#ch: mister bug

[dailymlgifs]

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 24]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

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Words: 6.8k 🌶️

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It is by some birthday miracle Minnie has yet to run out of energy.

Usually, once she has her bath and changes into her pajamas, she starts to wind down, but today is a special, exciting day, so she just keeps on going. 

It probably does not help that as part of her massive birthday haul, she got a new onesie pajama that makes her look like an oversized mouse - including big ears and a long tail. As soon as you finished zipping her in and pulled the hood up, your daughter went absolutely feral. She started scampering around on all fours - pretending she was indeed her namesake.

That was ten minutes ago, and you don’t think she’ll stop anytime soon. Especially not with Matt encouraging her. 

You watch from your spot on the couch as Minnie scurries over to the dining table, crawling under one of the chairs to hide. In the kitchen, Matt is dramatically pretending to look around while he holds up the butterfly net that came with a toy bug hunting kit. 

“Here, mousey, mousey, mousey,” he calls out in a low voice, which only serves to send Minnie into a fit of giggles. “Here, mousey, mousey, mousey.”

You, of course, play along and muse out, “I don’t know Mister Exterminator, this mouse may be too smart. I don’t know if you’ll be able to catch her.”

“You’re right,” he says, straightening up and he turns to face you. He rests the net on his shoulder, then taps at his chin with the index finger of his opposite hand, “I think we are going to have to set a trap.”

“A trap?” you question. You appear to keep your full attention on Matt, but in reality, you are sneaking a picture. Mouse is crouched in her hiding spot, hands covering her mouth. It takes everything in you to not start laughing.

“A trap, my Queen. We’re going to need some cheese, a stick, and a bucket.”

“I’m bigger than a bucket!” Minnie suddenly protests before realizing she’s given away where she is and clamps her hands back over her mouth. Matt whips around and starts towards her, raising his net with a mock menace.

“Gotcha!”

Minnie tries to dash towards you and the couch, but Matt, gently and with amazing precision, brings the net down on her head. Your little one instantly collapses to the floor like she has no bones. She reaches towards you, and with a performance worthy of an Oscar, declares, “Tell Scooby I loves him!” before falling over. 

You do your part by gasping as Matt scoops up her limp little body. He brings her over to you, presenting her with a slight kneel, “The Mouse Princess has been slain, my Queen.”

Minnie is trying her best to keep her eyes squeezed shut and suppress her giggles, so to make it even harder, you take on a blasé attitude, “Oh, how very sad. Now she can’t come to the super-secret dance party.”

Little eyes pop open and Matt sets her on her feet as she squirms back to life, “I wanna go to the super...super secret dance party!”

The Dance Party is your scheme to get the last of Minnie’s energy out. You do not want her to stay up too late past her bedtime, or she is going to be grumpy tomorrow. No one wants a grumpy toddler at the zoo. 

“You want to go to the super secret dance party?” Matt confirms, a large grin starting to form on his lips, and Minnie nods so hard her eared hood falls off. 

You go to fix it, fluffing the ears so they properly stand up, “What song should we play first, Mouse Princess?”

This is a hard decision, and as she thinks over her options, Mouse sticks her fingers into her mouth. This is a behavior you are beginning to think you should address, but you want to do more research and consult with Matt as well. You have been wondering if it helps her focus - her own way of limiting out the various inputs she must be constantly receiving. You think that maybe having her hand in her mouth helps to mask other smells, because you have noticed she doesn’t actually suck on them - they just are inserted - and it's something she does when she’s thinking.

Or it may be that she's a toddler and likes the taste of her fingers and you are once again overthinking everything. 

“R-B-S-T!” Minnie finally declares, throwing her hands up in the air. Matt looks absolutely baffled by the decision, but luckily, you speak Minnie, and know exactly what she wants. You grab your phone, open up your music app, and go to your daughter’s playlist to select the requested song. 

You get up as Aretha Franklin begins on the speakers.

This is one of Minnie’s favorite songs to sing and dance to, and yours as well. You have listened to it so many times you almost have little routine together. You begin to shimmy your shoulders at your daughter as she does the same to you, leaning forward and singing in sync.

“What you want. Baby, I got it! What you need, you know I got it!”

Matt lights up and it takes him less than a beat to jump into bopping along. It is one of those songs you think everyone knows the lyrics to, so you aren’t surprised when he joins in singing at Minnie. You quickly become a dancing circle, grooving together. Minnie stumbles over some words but her toddler heart is completely in it. She belts out the song, the biggest smile on her face as you mime some of what is being said.  

You continue to dance as the song changes to one that filled your childhood. You carefully curated the playlist to be free of any Disney Sing-a-longs or other toddler centric jams - these are strictly songs you actually enjoy that are safe for Minnie to listen to. You picked one-hit wonders and things that tend to fill the radio airwaves on a Friday night. 

The song is popular enough that Matt seems to know some of the words - or he is shamelessly making them up. You aren’t going to fact check him. You are too caught up in watching him dance - he’s completely thrown himself into it. He even has a little bounce in his step. 

His t-shirt is tight around his chest and when he raises his arms, his shirt rides up, showing off a belt of skin above his pajama pants. You can see the band of his boxers - a brand you aren’t aware of - and it makes your skin warm. You know you should not stare, but it is hard not to.

Especially when he does a spin.

Your eyes drop down to his behind and you feel like an absolute pervert ogling him. How does he manage to choose clothes that emphasize how wonderfully fit he is while still looking so casual? 

You tear yourself away from his perfect physique and try to enjoy the playtime with your daughter. You need to wear her out, which means you need to be more enthusiastic with your dancing.

You have found a strange upside to Matt being Blind and that is you are more comfortable acting a bit of a fool around him. He isn’t going to stop and stare at you for doing something silly for Minnie and the idea that he can’t perceive you in that way is doing wonders for your anxiety. You are very much aware that he knows what you are doing because of those amazing senses of his but you don’t feel judged in the way you do if you know someone is seeing you. It is probably Ableist in some way, but you like being able to relax more around him. 

You don’t need to hide who you are or pretend to be someone you are not. 

You begin to move your hips, swirling them as you throw your hands up into the air. You get a full body motion going, quickly adding in a few twirls. 

Mouse is quick to copy you, arms up, spinning, and rocking side to side. You slowly add in some arm pumps to get her little muscles really going. Matt seems to catch on to what you are trying to do, as he starts to add in some leg kicks to his dances, which Minnie instantly incorporates into her movements. Soon enough, she looks like she’s either in a mini mosh pit or - since she’s in a mouse costume - she’s a tiny kaiju trying to ravage an invisible town. 

You go through two more pop chart toppers before Minnie shows any signs of slowing down. As soon as you sense that her enthusiasm is dipping, you move onto step two of your devious plan.

“Do you want to dance with Daddy?”

The answer is obviously a yes. 

The Mouse Princess gets scooped up and set on Matt’s hip and he takes one of her small hands in his so he can guide her around in a dance. You let them have one bopping dance, where it is all energy and Minnie shimming like crazy before you sneakily switch the playlist. 

The next song has a beat to dance to, but it is nothing like the previous ones. Matt gradually slows so he is rocking in place, pretending to slow dance with his daughter. 

You stop at that point and stay on your phone, holding it up to record him mouthing the words to ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ while Minnie slowly starts to sink against his shoulder. You can’t help but sway to the music, a soft smile spreading across your face. 

You never thought you would get this - not just seeing Minnie’s father being so absolutely sweet with her, but having a family where these sorts of moments can happen. You didn’t think this was the type of life you would get to live. 

Instead of indifference, you are surrounded by love. It may not be love for you, but you get to soak it all in and enjoy how your daughter is absolutely spoiled. Matt is so clearly head over heels for her, wrapped around her little finger more than you are, and it seems like he is dragging his entire network along with him. 

His friends went hog wild in terms of getting gifts for your little toddler. Not only did Foggy give her the pogo stick, but she got all sorts of stickers from him and coloring books - and his Mom - who you really need to meet at this point - sent home baked cookies and Scooby Doo themed puzzles. Karen was not to be outdone, though, as she and Frank went the doll route. They entered your apartment with a two-story wooden Victorian style dollhouse that the Punisher apparently refurbished. They had full Princess themed furnishing to go with it and you can only imagine that poor Karen is going to be getting doll ads for months.

Sister Maggie sent along more practical things - some learning to read books. To your great surprise, all of the simple stories come with print lettering and Braille, and Minnie now also has a big letter board that has the same. You want her to learn the language and now she and Matt can read bedtime stories together. 

You still have trouble comprehending that all these people are in your daughter’s life now. It so effortlessly went from being just the two of you to an extended Family. 

And even Minnie is understanding that. 

While Foggy is Froggy and Sister Maggie is Daddy’s Mommy, Miss Karen has been officially upgraded to Auntie Karen. You do not know what triggered the change in title, but she was lording it over Foggy and Frank like it was a status symbol. 

You have promised to take so many pictures to send to them while you are at the zoo and the sheer idea that other people want the photos makes you giddy. You know you are going to end up printing some out to frame. You want to send something to Sister Maggie and you just know Matt will want one - or fifteen - for his desk. 

You are dragged from your thoughts when Minnie finally, finally yawns. 

You stop the music before it can go onto the next crooner and step towards your favorite pair, “Are you getting sleepy, baby?”

She nods against Matt’s shoulder before turning her head so she can use him as a pillow.

“Okay, let's get you into bed,” you coo. Luckily, she does not protest - she is completely petered out and you are not sure if she’ll even make it to the bed before she's in a deep sleep. 

The Dance Party was a complete success, and you decide it will be something to keep in your back pocket when Mouse is too active at night.

You follow Matt as he carries Minnie to the bedroom. He is still just barely swaying her in his arms still, tempting her closer and closer to Dreamland. 

You slip around him to get into the room first so you can make sure the sheets and covers are turned down. As the dead weight that is your daughter is slipped into bed, you turn on the air conditioner, so the room gets nice and cold. By the time you get back to Mouse’s side, Matt has gotten her sleep headband on and secured, and you can't tell if she's awake or not.

Apparently, she is still somewhat conscious, because Matt asks in the softest and sweetest voice, “Did you have a good birthday, my love?”

Minnie’s lips barely move as she mumbles out an, “uh-huh.”

“I'm glad. Mommy and Daddy love you very much. Sweet dreams, my little angel.”

He gives her a kiss to the cheek, then steps aside so that you can do the same. As you pull back, she weakly smacks her lips together and breathes out, “Luff.”

Your heart grows three sizes, and you truly feel like the Grinch when you have to pull Matt from the room. You know, if he could, he would stand there all night, standing dutifully by her side as she slept.

But Mouse Princess Minnie needs her rest, and you need help cleaning up the aftermath of the party. 

The dining table is covered in various arts and crafts projects. Minnie had practically run a little sweat shop with how she had multiple adults sat and focused on painting and building things with popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners. Luckily, everything is dry now and can be moved. You have a scrapbook you are going to put some pieces in, and others are going to be hung up around the apartment. 

You want to keep everything Minnie makes - you have no relics from your childhood, and you don't want that for her. You want to sit down with her when she's an adult and laugh together about how cute she was. 

As you start to clear the table, Matt begins to walk around the room, picking up any lingering trash. You've been good at cleaning throughout the day and not letting things sit, but you still had things like empty birthday bags and toy boxes out. You can see him snapping out of the corner of your eyes as he gathers things, and it makes you smile. You are always fascinated about how he navigates the world and using echolocation to clean isn’t something you would have thought possible.

“I didn't picture you as the dancing type,” he teases across the room as you sort arts and crafts.

“Oh, I am not,” is your instant reply and you can’t help but screw up your face at the idea of you being a dancer.

“Really? You seemed to know what you were doing.”

“Definitely not,” you insist. You feel yourself start to flush as Matt chuckles behind you.

“I think you are selling yourself short. I bet there were more eyes on you than you realized when you went dancing.” You know he is being sweet and trying to boost your ego, but you’ve never been out dancing. You didn’t even go to your prom. In fact, the last time you danced with someone who wasn’t Minnie was in middle school, at one of the in-school dance events.

That isn’t something you really want to admit, so you go with, “I don��t really go out dancing.” 

He gives the faintest of sighs from the living room, so you decide to try and humor him and add, “I don’t think I’d enjoy a club, but I always thought learning ballroom would be fun. Less people and..you know,” you motion up and for some reason twirl your hand, “less bass.”

“That does seem more your style,” he replies, and you heat up even more. You know he can’t see you, but you duck your head to try and hide how you must be blushing.

As always, when you feel yourself start to get flustered, your brain takes a backseat to your mouth. You muse out, “I always wanted to learn to slow dance.”

You instantly start to mentally berate yourself. You sound like a complete idiot - as far as you know there is no method to slow dancing beyond swaying. You equate things like waltzing and other partner dances with slow dancing - even though the terminology isn’t right.

“You’ve never slow danced?” 

He sounds surprised and you want to smother yourself with the artwork in your hands. You are digging a hole of pathetic-ness and you need to abandon this topic of conversation before Matt realizes how lame you truly are. To do this, you tell him, “I told you I’m not the dancing type.” 

Matt doesn’t respond, so you think you are in the clear. You don’t dare look over at him, instead keeping your focus on Minnie’s painting of Max you’ve just picked up. Her drawings are getting more and more defined - you can actually tell this is meant to be a dog as opposed to her usual circle-based creatures. You are so proud of her, and you can’t wait until she’s more comfortable with writing. You think her toddler handwriting is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Siri,” Matt suddenly says from right behind you, making you start with fright and drop the painting back to the table, “play ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”

You whirl around to find Matt impossibly close, holding his phone up to speak into it. You quickly start to shake your head, just barely chanting, “no, no, no, no,” at him.

“Getting that from your Music Playlist,” the phone traitorously replies before the song starts to play.  Matt reaches past you to set his phone down on the table, then that same hand goes to your waist.

You try to protest by saying his name, but he cuts you off, “Humor me.”

Your anxiety can’t fight that as much as you want to, so you very reluctantly let him pull you away from the table and towards the emptier area of the kitchen. You cannot look at him as he guides you into position - you can only stare at your feet and pray for the internet to cut out and turn off the music. 

But of course, that doesn’t happen. 

Matt slowly begins to sway, and you force yourself to awkwardly follow along. He must know how uncomfortable you are, as the thumb that is on your hip starts to rub in slow circles and he starts talking in a soft voice, “they never played a lot of music at St. Agnes’, but Father Lantom used to have a radio in his office. He’d have it going after hours, when he was doing paperwork or working on sermons. I would focus on it to help me sleep - they’d always play the same things over and over and it became like white noise to help dampen everything else. He used to hum along with this one.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to him and not the lyrics to the song. You don’t think you’ve heard him refer to this person before, but you are guessing this is the man who ran the Church Matt grew up in. 

“It’s a good song,” you mumble, trying your best to engage with him instead of being overwhelmed. 

“It is,” he agrees. He steps a breath closer to you then oh so gently, just barely touches his forehead to yours. All of your embarrassment evaporates, and you are very hyper aware of everywhere you and Matt are touching. Your throat tightens a fraction, and your heart begins to pound so loudly it drowns out the music. 

You want to apologize because you know Matt must be able to hear your heart becoming a drum and it must be annoying, but all you can do is sway in his arms. 

You feel his breath on your cheek when he asks in a whisper, “is this okay?” and you can’t do anything more than get your head to nod up and down once. His response, for some unknown reason, is to give a pleased hum. The noise is like lightning down your spine, making you shiver against him and instead of letting you go like you would expect, he becomes even closer. 

Your reaction is to curl your fingers tighter around him and you don’t understand why. Part of you wants to run and hide under your covers and never speak of this moment again, but another wants to stay like this forever, because despite your panic, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

To be held?

Even if it is a ruse. 

Matt is taking pity on you and dancing with you as a bit of a tease, but he’s not being cruel. You told him you don’t dance, so of course he wants to dance. You’ve seen the interaction in film and television plenty of times - Matt is a good man and wants you to have fun.

And you are, aren’t you? 

You’re having fun.

You had a wonderful day filled with laughter and joy, and now it is ending in a sweet moment. 

You can let yourself enjoy this. 

Matt breathes your name against your cheek and the lightning feeling is back, “you’re overthinking again.”

“I’m trying not to,” you promise him, because you truly are trying to tamper down your thoughts. It is just hard not to when your mind won’t stop spinning. 

“Do you want this?” he asks after a moment and you have no idea what he means, but honestly it doesn’t matter. Every fiber of your being screams the same thing as soon as the words leave him.

“Yes.”

The world comes to a sudden halt as Matthew Murdock’s lips press against yours. 

They are soft and warm and as sweet as you remember them being. They are hesitant, almost delicate, as they move against yours. A gentle hand comes up and cups your cheek and it snaps you back into reality. 

The dam inside you breaks and you do not think - you only act.

Your hands launch up to tangle into his short hair and you kiss Matt back with a hunger you did not know you had.

His reaction is instantaneous - within a moment you are backed against a countertop, and he is practically devouring you. He is groaning low in his throat, sounding almost animalistic, and the hand that was on your hip is now on the small on your back, keeping you pressed firmly against him. Gone is the sweet, innocent moment - you need him in a biblical way, and you think he feels the same. 

To your own surprise, it is you who pushes things further, biting at his lower lip. He opens himself easily for you and you reward this by licking into his mouth. 

He may have you pinned to the counter, but you do not feel trapped. You know if you showed any doubt about what was happening or indicated you wanted to stop - consciously or unconsciously - Matt would be across the room in a second. 

You don’t need to be scared with him - you know that now - and that only fuels your fire.

You need to be touched.

You need to be held. 

You need Matt to fuck you stupid.

And by the bulge starting to press into your hip, you think he is more than happy to do just that. 

Matt breaks the kiss, only to move his mouth down to your neck. He drags his tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin there causing obscene little noises to come out of you.

“Sound so good,” he growls into your throat and all sorts of heady reactions course through you. “Smell so fucking good. Drives me crazy.” He emphasizes his point by burying his nose into your pulse point before biting down. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you whimper out his name, but he isn’t done with his praise yet, continuing on between lapping at your skin, “Sit there so innocent and sweet, not knowing I want to bury my face between your legs. Can’t think when you get all flustered. Want my tongue on you at all times.”

His words wash over you, but you can’t contextualize what he is Actually saying. All you can hear is his current need and desire and you want his tongue on you as well. You know how well he can use it and your body craves him.

You don’t know how to tell him what you want beyond hiking your leg up to wrap around him and pressing your hips forward with a needy, “Please, Matt.”

It seems that is all he needs you to say. 

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and sets you on the counter. You lean back to push your sleeping shorts and panties down and he is there to help, practically tearing them off your legs and sending them across the kitchen. As soon as that barrier is gone, Matt wastes not one second - he drops to his knees between your legs and drags you forward by your hips, throwing your thighs over his shoulders. 

Any shame you may have is gone the moment he drags his nose from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit and only then do you realize how absolutely soaked you are. 

He starts to mumble something under his breath, but you can’t hear him over how heavy you are breathing. The hot puffs of air against you are the worst type of tease and already making your muscles quake. To keep yourself from slipping, you place one hand on the counter, then use the other to grab onto Matt’s hair. You must grab too hard as he shudders under your fingers, but he keeps up his soft words.

He’s so close and you haven’t been touched in so so long that you cannot take this. 

“Matt, please,” you beg and again he shakes under your hand. 

“Amen,” you just barely hear before his voice raises just enough to be actually audible, “Don’t worry, my darling, I’ll take care of you, now.”

You nearly lose it when he finally puts his mouth on you. You are already worked up and so sensitive, that a few flicks of his tongue has you mewling. That only serves to encourage him, and he buries himself deeper into your core, moaning shamelessly like he is the one being pleasured. You grip tightly onto his hair to try to keep some composure, but you are already right on the edge. 

Your hips start to twitch, and your abdomen starts to tighten before you realize it. Your head rolls back as you start to chant Matt’s name in a pant, begging him to chase your incoming orgasm. 

He, of course, happily obeys. 

It is not mind shattering, but it has you rocking forward to curl around Matt’s head, your other hand coming around to claw at his shoulders as you come. He keeps his tongue working until your thighs stop quaking, then he pulls back. He grins up at you like he’s a kid in the lewdest candy store - his mouth and chin and glistening with your juices and it’s clear he couldn’t be prouder of himself.

“One,” he purrs out and you start to laugh a little from how cute he is in your giddy state. You remember in your night together all those years ago, he had also counted your orgasms. It didn’t come off as smug then and it definitely doesn’t now.

He effortlessly raises up to his feet and you let your legs fall from his shoulders to wrap around his waist instead. His hands glide down from your hips to your thighs before he tugs you forward so he's holding you up. He slowly starts to back away from the kitchen and you secure your hold on his shoulders, so you don’t slip as he carries you.

You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him. Your slick tastes tart on his lips, but you don’t care - especially when you can feel him melting into your touch. You keep things slow and languid as he brings you to the couch. You pull away as he gently lays you down, but not fully. Your hands drop to his stomach, and you tug at his shirt, “Off.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

He fluidly pulls it off before crawling over you and boxing your head in with his large arms. You loop yours around his neck again as he dips to kiss you again. 

The feral need inside of you has been temporarily satiated, so you can enjoy this slower exploration. Your hands smooth over his neck and back and you cannot believe how muscular he is. His suits do a good job to keep him looking lean so that you often forget how much raw power he holds. You feel like you could get lost in just touching him - tracing along his skin to feel each little freckle and scar. 

It seems like he could do the same for you. While keeping one arm down to keep himself held up over you, the other makes its way between you. His hand pushes up under your oversized t-shirt and up to your ribs. You aren’t very ticklish, but you still shudder and arch at his touch. He easily finds your breast and massages it a few times before pinching at your nipple. 

You gasp into his mouth, and as he begins to tweak and play with it, you have to turn your head away because you can’t keep up with his kissing.

“So sensitive,” he teases in a whisper. He nips at your ear before starting to make his way down your neck again. 

“Feels good,” you reply, trying to not whine, but you are pretty sure you fail. 

Matt hums in response before scooting down your body. You hook your legs around his waist as he pushes your shirt up to reveal your breasts, then watch as he bends to take one in his mouth. You close your eyes as he begins to suckle and pleasure washes through you. 

You bring a hand up to scratch lightly at the base of his skull as he starts to worship your chest. He is sure to make sure your other nipple isn’t neglected, pinching and flicking at it in time with his tongue. It doesn’t take long for your core to start pulsing and gushing again, but Matt stays focused on his task. He starts to alternate which breast gets the attention of his mouth versus his hand and soon enough you are thinking you can cum again just from this. 

You start to squirm and pant under him, but it is when you rock your hips into him that he changes course. 

You feel him move and adjust, but you don’t know how, as he never neglects you for a second. Once he is how he needs to be, the hand not already preoccupied slips between the two of you. He runs one finger over your slit, pushing between your labia to coat himself in you. You can’t help but moan at the teasing. 

But he doesn’t do it long - as soon as he’s slick, he pushes into you. 

His finger is thick, and the stretch feels perfect - it isn’t too much, but a little more might be too uncomfortable. He starts to pump his finger in time with his tongue and all you can do is lay there and take it. You are on the edge of being overwhelmed, but right in the state of bliss.

Praise starts to tumble from your mouth this time, as you keep up scratching at his neck and shoulders. 

“Feels so good. Already so close. Please, Matt. Need you.” 

Before you even realize you are ready for it, he pushes a second finger into you, and you are nearly seeing stars. You know his cock is big and you need the stretching, especially after so long, but part of you just wants him in you now. He’s always so sweet and he’s not going to hurt you in that way, so you know he’s going to make sure you are ready before fucking you. 

But you are still going to be needy about it. 

You start to roll your hips, wanting more and more and more. It takes you a few tries to match his pace, but once you do, the buildup is quick. You can feel it in your thighs first, tingling and spasming as your release gets closer. 

Matt releases your nipple from his mouth long enough to encourage you, “Cum for me, darling. Cum on my fingers.” 

He crooks his fingers as he latches back onto you and you white out. You shake and curl as your orgasm rocks you and Matt doesn’t let up at all. His fingers pump and work your way through it until you cannot take any more stimulus and you have to try and crawl away. He takes pity on you and pulls back and slides his fingers out. 

They instantly go into his mouth, and he licks them clean in the most obscene way possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, admiring everything about his physique. 

Only once he’s finished his task do you reach for him. Your fingers skate from his chest down his abs until you can grab his boxers and pajama pants. You tug them down enough to free his cock and it is a thing of beauty. It’s thick with a slight curve and one pulsing vein running along it. The head is swollen and red and leaking pre-cum like a faucet. You wrap your fingers around the base and slowly stroke up. Matt’s head rolls back, his lips parting just slightly, and he looks like he is in absolute heaven. 

“Didn’t get to taste you last time,” you tease, and you are practically salivating at the idea of having him in your mouth. You want to return all the pleasure he's given you. He needs to be the one to lay back and enjoy your mouth on him.

He groans before rolling forward, so he is hovering over you again. “There will be time for that later, can’t wait for you any longer,” he says in a low voice, and despite his eyes not functioning as they should, you can see the hunger in them. 

You more than understand that and lean up to meet him in a kiss. Your hand is still wrapped around him, so you give a few pumps to smear his pre-cum, and as you do, he quietly swears.

“I don’t have a condom.”

The words hit you hard and your eager and horny mind of course throws out the first thing you think, “You already got me pregnant once with one.”

Matt’s nose flares at that and his cock twitches hard in your hand. He swallows thickly before asking, “Are you clean?”

“I am,” you promise. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. Are you?” He gives a jerky nod and when he does, you rub your thumb over his head, teasing the slit, “then I’m okay without one.”

He surges forward to crash into your lips, and you release your hold on him so that he can position himself. You tangle your fingers into his hair again, and to test a little theory, tug at it. He all but moans into your mouth and you can’t help but ask, “Do you like that?” 

“Yes,” is his instant reply. It’s his turn to tease when he rubs his cock over your needy cunt. “Bite me, scratch me, do anything you want to me. I’m yours.”

Then he pushes into you and all the thoughts and ideas in your head turn to dust. 

Even stretched out, there is still a slight burn, but it feels so wonderful. He starts with slow, shallow thrusts until he is fully inside you, only to settle for a moment. He noses down to your ear and nips at your lobe. He repeats, “I’m yours,” in a low growl before pulling out of you and slamming back in.

The pace he sets isn’t brutal, but it's clear he’s as eager and wanting as you. You drag him back into a kiss, biting at his lips as he gives you exactly what you want - what you need. One hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it but not squeezing. You respond by digging your nails into his shoulder. He hisses into your mouth, but you can tell he likes it by how he reacts.

His other hand grabs you by the hip and tilts your pelvis up so he can drive himself deeper into you. You gasp at the sudden change - his cock is hitting the perfect spot and with each stroke, you feel like you are going to lose your mind and Matt seems to know that. He begins to pepper bites and kisses along your shoulder, sending shocks of pleasure to your core with each one. 

Your anxiety is nowhere to be found, so there is nothing to hold you back from clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. You guide him back to your neck, where his bites feel the best, and give breathy pleas. He digs his teeth into you as your third orgasm starts to build. 

The arm around his shoulder drops to the couch and you reach for the hand that is holding him up. He allows you to tangle your fingers together and you squeeze his hand as you clench your cunt around him. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, just as he starts to lap at your neck.

“Me too,” he pants in reply, “needed you so badly. Need you so badly.” He turns his head to press it hard against your shoulder, and asks the most ridiculous question you’ve ever heard, “do you want me to pull out?”

You shift so you can hook your leg around his waist and dig your heel into the small of his back in response while also tugging hard at his hair. 

“Fuck,” he moans into you, instantly starting to pick up his pace to the point the couch is starting to rock, “Yes, I won’t. Fuck.” He starts to chant your name in between swears and you try to use the leverage of your leg to rock your hips to meet his thrusts. 

You bite into his shoulder, so you do not cry out as your orgasm takes you by force. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses up and your hips twitch violently and euphoria rushes through you. Matt’s hips sputter once before he buries himself in you. 

You lose yourself for a few moments as you quite literally sink into bliss. Your leg relaxes around Matt, sliding down to keep around his thigh as you settle into the couch. He lets go of your hip to allow you to do that, but he follows you down, putting only some of his weight on you like a heavy, warm blanket. 

You lessen your grip on his hair so you can begin to give him light scritches and that makes him nuzzle into your neck with a pleased little noise. You return the noise, then use all the effort left in your body to turn your head to kiss his temple and squeeze his hand at the same time. 

“Stay like this,” you request. Your eyes are getting heavy, and you don’t fight to keep them open.

“Anything for you, My Queen,” he replies, sounding just as gone as you feel. You manage a chuckle and another kiss to his hairline.

“My sweet knight.”

You fall asleep under Matthew Murdock, your legs, hands, and hearts tangled together.  

---

a/n: :3C Next chapter is the zoo.

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[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

[imbiowaresbitch]

A is for Assbutt, ch. 1

Summary:

Dean has been a teacher for five years, and a dad for three. Well, he'd been a dad for six years, but Lydia failed to share that information. When she died in a car accident, he got custody of Emma, who became his entire life in an instant.

Charlie and Stevie tell Dean he needs to date, but as a single dad, he can't just pick up anyone. Emma comes first.

A chance meeting with another single dad at pickup, the father of Emma's friend Jack, has possibilities suddenly occurring to Dean. Cas has sole custody of Jack, and is also the legal guardian of his neice, Claire.

Can Dean and Cas make it work?

~~

The mid-winter sun shone down on the schoolyard. Kids were running every which way as shouts and laughter echoed off the red brick of Crestview Public School, where Dean had been teaching for five years. He, along with two other teachers, was on yard duty, and he blew on his chilled fingers, his gloves forgotten at home yet again.

“Mister Dean!”  

The shrill cry, urgent and angry, but not injured, pulled his attention to the boy running full tilt toward him, a smaller figure trailing behind. The bigger kid, Ryan, stopped in front of him, the smile curving his lips wide with an unholy glee that he remembered far too well from the previous year when the little shit of a bully – sorry, energetic and strong-willed child – was in his second-grade class. 

“He called me the B-word!” Ryan declared, pointing at the younger boy, who tilted his head in confusion at Ryan before turning big blue eyes on Dean and shaking his head.

“Did not,” he said solemnly, and Ryan turned on him, looking like he was about to turn the argument physical. Dean stepped between them quickly, holding a hand out, and Ryan stopped his charge, a mulish expression on his face.

“He did! He’s lying! He called me the B-word!” Ryan shouted, his face red with the cold and with anger, and Dean sighed internally. 

“I'll deal with this, Ryan.” He crouched down to be at eye-level with the other boy, who met his gaze earnestly, bright blue eyes open and honest. “What's your name, buddy?”

“I'm Jack Novak, and I'm six years old,” Jack told him promptly, and Dean couldn't help but smile a little. Still, they really tried to discourage name-calling, so he smoothed his expression, going for serious but not threatening.

“Jack, did you call Ryan the B-word?” he asked, and again, Jack tilted his head to one side, a little like a kitten inspecting a bug for the first time.

Jack shook his head. 

“I promise I didn't, Mister Dean. My daddy told me I shouldn't lie to teachers.” Dean took a breath, sensing that Ryan was about to explode behind him, but Jack continued. “I called him an assbutt. That doesn't start with a B.”

~~

This is very much a WIP, with 8 chapters already, roughly 30K written so far. I've got a crap-ton of bangs to write, so this is the one that'll be going up as I work on those but can't share.

Read chapter 1 on AO3.

Part of my Embarrassing Things Kids Say series.

~~

Thanks to @nickelkeep and Ariadne for the beta!

[anmylica]

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @iamstartraveller776 (by way of the addition that requested anyone do it that wanted to, and I was curious.)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there is a pattern!

(I didn’t have 10 posted fics yet so I did the ones I have plus 2 that are coming pretty soon. I also chose to do the most recent chapters on fics that aren’t completed yet.)

1. Delayed for a While- OUAT CS

Emma and Killian walked out of the Storybrooke Town Hall, both calling out their goodbyes to their friends and waving as they walked away from the crowd that had gathered to help awaken Snow White and Prince Charming from the Evil Queen’s latest sleeping curse.

2. Something About December (Throw a Wrench In Your Plans)- OUAT CS

David tried really, really hard not to disturb his sister before 9:30 in the morning on her days off (and let’s be honest, he tried not to disturb her before he had to on days she wasn’t off anyway), as Emma “Swan” Nolan wasn’t a morning person in any interpretation of the word.

3. The City of Lights- OUAT CS

Killian Jones opened the door of his apartment to the sound of his girlfriend, Emma “Swan” Nolan, quoting Steel Magnolias verbatim as the television blared in the background.

4. The Fields of Asphodel- OUAT CS CH. 9

Here’s the thing:  Neal knew not to trust his grandfather.

5. Like Slow Spinning Redemption- OUAT CS

Liam Jones’ day consisted of restocking the bar and wiping down surfaces, the same old monotonous routine that he had followed since he had been sentenced upon his death and subsequent arrival in the Underworld.

6. Take Me Out (After the Ball Game)- OUAT CS

Emma rolled her eyes as she tried to hide that she was checking a text from her brother during the meeting with the mayor of Boston bugging her about going to a Red Sox game with him and Mary Margaret, his wife.

7. Season II- OUAT CS CH 6

Sorry?!  She was sorry?!  She didn’t know the meaning of the word, but Hook decided that he would delight in showing her how sorry she could be once he was through with her. 

(The first line was just one word so I gave more to go with it!)

8. Fly With The Black Swan- OUAT CS CH

Their arrival in the tiny port town came late at night.

9. A Little Glimpse of Heaven- OUAT CS CH 4 (not published yet, but coming soon once I finish edits!)

Neal sat motionless as the screen in front of him went black.

10. Romancing Mister Jones- OUAT CS (not published yet but hopefully soon!)

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is rather remarkable the kind of popularity Miss Milah Smith has managed to cumulate during her brief time in London’s social season this year.

No, I definitely don’t have a pattern.😆

[wikia22]

Sometimes I think we are waiting for next season episodes for far too long...

“THE LADYNOIR/THE MISTERNOIRE” THEY CRIED [x]

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.19 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has been through a lot in his short time in Backwater, but there's always the Dorothy option.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Dorothy Option’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. But they still changed and there wasn’t a damn thing Stretch could do about it. He never could.

After Red cut him loose from the shop for the day, walking across the main street to the movie theater was the same, but the breeze cutting through the sweltering heat was different. A couple days ago, Stretch would have eagerly lifted his face into it, let it dry the sweat rolling from his skull and basked in the cooling effect.

Today it was a reminder that summer was actually ending, and autumn was creeping in one slow step at a time. He’d always liked the fall season since they came to the surface, there was no such thing in the Underground. But now that he knew what was coming with the end of the harvest season, it only made him a little sad. It wouldn’t be too long until the scarecrow pole in all the fields was empty.

Stretch paused outside the theater, looking back towards the shop and past it, to the forest behind it. He was too far away to hear the rustling leaves, still green and vibrant, untouched thus far by the changing season. He could still hear it somehow, like a leftover echo, the memory of that sound loud in his head as he turned back to the theater, the constant chatter of leaves scratching inside his skull.

The sound cut off like a stopped tape recorder as the door swung shut behind him. Igor was right inside, looking a lot like an out of work funeral director in his threadbare suit. He looked up from where he was sweeping dandruffy bits of popcorn into a pile and wordlessly went behind the counter to scoop out two cartons of fresher stuff. The dilapidated marquee over the concession stand had only one title on it. ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

“weren’t you playing this flick just a couple weeks ago?” Stretch asked curiously, handing over a fiver.

“Popular movie around here,” Igor told him, tonelessly. Yeah, okay, movies about Kansas and great farming fields, and wonderous unknown worlds where danger lurked. Wasn’t hard to see how people around Backwater could form a parallel to that, hell, there was probably a shrine to Judy Garland in every house on the street, set up with offerings of corn and tiny water buckets.

He looked down at the popcorn cartons that were sitting on the counter, the smell of fresh melted butter rising, and asked abruptly, “can i get a box of raisinets, too?”

Igor nodded and took back the single bill he’d laid down, the box of candy rattling loudly as he set it on the countertop.

Stretch took it and the popcorn and headed into the theater. What was that about, he wondered. He didn’t even like raisins. Maybe he’d take them back for Red.

The theater was empty, without so much as an abandoned soda cup in the aisles and the floor still swept entirely clean. So much for people loving this movie. Stretch sat down in the far back row with his popcorn and candy to wait.

Right on schedule, the lights went low, the MGM logo came up, and then with a swell of music Kansas appeared in a grainy sepia.

He’d seen the Wizard of Oz before coming to Backwater. The first time he’d seen it, they were still in the Underground and it was hard not to make the odd mental comparisons when they came to the surface. Now that he was here in this town, Stretch related to Dorothy more than ever. A stranger in a strange land, sure, but the scarecrow sidekick was pretty damn specific. Would Edgar Allen even know what the yellow brick road was? He was pretty sure the scarecrow in his life didn’t get out of his fields much, if ever.

Never going anywhere, never really living. He sat out there in fields with corn and crows for company, guardian and prison as one. Stretch wondered if that was as sad as his mind kept trying to make it or was he putting his own pathos on an anthropomorphic personification of a scarecrow. Maybe Edgar Allen was perfectly happy with his lot in life. Hell, maybe he was looking forward to the harvest season and a chance to rest without the corn chattering to him all the time, it was possible.

Thinking that made him feel a little better about the situation and Stretch sank back into his chair and munched on another buttery handful of popcorn.

He was so absorbed in the movie that at first, he didn’t notice the seat next to him was no longer empty. A blood-streaked hand reaching towards the other carton of popcorn was his first clue and Stretch bit back a yelp, soul hammering in his ribcage as he inwardly cursed himself for being so jumpy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this before, loads of times now, it was what he bought the second carton for.

“hey, there,” Stretch said softly to his ghostly companion. “sorry it’s been a few days.”

“That’s all right,” Doris told him, her faint voice barely audible over the strains of ‘We’re off to see the Wizard.

The Tin Man was lamenting his lack of heart by the time Doris spoke again, tentatively and filled with quiet apology. “I’m very sorry, I feel as if I should know your name, but…”

Oh. Stretch closed his sockets briefly. Damn it, Red warned him about this, to not be surprised if she didn’t remember him. He didn’t allow the faint sting of hurt to show. It wasn’t her fault, it was entirely the fault of whoever had blown away part of her head and left her here to haunt a lonely, dilapidated old theater until it was time for her to go wherever ghosts did when they moved on.

Whoever it was that did this to her, stole her life and left her mostly alone in death, Stretch hoped they felt that sin clawing its way up their back long after they went to the hereafter.

“it’s okay, doris,” he said as gently as he could while Judy Garland danced across the screen, “it’s stretch, like a rubber band.”

“Yes! Stretch!” she laughed delightedly. She clapped her gloved hands together like a child. “Yes, that’s it. It was on the tip of my tongue when I saw you brought me popcorn, but I couldn’t quite shake it loose.”

No surprise there, half the time she didn’t have much tongue left.

She leaned in over her carton to take a deep, ghostly breath and twin streamers of blood ran from her nostrils. His appetite for popcorn faded and Stretch fumbled out the box of raisinets. The cheap milk chocolate barely masked the taste of the raisins and he grimaced, chewing gamely even though the texture always made him think of eating bugs. Dirt-flavored bugs in chocolate, who the hell came up with this so-called treat and were they appropriately punished for it. He could only hope.

They sat together in silence, watching the movie, and by the time the trio made it to the Emerald City, Stretch was squirming in his seat. Doris’s appearance broke the distracting spell of the movie and now his thoughts were wandering back to that morning and Edge’s sudden appearance in the store with so much worry on his pale face. Then there was that soft, unexpected kiss, so sweet against his cheekbone, a punctuation mark on the end of a silent paragraph and maybe he needed someone else to give it a read.

“doris, can i ask you something?”

She turned to him, the ruin of her head solidifying into a pretty young woman as she tilted it curiously. “Of course.”

“it’s kinda a long story.”

She folded her gloved hands primly into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

And that was her real tragedy, wasn’t it. She was tied to this crumbling old theater, unable to go where she needed to. He didn’t know what happened to ghosts once the building they were tied to was gone. But this place was on its last legs and if it closed, the cushions of empty seats rotting away and the silver screen silent, where did she go? He hoped it was someplace nice, a place where she could rest and always be beautiful, without bringing along the gory remains of her last minutes of life.

But they were working on his issues right now. “it’s about a guy.”

Doris brightened visibly and literally, going briefly more solid. “That Edge person you were speaking of before? The other skeleton.”

“yeah,” Stretch said, relieved. He hadn’t been sure how to bring up what they’d talked about before without making her feel bad for not remembering. “see, it’s like this—"

Doris sat and listened as he talked, as enthralled as she’d been when watching the movie. It was like last time when he’d came to ask her about Edgar Allen; she never flickered when she gave him the full weight of her attention.

It might be bad for the theater to have so many empty seats in the house, but it was good for people with the bad manners to talk over the movie. Stretch told her everything, didn’t hold back a thing. About meeting Edge in Red’s living room and his attempted lamp-ocide, about their impromptu lunch at Mama’s. About his brief starring role as little orange biking hood when he ventured to their cabin in the woods, about Frisk. The only thing he didn’t mention was the whole ‘me from another universe’ thing. That was a lot for even him to bend his mind around and his was still in one piece. Doris never interrupted, listened all the way to the end, until Stretch was nearly hoarse as he said, "…so what do you think?"

"Hmm. He certainly sounds charming, in a rude sort of way. My, it makes me think of Pride and Prejudice," she laughed softly. "Although your Mister Darcy showed his true nature far sooner in your tale.”

Thinking of Edge’s hips in a pair of those tight old-school trousers while he danced a waltz was not at all helping the situation and Stretch shoved that thought deep into a mental closet for later.

“but what should i do? he confuses me so much i don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt around him.” He slid down in the chair until his skull was resting on the back. “and then there’s red to think about, he’s done so much for me. he says he’s not worried about his brother, but…” Stretch trailed off and held up his empty hands.

She nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t want to stir up trouble in their family, especially since it seems they already have some rough waters.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, tiredly. He knew something about stormy weather in a sibling relationship. The last thing he wanted to do to Red and Edge was bring in rainclouds of his own.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said at last. “Tell him what you’re feeling. It seems to me he’d listen to you and he wouldn’t…” Doris’s mouth moved but her words faded. Her pretty visage changed gruesomely, a full show of her shattered face and skull, the fragile bits of bone littered across one shoulder while blood filled the ruin of her eye socket.

Stretch swallowed hard and didn’t look away, waiting until she slowly returned to appearance of a lovely young woman who was finishing triumphantly, “…and who knows what will come of it after that!”

Okay, well, half an advice was better than none and he sure wasn’t gonna ask her to repeat herself.

So. Talk to him. Right. Not bad advice, maybe a little generic, but then, Doris didn’t know about his past history when it came to relationships. She also didn’t know that Backwater wasn’t a permanent assignment for him. He wasn’t too sure about bringing that up, not when it affected her, too. Maybe it would be better to let her forget him when he was gone; with her memory, she might not even realize what she was missing aside from the occasional wistful thought about a spare carton of popcorn.

But she wasn’t wrong, either. Much as he wanted to continue skipping through his life of avoidance, there was only one way he was going to get any real answers. Maybe it was time to figure out exactly where he and Edge stood. His sense of balance in life was pretty damn shaky as it was, and Backwater seemed to treat the laws of reality as more like suggestions. Why would the laws of gravity be any different?

Plus, there was another mystery Stretch was looking to unravel and he was already working on a plan for that. He owed some gratitude to a bony skeleton dragon in the woods and Stretch wasn’t keen on owing debts.

Doris folded her hands into her lap primly. “So? What are you going to do?”

“eh,” Stretch let out a little laugh, “something stupid.”

“Oh.” Doris pursed her lips. “Is it safe?”

“nope,” Stretch said cheerfully and poured himself out another handful of chocolate pseudo-bugs. “but i’ve stayed alive so far. may as well press my luck.”

On the screen, Dorothy was repeating her most famous line and he had to agree, there was no place like home. His only problem with it was that he was starting to get a little fuzzy on where exactly that was.

~~*~~

tbc

[lunchtiger]

A Match Made in Hell's Kitchen, Ch. 2

(Ch. 1) cw: swearing

Chapter 2, In which a trusted friend offers the Truth.

A few days later, 2:47 PM, The Law Offices of Nelson & Murdock “Where did my life go wrong, Foggy?” Matt Murdock leaned back in his chair, limbs going slack as if he was trying to just give up his mortal coil. “You want the right answer or the funny one?”, replied Foggy Nelson, not looking up from his current case work. “The funny one, please.” Matt’s hands moved to cover his face as if trying to pull out his anxieties through his fingertips. “Well, there was that time you took out a bunch of student loans to become a public defender as part of your weird crusade, but we both know that’s not what’s bugging you.” Foggy got up from his desk, poured two cups of black coffee and handed one to Murdock, “Your legal counsel advises you to dish because you’re just gonna wind up getting too deep in your own head and doing something real dumb.” Matt sighed, deflated for a moment before sitting upright, holding the coffee mug in both hands. “It’s this wedding, man. I just…” Matt got quiet for a moment and quivered a bit, his anxiety clearly visible on his face. Foggy raised an eyebrow, slurping his coffee loudly for effect, “You’re just…feeling fucked up because you’re expecting it all to go down in flames because that’s all you’re ever prepared for? News Flash Murdock, not every relationship has to be some toxic, co-dependent whirlwind of a fucked-up affair where you barely scrape out alive, and you’re scared of what? The fact that your life isn’t gonna remain this complete tragedy you’ve cultivated where you wind up dead from all the weight you carry? I oughta smack you one, man.” Foggy leaned back in his chair for a short pause, “You never thought you’d get your turn; you thought you’d be alone forever, well too bad, champ. Somebody willing to put up with all your bullshit caught up to you instead, (well, somebodies, plural, really), but anyway! Suck it up Matt, you’re happy and actually in a healthy situation for once. Deal with it, dumbass.” Matt fidgeted a bit. He sighed again. “It just feels a little too real, you know?” “Oh my god. Excuse me, Mister “I’ve banged at least two international assassins, one of whom is an AVENGER” Murdock, I didn’t guess getting married to two ex-Thunderbolts, one of whom is a shapeshifting SPACE ALIEN, would be too real. You know, you are so fucking allergic to domesticity I’m surprised you didn’t go into anaphylactic shock when they proposed. And you even said yes, you weirdo! You were bouncing off the walls for a week.” Foggy pinched his nose. This wasn’t a new dance they did, but it never got easier. “Isn’t Ed taking care of the planning and stuff?” Matt replied quietly, “Yeah, he’s been been taking care of it, but I still don’t know what to expect. He’s been super tight-lipped about some of it, but he’s been letting me know when things are done and when he wants my opinions. I still have no idea what it’s going to look like.” “Of course you don’t, dummy, did you forget you were blind?” Foggy let that hang in the air for a moment, then the two friends had a good chuckle about it. “Listen, I’m telling you right now you better bring him some flowers, your ass, and like, a jug of protein powder or whatever that meathead likes tonight. And you better keep doing that at least once a week until the wedding; you don’t deserve him.” Foggy went back to his work, his last statement unequivocally non-negotiable.

“You’re right Foggy, I don’t deserve them. Funny how life works out, I guess”.

“Funny how your life works, Mattie. I swear man, you may have lived in Hell’s Kitchen all your life but I’m pretty sure you never lived a single day on Planet Earth.”

Matt sat with that thought for a moment, listening to the light rain hitting the office window.

“Thanks, Foggy.”

“No problem, man.”

“I’m gonna go grab a coffee” Matt said, pulling on his overcoat.

“Catch you later, Mattie.”

The coffee mug Foggy handed to Matt earlier, still mostly full, vibrated slightly on Matt’s desk as the door to the Law Offices of Nelson & Murdock closed shut.

[nautiscarader]

Six Ways from Sunday Sex (Marathon Sex) Love Square. Marinette and Adrien try to fuck in every room in the Agreste mansions in various combinations of civilian and super hero identities. From Making out and feeling each other up in the bedroom to fucking each other up against the window to give all of Paris a view.

Oooh, I’m liking this Sunday Six Sex thing. Good job anon, you might have started something GOOD.

(Ao3)

=============

- Kitty... We-We shouldn't be doing it here...

Ladybug spoke, hiding her moans, as Chat Noir kissed her neck, slowly drifting down. She wouldn't mind his caresses, if not for the fact that they were in the mansion of Adrien Agreste, who would graciously give them an audience soon . And yet, she couldn't find herself able to stop her lover from advancing his kisses that soon transformed into proper groping and massaging her body. To her horror, Ladybug realised that her body was responding to his demands, as her hand wandered to find a bulge between his legs.

As Chat pressed her against the marble, she let out a moan into his mouth, and when his tail coiled around them and the column, she knew they will cause a scandal soon.

================

- What? We're in the kitchen, aren't we suppose to eat here?

Chat Noir dived back underneath Marinette's apron, forcing her to tighten her grip on the counter.

- Ch-Chat! - she cried, biting her lip

Honestly, she didn't even know how did he find her here. One moment she was commissioned to make birthday cake for Adrien Agreste, next thing she knew, her lover pops out of nowhere and pins her to the fridge for a quickie. And the worst thing was, she couldn't refuse.

With his tongue lapping against her sex and delving between her folds, Chat was having a banquet, as a whole day of work made his girlfriend more than pent-up and eager for any sort of caresses. With each lick and kiss, Marinette rose just an inch above the counter, until she coated Chat's face with a glaze of her cum when her body gave in to the pleasure.

- O-Okay, Chat, n-now you have to g-g-

But Marinette shrieked when she saw Chat dragging his claw through the pristine layer of cream she *just* finished putting onto the cake.

- What? He could lose a few kilograms.

===========

 - Aah! Aah! Aah! Mon-Monsieur Agreste!

Marinette tried to lower her voice, already silenced by the sound of the washing machine, though the strength with which her master fucked her made the basket of laundry underneath her rattle against the shelves. She knew that soon the washing cycle will end and one other maid would come down here and find her, folded in half, with her legs swung onto Adrien Agreste’s shoulders. But there was much more pressing matter.

- I-I’m not-You’re not-What if- she stuttered between each thrusts - Then you will give me beautiful, blonde-haired babies

Adrien Agreste replied and sunk deeper into her, and her deeper into the laundry basket, her pussy tightened around him, sealing their union.

=============

Adrien could only hear one thing in his vast, empty library: the sound of his chair creaking underneath his random, erratic moves. Biting on the hem of his shirt, this is all he could do to withstand Lady Noire's challenge of staying silent while she loved him with her mouth. Oh, how she would love to fill the room with unabashedly erotic, slurping noises, as she slobbered all over Adrien's cock. But she made the rules, and she had to find other way of her tongue and mouth to caress his manhood, without smacking or kissing.

Her tongue ran across his exposed head, collecting salty droplets of precum that were forming, twitching with each pass. She gently pressed her lips against his tip to slip him inside her mouth without risking any sound. She repeated the same motion, waiting to strike her final blow, as her tongue brushed his slit.

The chair creaked again as Adrien's body stiffened, yet he did not make a sound, as he threw his head back. And soon, the loudest sound in the room were deep, guttural noises of Lady Noire swallowing his potent load, one stream at a time.

Until she realised how much was it and that she needed to take a breath.

She gasped, and as the last jet of cum shot her face, she yelped, hearing Adrien's victorious sigh. She was now on the ground, covered in cum, he was still hard, and she just lost.

==========

- Mhm, that's how I've always imagined our wedding night...

Marinette looked into the eyes of her lover, hidden behind his polka-dor mask, as he emerged from between her breasts. And yet, a moment later, he was kissing her again, pressing her into the big, comfy bed she now owned as well. Mister Bug continued his kisses, undoing the delicate pieces of her lingerie, until Marinette was naked, eager to start their marriage.

He reached her lower lips, and with each minute of his sensual foreplay, she was getting closer to her bliss, strengthened by the fact that they were doing it in the rich, opulent mansion they now had for themselves. She threw her head into the pillows and screamed his name, and found herself tasting her own juices on her lips, as he moved up, eager to continue.

- Do you have... - I got my lucky charm. - Mister Bug showed her the polka-dot-covered condom, and proceeded to clad his cock. - Good - Marinette spoke in low, alluring voice - Don't you worry, one day you will get to use your power of creation on me...

=========

- Come on, Adrien, do it! I-I want them to see!

Ladybug's needy, demanding moan, so different from her sweet voice awoken something in her boyfriend, who tightened his grip on her hips and pressed her body against the vast windows of the conference room. Underneath them was a promenade, filled with hundreds of people, walking towards the Eiffel Tower, and the young couple just proudly presented themselves to them.

The glass against Ladybug's face was hazed due to her panting, so she had to wipe it clean, just to ensure the people of Paris would see the grimace on her face as Adrien Agreste fucked her silly. The smaller window above them was open and she was hoping the citizens hear loud and clear every single plea she was giving to her lover.

- Fuck me! Rut me! I'm-I'm yours, Adrien Agreste! Make everyone know that!

And as his hand slid over her sex and toyed with her clit, her knees bend when her orgasm rolled through her body and she let out a wail that echoed with each dose of cum Adrien pumped inside her. Before their visions went white, they each saw a few people turning around, curious about the high-pitched cry, meaning her plan worked.

For the next, long minute, she let their joined bodies rock against each other, until she gave Adrien one last command to finish their lewd show. Though his legds were weak, he stepped back, parting their bodies, only so people could see the steady trickle of cum spilling from her twitching pussy. And when that ended, the two collapsed on the carpet, laughing and kissing.

- Can you imagine if Alya was there? She'd be having a field day. - "Protector of Paris an exhibitionist!" "Ladybug and Adrien Agreste openly make love for hundreds of people to see!", Ladybug giggled imagining what would have happened if the windows they were making love against weren't darkened.

She crawled on top of him and joined her lips in long, soothing kiss.

- Thank you, Adrien. - she spoke and stood up. - Pleasure is all mine, my lady.

He helped her get up, handed her a paper towel to clean their mess, but Ladybug was already ahead of him, putting on her costume, much to Adrien's confusion.

- Wait, shouldn't you-

But Ladybug has already opened the window, stood on the sill and jumped onto her yo-yo in the broad daylight, mere minutes after her orgasmic scream reached out. And knowing that some people will make the connection made her all giddy.  

[mirraculous]

Ugh. Wholesome, quality content

Miraculous Ladybug S3 | Ep 17 | I’ve always wanted to do this.

[dailymlgifs]

Lady Noire and Mister Bug versus Reflekdoll

[lnc2]

Ladynoir #5 for the kiss ask please? 👀

death by a thousand cuts

Prompt: Ladynoir, a kiss where it doesn’t hurt

AO3

She came to when he slammed into her.

A blur of red and black and blonde, Marinette felt arms clutching her tightly.  Suited hands ran over her hair, her hips, her back as Chat Noir– no, Mister Bug – tried and failed to find something wrong with her.

“Chat,” She murmured, not even bothering to try and pull away from his frantic ministrations.  “Chat, I’m okay.”

Her head hurt something fierce and there was a disturbing gap in her memory.  One moment she’d been crying in the bathroom stall over Lila’s latest attacks on her character and the next she was being cradled in her partner’s arms on a back alley fire escape.

“My lady, Marinette, thank god, thank god.” Chat croaked into her hair.

It didn’t take a Ladybug to realize what had happened.  Horror, quick, and guilt, sharp, stabbed through her as the reality of the situation crashed down.  There was only one explanation for Mister Bug and her memory gap.

She’d fucked up.  She’d fucked up so bad.

“Ch-at,” She whispered and his arms tightened around her.  The familiar beeping of her earrings rang out and she knew he only had a few minutes before he transformed back.  “Chat I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He said, shaking them both.  “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault.  Marinette, I– I’m…” His voice broke off on a sob and she slowly slipped her arms around his back, returning his embrace.

“Was it really bad?”

Her words fell in the space that wasn’t between them.  Chat’s rumbling purr, self-soothing, vibrated against her chest.

“Did– did anyone else… Chat do they know?”

Here he managed a quiet no and Marinette laughed, tears of relief slipping from her eyes.  Her partner, eyes green and so, so human stared down at her, tears building up like reflecting pools.

“I think,” He cleared his throat, tried to smile.  “I think Lila won’t be fucking with you again though.”

“Th-that’s something,” She murmured, voice quivering as the shock slowly passed leaving her a shaking mess in Chat’s arms.

She’d been akumatized.  Chat knew who she was. She’d failed.

Oh god, what would Tikki say?

“Chat,” She said, voice cracking.

“Shh, no, buginette, no.” He said and she realized she didn’t need to say anything. He placed a kiss, warm and lingering against her forehead, not moving even as her earrings gave its final warning, as if he could dispel her doubts at the source.

Marinette closed her eyes against the warm, pink light that suffused him and she found herself burying her face not in familiar leather but soft cotton.  Bare arms held her tightly as the boy behind the mask rocked her gently in the fading afternoon light, letting her fall apart, ready to put her back together.

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Together With Fruit Ch. 9 (Snippet)

Omgomgomg I actually finished something omg

Obviously this is not the full chapter, but it’s a pretty major chunk of it, and because I’m just so proud of myself and happy that I actually got something I set out to write forever ago FINISHED, I am posting this snippet here as a one-shot (it’s...more than a snippet really, it’s like 4000+ words, and it’s mostly unedited so...ye’ve been warned lol)

Word Count: 4199 (yikes)

Enjoy! Hopefully I’ll have the rest of the chapter finished within the next week or so!

“We’re finally nearing the Grand Line…” Nami muttered, pointing at a spot on the map. “It looks like the only way into it is through Reverse Mountain here.”

“Reverse Mountain?” Hazel murmured, peering over the girl’s shoulder at the point where the seas intersect.

“What a pain. Can’t we just sail straight through it?” Zoro groaned, glaring from where he sat leaning against the rail. Sanji shook his head.

“Nope, from what the geezer told me, that’s the only way boats can enter.”

“How come?” Usopp asked.

“Cause it’s supposedly dangerous.”

“But how come?!”

“I don’t know any more than that!” Sanji yelled, glaring at the sniper. 

“Boys, please…” Hazel scolded, trying to stop any fights before they could occur.

“The reason for that is-”

“Alright! I got it!” Luffy interrupted Nami, pointing at the map. “Then let’s head straight into it!”

“Are you even paying attention?!”

“But it sounds fun!” Luffy insisted, grin never wavering. “Plus it’d feel way better going straight into it!”

“Fun or not, I’d like to actually make it to the Grand Line before we die,” Hazel told him, side-eyeing her brother’s enthusiasm. Nami shared the sentiment.

“Talking to you makes me feel like I’m gonna go crazy…” the navigator whined, palm to her forehead in exasperation. Luffy soldiered on, ignoring the women’s concerns.

“Anyways, let’s stop at an island first and get meat! Meat! Meat!” Nami reached a finger out to point at a spot on the map, and Luffy and Hazel both peered closer at the paper.

“There’s a famous city on this island...Loguetown.”

“Loguetown?” Luffy asked, puzzled look on his face as he tried to think. “What? Is it famous for its meat?”

“Also known as the city of the beginning and the end…” Zoro chimed in, thoughtful look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s where Gold Roger, the former Pirate King, was born,” Hazel supplied, appearing somber, “and where he was executed.”

“The town where the King of the Pirates died...” Even Luffy’s voice was tame, contemplation clear in his eyes. Nami swung her gaze to meet his, sly smile finding its way across her cheeks.

“Wanna go?”

“Yeah! I wanna see it!” As he spoke, his voice grew more excited, though it never lost its reverence. “I wanna see the town where the man who got the One Piece - everything this world has to offer - was born and then died!” Luffy stood up, grin fixed firmly back in place. “Nami! Set sail for Loguetown!”

As the crew scrambled to set their course, Hazel smiled at her brother’s excitement, though she didn’t share the enthusiasm. She didn’t really harbor any opinions on the former Pirate King, good or bad; there just wasn’t enough information available on who the man truly was. She had asked her grandfather once, considering what she knew about his connection to Ace, but after hours of pestering the only thing he’d told her was “don’t believe everything you hear”. Other than that cryptic statement, she knew about as much as anyone else: he was born in Loguetown, he circumnavigated the entire world, then turned himself in (to her grandfather, no less), and was executed in his hometown. For someone who was so famous, you’d think there’d be more to know about him.

Hazel looked down at the notebook in her hand, blank since Shells Town except for the notes she’d taken. She wasn’t going to let Luffy fall into that same level of anonymity. Sure, the boy couldn’t care less about the fame; his views on being the Pirate King weren’t shared by most other pirates, though she found his ideals to be more admirable. What she really didn’t want to happen, though, was for her baby brother’s name to be smeared by the media, with nothing to counteract it.

Which meant she had a lot of work to do.

“Well, before we get to Loguetown, I have to get to work. Which means I’m shutting myself in my room until I’ve finished writing about our adventure so far!” Hazel stated for all to hear. She ignored the odd looks sent her way. “So no one bug me, ok?” When she’d received satisfactory nods, Hazel made her way to the girls’ room, shut the door, and plopped herself down at the writing desk. She ripped out her pages of notes so she could refer to them easily as she wrote, then opened to a blank page, her pencil hovering above the paper.

An hour later and the page was still blank.

Hazel’s pencil had moved, at least. It’d been set on the desk, balanced on her nose (a failure on her part, but no one could see it so she wasn’t too pressed), twirled between her fingers, tucked behind her ear as she stretched in her chair (and changed position at least three times; currently she had her feet on the back of the chair with her head leaning on the desk). She’d doodled little pictures on her note pages; tiny flowers and crude renditions of her crewmates (note to self: hide these so Nami doesn’t see). There’s a reason she hadn’t decided to illustrate this book.

Another hour later and her legs hurt from how much she’d been bouncing them. The page remained blank, her mind void of ideas, and her eyes were fixed on the picture frame hanging on the far wall. Maybe some food would help? She didn’t think she ate much at breakfast…

As Hazel made her way on deck, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Nami was lounging in the sun on the top deck, being served some fancy drink from their newest member. Zoro was, surprise, napping beneath the mast, his swords propped in his lap. Luffy sat on the other side of the ship, watching Usopp practice with his slingshot. Oh, that could be fun!

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Hazel asked, sneaking up behind the sniper, causing Luffy to laugh at the boy’s frightful shriek. “Oops! Sorry, Usopp!” He just glared at her in return.

“Usopp’s practicing his slingshot! See? We set up some targets against the other side of the deck, he’s really good!”

“Well, you see Luffy, I’ve been using a slingshot for at least 25 years,” Usopp boasted, ignoring the fact that he was only 17. “Which of course makes me an expert sniper!”

“25 years, huh?” Hazel snarked. “Well, mister “expert”, whaddaya say to a little contest? The closer to a bullseye gets you more points. Whoever gets the most points wins.”

“Uhh, ok, Hazel. But where are you gonna get a slingshot?” Hazel just pointed to Luffy. Specifically his arms. “Hey, now, wait a minute! You can’t use him!”

“Why not?” Hazel and Luffy asked, both with blank looks on their faces. The sniper spluttered.

“Because-! He’s not-! And you-!”

“Ok, look - we’re not going for power here, just accuracy, so it’ll still be a fair contest. And we’ll use the same ammo, ok?” She left no room for him to argue back, immediately grabbing one of the pellets from his hand and positioning her brother. Usopp rolled his eyes behind her, but sidled up next to the two, aiming his own slingshot at the first target.

“Ready...aim...fire!” Usopp let the pellet fly, smacking the target right in the center.

“Hey, nice job Usopp! But I’m gonna tie it up right here!” Hazel ribbed, tying Luffy’s fingers together to form a sling. She pulled them back, tongue poking out between her teeth as she aimed carefully. When she felt confident in her position she nodded, waiting for Usopp to give the signal, and then let go.

The target shattered to pieces.

“Oh fuck-!”

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!” Nami’s shrill voice called, causing all three to wince.

“Luffy did it!” Hazel immediately yelled while Usopp checked the ship for damage.

“No I didn’t!”

“Now, Luffy, you know you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not-!”

“ENOUGH!” Nami yelled again, interrupting the siblings. “I don’t care who did it, you’re just lucky the ship didn’t get damaged! You and you-” she pointed to Usopp and Luffy “-clean this up! And you!” Nami pointed at Hazel, making the older woman feel suddenly small. “You’re supposed to be writing right now! Not breaking things!”

“Well...you see...the thing is…” Hazel trailed off as Nami continued to glare at her. Huh. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of this. “I was hungry…?”

“Then ask Sanji-kun for a snack and get back to work. You told us not to bother you and we’re listening, take advantage of that!” At Hazel’s huff Nami smiled. “If you’d like, you can sit in the tangerine grove. I find it very relaxing when I need to focus.”

“Hmm...a change of scenery may be helpful. Thanks, Nami,” Hazel smiled, rolling her neck. “I better go bug Sanji.” But Nami held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! You go sit, I’ll get it. I don’t want you to get distracted again.” The orange-haired girl walked away without another word, and Hazel was forced at that point to just listen to her. She made her way to the upper deck, finding a nice spot under the trees to nestle in. She reopened her notebook to the still blank page, and tapped her pencil against her chin as she tried to focus. The breeze up here was nice, as well as the sounds of her crewmates (Luffy and Usopp had made a game out of cleaning up her mess). The smell of tangerines wafted over her, muddying her senses. One of her curls was tickling her forehead.

She’d made zero headway by the time Sanji appeared with a snack. 

“Hazel-chwan!~ I’ve brought you a plate of delicious sandwiches, and a fresh glass of cabernet sauvignon,” the man said, brandishing a platter on one hand and a glass of deep red liquid in the other. She looked to the glass curiously. Despite having practically lived in a bar half her life, she’d never actually tried wine. Her alcohol tended to be of a rougher variety.

“Oh, yeah, alcohol. That’ll help,” Hazel muttered, hoping Sanji didn’t think her rude. For all she knew, it would get the creative juices flowing, so to speak. “Thank you, Sanji.” She smiled at the cook, his feet practically floating off the ground in happiness. He turned to leave her, and Hazel tentatively took a sip of the wine...only to immediately cringe when the bitter liquid hit her tongue. She glanced around in panic, hoping the blond didn’t see, and snuck the glass behind her back, hidden under the trees. “Ooh! Sanji, wait up!” she called, wine forgotten as she grabbed her plate and ran after him.

“Yes, my love?” Sanji asked, twirling around to gaze at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“I just realized that I never asked about what happened at the Baratie! After we left?” The cook’s expression had switched to confusion at her question. “In fact,” she continued, following him into the galley, “I don’t actually know that much about you. Tell me, what’s your dream? Your motivation? Your tragic backstory? Spare me no detail!”

For the first time since they’d met, Sanji wasn’t looking at her with adoration. In fact, he almost looked a little scared. His eyes darted around for half a second while she pulled out her best pout, gray eyes shining like a puppy begging for table scraps. Later, she’d chide herself for being so mean. After all, she used to practically torture Ace with that expression. But for now, she needed answers.

“Well…” Sanji started, pulling himself together before all the blood rushed out of his nose. “I am merely a humble sea cook, mademoiselle. I fought valiantly for my former home, and for the chance to gaze upon your lovely visage once again.” He flourished into a low bow.

“Uh huh,” Hazel chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she raised a brow. “Definitely humble.” Sanji rose back to standing, an easy grin in place at their shared humor. “Come on, lover boy. Sit with me awhile and tell me a story.”

The two sat and talked for a time, Hazel’s pencil scratching across the pages of her notebook as Sanji divulged all the details he felt comfortable sharing: how Luffy had bartered with Zeff for his freedom, the way he’d swatted projectiles with a single kick. She had a feeling he may’ve been embellishing his actions a bit, but having seen the way he’d toppled part of a building at Arlong Park, she knew it wasn’t all bluster.

He told her of Pearl, the man who’d covered himself in armor, only to lose his mind (and catch fire, apparently) at the first drop of blood. How Gin, the man he’d helped, had taken the old man hostage, and how he’d been willing to die to save his mentor’s dream. Hazel filed away that note for later, planning to ask about the clear devotion Sanji had for the old man, even if the blond tried to hide it behind snark.

She tried not to laugh when Sanji told her Luffy destroyed part of the ship. From what he was telling her, it was actually a brilliant stroke on Luffy’s part, and definitely contributed to Sanji’s outlook on the situation; but the way the blond’s curly brow furrowed over his eyes at the memory was, in her opinion, hilarious. 

“So, wait,” Hazel started, pausing Sanji’s tale of his fight with Gin. “How did you come to the Baratie in the first place? Zeff isn’t your father, is he? Why so devoted to preserving his dream?”

Discomfort crossed the cook’s face, as it had earlier, but whether it was his dedication to please the woman in front of him, or because he’d already come this far, he gifted her with the reason. “He saved my life,” was the simple answer. The follow-up nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

Hazel reached across the table, covering his hand with her own, and she sent him a soft smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and she allowed him to turn away to light a cigarette; she even grabbed the ashtray off the back shelf for him.

Just as they were about to continue, the door to the galley swung open, a rubbery body bouncing its way inside. “Sanji!! Food!” Luffy yelled, head turning frantically before his eyes finally settled on the cook.

“You just ate, you damn animal!” The cook scolded, and the somber mood was broken as Hazel burst into laughter.

“But I’m hungry! Food!”

“I’m busy!” Hazel took that moment to step in.

“It’s alright, Sanji. I can get the rest from you later. If you don’t start dinner soon, we may not have a ship to sail on anymore,” she laughed, drawing Luffy’s attention. The boy leaped onto the bench in front of her, taking Sanji’s place, and glancing at the notebook for a second without reading.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? Whaddaya need Sanji for?”

“He was telling me about your fight with Don Krieg, since I missed it.”

“Oh! I can tell you! There was a boom! And a woosh! And then I went ‘Gum-Gum Bazooka’! And then there was poison gas, but we’re fine, and then everything went boom boom boom boom! And then I got poked a lot! And then-” Hazel tuned out as her brother continued telling her all about the fight with as little detail as possible. Sanji shot her a confounded look over their captain’s shoulder, and the girl replied with a nonchalant shrug. When Luffy finally finished, he looked to his sister expectantly, proud grin wide across his face.

“Thanks Luffy, I’ll make sure to write that down.” The boy nodded, then looked back at her notes from Sanji’s story.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done!” Hazel flinched, grimacing into her palm.

“Yes and no…” Luffy just looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and Hazel gave a heavy sigh. “To be honest, Luff...I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Duh.”

“Wow, I never thought about that,” Hazel deadpanned. “And get your finger out of your nose!” As Luffy stuck his tongue out at her, something struck her. Hazel’s eyes widened, an invisible energy urging her hand to move across the paper. “Actually, Luffy, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

She vaguely heard him say something in agreement, but her mind was too focused on the idea it had. Start at the beginning...she was surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier; after all, she’d only just told the story a week ago.

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

Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town. Even when pirates had settled their sails at its docks the year previous, the villagers had yet to deal with much past the occasional bandit or two. Our lives had been much the same, short as they were; filled with fun and laughter and play. Then one day, the stuff of legends became real, and peace would be known no more.

The sun had shown brightly that morning, though my brother and I had already been up for hours. We always had trouble sleeping the closer to Shanks’ departure. In only a short time, the red-headed man had wormed his way into our lives, and our hearts, and my brother especially was determined to join him this time.

So it was that we stood on the deck of the Red-Hair Pirate’s ship, the hustle and bustle of supplies and crates being loaded around us. A few of the men were singing songs - definitely inappropriate considering the children in their company - but we’d already spent the last seven years in a bar. There was nothing in those songs we hadn’t heard before.

I had been listening to Benn Beckman’s tale of their last voyage when Shanks’ voice had called our attention to the figurehead. Standing atop the dragon’s maw, my brother Luffy stood glaring down at our pirate friends. Unfortunately, none of us had taken his declaration of strength seriously. Not until he drove the knife beneath his eye.

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

The paragraphs flew quickly out of her hand, the day in question clear in her mind. Hazel took a moment to shake out her wrist, feeling stiff as she read over her work so far. She liked it, she really did. Now to keep up this momentum.

The door opened once again, and Usopp and Nami wandered in, talking about something she couldn’t hear. Hazel was still glaring at the page, chewing her cheek as she thought about how to word her next sentence. She heard Sanji mention dinner would be ready soon, Luffy’s excitement sounding through the room, then Usopp’s hiss for him to be quiet.

“Don’t distract her! She’s scary when she’s mad!” the boy whimpered out, much to Luffy’s amusement.

“No she’s not!” he laughed, drawing the sniper’s ire.

“You didn’t think that when she made you take a bath!” Hazel stifled a snort.

“Speaking of which,” Nami chimed in, holding a hand to her nose. “How long ago was that?”

“Actually, Luffy, you are due for one. Zoro too,” Hazel said, looking up at her surprised crewmates. What, did they think she couldn’t hear them at all? “Why don’t you go wash up before dinner. Please?” Luffy groaned, glaring at the navigator, but dutifully made his way to the bathroom. Despite what he said, he didn’t want to push his sister. Again.

Hazel took that moment to stand up, stretching her back with a loud pop, grabbed her notebook, and made her way outside to tell their grungy swordsman his bath was after dinner. She couldn’t see him at first when she stepped outside, but after glancing around for a moment, she finally spotted him. She blinked when she saw his bare back, mesmerized for a moment at the way the muscles rippled as he did push-up after push-up. A second later, she blinked the distraction away, and walked down the steps to the grass-haired man.

“Hey, your turn for a bath after dinner,” she told him, practically hearing him grit his teeth at the notion. “Dinner’s actually almost done, by the way, so you may wanna wrap it up here.”

“Not done,” he grunted, prompting her to raise a brow in his direction.

“Well find a way to be done. We’re hungry, and you’re sweaty.”

“If I’m gonna get stronger, I can’t cut training short. I need more weight.” His gray eyes swung up to hers, and Hazel got the distinct sense he was sizing her up.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She regretted asking the instant she said it. Zoro gestured to his back. His extremely sweaty back.

“Climb on.”

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating here?” She crossed her arms, trying to decide if she needed to hit him for calling her fat or not. She caught him rolling his eyes.

“You’re all muscle, it’s heavier. Climb on.” Hazel chewed her lip, weighing the pros and cons. Then, deciding she had nothing to lose except her hygiene (and really, she could do with a bath herself), she stepped closer to him, cautiously sitting down when he paused for her. He reached his arm around, causing a startled squeak as he adjusted her position, then he resumed his training, a new strain in his breath.

While he worked, Hazel puzzled once again over her notebook. Disappointment flowed through her as she stared at the four lone paragraphs, the struggle for where to take the story next staying her hand. She’d gotten nothing done today, and it was difficult not to take it to heart.

“What are you sighing about up there?” her cushion grunted below her. Hazel rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him by answering anyway.

“I’ve been working on this all day, and somehow I have nothing to show for it.” Zoro was silent except for his heavy breathing, but for some reason she pushed on. “What kind of record-keeper am I? What kind of storyteller can’t tell a damn story? I don’t even have to make it all up, it’s all stuff that happened…” A puff of air escaped her as her eyes began to sting. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

She hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, and was startled when her chair suddenly stood up. She cried out as she fell, but before she could hit the floor, Zoro’s arms came out to steady her. She looked up at him in shock, affronted at the small glare he sent her way. “Read it out loud,” he said, pointing to the little book in her hands.

“Eh?!” Hazel shrieked, appalled at the very notion of any living being actually hearing her work out loud.

“Read it out loud,” Zoro said again, shrugging his shirt back on. “Then I can tell you if it’s shitty.”

“No way! It’s not ready for human consumption yet!” she yelled, glaring as he sat below the mast. “Besides, who are you to tell me if it’s shit? You wouldn’t know good literature if it waved a sword at you and said ‘boy, speak your name’!” Zoro rolled his eyes at the reference, but leveled her with a steady gaze as it dawned on her the trick he was trying to pull. “Stop it, it’s mine. Why should I share it with you?”

“Because I like the way you tell stories.” He said it so simply, like it didn’t carry nearly the weight for him that it did for her. Hazel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Something held her gaze on his, something she couldn’t possibly name.

“So how does me reading it aloud help me write it?” Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could even hear it.

“Just write it how you’d say it,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And when he said it like that, it did seem obvious, and Hazel could kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew it, she felt herself nodding, sitting beside him beneath the sail.

“Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town….” she began, reading from the beginning, and surprising herself when her voice continued past the last paragraph. He’d heard the story before, but still Zoro sat, listening with rapt attention. Her voice slowed as she wrote, not allowing herself to forget what she’d said, what phrases she used that flowed from her mouth like water.

At one point Hazel glanced beside her, surprised to see the swordsman’s eyes shut. She let out a sigh, finishing her sentence, but not continuing on. She found herself rolling her eyes at the sleeping swordsman, irked that he apparently found her so boring.

“You stuck again?”

Hazel turned to him again, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes. She let out a half chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, before diving into the next paragraph.

It was only Luffy’s call of “Dinner!!” that finally drew the two inside.

[galahadwilder]

Unwise

Ch. 2: In Which Too Many People Turn Patrols Into Dates

Happy birthday @alexseanchai! You wanted more Unwise? Here you go!

*

Convincing Fu to let her bring out the other Miraculi on a semi-permanent basis had been a chore in and of itself. Feast had proven the depth of his paranoia—though, to be fair, it’s not technically paranoia if people are actually out to get you—and she wasn’t prepared to lose Tikki a second time. He’d refused to allow her to bring out more Miraculi, until she’d forcefully reminded him that A. she is a full-fledged Guardian now, he’d said that himself, and B. She, a child, is the one on the front lines while he hides. (She hates bringing that up, because she knows why he’s doing it, but it was that or go insane.)

Eventually, he’d relented, though he’d let her take only the ones who’d already proven themselves. Which was fine, it wasn’t like she was planning on doing any recruiting anytime soon.

She’d been planning to hand out all of the Miraculi herself, as usual, but as soon as she’d had them in her hands she’d paused, reconsidered. Chat was right—trying to do everything herself has been driving her insane. She already knows that, if she goes down, Chat can take the earrings and Mister Bug it up—or, in an emergency situation, just Cataclysm a butterfly and wait for her to get back up—so there’s a little bit of the weight off there. But the fact is, he was originally never supposed to know the identities of any of the backup, and if she were to have gone down in that situation he’d have been left to continue the fight alone in a way that she never would. The thought makes her want to vomit.

And she can’t deny that the way Chat’s face lit up when she asked him to help her distribute the Miraculi had done something funny in her tummy. Not love, of course, nor attraction—absolutely not that, stop laughing Tikki—but something. She’d laid out all of the Miraculi Fu had let her take on their favorite rooftop, then, after a moment’s consideration, handed him the Horse, the Bee, and the Dragon (she’d briefly passed her hand over the snake, but she saw the way he tried to suppress a shudder; curious as his reaction made her, she knew she couldn’t let herself think about what that was about, lest she learn something she shouldn’t).

She picked up the Fox, the Snake, the Turtle, and the Mouse, then paused, thought, made a decision. “You already know who the mouse is,” she said. “If you ever need an illusionist, and I’m not there to help you...” She held up the foxtail necklace. “This one goes to the Ladyblogger.”

Chat froze. “My Lady,” he said, the Dragon choker dangling between his claws, “are you... sure I should know this?”

She nodded. “You said yourself, I can’t keep doing this alone,” she said. “You’re my partner.”

There’d been no big meeting; someone might’ve noticed that Multimouse wasn’t there, and that would lead to questions she doesn’t want to answer. She’d made a list of reasons why, but surprisingly, Chat had asked for none of them, simply agreeing with her out of hand.

The whole thing is going swimmingly, and yet she can’t help feeling guilty about how she’d arranged the patrols. She’d insisted on not letting Rena Rouge and Carapace patrol together, since there was no way either of them could tear away from each other in a non-emergency situation, so for the first two few nights she’d rotated them through everyone but each other, just to keep from ill-advised makeouts. And yet, here she is, having intentionally arranged herself on patrol with Adrien...

God, she’s a hypocrite.

She can honestly say that after a week of letting other holders cover patrols, she’s more rested than she’s been in a while. But she’s done so many stupid things to spend time with Adrien, it’s not like one more will make a difference at this point, right? And at least this way she’s doing something productive with it. She hopes. If she can, you know, actually hold it together around him to do anything.

“Tikki,” she groans into her hands, her elbows propped on her desk. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.” The cursor blinks on the anonymous Google schedule she’s been sharing with the team, waiting for her to confirm the time of her first patrol as Multimouse. Her first patrol with Adrien. She wonders, idly, what he’ll choose for his name.

Tikki sighs from her spot on Marinette’s pincushion, rolling a chocolate chip between her paws. “I don’t know,” she says. “Master Fu had very good reasons not to let the rest of us out of the box, but you also have very good reasons.” She looks up at Marinette, her blue eyes shining with compassion. “I do worry about you.”

“I’m just happy to be out and about,” Mullo says, climbing onto Marinette’s phone and poking the screen with delight. “So much new technology! I didn’t get to see this last time you wore me.”

“Not that,” Marinette says, dropping her hands onto the desk—then she tilts her head. “Well, yes that, but not what I’m asking about right now.” She sighs, staring at the calendar block. “Am I being... selfish, with this schedule?”

Tikki purses her lips, then turns the chocolate chip on its side and starts rolling it back and forth on the desk beneath one paw, staring at it pensively.

“Tikki?” Marinette whispers.

Tikki grimaces. “You know you’re not supposed to use your powers for personal gain,” she says. “I’ve told you before.”

Marinette swallows. “I remember,” she whispers.

Tikki tilts her head. “On the other hand,” she says, “this might be more practical than you think.”

Marinette blinks. “What?”

“If he is going to be a full-time member of the team, it might help to acclimate yourself to his presence?” Tikki says, a small smile spreading across her face. “We wouldn’t want you to start tripping over your words in the middle of combat.” She flings the chocolate chip straight up, then launches her tiny body from the desk, swallowing it in a single gulp in a manner reminiscent of the poster for Jaws.

“Hey!” Marinette protests. “I did fine last time!”

“You said one sentence and you had to use Sass to practice it eight times first,” Tikki says with a smug grin, crossing her arms.

Marinette bites her lip, then rolls her eyes. “You see how mean she is to me?” she says to Mullo.

“Hm? What?” the rat says, her head perking up and twisting back and forth. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by this...” Her turns back to the phone, where she’s been swiping between app pages with wide eyes. “Um, magic screen thing.”

Tikki giggles. “Not everything humans do is magic, Mullo.” She flits around to Marinette’s eye level. “Marinette. The day I told you not to use your powers for personal gain? That was our third time out. I didn’t know you then. I do now.” She reaches out, laying her palm on Marinette’s cheek. “You’ve grown into a responsible and professional young woman, and Master Fu has selected you to be the next Guardian.” She floats back. “I trust your judgment. And besides, you deserve a break.” She gestures to the computer screen, where the calendar is still waiting, unfinished. “If this is what you want to do? Then you should do it.”

Marinette swallows as tears brim in her eyes. “I—thank you, Tikki,” she whispers.

“Of course,” Tikki says, zipping forward to hug Marinette’s cheek again. “I love you so much, Marinette.”

“I love you too,” Marinette says, cupping her Kwami to her cheek with her palm.

“Oh my Guardians!” Mullo sobs. “You—you two— you are...” She rolls over onto her back, letting out a tiny melodramatic wail. “Your friendship is so perfect!”

Tikki snorts, backing away from Marinette’s cheek. “Okay. Back down there, Squeakers.”

Marinette sets her jaw, looking at the screen. “So,” she says, “I’m doing this?”

Tikki nods. Mullo rolls back onto her stomach, looking back at her expectantly.

Marinette nods back. “I’m doing this,” she says, and presses her finger down on Enter.

*

This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake—

Sapis (who looks amazing in his costume, his gossamer half-cape floating off his back, furry cuffs on his wrists, black streaks in his carefully styled hair to resemble antennae—oh, she’s going to be gushing about this to Tikki later) is looking at her with eyes like the night sky, golden irises inset on black sclera, and she feels all the breath leave her body. She’s seen enough of Adrien’s patented “Soft Eyes” in candid shots from Alya that she thought she’d be immune, but nope, photographs have in no way prepared her for the real thing. Sweet Kwamis, she’s going to die and she hasn’t even said a word to him yet.

Say something, Ladybug, she tells herself. But under Sapis’ gaze, in Multimouse’s suit that she’s suddenly aware came out far more cute than her usual reassuringly minimalist design, she doesn’t feel like Ladybug, so when she opens her mouth, she only manages to squeak.

Nice, she thinks, mentally kicking herself. Well done. Very professional.

“H-hi!” she yelps. “Are you, um...” She grips her elbow, her free hand playing with the tail of the jump rope tied around her waist. “Queen Bee’s replacement?”

“Yep,” he says in an exaggeratedly deep voice. He takes a Superman stance, pressing his fists to his hips, and turns his eyes dramatically to look somewhere slightly behind her. It looks generally ridiculous, and he clearly knows it. “Sapis, at your service.”

“Sapis?” she says, squinting one eye, trying to remember if she knows what that means in Latin. Sagesse... that’s the same root, right? “Wisdom?”

His whole face lights up, and her heart leaps in her chest. “Old Latin pun,” he says. “Si sapis, sis apis.” He steps forward, holding out a hand. “If you’re wise? Be a bee.”

She stares at him, looking at his hand, then his face, then his hand, then his face. She has—she knows what she’s supposed to do here, but this is Adrien trying to introduce himself, and she knows it’s him, and he doesn’t know it’s her, and she has to get this impression exactly right. The joke is stupid, silly, it’s so very Chat Noir that she’s caught off guard and suddenly her chest is bubbling, she’s laughing, and oh god is he going to think that she’s laughing at him? Is he going to be disappointed? Is he going to be crushed? Oh Kwamis, is he going to hate her forever?

And then his eyes shut, and he giggles, pure and clear, and it’s just like that moment after the umbrella closed on her head. Lightning strikes in her heart all over again, and it’s everything she can do not to fall on her steadily reddening face.

Finally, he calms down, but when his golden-black eyes turn back to her he’s still beaming. “So,” he says, gesturing to her necklace, “Chat Noir tells me you’re really good with that thing.”

She reaches up, fingers it nervously. “I—pretty good, yeah.”

Sapis grins, hoisting his trompo. “Wanna show me what you’ve got?”

A slow, sly grin spreads across her face in answer as she reaches for her jump rope, the confidence building in her chest. This is familiar territory. This, she can handle. “You’re on, bee boy.”

Adrien wants to see what she can do? He won’t even know what hit him.

[ashtheshortstack]

make them learn - ch 3

Rating: T Ship: Adrinette (sorta) Chapter 3/3: followed the rules

Tags: Princess Justice AU, Akumatized Marinette, Bullying, One-Sided Reveal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter

Adrien hopped along the rooftops, scouring the city for his now akumatized partner. He was terrified for her well-being, as well as Lila’s. Though the girl was a total brat, he couldn’t help but worry that his lady would do something horrible to her. 

There was so much guilt swirling within him. If only he had really been there for her when Marinette needed him the most. How much pain had she been in for it to finally come to this? How long had Lila been harassing her and she had always been able to overcome the negative thoughts and feelings that came with being bullied like this? And he had catered to Lila! Told Marinette not to bother with exposing her because it wouldn’t do any good.

Some friend he was, huh? 

When he heard a scream, he spun quickly towards the sound as he was jared from his thoughts. Glancing over at the park, he finally spotted his target. There stood an entity in a deep purple, flowy dress, jet black hair flowing behind her in long pigtails. There was a sharp crown on her head with a purple jewel in the center. A black, inky mask covered her face where she normally adorned her spots. It made his heart twist to see her in such a state. She held a staff in her hand, pointing it towards Lila who cowered by a tree. 

Adrien tossed the yo-yo, hooking it on the tree and swinging himself over towards the two of them. 

“You deserve judgement,” the akumatized Marinette hissed. 

Lila laughed hesitantly, glancing around nervously. “C’mon Marinette, you can’t be this upset over something I did when I was akumatized, right? It wasn’t my fault.” 

“Marinette’s gone. I’m Princess Justice, and you’ve been asking for this for a long time.”  

Adrien had no idea what the weapon did, but it hissed menacingly as Princess Justice aimed it directly at Lila’s nose. Lila whimpered with a grimace as the weapon was waved in her face. 

“You will tell the truth .” 

Suddenly, Lila was glowing and Adrien took that as his cue. Oh, how he didn’t want to fight her. He just felt guilty more than anything. His poor Marinette… how could he let this happen to her? 

Swinging down from the tree, he pounced on Princess Justice, knocking her down to the ground. His palms rested on either side of her head as dull, grey eyes gazed up at him. There was so much sadness… an emptiness he never thought he’d see on Marinette, let alone his Ladybug. His heart ached in his chest. Quickly, he grabbed her palms and pushed them flat beside her head. 

“Marinette…?” 

She sneered at him. “There is no Marinette. Princess Justice is here to serve the people of Paris who should all learn the truth.” Princess Justice pushed back against him, rolling them over and slamming his palms to the ground. He grunted before gazing up at her as she loomed menacingly over him. 

Damn, no wonder he could never win against Ladybug. Marinette was strong as hell. 

It would be kinda hot if his life wasn’t at stake. 

“Careful, Insect. If you get in my way, then I may have to reveal your identity to the world.” 

Adrien felt his eyes widen at that. “What?” 

Smirking, she glanced over at Lila. The girl had her palms over her mouth with wide eyes. He’d never seen Lila so stunned before. There was a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction swirling in his gut, but he had to ignore it. He was supposed to be the hero. 

But… he was here to save Marinette. Lila on the other hand, eh, not so much. 

Somehow, Adrien wasn’t at all shocked when he heard Alya’s surprised voice at the sight before her. Bless Nino… he was trying to pull his girlfriend away from the action, but she was clearly not giving up a chance to see this. For multiple reasons, obviously. Her best friend was akumatized and there was no Ladybug. There was Mister Bug instead, which he was pretty sure no one had ever seen before--aside from Juleka. 

“Marinette!” she cried. 

With the way Princess Justice glowered at her best friend, it was clear Marinette was not in there at the moment. And not too thrilled to see Alya sprinting towards them. 

“C’mon, girl! You’re better than this!” 

Adrien groaned as Princess Justice shoved his face into the dirt when she jumped to her feet. 

“What do you know!?” she hissed. “All you ever did was take Lila’s side! You never believed me!” 

Alya stepped back as if she’d been struck. “What’re you talking about?” 

Princess Justice snarled at Lila, snatching her by the wrist and shoving her towards their friends. “Why don’t you tell her, lying scum.” 

Lila, whose eyes were now glowing a deep purple, was under the influence of whatever Princess Justice’s powers were. But from the context clues Adrien had gathered, he figured it was a truth spell. 

“I lied,” Lila said. “I lied about having tinnitus. About knowing Jagged Stone and any other celebrities,” the girl began laughing. “And you know what? I don’t have a disease that makes me do it! I do it because it’s fun. People like me that way.” 

Jaw dropping, Alya gaped at her. “W-What?” 

“And, for whatever reason, Marinette here figured me out. She knew I was lying about my life. But I couldn’t let her out me, obviously,” Lila barked another laugh. “So, I had to get rid of her. I got akumatized on purpose twice to do just that. Oh, and I do know Ladybug. Because I hate her! And I only want to take her down. Well, her and Marinette. Adrien is mine . I just had to send Marinette a little reminder.” 

Alya trembled as her hands went to her mouth. Lila’s tyrant continued, growing more and more infuriating with each passing statement. Adrien could feel sick… He felt so wrong. Had he really failed his lady this much? She was suffering at the hands of this girl for so long. And he had brushed it off! 

He was seething at himself, but he needed this battle to be over. “Lucky Charm!” 

A sketch-pad fell into his hands. Glancing around, his brow pinched. “What am I…?” he suddenly remembered the last time he used the ladybug miraculous. His lady said he was a “straight-forward guy” meaning the answer was obvious and right in front of his face, unlike his lady’s convoluted schemes. 

“It’s not like I didn’t warn her,” Lila snickered before crossing her arms. “She and I had a great talk in the bathroom once. I told her that I would turn everyone against her and that Adrien would be mine. And if it weren’t for Adrien himself, my plan would’ve worked.” 

Princess Justice paused, looking at her victim in surprise. “Wait, what?” 

Lila rolled her eyes. “Adrien told me that I had to get you back into school after I got you expelled. He threatened to not be my friend anymore. Well, I think that’s what he meant. Either way, I had to prove my love to him, right? So, I told Mr. Damocles about that fake lying disease.” 

“Adrien… did that for me?” Princess Justice murmured, eyes widening slightly. Adrien blinked in surprise when there was a flash of blue in those dull irises. Suddenly, there was a butterfly framing her face. She clutched her head. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”   The butterfly shattered making him gasp. Did she just��? 

“I don’t need Hawkmoth. I don’t need a miraculous,” she growled. “I’m doing this my way!” She aimed the staff at Alya. “Do you see now, Alya!? All I ever did was try to tell you the truth. And Adrien was the only person who ever believed me!” Princess Justice cried. 

That was definitely Marinette. A Marinette who was still angry and had truth powers, but it was her nonetheless. How did she break the mental connection with Hawkmoth? And why hadn’t he just removed her powers when she went rouge? Was he planning something worse? 

“Marinette, I didn’t know!” 

Princess Justice strode up to her. “You thought I was jealous! That I was lying! It’s like you don’t even know me at all!” 

“ Please, Marinette. I never meant--” 

Quickly, Adrien wound the yo-yo around her waist and yanked it towards him. She didn’t come willingly, however. Princess Justice took a swing, knocking him in the jaw. Skidding backwards in the dirt, he groaned as he looked up. She was charging at him, those eyes grey and pained once again. There was the pang of pain in his heart again as he flipped backwards away from her attack. 

“Marinette,” he murmured as she took another swing, this time with her staff. He caught it between his hands. “I know you’re in there, Marinette. Come back to me, please.” 

She merely growled. “What do you know!? You never believe me either, Kitty!”  

Grimacing, he shot a look back at Alya and Nino, who were both still distracted by the Lila who was spewing her guts out to them, much to Alya’s continued horror. He loved his friends, but he had no idea that Alya had treated Marinette that way. That she hadn’t believed her and just assumed she was jealous. What an awful thing to do… Even after Marinette was right that Lila had framed her and gotten her expelled! And her best friend knew it too! 

So, thankfully, the fact that Mister Bug was Chat Noir was still a secret. For the moment, at least. 

He sighed. Tossing the yo-yo, it wrapped around her wrists, binding them in place. “I did believe you. I promise you, I did,” Princess Justice struggled against the binds, gritting her teeth as she pulled. Adrien held his ground, keeping her tied as he spoke. “I knew she was a liar, but I just didn’t realize how manipulative and cruel she was. U-Until Oni-Chan. When I fought Oni-Chan, then I realized that she would do anything to destroy yo--Ladybug. I’m sorry that people weren’t there for you like they should have been, Marinette! I’m sorry that telling Adrien your feelings was taken away from you! But you need to talk to him!” 

“What do you know!?” 

“I know everything! I know--I know how brave you are! I know how much you put everyone before yourself. I-I know how amazing you are, Marinette. I know that you’re creative, talented, selfless. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been bottling up inside,” he felt his voice wavering. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” he cracked. He tossed the sketch pad towards her. 

It opened to a page, showing a familiar doodle. The one he made for Marinette. 

Princess Justice froze, eyes going wide. The grey color of her eyes flashed back to that beautiful bluebell he’d grown to love. Gasping, she threw the staff down to the ground. Adrien watched in awe as she fell to the ground, collapsing in an emotional heep. Her hands went to her face as she sobbed. Her cries were loud and agonizing to listen to. 

Adrien grit his teeth, brows pinching as he listened to her finally break down. Listened to all the emotions fly out of her at once. How long had she bottled this? How long had Lila been tormenting her? 

Grabbing her staff, Adrien broke it over his knee. He snatched the butterfly with the yo-yo, purifying it and sending it off. He tossed the sketch pad into the air. 

“Miraculous Mister Bug!” 

 He wasn’t quite sure what happened with Hawkmoth… and he may never know. It seemed reasonable that Marinette would be strong-willed enough to defy Hawkmoth’s orders. It dawned on him then that she never demanded his miraculous a single time. Had she never been fully under Hawkmoth’s control? 

Shaking off his confusion, he scooped Marinette up in his arms. Her eyes were closed as her head lulled gently to the side. It must’ve taken a lot of energy to defy their enemy. Could it have drained her? He wasn’t sure, but he needed to get her out of here. 

“Wait!” Alya called as she ran up to him. “Who are you?” 

Adrien glanced around. “U-Uh, Mister Bug. I use the ladybug miraculous when the actual Ladybug can’t be here.” 

Alya crossed her arms, clearly not buying it. “Oh, really? How come I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I’ve worked before. Reflekdoll. I was there. That was your friend Juleka, right? Anyway, I’ve gotta get going.” 

“Wait, where are you taking her?” 

Sighing, he shook his head. “I just think it’d be best to get her away from everyone for now.” 

Alya hugged herself, glancing down at the ground as Nino wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, dude. Will you tell Marinette we’re sorry?” 

With a sad smile, Adrien nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” He shot a glare in Lila’s direction. “In the meantime, maybe you should put that journalism to good use and set some records straight, hm?” 

Alya looked back at Lila who was fleeing the scene now that the cure had freed her from Princess Justice’s powers. Lip twitching, her eyes hardened. Adrien said nothing as he shot the yo-yo to a nearby roof and repelled himself forward with Marinette in tow. He decided the best method would be to take her home. 

So, he landed on her terrance and detransformed. 

Tikki gave him a look. “You were a little reckless for a Ladybug.” 

He laughed hesitantly, ruffling his blond locks. “Sorry about that. I was just so desperate to save her.” 

“I know… Thank you, Adrien.” 

Giving the kwami a soft smile, he took out the earrings. As gently as he could, he pinched the miraculous back into her lobes. 

  o~o~o~o

  Adrien brushed a batch of raven locks behind her ear, making Marinette stir. Her eyes scrunched before blinking open. 

“A-Adrien…? What--What happened?” 

Gingerly, he helped her sit up. “You were akumatized.” 

Her eyes blew wide. “What?!” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he said as he hushed her. 

Marinette was so confused. She had no idea what had just occurred. Akumatized!? She’d been akumatized!? Her eyes flicked around her terrance frantically. “H-How did I get here?” 

“Um, a hero named Mister Bug?” 

Oh, right. She’d given Tikki the earrings to take to Chat Noir, right? But wait… why had she--oh. Oh, that’s right. Lila exposed her crush on Adrien to everyone. Lightly, she pushed Adrien away before curling in on herself. 

“I--I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you how I felt about you a long time ago. B-But I was so nervous and I couldn’t barely make sentences around you! Let alone confess! And--And I know you love someone else. And I know it’s probably Kagami which makes this so hard because you’re both my friends and I don’t want to lose either of you and--” 

“Woah, woah, woah, Marinette,” his gentle hands went on her shoulders. “Slow down. I-I’m not in love with Kagami.” 

Wait. 

What!?  

Her confusion must’ve been written all over her face as she gaped at him. Adrien gave her a small smile with a nervous laugh. 

“If you want me to be honest? I’ve been stupidly in love with Ladybug for a long time.” 

Marinette felt her cheeks heat. “L-Ladybug!?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, but that’s kind of stupid, right? I don’t even know her.” 

“NO! I-I mean, no way. That’s not stupid. You can’t help who you like, right?” 

Adrien chuckled at that. “Yeah, maybe not. But I… I realized after I found out how you feel about me that I--I think I could fall in love with you too, Marinette.” 

Did he…? Wait. Was he choosing her? Over Kagami? Over her own superhero persona? That wasn’t--no way. That wasn’t even possible, was it? 

Marinette almost short-circuited when he reached over and touched her hand. “I’d love to get to know you more, if you’ll let me. My, uh, my father won’t allow me to date right now. But maybe… in the future? If you can wait for me?” 

Nodding stupidly, she agreed. “Y-Yes! Of course.” 

The smile he gave her was so, so gentle. Her heart nearly melted at the sight. Adrien leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I had no idea what Lila was really doing to you. This--This was my fault. I kept telling you to brush it off, and in turn I almost got you expelled.” 

There was a flash of something in her mind. “Did… Did you get her to fix it?” 

“I did. I couldn’t let her do that to you.” 

Marinette yanked on the hand he was holding, tugging him into a hug. She buried her nose into his shoulder. “Thank you so much. And thank you… for believing me.” 

“I should’ve done more. I-I didn’t know she was harassing you.” 

Shaking her head, she nuzzled his neck. “No. You at least knew. You trusted me. You have no idea what that meant to me.” 

“Alya knows now. And I assumed the whole class will after today.” 

Marinette tilted her head in confusion, pushing him back at arms length. “What?” 

“Your power as an akuma was like a truth spell. Lila’s true colors came out, the maniacal laughing and everything. She spilled everything she did to you to Alya.” 

As shameful as it was, she felt relief wash over her. Finally, her best friend would believe her. Finally, it wouldn’t be chalked up to jealousy or an overreaction. This girl who’d been so mean to her for months would finally get what she deserved. Knowing how Lila ran from her problems, she doubted they’d even see the cunning girl again. Not that Marinette minded. She could go the rest of her life without seeing Lila Rossi ever again. 

“Oh, wow…” 

Smiling, Adrien stood and helped her to her feet. Marinette glanced down at their conjoined hands. God, she was going to spontaneously combust right there. How was this her life? And what rotten luck that Adrien wanted to be with her and his father had banned him from dating! 

She couldn’t make eye contact when he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll see you around, Marinette.” 

“Y-You too, Adrien.” 

As he detached from her, he gave a small salute before going down into her bedroom to leave. The gesture felt oddly familiar, but she brushed it off. Leaning onto the railing, Marinette glanced over to see her kwami hiding behind the plants. Tikki squealed, fluttering over and hugging Marinette on the cheek. 

“Oh! I was so worried!” 

Marinette cupped her kwami’s back. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Tikki. Did Chat Noir do a good job?” 

“Yep! He saved the day!” 

Humming, she smiled. “I’ll have to thank him.” 

It was then she saw her crime-fighting partner bouncing through the rooftops nearby. Was he coming to check on her? That was sweet of him. He paused, giving her a glance and waving. Marinette returned the wave before pausing. 

Wait. 

She touched the miraculous in her lobes.

How’d he give her earrings back…?

[toloveawarlord]

Pt. 2

Wow, to be honest, I was astounded by how well received part one was! Thank you so much for loving Alara as much as I do!

This took a while and the word count is nearly 3,000 so strap in for a long one. I struggled to find the perfect spot to end this one so it’s a bit longer than part 1.

Tagging: @plumpblueberry for always supporting me and @ihavenotfallenyet who asked to be tagged! ^_^

The cracks of thunder rattled the mansion with its monstrous noise, causing her chest to tighten with each boom, as if it stepped in time with the stomps of her stepfather growing ever closer. Any second he would appear, ripping her away from this place. Alara all but jumped into Arthur’s lap when the door was thrown open. Her small hands trembling as they clutched onto the sleeve of his jacket.

“There was no need to come through my window like that!” The irritation in his voice pointed to the other resident beside him that wore clothes she was not familiar with.

“Newt, old boy, you’ve given the girl a fright,” Arthur chastised with a grin to lighten the heavy cloud hanging over the child. As her grip lessened, he hooked a finger under her chin to get her full attention. “Those two live here as well. There’s not a need for those teary eyes, yeah?”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that. My name is Isaac.” Taking the chair beside Arthur, Isaac glanced at the child out of his peripheral vision. Sebastian hadn’t given a real reason as to why he wanted an old shirt, but it was clearly the one she wore.

The other man approached her chair directly. “Ahh, a wonderful little soul has found her way into our humble home. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Saki-chan.” He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss, bringing a smile to her face once again.

“That’s not my name, mister.” Alara answered, giggling at his antics, nonetheless. Everyone that she had met were so kind to her, having so much attention had her worries scattered away. If only momentarily, she was happy.

Sebastian interrupted the commotion, wheeling out a cart of delicious foods of all varieties. “Please, have a seat, dinner is already late.” The hint of disapproval in his voice didn’t deter the young girl from returning to her pancakes.

The chatter around the table remained light, talks of their days and giving information about themselves led the child into the conversation. Allowing her to decide what she might tell them about herself. None wanted to bring that terrified expression back to her, even without knowing the extent of the circumstances.

Alara perfectly fit in with the lot, finding their professions and personalities intriguing, a mismatched bunch. Never in her short life had so many different people been in one room. The comfortable feeling settling inside her brought an ache along with it, but she didn’t know why. Like she’d been stuck in a China glass house, snatched right out of a doll shop.

Her swiping of the syrup off her cleared plate was interrupted with door opening once again. There were more men living here, and the lively atmosphere hadn’t broken around her, so a moment passed before the electricity in the air began to spark around her.

One word.

Her own name… in that voice…

It shattered the glass house around her, bringing the raging storm crashing down around the ruins. Her shoulders rose, head ducking down as if avoiding the ceiling that would crash atop her at any second.

The slush of each step like the strike of a whip against her skin. She shrunk down into the chair with every squish of his soaked shoes, lower into the seat as if wishing it would swallow her up and take her far away from him. Her fingers entangled in her raven locks, twisting hard to prove that this was real. Green eyes wide open, afraid of what happen should she shut them, but never rising from the view of her own lap.

“I’m terribly sorry for the trouble she’s caused you.”

Apologizing. Always apologizing on her behalf. Why? Why did every choice she make result in her mother apologizing about her? She followed the rules, yet it never stopped his constant shouting at her, never dissuaded that whip he wielded with the sharp tip. Begging, pleading, her mother on her knees, hands clasped.

Apologizing.

He’d never once ceased because of those words.

“I’ve been out in the storm searching all over, worried that something terrible had happened. I’m Oscar Arnette, her father, well, step-father but I love her like she was my own.” He spoke with a laugh, as if relieved to have found her. A fake smile plastered across his face.

You should have never brought her here! All she does is cause me grief!

Keep her locked in her room!

You foolish, insolent child!

Those were words of love? Words spit at her as if she were a speck of dirt marring his clean home, one he couldn’t wash away. Yelled in anger, in absolute hatred, tearing her heart and mind into crumbled pieces.

That is love?

Look at you! My beautiful girl! Come give your mama a big hug!

You are more special than any of the stars in the sky!

Her mother’s words. So differently spoken, always with a warm smile as bright as the sun itself, that chased away all the bad memories from her day. The only one who looked at Alara as a child that was wanted.

“I’m so confused,” Her whisper barely audible at all. Oscar’s calm tone explaining how he’d come to find her clashed louder than the thunder above with her memories etched with his shouting on those days he beat her till she went numb. Did he love her? Was that love?

Napoleon rose from his chair, blocking his advancement towards her. Heavy tension fell over the silent room. A declaration that they did not intend to simply let him take her. “It would be wise for you to keep your distance.

The other residents in the room were watching the intruder just as carefully. It brought a hushed pause, no one making the first move. Le Comte assessed the situation before him. The genuine fear radiating from the girl shielding herself came from years of mistreatment. This man, the source. “Shall we have a chat, Monsieur Oscar, in my study perhaps?”

“Oh no, there’s no need. Alara, you’ve caused enough trouble for these gentlemen. Come along, now.” His hand reached towards her, intent on taking her with him this instant.

So many times, those hands brought her nothing but pain. Her body reacted before she thought her actions through. Ducking under the table, the carpet caught her small frame, roughly jarring her from the impact. The very notion of him touching her crawled across her skin like a thousand bugs.

She did not want to go with him. If his actions reflected love, then she never wanted to experience love again.

A resigned sigh came from Oscar as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s enough theatrics.” He paused, searching for the perfect words to draw her out.

“I believe you’re confusing theatrics with terror, old boy,” Arthur replied, not a drop of humor in his words. No one should strike that much fear into a child. He remained in his seat, arm outstretched to the now empty chair beside him, another barrier for the man to overcome before he would ever reach the girl.

Oscar feigned a graceful smile. “You must be careful with this one. Her imagination runs extremely rampant, causing all the fuss amongst my staff and guests. Just the other day she proclaimed the maids and butlers’ demons that must be slayed by her own hands. It’s extraordinary what children dream up–”

Dazai leaned forward to rest his arms against the table’s edge, a sly smile upon his lips. He could see right through the act before him. “Alara-chan only sows the seeds of truth that are blooming in all their sorrowful beauty, grown by the pain endured. While you, sir, only reap the strongest of vines with thorns slick with all your lies.”

“Preposterous. You’re believing a child’s fantasies!”

“My job requires me to spot a fake from the real thing and you are the most blatantly fake man I’ve ever encountered,” Theo interjected, blue eyes narrowed in pure disgust. Men like him were the lowest.

Oscar remained composed, though all could see the cracks growing ever larger with the passing of every second. “It’s time to go, child. Don’t you want to see your mother?” A last resort but it yielded the results he sought.

“Mama? She-” The quivering girl didn’t come out, but the hope in her voice was evident. It drew out an ache from all the residents, her innocent belief that for once, the truth was being told to her.

“Yes, yes. You can see her again if you come with me.” Sweet and empty words twisted as skillfully as a spider’s web meant to lull the struggling moth into its clutches.

Napoleon seized his arm as he moved to reach for her again. The seasoned soldier, the emperor, could spot the deceit dripping from every inch of the man. Words always meant something, and to see them being twisted into false hope made Napoleon ill. “Tell me how you became so splayed with blood.”

Oscar’s clothes drenched with bloodstains that not even the storm could wash away from him. His irritation had grown, no more faked smiles. “I’ll insist that you release me. I am taking what belongs to me and will be on my way.”

“She isn’t–” Isaac spoke up, eyes downcast at his lap but anger rising in him. “Alara isn’t your property that you can just claim and take away.” Kids were a mystery to him, but each time she smiled and asked him a question about himself, Isaac had felt warm and… happy.

The Frenchman could hardly fathom why these strangers were protecting a brat that they hardly knew. What could they possibly gain from this? He rolled his shoulders, giving a breathy laugh. “Ah, it must be a reward you are after. Name your price and-”

“I assure you, Monsieur, no payment is required. Her well-being is our priority.” Comte cut him off, an edge to his voice.

“Her well-being?” How much had the mousy child told them? The rage boiling up inside him became too much, overpowering his need to save face.

None of them could have predicted his next choice of action.

Oscar lunged, surprising the seasoned solider, and clambered wildly to the girl under the table. From the lining of his soaked jacket, he slashed a sharpened knife at her. “I’ll punish you thoroughly when we’ve returned to my home,” He growled through clenched teeth.

Alara reeled back, squealing in pain at the slice of the blade across her shin. Her entire being petrified at the crazed glint in his eyes.

Everyone moved at the same time. Chairs were knocked backwards, slamming into the carpet. Napoleon grabbed the collar of Oscar’s jacket, roughly tossing him away from the table and onto the floor.

Vincent had taken the girl in his arms, cradling her like a bride to keep her secure. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” he had her tight, turning his back to the scene to shield her from view. He kept his rage hidden well behind a reassuring smile.

Oscar staggered but rose to his feet, only to be at the end of Napoleon’s drawn sword. He held up empty hands. “Give her to me and this will all be over.” Oscar cursed himself letting her escape his grasp once again.

“Down, put me down,” Alara whined over and over, struggling against the painter to no avail. She couldn’t remain here. He’d ignited her fears tenfold.

Vincent held her tighter, voice soothingly soft. “You don’t need to run again. You’re safe with us.”

“I’ll advise you to take a seat, Monsieur Oscar. We will have a civil discussion.” Comte left no room for argument. He’d seen quite enough. It’s no surprise she climbed through their kitchen window seeking refuge from this man. “Vincent, take Alara up to the guest room. Children need not be present for this.”

****

Her soft sniffs were all that filled the bedroom for a moment. Arthur and Isaac had followed after the painter, who still had the girl sitting on his lap. She’d refused to be put down. He gently brushed his fingers through her raven locks, slowly calming her down.

Arthur had her wounded leg stretched out, resting against his knee. The cut hadn’t been very deep, but the once doctor took his time cleaning the blood away and wrapping it with a bandage. “There all finished,” Arthur flashed her a warm smile.

Isaac stood awkwardly to the side. He could hardly find the words to say, nothing seemed appropriate.

All three men were visibly worried about how this would end. The display of the stepfather had rattled them, too. Comte would resolve the issue, but then what? Where would the little girl go with no family to send her to?

Soft rapping at the door drew all their attention. Locked from the inside for extra safety didn’t stop the tension from rising once again, but it fell again as Napoleon entered the room. “Jean agreed to stay with Comte.” He didn’t say it, but he’d come as added protection. As if reading the room, Napoleon smiled reassuringly. “Don’t fret, Alara. He’ll be gone soon.”

Alara bit her lip. She desperately wanted to believe him, but they didn’t know her stepfather as she did. He always got what he wanted. And… he wanted to hurt her. Even in this room surrounded by strong men, she didn’t feel safe.

Arthur clapped his hands together to gain all the attention back on him. “Why don’t you play a game with me, hm?”

“What kind of game?” Her curious interest bringing a more relaxed atmosphere.

“A guessing game.” Arthur held up a gloved finger. “I’m going to guess something about you, and you tell me if I’m right or wrong. It’s very simple, isn’t it?” There were many gaps to fill in about her and how she came into this situation.

Her head bobbed in response. The writer successfully had taken her mind off the earlier events.

“I’m guessing that you came from a very different country than France.” His first question not really one that had taken much to figure out.

Alara gave a soft yes, eyes darting around the room as if imagining what her home had been before coming to France. Not a home near as a grand this, nor the one that her and her mama had been brought to. “We left home when I was three. I liked it there. It was just me and Mama.”

Three years in this country. Three long years with that brute of a man causing her physical and mental harm.

She shielded a yawn with her hand, the adrenaline wearing away and replaced by exhaustion. The hour growing later, evident in the soft chime of the clock on the wall, signaling a new day.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Vincent shifted to make room under the covers but softly chuckled at her refusal.

A soft no. Alara leaned her cheek against his chest, fingers gripping his sleeve to pull his arm back around to cradle her against him. Safe. Within his arm, she could nearly say she felt completely safe.

“My second guess is that you don’t really like France, do you?” Arthur drew her attention back to him. He wasn’t so much guessing as leading her into a topic. Kids had few filters, so maybe she’d let more slip than she would realize.

“Mm… I miss our old home. Mama would take me out to the market or to the lake sometimes. Here… I could only go in the backyard for a few minutes.”

Stun fell over the room. Not only had she endured suffering at the hands of a monster, but the little girl had been trapped inside a home where she received little more than the bare necessities to survive.

Napoleon leaned back against the wall, finding it harder to sit here and do nothing when the culprit sat downstairs sipping tea with Comte. He listened to Arthur ask her more questions, each one leading into a topic more serious than the last, and her answers growing more heart wrenching.

He says that should someone see me; he doesn’t want to be bothered by stupid questions. I’m not allowed to play with the nice dresses on.

Sometimes if I’m bad, I have to stay in my room all day. It’s small and the window is too high for me to reach. And… it’s really cold. I don’t like it in there.

By not saying many words, she said so much. Topics about her old home would light her up for a moment, remembering the times before France. In a child so young, the four nearly couldn’t bear to watch that innocence fade from her green eyes, replaced by fear and worry.

She fought against sleep as hard as she could, but the soothing petting of the painter holding her had lulled her under. Vincent carefully put her in the bed, under the warm covers, gazing down at her. “This isn’t right.”

A light rap at the door. Napoleon warily unlocked it, hand on the hilt of his sword. Sebastian stood on the other side, no changes in his typical demeanor. He’d only come to deliver a message.

“M. Le Comte has called for a house meeting. Everyone is to be in attendance in the dining hall in 5 minutes.”