a scent like a lightning strike. His head drops; it’s useless. There’s nothing he can do against Ozmund’s magic.

A flicker of movement catches Ash’s eye from the far corner of the room: a bookshelf shudders, swinging inward on hinges like a door. Ozmund steps through the opening and seals the passage behind him. Without even a glance to Ash, he takes his seat at his writing desk, immediately sorting through a jumble of letters and notebooks. Ash realizes something about this room in particular he hadn’t noticed throughout the rest of the estate—unlike every other room, this one is disorganized and chaotic. Yes, the furniture is tastefully arranged and clearly well-made, but Ozmund’s stacks of research and books are haphazardly strewn about in what appear to be arbitrary piles. The shelves overflow with trinkets and papers, and framed paintings lay propped against the wall rather than hung on display. Looking closer, Ash is almost certain one portrait has silvery-white curls and copper skin—

At the creak of Ozmund’s chair turning to face him, Ash jolts back to his stiff, submissive posture. A wall forces itself into place in his mind, blocking back the memories that threaten to push to the surface. As it shutters closed, numbness washes over him once more.

Survive. Just survive, he chants to himself.

“Hello there, pet,” Ozmund purrs. He crosses his legs and leans languidly in his chair—unbothered, unconcerned. “I do apologize for leaving you alone in bed this morning. It’s quite unlike me, but alas”—he shrugs with a knowing smile—“I am a busy man. But don’t fret, my love; you have my undivided attention now.”

Ash holds his expression steady and still—Ozmund’s attention is the last thing he wants. His muscles shake with effort as Ozmund leans forward and gently lifts his chin.

“No need to tremble, darling; your punishments were finished last night. All is forgiven.” For all the warmth in Ozmund’s smile, Ash only feels the cold creep of ice up his spine. “I’ve only called you here to talk. In light of last night’s events, I think it’s time to explain things more clearly to you: what your role here is, what’s expected of you, what you can expect in return for your obedience—or lack thereof. I’d write it down for you, but”—he laughs darkly to himself—“a pet has no need for reading and writing, do they? I’m sure you’ll learn best from experience.”

Hatred and relief battle in Ash’s core; as much as he seethes at the insult to his intelligence, he’s equally grateful to at least be told how to avoid more pain and indignity. Rules, he can work with. He might scream and thrash inside his mind at the thought, but a clear path is better than wandering aimlessly.

“I’m not a monster, you know.” Ozmund’s quip pulls Ash’s attention back, and he fights a scoff in response. “As much as I love to see you off-kilter and squirming, I am a fair master. Look at me, pet.” He holds Ash’s face—still, so strangely gentle—and forces him to make eye contact. A sick, dizzy swirl builds in Ash’s gut, but the sensation is quickly replaced with a warm, comfortable tingling. “Have I ever lied to you, my love? Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

Of course he has, Ash’s lethargic mind immediately retorts. But as he stares deeper and deeper into Ozmund’s hypnotic eyes, his thoughts become foggy and distant. Or, has he? I can’t . . . remember.

“That’s right, darling,” Ozmund murmurs. The hairs on Ash’s neck raise at the sound of his voice and the soft breeze of his breath. It’s sweet, like mint and honey and—lightning, again? “I would never lie to you. I would never lead you astray. You remember yesterday, don’t you, love?”

Yesterday . . . They made a deal. If Ash was good and did as he was told, everything would be . . . easy. Gentle. And if he was bad . . . Ash shakes his head, tiny beads of wetness forming in the corners of his eyes. No, that’s not how it happened. Ozmund threatened him—he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want any of it, gentle or not.

“Have you forgotten already, kitten? I told you exactly what to do: obey.” The sweet concoction of his breath makes Ash’s head spin; maybe he just remembered wrong? He was drunk last night, after all. Maybe I'm confused.

Ozmund traces a finger over his emblem burned into Ash's chest, a flicker of pride quickly replaced with something almost akin to sympathy. “You didn’t obey, and that’s why I had to punish you. I never lied—I did exactly as I promised. But look at you now: fed and clean and rested. I told you I would care for all your needs, my love. You need only let me.”

Ash tries to shake off the numbness in his brain. This can’t be right. Something’s wrong with this—all of this. But try as he might, the fog remains. How can he pay attention and remember all the rules like this? Is this part of the game for Ozmund?

No, of course not. He wouldn’t lie. He hasn’t lied so far.

“Good boy,” Ozmund purrs, one last wave of blissful fog rolling over Ash as he pulls away. “Now, come with me, pet. I’ll explain more on the way.”

-

Taglist: @whumped-by-glitter @lumpofsand @corbytheking @scoundrelwithboba

@tired-human09 @darke-phoenix515

-

Author's notes: I'm back! After a hellish couple months! I've already got most of Chapter 12 done as well so that should be on track for next week. I'm hoping to stick to this 2-2.5k word count each chapter because I feel like those are the most easily readable, but of course there's bound to be variability. Regarding the taglist, I seem to be having some trouble with a couple names not linking? I'm not sure if I'm doing it wrong, but if you're on the list but not getting notifications, please let me know so I can try to fix it.

Oh, also! I know with the content of this story and my naming scheme, the use of an R word in the title might be a bit ominous, but I promise that none of the words I have in mind are triggering or NSFW. Just like the last chapter, I will always tag and warn if I intend to use that word so no one will stumble on it accidentally.

[mystic-story-lover]

~ Texas Death ~

Adam Page x Unnamed Female!Reader 

Word Count:  1589

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Blood Content Warning, Public Sex, Fingering, Penetration, Oral (Male Receiving), 

Type: Fluff & Smut 

Summary: Hangman reflects with his girlfriend on his Texas Deathmatch against Swerve 

A/n: Okay, I saw this match and instantly knew this was going to be written 

~~~ 

Sometimes, Hangman really pissed her off. 

Tonight was AEW’s Full Gear, and her boyfriend was to fight in a Texas Deathmatch. She knew the match was going to be brutal, and she knew that Adam would be taking bumps that made her nervous, but she was also pissed. After promising her that he wouldn’t do anything reckless to get himself hurt, she watched him get glass in his back, fuck around with barbed wire, and play with staples. Out of most things in matches, Hangman knew that was one that grossed her out. 

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?” His voice came from behind her. 

“A million? Two million?” She retorted with questions of her own. “I had to watch one of my best friends take staples to the face. Do you know how gross it is to see staples in another person’s body?” 

“It was for the show, and I warned you there would be things you didn’t like in it.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.  

“I thought you meant glass or thumbtacks, not a fucking staple gun.” Her hands flew into the air in exaggeration. 

Hangman sighed, knowing she was right. For effect of the show, nobody warned her about the staple gun coming around, especially knowing how much she hated it. There’d been times that seeing them has caused her to become queasy, and he felt bad for the lack of warning. Jogging to catch up with her, Hangman let out a breath, hoping he could make it up to her. Once he’d caught up with her, the cowboy reached out for her wrist, catching it in his palm. Using the opportunity, he spun her around, giving her a chance to look at him. Hell, he’d drop to his knees in front of her if that’s what it took for her.  

With wide eyes, she sucked in a breath, taking the time to truly look at him everywhere. She noticed the way the dried blood lingered on his body, but any cuts were cleaned up already. Her hand shook as she reached out for him, and he grabbed it with one of his own, bringing it to his chest. 

“You’re still bloody,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t get it, why are you still covered in blood?” 

“Because Darlin’, I didn’t care about cleaning myself up until I checked on you. You were right, I should’ve told you about the staple spots.” He spoke gently, still holding her hand. 

“I don’t know what to say.” She replied, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m just glad to see you smile.” A smile came on his face as he answered her. 

Her actions were wordless, but they held a tension that the blonde didn’t expect to come from this. As her finger slipped under his chin, he looked at her eyes, and he noticed they were darker than normal. Using the resting finger, she brought Hangman’s face down to her level, and wrapped her arms around his neck. The small smile turned into a cocky smirk when she leaned up to kiss him, which he reciprocated. 

“Darlin’, what are you doing?” He panted out, pulling away from her lips the slightest bit. 

“All I’m doing is kissing you.” Her voice came with an innocent tone, but he knew by the look in her eyes that her thoughts were far from. 

“You really want to do this at work?” Another kiss from her sealed the answer he needed, and he backed her into a wall. 

The two weren’t far from his dressing room, but she knew that he was still sharing it with the rest of The Elite, leaving it useless to them. Thankfully, they were in a dark hallway, one that was barricaded from most sights by wooden crates. There was only one way to see down the hall, and that was to come up right next to the boxes, meaning they’d be hidden with ease. 

“Didn’t think I’d be getting this treatment tonight.” Hangman let out a little chuckle as he moved his feverish kisses to her jaw. She leaned her head back against the wall, welcoming the feeling of his lips on her body. 

“Neither did I,” a moan escaped her when his lips connected with her sweet spot. When his teeth contacted the flesh, a whimper followed his action. “Seeing you the way you are, I changed my mind.” 

“No complaints here.” He whispered below her ear, bringing his lips back up her neck. 

“Hangy, please, I need you.” She moaned out, panting as she leaned her head back in pleasure. 

Following her needs, the cowboy backed away, giving him the ability to turn her around. While her hands collided with the wall, he pressed himself right against her, allowing her to feel his cock through his gear. To not waste any extra time, he quickly tugged her leggings down, her lace underwear coming off at the same time.  

“Touch yourself for me baby.” He grunted, palming her ass in the process.  

She did as he told her, bringing one hand off the wall and letting it fall to her pussy. Small silent whimpers fell from her lips as her fingers met her clit. Adam listened to her gasp as she slipped two fingers into her entrance, and he lowered himself to a squatting position so he could watch her. He’d always admired the sight of her completely at his will, following everything he told her to do, no matter how badly she wanted his hands on her. Tonight, he wouldn’t make her wait long, as he stood upright again, he began to unbuckle his belt. He listened as she continued to pant, his rock-hard cock only becoming painful while restrained. Still reeling from the pleasure between her legs, she listened as the sound of a zipper interrupted the moans she let out. The following sound of fabric falling only increased the slickness at her core, and she released a louder moan as his hand encountered her ass. 

“Take your fingers out Darlin.” He spoke, kissing her left shoulder blade. Again, she did as he told, removing her fingers and bringing the hand back up. “Taste yourself babe.” 

Following instructions again, she took both fingers in her mouth, sucking on them. A muffled moan came from her as she could taste herself. A grunt of approval came from the taller man behind her, and he placed his lips on her middle upper back as he spread her legs a little farther with his foot. Using the extra room, one of his large hands that rested on her ass now found its way to her hip, allowing him to hold her steady as he began to slide inside of her.  

“Fuck, Darlin’, you feel so good taking me in.” Hangman grunted, and she moaned at the feeling. 

Allowing her the time to adjust, he gave a few sloppy and gentle thrusts. When she started moving against him, he knew that he would be able to move faster. With his free hand, Adam reached for her long locks of hair, wrapping them around into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled her back against him. Whilst the point was to stay hidden in the darkness of the hallway, the smack-smack-smack of their bodies connecting could be heard from down the hall.  

“Shit, that feels so good.” Her pants were quicker than they’d been before, the result of him lifting one of her legs, giving him a new angle.  

“Fuck, I know baby. Want to make you feel good.” He grunted, biting her earlobe after his words. 

No longer able to control the volume of her moans, she bit her lip, an attempt that failed. The pleasure that she felt became too much, and she couldn’t keep silent anymore. 

“Adam, oh right there. Please Adam.” She begged, a whining tone following her. 

“Please what Darlin’?” His question was cocky, and they both knew it. 

“Touch me, please, I’m so close.” Another loud moan followed as Adam’s lips met the spot where her shoulder and neck meet. 

“My hands are already on you baby.” He chuckled when he groaned. “Let me hear you scream my name when you come baby.” He whispered in her ear, nose snuggled into the side of her head as his fingers slid down to her clit.  

The feeling of his breath on her ear followed with his skillful fingers playing with her bundle of nerves nearly sent her over the edge, and Hangman felt her clench around him. The thing that sent her over however was when his teeth bit into her earlobe, and his free hand spanked her at the same time. She clenched around him, squirming against him, and he heard her screaming his name. 

“Fuck, baby, I need you on your knees. Want to come in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out of her swiftly. As soon as her knees connected with the cool tile, his hands formed her hair into another pony. Thrusting quickly, he took control of her throat, and she relaxed it to take him farther in. She felt the way his hips stuttered, along with the hot ropes of cum as he finished in her mouth.  

“Shit, that was hot.” He whispered, and she nodded along. 

“Yeah, except for us who heard it down the hall from you two!” Adam Cole called from the Elite’s locker room, and the couple laughed. 

[thebloodmoon-chaos-house]

Shenaniganery from the past week!

First off, four Bloodmoons attending the Bloodmoon Feast! Glitch and Living downing bags of blood like the menaces they are, all the while Fantasy discovers Chick-fil-A and chicken nuggets, Lone quietly sneaks some nuggets into his hood to share later

I am never putting that many Bloodmoons in an rp thread again! :D

And then the lovely Blood Ice Cream thread. Heaven was queasy at the idea but Hatchet absolutely loved the ice cream provided! 10/10 experience for them!

I dunno if the people who had the threads want me to tag them or not, so if ya see this, hi! ‘Twas fun :3

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

do you mind doing a snippet of the hero minding their own business and then they see the villain walking down the sidewalk bleeding(?), clearly running from someone but before the hero confronts them villain passes out and wakes up in the hero's apartment

villain makes enemies wherever he goes, it’s what he does best. he’s a villain, after all.

he underestimated his opponent today. that was a mistake, and he learned his lesson the hard way.

staggering down the street with a stab wound in his abdomen, he didn’t really know where he was going, for how long his legs could continue carrying his weight before it gave out and he bled to death on some dirty sidewalk, alone.

people looked at him, yes, but no one reached out to help. they all avoided him like a plague, even if they didn’t know he was a bad person. they only saw him bleed and decided they didn’t want to get involved, which was… probably a smart decision for them.

after all, villain didn’t expect anybody to help him. he had no friends, only enemies. and he trusted no one.

in the end he someone ran into… hero, another enemy of his. and he thought to himself, ‘this is it. this is the day that you die,’ because he couldn’t have fought or defended himself in any way. he couldn’t even run away.

hero is going to kill you, that villain was sure of.

but before hero could do or say anything, the pain eventually became too much for villain’s body to take.

villain went out like a light, and wasn’t sure if he’d ever wake up again.

he did, it turned out, wake up again.

at hero’s place.

but clearly, villain had no idea where he was at first, only that he wasn’t tied up to a chair, or hung upside down from the ceiling.

he was… in a bed, covered in blankets, with a soft pillow underneath his head. it was… a cozy room he was in, not some creepy dungeons that he was so used to.

now this is weird. this is very weird. nice and comfy but weird. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. usually it involves a dark and windowless cell, a knife or two, and maybe a bucket of water, too.

villain decided to lift the blanket and looked down at his own body. there was a bandage wrapped around his middle, where he was stabbed. oh.

“was starting to fear you’d never wake again,” came hero’s voice, and villain stilled. froze.

villain’s mind started to recall the incident, what happened. him getting stabbed and bumping into hero right before he passed out.

and he woke up here, at hero’s place. the fact hero didn’t chain him up wasn’t anywhere as surprising as the fact hero didn’t kill him.

at first villain was certain hero kept him alive just so he could torture him later. based on villain’s personal experiences growing up, he had every right to assume everybody was going to hurt him and take advantage of his weakness, like a starving shark scenting a drop of blood in the ocean.

but no matter how much villain taunted hero with hurtful words, just to see how far hero could take until hero snapped and revealed his real intention to hurt villain, hero was persistent and was determined to nurse villain back to health, even if villain sure tried pushing him away time after time.

hero spoon feeding villain soft food, helping changing villain’s bandage daily, constantly touching villain’s forehead with the back of his hand to check whether or not villain had a fever.

villain was the worst patient and was stubborn, but so was hero. he wasn’t going to give up on villain, no matter what.

“why didn’t you kill me?”

“I don’t kill people.”

“why are you helping me? and don’t say that it’s what you do. I’ve hurt you so many times. we’ve hurt each other so many times. why didn’t you just leave me there to die when you found me?”

“because I never wanted to hurt you to begin with, whenever we fought, and because you were hurt — you still are — and you needed help.”

“you’re going to regret saving me.”

“I don’t care. all I care about right now is make sure that you’re okay.”

[goggles-mcgee]

Ashes of Rage: Act 1 - Pick Me Up As I Fall

Chapter 5 of the story for @miner249er

Ao3 Last Chapter

Summary:

Roger rarely had to take himself off of a case he so fiercely wanted to solve, but there was only so much he could handle. All he ever wanted to stand for was justice, but when justice came at the price of a child? That's something he never expected, nor wanted.

Pick Me Up As I Fall:

Roger had always wanted to be a cop ever since he was a little boy. It had surprised his parents that his interest hadn’t waned over the years but they had been overall very supportive of him. They celebrated when he got accepted into EOGN and they celebrated when he graduated. Roger had loved every minute of training and after training, working. It was tough, he would admit that, but it was something he loved and that kept him running on his most difficult days. Then he had Sabrina and his focus shifted for a while. No longer was his entire world his wife and work, his entire world became his daughter. He took time off work to help his wife after Sabrina’s birth and he loved it. He loved holding her in his arms, he loved the little gummy smile she would give him when she saw him, he loved the smell of her baby lotion and detergent that filled the house, hell he even loved how her little nose would get red when she had soiled a diaper. He loved everything about her. 

Then his wife passed and it felt like his world would forever be darker and broken with no means of repair. He felt like the rug had been pulled from under his feet over and over again with that sickening sensation of a big drop ride accompanying it. But from that darkness and falling sensation, he found his footing in his baby girl. His baby girl who really hadn’t understood what was happening but knew her Papa was sad, so with her chubby little hands wrapped around his fingers she would pull him from his worst thoughts. She was his little light, she was his purpose and she was his world. Roger couldn’t let the grief suffocate him, for his baby girl he had to mourn and grieve and pick himself up again. His mother and mother-in-law had both been pillars of support he had desperately needed. He worked as hard as he could to make money and when he was home he spent all his time looking after his daughter. 

Things got easier as Sabrina grew, but time had passed by fast, too fast for Roger. In the blink of an eye his little girl had grown, it seemed like forever ago when he first heard her say Papa, since he saw her first steps, from the first day of school. It made him misty-eyed to think about it too long. She was so close to graduating, that also made him misty-eyed if he thought about it. She was such a smart girl but she had a habit of being a follower and that scared him. How would he protect her if she moved so far away? But at the same time he didn’t want to be a helicopter parent and restrict her or hold her back. Ultimately all he could do was be there for her, but he knew the fear would never go away. After seeing how her friendship, if you can even call it that, with the Mayor’s daughter had gone and how she had latched onto another powerful classmate, the thought of her leaving out of his reach made him uneasy. He had nothing against the Rossi girl, she sounded nice despite all the influence she had, but he hated how all the kids in her class followed her. 

It was more than a little disturbing and reminded him of some very unpleasant cases he had read about, heard about, or even seen, where a close group like that is susceptible to the ‘mob’ mentality. But despite his worry, the group was as close knit as they had been in collège and hadn’t gotten in any type of trouble. Sometimes he felt like he worried too much but with Hawkmoth still around and his helper Mayura he felt like he was entitled to worry. Especially about his daughter, she had already been akumatized about 4 times now and he just could not stand seeing her go through another. He just didn’t want her friendship taken advantage of again so maybe that’s why he always asked about her and her classmates. So he wasn’t all that surprised about a call coming for something happening at the Agreste Mansion. Though he would be completely transparent and say he thought maybe Adrien snapped and hurt his father or Adrien ran away or something like that. Sabrina had really worried about her model classmate and constantly told him how Adrien slipped some info about his home life to the class and how it worried her. 

So when the call came, Roger hadn’t been surprised, but as more details came in and when he and many others arrived, the surprise kicked in. Where the once impressive Agreste Mansion stood there, in its place, looked like what could only be described as a crater. No one really spoke for a bit and honestly if they had been Roger wasn’t sure if he would have been able to hear them. All he could think about was the fact he was most likely going to have to see more dead bodies and one of them would be a kid his daughter’s age. Cases that involved kids always hit him the hardest and he didn’t know if he would be able to do it. Miraculously no one had died…or at least that is what he thought in the beginning. The days seemed to pass incredibly slow yet somehow simultaneously in some kind of hyper speed. It was disorienting. 

The Agreste men and Mlle Sancoeur were in and out of consciousness but Roger had overheard some doctors discussing the merit of inducing comas. The winning side seemed to be no since there was surprisingly no traumatic brain injuries. Though the actual amount of injuries each received was staggering and nearly made him lose his lunch when he also overheard the surgeries and possible surgeries that were on the table. It was because of that, and the fact the heroes of Paris had been really quiet since that night, that Roger vowed to find the answers to this awful situation. The people of Paris were rallying in support of a speedy recovery for the Agreste men and Mlle Sancoeur. Some of Roger’s colleagues ended up being assigned as bodyguards for the three given how many times they had to escort fans of Adrien off the property. Somehow they always found ways to slip past the hospital’s own security. 

It was more than a rough time, those folks deserved their time to heal and recuperate and Roger thought that by solving what happened the night of the tragedy, he would at least be able to bring them some slight relief. Though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t also motivated to see what happened just to find out for the sake of finding out. It was a mystery, one that had everyone in a chokehold, not just the station, it was all of Paris. The Miraculous Team was all but missing, they hadn’t said anything about that night, not even on their official blog. Ladybug hadn’t been seen since, there was talk of some news segment that had happened that night but Roger had yet to see it. He had been so focused on the family that Nadja’s report had slipped his mind but it was placed in a folder on his computer to view later as it was considered evidence. The crime scene hadn’t been touched since but the fact that there had been so many people there that night that had no idea what they disturbed and what they hadn’t. So Nadja’s report was very important and Roger was going to start his investigation by watching that. 

“Lieutenant!” Or maybe it would have to wait. 

“Officer Allard.” Roger said in greeting.

“Sorry to interrupt but we got something big.” That had Roger’s attention immediately. 

“Is this for the Agreste case?” He had to know. 

Officer Allard nodded immediately, he looked breathless but excited. “We were able to recover video footage from the Agreste Mansion security cameras. We’re lucky that all footage was backed up.”

“We have footage?” Roger asked, he felt his hope rise. 

“We have footage.” Allard confirmed. 

It wasn’t long till they got everyone on the case in one of the meeting rooms in order to watch the footage. It was a mix of Roger’s department and the judicial police, who had let them work with them given all that had happened in Paris. They had the authority and definitely could have kept them out of the investigation but this had shook Paris to its core. This wasn’t an akuma attack, that they knew of anyway, this was an unknown attack and it scared everybody. They were so used to being terrorized by Hawkmoth and Mayura that they forgot that non-magical crime existed for a while. Though, there was no saying if this was magical or not, this just seemed so different than what they were used to. It wasn’t just the attack that had everyone on edge, Hawkmoth had been quiet, even before the attack he had been quiet. It was like the calm before the storm and it raised the people’s anxiety. 

“I got it connected to the projector, I’m going to play the day of the attack and if needed, I’m ready to view footage from other days if we need them.” One of the judicial police personnel announced. Roger felt a bit ashamed that he didn’t know all their names yet. 

“Sounds good!” Allard, ever the friendly one, said with a thumbs up. It had Roger huff out a quiet laugh. 

Everyone watched the screen in anticipation as the video started. It was odd to see all the different rooms at once but as soon as they saw someone enter the frame, the man who was at the computer made it so they only saw the one screen of the room. Everything looked fairly normal for the family, though no one really knew what normal was like for them but overall, it looked like a normal day one could imagine the little family had. They watched who they found out to be, the Agreste Family’s personal chef’s. The two, a husband and wife, were seen entering the house and quickly making the familiar path to the kitchen. It was honestly kind of boring so all those in attendance voted to rush through until more people came up. From there they saw the family eat, Adrien leave for school and the chef’s leave until they were required for lunch. More fast forwarding to lunch when Adrien arrived back home, Adrien, Nathalie and Gabriel seemed to request lunch in Gabriel’s office. 

Maybe that wouldn’t have been so weird if the chefs hadn’t looked so shocked. It wasn’t hard to guess that that wasn’t something that normally happened, or happened at all before that day. With no sound they could only guess at why this was so weird as they saw the chefs talking about it. Body language at least made up for the lack of audio. Lunch was served and it was obvious that the chefs had been dismissed, but they looked a little shocked to be dismissed so hurriedly. Roger made a mental note to invite the two into the station for an interview. They had a list of employees that the Agreste family knew and those who had been seen going in and out of the house, but with how hectic everything had been, they hadn’t gotten around to interviewing everyone. Time in the video went on and it seemed like the Agreste Family, and yes Mlle Sancoeur was included in that, had had a meeting of sorts that day in M Agreste’s office. It seemed to be about something serious. 

It also looked incredibly suspicious. Now, there was nothing wrong with having family meetings, but this felt wrong, their body language was odd and the way they kept looking at the portrait of Emilie Agreste was weird. “Why are they looking at the portrait so much?” Allard murmured, most likely he thought the comment wouldn’t have been loud but given how everyone present had been silent, the words had seemed like a shout. 

“I would say perhaps they were grieving her disappearance anniversary, but it is nowhere near the anniversary.” One of Roger’s oldest friends in the force, Agent Martin Darcy, pointed out.

“Is that something that is public knowledge?” One of the judicial team members asked in confusion. 

“Oh yeah,” Agent Durand sighed. “It was a big thing. The investigation had been overall short but felt like years. It’s still an open case and M Agreste calls for any new info every month like clockwork.”

“Hm…” Was all that was said as they all focused on the screen once more. 

Things passed and Roger had started to grow bored but he persisted in watching, it didn’t matter if it was mind-numbing to watch M Agreste take an hour just to decide which shade of yellow he liked for a design, Roger vowed to get them answers and answers he would get! More time passed as they watched and…they got answers, but it wasn’t anything they had expected. It left everyone speechless. Roger himself felt like his chair had been pulled right out from under him and he just kept falling and falling. He didn’t want to believe it yet the evidence was right in front of him. Gabriel Agreste had been Hawkmoth, Nathalie Sancoeur was Mayura and…Adrien Agreste had been Chat Noir and he had betrayed their beloved spotted hero, Ladybug.

And Ladybug…

Ladybug had been a child. 

Ladybug had been as old as his daughter when she…

Ladybug had been one of his daughter’s classmates.

Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she had saved them all at the cost of herself. There had to be something in the now destroyed Agreste Mansion that would point to what happened to her. She couldn’t just be gone. There had been that bright red light and then she was just gone and the camera’s shorted out. Roger had to…he needed to…he would find her justice. He had thought the Agreste’s needed his help, he had given them his sympathy and his time. Roger was enraged, he had barked out orders to get a squad together so they could all go investigate the Agreste Mansion. Everyone had acted swiftly and sooner than he had thought, they had arrived at the crime scene. It felt like forever before they were able to secure a safe way down. And down, down they went. It was eerie, no one spoke much as they investigated the place but then there had been that awful scream from Agent Fontaine. He would never forget her scream.

There was a rush of activity, they all rushed toward her, weapons drawn. There was no danger…well physically but the moment Roger realized what she had screamed at it felt like he had had years of his life ripped away harshly. He had seen enough crime scenes to know what blood looked like, even in its charred state. And there next to the charred body of blood, it really couldn’t even be called a puddle with how much there was, there was a piece of what looked like a cuff of a jacket. It was white with pink polka-dots…or at least it had been at one point. Flashes of the surveillance video abruptly crashed into the forefront of Roger’s mind and all he could see was a struggling Marinette who had been wearing her signature jacket. Oh god…her jacket. That was a piece of her jacket . It hit Roger like a freight train. He knew that jacket and he knew that little girl who had been struggling and fighting till her last moments. 

His legs gave out and he found himself on the ground, distantly he could hear panicked voices and felt hands try and help him up or check him over. “I can’t…”

“Lieutenant!” 

“I…I can’t be on this case. I take myself off the case.” Roger blurted out in a rush, almost as fast as the tears that fell from his face. “I knew her. Oh god…I knew her.” 

___________________

Officer Lucas Allard didn’t know what to do with himself. His colleague and superior Lieutenant Roger Raincomprix, someone he looked up to had taken himself off the biggest case they had ever had and it wasn’t like he didn’t understand why, but he found himself feeling lost. They had, all those who had gone back to the Agreste Mansion, had found one comatose Emilie Agreste in a hidden basement level no one had known about. They all had thought that the, what could only be described as a lair, in the videos had been the only hidden room but it felt foolish to believe that now that the evidence had been shown to them. Now, instead of them trying to find justice for the Agreste’s, it turned into a case against them. Someone had to go through all the available footage and Lucas had been the first to volunteer.

It was tedious and menial like all other video footage they had to comb through but with the context of what they could find it became so much more important. It was important to his Lieutenant, to the police force, to all of Paris and Lucas was determined to slap any and all charges he could uncover on the Agreste Family. There were many moments of watching Gabriel Agreste monologue to himself in his lair or talking to his victims and there were many moments of Adrien Agreste sneaking out as Chat Noir but it was noted that the times he left were considerably later than when he was needed or contacted. It just added more credit to the ongoing theory that Chat Noir had always been meant to betray Ladybug and the rest of Team Miraculous. It made Lucas unbelievably angry. 

Ladybug had done her best to protect them, then the team she put together did the same. They were all so dedicated and determined, it made it hard not to be motivated to be the same way in his work. He may not have been a hero in the magical sense, but Lucas had vowed to be his own kind of hero. So yeah, his eyes were stinging from his infrequent blinking, he was probably getting a headache from staring at the screens for so long and so intensely, but he refused to give in. He felt almost manic searching through each video they had and trying to find anything that could be important. He was so close to giving in to his fatigue when he saw it. A girl walked in and from what Lucas could remember, she had been in Adrien’s class.

They were going to eventually talk to the rest of the class to see if they noticed anything off about Adrien but hadn’t gotten around to it but they all knew who was in his class. That’s why Lucas recognized her as someone from Adrien’s class, he paused the videos to grab the file next to him that had people of interest and there she was, Lila Rossi. Why was she visiting the Agreste Mansion when Adrien wasn’t there? It was strange, more than actually so he watched as the girl greeted Mlle Sancoeur and then waited to be escorted to Gabriel’s office. From there it seemed they were having some sort of meeting and Lucas had been ready to dismiss it as a meeting about her modeling but paused when he saw Gabriel pull up a picture of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Ladybug. His heart dropped at the way Lila Rossi’s face twisted into a sneer before she schooled it into a look of resignation. 

When Mlle Rossi finally left Lucas saw Gabriel save what had to have been a video of his meeting with the teen into a folder on his computer. Lucas burst into action, they had the computer with them, they were able to save some of the files and Lucas needed to know what it was. He heard some people shout in shock at him but he paid no attention. He sprinted out of the room he had been working in, the room the team had been in before, and grabbed the flash drive that held the contents of Gabriel Agreste’s computer. Lucas knew others from the team were following him now but he did not stop. He connected the drive and did his best to rush to the folder he had seen on Gabriel’s computer. Thankfully the laptop he was using was connected to the projector still so everyone who followed him saw what he was doing. 

Once the seemingly innocuous folder was opened they all saw documents on top of documents, videos on top of videos and voice recordings on top of voice recordings instead of design ideas meant for Lila Rossi. Lucas clicked on the top file which happened to be a voice recording. “ Hello? ” The room was filled by the voice of who could only be Lila Rossi. 

“ Miss Rossi .” Gabriel’s voice came out of the speakers, but it sounded deeper. Lucas did not fail to notice how some of those around him flinched at the sound, they had all been akumatized at one point he noted. 

“ Hawkmoth .” Lila greeted in barely restrained glee. It made Lucas’s stomach drop. “ Do you need my help again? Do you need me to be an akuma again?”

“What the fuck…?” One of the judicial police, Carmen Fortin, murmured in her shock. 

“Did she just say, again?” Agent Darcy growled.

“ Eager as always, Miss Rossi. ” Gabriel stated like it was the most normal thing he had heard. “ But no, no akuma this time. While I am aware you are…skilled in projecting your anger when the time needs, I am calling to see what progress you have made on Miss Dupain-Cheng .”

Everyone was quiet. 

“ I’m doing my best .” Lila gritted out in false cheeriness. “ I’ve isolated her in class, I’ve spread rumors, I’ve had her pathetic friends wrapped around my finger and had them denounce their friendship to her. I don’t know what more I can do. Why do you even want her to be akumatized? What do you and Gabriel Agreste see in her? She has no potential! She’s a lame goody-teo-shoes and- ”

“ Rossi .” Gabriel barked and everyone in the room flinched. “ Leave your inferiority complex at the door. I have explained time and time again why Miss Dupain-Cheng is imperative to our success. ”

“ Well then what do I do? ” Lila asked, obviously irritated. 

“ Do I have to have ideas for you too? Get creative Miss Rossi, if you can spin a web as…well as you do, this should be child’s play. I want Dupain-Cheng broken…I want her angry, I want her to be so impossibly lost that she won’t even think of denying Hawkmoth’s hand for help. ” 

“... I understand. I won’t fail you. ” It sounded like every word brought Lila pain.

“ No. You won’t .” 

The call ended then and still no one knew what to say. Hawkmoth had another accomplice and it was a teenage girl, and by the look of the absolute depth of the possible blackmail folder had, she had been an accomplice for a long time. Lucas didn’t call people evil lightly, but looking at the size of the folder he couldn’t help but think Lila Rossi was evil. How could one teen hate someone so much? How deep did this go? Just how many other people were involved in the attack on one Marinette Dupain-Cheng? On Paris? Lucas was scared to find out, but first, they needed to track down Lila Rossi and her mother.

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