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thebrothel · 1 month ago

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Heyyyy❤️ I’m here for the sleepover and I hope I’m not late😅 I don’t know what I’m asking for, anything honestly, but I’ve been thinking a lot about my man Nightwalks and his friendship with baby Vamp. I love their bromance so much and I’m definitely not opposed to be in that sandwich. So what if my car breaks down and it’s raining and I happen to walk to the brothel to ask for help and Nws and Vamp take me to their room to warm me up and Vamp is sweet and a little shy and Nws is 🥵🫠😵‍💫 asdfghjkl ya know, does his thing (this scenario brought me comfort when I was sick the last time🥹) I’m not even asking for smut. Just anything about these two will make me happy❤️😍

Love y’all and love you, Toxy💖💖💖

men of the night

After blowing out your tire, you pull into a sprawling, wooded estate. It's a foggy evening, and you get quite a scare. But your luck turns around when a mysterious man carries you to safety.

STARRING: vampire!Joel x f!reader x night walks!joel

LENGTH: 3.6k words

CONTENT: 18+ comfort, smut, minor injury, blood

NOTES: Love you, kate! I'm so happy these two bring you comfort. Ty ALL for your patience and support. Hope y'all enjoy this one. I do. 🩷

Your phone has been dead for a while by the time your tire pops. As your car hobbles along, you have no choice but to turn into the first driveway you see. Two big, steel gates are sitting open enough for you to pull in. Just after dusk, a dense fog has settled over the area.

What is this place?

You drive slowly, looking for signs of life. Someone you can ask for help, or at least to use their phone.

The road is winding. There are woods, lots of woods. When the tread falls off your tire completely, you’re still in a remote part of the complex, but you have no choice but to pull over.

It starts raining.

You get out your tire-changing supplies and you’re taking the spare tire out of your trunk when an imposing figure appears in your peripheral vision. You stare at the tire and freeze. Your heart races. You’d know that figure anywhere. That stance. But it must be your imagination. Michael Myers isn’t stalking around some remote old estate waiting for a victim to blow out their tire. It’s probably the property owner. . . or groundskeeper. Huge groundskeeper. By the time you find the courage to look in the hulking figure’s direction, he’s gone. You exhale in relief, but then–are you hearing things, or are there footsteps receding into the forest?

You need a minute. Deep breaths.

Several deep breaths. Eyes closed.

Then, back to the task at hand.

You start using the tire jack and a sharp corner slices a hot line across the heel of your palm. “Shit,” you whisper.

You’re staring at your hand when a gentle voice some distance behind you calls, “Hey, You okay?” You jump and gasp, and he says, “Didn’t mean to scare ya, sorry.”

You look over to see the silhouette of a man in a cape approaching. As his form pushes through the fog, you can see it’s not a cape, it’s a cardigan. He has the face of a kind professor. “Lost?” he asks, and his nose twitches. You stand up to face him, and his eyes fall on your bleeding hand. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters then yanks his eyes back to your face. He swallows and takes a handkerchief out of his cardigan then steps forward and hands it to you. “Here,” he whispers, then backs up and turns away to offer you a private moment, putting his hands back in his pockets.

You thank him.

His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, then he inhales through his nose and tilts his head up to the sky and mutters “Jesus.” He takes a deep breath through his mouth and composes himself, then forces a chuckle as he looks at you again. “All good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Sorry, I’m Vahh....” his voice trails off as he realizes how strange this situation must be for you already, without knowing his condition. “Vam. You can call me Vam,” he decides.

"Vam," you repeat, then share your name in return.

Your face is overcome with horror, but not at him. You're looking just over his shoulder, toward the woods. He turns to see what you’re looking at–who you’re looking at–Michael Myers, towering in a faded navy jumpsuit, mask and all.

“Mike,” Vamp acknowledges the enormous slasher, then turns back to you to explain, “He prob’ly just wants to help.”

You swallow and your eyes gaze over. You’re still staring over Vamp’s shoulder when Michael lifts up a big wrench. Your eyelashes flutter and your knees buckle under you.

“Oh, sweetheart-” Vamp lunges forward and catches you in his arms as you lose consciousness. “Oh boy,” he mutters to himself.

Michael is still standing there.

Vamp tells him, “Yeah–I’ll uh–you take care’a that, I’ll take care’a her.”

Michael gives a single slow nod, then goes to the stripped tire, tools in tow. Vamp holds you securely with one muscular arm, then the other, as he takes his cardigan off and wraps it around you. “There ya go,” he whispers to you in your sleep, then scoops you up. “I’ve got ya, sweetheart.”

It's not a short walk, and vamp does his best to ignore the beautiful scent wafting from your hand. He passes the front of the mansion and no one notices, they're all watching tv together. Something exciting. A couple of them are bickering. Others are glued to the screen. For a moment, vamp wonders if he's missing a watch party, but he's far more intrigued by you.

As the road winds around back and vamp nears the joel mansion’s basement, you wake up in his arms.

He feels your body tense as you lift your head up and ask, “Where am I?”

“My buddy's place, he’s a real good guy, we’ll get ya dry, and warm, get ya back to your car….”

He seems to carry you effortlessly. You can hardly take your eyes away from his face. He’s handsome and familiar. His eyes nearly glow. Is he real? Is any of this? You wrap your hands around his neck to get a better look. He presses his lips together and gives you a shy look, holding you, a stranger, in a bridal carry with his handkerchief wrapped around your sliced hand and his cardigan wrapped around your body. Your hair has gotten misty in the fog and drizzle, and so has his.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He exhales through pursed lips before answering, "I'm Vam, remember?”

Your eyelashes flutter heavily again.

“Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart” he reassures you. “You’re okay.”

In lieu of knocking at the basement door, Joel taps it with his boot a few times. “N-dub,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb you.

As the door opens, a man is saying, “No more edibles, man. You gotta…” but his voice trails off when he sees you in Vamp’s arms, wrapped up in the cardigan. He’s speechless. He steps out of the way.

He’s handsome, too. You’re in a daze, but god, he's good looking, and he's got this vibe, you can tell that much. He has a joint behind his ear and his eyes are slightly glassy. The place smells of weed with a hint of patchouli and shaving cream.

“Shit, man. Where’d you take her from?” the basement owner asks.

“SHH!” Vamp responds. “I didn’t take her. She was stranded in the rain.”

“She okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer for yourself.

“Michael scared her,” Vamp explains.

“Well shit, guess we’ve all been there,” the man with the vibe says and closes the door behind you.

You feel strangely at ease in the basement. It feels familiar, like a place you’ve been in your dreams or fantasies, but hadn’t fully visualized. At the same time, it feels foreign, like it’s a familiar place in a strange location. A little darker, maybe. A little off. But still, the strong sense that you belong somehow.

Vamp sets you down in an easy chair and they both stand there looking at you, then each other.

The pothead steps forward and squats next to the chair to have a better look. He gently nudges your chin to look toward him, and keeps his hand there. His eyes soften and he bites half his bottom lip as he admires your features, then says, “Well, god damn. . .” Then, as his hand leaves your face, his forearm brushes the cardigan and he feels the light misting of rain on it. “Let’s get you dry,” he offers, and nudges the cardigan open.

Hunger overtakes his face as he catches a glimpse of your body in your rain-soaked clothes. He doesn’t bother averting his eyes from your tits until you accidentally cough.

Vamp reacts, “we gotta hurry, she's getting sick,” and goes to check the closet. “Where are all your clothes?” he asks his best friend.

“Laundry day,” the basement dweller answers. “Shit.”

You ask, “You got a robe or something?”

“Uh, yeah,” he retreats to his bathroom.

Vamp takes the opportunity to discreetly tell you, “Hey, I think he’s kinda into you. So if he makes you uncomfortable at all…”

“I can handle it,” you smile, and you get butterflies at the thought. “What’d you call him? Indub?” you ask.

Vamp chuckles. “That's just his initials. It's Night walks,” vamp answers.

“First name ‘knight’?”

“No you say it like one word, nightwalks.”

“Nightwalks and Vam, huh?”

Vamp nods, then asks, “You want a bath to warm up?”

“Uhhh… I am kinda chilly, yeah”

He calls over to the bathroom, “Hey nightwalks? Draw her a bath while you’re in there.”

“Do what to the bath?” night walks laughs at the old fashioned term.

“Run a bath, man. C’mon.”

The water starts, and night walks emerges holding a silk, leopard print robe. He lets it hang over his muscular shoulder as he kneels to take your shoes and socks off.

Vamp leaves to attend to the bath.

You giggle and flinch as your second sock is pulled off.

“Ticklish?” Night walks smiles, eyebrows up.

You shrug demurely.

He prowls up the lazy chair hovering over you, then kinda hugs you, hooking one strong arm under your back. “Let’s get you outta this,” he murmurs.

You stand, and he helps for balance to make sure you’re not too dizzy.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, and he lets you stand on your own two feet.

He nudges the cardigan off your shoulders and it falls behind you. His eyes scan your body then meet your eyes again. You rub your lips together trying not to flirt with him, but there’s a cheeky sparkle behind your eyes. There’s something darker but equally charming behind his.

And there’s a calming energy that seems to waft from him to you. Comfort and desire is thick in the air.

He begins to take your clothes off, slow and intimate as if he doesn’t know how to do it any other way. His warm hands glide over your hips and up your sides as he lifts your thin, wet shirt.

He lets you keep on the undershirt for now. Not that it makes much of a difference.

He stares at your tits, nipples blazing through the damp, thin undershirt. No bra.

“Freeballin’,” he nods in approval. “My kinda’ girl.”

You can’t help but giggle at that.

He adjusts himself, making your loins buzz, then he kneels to unbutton your jeans. As he takes down the zipper, your face heats up as you remember the panties you’re wearing - they’re printed with a she-devil whose tail points down to your cunt.

“Oohh,” He coos nearly under his breath, “We got a bad girl here.”

You cringe at yourself and mutter, “oh, god,”

He looks up and doesn’t laugh. “My kinda girl,” he repeats, locking eyes with yours.

As he takes your pants down, his hands glide down and around your hips and linger on your ass for a squeeze. “God damn,” he whispers.

Once your pants are off, for the first time, he notices the bloody handkerchief in your hand. It had been tighter in the clutches of your fist before.

“Oh, shit,” he comments. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little cut,” you answer and glance at it to check. “It's fine, it stopped bleeding.”

He takes the handkerchief from you and discards it on the chair. He inspects your palm. “I dunno if I got any first aid shit,” he mutters to himself.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure him. He holds your hand, inspecting your palm, then looks at your face again. His eyes fall on your mouth and he seems to forget what he was thinking about. He wets his lips. “God damn, you’re hot,” he murmurs.

“Thanks,” you whisper, thinking the same about him.

He laces his fingers with yours as he steps even closer, then he brings his hands to your waist.

Your head tilts upward, watching him look back and forth between your eyes.

He leans in and your lips meet.

There’s a spark, more of a spark than you’ve ever felt, and he must feel it, too. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hand meanders and grabs your ass. “Mm,” he hums into your mouth. You put your arms around his neck and he pulls you against him. A warm bulge throbs against you, making you moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to murmur, “There’s my bad girl,” then he kisses you again and crosses his hands behind your back to take off your undershirt.

He takes a long, deep breath as he looks at your tits, then urgently pulls you up against him again, one hand cradling your head as he feeds you his tongue

He grinds against you as you kiss, and your fingers lift the back of his shirt. He takes it off, breathing heavily, then says, “c’mere, baby.” His lips attack your neck as his thumbs hook into your panties and pull them down below your ass cheeks. He gives you a little spank then groans into your neck.

Fuck, he's hot.

His palm slides down your crack and between your legs until his middle finger can feel your dripping hole. “Hell yeah,” he breathes against your neck as he reaches further. Then he breaks away from your neck and wedges his other hand in between the two of you to finger you from the front. The hand in the back palms a cheek, fingers spanning quite a distance on your skin.

He rubs you from the front and you moan. “Yeah, that's right, sugar.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly upward as he touches you, letting himself get absorbed entirely by the feeling of you in his hands.

You're hypnotized by the veins on his neck and the rhythm of his fingers through your slick.

The way he touches you, it’s like he knows exactly what you like. And his hands, they feel so…

“Oh, daddy,” the word slips from your lips and he replies, “Mmm,” and looks down to observe your face of pleasure. He grinds himself against your hip as he fingers you just the way you like. Like he'd done it dozens of times before - to you.

“Yeah, cum for daddy,” he breathes then nudges your forehead with his nose, prompting you to lift your chin for his lips to take yours again.

He moans into your mouth, the shape of his cock stiff against your hip through his PJs, his hand between your legs, and one on your ass.

As his fingers push you over the edge, you break away to moan, then stifle it in his bare shoulder, gently biting.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “fuck yeah.”

You cum in the palm of his hand, and he moans.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “fuck.”

He shudders and groans, then his hard-on throbs against you and a warm, wet spot spreads through his PJ pants.

“Damn,” he mutters.

A short sigh comes from behind you.

“Hey “ Night walks greets vamp matter of factly as he catches his breath. He looks vamp up and down and vamp casually covers his crotch, prompting a smirk from night walks.

Vamp clears his throat, “Bath’s ready.”

“Thanks,” night walks says. “Now I need one too,” he chuckles, then turns his attention back to you. “You’re real damn hot, you know that?”

He kisses you gently on the mouth then says, “finish this later,” with a wink. He pulls your soaked panties from your thighs down to your feet and helps you into the silk robe.

You make your way into the bathroom and Vamp lingers in the living room with night walks. Never judging, he’s simply raising his eyebrows in a question - how did that happen?

“Just happened, man,” night walks says, then squints. “She familiar to you?”

“Uh, YEAH,” vamp agrees. “Smells familiar.”

Night walks sucks his slick fingers and says, "Tastes familiar."

“Nice bathroom,” you announce, and both men file into the room to see if you need anything. “Never seen a bathtub this big,” you add, stretching out your arms, tits on display.

Night walks takes the opportunity to ask, “Want some company?”

“Sure,” you smile, and he takes down his pj pants.

“Room for three?” night walks asks on behalf of his buddy.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Night walks asks, “You wanna be sandwiched or wanna look at his pretty face?” He can’t let vamp sit behind you. Too much neck access.

“I’ll take the extra body heat,” you answer with a flash of your eyebrows.

Night walks gets in the bath behind you and settles his legs outside yours. You can feel all of him against your back. He sneaks in a squeeze of both tits as vamp prepares to get in front of you.

Vamp is a solidly built man. Not in a distinctly muscular way. A little softer than night walks, but he’s just so broad. His back flexes as he gets into the tub and rests back on you. His hair smells nice. And your tits feel amazing against his back.

Sandwiched between them, you feel their breathing. You just sit and feel it for you don’t know how long. Your breathing synchronizes. All three of you.

You’re almost lulled asleep--maybe you even are asleep-- until vamp gasps softly.

You look down to see a faint red plume coming from your hand.

“Oh, crap,” you react.

“He can take care’a it,” Night walks murmurs, sounding half asleep. “He’s got ya.”

“How?” you ask.

“Kiss it better, man,” night walks encourages, then sighs with how comfortable he is with you nestled between his legs, laid back on his chest. He gets a waft of your hair and sighs, “Mm.”

“You gonna kiss it better?” you ask vamp with a giggle.

“Sure, I can if ya want,” he offers and holds your wrist. He plants a kiss on the lower end of your wound, letting his lips linger long enough to inhale as much of your scent his nostrils can get.

It’s not just a kiss. To the naked eye, it’s just a kiss, but it feels like more. It feels like healing. It feels almost like...pleasure. He takes his lips away and the part he kissed is no longer bleeding.

“Whoa,” you whisper.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Night walks mutters over your ear.

“You want more?” vamp asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. No brainer.

Night walks takes your un-injured hand around to vamp’s abdomen and rests it on vamp’s thick, semi-hard, uncut cock. The shape under your hand sends a pang of desire down your spine and between your legs.

“might lose a little blood,” vamp warns. “But not much.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses your wound again, starting at the top and sliding his lips all the way down it. Then he shifts his lips a bit, and something smooth begins to slowly trace the cut as his lips slide back up the wound. You feel a suction along the cut, and at the same time, his cock stiffens under your palm. You reflexively palm his shaft, holding it against his stomach.

The suction in your palm feels good. Your nipples harden and a rush of pleasure shoots down your chest, then lower.

“Oh, god,” you whisper.

When he reaches the top of the cut, his lips break away with a moan, as you continue to massage him. “More?” he asks breathily.

You nod, “please.”

He repeats the process, ever so slowly, twice. . .and you go from massaging his cock to pumping it, until he’s coming against his stomach underwater, moaning into your hand.

When night walks slips his hand between you and vamp, you realize your hips have been moving, seeking pressure. Night walks finishes you off, and God, you cum hard.

Night walks’s dick is hard against your back, and you’d love to do something for him, but you’re utterly spent. Your palm looks good as new, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Vamp twists his torso to look back and check in on you. He idly tongues his sharp incisor.

You look at him, eyelashes fluttering and say, “You’re….” He closes his lips and swallows, and he looks away, expecting you to say that word he doesn’t like. But you don’t. . . “Special,” you say, making his heart swell.

“You too,” he whispers as your eyelids fall shut.

Your head lulls back against night walks and he asks vamp, “she okay?”

“Yeah,” vamp answers. “Most people can’t process that kind of pleasure their first time.”

“That’s why she’s passed out? God damn,” night walks says. “We’re the dream team, buddy.”

“Let’s get her to bed,” Vamp says.

—-

“This is all good, right?” vamp asks night walks as they get you situated nude in the bed. All three of you are dried off.

“Yeah, bud,” night walks reassures vamp in a whisper. “We’ve got a duty to act.”

“That’s doctors,” vamp replies, then lowers his whisper more. “Not….men of the night.”

“Shhh,” night walks replies. "we gotta keep her warm."

You stir and let out a sigh. Vamp is wearing silky shorts and night walks is in fresh boxer briefs.

They settle in on either side of you. After a minute, vamp whispers, “hey, n-dub?”

“Yeah?”

“Is she really familiar to you?”

“Yeah,” night walks answers unequivocally.

“Me too,” vamp agrees. “I think she–”

“Let’s talk about it later,” night walks whispers.

“Yeah,” vamp agrees.

“Get some sleep, man,” night walks encourages.

Vamp starts to respond, “I…” then doesn’t bother. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Sorry, bud.”

“It’s okay,” vamp says, then asks, “but hey, if I go in my restful state, will you rouse me if you're gonna fuck her?”

“I think you'll be ‘roused,” night walks chuckles. “But sure, buddy.”

Vamp gets up on his elbow, then hovers over your face. strokes your cheek and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers.

---

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I sincerely hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I did 💕. Ty kate for the prompt that kinda led me to write a comfort fic for myself too lol.

Note: in English, "woman of the night" is a tame or old fashioned way of saying female sex worker

#brothel sleepover 💕#vampire!joel #night walks!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#cw daddy kink #nightvamp

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buckarooranch · 9 months ago

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Howdy, partners! 🤠

We're thrilled to announce our latest release: the converted Short Paint Horse Mane + Frontmanes from SSO! We've been workin' our 'tails' off on this here project, and we're pleased to finally share it with y'all. This set comes in 27 different swatches that match right up with our previous release, which you can check out here. So go on, mix and match to your heart's content! 💖

We sure hope y'all enjoy what we've rustled up. Converting these ain't no easy task, but it's a real joy to share our creations with this fine community. We may not be able to upload as often, with our busy schedules and all, but we aim to bring y'all somethin' new at least once a month.

Thank y'all kindly for your patience and support! We're busy working on the next recolor, which will be solid colored as requested! Happy trails everyone, and enjoy the new mane and frontmanes! Feel free to reblog, share and tag! 🐴

Details:

- 27 Recolor swatches

- All the swatches are based off original EA colors

- For Adult/Elder horses

- Requires Horse Ranch DLC

🌻 ~ Howdy

Note: Because this is a conversion from another game and it’s still a ‘grey’ area all credit goes towards SSO and will always be available for free and they reserve all rights.

Some inspiration pictures:

Patreon (Free!) | Website

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genericpuff · 2 years ago

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LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 12 - STOWAWAY

<<< Previous episode | Next episode >>>

We're back! And with an episode that nearly broke the 30 image limit! This is part of the issue with the whole "some panels are blurry" problem, while I try to upload each panel individually to make each one as clear as possible for y'all, I can't feasibly do that when the panel count goes above 30 😅 So often times that means having to group panels together into image uploads :' 0

I'm sure y'all can see why this episode ended up being as long as it did, I wanted to give our guy ✨ CHARON ✨ his much needed spotlight! (congrats to those who won in the poll, RIP to y'all Despoina lovers but hang in there, we might get around to her at some point 🙏💖)

All that aside, thank you all so much for your patience and support! This past month has been wild, both with IEX and the apartment move. We're still not done unpacking in the new place as I'm typing this (it's Thursday afternoon rn, hello from the past!) but should HOPEFULLY be done by the time this episode goes up :3 Streaming is resuming this weekend as well so if you're reading this as soon as it goes up, peek in and say hi while we work on the next episode! <3

We also have a Discord!

#lore rekindled #lore rekindled comic #lore olympus au #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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elbdot · 7 months ago

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Gone for a week!

HEY GUYS! Just a quick heads-up, I'll be on a small vacation from today on, the 6th September, to next week the 13th! I'll COMPLETELY LOG OFF during that time, so I won't be replying to any messages I might get in the meantime.

Commissions will open up mid-September when I'm back home, I'll publicly post about it on my Patreon first before posting the form on tumblr and twitter too. I've also scheduled 3 posts on Patreon (1 new comic update included) for while I'm gone. When I'm back, another El's Alolan Adventures update will go up for early access on September 18th, so you can look forward to some new Alolan shenanigans this month 😄

See y'all soon, thanks for your patience and support!! 🥰💖

#mod #els alolan adventures

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moonchild033 · 4 months ago

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Here's some of the feedback from the 'FREE CAREER INSIGHTS' game. 🥰🥰❤️❤️

It has been nearly a month I guess but here I come with this 🫡😂. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the ppl who showed interest and participated in the game, especially for your patience and understanding. Having a busy studying schedule, I conducted this game as a token of thanks for the 600+ followers and all my lovely ppl who participated have shown utmost understanding, I truly truly appreciate it bcoz I took my own sweet time and didn't feel pressurized at all, but I guess I got back to all of u within two weeks max. except 1/2🤔.Love y'all (from the bottom of my heart 🥹🫠🩵🩵)

Secondly, I've been receiving DMs asking abt reopening this game, asking whether it's available rn, I guess I'll reopen it for 1k followers (hoping to achieve the milestone soon, in the nxt couple of months 🥺🫡🩷)

Again a huge thanks for everyone's support 🙏❤️

Let's Learn and Grow Together ❤️‍🔥

With Love - Yashi ♥️⚡

Masterlist 💖

#astrology #blogs #astro community #astroblr #astro observations #vedic astrology #astrology community #astro girlies #moonchild033 #astro game #thank you

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whoopsyeahokay · 10 months ago

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Housekeeping 12

October Sun

my gorgeous dears ✨

PART FIFTEEN of October Sun (Wally Clark x fem!reader) has been updated and features new content. please check it out below!

PART FIFTEEN

thank you so much for hanging in there, guys! i can't express enough how much your support and patience and encouragement mean to me 💖

y'all have my heart, ilysm 🧡

#housekeeping #Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #October Sun

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goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 2 years ago

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Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe ch 15

Juleka vs. the Forces of Chat Noir

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe (AO3)

Hi everyone!!!

I wanted to start out by thanking you all so much for your patience and ongoing support. 💖💖💖💖 I honestly thought I would get this chapter posted ages ago because it was 90% written before I started my spring semester. But then, (to absolutely no one's surprise) I ended up being very ambitious with the central project of my entire semester. That ate up pretty much all of my time and mental energy, which was why this ended up getting so delayed. But, I am now finished the semester on Friday and I spent yesterday finishing writing, and today revising. And now, here it is!!!

This chapter has been a long time coming (parts of it have been written for over a year 😂) and I'm so excited to finally share it with all of you. It ended up being way longer than expected, so make sure to settle in because it is a very long one.

A last bit of housekeeping. My eternal love and thanks to the my LBSC friends for cheering me on. Also a bug thanks to Min and Rierse for helping me remember what happened with some of the canon akumas and saving me from having to rewatch episodes. Finally, a huge thank you to Ver for talking me through all of my spirals and self-doubt I had with this chapter. Y'all are the best and I love you 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

With all that being said, again, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy the chapter!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

_______________________________________________________________________

The air was warm, but there was a soft, cool breeze slipping through the city, ruffling her hair and carrying with it the sounds of the city at night. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the warm light of the golden hour had been replaced by the dusky blues and violets of twilight. In the approaching darkness, the skyline twinkled with the lights of the city, now come to life. It was a gorgeous evening. A perfect June evening. Except…

Where was he?

When Ladybug had shown up on the Liberty, it hadn’t come as a complete shock—though she hadn’t been expecting her quite so soon— what with her and Marinette’s little talk in the shoe store. Honestly, she had been flattered when she had realized Ladybug had been thinking about entrusting her with more responsibilities. And she was only too happy to fill in for Ladybug for patrol for the next couple of weeks. She was just glad Marinette was taking the time to work on something for herself. And patrolling with Chat Noir would be… fine.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully…

And where was he anyway?

He was fifteen minutes late now and she couldn’t exactly start patrol without him. Well, she probably shouldn’t start without him, given this was her first patrol. But if he wasn’t there in another five minutes, she was going to start without him anyway. She wasn’t about to let Ladybug down. Not when she had come to her for help.

And not when she had looked so relieved when she had agreed to the favour.

She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky, painted with the promise of the oncoming night. The breeze ruffled her hair again, and she sighed.

She could definitely get used to evenings like this.

It was such gorgeous evening, she could just sit forever. But she had a job to do. And if relaxing on a rooftop on an evening like this was this wonderful, racing across the rooftops had to be even better…

She was just pushing herself to her feet when the soft thud of boots hitting the roof flicked at her ears. As she rose fully to her feet she turned to find Chat standing behind her, staring at her.

“Oh. It’s you,” he said flatly.

“Excuse me?”

Instead of answering, her tapped on his baton and a section of it slid open to reveal his communicator. He started tapping on the screen; she watched as his eyes scanned back and forth as if he were reading something. “I thought she was trying to make a joke,” he mumbled, a frown creasing his face.

“About…?”

He didn’t look up from his communicator. “About her calling in someone else to patrol.”

“And why would she joke about that?” she asked, crossing her arms as she watched him type out what she assumed was a message to Ladybug.

Finally, he looked up from his screen to meet her eyes. “Because it’s our thing.” He had left the word ‘just’ unsaid, but it was plenty clear in his voice.

“Well, I’m standing in for her,” she said tartly. He hadn’t even been here five minutes and already, her patience was waning thin. Maybe she should have just started patrol without him…

“You can go home,” he said brusquely, “I can easily handle patrol myself,” he grumbled. “I don’t need your help.”

“I’m here, like she asked me to be” she snapped. “Now come on, we’re already starting late enough as it is.”

Petty? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Chat shot her a sour look, and then without waiting, he launched himself into the air and toward the next roof over with his baton.

But it didn’t matter.

She would have no problem keeping up.

***

The night air whipped at her face as she raced across the rooftops and sailed through the air. Her feet barely touched the shingles as she tore across the rooftops. And she swore she flew just a little bit higher with every leap into the air. The speed with which they were racing was… exhilarating.

Even if it was so plainly obvious that he was trying to show her up. Or leave her behind.

Knowing him… it was probably both.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his mouth settling into a tight line at the sight of her keeping pace with him. As soon as he landed, he used his baton to launch himself into the air in an attempt to pull ahead.

Like it was some sort of race.

But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

And if he wanted to play stupid games?

She pulled her bolas from her waist and spun them, not missing a single step as she whipped them out to latch onto some scaffolding ahead of Chat. The air whistled past her as she swung through the air, pulling ahead of Chat.

He would have to live with winning stupid prizes.

***

Ladybug was already waiting for her in amongst the pile of stuff in the shadows of the stage’s scaffolding by the time she made it home from patrol. She dropped down onto the deck and ducked into the cover of the chaos of the the junk her ma refused to part with.

“How did it go?” Ladybug asked in a low voice.

“Good,” she murmured as she dropped her transformation. It had been good. Other than all the business with Chat…

Ladybug must has seen her thoughts reflected in her face, because her brows furrowed and her eyes were suddenly glimmering with concern. “If you don’t have the time, or if it’s stressing you out you don’t have to-“

“It really was fine,” she promised, grasping Ladybug’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze as she haded her the panjas bracelet. “Chat just… he wasn’t thrilled I was the one he was patrolling with.”

Something akin to the beginning of a grimace crossed Ladybug’s face. “I’m sorry about him. I told him… but I guess I should have given him more warning or something.”

“You told him. That should have been enough.”

“Yeah, well…” Ladybug said noncommittally. “Other than that, things were ok?”

“More than ok. It was actually pretty nice. Good way to blow off some steam.”

Ladybug laughed quietly, nodding her head. “Yeah, it is.” The laughter faded from her face, replaced by hesitancy. “I know I asked you to cover my patrols with Chat for me, but I was wondering… would you- would you be comfortable covering my solo patrols as well? It’s just, I- I’m working on a really tight deadline with this project and it’s really important to me,” she explained, her words tumbling out in an ever increasing tempo as she wrung her hands. “The first one isn’t until the end of the week so you would have some time to adjust. And if you needed anything I would just be a message away! My kwami can received messages even when I’m not transformed so if there were any issues or you felt overwhelmed I could-“

“It’s no problem.”

Ladybug’s whole body heaved with her sigh of relief. “Thank you, Juleka. You have no idea what this means to me.” Oh, she had a pretty good idea… “And I’m sorry to ask you in the first place. I would just get Chat to do solo patrols until I’m done but-“ Ladybug hesitated, obviously debating with herself. But then she sighed again. “I would feel better if I had someone I trust patrolling with him…”

“I won’t let you down.”

Ladybug’s eyes darted down to the panjas bracelet before returning to meet her own, a smile curling across her face. “I know.”

�� ***

Chat was already waiting on the rooftop by the time she got there. He was perched on the edge of the roof, one leg dangling over the edge of the roof, with the other propped up so his hand could rest easily on his knee. He was leaning back on his other hand, and his face was tilted towards the sky so that his features perfectly caught the last of the golden rays.

He was the picture of casual elegance and charm.

Easy.

Effortless.

And totally practiced.

She recognized the pose from one of the ads that had been plastered across the city a while back.

After the her first few outings as Purple Tigress, she had gotten the hang of landing silently, no matter the force with which she had jumped or fallen. But she let herself land with a soft, but still audible thud.

“M’lady-“ he began so say as he turned, his face already breaking into a suave smile before his gaze landed on her. His smile immediately fell. “Oh. It’s you again.”

“It’s me again,” she agreed as she made her way towards him. But he ignored her in favour of turning back to look over the city as he pulled up the communicator in his baton. He began typing furiously, and a second later, she heard the familiar sound of an outgoing message. Followed by another. And another.

“So…” she said slowly, drawing the word out, “are we going to patrol or…”

“I’m waiting for Ladybug.”

“She isn’t coming,” she sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“That was last time,” he said, still typing on his communicator. And still pointedly not looking at her.

“And this time. And all her patrols for the next couple of weeks.”

Another chime of an outgoing message rang from his phone, and his fingers stilled over the communicator. Then he snapped it shut and stowed it on his belt before standing. Finally, he turned to look at her with pursed lips and an exaggerated sigh. “Look, you’re a temp,” she raised her brow, and crossed her arms for good measure, but he continued on, completely undeterred. “And you’re still pretty new at all of this. But there’s something you need to understand.”

“And that is?”

“Ladybug and I… we’re in this together.”

“And now I’m in it too.”

“No,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. Like he was correcting a silly thing a child had said. “She and I are in this together. It’s been us from the start. And no offence, but you’re no replacement for her.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not trying to replace her. I’m just filling in for a bit.” He looked like he had more he wanted to say. Before he could begin to say anything else, she turned, glancing back over her shoulder as she loosened her bolas from her waist. “Now are we going to patrol, or what?’ Without waiting for a response, she snapped her bolas and swung herself into the air.

***

The wind whipped through her hair as she flew across the rooftops. They were going so fast, her feet barely touched the ground. It seemed Chat still had a point to prove.

Though what he was hoping to accomplish—what he was thinking he would accomplish if he proved his point—was frankly, beyond her. Did he actually think she would stop showing up for patrol?

Her bolas cracked like a whip, the sound cutting through to city noise as she latched onto a chimney and swung herself to land on the next roof.

“You know,” Chat grunted as he landed on the roof a step behind her, “I can handle this on my own.”

It was a funny thing for him to say, given he had been petulant about Ladybug not being there in the first place. “Like I said,” she said as she vaulted over a retaining wall, “Ladybug asked me to fill in.”

“You could go home early.”

“I’m not going to go back on a promise.” It took her a few seconds to realize Chat wasn’t running beside—behind—her anymore. She slid to a stop and turned to look back at him. He was standing a few feet back, frowning at her with his arms crossed. “Why did she need you to cover for her anyway?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“She said she had something she needed to work on, but she wouldn’t tell me what.”

“There’s your answer then,” she sighed.

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

“And why did she ask you to fill in for her?” he demanded, crossing his arms even tighter across his chest as he stalked a few steps toward her.

She couldn’t exactly tell him Ladybug had asked her to cover for her because she—as a civilian—had encouraged Ladybug—also as a civilian—to take time to do something for herself. Like make herself a nice dress for the dance she was going to with the guy she liked…

“I guess the same reason she’s asked me to help out in battles,” she said, feigning blithe ignorance and biting down hard on her sharper words. She was already getting a headache from his petulance, and she wasn’t in the mood to pick a fight.

Finishing one on the other hand…

“We don’t need you for patrols,” he said acidly. The ‘for patrols’ sentiment sounded like an afterthought. “Ladybug and I are perfectly capable-“

“She’s busy.”

“Well, I’m fully capable of handling it on my own. We never asked the other part-timers to help out with them.”

She shrugged. “Well, Ladybug asked me to. Now are we going to continue?”

Chat said nothing, but he sniffed as he brushed past her to continue along the roof. She bit back a sigh, but indulged in rolling her eyes as she turned to follow him.

***

The bright, late-morning sun filtered through the porthole into her room, filling the room with warm light from the way it reflected off of her dressing table mirror. Which was directing the light right into her eyes.

Squinting with disgust, she burrowed back into the somewhat dark depths of her sheets to shelter herself from the sun that had no right being so bright this early. Well, early was a relative statement. Couaffaines were not morning people.

And she especially, was not a morning person on the best of days.

The late night patrol from the night before—which had resulted in a Chat-induced headache—hadn’t exactly helped. That and…

In the relative safety of the shadows of her bedding, she frowned at her phone screen

Alya 🦊?! unsent a message

It wasn’t like Alya to unsend messages. There was the odd occasion where Alya sent a message to the girl’s chat instead of the class—minus Chloe and Sabrina—chat. But that only happened once in a blue moon. And she never bothered to unsend the messages.

The only reason Alya would unsend a message would be if she didn’t want someone to see it.

But she had sent it to the Adrienette chat… not the girl squad one…

None of the other girls had acknowledged the unsent message, and she hadn’t had a chance to see it before Alya had retracted it. She had been a little busy trying to will the sun to shine somewhere else so she could go back to sleep.

The little dots indicating Alya was typing again appeared on the screen. She watched as they appeared and disappeared before, after what felt like an eternity, she sent her message.

Alya 🦊?!: so r we still on for meeting at 11?

She frowned.

There was no acknowledgement of the unsent message. No indication of why she had retracted it.

Nothing.

It was… weird.

Rose 🌹💗: Yes!! I just have to let my nails dry

Alix 🛼 : gonna be late

Alix 🛼 : still at the park with Kim and Max

Alix 🛼 : Kim actually thinks he can win this race 🙄🙄🙄

Mylène 🌼 : I’m just finishing up some gardening

Mylène 🌼 : I’ll need a quick shower but I’ll be there

Rose 🌹💗: @Queen of Darkness are you alive yet, bijou??

Queen of Darkness 🦇: barely

Queen of Darkness 🦇: but I’ll be there

Like she would miss this meeting.

Rose 🌹💗: 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Alya 🦊?!: cool

She frowned again as she stared at Alya’s response, which felt entirely too short for a confirmation they would all be attending a scheming session. Alya was being… weird was the only word she could really use to describe it. And it wasn’t just the message that was weird.

Alya was always a bit weird, especially with all the Adrien stuff looking back on it now. But ever since the shopping trip, she had been especially weird. When she had, as offhandedly and casually as she could, mentioned it to Rose, Rose had simply brushed it off as Alya just being focused on getting Adrien and Marinette together before the school year ended.

But she couldn’t shake the way Alya had looked to her for agreement in the shoe store, or the look she had given her when Luka had shown up and derailed Alya’s scheme. And then there had been the text… the short, curt, and abrupt text that still had her on edge.

Alya hadn’t said anything since. And Alya was not afraid of confrontation. It was the little things. The little looks Alya shot her when she thought she wasn’t looking. And now…

That unsent message was giving her vibes.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was… it was weird.

She shook her head. Maybe it was something. But maybe it was nothing. She had been counter-scheming for so long, maybe she was seeing things where there weren’t any? Either way, it was obvious she needed a bit of a break.

Tapping on her screen, she pulled up her text chat with just Rose.

Queen of Darkness 🦇: do you want to go our for lunch after the meeting?

Queen of Darkness 🦇: maybe grab some frozen yogurt after and go for a walk in the park?

They were long overdue for a real date. And it would be nice to get off the boat and spend some time with just Rose. And hopefully, it would help her unwind and relax a bit.

Rose 🌹💗: I already have plans!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Rose 🌹💗: I’m sorry bijou 😭😭😭😭😭😭

She sighed. She had been hoping for a nice day out, but it would have to wait. She started to type out a reply when Rose, in typical fashion, continued her barrage of messages.

Rose 🌹💗: I would reschedule them if I could but they’re important

Rose 🌹💗: and time sensitive

Rose’s messages made her pause. It wasn’t unusual for Rose to have important plans she couldn’t reschedule. After all, when she was video chatting with Prince Ali, they were at the whims of his often erratic schedule. But Rose always told her if she was chatting with Ali, or what her plans were for that matter.

Rose wasn’t obligated to tell her what her plans were. And she never expected her to. But Rose always told her. Unprompted too. And Rose knew she didn’t have to, and that she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t offer the reason herself because she wanted to respect Rose’s privacy.

So it wasn’t a problem that Rose hadn’t said what her plans were. But it was… well, she couldn’t help but feel it was weird.

Rose 🌹💗: can I take you out tomorrow? 💖💖💖💖💖💖

Queen of Darkness 🦇: of course 💜 and don’t worry about it 💜

She let her phone drop from her hand to bounce against the mattress as she stared up at the ceiling, partially obscured by the sheets she still had shielding her from the light. Maybe she was reading too much into things. After all, people unsent messages. And Rose knew she didn’t have to share every detail of her life. But she just couldn’t ignore that niggling feeling in the back of her head.

And she doubted she would be able to get rid of it any time soon.

Before she could dwell on it further, or drag herself from her bed to start getting ready like she probably should have fifteen minutes ago given the time, the sound of footsteps against stairs caught her attention.

“Morning little miss sunshine,” Luka chuckled as their door squeaked out.

Groaning, she sat up, her bedding still bundled around her, and gave him the evilest glare she could muster. He was in an entirely too good of a mood considering it was still technically morning.

He was even humming as he made his way over to his side of the room. And smiling stupidly down at the bags he was carrying…

Her eyes zeroed in on the shopping bags he was carrying. They were all from thrift stores Marinette had, at this point, dragged everyone to. He had mentioned that he would be looking for something to wear to the dance this weekend. After she had pestered him repeatedly that he couldn’t show up looking like a dork. Well, as much of a dork as he usually looked.

“So, what did you get?” she asked as she emerged from her bed to take a couple steps across the room.

“Nothing that will interest you,” he started to say, trailing off as an even dopier grin spread across his face as he glanced down at the contents of his bags.

Interesting…

She moved to peer into the closest bag, but with lightning quick reflexes—that would have caught her off guard if she didn’t know he moonlighted as Viperion—he snatched the bag away. “You know I’m going to see what you’re wearing eventually, right?” she grumbled. “It’s my school’s dance, remember?”

“Yeah, well…” Luka mumbled as his face and ears turned a particularly interesting shade of pink. “Don’t forget, we’re moving up dye night because of the dance.”

“Like I would forget,” she said, scoffing at his blatant change in topic.

“And what happened to you last night?”

“Hmm?”

“That miniseries you love, you know, the one that adapts all those creepy short stories-”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It was on last night, and I was going to tell you but I couldn’t find you.”

She shrugged. “I was around.” Technically, it was true. Her patrol had ended about the same time the show usually started. But Ladybug had been late picking up the miraculous, which was unsurprising given Marinette’s tendency to get lost in the process when she had a project to work on. And rather than going out for an extra run and making Ladybug wait for her, it had made more sense to just hang around the Liberty. Sure, she had been hiding, but she had been around.

“Doing what?”

“It was the witching hour, do you really want to know?” With that, she threw on her robe, and hastily made her way to the kitchen—and some much needed coffee—before Luka could ask any more questions.

***

“Everything go ok tonight?”

“Yeah. It was nice to stretch my legs.”

“Great!” Ladybug beamed, her eyes vivid and sparkling. “And you’re all set for tomorrow?”

She nodded. Tomorrow would be her first solo patrol, and honestly, she was excited for the chance to patrol the city without having to drag along an irritable cat.

“Ok, then I can meet you at your place at nine-” Ladybug’s words cut off at her cringe.

“Sorry, I forgot, I might be a little late tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve got plans that probably won’t wrap up until half past eight at the earliest.” Knowing Alya, the meeting would definitely go overtime, meaning she would be cutting it pretty close. “I can find a way to bail…” But given the way Alya had been acting lately… it would probably be best not to leave early… Alya had been a little too pushy about her involvement and support of the Adrien schemes. To say nothing of all the… the vibes she had been getting from Alya…

“Hang onto it until the end of patrol tomorrow then,” Ladybug said, pressing the miraculous back into her hands.

“What? But…” Ladybug always took back the miraculous after battles and patrols. As far as she knew, none of the temp heroes had ever gotten to hold onto their miraculous outside of active use.

Ladybug closed her fingers around the miraculous. “I trust you with it.”

***

She had been looking forward to her first solo patrol. She had been looking forward to taking in the city at night in peace. Or at least, as much peace as could be found in Paris at night.

The point being, she had been looking forward to it.

And then Shadowmoth had just had to go and ruin her evening.

What was worse, he was interrupting Marinette.

And given how tight Marinette’s deadline was… she had no interest in letting this fight drag out.

“Taste my wrath!” Jets of molten cheese burst from the prongs of Fondoom’s oversized fondue fork and streaked through the air toward Ladybug. Ladybug dove to the side, ducking behind the cover of an abandoned car. The stench of sour milk, compost, something akin to Kim’s gym socks, and a general funk hit her like a wall with such force it almost knocked her over. From behind the car Ladybug had rolled behind she could hear gagging.

“That is revolting,” she gasped as she stumbled back a few steps, narrowing missing a puddle of gooey cheese. The last thing she wanted to do was get stuck in the stuff.

“Artisanal cheeses are wasted on the likes of you,” Fondoom snarled before lunging at her with his fork. She danced out of the way, nimbly—but narrowly—avoiding being speared by the fork. Just like the odour he and his attacks were emitting, Fondoom was relentless. His fork was a silver blur as he swung and stabbed at her, all while trying to douse her in molten cheese. She was too fast for him, but she was getting nauseous.

She unfurled her bolas from her waist and snapped them at Fondoom, throwing him off balance. He had to catch himself against the ground using his fork. But what he had failed to notice was how close he had gotten to some of the pungent puddles he had left all over the place.

“No. One. Appreciates,” he growled as he struggled to pull his fork from the cheese, “Fine. Cheeses. Anymore.” He wrenched his fork free with a roar.

“Not when they smell like that,” she quipped, snapping her bolas as he raised his fork, sending him skittering back to plant his feet directly in the cheese he had just freed himself from.

“Lucky charm!” She looked in the direction of Ladybug’s nasally shout, being careful to keep an eye on the akuma as he struggled against his own cheese. Ladybug’s yoyo shot up into the air as she pinched her nose shut with her other hand.

A pair of red and black spotted nose plugs appeared in a rain of sparkling light before dropping into Ladybug’s outstretched hand. She slipped one over her nose, and then turned to her. “Tigress!”

She easily caught the nose plug, and slipped it into place.

“Sweet relief,” she sighed, and Ladybug immediately burst into giggles. “What?”

“You- you sound funny,” Ladybug laughed, “And you’ve got cheese in your hair.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, having to hold back her own laughter at how oddly nasal and high her voice sounded, “so do you.”

Ladybug blinked at her, and then her giggles descended into howls of laughter as she picked her way through the cheese covered street. By the time Ladybug had made her way over, she was almost doubled over; they had to lean on each other as they tried to control their laughter.

“If- if my hair stinks of cheese after your miraculous cure-” she gasped between peals of laughter, “you owe me a bottle of shampoo. Make that three,” she added, playfully shoving Ladybug’s shoulder.”

At some point in their hysterics, Fondoom had managed to fall flat onto his back into the cheese and was well and truly stuck. And it seemed the civilians who had been cowering in the shops and cars lining the street had caught on that the danger had passed, as they were beginning to emerge. Vaguely, she was aware of some pointing their phones at her and Ladybug as they both fought to keep it together.

But it was hard.

Between how ridiculous they sounded and must have looked with cheese in their hair, and with how outright ridiculous this akuma had been—seriously, what had Shadowmoth been thinking?—and how tired they both were, how could they not laugh?

“We should- we should…” Ladybug wheezed as she wiped a stray tear and gestured uselessly at Fondoom, who had seemingly given up struggling against the cheese and was just staring forlornly at the sky, muttering about how ‘no one appreciated traditional cheese anymore.’

“I’m- ready when you are,” she gasped as she tried to push herself up from leaning on her friend.

“M’lady! I’m-” Chat’s breathless gasp snapped her out of the worst of her laughter. She turned just in time to see Chat staring at her and Ladybug, still leaning against each other and stifling the odd giggle. “here…” he finished, his voice trailing off as his eyes darted between the two of them. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Ladybug said, forcing back her laughter as she straightened up. “It was stupid.” There was still a ring of laughter in her voice as she tried to put on her professional smile. “We should deal with the akuma.”

“Right-” her grip tightened on her bolas, ready to strike them against the fork and release the akuma when Chat cried out.

“Cataclysm!” A streak of black whizzed in front of her, and the next thing she knew, the fork had crumbled and a dark butterfly had fluttered out of it’s remains.

Chat smiled smugly at her, before letting his gaze land on Ladybug as she purified the akuma. Once the silvery white butterfly had been released from her yoyo, Ladybug turned to her ruefully and slipped off her nose plug. With a grimace, she slipped her own off handed it to Ladybug, who promptly cast them into the air with a hurried cry of “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The swarm of Ladybugs rushed over and past her—hopefully removing the cheese and stench from her hair as they went—before swarming out over the street. By the time they had disappeared, the worst of the smell was gone. But a fainter—though still strong—aroma remained, emanating from the rather ruffled looking man lying in the street, clutching a fondue fork—now normal sized—and a box of Epoisse de Bourgogne.

“I just wanted to introduce her to the world of fine cheeses” the man mumbled dolefully as he sat up.

“Hey,” she said quietly, making her way over to crouch beside him. Gently, she rested her hand on his shoulder, ignoring the beep coming from her miraculous. She still had two minutes. “Maybe… maybe next time start with something a little less-” she stopped herself before she could say rank. “Odiferous. Work your…”

“Girlfriend.”

“Work your girlfriend’s way up to it.” The man offered her a shaky smile. Satisfied, she stood and offered him her hand. Once she had pulled the man to his feet, she turned.

“It’s been fur-ever, M’lady,” Chat said as leaned against his staff. “What say you and I have a moonlight picnic? All that cheese made me hungry.”

How? How could anyone be hungry after smelling that?

“I can’t, I keep telling you, I’m busy.”

Chat pouted as he pushed himself off his staff to stand up straight. “Too busy for me?”

“Chat…” Ladybug sighed, reaching up to massage her temples. But before she could say anything else, her earring beeped. And her bracelet was quick to follow.

“That’s one minute for me.”

Even if it hadn’t been, she would have said it was. She knew he kept sending Ladybug messages about patrols, and the last couple of battles, he had complained about it. Multiple times.

And he seemed completely unaware that Ladybug’s patience was waning.

Ladybug nodded at her, then turned back to Chat. “Can you help him home?” she asked, nodding to the man.

“But-”

“Chat.”

“Fine,” Chat grumbled.

Ladybug nodded at him, the turned to her. “C’mon. I think we can call it a night for your patrol.“Nodding, she followed after Ladybug. “Be honest,” Ladybug said quietly as they turned, “does my hair still stink of cheese?”

A bark of laughter escaped her as she shook her head. “No, you’re good.”

Ladybug giggled. “You too.” And then she cast her yoyo, and let it pull her up to the rooftops.

She was about to follow when she froze, feeling the invisible weight of eyes on her.. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder; Chat was still standing there, watching her.

Shaking her head, she turned, swung herself toward the roofline.

***

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Bustier said with another of her syrupy smiles as she hovered by the open door to the classroom, “M. Damocles only needs to see me for a few minutes, so take this time to review the stages of the Hero’s Journey, and then we’ll discuss when I return.” With that, their teacher left the room and headed towards the principals office, seemingly blithely ignorant of the fact that no one in the class was even remotely engaging in the lesson.

“And…” Alix said, dragging out the word as she craned her neck to look out the windows into the hallway, “she’s gone.”

“Did you guys see the pictures from the battle last night?” Rose squealed as soon as the coast had been declared clear.

“I missed it,” Alya moaned before flopping dramatically onto her desk. “I didn’t get any pictures,” Alya continued, her voice muffled by the desk.

“But babe, you told me you were heading there-”

“I got stuck in cheese!” Alya cried, sitting back up. “I was only a block away! And all those people- they were right there. The pictures were amazing! And it smelled disgusting!”

Marinette patted Alya’s shoulder comfortingly. But the motion seemed a little more awkward than usual. A little more reserved.

“They are pretty amazing,” Alix said as she glanced at her phone. She craned her neck to get a better look at Alix’s screen.

One of the many pictures taken the previous night was pulled up on the phone. It was one of the ones that had been taken when she and Ladybug were in the midst of their fit of laughter.

“I wish I had been there…” Kim sighed longingly. “What?” he asked, when met with incredulous looks. “Have you seen the way Tigress throws those weight thingies of hers?”

“Bolas,” Max corrected.

“Boas,” Kim repeated—sort of—“I would love to challenge her to a discus throw.”

“My money’s on Tigress,” Alix snorted.

“Mine too! She’s so cool!” Rose chirped.

“Yeah, Marc and I are writing her into the next issue of the comic.”

She bit the inside of her keep to keep her grin in check. It would look weird if she just started randomly grinning—of course, it was hardly random given she was the one they were heaping praise upon—but try as she might, the heat in her cheeks wasn’t subsiding. Under the ruse of doodling, she dropped her gaze to try and hide her flaming cheeks. But through her curtain of hair, she caught sight of Adrien.

Like everyone else seated in the front rows—excluding Chloe and Sabrina who seemed to be skipping class entirely—he was turned towards the back to be more part of the conversation. But unlike everyone else, he looked less than thrilled by the topic of conversation. Sure, he had his usual, bland, model smile pasted on his face. But his smile was tight, and his eyes were hard.

There was that green-eyed monster again…

“Yeah?” Mylène asked.

“Yeah, she’s been around so much lately, and she and Ladybug are obviously friends, so it seemed like a good choice to bring her in. Plus she adds a really cool dynamic.”

Adrien’s smile slipped at that.

Marinette’s on the other hand… “I think that’s a great idea, Nathanial! I think it’s high time Ladybug had a friend.”

“What about Chat Noir?”

Everyone turned to blink at Adrien. It hadn’t been an… outburst per se, but it had been… unexpected. Based on the pink tinge that was quickly rising in his face, it seemed he hadn’t meant to say that quite so loud. If at all…

Ivan cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Chat Noir and Ladybug have been together since the beginning.”

The others nodded in agreement. But she saw Marinette’s smile slip from her face.

“But it’s different with him,” Alya said. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Her, Marinette, or Adrien.

“What do you mean?” Adrien somehow meekly demanded.

Alya shrugged. “Sure, they’re best friends. But they’re also meant to be, so that makes their dynamic a little different. Tigress is a girl, so it’s only natural they’re going to talk about stuff Ladybug wouldn’t normally talk to Chat Noir about.” She didn’t miss the jealous edge in Alya’s voice. If Alya had been who she thought she had been, she was betting Alya had been hoping she would be filling the role of Ladybug’s friend.

It was more than a little ironic…

“That makes sense,” Kim mused before brightening. “It’s like how you girls talk about who you have crushes o- ow!” Kim turned in his seat to glare at Rose. “What was that for?”

Rose smiled sweetly at him, still kicking her legs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said innocently with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Right…” Kim said, shrinking back a little and warily eying Rose’s swinging legs. He had obviously received the message loud and clear.

“They seem like the kind of friends who would tell each other everything,” Rose sighed happily. “It’s so cute seeing that side of Ladybug.”

Maybe not everything…

But pretty close…

“Ladybug would never tell someone her identity,” Adrien mumbled.

She snapped her head to look at Adrien, but before her gaze settled on blond hair and green eyes, brown eyes behind glasses caught her attention. Nino’s eyes widened as his previously thought-furrowed brows rose to disappear under the brim of his cap as her eyes met his. He ducked his head to look down at his desk before—very obviously—turning his attention to Adrien.

That was… weird-

“I concur, Ladybug has always been very protective regarding her identity. However,” Max said, the light glinting off his glasses as he looked up from his phone, “they do appear to be very close friends.”

“Yes!” Markov added, “we have recently been analyzing resources on body language to update my database, and Tigress and Ladybug regularly display body language that communicates a deep sense of trust and friendship!”

“And even if they don’t share their identities, they totally seem like share everything else!”

“Maybe…” Adrien said, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. Disgruntlement was no longer showing through the cracks in his model facade. His brows furrowed as if he were deep in thought. There was a spark in his eye that reminded her of-

“I wonder what they talk about,” Ivan mused.

Her own brows furrowed as she watched Adrien. Why was he suddenly so-

“Bustier’s coming!”

***

For the second time since she had started patrolling for Ladybug, Chat Noir was waiting for her at the meeting place. In fact, he was early. It was… weird.

The first time, he had obviously been expecting Ladybug despite being told multiple times Ladybug wouldn’t be patrolling for the last two weeks of June. Every other night, he had shown up after her, all but dragging his feet.

She held back a groan. She was still a few rooftops away, but with her enhanced vision and her night vision—one of the many perks of the tiger miraculous—she had a clear view of him. He was sitting in another clearly practiced pose that was meant to look casual. Ladybug had told him—again—she wouldn’t be patrolling… but based on the way he was waiting… apparently that didn’t mean anything.

She was not in the mood for an argument tonight; all she wanted was to blow off some steam, make sure there were no signs of any akumas or sentimonsters, and then go home and curl up in bed with a book.

While she had successfully held back her groan before, she couldn’t stop a sigh from escaping her now.

There was no point in putting off the inevitable any further.

With the effortless grace her miraculous granted her, she crossed the rest of the rooftops and landed behind Chat. His cat ears twitched at the sound of her landing—it had seemed like a good idea to clue him in to her arrival before he saw her—and he pushed himself off the chimney he had been leaning against as if posing for a campaign.

He turned to her with a suave smile.

That didn’t drop the moment he saw it was her…

What-

“Tigress,” he greeted her, seemingly channeling every drop of charisma he had in his body into his voice. “How are you?”

Ok…

She had thought it was weird he was early, but she didn’t even know how to begin to describe… this…

“Fine…” she said carefully, watching him warily as he grinned and sauntered toward her.

“Good… good,” he murmured, almost to himself.

What was going on?

Had she missed something?

Had he been zapped by an akuma?

He tilted his head back to take in the lights of the city, and let out a wistful sigh. “Isn’t the city beautiful at night?”

“Sure…”

Where was he going with this?

As if finally noticing she wasn’t charmed, he turned to grin at her. “Look,” he said as he leaned on his staff and offered her what she was sure would be a charming grin, if not for the fact that she was utterly un-charmed by it. And wasn’t that a sudden change in tune… “I think you and I maybe got off on the wrong foot.”

And whose fault was that?

“I mean, we are practically cousins, after all.” That line? Again? “And shouldn’t family stick together?”

She would stick by Luka and her ma through anything.

Chat, on the other hand, was not family, no matter what miraculous she had.

But she would be lying if she wasn’t curious to see where he was trying to steer this conversation. And agreeing with him seemed like the most direct path to his intended destination. “Sure.” It was technically a sentiment she agreed with, just not in the context he had given. “Should we get going?” As much as she wanted to figure out the sudden attitude change, it was starting to feel awkward just standing around with him being so… yeah.

And she could just as easily get to the bottom of this while blowing off some of this awkward energy.

“After you,” he said with a bow that wasn’t the least bit mocking. But was plenty thick with obvious attempts at flattery.

Ok…

Casting another wary glance at him, she loosened her bolas and swung them to latch onto some scaffolding on the next building over.

Chat insisted on making small talk as they scoured the city for any signs of Shadowmoth. It was… she wanted to say it was a nice break from the open hostility and the pointed, green-eyed glances he usually shot her way. But in some ways, his sudden friendliness was worse. At least she hand known what to expect the last few patrols.

But this?

He obviously had some kind of angle.

He obviously wanted something.

“Tigress?”

She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts, and turned to Chat. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m ready for a break, want to take a rest up there?” he asked, pointing with his staff toward the Palais Garnier in the distance.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He nodded, and shot her what many would consider a winning grin. Then he took a running start and used his staff to launch himself into the air in the direction of the Palais Garnier. She watched him through narrowed eyes as he bounded across the rooftops, her frown returning.

So far, he had not been very forthcoming on what it was he wanted. It seemed he was more interested in laying on the flattery.

Thickly.

She had a feeling she wouldn’t like it—whatever it was he wanted—when she did find out…

Before she could psych herself out, she ran toward the edge of the roof and leapt into the air.

By the time she made it to the roof, he was waiting in yet another perfectly practiced pose. She recognized it as another pose from one of his previous campaigns. Sure, in the magazine he had been leaning against a bookshelf in the library whereas now, he was leaning against the base of one of the Lequesne Pagasi. But the offhand grace and winsome smile that were obviously meant to make him look approachable were the same.

She had barely taken two steps onto the roof when he turned the full force of his smile on her. Not that it had any effect. “You hungry?” Before she could so much as reply, he was already busying himself with opening a compartment in his baton. Carefully, he extracted a box and opened its lid before holding it out to her.

They were chocolates.

Expensive chocolates.

Expensive, chocolatey bribes if his sudden change in tune was anything to go by.

But sure. She would bite.

Carefully, she selected a chocolate from the box.

Just because she took the chocolate didn’t mean she had to take the bribe.

She popped the chocolate into her mouth. It was rich and decadent and tasted as expensive as she imagined it had been. Though she didn’t dwell too long on how expensive; some things were better left unknown. It was amazing. But-

“They’re good, right?”

She nodded. “They are, thanks.”

He smiled like the cat that had just caught the canary. He was obviously pleased with himself. “Have another,” he coaxed, holding the box out to her.

She complied. It wasn’t like she was about to turn down free chocolate.

And they were amazing. But as amazing as they were, she swore she could taste the strings attached to them.

She watched as he popped a chocolate into his own mouth and hummed in bliss. They finished the rest of the chocolates in relative silence. With every bite she took, the less she tasted chocolate and the more she tasted the bitterness of the bribe.

“So Tigress…” he turned to her, raking a hand through his golden hair and offering her a charming yet abashed smile that reeked of being rehearsed. “Can I ask you something.”

Struggling to chew the last of her chocolate, she nodded.

“You and Ladybug are friends, right?”

So that was what this was all about? What they had been talking about in class earlier?

Typical.

Thickly, she swallowed the last bite of her chocolate. “Yeah, she and I are friends,” she said carefully.

“And you two are close, right?

Technically, she and Marinette were close. “I guess you could say that-”

“So you tell each other stuff then.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. His eyes were fixed on her firmly now, and if she weren’t a tigress, she imaged she would have felt like prey.

But as she was a tigress… “A little bit, but not much.” She and Marinette on the other hand…

“What are her favourite flowers?”

“What-“

“I’ve always gone with red roses because they’re classic.” His attention was suddenly off her as he gazed thoughtfully out at the skyline. But just as suddenly, his eyes snapped back to her. “But maybe that’s the problem; so what other kinds of flowers does she like?”

Cherry blossoms. Peonies. Lilacs.

To name a few.

Luka could probably recite all of Marinette’s favourites in reverse order in his sleep.

“You don’t know?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, though there was a tinge of bitter annoyance, “that’s why I asked.”

“And you’re asking me because…” she let her voice trail off as she turned to raise a brow at him.

“The two of you are friends.” He said it like it was supposed to explain all the intricacies of the Universe.

“Yeah. But why not ask her? And why wait this long to ask?”

“I thought roses were the right direction. They symbolize love, you know. True love, to be exact.” He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair again, and shot her a a charming yet hopeless smile that she was sure was meant to elicit pity. “But I guess they weren’t the right choice after all…”

Because it was the flowers that were the issue…

“And girls like picnics, right?”

“What-”

“I thought they did. And they always do romantic, moonlight picnics in the movies. But every time I try one, it never seems to work. But maybe a picnic isn’t the right direction? Maybe I need to do something bolder?”

She bit back a groan. “Some girls like picnics, sure. But not all girls.” Of course, Marinette did like picnics. But it was always more about the company… “And I don’t think-”

“Ok, so no picnics,” Chat said as he stood abruptly. He turned, and began to pace, completely ignoring what she had been about to say. “But then what? Maybe a boat ride along the Seine? No… Too many tourists. The cinema might be fun… I could take her to see the new Ladybug and Chat Noir movie!” He paused in his pacing, then frowned before muttering, “But all our fans would probably be watching us if we did something so public, and that wouldn’t be very romantic. Maybe I could- no, that would be no good. A rooftop picnic is the best option for privacy but those haven’t worked before-” he whirled to face her, and she swore she saw the lightbulb go off over his head. “I’ve got it!”

Oh no.

“It’s perfect!”

Here we go…

“If you put in a good word for me to Ladybug, apparently girl friends talk to each other about stuff they don’t talk about with their guy friends,” he added for her benefit, as if it was something she didn’t already know, “then she’ll have to agree! And I can bring takeout from her favourite restaurant- do you know what it is, by the way?” he was pacing with renewed vigour and energy. But it wasn’t the aimless pacing of before. It seemed he was set on his plan. “And her favourite flowers? You never told me what they were. If I have her favourites of everything ready for her at the picnic then it will be perfect and she’ll realize-”

“It isn’t going to work.”

He froze misstep and turned to look at her. The mask of cheery camaraderie slipped. Just for a second. The it was back. But much more forced than before.

“Of course it will,” he said, trying to laugh lightheartedly. But it sounded just as forced as his smile. “It’s easy! You put in a good word for me, since she listens to you,” despite his obvious attempts, he wasn’t able to mask the bitterness in his voice. “And you tell me what she would want for a first date-”

“You can’t use my friendship with her to try and date her.”

“But nothing I’ve done has worked!”

She shrugged. “That’s life.”

He glowered at her. “So you’re just going to stand in the way of true love? Of destiny?”

Fate… destiny… the Universe…

Whatever he wanted to call it, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been standing in its way for the past few months.

She refused to shrink under his glower. He seemed to realize pretty quick that she wasn’t going to balk under his glare. “You just don’t get it,” he snapped, his face shifting into a petulant pout. “She and I are meant to be. She’s the only one who doesn’t see it. But she never even gives me a chance!” He stalked back toward the statue and leaned against it sullenly, kicking the stone of the roof for good measure. ”I’m just so tired of her turning me down. I wish she would just stop rejecting me and realize what’s been obvious to everyone else since the start.”

His words hung heavy in the air. With his tantrum over and done with—she hoped—he seemed set on moping. And frankly, she was long past tired of it. Of his jealousy-fuelled hostility. Of his whining and complaining. Of his sulking. What she was going to say would probably make him mad. But she was over it.

She just hoped it would be worth it.

“You know,” she said slowly, watching him out of the corner of her eye, “there is a way for you to get her to stop rejecting you.”

He perked up immediately, turning to look at her with the delight of someone what had just been told they were going to be told the secrets of the Universe. “Really? How?”

“It’ll be hard-“

“I’ll do anything to get her to stop rejecting me-“

“Stop asking her out.”

His face went blank. He stared at her silently, looking as if he was trying to puzzle out one of Mendeleiev’s homework assignments. “How will that-“

“You’re tired of her saying no?” He nodded. “Then stop asking. She’s already given you her answer-“

“But-“

“And she’s been way nicer about it than she needs to. And she’s given way more reasons than she needs to. No is reason enough.”

“You just don’t get it- you’re a temp. She and I have been in it since the beginning. Me and her against the world,” he sighed wistfully, “we were chosen to be partners. It was destiny-“

“And what if I had been chosen instead?” She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised she had asked that.

“What-“

But it was still a relevant question.

“What if I had been the one chosen to be Ladybug? Would you and I be destined for each other?” That felt wrong to say on so many levels. She sent a silent apology to Rose.

She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he spluttered out nonsense. “What- but- you- she- no. No. It’s different-“

“I don’t see how.”

He laughed, but it was strained. “Look, I’m flattered and all but you know I love-“

“Don’t be.” The beginnings of the casually charming smile that had been making its way onto his face fell back to blank confusion. “I’m seeing someone. And you’re not my type. Not even close. All I’m saying is, magical jewelry seems like a pretty flimsy foundation for true love. Much less destiny.” She stood and made a show of stretching. “Now I’m going to go finish patrol-“

“You’re wrong!” Before she could say anything else, he pushed himself off of the statue and vaulted himself off into the darkness, disappearing into the shadows.

She groaned. It was like arguing with a brick wall.

***

To say patrolling solo was a relief after the previous night was an understatement. She needed the peace and quiet of solitude to clear her head after all of that. And sure, maybe intervening in an armed robbery wasn’t exactly what she would call quiet or peaceful…

But at least it wasn’t headache inducing the way arguing with a certain cat was…

One of the masked robbers ran at her, viciously swinging the knife he was holding.

Really, he should have known better.

Easily and with grace, she stepped aside, using her arm to block the knife as she caught his wrist. Using his own momentum against him, she disarmed and flipped him to the ground in one fluid motion. His blade clattered against the ground, far out of his reach as she pinned him with a knee to his back.

The man grunted, trying to hit her and throw her off of him, but it was futile. He couldn’t reach her with his free hand and with her miraculous, she was too strong for him.

“Hey!”

Her attention snapped to two of the other robbers. They were—rather stupidly—running towards her, brandishing their crowbars. Without relinquishing her grip on the man she had subdued, she loosened her bolas from her waist.

Before the robbers rushing to attack her could even begin to rethink their idiotic plan, she had her bolas free and swinging. Their brash confidence turned to panic as she smirked at them, right before she loosed the bolas.

They streaked through the air in a blur; their whizzing melding with the squeaks of sneakers against tiles as the robbers tried to skid to a stop. The sound of distant sirens joined the mix. The two cried out as the bolas tangled around them both, knocking the crowbars from their hands and binding them together in a mishmash of limbs. They immediately tripped over each other and toppled to the ground where they continued to struggle uselessly against her weapon.

A sharp inhale that sounded an awful lot like a whimper came from the back of the shop.

She snapped her gaze to the fourth and last robber. His eyes were wide and wild with panic as he looked at her. What she could see off his face was stark pale next to the black of his ski mask. His gaze darted around the shop and landed on the window the robbers had originally broken through.

“You really want to do that?” she asked.

His gaze snapped back to her. He looked like he would rather do anything but try and go up against her, but he also looked like he didn’t want to stick around. Especially with the sirens drawing so close. The hand he was brandishing his knife with was shaking, but his feet were—albeit hesitantly—shifting.

Keeping a careful and tight grip on the man she was pinning, she feigned lunging toward the last robber. With a yelp, he skittered backward, tripping and stumbling over his feet to land on his behind. His knife clattered to the ground, and was promptly kicked out of his reach by his own flailing feet as he scrambled back and away from her. Directly into the back corner of the jewelry display he had been in the middle of emptying into his forgotten sack.

“That’s what I thought.”

Barely minutes later, police officers burst into the room with Officer Roger—he and her ma had had enough run ins that he and her family were on a first name basis now—leading the charge, only to find the robbers subdued. Or, in the case of the last one, cowering. After that, the arrest was quick with the only real delay being untangling the robbers from her bolas.

As the last of the robbers was led out in handcuffs, she turned to Officer Roger, who had coughed quietly in a clear attempt to get her attention. With an air of formality and admiration, he stuck his hand out toward her.

“Thank you for your service, Purple Tigress.”

As she shook his hand, she couldn’t help but wonder how he would react if he knew he was shaking the hand of Anarka Couffaine’s daughter.

Spontaneous combustion didn’t seem entirely unrealistic…

“It was no problem, I’m just doing my job.”

***

“So, how did it go tonight?” Ladybug asked as soon as she ducked under the tarps her ma had hung over the stage to cover it from the rain they had gotten earlier in the day. “Any trouble?”

“Everything was fine. Well- there was a bit of a robbery, but it wasn’t any trouble-”

“A robbery? What happened? Are you ok? I didn’t get any messages I’m so sorry I should have been there to-”

“Hey, hey,” she said, quickly placing a gentle hand on Ladybug’s shoulder to interrupt her spiralling. “I was fine. I’m sorry, I should have let you know sooner. There just wasn’t time to alert you and stop them so I just… went for it. And then I got caught up in giving my statement to the police and well… yeah, it isn’t really an excuse. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.”

She blinked in surprise at the force in Ladybug’s voice. She hadn’t realized it, but her gaze had drifted down to her feet; the last thing she had wanted was to disappoint Marinette or cause her any stress. She forced herself to look back up at Ladybug; she was staring at her intently, her blue eyes burning.

“You’re ok?” Wordlessly, she nodded. “You aren’t hurt?” She shook her head.

Ladybug nodded. And then she smiled…

And it suddenly dawned on her what it was that was fueling the flames in Ladybug’s eyes.

It was pride…

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“It was really no big deal…” she mumbled, her cheeks suddenly flaming.

“Hey, none of that,” Ladybug said gently. “Remember what Roarr said?”

She nodded, though she still couldn’t fight the flush in her face. Speaking of Roarr…

Quickly, she dropped her transformation. And once she had given Roarr a quick cuddle and one of the candies she had taken to keeping in her pockets incase of emergencies, she slipped the miraculous off and handed it back to Ladybug.

Ladybug popped it into the box she had waiting. But instead of closing the lid and slipping it into her yoyo, she stared thoughtfully down at the miraculous.

Awkwardly, she shifted her weight between her feet.” Ladybug…?”

“Hmm?” Ladybug glanced up at her.

“Is everything… ok?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh! Yeah! I’m just…” Ladybug’s gaze flickered back down to the tiger miraculous. Her spotted hand closed around the box, snapping the lid shut before slipping it into her yoyo. When she met her gaze again, Ladybug was smiling. It was a small smile, still tinged with thoughtfulness, but it was genuine. “I’m just thinking about something a friend told me a while ago.”

“Oh.”

Ladybug’s eyes, still burning, were also full of warmth. “Thank you again. For everything.”

“It’s nothing…”

Ladybug let out a quiet chuckle. “Trust me, it’s everything.”

***

“And… boom! He’s down!” Alix crowed, pumping her fist in the air, nearly punching Ivan in the face as she whooped at the video playing on Max’s laptop.

“I want to learn how to do that-”

“No,” Nathaniel said, emphatically shaking his head, “you do not need to know how to do that, Kim.”

“Dudes, how is her aim that good?”

She watched silently as she—well, Tigress—threw her bolas, ensnaring the two robbers. The security camera footage from the jewelry shop had been pulled, and had ended up on the late night news last night. And the early morning news…

“She didn’t even have to do anything to take out that last guy,” Mylène murmured in awe, her eyes glued to the screen.

“She’s pretty tough,” Ivan agreed.

“She’s a total badass is what she is!” Alix corrected.

She tipped her head forward, letting her curtain of hair conceal the grin she couldn’t wipe from her face and her cheeks, which given how warm they were had to been tinged pink. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adrien roll his eyes. He looked like he had just swallowed a lemon.

“Yeah,” Marinette said as she watched the footage play for the umpteenth time, a wide grin on her face. “She’s incredible!”

Before she could completely combust from compliment overload, Rose hummed thoughtfully. She turned to look at her girlfriend just in time to see Rose tilt her head to the side, her brows furrowed, as she watched to footage.

“I wonder if Ladybug will make her a permanent hero?”

“There’s no way!”

Everyone turned to stare at Adrien. His hands were splayed on the table—he hadn’t quite slammed the table but he looked like he had come pretty close—and his mouth was a tight, twisted line. But as he seemed to realize everyone was suddenly looking at him, his face shifted, his cheeks turning pink. But the sourness in his eyes hadn’t fully vanished, even as embarrassment seemed to overtake him.

“Why not, dude?”

“Well, because…” Adrien began to flounder.

“She has been at almost all of the most recent battles,” Nathaniel said absently.

“And her presence during those battles has improved the efficiency with which akumas and sentimonsters are dealt with,” Max added.

“It is true! We did the calculations ourselves!”

Max nodded. “Additionally, it seems she has been added to the patrol roster.”

“Yeah, well…”

“But none of the other heroes were ever made permanent,” Alya noted, a tinge of jealousy creeping into her voice.

It seemed Adrien had found the life line he needed, and he latched on. “Exactly. It’s always been Ladybug and Chat Noir! The black cat and ladybug from the start. Creation and destruction. Yin and yang. ”

“So?”

She wasn’t sure who out the class was most shocked by Marinette’s question, but for his part, Adrien looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“Adding another full time hero would throw off the balance,” he replied with the utmost confidence and assuredness.

And yet…

“It’s always been the two of them. Why mess with destiny?”

It seemed Adrien wasn’t so much clinging to a life line as he was grasping at straws.

***

Chat glared at her as soon as he landed on the roof.

It seemed they were back to that…

“You’re here again,” he muttered.

She stood, and took a breath. “I am.” Already, she could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“Look,” he said, crossing his arms as he stalked across the roof towards her, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it isn’t going to work.”

Game?

He thought this was a game?

Why did that not surprise her?

“There is no game-”

“Then whatever this is,” he hissed, gesturing to her, “this ‘trying to replace Ladybug’ thing-”

“I’m not trying to replace Ladybug!” she all but shouted.

“I never see her anymore! Except for during akuma attacks.” It was almost impressive how he was able to hiss and whine at the same time. “It’s always you.”

“I told you, she’s busy.”

“She’s always too busy for me these days-“

Something she deeply admired about her brother was his ability to stay cool. Especially with a ma like theirs. He was slow to anger, and even slower to act on that anger. And his patience at times seemed near infinite. Sometimes to his detriment.

But is was still something she admired about Luka. And something she tried to emulate.

And she had tried.

She really had.

The last thing she wanted to do was make things awkward or more difficult for Ladybug in any way.

But there was only so much she could take.

And she was at her limits.

Past them, actually.

“It isn’t about you!” she snapped. “She’s busy. She has things she needs to do.”

“So she goes to you instead of me?”

“She asked. And if she hadn’t, I would have offered.” Chat snorted. “It’s not fair that she has to do so much on her own.”

“She isn’t on her own! She has me! That should be enough.” Chat threw his arms in the air, turned, stalked a few steps away, and then whirled back to face her as he gestured to himself. “If she wanted more help, she should have asked me!”

“You’re her partner?”

“Her only partner,” he said coldly.

“Then she shouldn’t have to ask you to step up.”

“She and I have kissed! Multiple times!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“She and I are partners. Soul mates. How is that not destiny?”

“Let me count the ways.” She held up a single finger. “If you have to have all your memories erased in order for someone to kiss you, your ‘destiny’ is looking pretty grim.”

“The Oblivio thing happened one time! We didn’t have amnesia the other-“

“Yeah,” she held up a second finger, “Nothing says romance like having to kiss someone because they’re brainwashed and trying to bash your brains out.”

“You’re just jealous,” Chat spat.

“Of who? Of what?”

“I-“

“I’m seeing someone. She and I are-”

“She?”

“Yes, she. And no, I’m not dating Ladybug, nor do I want to. She and I are friends. Good friends. But that’s it. Or do you think I’m jealous that you’re her ‘partner?’” He opened his mouth to retort, but she was done listening to his ludicrous accusations. “I’m here to do a job. A job she asked me to do. And I’m going to do my job to the best of my abilities, and have her back because that’s what she needs of me. And I am not going to let her down.”

He planted his staff against the roof hard enough for the sound to cut her off. Momentarily. Before he could open his mouth again, she she drew herself up to her full height and stepped forward with the force of the words flowing out of her mouth.

“You don’t own her. And she doesn’t owe you her love. So stop acting like it and step up and do your job.”

Her chest was heaving; she hadn’t expected to get so into it with him.

She hadn’t necessarily meant to.

But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Not even a little bit.

She had meant every word she had said.

He glowered at her.

And then he turned tail and disappeared into the darkness.

***

She grit her teeth as she flexed her claws.

Why?

Why tonight?

Why couldn’t Shadowmoth just chill?

Marinette didn’t have much time left to work on her dress. The dance was the day after tomorrow. She had said she would be done her dress on time, but that had been earlier in the day. When the girls had been pestering her for a sneak peek—because Marinette had been very tightlipped about her dress—when she had thought she would have the entire evening.

Except now, they were dealing with a category five akuma.

And it was not going well.

With a furious cry, she slashed at the net the akuma had trapped her in, shredding it to pieces and freeing herself and the civilians she had been trying to evacuate. The tattered remains of the net floated down to the ground around her as she scowled at her surroundings.

Chat was supposed to be covering her.

And she would hardly call his half-hearted shout of warning as the net was already twisting itself around her and the civilians sufficient.

At least Exterminator’s attention was wholly focused on Chat now. Snapping her attention back to the civilians, she ushered them into the closest alleyway. “Get as far away as possible, and stay out of sight. I don’t know how long this is going to take,” she said before turning tail and sprinting back into the street.

Already, this akuma fight was taking longer than it should have, with the multitude of traps the akuma kept setting. And she was not feeling optimistic about it wrapping up anytime soon.

“Don’t you know cats were the original pest control?” Chat laughed from where he was perched on his staff in the middle of the street, laughing as he watched Exterminator struggle back to his feet. “You really think you can catch me?” Chat smirked in her direction as she ran past the shredded net, his eyes flashing.

Rude.

She skidded to a halt just in time to see Exterminator’s smirk, and the quick flick of his wrist that sent a roll of oversized white paper unfurling along the street under Chat’s perch.

Her eyes widened.

“Chat! Look out!”

Whether he was too busy gloating or just didn’t bother to heed her warning was unclear. She was already in motion, rushing toward him, but she was too late. She watched as Exterminator pulled out what would have been a comically enormous fly swatter if the circumstances weren’t so dire, and hit Chat’s staff out from under him.

Chat’s laugh cut off in a yelp as he fell toward the street.

Somehow, he managed to land on his feet.

Directly on the trap Exterminator had laid.

Chat laughed as he straightened to his full height. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked before trying to move to retrieve his baton. He yelped as his upper body moved while his feet stayed stuck, firmly in place. He had to frantically windmill his arms to keep himself from overbalancing and getting even more stuck on the giant roll of fly paper he had landed on.

“This city’s had a problem with alley cats for a while now,” Exterminator spat, “but this’ll show everyone that I’m the best Paris has to offer for pest control! Now it’s time to skin two cats with one stone…” Exterminator started to turn, and she dropped to the ground and slid behind the cover of an overturned bus. “…and then I can move onto the bug- where is she?”

She took a deep breath as the akuma’s roars echoed through the street.

This was good.

If he was busy looking for her, that would keep him busy while she freed Chat and waited for Ladybug to return.

“Camouflage.”

On silent feet, she skirted around Exterminator, giving him a wide berth as he scoured the street. By the time she made it over the Chat, he was still grunting and griping to himself as he tried to tug his feet free.

“Give me your hand,” she whispered so as not to alert Exterminator to her whereabouts.

Chat snapped his attention up to her—well, a bit to the left of her— and blinked. “What?”

“Quiet,” she shushed him, casting a glance over her shoulder. Exterminator thankfully hadn’t heard Chat over the sounds of his search. “Give me your hand.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’re a sitting duck right now.”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“That’s not the point right now. Now take my hand so we can keep him busy-”

“Ladybug and I were fine before you showed up, I don’t need your help,” Chat spat. “Cataclysm!” The flypaper turned to dust under his touch as he smiled smugly in her general direction. “See?”

“Found you.”

She glanced up just in time to see Exterminator glaring at Chat- or rather, what would look like the empty air Chat was apparently talking to. She could see the akuma’s finger already squeezing around the trigger of his net-gun. Wordlessly, she shoved Chat to the side and then threw herself to the ground.

The net whizzed harmlessly over her head.

But it had been close.

Too close.

And now they were both on a timer…

“Get out of here,” she hissed to Chat, “we need to regroup.”

“You’re not the one in charge here,” Chat snapped as he sprang to his feet to dodge another net.

“Sorry, that took longer than I thought.” Ladybug’s voice crackled to life over their com pieces. “I’ll be there in a minute-”

“We’re both on timers now,” she replied as she threw her bolas. Exterminator ducked out of the way as they whizzed past, visible the moment they left her hand. But that was fine, all she needed was to buy time for-

“Get out of there and recharge. Meet me on the roof of the Musée Yves Saint Laurent. I think I have a plan.”

***

“At the very least, it will give me a chance to get up close and figure out where the akuma is hiding before- ”

“I break it with my Cataclysm, and we save the day, bugaboo.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And no, it’s not going to be that simple. This akuma is tricky.”

That was an understatement. It was honestly surprising Shadowmoth hadn’t ever tried to akumatize an exterminator before. An akuma based around dealing with pests like bugs? That had Shadowmoth written all over it.

“We need to get him out in the open, were he can’t lay any more traps for us.” Exterminator had proven himself to be a much better strategist that most akumas, and his proficiency with setting magically enhanced traps was a testament to the danger he posed. “We can’t let him catch us off guard again, we’ve had too many close calls,” Ladybug continued before turning to her. “Tigress, you’re going to be taking point on this. You have the best chance of leading him out into the open without getting caught. If we can get him to the Trocadero…”

As Ladybug continued with the plan, the back of her neck prickled with the feeling of eyes on her. She glanced up from the holographic map Ladybug had pulled up on her yoyo to find bitter and venomous green eyes trained on her.

***

Her lungs were still burning as she tried to catch her breath while Roarr scarfed down the last of her emergency candy. They has a couple minutes at most before they had to get back out there and rejoin the fight.

She had managed to lead Exterminator to the Trocadéro, but she had had to burn through her invisibility. Ladybug and Chat were keeping the akuma busy and trying to identify the akumatized object while she recharged, but she didn’t want to be away from the fighting any longer than she had to.. Especially given it wasn’t just the fight with the akuma… the way Chat had kept interrupting and calling her nicknames she had told him not to while she tried to strategize… the tension had been so thick, she could have sliced it with her claws.

The less time she left the two alone, the better.

“Just about ready?”

“Almost,” Roarr said through a mouthful of gummies that were sticky and partially melted from the heat. Hopefully kwamis didn’t get cavities…

As Roarr finished the last few bites of her snack, she rolled her shoulders to try and loosen up the joints and release some of the tension that had made its way into her muscles during the strategy meeting. Somehow, being chased through the streets by the akuma as she acted as live bait had been less uncomfortable that bearing witness to the brink of another spat between the two-

“Ready!”

“Roarr, stripes on.”

The magic of her transformation had barely washed over her before she was leaping up into the air, digging her claws into the brick of the back of the buildings lining the alley she had hidden in. Chips of masonry scattered and fell as she effortlessly clawed her way up to the roof.

In a matter of minutes, she was back at the Trocadéro.

Ladybug was a blur of red around the akuma as she swung and dove and rolled, never getting particularly close to the akuma. But she was certainly keeping him busy. A blur of black whizzed by the akuma, spouting more puns and flirtatious remarks in the same breath. Ladybug didn’t respond, but it was impossible to tell if that was because she was trying to concentrate or was just trying to ignore him. Or both.

Either way, it didn’t matter. It was time for her to join the fray.

She landed lightly, and then sped toward the akuma. She slide to a stop a few steps from Ladybug, swinging her bolas to deflect a net that had been heading towards her. Ladybug shot her a quick, grateful smile before springing back and out of the way and swinging up toward the top of the Palais de Challiot. A moment later, a shimmer of red and pink light burst out from the roof of the building.

“I need you two to try and buy me some time while I figure out this Lucky Charm,” Ladybug’s voice crackled to life over the com links, “Chat, you’re going to keep him busy. Tigress, he can’t catch what he can’t see. You’re going to get the akuma, it’s in his dust-sprayer.”

Of course it was.

He had used it to try and douse them all in a foul smelling powder that had made her feel woozy when they first confronted him. Thankfully, Ladybug had been able to jam it with one of her previous Lucky Charms. But it was still intact.

As she ducked under a net swung in her direction, she caught Chat glaring at her, bitter venom in his eyes.

It was the same venomous look he had given her when Ladybug had given her the job of luring Exterminator to the Trocadéro.

She shook her head. There wasn’t time to think about that now. Now when there was an akuma standing right in front of her, aiming that stupid net gun at her again.

She took off running towards the akuma, and at the last second, dropped to slide as he launched a net directly at her. The net flew harmlessly overhead as she slid past him, murmuring to activate her powers as she went past him. The second she was hidden right in front of him, she dug her claws into the stone to stop herself from sliding further and launched herself to her feet.

Exterminator howled in pain, and she turned just in time to see him clutching his nose as Chat’s staff retracted.

At least he was keeping the akuma busy. She wished he hadn’t gone straight to making the akuma angrier… but at least he was distracted.

Now all she had to do was get in close and swipe the dust-sprayer.

Moving as light as a feather, and as quietly as a tiger stalking through the forest, she crept towards the akuma. The akuma howled in frustration and then pulled his snare trap from his back before swinging it wildly. She hissed as she dropped to the ground, just managing to avoid getting beaned in the head by the erratically swinging weapon.

“Don’t you know that cat always wins the game of cat and mouse?”” Chat called as he scraped his claws along the stone, loosening dust from the ground. With a smirk, he flung it at the akuma.

And her.

She froze, a glare directed at Chat fixed on her face even though he couldn’t see it. What was he doing? Was he trying to derail the plan? But maybe the dust hadn’t settled on her. And even if it had, maybe the akuma wouldn’t see it-“

“There you are.”

The akuma’s voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Without looking back to see how close the akuma was, she leapt straight up in the air with all her might. Something rushed through the space she had been occupying mere seconds ago before.

She managed to twist in midair and kick off of the akuma, who had rushed forward and unwittingly placed himself right under her. With a little less grace than usual, she landed a few feet behind the akuma. Immediately, she sprang back up and darted away from where she had landed. The akuma was looking around wildly, even with his snare trap locked with Chat’s staff. As she darted to the side to look for an opening, she caught sight of Ladybug perched on top of the roof, a small red object in her hands and a look of horror on her face.

Ladybug’s voice crackled to life in the coms. “Chat! What are you doing?”

She glanced at Chat in time to see him grit his teeth and shove against his staff, breaking the lock he had been in with Exterminator and forcing the akuma back.

Exterminator stumbled back, his free arm out to the side as he planted his snare trap to try and stop himself from overbalancing.

She had a clear path to his belt, and the dust-sprayer on it.

This was it.

On near silent feet, she sprinted forward.

She reached out for the akuma.

She was so close.

“See, M’lady, it’s you and me against the world!”

What?

“Cataclysm!”

Her eyes widened in horror as Chat’s hand erupted in a dark miasma as he lunged towards the dust-sprayer.

Towards her.

She dug her feet into the ground to try and stop herself. But she had been going so fast, it wasn’t enough to stop the momentum.

Seeing Chat hurtle towards him, Exterminator dove to the side. Out of her reach.

Out of Chat’s path.

Leaving him hurtling directly toward-

She managed to throw herself into a clumsy roll at the very last second. It wasn’t enough to avoid the collision entirely though.

Time felt like it was moving through syrup.

Heavy boots knocked against her shoulders. Claws grazed across her back.

Her heart stopped.

And then beat again as she inched through the air, no searing pain running along her back.

At least it hadn’t been his Cataclysm hand as far as she could tell.

But as she and Chat tumbled over and against each other, she felt her bolas swing up with her momentum. And then suddenly they were changing direction. Like they had hit something.

Or been pushed by-

And just as suddenly, their weight was gone.

And time doubled to catch up with itself.

The impact of Chat hitting her threw her off kilter enough so that she landed heavily on her shoulder with a thud and a very uncontrolled roll before she skidded to a stop against the pavement. The impact was enough to knock the air from her lungs.

But it could have been worse.

Gingerly, she picked herself back up and turned. Just in time to see Chat dragging himself up from the ground.

And Exterminator rushing right towards him, holding what looked like an oversized can of pesticide foam at the ready.

Despite her protesting muscles, she rushed forward and shoved Chat—maybe a little harder than was necessary—out of the way of the foul smelling stream of toxic green foam.

Exterminator barrelled past them. He started to skid to a stop, but then a familiar zip of a yoyo cut the air and the akuma was suddenly windmilling his arms. And then he fell flat on his face, just short of the pile of foam.

Ladybug was a red blur as she dove off of the roof; she was beside the Exterminator in an instant, ripping the dust-sprayer from his belt brusquely. Even with her back to her, she could see the tension in every inch of Ladybug’s body. And- her hands were shaking as she clutched the dust-sprayer in one and the unused Lucky Charm in the other.

Wordlessly, in one swift and sharp movement, Ladybug slammed the dust-sprayer down as she drover her knee up, snapping it with a loud and decisive crack that split the suddenly too-quiet air.

The next thing she knew, Ladybug’s yoyo was capturing the akuma.

But she was silent as she purified it.

She dropped her invisibility as the white butterfly fluttered away.

She watched as Ladybug pulled the akuma victim to his feet and offered him some quiet words. He nodded, and then, with an apologetic look cast in her and Chat’s direct, he hastily walked off. When she turned back to look at Ladybug, she had her Lucky Charm in her hands again. And she was staring at it.

It was hard to tell from where she was standing, but it looked like an egg-timer.

Ladybug stared at it silently. Until finally, she sighed. The moment Ladybug sighed, the timer began to ring, its sound shrill against the quiet.

She watched as Ladybug took a breath, and then hurled it into the air as she cast her purification spell.

The second the ladybugs disappeared, Ladybug turned sharply to face her and Chat. Her blue eyes were burning like ice as she approached. The burning ice flickered out of Ladybug’s eyes as they darted to her. “You ok?” she asked quietly.

She nodded.

With a short nod of her own, the icy flames returned to Ladybug’s eyes as she drew level with her and Chat.

“What,” Ladybug asked, her voice so quiet it would have been impossible to hear if not for the fact that the streets were still eerily empty in the aftermath of the akuma battle, “was that?”

Ladybug wasn’t looking at her. Not even remotely. Her eyes were fixed directly on Chat. But she still took a half a step back form the weight of her voice.

Chat audibly swallowed.

“Well, I… I was only-”

“What were you thinking? Throwing that dust?”

“I was trying to blind him!”

“And risk Tigress getting caught?”

“How was I supposed to know she would be there? She was invisible!”

Awkwardly, she shifted her weight between her feet. Should she jump in? Should she say something?

She had seen plenty of their spats firsthand, from the ones that were little more than bickering, to the ones that were full on arguments, which had become more and more frequent ever since she first received the tiger miraculous. But none of them had been…

“It was the entire plan! I told you she would be in close range. You knew she would be trying to get the akuma! You knew she could have been caught in the crossfire!”

“I’m not her babysitter,” Chat spat. “Besides, she’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. You certainly seem to think so.”

It was one thing to tell Chat how she really felt. But getting involved in a fight between the two of them…

It was like watching a tennis match, the way they volleyed back and forth. Her gaze followed the trajectory of the fight with every spoken strike.

“That isn’t the point. We’re a team.”

“We’re partners!”

“And the way you just ignored the plan and jumped in the first chance you got? That’s what partners do?”

“I was taking initiative. I was doing my job.”

“You were supposed to distract him!”

“What? So she could do my job?” He flung his arm to gesture at her, almost hitting her given the proximity.

Maybe she wouldn’t have a choice on getting involved… as appealing as standing and watching them argue was-

Before she could even so much as open her mouth, Chat continued. “I’m your partner. It’s been us from the start! And then suddenly you’re bringing in other people-”

“We need the help!”

“And you changed when you became the Guardian-”

“I never asked to be-”

“You gave out another miraculous without asking me and you’re letting her keep one!” He gestured at her again.

“We- I needed help!”

“No you didn’t! You have me!”

“No, I didn’t!”

Chat stumbled back at Ladybugs words. Both of their chests were heaving, and their faces were the same scarlet as Ladybug’s suit. Tears glimmered at the corners of Ladybug’s eyes. She stepped forward, but before she could place herself between the two, before she could reach out to comfort Ladybug, Ladybug broke the silence.

“I didn’t have you.”

Ladybug’s quiet, broken voice took her back to her room on the Liberty. Back to her friend, sitting beside her on her bed, spilling tears over too many responsibilities for one person to handle.

“Oh, Bugaboo,” Chat crooned, his furious face instantly softening, “of course you did. I’ll always be by your side, M’lady.”

Ladybug’s eyes darted back up from the ground to Chat.

“Frozer.”

Chat’s brows furrowed. “What-”

“Glaciator.”

With each name, Ladybug took a step forward.

“Oblivio. Dark Cupid-”

“M’lady, what are you talking about?”

“All the akumas where you’ve been more interested in goofing off or flirting. That, or having a snit because you were mad I don’t feel the same way.”

“I don’t-”

“I needed help.”

“We beat all of those akumas!”

“Barely! And always by the seat of our pants, because you never listen to me.”

“I listen!”

Ladybug let out an incredulous half-laugh before she drew herself up to her full height. She was still more that half a head shorter than Chat, but somehow, she didn’t seem to be.

“Like you listened tonight?” Ladybug’s voice was quiet steel.

“I- I- I…” she could see Chat floundering for something to say. Some way out of the grave he had dug for himself. “I did follow the plan!” She had to hold back a snort. Ladybug’s face morphed to pure incredulity. “I let her get the akuma to the Trocadéro! I was distracting it!”

“And then you jumped in anyways when Tigress had an opening!”

“I was being a hero!”

“You could have hurt her.” Technically, he had. The suit protected her, but the fall had still hurt. “You could have Cataclysmed her!”

“If she hadn’t been there to begin with this wouldn’t have happened!” Wildly, he turned to glare at her. “This was your fault! You told me to step up! If you hadn’t-”

“Chat! Stop. It.”

“But Bugaboo, she told me to- if she hadn’t interfered-”

“Don’t ever talk to her that way.” Ladybug’s voice was quiet and even. And deadly. “Don’t ever talk about her like that.”

“Bugaboo-”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“But-”

“You knew the plan.” Ladybug took a step toward Chat, the sheer weight of her voice was enough to silence him. “You chose to do your own thing.” Chat shrank back as Ladybug took another step. His face was stark white against the black of his mask, and it looked like the carpet had just been ripped out from under him. “You chose not to be part of the team.” She hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Ladybug looked like she wanted to say more, but she was interrupted by another beep from her earrings.

“I’ll find you later Tigress,” she said, turning away from Chat curtly. Her voice was still still sharp, but it obviously wasn’t directed at her. And then with a flick of her wrist and the familiar zip of her yoyo, she was gone in a red and black blur.

Heavy silence hung in the air. Everything was still; there was no breeze, no rush of traffics or people going about their evening. There wasn’t even the sound of any pigeons.

It was like the world was holding its breath.

Chat cast her an icy glare. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and darted into the shadows of the Palais de Challiot.

#endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #juleka vs the forces of the universe #juleka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #ladybug #purple tigress #chat noir #chat noir salt #adrien salt #high sodium #miracuclass #alya cesaire #alya salt

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imagine-you · 2 years ago

Text

every lover's got a little dagger in their hand (3/?) [joel miller/reader]

Summary: You find Joel at Cumberland Farms in the midst of his quest to save the human race. "You had so many questions you wanted to ask Joel. Where did he get a kid from? Where was Tess? Was he on a job? If so, then why the kid? Did he feel anything when he looked at you?"

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who supported part one. This wouldn't have continued without y'all. Title from Love From the Other Side by Fall Out Boy. Sorry for the absence! Life has been crazy. I got sick, had family issues, and all kinds of other stuff. Thank y'all for your patience. 💖

part one // part two

Joel had a list of things you all needed to do before he would let you leave Lincoln.

He insisted the three of you shower, taking advantage of the hot water and actual water pressure that Bill and Frank had been blessed with throughout the apocalypse. You let Ellie go first, taking a moment to search for supplies you would need for the trip to Wyoming. You were stuffing a bag you found with nonperishables when you realized the house sounded a little too quiet.

You knew Joel was a man of very little words, but Ellie seemed like a chatterbox. You figured she was the kind to sing in the shower or even talk to herself, so hearing nothing at all piqued your curiosity.

You went in search of Joel and found him and Ellie in the downstairs bunker.

"--a whole wall of them!" Ellie was saying, gesturing towards the guns mounted on the wall beside her.

"No." Joel said, turning his back on her, as if that was the end of the matter.

"What's going on?" You asked as you approached them, taking in Joel’s stormy expression and Ellie’s annoyed one.

"I think I should be able to take a gun to defend myself, but Joel says no. What do you say?" Ellie asked, hope in her voice as she turned to face you.

"She doesn't get a say," Joel immediately refuted. "I'm the one responsible for you."

"So, what?" You asked, looking over at Joel. "Are you saying I'm not responsible for Ellie? I should just let her get eaten by runners or taken by raiders? I've got no stake in her wellbeing at all?"

"Look, I'm not askin' you to let the kid get murdered, but I'm the one in charge on this job, and I say no gun."

You shared an irritated look with Ellie before schooling your expression into one of agreement. "Fine," you conceded with a nod at Joel. "Now, go take a shower. You're starting to smell like a shambler. I'm guessing it's been a while."

Joel and Ellie shot you twin confused looks and you shrugged your shoulders before gesturing for Joel to leave the room. He narrowed his eyes at you, as if assessing whether he could trust you alone with Ellie or not, before he finally went up the stairs.

"What's a shambler?" Ellie wondered, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Hopefully you'll never have to find out," you told her, half-distracted as you listened for the sound of Joel retreating towards the upstairs bathroom. When you were sure the coast was clear, you reached out to pull a pistol off the wall, considering it for a moment. You weighed it in your hand, comparing it to the other handguns on the wall. Finally, you deemed it good enough, before handing it over to Ellie. "Here," you said, ignoring her stunned expression.

"But Joel--"

"Wants to protect you," you cut her off. "But I do too and there's gonna come a time when Joel won't be there or I won't be there to save your ass. A runner's not going to care how old you are when it tries to take a bite out of you," you said, justifying your decision. "Now, we've got maybe five minutes tops before he's out of the shower, which means I've only got five minutes to make sure you're not going to hurt yourself with that."

By the time Joel was showered and wearing some of Frank's clothes, you made sure Ellie had the gun tucked safely away in her backpack. You took your shower next, taking care not to rush since you weren't sure when you would next be afforded the opportunity to really get clean without worrying about dying for having your guard down.

Before you went downstairs, you stole a clean t-shirt and flannel out of an upstairs closet. You weren't sure if it belonged to Bill or Frank, but you didn't care as long as you were carrying a piece of them with you. You didn't want to forget them and everything they had done for you. You wouldn't.

But leaving Lincoln behind, watching it slip away from the passenger side window, felt like a goodbye you weren't ready to give. You thought you had more time to come back and see Frank and Bill again. You should have remembered you were all living on borrowed time. Eventually, your luck would run out, the people around you would vanish, and you would die all alone.

You took a trembling breath, ignoring Joel's curious look, before focusing your attention on the passing scenery.

Time passed in fits and starts, leaving you bored and restless. You listened to Ellie mess with Joel, first with puns and then by commenting on the dirty magazine Bill left behind in the truck. You let Ellie's delighted laughter wash over you and caught the small, hidden smile on Joel's face.

It didn't take a genius to realize that Ellie was good for Joel. She gave him a purpose he seemed to desperately need and while you didn't know much about Joel pre-apocalypse, you knew Ellie brought out a side of him you had never really seen before. Maybe she reminded him of someone he used to know. Maybe she gave him something to finally care about. Either way, you knew you would fight to keep her around, if not for Ellie's survival, then for Joel's sake and sanity.

As the sun began to set, Joel decided to find a place to settle down for the night.

"We should start a fire," Ellie suggested once she was sitting on the ground.

"Can't," Joel argued, taking out a couple of cans of food from a bag. "It'll draw infected and worse, it'll draw people. Sometimes, that's worse than any infected you'll run across out here. People can do a lot worse than just kill you."

"Oh," Ellie breathed, nodding her head. "It's going to be a cold night, then, huh?"

"Yup," you agreed, taking the can of food that Joel handed to you. "But you can't really beat a night out under the stars."

Ellie squinted at you before shrugging her shoulders. "A cold night under the stars with cold food."

"Can't have everything," Joel quipped, before gesturing towards the open can of food he put in front of Ellie. "Now shut up and eat your dinner."

Ellie shared a commiserating look with you before digging into her can of cold ravioli.

It wasn't until later, after you were all settled in your respective sleeping bags, that you started to wonder whether the plan to sleep out in the woods to avoid hunters had a flaw or two. You thought about voicing your concerns to Joel once Ellie was asleep, but she beat you to the punch.

"Will anyone find us out here?" She asked, her tone cautious and worried.

"Doubtful," Joel answered, but only from years of knowing him did you hear the hint of concern in his voice. You glanced over at Joel, meeting his eyes, a moment of understanding shared between you.

You trained your eyes back on the glimpses of stars you could see through the tree branches above you. You listened to Ellie try to lighten the mood with puns before she finally slipped off to sleep. You sat up, being careful not to make too much noise, before you reached for the gun at your side.

"What're you doing?" Joel asked, already halfway out of his sleeping bag.

You rolled your eyes before gesturing for him to lie down. "Get some rest," you ordered, leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing. "I've got first watch."

"But--" he tried to argue.

"Joel, shut up and go to sleep. You've been driving all day. I'll get you up in a few hours."

Joel watched you for a few moments and you knew there was a part of him that didn't trust you. Whether he thought it was as simple as not waking him up or as serious as stealing everything and making a run for it in Bill's truck, you weren't sure, but you didn't care. Joel would run himself ragged and you weren't going to let that happen.

"C'mon," you coaxed, quirking an eyebrow at him. "I so much as hear a twig snap and I'll wake you up," you promised, trying to sound as sincere as you could. Unless a whole horde of clickers suddenly stumbled across your camp, you were going to let Joel sleep through the night for once.

"Wake me up in three hours," he demanded before turning over, putting his back to you.

“Will do,” you lied, trying to keep a smile off your face.

You leaned against the tree behind you, settling in for the long night ahead.

The woods were full of noises that would have made most people jumpy. You were used to being on your own, and you knew which noises meant danger and which were entirely harmless. Thankfully, there was nothing to worry about through the night, and while Joel and Ellie slept, you tried to keep yourself preoccupied with thoughts of the journey ahead. Getting to Wyoming could be dangerous and while you were no stranger to everything that could go wrong along the way, you also couldn't help but hope you'd have no problems.

You knew it was a pipe dream, but you didn't care. There was something about Joel that made you believe everything would be okay. Even if you ran into clickers and bloaters and everything else, he'd find a way to get you through it.

You got the feeling Joel didn't have a lot of faith in himself, but you had all the faith in the world in him. And from the way Ellie looked at him, you had a feeling you weren't alone.

As dawn approached, your night of waiting was nearly over. You knew Joel would be pissed that you didn't wake him up to take a shift on watch, but you didn't care. You knew, without a doubt, he planned on trying to make it to Tommy without stopping for sleep again, so he would need as much of it as he could get.

"Hey," you tried, kneeling over Joel. You didn't want to startle him, but you also knew it would take a bit more to wake him up since he couldn't hear so well out of his right ear and he was sleeping on his left. "Joel," you whispered, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

You felt him jolt awake, his hand automatically going for his gun.

"Easy," you soothed, holding your hands up to show him you weren't a threat. "'stime to get up is all."

Joel squinted at you for a moment before he glanced around. "What time is it?"

You shrugged your shoulders, leaning back to give him some space as he sat up. "No idea, but it's morning," you pointed out, ignoring his disgruntled groan.

"I told you three hours," he reminded you, moving to stand, hastily rolling up his sleeping bag.

"And I didn't agree to that," you shot back, also moving to stand. “I think the words I used were ‘a few hours,’ and here we are,” you said, gesturing around the clearing. “A few hours later.”

"Forgot that about you," Joel grumbled, shooting you an irritated look before he started towards the truck.

"Forgot what?" You wondered, watching him pull out a few things from the bed of the truck.

"How sneaky you are," he answered, moving towards you. He set his items down on the ground before you realized he was working on getting a pot of coffee started.

"It's kept me alive all this time," you mused, content to watch Joel work. "Besides, I can sleep in the truck. You've got to get us to Wyoming."

Joel snorted and shook his head, not bothering to even look at you. You listened to the coffee begin to bubble and hiss, steam rising from the top of the coffee maker.

"Ugh," Ellie groaned, squinting her eyes open. "What smells like shit?"

"Coffee," Joel responded, sounding smug and satisfied as he poured the drink into a travel mug.

"Ugh," Ellie repeated, rolling her eyes, before she glanced at you. "You drink that too?"

"Sometimes," you told her, chuckling at her disgusted noise.

"There's something wrong with both of you," she muttered.

"Just get up," Joel ordered, barely hiding a smirk as he took an obnoxiously loud sip of his coffee. "It's time to get on the road."

"Yeah, yeah," Ellie grunted before pushing herself to stand. "Early bird gets the worm and all that."

"Exactly," Joel agreed, the concealed mirth in his voice bringing a small smile to your face.

"C'mon, old man," you said, nudging Joel with your elbow. "I need a nap."

"Old man," Joel grumbled, shooting you an irritated look. "Didn't seem to think I was so old when--," he abruptly cut himself off, glancing over at Ellie.

"What?" She asked, glancing between you and Joel. "Is this something about how you two used to fuck?"

"No," Joel denied, turning his back on Ellie. "Just finish getting your stuff. We should've already been on the road."

By the time Joel was behind the wheel and you were stretched out across the back seat of the truck, you could feel sleep rushing up to claim you. You drifted off to the sound of Joel telling Ellie all about Tommy and woke to them talking about you.

"--with her, then what was the whole thing with Tess? I mean, you obviously had something."

"Tess was..." Joel trailed off, searching for the right words. "She was my best friend," he finally admitted, sounding pained as if he didn't want to say something so personal. "She got me through some tough things. Y/N," he cut himself off, heaving a weary sigh. "She's something else, alright? And that's all we're gonna talk about it."

"Do you love her?" Ellie asked, her voice soft and curious.

"Didn't I say that's all we're gonna talk about it? Besides--shit," Joel hissed, prompting you to sit up, on full alert.

"What is it? What's going on?" You blurted, already envisioning the worst.

"Road's blocked," Joel pointed out, nodding at the vehicles in the way. "We'll have to find a way around."

You had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you this was only a tiny obstacle on the way to a big fucking problem. You frowned, your heart starting to beat faster in anticipation, as Joel took different streets, attempting to find a way out of the city.

It wasn't until a guy limped out into the street, waving his hands frantically, and pleading for help that you realized why you had such a horrible feeling about this.

It was a trap.

"Put your seatbelt on," Joel ordered Ellie, sparing a quick glance for you over his shoulder, before he tugged the steering wheel to the side, attempting to drive past the guy pretending to be hurt. You saw the moment the guy realized the jig was up before he pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it at the truck.

"Keep your head down," you told Ellie, reaching forward to urge her to duck down in her seat.

Everything after that moment passed in a disorienting blur of chaos and pain.

The back window exploded in a rain of glass, you felt a bolt of agony shoot through your shoulder, and then Joel lost control of the truck. The last thing you saw before everything went black was Ellie's terrified face as the truck crashed through the front of an abandoned laundromat.

taglist: @stilldreaming666 @littleshadow17 @rickysgrimes @owenniasstars @mysticalfuncollectorus @darkwhisperswolf @noisytragedydestiny @sofsofsposts

if you would like to be added, please fill out my tag list form or let me know here!

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us imagine #elgaldith fic #my fic

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years ago

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Just an update😁💖

Hey y'all!

I'm hoping to be back on my dash and on my blog with actual updates and series continuations soonish (I tell myself this on the daily and then it doesn't happen because:) I'm still adjusting to a new work/life/author balance, but I'm hoping now that I'm down to one book left to publish and not juggling two things will be calmer for me going forward and I'll have the time (+ energy) to catch up on everything and continue Mirth's Ebenezer and The Lair in the Woods!

Thank you for your patience, support, and all the tags in the meantime💜

#i promise i'm okay! this year has just been busy af🤯#blog update #blog housekeeping #miss this hellsite so much😭

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sadies-silly-hellroom75 · 5 months ago

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Hey y'all

I wanted to apologize for not posting anything lately. For the past few days have been pretty stressful for me. I've been working with schoolwork, collaborating on a project with a friend (which was pretty fun), and trying to do content ideas. On top of that, I've also been working on some animations that didn't really go well- which has taken up a lot of my time. Thank you all for your patience and understanding. I promise I'll be back with some new posts soon.

(Also I wanna thank all of you for the love and support. Like, I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCCHHH!!! 💖💖💖)

#rant post #apology #stressing #I love all of you so much

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forlix · 1 year ago

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OMG do not worry, you can call me whatever it’s totally fine. honestly idek why I’m still on anon. I guess it just makes me more sexy and mysterious (this is sarcasm, I just have anxiety lol but seriously use my name if you’d like, if someone cares enough to find my blog somehow I think they can just have that win).

and YOU are so cute, what the heck?? I love pretending to be in your beautiful mind. it’s okay, because I’m in a lil cottagecore cabin in the redwood forest making you a pie to enjoy when you return from your burying things. I can’t bake irl, but imagine if I could and be very impressed please.

also, I’m in such a good mood because one of my best friends asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding!! and it was very cute, she invited us all over and did a bridesmaid proposal and it was so thoughtful. and my heart is so full for her because her fiancé is the sweetest silliest guy and he’s making her so happy. I’m in love with their love I CAN’T!

but yes, pleeeeease take care. I’m sending you my love and good vibes 💖 and I’m currently fainting from the kisses but it’s okay, what kisses don’t kill you make you stronger. or something. byyye 😘

-🪷

"if someone cares enough to find my blog somehow i think they can just have that win" i laughed in a silent library. but i completely support your sexy and mysterious agenda baby, your name is so safe with me

not the cottagecore cabin in the redwood forest and the PIE TO COME HOME TO? literary analyst, musical genius, 100% spouse material, what aren't you? i AM imagining this clear as day and i AM thoroughly impressed, holy fuck, that's my anon y'all

AND CONGRATS TO YOUR BEST FRIEND WAAAHHH, i'm so happy that you're so happy about being a bridesmaid and about their love hehe. reading this made me feel warm inside. sending them my best wishes !!! (in the least creepy way possible 😭)

so much love for you as always, thank u for ur patience with me as always, i'm running out of words to describe the utter adoration i feel for you but i hope u can Sense it thru ur screen. your computer getting warm or hyperventilating? yeah, that's my doing, tech support not included >:)

#*inbox #🪷 anon

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - PART 12! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Spanking. (If spanking is not your thing, I have marked those parts with ~ at the start and end of them so you can read past them.) Dom!Elvis and dom/sub dynamics. Sex. ANGST. Jealousy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 10,660

A/N: We're back, y'all and this part is a MONSTER so you're gonna have to carve out some time (it's what you deserve)! It took on a life of its own, honestly. I really wanted to explore the darker sides of both our Reader and Elvis and their choices. It is important to me in this piece to show that Elvis was a very complex human with very real faults, which can throw some people for a loop if they idealize him or don't know much about him, so be warned.

With that said, the convo between him and Anita in 1961 is real. I transcribed his parts as best I could with the quality of the recording. Hopefully, I did his mood justice in the writing (in terms of how Reader is interpreting it), but if you do choose to listen, I recommend headphones and patience. It's a long one and not a great recording. And once again, depending on your point of view, it shows a not-so-flattering side of EP, so proceed with caution.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your love, patience, and distractions as I've been ill! This community has been so wonderful and it's been amazing getting to know you all better and to be able to share our love of EP in all the ways! 💖

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. I will say I'm a bit self-conscious about this part for a variety of reasons, mainly covid-brain, so be gentle! I'm sorry in advance if it's not up to par.

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone.

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

Los Angeles, 1961

Walking down the hallway, you cannot help but be drawn to the perturbed sound of Elvis’ unique cadence from beyond the door of the den. It is cracked open just enough for the sound to come through, which must have been a mistake by whoever left last, probably one of the guys. You had seen Red come from this direction not that long ago.

You’d come out to LA at Elvis’ behest to join them all for a visit while he was filming his latest movie. You were happy to see Jack after so much time apart, and you’d instantly gotten swept back up into the Elvis lifestyle while being here, though it was moderately toned down considering his filming schedule. It was a nice change from what was becoming a bit of a lonely existence at Graceland. It wasn’t that you were alone, per say, it was just that the other wives were having and taking care of their little ones, which was a constant reminder of a life you couldn’t have. You loved spending time them and with the children—they just weren’t your own.

You certainly don’t mean to snoop, you’d only been making your way through the California villa to the bedroom to grab something out of your bag, but your curiosity wins out. You stop just shy of the door, head bowed, ear to the crack, wondering who has Elvis in such a state. Of course, you can only hear one side of the conversation, but you try to piece together as best you can what might be going on. You know you shouldn’t, but you do anyway.

Elvis responds to the person he’s talking to in an exasperated tone, “You know why—you know why I don’t call you anymore? This very reason, right here. This very reason right here…I-I-I-can’t talk to you, hon. You mess with my damn head, man. I-I-can’t count on a decent conversation with ya. Ya start throwin’ up all kinds of shit to me. Look, if I called you e-e-every damn night, you’d start bitchin about something different. You’re just a fuckin’ nag, that’s all, you’re just a nagger that’s all.”

Your eyes widen at that, at how mean he’s getting with whichever one of his women he’s talking to. You have seen his temper firsthand over the years, but not directed at you and you’ve never heard him talk to a woman this way. After knowing him all this time, this side of him shocks you a bit, and you stay rooted to the spot.

“Well, that’s the way I feel about it, a-a-and y-y-y-you don’t have to be that way either. Not to the extent that you are, you don’t have to be that bad,” he says vehemently. “I just know you’re gonna start throwin’ something up to me a-and I ain’t got time to hear it. You turn me the fuck up, you know that?”

And he certainly is turned up, you think. His annoyance and frustration are coming through loud and clear on this end, punctuated by his stutter. The woman must be talking because he pauses before continuing.

“Yes, all the time. I-I-I can’t stand it, I-I can’t stand it, Anita, I swear I can’t stand it. I call you and do right, my ass,” he says, annoyed. “I do, do right! My ass. If I called you e-every night, you’d start that shit.” Elvis starts mocking her in a whining, high pitched voice, “‘Who’d you see today? You g-got a girlfriend, I’m surprised at you, blah blah,’ that bullSHIT!” He spits it out at her, angrily. “Naw, it ain’t no lie. Naw, you bring it up every time I talk to you.”

Your heart races a bit just hearing the confrontation and at the thrill that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping in the first place. Of course, it’s Anita, you think. He’s been seeing her the longest of any of his girlfriends, even through Germany. You are friendly with her, but not very close. Although she is always nice to you, she has an air about her that rubs you the wrong way. Not that you’d ever show it, but she just seems a bit self-important to you, what with her beauty queen titles and flitting up to New York or out to Hollywood for her singing or acting. She is a little too pretty, a little too nice, and sometimes it just feels underhanded.

Or maybe you’re just jealous, a niggling voice in the back of your mind says.

You scoff at that. Jealous of what? Sure, it seemed like she had a glamorous life, what with all the things she did, and how beautiful she is, and being the girlfriend of THE Elvis Presley, but you know better than that. And right now it sure doesn’t seem like you have much to be jealous of, considering the way he’s talking to her. She’s been around four years, and there is still no true commitment from him. At least you have a husband who loves you and you are a permanent fixture in Elvis’ inner circle, giving you a leg up in this situation, you think a little haughtily.

Good god, what is wrong with me? Why am I being so petty?

You don’t have an answer to that.

Obviously, Anita is not happy, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Anita’s not dumb, even though she can play that part if needs be. She knows he’s seeing other women, and just because you’re not her biggest fan doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated poorly, by him or anyone else.

The thing is, you realize suddenly, even though he is likely in the wrong, you are still going to take his side in the end because he’s your friend. And that thought surprises you a little bit. But at the same time, there is anger starting to simmer in your chest at his poor behavior, at the way he keeps some of the women in his life hanging, waiting with bated breath to see if they will be the one to win his undying and singular attention.

You, of course, know better. Elvis is needy and fickle and loves being adored by as many women as possible. If there is one thing he’s addicted to, it’s girls. But he would no sooner give up his freedom to love as many of them as possible than he would to give up his career. Not to say that he doesn’t genuinely care for some of them; in fact, he is overly loving and demonstrative in some ways. It’s just that the standards for his love seem different than anyone else’s, and he gets away with things he might not otherwise because of who he is. But in your experience, the girls all figure it out eventually, and it seems like Anita is finally getting there.

It sounds like she is giving Elvis the business about it, which he doesn’t like one little bit.

“Why can’t you be sweet instead of bitchin’ like an old naggin’ ass wife, huh?” you hear him say, a little viciously, your eyes going wide. “I can’t stand that, I can’t stand it. Baby, you’ve got me crazy, you know that? You get worse a-all the damn time, a-and th-th-that’s why I don’t talk to you on the phone.”

You really, really should leave and get your nose out of his business, but it’s like you’re incapable of getting your feet to move. You’re mad at him for speaking this way to her, even though she likely IS nagging, you know it’s for good reason. She is right. He wants to have his cake and eat it, too, and he does not like being called out on it.

You hear him backtracking now, almost wearily telling her how much he loves her, over and over. The man doth protest too much. And the way his stutter pops up now, it sounds more like a child covering a fib than agitation. But you hate to assume.

“I told ya that I’m in love with ya. I-I-I-I-I-if I—if I—if I didn’t love you, I tell ya, I wouldn’t waste my time with you. I don’t have to,” he rebounds bluntly, harshly, then recovers quickly, “Well, I-I look forward to being with you, and I-I think about you a lot. But because I don’t call you three or four times a damn week, you say to me ‘Why don’t you…?’” His nastiness gets the better of him again, as he starts to mock her, but then he stops, his frustration evident. “Aw, HELL. I tell ya how I felt aboutcha, you oughta know how I feel. I mean, three long years, w-we’ve been battling this back and forth this same thing. You know I love you, darlin’.”

It all sounds rather unconvincing to you, as he seems to bounce so quickly from one emotion to the other. Maybe he believes it, you think, but you don’t think she’s buying it, not by the way he continues to reassure her, nearly pleading in some moments, and calling her pet names before that indignant tone returns to his voice. Even from out here, you can feel just how hard he’s trying to be patient, trying to placate her, with the many declarations of his love.

Silence falls for a moment, and you wonder what she must be saying to him, whether she’s falling for this or if she’s just as disbelieving as you are. You think she might be coming around based on how his voice changes yet again, how he’s both gentle and matter of fact, then his tone becomes almost boyish and sad.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the hall towards you. In a complete panic, you nearly jump out of your skin before looking around frantically for an escape. Desperate, you fling yourself into the room across the hall, but in your excitement, the door slams behind you.

Your hand pops to cover your mouth, as if this action alone will have kept anyone from hearing the door.

There is silence for a moment before you hear Elvis shouting, muffled, “Cliff? Cliff!”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you chastise yourself for being so damn stupid as to be eavesdropping on Elvis of all people, then you say a silent prayer that no one finds you as you hear more footsteps and another door slam. The footsteps head away, and with shaking breaths, you slowly open the door to find the hallway empty once more.

You tell yourself you are gonna skedaddle right out of there and go on with your business, but then you hear Elvis lay into her yet again:

“I-I-I love you very much a-and q-quit-quit-quit bitching and nagging me so much. I get so mad, I could break your neck.” That takes you aback, the way he just throws the phrase at her before going back to imitating her meanly, “’I can’t help it, I can’t help it! I can’t help it!’” W--w-w-w-what are you gonna do when I’m nuts and in an asylum?” Then he mumbles something you can’t understand but you hear him chuckle before he sighs big and loudly.

He's telling her he loves her but in a way that makes it obvious that he wants off the phone. She’s not having it based on the silence from his end.

Then he’s back to talking real nice and low to her, seemingly contrite and sorry, his stutter emphasizing it all. The stutter gives him away, you think, though you aren’t sure if it’s more agitation at her or that he’s feeling guilty. Perhaps it’s both.

“Well, m-maybe I’m not doing my part right now, but I mean give me a chance, you know. Just give me a chance. Don’t-don’t-don’t worry, j-j-just give me a chance, I-I, it’ll all come out in the long run. Okay? Take my word for it, hon, I wouldn’t lie to you. I love you, Anita.” A pause and then he giggles, “I’ll enjoy it. I love you very much darlin’. I do, Anita, I do…w-w-w-why would I lie to you, baby? I-i-if i-i-i if I’m l-l-l-lying…” he says, his stutter so bad now it’s hard to understand anything he’s saying.

You internally scoff at this. He’s been lying to her for years. But part of you wonders if he truly believes it will all turn out for them in the future. He is something of an idealist, after all. Maybe he really does fear losing her. Maybe that stutter is betraying his nerves rather than his guilt.

You aren’t sure how you feel about the prospect of him actually settling down, especially with Anita. For one, you don’t think it’s in his nature, but two, something about him doing it turns your stomach. You can’t pinpoint why, exactly, but the idea of him being married with little ones running about Graceland makes you want to scream.

You quickly push that thought out of your head, convincing yourself that your broiling frustration at him has more to do with his treatment of Anita than anything else. If he loves her and needs her so much, maybe he should just tell her the truth. You continue to listen in as he talks baby talk to her and emphasizes just how much he really will call her more, and then you hear him yawn.

“Hell, I’m tired. Oh, yeah. You do? You do? Well don’t sound so damn serious. How much you love me? How much you love me? Maybe? Baby? I love you. I love you. I wish, I wish, I wish I was with you,” he says, weary and tired of the conversation. There are long moments of silence, and you wonder what she is saying or if she’s hung up on him.

“I gotta go. There ain’t no party, I just gotta go. I’ll talk to ya later. I will. Don’t throw up more ideas…” He starts that terrible imitating of her again, “’I can’t! I can’t help that!’ I could slap your face right off.” He laughs through the rest now, and you know him well enough to know he’s being an asshole, provoking her. You can practically hear her shouting through the receiver, she’s yelling so loud.

“I think you’ve lost your damn mind. Yeah, ya have,” he says gently, quiet but cutting. Then he continues to chuckle, seemingly finding her agitation amusing. “Well…we’ll see. I’ll talk to ya later. Okay? Okay? Take care honey, be patient. Alright. Take it easy. Bye.” You hear the receiver click as he finally hangs up the phone.

You’re fuming now, a bit off the rails considering none of this has anything to do with you, and you know it. The gall of him to behave that way when he knows he’s in the wrong, that he is lying to her. For god’s sake, he is having a party right now and there are girls here that you know were invited by him for a particular purpose, and he’s over here telling Anita how tired he is and how crazy she is when she is right all along.

The now-small logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave and to get your nose out of his business before you do something stupid, but instead you listen to Elvis as he lets out a huge sigh that ends in a frustrated growl.

“Who in the hell is out there lurking in the hallway?” you hear him shout out of nowhere.

Shit.

Your heart pounds, knowing you are caught, and you are mad enough that you refuse to run away. You take a deep breath instead, pushing the door open slowly.

Elvis looks up through his dark lashes from behind the huge mahogany desk, his hands steepled and his jaw set. Surprise flashes over his features when he lays eyes on you, his left eyebrow shooting up, but his eyes quickly return to a steely blue, hardening.

“How much did you hear?” There’s no preamble, no beating around the bush, no charming quip.

You consider lying for a moment. “Enough,” you finally say, knowing lying would be futile—he knows you well enough to see through your deceit. You are angry enough at him for it to show on your face.

“Hmmm. Mmm hmm,” he tuts, seemingly disappointed in you, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, listening to my private conversation?” It comes out frighteningly low and biting.

You open your mouth to speak, but before anything gets out, he’s yelling, “What is it with the goddamn women in my life sticking their noses where they don’t belong?!” You cannot help but flinch at his outburst, even as angry as you are.

Elvis gets up so fast and so violently the rolling chair he’s sitting in flies backwards, hitting the bookshelf behind him. Rounding the desk, he advances on you, and you stumble, countering by stepping back. With his dark hair and flashing eyes, his features both soft and severe all at once, his natural beauty is intimidating.

Already angered by his conversation with Anita, he is teetering right on the edge of fury, on that blinding temper of his. Which is why you have no idea what comes over you next.

“So, how’s Anita?” you ask sardonically. A small part of you is hoping that your sarcasm will deescalate the situation. It does not. More likely, for whatever reason, you have this urge to push him right over the edge. He’s never turned his temper on you before, and his temper can be blindingly terrible, yet still you persist.

“Don’t be insolent. It doesn’t become you, y/n,” he seethes, his soulful eyes now a churning, hard, steely blue, like the northern Atlantic during a storm.

You continue anyway, “You should just tell her, E. She obviously suspects what you’re doing, wouldn’t it just be easier—"

“I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ opinion!” he shouts at you. Your heart begins to pound in your ears, along with the ringing of his voice, but you are stubborn as hell and pissed off, too, so despite all the warning bells, you keep going.

“You’re right, you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway as your friend and as a woman who knows—and more so because no one else will dare to call you on it—” you shoot at him, trembling with anger, “Being cheated on and then being lied to and made to feel crazy about it when you know something is wrong is awful. That’s why she’s nagging you all the time. You are making her feel crazy. You should either tell her or leave her, Elvis, but this isn’t right.” You let out a breath, your body hot with anger and you are surprised at your boldness.

“Aw, hell, y/n, you gonna be bitchin’ and naggin’ now, too, huh?” he barks, his eyes flashing.

More words, ones you didn’t expect to speak, come rolling off your tongue. “Why are you hanging on to her if you are just gonna constantly screw around behind her back? How can you really love her and do that to her? You have to know after all this time that she wants you to marry her, but I think we both know that’s not going to happen, is it? What exactly is the point of all this, then, Elvis?”

You expect him to scream at you again and you brace for it. But instead, he steps closer, cornering you. Anger is rolling off him in waves but now it’s tempered by something else, too. Something heavy and thick that starts to suck the air from the room as his deep eyes lock onto yours, unwavering.

“Why y/n, you sound almost jealous.” It comes out smooth, too smooth, with a dark chuckle as he takes one more bold step into you. Your back hits the wall, breath catching at the insinuation.

“W-what? No,” you eek out defensively, in a voice far too high for your liking. You feel your cheeks flush. You know objectively what he’s trying to do, distract and deflect blame for his situation off him and onto you. It’s manipulative but effective because you are flustered beyond repair now.

And maybe because there’s a little truth to it, that small voice from earlier adds. Though you have no idea how Elvis may have pulled that deep thought, one that you barely acknowledged yourself, from the deep recesses of your brain.

Faltering under the pressure of his gaze and the closeness of his lean body practically pressing up against yours, you try to skirt around him.

He slams his hand onto the wall next to your head and you wince as his arm blocks you in. You’re breathing hard now, feeling something between shock and fear and exhilaration as his beautiful face comes too close to yours, forcing you to turn back to him.

Elvis will not be ignored.

“I’m not sure I believe you, baby,” he purrs. “Why else would you be snooping into my private romantic business?” His nose almost grazes your face, tantalizing, the scent of his Old Spice filling your nostrils, consuming you. You realize you’ve never been this close to him, not like this.

Maybe there’s a good reason for that.

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you roll your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you respond, glaring at him. It sounds almost convincing.

Elvis chuckles meanly, not believing you, his lip curling into a grin, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s a panther stalking his prey, and you have come crashing into the jungle, demanding his attention.

His wrath is laced with something fervently sexual, and anything sexual coming from Elvis is ten times what it might be from another man. It’s intoxicating in the worst way possible, clouding your thoughts, distracting you from your frustration at his behavior. It’s as though, over time, he’s learned to wield his charismatic essence and his sexual energy into a weapon, one which he is now turning on you.

You realize you are in way over your head, but you’ve left yourself no room to backpedal out of this.

Elvis’ icy eyes roam over your face. For a moment you think he might close the gap between you two and press those pillowy lips to yours. For a moment you allow yourself to wonder if they feel as soft as they look, if they taste as sweet as you imagine.

What would he do if it were you that closed the gap? Would he be shocked out of his rage and pull away? Or would he kiss you back? Would you want him to?

Guilt washes over you, a cold shock, in response to these thoughts. What in the hell is wrong with me today?

But right now, cornered as you are, you feel like you might do almost anything to get out of this intense limbo he has you trapped in. You decide to call him out and see what happens.

“Oh, please, Elvis. Does this bull work on all the girls?” you hum almost nonchalantly, even though your heart is galloping, but it has the desired effect. He bites his tongue and shakes his head, leaning back from you. “What, you think you can just try and beguile me, of all people, and I’ll forget about what a jerk you’re being?”

“That’s not—,” he begins, through gritted teeth.

“Oh, shut it,” you interrupt, even more mad now after calling him out on his bad behavior for the second time. “I have half a mind to call Anita up myself after the stunt you just pulled!”

“The hell you will!” Elvis growls, eyes heated, yanking you by the arm towards the desk. “I’ll teach you what happens when you stick your nose where it don’t belong.”

You yelp in surprise as he pulls you over. It all happens so fast; you barely resist because your brain doesn’t comprehend what’s happening until he’s planted himself on top of the desk and bends you over his knee.

“Elvis, what are you…?” you yell. He cannot be serious, there is no way he will—

The first smack hits your backside hard. You choke in shock, not just at the sting but at his audacity. You are frozen, speechless, until you realize he’s aiming to do it again. You try to wriggle off his leg, flailing your arms for purchase, but he is much stronger than you. His arm clamps down on your back, holding you fast.

“Elvis!” you shriek at him, “Don’t you even think about—!” The second smack lands harder than the first, on the other cheek, and you squeal, kicking your legs.

“You gonna stay outta my business, y/n?” he asks.

“Goddamnit, Elvis!” you hiss, trying to glare back at him, but he holds you fast.

“Takin’ that as a ‘no’,” he muses, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he brings down his hand again. You yelp again, then grit your teeth. He’s not going easy on you, though you are absolutely sure he’s not anywhere at full strength, either. He’s not truly trying to hurt you. While your dress is softening some of the blow, it still smarts, sending your eyes watering.

You are livid, but much to your shock, you are also finding yourself exhilarated, stimulated. Your heart races and you have no idea what’s gotten into you. It’s like everything you’ve done in the last thirty minutes—poking your nose in where it didn’t belong, becoming so angry at him, pushing all of his buttons on purpose—was some strange way to get here. Not that you knew, not at all, that this would be your punishment, but it was almost as if you were crying out for his attentions all along.

This realization stuns you into stillness, and you barely register him talking to you again.

“I can do this all day, y/n, until you tell me what I need to hear,” he says in a sing-song voice. He’s enjoying it, his anger still there, but no longer at the forefront of his intent. No, now he is entirely focused on getting you to cry uncle.

You are stubborn and silent, though still reeling with confusion from your realizations of what got you here, slung over Elvis Presley’s knee, and that you, too, might be enjoying this, but in all the wrong ways. When his hand slaps your ass this time, you bite back the sound that wants to come forth, because it is no longer one of shock. Never in a thousand years do want to admit that you are relishing the feel of his hand on you like this, that the sting is having the opposite effect of what he wants or what either of you expects. It is wrong in so many ways.

Your lack of response must confuse him because you feel him hesitate in the slightest. You are unsure what comes over you, other than the impulse that you don’t actually want him to stop, which means he definitely should stop, but you can’t let him know why and instead it all comes out jumbled. The intended, “Elvis, please don’t!—Stop!” somehow (perhaps a little less than subconsciously) turns into a breathless, pleading for him to continue, “Elvis, please…don’t…stop.”

And though you feel his leg tense under you slightly, the only outward indication that he takes it any other way, he indeed does not stop. You squirm at the last second, realizing your mistake. And when his hand lands this time, fingers splayed wide, he hits decidedly lower and more centered than before. There is no way to know if it is purposeful or accidental, not that it matters in this moment because you cannot help the way your fingers dig into his thigh and the embarrassing moan that escapes your lips when he slaps your center along with your ass.

There is no denying what that sound meant. There’s no way to play it off or pretend it didn’t happen. You are fully aroused and completely mortified.

And Elvis knows it. You know he does by the way he stills, how his other hand clenches your dress at your waist, how you can feel his chest heaving along with your own in the thick, heavy silence that comes after.

For a moment, you wonder if he will push, if he’ll try to continue under the guise of this insane game, and a shameful part of you almost wants him to, wants to see how far you’ll both go, but that thought is fleeting.

He releases you, and you scurry off his lap as though he is on fire. And he might as well be with that tell-tale twinkle burning in his crystalline eyes, which are no longer stormy with anger but brimming with amusement and surprise and curiosity and heat. Then, as if he can’t help it, those pink lips pull up into a wide, cheeky smile, his tongue peeking out between his teeth and the tip touches his top lip. The look is somewhere between bashful and positively sinful.

You smooth your dress frantically with your hands, your face burning. Flustered beyond repair, you swipe at your watering eyes, feeling the heat scorch through your body. You are so utterly embarrassed that you could cry. Neither of you speaks at first (what in god’s name can you say??), but Elvis starts to giggle—giggle—that hiccupping little laugh of his that you know will spiral into a fit if he really gets going.

“Don’t you…don’t you dare laugh at me, Elvis Presley!” you sputter and stamp like a child, pointing at him, but his face is going red now and he’s starting to lose it.

“I’m-I’m n-n-not! I just c-can’t…” he stutters before he erupts into full blown belly laughs.

“Oh, my god,” you cry, bringing your hands to your face. You are both livid at him and mortified at yourself, but the situation is completely ridiculous and his laughter becomes contagious. “I swear to god, this isn’t funny!” you wail, fighting back your own laughter.

This just sends him into fresh peal of laughing, and he doubles over.

You finally break down, laughing, too. “Shut up!” you yell, but all the sting is out of it with your own giggles. “This is all your fault!”

“MY fault?!” he cries, trying to catch his breath, tears leaking from his eyes.

You don’t have an answer to that. You know it’s very much on both of you, especially you.

Finally, the laughter starts to die down and you both are wiping at your eyes and catching your breath. Silence starts to hang heavy again, but you break it with ferocity.

“Let’s just pretend that none of this ever happened, okay? I’ll forget everything I heard, and you’ll forget…the rest of it, and we’ll never, ever speak of this again,” you say seriously, with conviction. “Deal?”

As absurd as the whole situation is, you both know there are very real consequences, for both of you, if any of what’s transpired leaves this room. The problem is you know he can be terrible at keeping secrets; however, there is no way for him to tell yours without exposing himself. You can see him work through this now that he is calmed down, his blue eyes regarding you carefully.

You force yourself to remain steady under his intense gaze, trying your best to ignore the way your body wants to involuntarily respond to him all the sudden. You need him to know how serious you are because if this somehow got back to Jack, or to anyone at all, you would be humiliated at best and divorced at worse.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, you think, but it wouldn’t be good for anyone. But it lights enough panic in you to get your head on straight.

“I’m serious, Elvis. Not a word from either of us,” you reiterate, as Elvis’ face has become unreadable. Your body still feels hot and you will your heart to slow, praying that he’ll give you the answer you need so you can get the hell out of here.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods, “Not a peep.” He purses his lips and mimes locking them and throwing away the key. You want to roll your eyes, but instead breathe a sigh of relief. You turn, quick on your heel to leave, needing as far away as possible from this whole situation. Far away from him.

“Y/n?” he calls out from behind you as you reach for the door.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you brace yourself for a quip. You turn, not expecting to see the apologetic look on his face that you do. It’s almost childlike in its sincerity, his eyes big and mournful.

“I-I’m sorry I lost my temper. I-I-I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that,” he says, playing with his ring nervously.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. An apology is not at all what you were expecting. You blink a couple of times, your whirlwind of emotions calming for a moment.

“Thank you, E. And I’m sorry for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. It really is none of my business,” you add, cheeks warming again as you look down, feeling embarrassed for all the reasons, feeling exposed under his gaze.

“Naw, baby, you’re just callin’ it as you see it. You’ve never pulled punches with me, and I don’t expect you to start now,” he replies, lip curling up in a smile.

You nod. “Even so, I’ll do my best to refrain from spying on you in the future.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay.” You turn and leave before he has a chance to stop you again. Hurrying to the bedroom you are sharing with Jack, you lock yourself in, lean back on the door, and slide to the floor with your head in your hands.

What in god’s name came over you? Why would you do such a thing? And why in the hell did you like it when he touched you like that? Panic and guilt run through your veins like ice. You push all the thoughts away, as deep and as far as they will go.

Not a word. Pretend this never happened. Nothing is wrong if it never happened.

You repeat it in your head until it sticks.

Carrying the black folder with your sheet music, you take a deep breath and take a seat on the stage behind the curtains that hide the backstage from the audience. You’ve never been backstage for one of his shows, and it is bustling with musicians. Your job tonight is to follow along with the Sweet Inspirations and see if you can find your footing in the music while the show is happening. With the volume on stage, no one should be able to hear you from out front.

Nerves flow through you, nevertheless. It’s been a crazy three days with the vocal coach, who has assured you that, yes, you have the capability to do this and are “a natural,” but that you need to work through your stage fright. You’re not sure if it is her idea or Elvis’ to put you backstage during a performance, but here you are, your heart pounding as though you were going on stage with the rest of them.

In those three days, you haven’t seen Elvis alone, either. This has made you incredibly uneasy for a variety of reasons. Part of you is glad because you feel like your head is clearer about the whole affair, that you have some semblance of control, that if you want to end it (and you should) that you can.

However, another part of you craves his attention, missing him desperately, worried that he’s gotten what he wants from you and now is moving on. You keep thinking about how if he’s not spending his nights with you who might be keeping his bed warm instead. This fear is beginning to wreak havoc and is at odds with your logical thoughts. You know you need to get over it, to get over him, that all of this is just for fun anyways. It’s just sex. Nothing other than that was ever promised. He’s free to do what he wants with who he wants.

It's not as though you haven’t seen him, though, it just hasn’t been alone. Between your lessons, his schedule, and Jack seemingly looming everywhere, it’s been hard to steal any time away. As soon as you told Jack you were staying, that Elvis was offering you a job as part of the show, you couldn’t quite get a read on how he felt about it. Jack seemed surprised, a little annoyed, and wary when you told him. You were sure he wouldn’t want you around anymore, but instead he has been more attentive than usual, which has also thrown you for a loop. You don’t know if he suspects something might be going on, but he hasn’t been off cavorting until all hours of the night anymore, instead staying with the guys at the after party every night in Elvis’ suite.

In any case, all you and E have had are a couple of fleeting, longing looks and the occasional touch, which is maddening. He did come to one of your lessons, but remained professional in front of the coach, only giving you a quick peck on the cheek and left a lingering hand at your waist, burning through your dress and threatening to set you aflame right there and then.

During the after parties, where the gang, plus a lucky group of fans (usually pretty, young things), would come up and join you all. You smiled your way through the gatherings trying to appear as normal as possible as the girls flirted endlessly with Elvis, and he flirted back at them. Not to mention the way Jack would look at the girls, too. The whole situation was becoming untenable.

Thank god for Sandy, who always seemed to be there when you needed her, with a squeeze of a hand or a bump of your shoulder, stealing away with you to the bathroom when it all became too much.

But, lucky for you, you at least had a distraction of learning all the music for the show, hence why you are here now, amongst the fervent energy that is building backstage. The Sweet Inspirations just finished their set, and now everyone is waiting on the man of the hour.

You finally see him round the corner, clad in his black herringbone suit, the one you find impeccably flattering on him. He looks gorgeous but is vibrating with nervous energy and seems like he could be sick at any moment, his eyes focused on something only he can see. Involuntarily, you rise out of your chair in his presence, wanting to go to him, to comfort him, but you stop yourself. It isn’t your place, and you don’t want to distract him or possibly make his nerves worse.

Much to your surprise, Elvis seems to sense you, turning to you, and his cobalt eyes light up when they meet yours. He switches gears, much to the surprise of some of the guys, and walks towards you. They don’t follow, which you are glad for. You meet him, desperately wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but everyone seems to be watching. His eyes travel over your face, needy under the fear he’s experiencing.

“You’re here,” he says gratefully, as though it is a surprise that you actually showed up.

“I’m here,” you reply. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. But better now,” he says, those big blue eyes blinking at you with an almost shy smile.

“Me, too,” you laugh. God, you want to touch him so badly, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch.

“I miss you,” he whispers, and it nearly breaks your heart with the way it makes it swell in your chest.

“I miss you, too,” you nod breathlessly, “and we’ll talk later, but right now, you need to go out there and kick some ass, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks and letting it out slowly. He reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezing it tight, his huge rings cold against your skin. Then he turns abruptly, heads off, and cues the band to start.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Seeing that side of him, so needy and small, is such a contrast to how larger than life he is as he walks on that stage. It reminds you so much of the young man he once was, so different from the cocky, self-assured man he can be today.

Then the show starts in earnest and you sit back down, realizing you have a job to do and can’t just moon over him the entire show. You do your best to follow the music, humming along, quietly finding the high harmonies to the songs you feel like you’ve heard a million times but are now experiencing differently because you are listening for other things.

You do notice that some of his jokes are falling flat and that the audience isn’t responding as enthusiastically as they could be. Elvis fights for their attention, being the consummate performer that he is, and you can tell he’s a bit ruffled by it.

By the end of the show, you’ve been swept up in the music and it feels like no time has passed, your nerves long forgotten. It’s an amazing feeling, really, as the crowd applauds and the curtain falls and everyone bustles with after-show energy. Even though you weren’t officially on stage, you still feel swept up in the high of it all and it’s invigorating.

Elvis, of course, is soaked with sweat, breathless as the swarm descends with compliments, though he doesn’t smile or seem to believe them even though he nods through them. You know he is a perfectionist in his own right and by his demeanor, he seems agitated by how the performance went. His eyes find yours only briefly, guarded, before he is hustled away. You hide your disappointment in collecting your music and instead focus your energy on conversing with some of the musicians as they pack up their instruments. The mood feels sour, dampened, as Elvis’ displeasure radiates even after he leaves. Your emotions are tumultuous, as you feel neglected, and you are glad when you see Sandy waiting for you so you can go up to the penthouse together.

“How’d it go?” she practically bounces. “How nervous were you?”

“Pretty nervous at first, but after the first song, I just kinda got swept up in the music. It was pretty remarkable, actually,” you reply. “Though E didn’t seem very happy with the show.”

She pulls you along, through the curtains and out into the hallway. “And how is…everything else?” she intones with a knowing look.

You sigh, shifting your music folder to the other arm, looking down. You hurry her along, away from prying ears. “He came up to me before the show and told me he missed me,” you whisper.

“Oooh, really? That’s good, right? Sometimes a man needs to know what he’s missing to really appreciate it,” she muses. “Do you miss him, too?”

“I don’t want to! But as soon as he was there in front of me, I felt like I was gonna come out of my skin to get to him. I’m just…having all these feelings I don’t know what to do with, San,” you fluster. “Every time I think I have a handle on it, something happens to remind me that I’m completely off the rails.”

“You’re not ‘completely off the rails’, y/n. You’ve just got it bad,” she says almost nonchalantly.

“Ugh! I’m desperate to see him alone, and seeing him but not being able to touch him or to do anything that might give us away is hard. Not to mention, all these girls hanging all over him is making me crazy, and Jack seems to be everywhere under foot all the sudden, which is even more maddening. Oh, I need to end this. I can’t keep doing this,” you whine.

“Listen to me, we are just gonna go upstairs and hang out with everyone just like normal, okay? And we’ll try to get you two alone at some point. I’ll talk to Jerry, okay?” Sandy says, grabbing you by the shoulders. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, babe,” you sigh. “I’m fine, really.”’

Sandy side-eyes you as you both head up to the top floor.

The guys have procured yet another gaggle of women and a few men to join the party tonight. Jack has planted himself next to you, uncharacteristically putting his arm around you. Surprised, you try not to stiffen, reminding yourself that this is your husband and it’s totally normal for him to put his arm around you, but it feels more possessive than affectionate. Or maybe you are just imagining it.

You busy yourself making small talk as you all wait for Elvis to appear. When he does, freshly washed, the smell wafts over you, reminding you of your most recent escapades in the shower. You flush a little at that, hiding your face by taking a drink.

Elvis glances at you only momentarily as he enters. He seems a little off, you think, a little edgy, as he commands the room and finds a seat amongst the girls. Your jaw tenses as they fawn and fall all over him, and he flirts back as though he can’t help it. This makes you insane to watch for the third night in a row. All you can think about is his hands on someone else the way you want them to be on you.

And the more you want Elvis’ hands on you, you instead get Jack’s, which seem to be gripping you at all times in some way. Over your shoulder, on your knee, on your hand…you’re trapped in this tortuous hellscape where you would do anything to get him to stop touching you, but you can’t, you can’t without it giving yourself away.

You are equally trapped as you watch your lover give his attention to everyone but you. Every time Elvis laughs or smiles or his eyes sparkle flirtatiously, or if he touches one of them or when they touch him, you want to launch right out of your chair at him.

He wants them, you think. That’s why he hasn’t seen you the last few days. He’s been with other women.

The thought drips like poison into your heart, twisting it, filling you with anger and sadness.

Why would he want you when he can have any pretty young thing? No one wants you. No one chooses you. It drips again, icy and brutal.

All of it goes on for what feels like an eternity, and you want to scream, to cry, to escape, but you’ve made this bed and now are being forced to lie in it. It’s your punishment for all your misdeeds, you think. But your stomach is rolling with an ever-growing fury at Jack, at Elvis, at those girls, at yourself, and you start to squirm in your seat.

Finally, your jealousy gets the better of you. If Elvis won’t pay attention to you, then you’ll find someone else who will. It makes the most sense that it’s your husband, of course, who is already strangely attached to you tonight, so you bite your tongue and force yourself to return his affections instead of shirking from them. You lean into him, you put your hands on him, on his chest, his arm, his leg. You pretend it was like it was years ago, when you still both wanted each other more than anything. You throw yourself into the act because it takes your mind off the women across the room.

Jack is surprised, you can tell, but he’s not too far gone into the bottle and soon is returning your affections, pecking at your cheek and neck. After a while, when he whispers in your ear that he wants you, part of you is exhilarated, powerful, because finally your husband wants you again.

It’s in that moment when Elvis’ eyes find yours for only the second time since you’ve been here, those intense blues locking on as Jack’s breath tickles your ear. Elvis’ gaze darkens dangerously, and you watch his jaw clench as he watches you and Jack. And when Jack takes your hand, pulling you off the couch, you feel Elvis’ eyes burning holes into your back.

Finally, is all you can think. Finally, the men in your life are paying attention.

You are so wrapped up in this game, in your anger and your jealousy, that when Jack yanks you into the bathroom and locks the door behind him, you aren’t even upset about it. You want to be disgusted at him (and you are—you still hate him for what he’s put you through), but in this moment, he only has eyes for you and that’s all you want right now, even if it is misguided. Even if the love isn’t there like it’s supposed to be.

When he kisses you with his whisky-tinged breath, it almost feels like he cares. When he gropes you and touches your body in the places he thinks he knows will turn you on, you pretend that it does. You let yourself get swept into a fantasy, into the act, because at least it’s something to chase away all the terrible things you’ve done and all the terrible thoughts in your head.

When you grab at the straining erection in his pants, the heat of him burning into your palm, and hear his gasping moans in your ear, you feel powerful. As you sink to your knees, you relish the look of lust and surprise in your husband’s eyes, and it’s enough to keep you going, even though part of you is appalled. You take him into your mouth, closing your eyes, wishing he was someone else. Jack twists his hand in your hair as he leans against the counter, slack jawed, and you know this won’t take long. It makes it bearable. You’ve known him long enough to know exactly what to do: how to lick, where to touch, the noises you need to make. And you relish in the control you have as he comes undone in record time.

Jack is still gasping for breath when you stand, spitting what he left in your mouth in the sink and washing your mouth out. He grabs at your ass, panting, “Jesus, treasure, what’s got into you? That was fuckin’ hot.”

You shrug coyly at him in the mirror. “I gotta pee, sweetie,” you say, shooing him out, wanting him away from you. More than anything, you want to be alone to simmer in your anger and revulsion.

“Mmm, okay. Thanks, babe,” he hums, still obviously refracting, drunk on you rather than whisky for once. He kisses your cheek sloppily before zipping up and heading out. It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t even make an attempt to get you off. Not that he could, but it figures.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair askew and cheeks red, eyes blazing. This is the woman I’ve become, you think bitterly. I’m either fucking my lover with my husband in the next room, or I’m sucking off my husband with my lover in the next room.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You don’t recognize yourself anymore. You ache for Elvis, but you cover it with anger and jealousy and fear. You hate Jack for what he’s done to you, yet you fall into him and use him the first chance you get.

Rooting around in the drawers, you find some toothpaste and swish it around in your mouth, hoping, wanting to get the taste of Jack, the taste of your own bitterness out. You wash your hands and comb your hair, wondering if this was enough, if you can go back out there at watch Elvis with those women and not die a little inside.

Knock, knock.

The insistent rap on the door startles the hell out of you and you jump. “One second!” you shout with one last look in the mirror. You open the door quickly, not wanting to keep whoever is waiting, and walk out.

And you run smack into Elvis’ chest. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s him—at this point you know his physique and his scent anywhere. A little yelp escapes your lips, and you feel the heat, the anger rolling off him in waves. You gulp, raising your eyes to his and they are as hard and dark as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart jumps into your throat as he grabs you by the arm and yanks you across the hall, throwing you into his bedroom and slamming the door behind so hard that the wall shakes.

You stumble for a second in your heels but recover quickly, turning to face him. Elvis is furious, in that terrifying way you’ve seen before, nearly blacked out with rage. You can see him barely holding on, gripping to a sliver of sanity as he faces you, chest heaving.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he seethes, his hands fisted and jaw clenching and unclenching, black hair tumbling over his forehead.

Your heart sprints in your chest and you unconsciously step backwards before you catch yourself and stop, lifting your chin at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say almost haughtily.

“The fuck you don’t,” he says, advancing on you. You scurry back again, putting the large couch in between the two of you. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was all over you and how you were all over him out there for everyone to see?? You think I didn’t know what was goin’ on when you left?? You think I didn’t see his fuckin’ face comin’ back into the room, grinnin’ like an idiot?!” he screams, grabbing a bottle of water off the coffee table and hurling into the wall.

You flinch as the bottle explodes, glass tinkling down to the floor. “Elvis, stop it! Calm down, everyone can hear you!” you hiss, trying to knock some sense into him, but he’s way beyond that.

“I don’t give a shit!” he yells. “How could you fuckin’ do that?” The rage and the hurt you see in his blacked-out eyes is more than you ever expected and tugs at your heart. But you are still furious in your own right, furious at him for this display, furious at the whole situation.

“How could I do what, E? What? Be with my husband? My husband? Or have you forgotten since the stunt you pulled the other day in the bathroom that I have one?” you throw back at him, “That I have to go back to my room every night to him, pretending like everything is fine? Did you forget that?”

You’re not even sure if he hears you with how gone he is. He rounds the couch, coming for you. Scrambling back, you find that you have nowhere to go, your back is against the wall. Reaching you, he grabs your face in his large hands, his intense eyes drilling into you. “I don’t ever want to see you looking at another man, touching another man. I’m a really jealous motherfucker, y/n. And I don’t ever, ever, ever want you to be with another man, I don’t care who he is. I want to know that you’re mine and all mine,” he heaves.

“Are you kidding me?” you say, wrenching out of his grasp. “How can you demand that of me when you know it’s not possible? I have to keep up the pretense of my marriage! And you think I don’t know that you’ve been with other women? It’s been three days, Elvis, I’m not an idiot!” He looks at you with a mix of dumbfounded innocence and rage. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Maybe it was the girl in your lap just now or the one kissing you that gave it away!”

Elvis growls, shaking his head, staring down at you with those endless eyes. “You’re just fuckin’ jealous. You’re so jealous you went and fucked your husband in my bathroom to get my attention, is that it?” He slams his hand on the wall next to your head, but you refuse to react.

You know you shouldn’t say it, but he’s right and you know it. You did do it to get his attention, and now you have it. “No, baby, I didn’t fuck him. I just sucked him off and spit him out,” you say demurely, cutting, batting your eyes at him, knowing and not caring how awful you’re being.

The way his eyes widen betrays his shock, but he covers it quickly as they narrow. You wonder for a moment if you should be truly afraid because you have pushed him too far, but you almost don’t care. Part of you wants him to feel all of this, a fraction of the tumultuousness that you’ve been feeling for the last week.

“Hmmm…,” he hums, then clicks his mouth. His eyes are black and blazing as they pass over your body. This stillness is almost more frightening than the shouting. You shiver, trembling, but it’s just as much from your own anger as from his, and you can feel the fury laced with something else entirely. You refuse to back down or look away.

“You goddamn fuckin’ little brat,” Elvis finally snarls and yanks you with him to the couch. He slams down and pulls you over his knees, and suddenly, a memory from a long time ago flashes in your brain, one you had entirely pushed out of your mind. You choke on it as it floods back to you, knowing he must remember, too, knowing that everything is quite different this time around.

You gasp when Elvis pulls up your dress and yanks down your panties, the cold air of the room hitting your most sensitive areas. “Elvis! Elvis, don’t you dare, don’t you even--!” you shriek, writhing in his lap, not knowing if your words are protests or encouragements at this point.

When his open palm slaps your ass, the sound reverberates through the suite, the sting radiating down your thighs and sending water into your eyes. You gasp again, more from surprise than anything. Surprise that while it smarts, it doesn’t feel bad.

“Elvis,” you breathe out, wriggling in his lap.

He holds you to him. “Oh, don’t you ‘Elvis’ me. You’ve been an obstinate, naughty lil’ brat, and I ain’t havin’ it,” he says through gritted teeth before bringing his hand biting down onto the other cheek.

You hold back your cry, digging your nails into his thigh instead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big reaction. Beyond the sting, you feel heat gathering in your belly, but you don’t want him to know that either.

“Seems ya need a lesson or two about how to behave, now don’tcha, you naughty lil’ girl?” he seethes, laced with a sneer. He brings down his hand again, and this time you can’t hold back the sound that emanates from your throat, a whiny moan.

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Elvis purrs wickedly, rubbing your stinging skin with his fingers. You are completely at his mercy now, your frustrations unravelling under his touch. You buck in his lap, needing more, needing him to ease your toxic thoughts.

“Hmm, you like rilin’ me up? Like gettin’ me all worked up and jealous, huh?” He smacks your ass again, this time his fingers grazing your core. You moan fully now, unable and unwilling to contain it, tears running down your face, your heat building in the most confounding of ways.

“Answer me—didja pull that lil’ stunt on purpose, baby?” he asks, his hand reverberating on you again.

“Y-yes,” you breathe out.

“Yes, what?” he pushes, palming your ass, leaning down towards your ear, his breath hot.

It takes you a second in your haze to piece together what exactly Elvis wants, and once you do, it sends a delectable shiver down your spine. Once again, he never ceases to amaze you in how he can bring out pleasure in you that you never knew you craved or needed.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whine.

You hear him choke back a groan at that and next to your arm, you feel a twitch in his pants. You can’t help but smile.

“You wanted my attention, and now you’re gettin’ it, honey. Is that what you want?” he says, heat leeching from his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe again.

He brings his hand down one more time with a grunt, and you cry out in pleasure and pain, ass raw but you are somehow feeling a release that you didn’t know you needed.

“Look at you, baby,” Elvis says, somewhere between pride and surprise, running a finger through your folds, which unbeknownst to you are dripping wet. You bite your lip at the contact, sucking a breath in. You want him to touch you, but instead he pulls you up to face him. You hiss at the feeling of your raw ass hitting the backs of your heels as you kneel on the sofa.

He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, tears staining your cheeks. “I need ya to look at me, honey,” he orders. You do. His eyes are still dark, but his fury has been tempered by lust.

“You been waitin’ eight long years for me to do that, haven’t ya?” he murmurs. Of course, he remembers exactly how long it’s been.

Your heart flutters and you nod, admitting to yourself that it may have crossed your mind once or twice, in your most secret moments.

“Ain’t nobody else touched you like that, baby?” The way he asks it is almost laced with hope, hope that this is something of you that only he gets to have.

“Never,” you whisper, shaking your head, his hand still gripping your chin.

“Only me, huh? Good girl,” he says, pleased. He lets go of your chin, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. Then he looks in your eyes.

“I need you to be truthful with me now, baby, yeah? Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Do you want me to keep bein’ rough with ya? Are ya likin’ that? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna stop,” he asks, voice real low.

You appreciate him pausing long enough to ask you and you consider him for a moment, though it doesn’t take long. “Yes, I like it,” you say, surprising yourself with the truth of it.

That dark look flashes over Elvis’ face again, and it sends a thrill right through you.

“Okay, but you tell me if you need me to stop, promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good, cuz I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet and I’m still fuckin’ pissed,” he growls. Your heart plummets into your belly with excitement as you watch the sweetness drain from his eyes, replaced by his fervent anger from earlier.

And you smile.

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