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jolalibrary · 5 months ago

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20. rainier grey

frankie morales x f!reader | epilogue of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: the end

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

You sure you got everything from the house, baby? I think so! Does this mean you're giving the keys in?

Unpacking another box, you slide a photograph onto the shelf, right next to his. You smile, shifting it, trying to make your things look like they belong as much as his.

Evidence of you already slotting in. Books sitting with his, plants finding homes in corners that look as though they were made for them.

Yeah. Unless you've changed your mind? Not even a little bit. Good. Because I already handed them in. And what if I had said I thought I’d forgotten something?

The bubbles in the corner appear, fluttering and twitching, until they vanish. You roll your eyes, grabbing a tissue-wrapped small artificial cactus, placing it, and tilting your head as your phone vibrates.

You know I’ve checked the place twice. Did the sex chair go into storage okay, by the way?

Even from here, you know he snorted. A breathy laugh, one that has and will always make your lips press together before sliding up into a smirk. You giggle at it, imagining him trying to suppress it if he's with people. Shaking your head at the image as you see him typing.

You gotta stop calling your office chair a sex chair. Well, the only thing that happened in it was that. Gonna drive now, you menace. Hurry home, baby.

Sighing, you rip the tape from the underside of the box and flatten it, staring at the wasteland of boxes that have taken over his living room. Despite the chaos, you feel like you're finally home, for the time in a long time.

A thing you'd whispered to him when he'd hooked his leg over yours in bed this morning.

Steam billowed, carrying the scent of spices, tomatoes, and herbs blending into the air as you hear the front door open.

It brings a smile, tugging at the corners of your mouth, even though this should feel ordinary by now. A thing you should be used to, it feels like the first day all over again.

No more boxes, all unpacked, places for everything and newly learnt routines that you know to listen for.

Head turned to the doorway, hearing one thing after the other landing in the bowl: Keys, wallet and two thuds of his boots being removed.

It's all a routine now, something normal. Dinner is divided between whoever arrives home first. If he gets home first, he starts it, the two of you relying on the board on the wall to keep track. The one that's a vibrant array of colours—butterscotch orange, dinosaur green, and rainy day blue—highlighting the various shifts, jobs, and school pick-ups your month has in store.

This week, it’s a lot of orange. Things are picking up, with more word getting out about Frankie’s business and what he can do. The reviews are trickling in, and you know he’s already quickly outgrowing the summer house in the back garden. You commented on it when the two of you made the decision, something he assured you would be fine. You still agree that paying for two homes wasn’t a wise choice when he was already taking a risk.

Risky—a word you could never use to describe him. But a word you let him have, relenting, melting into his arms as you bid goodbye to the office he made you, with the promise of a better one in the future.

Now, standing in the kitchen that used to be just his and is now ours, you count in your head the seconds until his arms slide around your middle, his mouth pressing a kiss to your head.

“Smells good.”

Turning your head, fingers sliding under his chin—you steal a kiss, and another, sliding your digits around his jaw before they’re tangling in his hair.

“Could get used to this.” You hum against his mouth, murmuring a what that makes him smile, smirk, right up against yours. “You in our kitchen.”

“Well, it has been months now—I’d hope you’d be used to it.”

Shrugging, running his hands up down your arms, he steps back and leans on the counter. On the days when he beats you home, you bring home stories of Harry, customers and the random paint name you’ve found that you make him guess the shade of until he gets it right. Tonight, you ask him how his day has been. A mundane question, a thing that arises every day and yet the answer is never the same.

He talks about another enquiry, how the photos of your old office space, in the place you once called home, had inspired another couple to get in touch. And you try not to smirk, to wear a knowing smile, but instead nod, stirring and grabbing plates as he folds his arms and keeps his gaze on you.

A thing you thought would have lessened, but hasn’t.

“You need my help with this one, or?”

Shaking his head, folding his arms—looking you up and down as he traces his tongue across his bottom lip.

“What?”

“We said if we did this you wouldn’t try and do it all.”

You might not groan outwardly, but you do inwardly. His brows raise as though knowing so too, a thing which almost drags a laugh out of you. Almost.

“Come here,” he says, hand extended, finding your slides in as he drags you close. “I appreciate you, you know that?”

“I do.”

Good, he whispers, brushing your cheek with his thumb—the roughness of it making liquid heat spark in your stomach as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You want a hand dishing up?”

Shaking your head, you kiss his wrist. “No. Go change—you can’t do it all.”

His snigger stays in the kitchen with you, long after he’s left to go change.

Luca told me something interesting at drop off.

Not sure I want to know.

Apparently, we’re getting a dog?

Little shit. No. He asked me and I said I’d think about it.

Well, apparently he thinks that Saturday when we pick him up we’re going to get him a dog that lives at our house.

Fuck.

Fuck indeed.

Are we against a dog?

It takes a second for the squeals to calm down.

Your arms may be scratched, and you may have wanted to sob as you tried to build the crate on your own, but the joy thrumming inside you as Frankie wrestles the puppy and Luca screams with laughter makes it all worth it.

It feels right that there are two bowls on the kitchen floor, both sitting on a plastic mat covered with paw prints.

It makes the home feel complete, even with a wet patch on the rug, even with your new shoe marked with tiny teeth marks, and even though you're exhausted beyond words.

Grinning, you lean back on the couch, watching Frankie pretend to bark and growl as the puppy tries to nip at him. The two alternate between rolling around, evading each other, the creased laugh marks on Frankie's nearly enough to make you get on the floor and join him, just to brush your fingers against them.

Instead, you teasingly poke the boy next to you. “Luca, what do you want to call him?”

Mouth sliding from side to side, Luca shuffles and bounces along the sofa before his head comes to rest on your arm. Frankie shifts to playing a version of tug-of-war. “Tyler.”

“Tyler?” Frankie asks, pausing to stroke the retriever's ears.

Luca smiles and then beams. “Like tyrannosaurus.”

Somehow, you suspected you should have seen that coming.

“Okay, well, Tyler needs to go to the toilet. Do you want to try and take him?”

Luca, nodding and smiling, taps your arm. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

As you stand, you catch sight of Frankie beaming up at you, warmth flooding your cheeks and ears at the sight of it.

What are you doing for lunch, baby?

Well, I was going to treat myself to a coffee and maybe a sweet treat. But what are you thinking?

I was thinking of letting Tyler out, bringing you fast food and sitting in the office at Harolds?

Oh, it’s been a while since we’ve done that. I like that our roles have reversed here.

I know. Do you know when Harold will let you have lunch?

Delivery is almost away, and then I just have to do a few bits.

I’ll be there in an hour. I’ve missed your face today.

Sounds good. Maybe you should have spent more time with it this morning then, than between my legs.

I have zero regrets about how I started my day.

“Have you seen the yard—I think that’s enough room for Tyler, how much bigger can he even grow after a year, and look here...”

Your fingers loop in between his, tugging him, practically dragging him with you to the kitchen window—the slightly overgrown grass and white fence greeting the two of you.

It’s the eleventh house the two of you have seen. Fingers brush over his thumb as he follows you around the rooms in a house that’s spacious, with three bedrooms, and two-and-a-half baths. It’s airy, light—ridiculously bright.

But it needs work.

A thing you can tell he’d thought on sight, even if the most he’s done is make a snort or a hum.

You suspect Frankie is paying more attention to the things wrong with it, than what is right. Missing some of the things you point out to him, too busy calculating square footage as the two of you walk around it. Ignoring your opinions on floor-to-ceiling bookcases and hallway mirrors, if the two of you could get a bigger bed than you both have now.

You do think he catches that you think Luca should have the largest room—your reasoning dripping from your tongue that he needs space as he grows up, that you both have a bigger closet in the second biggest.

“—And, we'd probably need to get him one of those beds soon, the ones where he has space under for a pull-out or a desk. The closet is decent, but we’ll have to get him some drawers too.”

Your fingers trace along the doors of the closet as he blinks, coming back to you, to the house, to the room.

“Wait—what…”

And you smile. Not just with kindness or joy, but with everything. Push it outwards, hoping it stretches its warmth out over the entire room, hoping it’ll surround him, maybe he’ll allow it to wrap itself around him as you tilt your head.

“I think this should be Luca’s room.”

Walking towards you, the heels on his boot sounding on the wooden flooring. “Baby, you can’t think that. For one, this house is—“

“Perfect,” you finish, palms finding his cheeks, thumb stroking the hair on either side of his lip. “It’s perfect, Frankie.”

You can see it, even if he doesn’t say it: it isn’t.

You’ve suspected for a while that he has an idea of a home the two of you should have. He’d whispered it to you three months ago in bed, head buried in your neck, fingers fanned over your hips as he talked about garden size, a pool, a workshop and even an office.

In some capacity, this house ticks some of those boxes. It has a spacious kitchen, it has a decent yard and a pool that needs a deep clean. There’s a room that could be an office, but would most likely be a spare bedroom for friends, for Benny or one of your own.

And, you’re grinning. Watching him smile in response, all radiant like he thinks you’re the reason the world rotates.

Then he says it, the thing which has been ticking behind the scenes. Unsaid, unspoken—ignored as though it doesn’t have its own pulse. “You deserve better.”

You don’t mean to, but your forehead wrinkles, brows knitting together as your smile fades into a thin line. Feeling it, etched and written across your face as shame works across him. The evidence of a battle he’s having with himself—something churning, twisting as you slide your hands down his neck and loop them at the back.

It’s clear now it’s been needling him—likely making his chest tight, wrapping vines around his chest, all thick and full of spikes, as he rolls his neck and sighs.

Tilting your head, trying to keep your tone level, you whisper, “Baby, what do you mean?”

Because the realtor is downstairs.

Not wanting to cause a fight—a scene. Your skin prickles as you momentarily panic that you’re whisper isn’t a whisper, when his mouth opens, but no sound leaves it. Worry tangles in your head, and in your throat as you move closer. Wanting more words to appear, to conjure, tell me, tell me, tell me, burning a hole in your tongue as you need him.

Your hand brushes his cheek, forehead smoothing out—concern replacing earlier confusion. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The edges of your mouth twitch. “And, I love this house.”

He snorts, shaking his head as you glare.

“Don’t… don’t do that, Francisco. Don’t think for me because you’ve concocted some image of what I want.”

Letting his eyes hang down, he sighs. “I’m not–I’m not doing that.”

“You are. You… you’re looking at each house as if it has a checklist to meet—like it’s being measured against something.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You sigh, dropping your hands from his face. And you miss touching him the moment you do. Wanting to place them back, have him take your wrists and put them back, but you’re already folding them, shaking your head as you stare out the window.

“You can’t be mad at me for wanting the best for you.”

You snort this time, narrowing your eyes as you shoot him a glare that says you can, and you will.

“If, and I mean if we take this house, I… I want, no, I need to do a lot of work on it. Because you deserve the house of your dreams, and admittedly, I can’t afford to give it to you. Because houses are fucking expensive, but I can make it for you.”

Biting down on your lip, you glance, catching the sight of him running a hand over his face. Fingers pinching the inside of your arm as you try not to let tears bubble, swim and then fall.

“I… I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean?”

You look up, blinking away the tears. Seeing the doubt spread across his face, like he wants to rewind the clock—take back ever saying you deserve better.

And you don’t want to fight, not with him.

“Frankie… I don’t want it to be my dream house, I want it to be ours.”

He takes a step towards you. “I know.”

But you raise your hands, not pushing him back, but not inviting him in either.

“But you don’t. You’re not picturing a doorframe we can keep measuring Luca growing up. You’re not thinking of warm Sundays with our friends around the pool—and you’re not seeing the lick of paint needed so our bedroom is a little dimmer, so your eyes don’t burn from all the off-white.

“I don’t need an office—I like working with you and at Harold’s. And, yes, I’m not walking around thinking you won’t have to do anything to this house, because, of course, you will. You’re good, you have an eye. We wouldn’t even be thinking of buying something bigger if you weren’t. But, you started a business a year ago—we can’t afford perfect. But we can buy good and make it perfect. If, and when you stop thinking of me, and instead us.”

Brushing a hand over his face, he takes a moment. Swallowing a sigh, an annoyed grunt. His fingers itch at his forehead, pushing strands of hair under his hat before he drops it and stares at you.

“You really want this one?”

Nodding, you roll your lips. “What about you?”

And so he looks around. Hands digging into his jacket pockets, walking in slow footsteps around the room—

Hoping you've helped him see it, picture it, with all your earlier ramblings.

Where the wooden trunk he made will go, the bed you just talked about—the prints of stars, spaceships and galaxies. He glances out of the window, spotting the long drive and the trimmed grass—the quiet neighbourhood that he could teach Luca to ride his bike in.

He feels you come up behind him, arms sneaking around his waist, his hands clutching your fingers as he smiles.

“You want to take another tour, Morales?”

He smiles, nodding, before he turns in your arms so he’s facing you, clutching your face as he kisses you. One which is full of sorry’s and love.

He lingers his palms on your face, just for a fraction. “Will you tell me all the other things you picture as we walk around?”

Grinning again, like before. One which would rival the sun and the beauty of the full moon on a clear night sky.

“Sure,” you whisper, taking his hand, leading him out of the room that in several months will be his son’s.

I’ve packed our case and it’s in the shower in our en-suite, so do not turn the water on without looking. Luca’s is half done, but just need you to help me with a few last-minute bits?

Can I ask why our suitcase is in the shower or am I missing something?

Luca is being nosy. He goes into our bathroom but not into the shower. Trying to keep a surprise from him is harder than you think when I apparently “have lying face”.

You do look very suspicious when you lie.

Good job I don’t have to lie for a living.

Is he behaving?

We’ve baked cookies for tomorrow—even if he thinks it's for a movie day. And he’s currently using my iPad to talk to Sam.

I keep hiding in rooms with boxes so he doesn't ask me things.

Rainy, baby.

I know, but it's only a few more hours, right?

Yeah, promise. Sam called me earlier, and said she has managed to get Monday off so she can meet us there on Sunday—says we should pick somewhere in the park so she can surprise him properly.

Do you want me to get to thinking and then text her?

If you don’t mind baby? I should be done here around 7.

Sounds good. Gives me something to focus on until you're home.

You sure you're doing okay?

I’ll be better when we tell him tonight, I’m feeling really bad about lying to him even if it’s for a good reason.

I promise you, the moment he realises we’re going, you’ll see how it’s worth it.

I know. Plus, the promise of you in Mickey Mouse ears is really keeping me going.

The photo of you getting off one of the rides is what is keeping me going.

Mean.

But I love you.

Love you too.

Peaceful—that’s how you’d describe it.

Condensation slips under your fingers, sliding under your wrist, pooling at the watch strap as you hear him shouting something to someone as he makes his way over. The music is quieter over here, the loud voice that attempts to synchronise with the lyrics seems less shrieking, and more full of harmony.

You were only hovering on the outskirts to call to see if Tyler was okay, and then you found yourself lingering. A moment needed, not questioned or protested.

You know that's why he’s been biding his time. Watching, eyes flicking to you just in case you beckon him to come. Now, you smile as he approaches, it pulled from you with so much ease it's reactionary at this point, no thought. Just a-Frankie-smile, all his, hopefully forever his.

The once-warm air has now cooled, whipping the fabric around your frame as he saunters over.

“Wondered how long it would take you.”

Snorting, he takes a sip from his glass—letting it wet his lips, admiring the same view you have been for some time.

Slipping his hand around your waist, you move closer with ease. Hip moving to hip, cheek coming to rest on his shoulder—contentment filling your bones when he brushes his fingers up and down your back.

“You cold?”

“Not now.”

And he smiles, light—it coming with ease now that he has you back by his side.

“Missed you.”

“That’s because you’re a needy boy, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, he buries it in your neck—light, airy—before pressing a kiss to your head and turning to watch those moving on the dance floor. The soft glow of twinkling lights shimmering in his brown, fingers teasing up and down his white shirt.

The moment is only punctuated by a distant sound—a shift in melody embedded into the night breeze. It takes a second, one far too much before you recognise the tune, the song. Smirking to yourself as you remember your passionate rendition in his car the other week. An updated version to the one over a year ago. The look the same, though, all grin, all teeth and almost crinkled eyes.

You feel him turning your head, eyes meeting his.

It’s simple, uncomplicated—a movement that seems rehearsed as you move, leaning, resting your head on his chest as you feel a soft sigh escape his lips.

“When we do this, we’re eloping.”

Brow arching, he smiles. “When?”

“Like you’re not desperate to slip a ring on my finger, Morales.”

Snorting, resting his chin on your head, you take a comforting breath.

Hearing him swallow, you look at him, finding his tongue flicking against his teeth as he stares ahead at the party. “What if I was… desperate?”

Smirking, finding his eyes now on you, even if his head is facing forward. “Well, Frankie, maybe I’d be desperate to say yes.”

Have I told you today you’re beautiful?

Are you texting me from across our hotel room?

I am. I can see your smile in the mirror.

How the roles have reversed. You look good in a suit, have I told you that?

Told me I look good in a different kind of suit today.

Oh baby, you always rock that one very well.

Can’t believe I’m marrying you today.

Can’t believe there’s a chance I’m going to be married by the real Elvis today.

I hope he says uh-huh-a-huh.

If he doesn’t, I say we annul and try again.

You do really look beautiful.

You should take a photo with Will’s camera—I guarantee I’ll get sauce down me.

You and white.

It’s actually rainier grey, but maybe I should have worn butterscotch.

Not sure I’d have survived that. Already pretty close to falling apart at the sight of you now.

Shut up and come here and kiss me.

AN: The End.

God, I was emotional last week, but as much as I am this week, I'm just grateful. Grateful you've all followed, that I got to tell this exactly how I wanted to. But, mainly, that you let this pair into your hearts. I love you, thank you.

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

Note

4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff

(not spell checked sorry x)

What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.

Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.

The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.

You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.

You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.

There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.

It was a part you played well.

Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.

Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.

Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.

But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.

It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.

The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.

Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.

Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.

You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.

It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.

Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.

And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.

You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.

An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.

"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.

The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.

No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.

Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.

Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.

Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.

Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.

He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.

"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.

Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.

Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.

You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.

Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."

You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.

Go fuck yourself, Rhys.

I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.

The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.

"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.

"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.

Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"

"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.

"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.

In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.

"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."

"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.

Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.

I've never known him to be like this, you know.

Like what?

Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.

Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.

Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.

Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.

Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.

"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."

Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.

Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"

"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."

"You never said anything."

"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."

You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.

"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.

Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.

If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.

Author's Note

Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years ago

Text

The Lover Of The Seven Kingdoms (Tywin x Reader)

First of all, I’m sorry but you cannot tell me anything when it comes to Tom hiddleston being the perfect young Tywin Lannister. Second, I love writing morally grey female characters and I wrote grant maester pycelle and mushroom in cause I wanted to show how a lot of male historians portray women in one way cause it’s just easier.

The lover of the seven Kingdoms” grant maester Pycelle had used as a description of (y/n) Martell, the second wife of Tywin Lannister, the symbol of femininity for a plethora of men in kings Landing, the mother of lord Ezra Lannister and lady Asena, the scandalous twins and one of the few bastards that later became legitimate and inherited Lannisport, then they had three more, lady Nymeria, Lady Zara and Lord Sorin, (y/n) was the secret passion of Tywin since she stepped foot at court, she was to be Joanna’s lady in waiting.

Her appearance was one carved by the Gods, long dark raven hair that curled down to her waist, olive skin, and almost black eyes, her lips thick, and a body as juicy as the fruits of her land, her twin brother Dorian had sent her to Kings landing as a way to show respect and also expand her horizons.

“Princess (Y/n) had relations with one of the bastards of house Dayne when she denied him the man gutted himself in front of her, Doran sends her away to avoid more scandals caused by her lustful appetite”

Mushroom note, Joanna liked her, she was smart and endearing, and she knew how to play her part, however, what Joanna had not taken in mind is that (y/n) stopped at nothing to get what she wants, in this case, it was the young Tywin Lannister, the tall man with muscles everywhere, blue eyes and blonde hair was the subject of desire for a plethora of ladies, none of them had the guts to go after him, (y/n) was not like them, she had her eyes set and the game had begun.

“My lord”

(Y/n) called for Tywin, the hour was quite late but Tywin was the hand of the king, the hour did not matter when they were things he needed to pay attention to, papers to be signed and payments to be settled.

(Y/n) had studied his schedule, Joanna was already in bed and Tywin was free, most of the servants were dismissed so they were no prowling eyes to catch her.

Tywin halted and turned to look at the girl that called for him, she wore a rather sheer dress which was unlikely of hers, Dornish people were always costumed to very light choices in clothing, still, this was a step further, if the candles burned a bit brighter Tywin would have been able to see… well everything.

“Princess (y/n), is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly, I was hoping to talk to you, in private”

Tywin hesitated, (y/n) was just outside her chamber, she was holding the door open which meant that her choice of privacy was her room, still, curiosity about what it could be that needed to be discussed in such a secretive way was enough for his feet to go one and then the other inside.

(Y/n) closed the door before she spun to rest her back on the wood, a smirk playing on her lips as her plan was going smoother than she expected, the room was decorated in cherry red and gold colors, some orange as well and the intense smell of vanilla and musk took over Tywins senses.

“So, I would prefer it if you started talking”

“Do you like being the hand of the king?”

“You summoned me to ask me if you like my occupation?”

“No, I summoned you because I have a pair of eyes, eyes clear enough to see that something has been bothering you”

“Well I am flattered that the princess cares to ask for my well-being, however, I must go”

“You can’t lie to me Tywin, if it’s not your duty then it has something to do with me, you have been avoiding me, you can’t even look me in the eye”

Tywin once again chose to not speak he only made a b line for the door to which (y/n) was resting, she had managed to think of everything down to reaching for the handle when he did, making their hands touch, Tywin did not pull his away, he let it rest on top of hers as he towered over her and she looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Is it me, my lord? It is my presence that is bothering you?”

“No”

“No? You are breathing quite heavily, your eyes travel below my lips, and… dare I say you could have moved me if you truly wanted to, no one is here, my lord, you can confess to me”

“(Y/n)-“

“Go on, confess”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she gawked at Tywin with lustful eyes with a hint of innocence, she had done this before, Tywin was a mere puppet, a bug that got caught in the spiders' web and was now waiting to experience her poisonous bite.

Her kiss could be described as venom, it made his entire body feel like it was burning and her touch was the only remedy, his addiction started and ended with her, he had been fantasizing about her every night, haunting him like a succubus and stealing the life out of him, at an instant he forgot everything, his wife, his status, his entire life would crumble if someone were to find them, none of it mattered, all that he cared about was to see her, take her.

He took her right on her window, some servants had even reported that they could see the young princess bareback as her moans grew some attention, alas none of them thought something of it, most of the castle had seen a generous amount of men go in and out of (y/n)s chamber at all hours of the night.

Tywin was in utter awe with (y/n), he almost felt like he would faint as he reached his high, it was the only time Tywin considered that (y/n) was a practitioner of dark magic. No other woman had held such power over him in this act.

“My lion”

She had whispered in his ear before she kissed him,(Y/n) was the perfect lover, every night he would slip from his chamber and knock on her door, she would be waiting for him, take him up to the sky, and wrap him with her fire that burned as bright as dragon fire.

Tywin was entirely himself around her, she allowed him to be in control and gave him the euphoric theatrics of prowling on her, which made (y/n) giggle a little, it was refreshing and borderline hilarious to move the strings in the background while Tywin thought he was moving them only because she let him touch them.

“I have exciting news”

“Which is?”

“Princess (y/n) is pregnant, how lovely would it be if we get to marry our children? We could secure Dorne and bind my friendship with her”

“We will do no such thing”

“Tywin, think about it if we-“

“You are forgetting an important thing Joanna, the princess is not married, who knows who the father of that bastard is, my child will not marry anyone of such low status”

What else could he have said? We can’t marry them cause they are siblings? Joanna would be crushed, Tywin had run to her chamber that night, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room startling her, still once she laid her eyes on him she smiled, she dared to smile as if nothing has happened.

“How dare you announce your pregnancy without even telling me first”

“I thought you had noticed”

“No, I hadn’t and Joanna wants to marry your child with one of our children”

“I am sure we will find a way around it”

“Find a way around it? How are you so calm when the world is crumbling on your feet? You are not married nor betrothed, this child will be declared a bastard”

“This child will be my firstborn, a child created by you and me if you remember, that is all that matters to me”

“Not to the rest of the realm”

“I do not care about the rest of the realm Tywin, that is your problem, it will be royalty in Dorne, I do not care what they call my child here”

“Some said she bathed in goats blood every full moon, she would burn candles and speak in foreign languages to make Tywin stay by her side”

Mushroom claimed, it could be true or just whispers since no one understood the powerful hold that she had on the young lord, Tywin was a fearsome man, calculated and ambitious, yet (y/n) could sway him in any direction she wished with a bat of an eyelash.

It was such a peculiar moment, (y/n) gave birth to twins four moons after her lady Joanna, Ezra and Asena, both of them had their fathers' eyes, sapphires that shined in the light of the sun as (y/n) fed them from her breasts, Tywin had held Asena first, she looked nothing like Cersei still something in him knew that the two girls were born to be each others nemesis, fate had played him like a fiddle.

“I was thinking of going back to Dorne”

“Why?”

“My brother said it is not safe for us, people will talk and I do not want my children to grow up in a venomous environment”

“No, no you will stay, Ezra and Asena Hill has a nice ring to it”

“They are Martells, my love, they shall be called that”

(Y/n) was not ashamed of her children, on the contrary, she adored them and kept them by her side at all times, she taught them how to walk, talk, sing, and dance, a endearing mother with a backbone made of Valyrian steel, a combination made straight out of the seven rings of hell.

“Push, my lady”

“I can’t, (y/n) please make it stop”

“Maester, what is taking so long?”

“The babe has breached, it will not let me pull it out”

“It hurts (y/n)”

“I know, my lady, just one more push”

Joanna fought tooth and nail to survive, unfortunately, her labor did not harvest any fruit for her, the son survived but Lady Joanna did not even get to hold him, grant Maester pycelle held Tyrion and presented him to lord Tywin who was utterly disgusted by the ugly creature.

“That is no son of mine, throw him in the river”

“You will do no such thing”

“This matter does not concern you, princess”

“It does, you may be excused maester”

Pycelle only nodded and left them alone, a strange aura surrounded both of them, Joanna was gone, a deformed babe had taken her life, and (y/n)s belly was ready to pop any minute, what was to be done now?

“Does cruelty excite you?”

“Cersei and Jaime are both healthy and Lannister featured, that… thing could not have been created by me”

“It was not the babes' fault, so I have to remind you that you are also guilty of the thing you are accusing a dead woman of?”

Tywin was a man but that meant little to nothing, if Tyrion was a bastard then there was no difference between him and (y/n)s children, Tywin was in no place to frown upon such an act since he was having another child on the way, a bastard.

“Listen to me, my love, I know you loved Joanna and I loved her too, but the babe survived, it’s the last thing we have from her, grief is a strong emotion, but we have each other to lean on, don’t you want this for us Tywin? for me?”

There it was, her secret weapon, that sweet voice that dripped of honey and the big doe eyes, she knew how to play the damsel in distress down to every detail, Tywin put his lips in before he shook his head in defeat, his wife had departed but his mistress stood before him, demanding a place at his table and life, which he was willing to give her.

Cersei was frantic, the announcement of her father's betrothal to the princess (y/n) and the reaffirmation of her bastard children had brought her to an utmost stage of rage that she was going around her room like a hurricane, she was throwing things and cursing as loud as her lungs allowed it.

How could he do this to her? To her family? That woman had slithered her way into their life like a snake and was now feasting over her mother's dead body, this was just plain disrespectful to her mother.

Tywin found Cerseis handmaidens outside her chamber as the sounds that came from it could put to shame any wild animal, the ladies looked frightened and not one of them dared to go in, however, all of them tried to warn him in leaving the lady be, suggesting that this has probably happened before.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Get out”

“Young lady I advise you-“

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to you! How could you marry her?! How could you do this to my mother?”

That was the last thing she said before a harsh slap landed on Cerseis's cheek, the girl was taken back by the act since her father had never hit her, he would discipline her but mostly by raising his voice or finding peculiar tricks of punishment, for Tywin to get physical with his daughter meant that she had gone too far.

“You do not get to judge my decisions, you will welcome your brother and sisters and you will be nice to my wife whether you like it or not, did I make myself clear?”

Silence only looks that could kill were exchanged

“Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes Father”

“My love?”

(Y/n) walked into the room, she had heard everything although she chose to reside in the act of being clueless, Tywin had turned away from his daughter and walked to his soon-to-be wife’s side, his hand found hers and brought it up to his lips, (y/n) smiled fondly before she scanned the room with her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as the room was upside down.

“What has happened? Is the young lady alright? The handmaidens were stuttering when I asked about the noises”

“Yes, no need to worry, my dear, Cersei was just redecorating”

“Oh, well if she wishes I can help with that”

“No, no, Cersei is quite specific, she prefers doing things her way, hence this scenery, we should live her”

“As the young lioness wishes, but before we leave”

(Y/n) took a few steps so she can stand ahead of Cersei, Cersei truly felt like a lioness, one that was trapped in a cage to be exact, as much as Cersei wanted to believe she could outsmart anyone (y/n) had years up on the horse, so naturally she was now trotting past Cersei with her caring smile and eyes that lit up, Cersei was left to looking like a kid that threw a tantrum whilst (y/n) looked like a mother that did her best to keep the peace.

“I know you are angry at me, I would be too, I will not try to be your mother, I do however hope that one day you will view me as your ally or your friend even”

(Y/n) went to caress Cerseis cheek which Cersei flinched away from that earned her a cold hard stare from her father, (y/n) only bit her lip in defeat, then it was replaced by a smile of hope, (y/n) genuinely wanted things to go as smooth as possible, to keep all of Joanna's children close to her, it was the least she could do she wasn’t a complete monster, as much as Cersei liked to think of her as one.

“Perhaps it’s too soon, I am asking way too much of you, I hope you have a great day, sweetling”

“Put everything back in its place, now”

Tywin instructed in a stern voice before they exited the chamber that Hurricane Cersei was occupying, Tywin was sure that she would throw something at the door once it was closed and he stood correct when a loud bang was heard.

“She is a young girl that lost her mother, having an attitude with me is inevitable”

“Cersei is not a normal young girl, she has a superiority complex over everyone, our children will not interact with her yet”

“That won’t be a problem, Asena is not… fond of Cersei either”

“I wonder why, let us not think of Cersei right now, it is time for Nymeria to be fed”

“See how beautiful it sounds when it rolls off the tongue? And you wanted to name her Lydia”

Since this babe was the first legitimate child of Tywin and (y/n) he had the suggestion of picking the name of the beloved girl, on the contrary (y/n) was not budging, she was adamant on naming her daughter after the biggest warrior queen Dorne has ever known, her precious Nymeria.

“The princess never wanted to marry lord Tywin, she was far more interested in keeping their relationship private, howbeit Lord Tywin was too consumed by his emotions for her to consider the fact that the princess could have been wed, she simply chose not to”

Grant maester Pycelle added when asked about their wedding. (Y/n) did not care about her children being legitimate or owning land, Dorne was her home, her brother had congratulated her on the birth of her twins and even offered to have them in Dorne, and her family was delighted by (y/n) bringing forth new heirs for the Martells, it was only Tywin that wanted to make it official, to let everyone know that the princess was now cloaked by the lion, her life as the lady of the rock had begun and Dorne had entered a land that they never really thought of earning.

“In a day you will be my wife, therefore, my children’s good mother, I expect them to treat you as such”

“I do not, Tywin they are in mourning, you cannot expect them to make it easy for me”

“I am not dimly witted my dearest, I know they will have some thoughts over our marriage, albeit I will make sure they keep it to themselves”

Requests are open!

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galaxyedging · 1 year ago

Text

Max Lord x ofc, Dave York x f!reader, Javier Peña x f!reader, Dave York x Javier Peña

WC:4.7k

Warnings: Unprotected P in V sex. F!receiving oral. M/M hand jobs. Double penetration. Dave York. Filth.

Summary: Dave York is a menace.

And It Just Keep Getting Better

Part 4: Three's Good Company

"Mrs Lord? I had to put one of Dave's guests in one of the spare rooms. She enjoyed herself a little too much and had been on a crash diet to look her best." Kyle called down to the front desk. Mrs Lord thanked him, and he heard her mutter something about Dave needing to come with extra warnings.

Kyle didn't mind working at the motel. He was one of the few men here who hadn't crossed over into sex work but the pay was still good. Santos passes him on the balcony carrying a tray of food for the latest victim of Dave York's libido. Like him, Santos is just here to work. The same goes for Dio, who does the housekeeping as part of his community service. Ricky, another young guy, helps out with maintenance now that Joel has proven himself a very welcome addition to the team of men the motel offers. Paul, who tends bar. The motel is teetotal so no-one makes any choices out of Dutch courage but Paul makes incredible mocktails.

The music becomes louder as he walks closer to the party. Omar's voice is muffled by the walls. Omar was a man of many talents. A boxer, a DJ, and very popular with the guests despite his tendency to come across as a cocky asshole. Reaching the party, Kyle peers through the side window. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Santos' appetisers have gone down well. People are chatting and dancing. Some with their potential partners for the night. Some with each other. It seems like it might be a calm, quiet night for him. There's still the chance he might be called for muscle cramps, back spasms, and sprains from over ambitious positions.

It's then he notices Din soff to the side of the bar standing firm. Din is a big, intimidating guy, so he usually tries his best to make his body language non-threatening. Following his eyeline, Kyle saw what had the big guy on edge. Dave is back in circulation, and he is standing in a group of women with Javier at his side. Javier's grip on his glass is noticeably tight as Dave pours on the charm.

Dave and Javier shared a wall and they are the most competitive bastards going. They are both ex-government agents. Both thoroughly enjoy their new job. They out earn all the other men here as they take work almost every night. Oberyn and Dieter come a close third and fourth, due to the fact that they actually like to take time off to indulge their other hungers. Luckily, Javier usually knew where to draw the line when they get competitive with clients. Dave's moral compass was a little less accurate in its directions. Kyle had dealt with a lot of the fallout from that, mild bruises and friction burns from Dave going a little too rough when he's asked to be.

The motel was more than you hoped for. The atmosphere was lively, the DJ was on fire. The volume was just low enough to have a conversation. The first man you spoke to was gorgeous. A deep tan, soft curly hair, warm inviting eyes. His orange shirt was unbuttoned low, inviting your eyes to his chest. The collar bones peeking out made you want to bite them and his long neck. Then he started to talk. He was charming enough but he just seemed too…sweet.

Finding yourself single at forty-five and suddenly thrust into the dating scene was, well, shocking. All the men you met seemed to want a mother not a partner. You needed a man that could go toe to toe with you. One that can stimulate your mind as well as your body. One that could handle your needs that had only seemed to grow with age. One that would give you exactly what you ask for or take control of you when needed.

The way the man in the blue shirt looks at you, with an almost challenging glint in his eyes, makes you feel like you may have found someone worthy of you. He holds your gaze as he chats idly to the young woman in front of him. His hand finds her lower back as she laughs at her own story. The group around him laughs too, he doesn't react, he just keeps holding your gaze. There's something about the look on his face that drives you feral. Every inch of your body wants him but you don't want to make it too easy for him. Crossing the space between you approach the man on his right, laughing as he finishes a well time story. Introducing yourself to him first you see Blue Shirt's nostrils flare. Javier, as he tells you, takes your hand to kiss the back of it. The woman to your left clearly bristles at the attention he gives you as Dave, as Javier told you, tenses. Javier gives you a knowing smirk as he returns his attention to the woman.

After your little show Dave invites you to dance. You're barely on the dance floor before he pulls you tight to him, giving you a good idea of what is going on under that blue shirt as you press against him. With his lips almost on the shell of your ear he whispers "So you like to play games?"

Pulling back you look dead into his cold eyes and reply "No. I like to win them."

It certainly felt like winning as Dave's tongue curled inside of you. It strokes up your walls, exciting every nerve ending it touches. It's almost your own personal paradise as the man between your legs expertly draws you closer to orgasm by the second. Until the steady thumping begins against the wall above your head. Dave's eyes had been glued to the mess he was making between your legs and of you. Now they burned a hole in the wall.

"Everything okay?" You ask him sweetly as if you don't know exactly what's going on.

"Fine." He grunts against your folds as the thumping gets louder and is accompanied by Javier's name being chanted.

"Really because you seem to be more interested in what's going on next door." Amusement laces your tone.

"No, of course not." Dave huffs as he buried two fingers inside you.

A curl of his thick fingers makes you gasp. The sound is lost as Javier picks up the pace next door. Dave scowls and doubles down on his efforts to make you come.

The way he curls his fingers is blissful but not enough to distract you. "It's okay. I'm enjoying it. Why don't you invite them over? We can all play nice?"

Dave stops in his tracks a heavy frown on his face until you see the thought work through his brain and he breaks out into a grin.

The woman, Amber, maybe, (she did tell you her name you were far too distracted by a very naked and still erect Javier entering the room to take note) was a screamer. For the way Javier was fucking her deeply from behind you could get why but it was getting a bit much. Especially when she started throwing the word 'Papi' around. Dave looked like he wanted to pull out of you and choke her with his dick so she would shut the hell up.

Without much convincing Dave had gone next door and convinced them to join you.

"Fun!" Maybe Amber had exclaimed before getting on all fours next to you as you remained laying where Dave had left you not too far from your peak. Javier gave your body an approving once over over before slamming himself back into Amber with so much force that your teeth chattered on her behalf. Dave was busy getting a condom as Javier practically eye fucked you. His attention was solely on you as he drilled Maybe Amber from behind. The tension between you built until Maybe Amber screamed and clawed the sheets next to you. Javier let her drop to her chest panting before pulling out and making a show of pumping his still hard cock.

"Do you have another in you, Cariño?" He practically purred in her ear as he pulled her up flush to him palming her full tits as he did so.

Usually a woman's moans would turn you on but Maybe Amber's somehow managed to be obnoxious. Something snaps inside of you as you sit up to cover her mouth with your own. You can feel her shock until she slowly gives herself to you. Your tongue parts her lips and she lets it roll over hers.

"Naughty!" She playfully swats at your shoulder as you pull away.

Javier is suddenly pulling out of her and flipping her over to match your position on the bed. There's a look exchanged between him and Dave before they both start fucking in earnest. Dave is filling you completely, driving his cock right up against your cervix. The pleasure is almost blinding, it steals your breath. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for Maybe Amber, the very white woman, still shouting 'Papi'. Pulling her to you, you kiss her again. The moans against your mouth tell you she's close. Moving away to give her some air you see the silent exchange between Javier and Dave. Javier is clearly pleased that he seems to be winning their little race to see who can get their woman to come first. Dave snarled at him as he shifts your hips higher and strokes against your g-spot. Javier swallows as you arch up, highlighting the breast he's wanted to kiss since he lay eyes on them. Javier doesn't break his rhythm at all, Maybe Amber gets closer and closer until…Dave pulls Javier in for a bruising kiss. It's enough to halt his thrusts completely. Arousal floods around Dave's cock as you enjoy the scene in front of you. Maybe Amber isn't so taken with it.

"....and then they kissed. I mean I don't mind girls doing it for fun but men? Ew. That's not what I paid for. I'm not paying to see that kind of thing. It's unnatural." Kimber finishes her story for Mrs Lord. Her husband Max sits next to her.

Max had a cushion on his lap, he grips it tightly and prepares for his wife's response.

Mrs Lord plasters on a tight smile. "You did the right thing by removing yourself from an unwanted situation. Now, I'm going to do the right thing by removing you from a situation that you are unwanted in." Kimber's mouth flaps like a fish, and Max shifts in his seat as Mrs Lord continues. "I'll have your bill for services already rendered, and a copy of the NDA you signed, ready for you once you have collected your things. A cab will be on its way. Thank you."

Any protests from Kimber are skillfully shut down by Mrs Lord. Max looks at her full of pride. His bare cock swells against the cushion he was concealing it with since the disgruntled client stormed in mid hand job.

Mrs Lord removes the cushion to find it smeared with fresh precum. "Look at this. This is just from watching me put a bigot in her place? You still get excited so easily for me. Don't you?"

"Always!" He barks out as her hand returns to his throbbing length. A couple of calls had already interrupted them twice so Max was right on the edge.

"I want to make a mess all over yourself and do the walk of shame to your room covered in the cum I milk out of you. I want everyone to know exactly what I do to you. Can you do that for me, my pretty boy?"

Max gasps and shudders as he covers himself in his cum. "Good boy." Mrs Lord strokes back his sweat soaked her as she tucks him away.

Maybe Amber's absence was barely noticed at all.

"Fuck. I'll pay extra if you do that again." You told Dave.

A smug smirk spread across his beautifully pouted lips.

"I'll pay for you, too. All night." You breathlessly tell Javier.

Originally you were going to save the threesome for night two. Mr Lord told you that some guests only stay for one night so you'd have more choice as you were paying for an entire weekend. You were more than happy to change up your plans for the two incredible men before you. Javier was lithe and lean, with a tiny waist, the little curve of his stomach was the only sign of his age. Dave was more muscular, his body was thicker and his ass had a more pronounced curve. Javier's eyes were softer, almost cow like. Where Dave's were cold and hawkish. They are both equally devastatingly attractive.

Javier makes the first move, threading his fingers tightly in Dave's hair as he kisses him like you asked. Making another move his fingers trail down your thigh as Dave begins to thrust again. Breaking the kiss Dave pays full attention to working his cock against your g-spot as Javier's long fingers find your swollen clit to stroke circles over it. Stars seem to twinkle in front of your eyes as your eyelids flutter. You sink back into total bliss as the two men work in tandem to get you closer. Dave can feel you right on the edge of cascading down into a pit of ecstasy. For some reason you teeter on it. That's when Dave has an idea. Spitting on Javier's cock he gives it a few long strokes as Javier leans into him and moans into his neck. The sight pushes you over the edge. You fall headlong into the void. Everything else falls away apart from your pleasure. There's no messy divorce or disappointing dates, just a deep hole of all consuming euphoria.

When you crawl back out of it moments later you see the two men have kept themselves busy. The two of them are on their knees at the end of the bed slowly fisting each other's cocks. At this point you are dripping on to the sheet below you.

"You're back." Dave grins. "I thought we lost you there for a second."

Shaking off any wariness you felt from coming so hard you focus on the task at hand. These two men are yours, all night. The bed creaks as you climb up to kneel with them, kissing Javier then Dave. Dave responds to the micro aggression of you choosing Javier first by kissing you roughly, all tongue and teeth. The same teeth bite into your neck as Javier kisses the other side.

"Fuck me. Here. Like this, both of you." You manage to pant out.

Javier holds you up as Dave grabs some condoms and lube. When he returns you push away his hand with the condoms in. "You won't need them." The look in your eyes tells him not to question it. They're both clean and Kyle 'acquires' all the clients medical info so he knows you're clean and safe.

The lube is cold until the motion of Dave's fingers opening you up warms it. "Are you sure you can take both of us?"

"I've been looking for a man to offer me a challenge. Between you both I think you can just about manage it." A smirk bigger than Dave's graces your lips.

It's wiped off as Javier adds two fingers of his own. The feeling of being so full makes you doubt how long you'll last. It already feels amazing.

"Ladies first." Dave smiles at Javier.

"Fuck off." Javier spits before whispering in your ear. "Are you ready for me?"

In an answer you press your ass back into him. His cock breaching you is exquisite. He's thicker than Dave, the stretch is perfect. Then Dave attempts to join him. It's hard going at first. Even with how wet you are. They are both just so big. Javier plays with your tits. Palming and groping them just right. Rolling your erect nipples between his fingers. Dave helps by thumbing your clit until both of them are inside you.

Javier's hair is soft in your grip opposed to the hard bugle of Dave bicep. You're just suspended between them. Too scared to give them the signal to move. Either one of these men could ruin you, Dave already almost has. Two of them together? Before being thrown back into the lacklustre sex life you had endured this last year? Men who couldn't find you clit with a GPS. Who spilled their load after a few pumps and asked if you enjoyed it. This might actually ruin you for life.

As Dave sucked your bottom lip into his mouth to chew on it lightly, you couldn't care less. "Fuck me."

The scream that left your mouth as they both thrust upward gave Maybe Amber a run for her money.

"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" Javier asked as he pulled back out a little.

"She's fine." Dave told him making no attempt to ease off at all.

"I'll be fine once you boys start working together." You grit out.

"Together, huh?" Dave raised his eyebrows at Javier.

All of a sudden, four large, strong hands find your waist and ass. They lift you in unison. Your legs are wrapped around Dave's waist. You silently thank the yoga classes you've been taking since the divorce. They've really helped that stiff hip. The hands now guide you up and down as the two of them fill you. You were completely new to double penetration, but since the opportunity presented itself. Why not? It was strange to be so full. It was almost too much. It only took a handful of thrust for you to come around them, and then it really was too much."Stop. Stop."

Javier stops instantly and pulls out. Dave stops and stays completely seated inside you. "Are you sure?" He rolls his hips languidly.

The overstimulation makes you quiver and cling to him.

"She's sure, Dave." Javier's arms wrap around you from behind.

It's a protective gesture that makes you weak in your current hormonal state. He easily pulls you back to him.

"Well then. I guess this is left for you to deal with." Dave grabbed the base of his cock.

Javier ignores him to lay you down gently. "I apologise for him. Can I get you anything? Water?"

"I'm good. I don't think I have it in me for all night after that. It was…" you let out a puff of air and your head is heavy on the pillow.

"Oh, I think we can get one more out of you." Dave is on Javier like a big cat on it's prey. He pounces, hand in Javier's hair, lips sucking at his neck. His free hand roughly fists Javier's cock.

The sound that leaves Javier is definitely a growl. It seems to be more directed at himself, as if he hates that his cock it currently throbbing in the other man's hand. In response, Javier grabs the base of Dave's shaft and squeezes. His teeth sink into Dave's shoulder. It's like watched two apex predators vie for dominance. It's all clashes of teeth and wrestling for control. Until they both get lost in the pleasure. They find a rhythm as they jerk each other off. They simmer down to long, broad strokes. Both of them look utterly wrecked, board chest heave together, precum leaks from their pretty cocks. It's enough to soothe the overstimulation with a fresh burst of arousal. You find your fingers skimming the soft skin of your stomach until they're almost where you so desperately need them.

Only to have Dave yank them away. "I told you you had at least one more in you."

"You did. Even a broken clock…" The sass and the shrug you give Dave delights Javier who pulls you in for a kiss. It's a passionate embrace of his lips at first then fades into a soft caress. Dave's hardness may have piqued your interest first but Javier's softness is even more intriguing. It's clearly something he keeps hidden under a cool exterior. You wonder what happened to make him so guarded.

"Why don't we just take you one at a time this time? Since that smart mouth writes checks your body can't cash? Javier?"

Javier is more than willing as his cock bobs between his legs with his moves close to you. He pulls you up to kneel like him. His lips as kissing trails down your neck and over your breasts. As he mutters against them. "How do you want it?"

"Hard, from behind. Like before." The memory of him fucking Maybe Amber made your pussy flutter.

At the party you heard a rumour that Javier and Dave were always booked. So far you had no reason to doubt that but Javier was certainly driving it home with his cock. He'd started slowly. Pulling your hips back and forth rather than fucking you. He called to Dave to look. "See how wet she's making my cock. Fuck. It disappeared inside her so easily, too. Such a pretty cunt." That's when he had started to thrust himself.

It was as if your climax was at the top of a set of steps, but you couldn't see the top. He'd fuck you to what you thought was the edge then pick up the pace and fuck you even higher. The peak you thought was in reach was really a plateau before he ruined you even further.

The closer Javier got to his own peak, the rougher he was. Now, he has you pinned to the bed by your neck. His body pressed impossibly close between your legs as he gave you every proud inch of his cock. The sheer size would have been overwhelming but he knows how to use it, too. As your legs shake. Javier moans from behind you. "Where do you want it?"

The thought of this beautiful man filling you with his cum snaps the tension building in your core. Your cunt milks him as you beg "Inside. Inside. Please. Oh, god."

Javier's hips are still moving as you spasm around him and his cock floods your pussy. Every part of your body tingles and you feel dizzy with pleasure. There's no time to recover as Dave flips you over. You are thankful for Javier's cum inside you as Dave fills you in one thrust. It aids him to glide right home. Lifting your hips, Dave has you nearly bent in two as he fucks you hard and relentlessly.

"I'll teach you to tease me. We both know it was me you wanted, not him." The headboard is banging wildly against the wall at this point. The sound reverberates around the room. It's almost enough to drown out the sound of the door opening and closing as Javier leaves for a smoke break. The grey cloud he blows out floats past the window and you swear you join it when another orgasm leaves you weightless.

"See you're a good girl, when you're not being a mouthy bitch." Dave muffles your response with his hand. For a second, sincere warm eyes replace his almost dead ones. "Is this alright?"

Looking him in the eyes you nod against his hand.

"Fuck. Gonna use this tight little cunt to finish in. Gonna give you another load in here. You little whore."

Wrenching your face out from under his grasp you manage to get out "Pot. Kettle."

Dave lets out a genuine laugh.

"Fair. You should ask for a job here. With this wet pussy and that fire, men would be queueing around the block. Fuck." He hissed the word. His thrusts were becoming sloppy.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll make you pay to fill this pussy every night. The first one is free. Come on." Everything in your body is so geared up for pleasure that it only takes a few circles of your fingertips over your clit for your pussy to clamp down on Dave. A mess swirls between your legs as both your cum and Dave's mix with Javier's. It leaks out as Dave keeps thrusting until he is completely soft and you've finished twitching around him.

"Oh, fuck." Dave's eyes widen as he pulls out. Your pussy is swollen, pink and dripping. Creamy fluid hangs in strings across your lips as he splits them with his fingers to watch his release drip out of your still pulsing hole.

"Shall we call this your job interview? I'm going to need some documentation." Opening a drawer by the bed he pulls out a camera. "Just one picture of this pretty pussy?"

"Is this a thing you normally do?"

"No." He says in all honesty.

The camera is usually a prop for his 'cheating spouse' bit. With his wedding ring still firmly in place people assume he's married so he leans into it. It gives some for the single people a dirty thrill to be chosen over his wife, to break the rules. He threatens them with blackmail, takes a few Polaroids, tells them he'll show people in their lives what a dirty slut they are. It's crude but effective. He sends most of the pictures home with the guests. A few insist that he keep them. He keeps a couple tucked away for when he needs help to rise to the occasion. Planning for two girls' futures means he needs to work a lot. Usually he's up for that, his sex drive has never been higher, but even he gets tired sometimes. He has to pregame, photos in one hand, his cock in the other until he's revived and hard.

This is the last first photo he has taken just for his own pleasure. At the end of the weekend, he'll be secretly thrilled when you refuse to take it. He hides it in his nightstand, and for the first time since the divorce, he'll take his ring off. Dave had fucked a lot of people in the last year, you were the first one to stir something other than his carnal desires.

Javier notices the tan line of Dave's missing wedding ring right away. He doesn't say a thing. He also keeps quiet when, one afternoon, Dave's headboard slams rhythmically into the wall at his head. He knows for a fact that Dave doesn't have anything on the books for that afternoon. He smirks when a familiar voice calls Dave's name. The smirk broadens into a smile for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he's happy to see another guy who was chewed up and spat out by the government getting something good out of life. Secondly, with Dave's cock otherwise occupied, there might finally be a clear winner of their little competition.

Javier enjoys his smoke as he takes in the view from the balcony. The thick layer of forest is so different from where he grew up. He makes a mental note to call his dad and check on how the repairs are going on the ranch. The cigarette is nearly down to his fingers when he spots Max Lord speed walking to the room he keeps downstairs. Javier can help the chuckle that leaves him as notices the white cream streaks over his boss's clothes. He can only imagine what Mrs Lord has done to him this time. Another chuckle leaves him at the thought of the depravity the two of them bring out in each other. He still remembers Max's whimpers as Mrs Lord suck his cock with Javier fucked her from behind for his audition. That's why they took to calling her Mrs Lord. The whole motel would happily warm her bed again but they respected her, and Max, too much. They'd given them all a second chance. Dio was saved from prison. They help Dieter through his rehab. Dave was desperate for cash after the CIA dropped him for someone else's bad call. When Javier himself decided that chasing Escobar wasn't worth the things he had to live with, he'd found a home here, fucking away some of his trauma.

Javier's trip down memory lane is cut short by the arrival of the motel's most mysterious resident. Din. The women with him practically swoon at him merely walking them to his room as they hang from each broad shoulder. Javier knows more about Din's sexual preferences that he does about his circumstances. He knows that Din often takes more than one person to his room. He knows the man has a breeding kink. He's one of the few men who isn't a little freaked out by pregnant clients. Javier is always worried he's going to hurt the kid, no matter how many times Mrs Lord and Kyle reassure him. As it stands, he is the only man at the motel, besides Mr Lord, to make Mrs Lord squirt. Beyond that and his kind nature, Din is a mystery.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #maxwell lord x ofc #dave york x f!reader #javier peña x f!reader #dave york x javier peña

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chaifootsteps · 1 year ago

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Hi, it's Secret Identity!Alastor AU anon again because I really love talking about Alastor potential that I know the real show will never showcase satisfyingly:

I basically just thought, why not let The Radio Demon & Alastor identity dichotomy be a little more Wizard of Oz & Oscar Diggs yanno? While no, he isn't powerless and could still theoretically still punch above his weight class, he wouldn't do so without great risk, and would generally go to great lengths to reduce the risk while maximizing the gains. Less raw power, more tricks, strategies and staging, every trick in his playbook is one he knows how to use well and adapt on the fly. A balancing act on a knife's edge. The Radio Demon would sorta be regarded as kinda like, either the guy that can help you out for a price or the roving boss fight that's gonna bulldoze you hard (sometimes because you pissed him off, sometimes because you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, could be anything for all the public knows), but until you're there in the moment you have No Idea what The Radio Demon's whims or intentions are towards you, and your best hope is to just avoid them, if you can.

Another thing about animal survival strats, is how lots of animals (prey and predator alike) will make themselves look bigger than they really are to discourage and ward off predators from trying anything funny, same concept with Alastor building up the Radio Demon's reputation and legend. The Radio Demon, terrifying, mysterious and untouchable, a voice on the airwaves, a half-remembered song, either your salvation or your doom. Kinda like fae rules in a way or something? Not to muddy the lore, no actual fae stuff, just the metaphor. Less Black and White morality and more Blue and Orange nuanced personal codes that make no sense but to the person themself pls lmao.

Also idk, I saw a post that mentioned that Alastor would've been better suited as a Peryton (a maneating bird-deer monster, even though it was made in 1957) instead of a closed-culture thing. He doesn't need wings either, designwise as to not infringe on Husk's silhouette, maybe he lost them as a result from a injury from an old fight? He's probably had plenty of those and not all of them were winners, he's made mistakes despite his best efforts probably, he could theoretically be hiding whatever's left of them under his jacket with padding and magic, similarly to how people headcanon he hides his tail with his jacket. Like... He's been in hell a while, and was involved and present for a great/relatively long upheaval of Hell's sinner's power structure, and if he's not untouchable, that means he's got the scars to prove it (and the ones that gave them are, probably no longer around). Idk, I could see that his allying with Charlie & her hotel project (and thus by proxy, Hell's Ruling Family, even if Charlie is having some issues with her dad, she's still Lucifer's daughter ffs) works twofold as building up the Radio Demon's mythos more, shooting for the moon, and Alastor trying to get a little more security for himself, some breathing room from something perhaps? Or who knows, maybe he's just actually tired (he wouldn't show it or spin it like that however).

Also, even though I know Alastor is in hell for a reason obviously, but I remember when the 'Day in the Life' comic dropped and I found it interesting that he just kinda, saved that sheep lady just because, no favors or repayment asked either, he just bodies the butcher guy (butchers the butcher) and then walks off. It could be an interesting layer, especially if it was an impulsive spur of the moment thing. Also Charlie & company's limited interactions with The Radio Demon through proxies & the Radio & his broadcast shows, and then a different but still reminiscent regular interactions with Alastor himself and vice versa. And I dunno, maybe it could spin out into something like, Alastor directly interacting more regularly with Radio Demon interests & other people AS HIMSELF while ALSO playing the part of the Radio Demon starts the blur the lines a bit over time.

Alastor doing a lot of this shit in the name of survival and the assurance of security, rather than boredom, could be interesting? Constant state of fight or flight, the stage never ends, maybe this was a mistake. The terrifying ordeal of being known, one of the things that could be called back about the comic but changed, instead of being so known and fear that people flee him on sight, what about Alastor keeping everyone at arm's length unless he's set & planned the scene to a T, usually a fight or a dealmaking or whatever, but would generally keep to himself unless it's Radio Demon business. But with the Hazbin crew, he really doesn't have that option with how it was set up, and now has to play another part he hasn't really played since he died up on Earth, himself (while also playing the Radio Demon in the background). Idk, somethingsomething potential?

An aside thing bc idk where to put it, I kinda like the idea that Sinners are just as mortal as hellborn but with maybe a better wolverine xmen but magic healing factor to keep the stakes of death and fighting in hell an actual threat instead of, 'oh who cares, nobody can really 'die' unless it's 'angel weapons' or dramatic enough.'

Okay this wasn't supposed to be that long but it kept going, and it meandered in even further AU, also like, idk if it's too fuzzy, this ended up being semi-stream of consciousness plot hook/char progression setup practice written at 5am lol.

Definitely love all of this, and I'm super into the idea of Peryton!Alasator because they're incredibly cool and massively underrated, but I've got to throw out the obligatory reminder that Wendigo aren't a closed culture thing. Controversial yes, closed culture no. That said, Vivzie's still full of shit to say "Oh, he's got Wendigo elements!" when she's clearly just latching onto it because Wendigo = spoopy. Man's literally as far as you can get from Wendigo country without standing in the gulf.

Everything else about this? 10/10, good shit.

#Anonymous #vivziepop mention #actual blog post

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'The second of Doctor Who’s 60th anniversary specials has arrived, delivered in almost total secrecy that did a lot to stoke fan speculation and theories. Not only were shots from this episode conspicuously few and far-between in the promotional material, no advance copies were made available to the press, which is why you might be reading this slightly later than normal.

Honestly, I’m still not sure what all the fuss was about. The need for secrecy, I mean. The fandom was absolutely stoked, of course, theorising and piecing together the words-not-spoken to create the expectation of a multi-Doctor, madcap romp befitting a 60th Anniversary Special. Get out of here, “The Day of the Doctor!” Fie on your lack of CGI Eccleston! This is clearly set aboard the Memory-TARDIS!

That… was not a thing that happened tonight. But before we get to that, it’s only right and proper to talk about the things this episode actually did accomplish, and there are quite a few of them.

Far from being a romp of multiple Doctors, companions, villains or anything else, this story was as close to a two-hander as we’ve had in a good long while. Perhaps Scott Handcock (welcome!) is already showing his Big Finish pedigree, since he served as script editor there for many years, but despite the truly lavish sets (and… well we’ll get to the VFX) this is very much a tale exploring how the Doctor and Donna relate to one another, in isolation, during their post ‘Doctor-Donna’ entanglement.

Let’s rewind a bit. The Isaac Newton pre-title sequence is cute, lifted slightly by the fact they change history and then keep saying “mavity” for the rest of the episode. (It’ll throw off every “Where to start with Doctor Who” video if that quirk sticks for the next 60 years.) Next, the Doctor and Donna arrive – well, smash themselves into – something that’s probably a spaceship, and an entity is clearly watching them while an emotionless, computerised voice says… “Fenslaw.” Fenslore? Trenzalore? Coleslaw? I dunno.

The TARDIS is gone, perhaps removed by the reactivation of its Hostile Activation Displacement System. (I could rant at length about the wisdom of this ‘feature’ even existing, but we’re on a ticking clock here. What is Den of Geek without its Doctor Who review?)

Whenever the voice speaks, the physical layout of the ship shifts. Panels turn, lights flicker, and it’s all a bit Event Horizon. This isn’t stopping the Doctor and Donna from summoning a tuk-tuk and heading down the Very Long Corridor, though, passing a Very Old Robot as they do until they get to the control room (for a life-form with a bum) and confirming that they are indeed on a spaceship. Not a starship, though, for there’s an astonishing lack of stars…

So. The tone of this episode, if we’re replaying the Tennant/Tate hits, is “Midnight”. It’s the unknowable, inscrutable aliens who function on blue-and-orange morality, and just like “Midnight”, they’re copycats. Unlike that episode, the fact that they can and will communicate, if only to predate and hasten their own agenda, somewhat robs them of their scary-factor.

This isn’t to suggest that there aren’t genuine chills to be had when we, gentle viewers, first realise that the Doctor and Donna aren’t really talking to one another as they start to fix the ship. But by the third-such encounter the conceit is starting to wear thin. You can only riff on “But only I would know, except then only YOU would know…” for so long.

The lengthy middle act is made up of a lot of this banter, and it’s a little too often that the imposters are revealed by weird, uncanny CGI arms or other distorted body parts, gangling, dangling and twisting in unnatural ways, rather than being found out through intellect. Sometimes the resultant transmogrification works, and sometimes (like when the fake-Doctor twists under his own torso and starts scuttling along like Zoidberg) there are chase scenes that harken back to “The Lazarus Experiment”, which was even in its time derided for being a bit visually crap. Giant tangled messes of Doctor/Donna parts with inflated features and Brobdingnagian grasping hands don’t help.

“Midnight” might have been right never to show us the monsters.

Lore-hounds will likely have sat bolt-upright and then been a bit saddened when Tennant’s usage of salt suggests that maybe, maybe this pair of nameless aliens are Vampires, the long-past enemy of the Time Lords, but this is not to be. And having discovered that the ship’s captain activated a very slow self-destruct (at the hands of the Very Old Robot) and with the nameless aliens inexorably as clued-in as our actual heroes, the race is on as to whether the teams will commandeer the ship, or destroy it and prevent the copycats’ threat from ever reaching our universe.

What really works in these final moments is the terror that the Doctor really did take the wrong Donna into the TARDIS before the ship exploded. Just for a moment, that feels like a sickening possibility. It’s also really undercut when we learn that he noticed a tiny, Sherlockian detail about Donna’s wrists that viewers would have been oblivious to, but then, that’s the Doctor for you. At least he didn’t lick her.

The TARDIS makes it back to Earth where – surprise AND delight! – we’re greeted by Bernard Cribbins, reprising his performance as Wilfred Mott in the one episode of this trilogy nobody predicted he’d show up in. It’s lovely to see him again, even if his role is a little expositional, and that’s us for this week.

I think the perception of this episode will change over time, once it’s divorced from hype and marketing and nestled in a long iPlayer/Disney+ list to be enjoyed in its turn. It is absolutely fine. There are some janky VFX (still Doctor Who, then) contrasting some glorious set design. Murray Gold’s score is stellar as always.

That said, I suspect the aggressive secrecy and resulting hype, which never quite got paid off, might salt the discourse – for this weekend, at least. But it’s understandable in hindsight! How can you show footage from a story that’s pretty much just two Doctors and two Donnas without spoiling the entire premise?

Even so, perhaps this particular outing might have been better served parked for Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson, who could still have had genuine reason to distrust each other, trying to take the measure of their new travelling companion, rather than 15-years-long friends trying to catch one another out via trivia.

Viewed through the lens of a 60th Anniversary Special treated with over-the-top secrecy, this doesn’t quite work. It’s also too disconnected to form the middle act as a trilogy of ‘movies’, which is how Disney+ seems to be classifying them, if this is how we’re meant to be thinking of the Fourteenth Doctor’s arc. As a standalone story, I enjoyed it more, though it’s not likely to catapult itself into my top 10 thanks to a few too many variants on the central copycat dilemma...'

#Wild Blue Yonder #Midnight #The Lazarus Experiment #David Tennant #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #Doctor Who #60th Anniversary #Millie Gibson #Ncuti Gatwa #Bernard Cribbins #Wilfred Mott #Murray Gold

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hrokkall · 2 years ago

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may we hear the general concepts of ur fics?

Absolutely!

In (rough) order of completion (though not necessarily in order of interest), we have:

Memento (Currently at around 14k; ≈3/5ths finished).

Five Leshy POV one-shots centering around the creation of the canon deathcards in the game.

I shared a WIP of this one a while back (which can be found here, though I think this segment has been edited a bit [x]) and more or less haven’t touched it since, whoops.

This is also the one where I’d have to either be really strategic or acknowledge the ARG because several of the Deathcards are ARG characters (though right now my plan for getting around that is via referencing the Inscryption beta instead… which doesn’t make sense out of context but it will if I can get the words down).

[Working title] Solitude (Currently ≈2k; I’d say it’s around 1/4 done, though in a really fragmented, workaround way)

The Scrybes contemplate their enmity.

Chances are this one will get done first just because there’s a lot of room for it to be extremely slapdash. As a result, it’s kind of rambly, so the majority of the work on it will probably be editing for coherence but hey—you win some you lose some.

Again, just a very rough character study to figure out how I want to write them in the future—but that also gives room to slot in fun headcanons (like the Scrybes being able to “feel” what goes on in their individual realms even if they can’t directly perceive it) which is the other reason I’m writing it.

[Working title] System Maintenance (at around 1k; pretty dialogue-heavy)

In which Rebecha learns new and awful interesting facts about the Scrybes every time she’s forced to pay them a visit.

Mostly written because I really like Rebecha and think she’s a fun way to show just how terrible the Scrybes blue-and-orange morality can be from an outside perspective (I.e. without their own obvious biases towards their own plans).

The segment I have written is Rebecha and P03 (hence the working title) but a “finished” version of this would probably have her interacting with the others too (as separate chapters). Might stop at just one though, who knows.

[Working title] Mustela erminea (<1k, probably going to get either overhauled or absorbed into something else).

The talking cards’ names and titles no longer bear any meaning to them; all that remains is the hate for their captor and the vehement notion that they used to be something else.

I cannot describe this any other way than it’s fun to write reverse uncanny valley effect with P03. It’s been a stoat for a while but still gets intuitively freaked out by its own heartbeat. Fun stuff.

The working title makes it obvious where I started with this one—again though I’m pretty sure this one will end up becoming something else (though I’m not sure what yet so it’s still being listed here as a standalone).

[Working title] Stalemate (<1k)

With his takeover of Inscryption complete, Leshy contemplates the role of his (begrudgingly accepted) collaborator.

For Co-Op and therefore very low priority (I like Co-Op, don’t get me wrong, I’m just in the mood to write more canon-compliant/sort of canon-compliant stuff most of the time).

Ridiculously bare-bones but is generally “Why did I choose to collaborate with this asshole” with the same sentiment in both directions. But per their general moral codes neither is going to go back on the deal so now they have to deal with each other and it’s Sucks for everyone involved. (Worth noting they still hate each other so it’s canon-compliant in that regard).

There’s technically a couple more but they don’t have much chance of being picked back up and/or had a couple of cool lines that have since been recycled into one of the above works so I’m not listing them.

#Re: Inbox #Re: Anon #Thank you for giving me an excuse to dump my concepts; I appreciate it #As you can tell I’ve never decided on titles in my life #Beca and 03 actually have a really fun to write dynamic and I have no idea why #They’re not even friends it’s just during repair 03 is externally neutral while internally *screaming* ''Do NOT fuck this up''#Whereas Beca is on autopilot and Does Not Care that she’s repairing what is essentially inscryp’s equivalent of a god

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albaitross · 10 months ago

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Reminder to self to flesh out and organize my girl's Persona/SMT verse at some point lmao lmao

(also possible verse notes below bc im still trying to figure it out but also might as well put what i have down in writing Somewhere before i forget again lol)

general stuff:

20+ lady, aroace - black hair and black eyes that turn red when she drops the human act, east-asian features

usually dressed in either the scruffiest of scruffy pajamas or looks like an elegant hostess. there is no in-between in her dress sense.

works either as a journalist or an editor for a publishing company, depending

is a half-angel, half-human existence i.e. Nephilim

thusly chased across the cosmos by both Law and Chaos - the former because she contrives divine Order by existing at all and the latter because her existence technically opposes the forces of Law, their nemesis, and thus they want her on their side

personally, she thinks this is all bullshit and would just like to live peacefully but noooooooooo the universal forces at play are Fucking Idiots

primarily lives on Earth, and is both fond of and skeptical of humanity's values - she likes how they can do true good and uplift their fellows, and yet, knows all too well that every human has the potential to commit despicable acts, if they don't outright succumb to such "temptation" quickly; this endeavor of moral grappling is prevalent no matter where and when she is, as she simply cannot understand why someone would want to do something 'bad' (though whether this is from her Law heritage or just simple human uncertainty is unclear).

despite the above, her personality is that of a cheerful yet coy person, used to acting in subtle and indirect ways - she is a generally nice and helpful person, but obtaining her assistance absolutely requires one to decipher a lot of cryptic speech and roundabout manipulations. and of course, convincing her at all to help; she wants no part in the power plays of Law and Chaos, preferring to remain a neutral bystander to practically everything unless it directly concerns her.

and due to all of the above, she has a weird view of herself - of what being half-human but also half-inhuman. at times, she's quite happy to be human, as she dislikes the blue-orange morality of Law and Chaos, but at other times, she dislikes humanity, due to their avarice and cruelty, and quite strongly thinks of herself as 'apart' from most ordinary humans, with extreme cases having her tilt firmly into a "not human and thus different compared to all these disgusting humans" headspace. overall and usually though, she sees that she's just another creature/existence in the vast universe, capable of all the same things, and as such doesn't think too hard about her own moralities (for her own mental wellbeing lol)

another thing she might like talking extensively about, aside from her philosophical psychoanalysis of humans, is the nature of truth - or rather, the fact that humans seem to not like the truth, and that the ones who do embrace it or at least willing to be open-minded are "worthy". this stems from past experiences trying to get people to believe her when it comes to supernatural things but constantly being brushed off until it's likely too late - she deeply sees herself as a modern Cassandra, as such.

game-specific details:

all games:

being half-human, she's capable of manifesting a persona despite kinda being half-persona already. if her persona is capable of evolving, she starts off with Satan and evolves into Lucifer and then to Helel - otherwise, her only persona would be Helel.

she can also see and visit the Velvet Room, but she would be treated more like a passing visitor who isn't really allowed to access the room's services (though she's welcome to just chat amicably with the assistants).

regarding roaming mob shadows - there's a truly random 50-50 chance that they will or will not attack her on sight. most are generally confused about her existence, sensing the human but also not-human part of her. that said, some factors do affect this: more "intelligent" shadows will likely not attack her, while shadows that be considered under the Law alignment are more likely to be aggressive with her. regardless, she is able to communicate with all shadows.

generally, she is associated with Light/Bless, Dark/Curse, Psy and Almighty elements. more lowkey, she is also associated with Fire.

P3:

capable of walking around in the Dark Hour with or without an awakened persona. she likely will not intervene with SEES, as she doesn't particularly care if humanity dooms themselves, but is still curious to see how things will unfold regarding Nyx - if they will give up in the face of their stupidity, or be able to fight what's to come.

post-P3, she's quite impressed with the protagonist for giving themselves up to become the Seal, and sees them as one of the rare examples of humanity's truest potential and worth.

P4:

lowkey on Izanami's side tbh, but still not actively intervening bc again, it doesn't really concern her, also she's curious to see what the Humans(TM) will do. she is absolutely able to enter the Midnight Channel and clearly navigate the fog with or without an awakened persona - but because she's still partly human, she can also manifest a shadow of her own while in there.

her shadow will likely be rather misanthropic of humans, but also all kinds of people and existences, wondering how everyone can force their own views and powers over others - but simultaneously, thinking that since she understands all this, she's undoubtedly better than everyone, as a person with "better moral mores", and that if anyone should decide the Order of the universe, it ought to be her and her insight.

P5:

honestly not a fan of Mr. Igor Impersonator, and is steering extremely clear of the Velvet Room throughout the plot. this also means that she utterly avoids entering the Metaverse unless she absolutely must, and generally tries to avoid directly being in the wardens' line of sight if so - which is to say, she can directly enter the deeper levels, but this requires a lot of effort on her part + she's more astral projecting her spirit into the other side, rather taking her full, actual self there, which can be far more dangerous to herself in addition to leaving her body vulnerable in the meantime.

(if she meets Jose, she will be very fond of him, because he's so innocently simple to her. she will give him all the stamps he wants sygyusgyusuy)

Also is not intervening in the Phantom Thieves matter, though she's still closely following the developments as she likes their rebellious spirit against the norms of society

she's most probably a journalist, so she will be quite informed of anything on the news.

when Maruki(TM) happens in the third semester, she will also be affected - her delusion is that she's a normal human living with a normal family. though, the whole time, she will feel "extremely off".

should she realise she's been put under a delusion, she will feel quite annoyed at Maruki, because she already knows that as much as she wants to be normal, she simply cannot, and the experiences she's had as a "not human" existence are deeply foundational to her own beliefs - putting her in a dream of otherwise is no better than enforcing control over others, even if it's for their own benefit. that said, she also highly empathizes with his ideals of making everyone happy. so overall, she's a little conflicted with him, and ultimately pities him as a human who is simply trying his best, however foolishly.

#ooc ;#au | watcher amongst the expanse ;

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kaffeebaby · 2 years ago

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With both of your posts in mind, I’d like to add on the idea that it’s not just about how the characters are “objectively,” but also how they present and see themselves. It’s more of a device to clue the reader in, not an absolute truth. Longish post with some examples ahead.

Gus and Mike, for example, give very little information out about themselves, and so they have neutral tones like gray, black, and khaki as their main colors. Even Chuck has a tendency to wear a lot of neutral tones, half of his cardigans and sweaters are either some shade of tan or gray. The characters that keep a lot to themselves or intentionally withhold their intentions/true selves wear neutral tones the most. Pretty much every outfit the twins wear are metallic gray shades, despite them being assassins, for this reason.

The most legal and/or moral characters are associated with blue-adjacent colors, and the least legal/moral characters are associated with red and orange, with yellow being the in-between, but it's also relative to their actions and the characters around them. Frequently, it’s about the choice that they’re making in the moment, or what they’re accepting as being okay. It’s not set in stone and is more about the emotional aspect than an objective one. I think it’s also used to show a character’s growth or decay as they slowly shift colors. I don’t want to equate legality with morality, but many of the characters embody both at the same time, so I’m mostly partnering them together, but they are different!

>Nacho has a lot of red coding because (In my opinion) he sees himself as being incredibly immoral, and he also tries to present as a hardened criminal when he’s actually in distress over his actions. In season 1 especially, Nacho and Tuco are the most lawless and immoral people Jimmy has come into contact with besides himself, and so comparatively they are red, despite not being all that immoral over all. It’s less about how they are objectively, and more about the perception and presentation of them, especially in comparison to other characters at that point.

>And when Chuck calls Howard with Jimmy’s phone, he’s surrounded by yellow lights, and the light from the phone is bright blue, representing Chuck being morally dubious and Howard being a beacon of morality in comparison. Though he thinks he’s being righteous, he’s doing something morally questionable in this scene, and the yellow lighting reflects it. Howard isn’t really clued in on Chuck’s intentions, and is just following orders, and so he isn’t morally dubious like Chuck is. No laws are being broken, but Chuck is being deceitful and backstabbing Jimmy.

Add the fact that Chuck’s entire house is light yellow, and... I feel like it’s making a statement about how dubiously immoral Chuck’s life has become, despite him being a more legal character in the show. All of the horrible things that went down between him and Jimmy in that house, I feel like it’s yellow on purpose, and also represents Chuck’s life as an extension. Though he presents himself as both legal and moral (and thus he mostly wears blue), the state of his life overall has deteriorated from the past into a more questionable state.

>Or, in the scene where Lalo gives Hector his bell, the two of them are surrounded with red lighting, and many shots in the scene have Nacho standing there silently with yellow lights behind him. Although he is still immoral in going along with the Salamancas, it’s clear that he’s not the worst person in the room. They’re taking delight in burning down a building and killing tons of people, obviously a red-coded moment, but the Salamancas aren’t always associated with red because they usually stay out of public sight and stick to violence in their own sphere. They wear a lot of black and white or other neutral toned clothing. It’s partially about their presentation, not just the objective morality of their actions.

>If I recall correctly, Mike initially wears a lot of blues with his neutrals because he is presenting himself as a law-abiding citizen, despite his morally and legally wrong actions in the past. Because the audience and other characters don’t know much about him at that point and have to rely on his presentation, he seems like every other random person who is probably more lawful than not. As the show goes on though, his clothes become more indistinct as he both loses himself and closes himself off from others, staying more anonymous outside of work and family.

I also think that the color rule isn’t so strict. It’s not like every outfit or shot is going to clue the audience in on if something is moral or immoral. It’s more of a general guideline. Like, key moments in a character’s storyline will probably have these colors involved in order to paint a specific tone and intention.

hi! I love your takes and I was wondering if you had any on colour in BCS? I've seen some commentary on blue = heroic and red = evil, but I was wondering if some clever person had put together a cohesive system on the colour themes gilligoud put in BCS

Sorry this has taken so long for me to get to - I had to think about it for a while, and color is BCS is a really big subject, so I'm probably going to make separate posts rather than just jamming everything into one. I'll use the tag #bcs color theory.

(Side note: I know that there have been interviews about the use of color, but I'm very bad at remembering them - if anyone has links, I'd be interested in them!)

So first up, let's talk about red. Blue = heroic and Red = evil doesn't really pan out. The two characters who commit the most evil acts and are the most unrepentant criminals, Gus and Lalo, almost never wear red. Mike, another committed criminal, also doesn't wear red. (On the other end, Chuck is most often associated with blue, and he's not exactly a paragon of goodness.) The character most associated with red is Nacho, who I think you'd have a pretty hard time arguing is meant to be the embodiment of evil.

Instead, red is a color of deceit. Nacho's storylines all revolve around deception and backstabbing, sometimes of his own volition, like with Tuco and Hector, and sometimes forced, as when Gus blackmails him into spying on Lalo. And it would probably be easier to make a list of scenes where he doesn't wear red than when he does.

The other character most closely associated with red is...Betsy Kettleman, a character who literally never tells the truth.

In Kim and Jimmy's stories, red pops up when they are being deceitful. The shot in the darkroom from season 6 is pretty explicit with associating red with lies

And here's a shot from season 1 when Jimmy is lying to Kim

Then there's the bright red "LIE" of their alarm clock

Kim also starts to wear red in season 6 when the Ham Scam is in full gear

Pink, which really is just light red, is also associated with Jimmy and Kim when they are dishonest. Kim is wearing pink when the consequences of her lies finally catch up to her

She's also wearing pink when she tells Jimmy she wants to continue scamming

Jimmy wears pink when he's picking up Lalo's bail money, which he lies to Kim about what happened when he gets back

He wears pink when he starts embracing his Saul Goodman persona in earnest in season 5

#i hope this isnt too rambly and makes sense #i think if red was a color of deceit then chuck would be way more red coded #but yes the idea that blue is heroic and red is evil is just. so not right #oversimplifying it by a lot with that dichotomy #its more complicated than that #bcs

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servicetopkaradanvers · 4 years ago

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Do you have any tips for coloring/shading? I always love how your colors look cause they're really nicely saturated but still well balanced

oh boy do I have some very strong opinions about color lmao

First, I’m morally obligated to mention that there are 8 million ways to approach digital color, so these are really just the Thots going through my head when I’m working on a given thing. For the sake of this rant, I’m gonna use this scribble of Kara and Lena from last fall, because it’s simple enough that I can easily illustrate some key points.

Most of the ideas I’ve outlined are about shorthand techniques that can easily and quickly use color to your advantage when you’re trying to sell the environment your characters are in. I’m not a painter, and painting is absurdly difficult, but we can use digital software to our advantage and consider how a painter would approach when lighting a figure/object/environment. Too many shortcuts are >:( but a few quick and simple habits can go a long way in finishing and posting a quick drawing you don’t want to spend hours rendering.

1. Pure black almost never exists in nature, and similarly, you will almost never need it.

Most illustration aims to “sell” a perceivable, believable space. While this is not everyone’s goal, most of what I draw is finished with an at least semiconscious goal of appearing touchable. Pure black is a guaranteed way to take away from that, because we almost never see it in nature. The darkest point in this particular drawing is Lena’s (terrified, dead) eyes, and it is only about 80% black and has some red/orange in it to help unify with the rest of the darks in the piece.

Here, locking my drawing layer and scribbling in some browns, blues, and even whites goes a long way to mesh the figures with their environment, especially because the background is lineless.

Here’s what this same drawing looks like with pure black lines. I would argue that this version does a disservice to the steps I’ve taken to light the figures, and it’s flattening the brightly lit outdoor space I’m trying to imply. There’s a whole additional essay about how lines play into this as well, so that’s a pretentious argument for another day.

2. Local color will rarely reach above 50% saturation.

Here’s the drawing with all the lighting work I’ve done removed (barring a few highlights I’m too lazy to turn off). In illustration, “local color” is referring to the color of a given object at the most neutral lighting possible.

The most heavily saturated element here is the artificial red on Kara’s cup, which makes sense! Printed logos, light up colored signs, things that are generally hard-sided and man-made will be more saturated. The next most saturated object here, and the only other local color exceeding 50% is Lena’s coat.

The rest of the clothing, skin, and hair falls between 10% and 35%. A neutral base gives you a lot of room to work with when you start lighting. It’s easier to go richer in digital than it is to accurately reel your colors in. Like any other kind of contrast, saturation can be used to pop points of interest, and if your entire canvas is TURBO SATURATED, none of it actually is. Also you’re hurting my eyes.

3. Natural light is cool, artificial is warm.

As humans, we spend 99% of our time either seeing the world lit by the sun, or by a lightbulb. Light from the sun is cool and generally diffused because it has passed through our atmosphere. Interior lighting tends to be warm and direct, casting clear shadows that come from a very specific light source.

Even if we remove the background, you would probably assume that Kara and Lena are outside based on the light temperature. Blue and orange are opposites on the color wheel, so an orange-tinted shadow (warm) will by effect make all the lighter colors look blue-ish (cool)! Pretty much all the shadows on these figures are just a faint orange Multiply layer. You’ll also notice a faint blue gradient over Kara’s shoulder to emphasize the approximate point where the sun is in the sky.

In short, cooler light and warmer shadow will imply that the setting is outdoors. Warmer light and cooler shadow will imply that the setting is indoors. It’s a fast and easy way to communicate character location.

4. Skin is weird.

If I’m just slapping some flat colors down and don’t plan to do much painting, facial features and skin have a lot of complex undertones, so if I don’t want to get into too much detail, a splash of red on the nose and around the eyes, a bit of color on the lips, translucent ears, can all go a long way to making flesh look more like flesh and less like barbie plastic.

5. Atmospheric perspective is much more important than grid (1/2/3 point) perspective.

This is relevant to color because color is the best way to easily portray atmosphere and the passage of space. Especially when your setting is outdoors, objects’ colors should become cooler and less saturated as they recede in space. The closer an object is to the camera, the more contrast you’re going to see in hue (position on the rainbow), saturation (richness of the color), and value (light vs dark).

#don't invite me to talk about art because I will wax poetic like an asshole for thousands of words #and there will be nothing you can do to stop me #mine #Anonymous

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olivyh · 3 years ago

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TWST FAMILY HCS PT2) Savanaclaw and Octavinelle

Feel free to tack on your own Hc’s too!!! I love reading what other people think and how their view of the characters and of Twisted Wonderland in general change from person to person!!!

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-Farena: We already know Leona describes his brother as being carefree and relaxed, but deep under that I think he’s a deeply intelligent man (how can you run a kingdom and be stupid?). He tries his best to make time in his schedule for his wife and child, and even try to get bonding tike with his younger brother (which never works out well). He tries to teach Cheka as much as he can, often giving him little life lessons while they play games. He’s a very kind and straightforward man, often being blunt when he doesn’t mean to. He stands a little taller than Leona, with Orange hair similar to Chekas. He keeps his hair tied out of his face as much as he can.

-Sister-in-law Kingscholar: A strong and confident woman, not afraid to speak her mind when she wants to. She’s blunt and she’d let you know about it. She’s also very kind in her own way, often dragging Leona off and trying to have serious talks with him, which he appreciates but doesn’t show. She adores Cheka and often spoils him without meaning to, and will spoil Leona too (but indirectly in a way similar to Ace’s father’s). Also very intelligent and good at reading people. I think she stands a little shorter than Leona, but she holds herself higher, and he slouches, so it looks as if they’re the same height. She has long yellow hair (again, similar to the ends of Cheka’s) that she often ties back as well.

-Cheka: We already know him, so heres a few Hcs!: He sometimes asks his mother to do his hair the same way as Leona’s, and tries to do everything like him (such as standing like him, trying to deepen his voice to sound like him, throwing sand at various objects in the castle yelling “King’s Roar!!”)

Ruggie:

-Grandma Bucchi: As he said himself, a stern and prideful woman. I think she’d be on the stricter side, having to teach Ruggie how to survive rather than him having to face those hard truths alone. She likely stands a lot shorter, likely 5’0 (sorry to anyone whos that height), than most other beastwomen. She’s a lot physically stronger than she looks, often still trying to pick Ruggie up at his age. She tries to spoil him when she can, trying to make him relax after working and taking over the household chores (which he declines, still cleaning up when she’s not looking- which earns him a smack to the head with a broom). She’s also a prankster, quietly jumping out from corners and scaring Ruggie or one of the other children. I think she feels a lot of regret over seeing Ruggie grow up so fast in the environment that he had, but she’s the proudest grandma ever. Whenever he sends pictures back she boasts to everyone at home (“See that! That’s my grandson’s school! See that there! He plays magift and is one of the best on the team! Look there! He’s got those nice ceremony robes!”), and even boasts about him with what little baby pictures they have (“See him walking at such a young age? Isn’t he so strong?”) Will never stop talking about her grandson, ever.

-Neighborhood kids: I think they’re like little siblings to Ruggie, so I’m adding them. They try to tale over what Ruggie did when he was at home, helping people fix up their houses or entertaining the baby hyenas when their mothers have other things to do. They also leave gifts to Ruggie when he comes back, between little dolls they made, bracelets they thought he’d like, charms, or pretty rocks and leaves. He keeps all of the gifts, no matter how small.

-His mom (bc the poor woman deserves a spot)(Poor meaning unfortunate)(The more i think abt it, both. It means both. Bad time?): I think she looked a lot like him, but with brighter blue eyes than his. She was definitely a prankster at heart, leaving clever traps behind for any poor soul to get stuck in. She was a very hardworker much like her son, taking on any task she could find to help out her mother. I think she’d try to leave as much behind for Ruggie as she could, which would include little notes and scribbles about how she was feeling throughout her pregnancy and how excited she was for him. Ruggie also kept all of those safe and sound, in a small box he keeps in the corner of his room.

(Can you guess who my fav chara is?)

Jack:

-Grandma & Grandpa Howl: A very loving couple, who always make time out of their schedule for their grandchildren, whether it be for school events, emergencies, or if any one of them want to come by and talk. They met when Grandpa Howl got lost and wandered by Grandma Howl’s family’s cabin (which happens to be the one they, and the rest of the family, still live in to this day) and he spent the night. I think they fell in love at first sight :’)

-Mama Howl: A very soft and loving beastwoman who is willing to sacrifice anything for her children. She is often strict, and sometimes a chatterbox, but she always reminds her children to stay safe and that she loves them. She always pats their head or cheek when she walks by, even if she has to reach a little to plant a kiss on Jack’s forehead. I think her hair would be a little darker grey, and she’d definitely be a little more muscular and taller, reaching six ft one when standing straight up. She’d have the same yellow eyes as Jack, and her hair would be cropped shorter due to her still moving around a lot.

-Papa Howl: Very similar to Jack personality and appearance wise. He stands an inch or two shorter than Jack, but is still very muscular due to working around the house and in the woods (chopping wood for the campfire, dragging around tools, carrying three wolf pups at a time in his younger days (only one now wants to be carried, which hurts the poor man’s heart a bit)

-Baby brother Howl: Huffy and a little moody, but a hard worker even if he complains while doing it most of the time. That’s often with his parents, but when he does something with Jack he doesn’t complain a bit. He’s very attached to his older brother, looking up to him for his strength and strong morals. He often compares him to superheroes and star athletes in his mind, but sometimes it slips out, resulting in one very embarrassed wolf boy and another very flattered wolf boy, ignore their wagging tails, it means nothing. I think he stands pretty tall for a preteen, around 5’7-5’8 and growing taller by the day. Same hair and eye color as Jack. Acts like he doesn’t like to play games with his younger sister but will never turn down a game of tag.

-Baby sister Howl: An absolute sweetheart. She just wants the best for her family and will do whatever she can to make what they want happen. Jack is hungry? Good thing she made her special dessert (it’s a poptart with whipped cream messily piled on top with sprinkles and literal sugar cubed wedged in it, but don’t tell her you don’t like it, please she’d actually bawl). Her other older brother is tired? She can get him extra blankets! Mama needs help cleaning? She can mop (she really just throws water on the floor and praises herself for a job well done). Papa need to cut wood? She can- no, she can’t. Please don’t give her an axe. She’ll cheer him from the sidelines with a song she made up just for him instead! She has their mother’s grey hair and father’s dark brown eyes, and loves to do her hair like the princesses she sees on Tv! (Yes, Jack will wear a too-small dress and Tiara if his sister wants to play princess. No, he will not let anyone take pictures.)

Octavinelle:

Tweels:

-Mama Leech: At first glance, a very kind woman with soft eyes. Willing to open her arms to anyone who might need help. Then, a terrifying grin similar to Floyd’s as that poor unfortunate soul realizes the trap they’d been thrown in. She’s very kind and patient towards both her boys and husband, as well as their friends (even of she is on guard near their friends, throwing a few hollow threats to see if it’d scare them away)(She doesn’t like to share her babies). She dotes on the tweels as much as possible, indulging im whatever curiosity they may have. Floyd wants to know what going through riptide is like? They leave tomorrow to find one. Jade wants to know more about life on land? She’ll find as many books as possible and ask (threaten) people for their land belongings. She knows when too far is too far though, and is very skilled at reeling the boys back in if they get to that point. Will always call them her little guppies, no matter how big they get. I think she’d have a teal bob on top, with the underside of her hair being black (which makes her hair look color changing when she swims). Im her human form shes only a few inches shorter than her boys, ranging around the same as Jack’s mother.

-Papa Leech: The definition of old Hollywood New York mob boss. Strict and blunt about his interests and problems, and not afraid to cause any problems if provoked. When the tweels were younger and they’d wrestle and bite at him, he’d throw them off him easily, telling them they need to work to beat him, even if he was impressed by their teamwork at first. Will die to protect his family, and was likely put in that position many times in the past due to his uh… business. He values his wife and children more than anything, and has done everything in his power in the past to protect them from harm. When they went to NRC at first, he felt defeated and almost wanted to beg them to stay safe with him (not that his pride would allow it).(Both the tweels can see through his facade easily)

Azul:

-Grandma ‘grotto: A very stern and prim octomermaid. What she says goes in the Ashengrotto house, and she often catches herself making unnecessary comments. She does apologize. Also a very loving grandmother towards Azul, often babying him whenever possible (doing the classic “you’re not eating enough here take some more” grandma move)(She will smooch his face whenever possible when there are no business clients nearby). Tries to boost his confidence since she knew about what was happening to him (Chances are she went through the same thing- being an octomer as well) and dod her best to protect him and make him happy. She taught him how to write with his tentacles and encouraged him to do his best in everything he does.

-Mama ‘grotto: Another businesslady in the front absolute softie in the back situation. Adores her son and is incredibly proud of how far he’s come.I think she looks identical to Azul, but more heavyset and, of course, female. She coddled Azul as much as possible, which worked out well with baby Azul’s clingy nature. She had no shame in walking around with the little guy stuck to her (unless he smacked a tentacle to her face when she was working on her restaurant), and made sure everyone knew what a good boy he was. She would show pictures to everyone (similar to Ruggie’s grandma), but respects his wishes in wanting to hide pictures of his past. She still shows anyone who asks pictures of him at NRC (compliments to the twins, who send her updates when her son is busy), and will tell everyone how smart he is and how much he’s grown.

-Step-Papa grotto: A very professional man in every aspect of his life, which stretches to his relationship with his stepson. When he learns about the contracts and Azuls UM, he’s over the moon with how happy he is. He swam around with a little more pep than usual, flicking his tail and flaring out his fins the more and more Azul told him. He helps him reword and format his contracts to his advantage, and is always willing to talk with him about Mostro Lounge or (on rare occasion) some memories before Step papa Ashengrotto met Mama Ashengrotto (which always make him happy that Azul trusts him enough). I think he’d be a pretty generic looking Mer, with an average looking tail and such

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slashbitch2 · 3 years ago

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Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

#eve fletcher x reader #mrs fletcher #eve fletcher

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tumblingxelian · 20 days ago

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Mhm, there's fun to be had with the erosion of the mind, but there's so many more twisty dynamics with there being a degree of agency! Plus yeah, there'd be a good number of true believers I think!

Honestly you raise a great point there especially as like, she's already altering herself, so she can try and weave in some Fox/Volpina like traits where possible too and it'd really sell that, that was like, a life redefining moment to her. "I am still Volpina. I am. I am the Feathered Fox." Plus I love that it adds an element of her lying about herself to herself, Given all the masks in her room, its like, she does not have a stable relationship with identity, so yeah that fits!

Mhm yeah, I tend to write Kwami as like, 'nice' but not exactly moralistic. As a general rule they most don't 'like' it when creatures are suffering, but that's kind of as extensive as their morals get. Theya re otherwise very Blue & Orange morality and if someone's actions with their powers align with said powers its hard for them to really feel too bad about it. Like Tikki wouldn't mind someone experimenting and creating deadly machines with her power, but then using them to destroy stuff is contrary to her nature, so she objects. But there's a lot of wiggle room to do some illicit stuff there & the same is true for the rest of them. (Glad you approve!)

Mhm, yes on all those fronts, and like, once you have had that power wouldn't you feel exposed with out it? Vulnerable? Better to stay transformed as much as possible!

Oooh I like that, very romantic but also shows the precarious position they are operating in.

Had some other thoughts on the "Scattered Miraculous, all grown up, multiple factions" idea thing, namely to do with Lila and what would be most fitting, threatening and interesting for her.

Long story short, cult leader.

My thinking is she gets either the Peacock, the fox or both. In the case of the Fox the lore follows these lines: https://www.tumblr.com/tumblingxelian/759051562632052736/fox-miraculous-reimagined?source=share

So she plays with perceptions, dreams, promises of hope and trades secrets and so on. Trixx is less than thrilled by these developments and also a little "Wait I can do that!?" However she's not much of a direct threat even if she's making a hivemind.

With the Peacock, she'd be using rebuild Kwami Lore Peacock, so this lore: https://princess-of-the-corner.tumblr.com/post/765925092116119552/ohoho-never-quite-know-what-the-question-mark

So her cult masquerades as a self help thing, that heals you, brings out your full potential, ETC, but you only get the full benefits if you give everything over to Lila & if you leave she starts making you frail and sick. Her elite enforcers have likely entirely superseded humanity and have skin like like copper and bones of steel, same for her.

Doosoo's also not thrilled but is fascinated to see someone experimenting with their power to such an extent.

In a combo of both she'd be the Goddess of the Cult of the Feathered Fox and basically be doing a combo, but that might make her a little too OP and there's likely fun stuff the Fox or Peacock could be doing with others too, so giving her too much feels like a waste.

Ohhh lila commanding a cult is fitting!!!! And also cool!!!! But most of all scary!!!!! I would say between the fox and the peacock, the fox is the most terrifying!!!! Because with the peacock, as i understood, she offer you a deal and if you accept there is no turning back beside death but at least at the start you had the choice(unless you were terminaly ill) butbyeah still manipulation can go a long way here!!!! But the fox she can just say, you are mine now follow me and after a while you will follow here(maybe, also yeah I probably over simplificated!!!! Butbyeah more or less that's the idea!!!)

also yeah giving her both while interesting is unncessary and too much power limit immagination so lila would experiment as much if she had both because she would have to powers to do as she please badically from the start!!!!

Also I think the peacock would be more fun to use and experiment with!!! And maybe doosu while not happy about what she is doing, is trhilled to finally explore her powers!!!! And might even cooperate a bit!!!!! Especially during experiment a bit more ethical that lila might do sometimes!!!!

#scattered miraculous idea #Match My Freak AU

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wordsnwhiskey · 4 years ago

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As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years ago

Text

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment.

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form.

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said.

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.”

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done.

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked.

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated.

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.”

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki.

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good.

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked.

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

#submission #demon alya au

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