#that's why they have made attempts to start negotiations up again sooner

[chirpsythismorning]

For what I've seen, the ST production team has been working all o this time since none of them are part of neither the WGA nor SAG-Aftra. This probably means they've advanced a lot of work. Do you think that once the strikes are over, this will make it easier for them to start filming as soon as possible or even for the filming process to take less time than initially predicted? (Around a year)

It’s possible.

But it’s also worth noting that them needing a full year to film ST5 is for a multitude of reasons.

With all the delays, they now have to rework their entire schedule post-strike, as it won’t look the same as it looked before the strike. They need to be able to fit dozens of cast-members schedules together to ensure that their availability aligns with other cast-members they have scenes with.

While ST does get first dibs more than the casts other projects because of their contract with Netflix, it’s a lot easier to plan a schedule when you get everyone’s schedules, put them all together, and look at what aligns and what doesn’t, to make it easier for everyone.

For example, it made sense that despite certain cast members being unavailable in May to film, there were rumors (multiple statements from Noah himself) that he would start filming in May. And that’s likely because he started school again in the fall, and so it makes sense they looked at his schedule and determined it would be best to squeeze in as much filming for him as possible from May-August before school started in the fall, with him having a good chunk of time throughout the school year to go back to school for tests, etc..

Another example is David Harbour, who said he was going to be filming Thunderbolts in Atlanta simultaneously while he was filming ST5 in Atlanta. This means he would likely have at least 1-2 weeks of filming for ST and then 1-2 weeks of filming Thunderbolts, with days off and on within the mix, in order to accommodate both films schedules and when they need him for certain scenes.

I think a lot of fans assume that 1 year of filming means nonstop filming for each cast member, which is just not the case.

Even if certain actors have a lot of scenes in each episode, there are still scenes without them.

For example, let’s say Millie has 8 scenes total in 5x01 or something. There are still going to be several scenes without her, upwards of over 10 scenes give or take. That's scenes with other characters filming without Millie present because she does not have to be because she is not in any of the shots. Millie does not need to be strictly in Atlanta for those 1-2 weeks that it takes to film the block of scenes that do not include her. If they can make it so actors are able to be gone for 1-2 weeks of time, as opposed to just filming 1-2 scenes and then having to wait 2-3 days for their next scene, they’ll try to. Not saying that won’t happen occasionally, as I'm sure there are times when it's maybe a week on and week off or three weeks on and one off, but still, doing it in larger blocks to make it easier and accommodate everyone, is much more realistic because it just makes it a lot smoother to flesh out the schedule like that with their main (high demand) cast, and then fit side characters (not as high demand aka more wide open availability) around that.

For example, Amybeth only had like 4ish scenes total throughout the entirety of s4, and she lives out of the country, so it wouldn’t make sense to have her stay in Atlanta for upwards of a year. Instead Amybeth was only in Atlanta filming for two weeks total for those scenes featuring her, from mid May-early June 2021. That meant they had to ensure Maya (and Joe lmao) were available during that time Amybeth would be on set bc they had scenes together. Fun fact, if you pay close attention to the shots with Vickie during the pep rally, it's clear that it was filmed on a different day than the rest of the scenes, bc in the wide shots we don't even see the band on the bleachers (TV magic!). This means that only that corner with the band was filled up and the rest of the bleachers were empty when they shot that scene with Amybeth and Maya. No one else needed to be there since it wasn't necessary.

Usually, filming for 1 episode takes about a month. But it’s likely much of ST5’s episodes will be a little over 60 minutes as opposed to like 50 minutes. So giving them about 1-1.5 months to film each episode, 8 total (unless that changes), puts them at approximately 12 months aka a year. While some episodes might take only a month (or maybe even less) to film, the finale is going to be over 2 hours, which means filming for the finale will take closer to 2 months potentially.

This means 12 months is a very good estimate for how long it could take to film ST5 overall. Though to be fair, given the circumstances of them being on hiatus for so long and maybe being more prepared, maybe it’ll take a little bit less than that? But I honesty don’t think it will be by much, as most years they end up underestimating and it takes a little bit longer than anticipated bc of impromptu delays. (This is also assuming the strike ends and filming starts in Oct, only a couple months from now, which isn't guaranteed whatsoever either).

Even if the strike ends and filming is in full swing and they have a plan to finish in 12 months, there’s no way of knowing for certain if something else could impact filming and cause it to take longer. We should know by now with COVID and the strike that nothing is guaranteed until it’s all filmed. Once it’s all filmed, THEN we can actually start theorizing about when it will premiere.

ST5 premiered about 8 months after filming, not only because post-production is time consuming in and of itself, but because they wanted to have it come out in summer as opposed to Spring. Maybe the first few episodes were ready way earlier, but the later ones weren't even close, so holding off for a more suitable release period, Summer, which they prefer for ST releases anyways, makes sense.

A best case scenario rn, that I allow myself to hope for still, despite everything (assuming the studios get their heads out of their asses asap), is ST5 starting filming in October this year and finishing in October 2024. This puts them at a similar roll out period to ST4, with about 8 months of post-production and a premiere in the summer sometime in 2025 between May-August, whether that include two volumes or not. Netflix is a lot more likely to push for a summer release, regardless of them starting/ending filming sooner than October. Hell, even if they finished editing those first 5 eps by like March or something, Netflix would much rather stretch and wait to release those in early summer with the rest in mid/late summer again, bc they’ve never done Spring releases and I don’t think they’re going to start now. Especially bc I think it will be pushing it in terms of the working conditions being way too strenuous for VFX/editors. I'd rather have them push for a summer release and take their time and make it as good as they can, then to rush and make a spring release and have it feel half ass, only to be over forever.

I know people get sad knowing how long it's going to take to come out. But I just can't comprehend wanting it to be out ASAP, and most likely poorly, only to be over forever. Like this is the end for real. Maybe you'll see one of the characters pop up in a spin off, at best, but it wont be any of the mains that is for certain.

ST5 in 2024 is 100% not happening, so unless you want s5 to be edited for a mere 2 months at absolutely shit quality, let it go. If you want to hope for Spring 2025 go ahead, but that release period is already unprecedented with/without the strike, so don't hold your breath. I would try to accept ST5 Summer 2025 and hope that is as far as it goes. TBH if the strike goes past October, Netflix is going to have to come up with a deal because they are risking ST not premiering in the Summer like they want. If they don't make a deal by then, they'll presumably be forced to make a deal asap, otherwise they’d just be fucking themselves over.

[tehuti88-art]

5/17/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Inge (last name never given). (Her name is deliberately meant to evoke Inga Dobermann.) She appears only in backstory as a farm widow whose property Lt. Hesse's unit is billeted at, and the two have a brief relationship. She has a daughter by him but he never learns she exists. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding her design, like Hesse, she's a blue Doberman pinscher. I'm iffy on her hairstyle, but anyway.

TUMBLR EDIT: Inge never appears in the main story; she only appears in an adult WIP featuring Gunter Hesse and herself, set while Hesse is serving in the Waffen-SS near the Eastern Front. Keep in mind my timeline is slightly different, the war starts and Germany and the Soviet Union part ways sooner. At this time, Hesse is living with the Dobermann family--Adelina is around eleven or so, I think--and is easily radicalized by propaganda of the budding SS, since he's still pretty bitter about how the previous war ended (with him badly injured, alone, and addicted to morphine); Inga, who met him and Louis Dobermann recuperating in hospital (they both fell in love with her there, but Dobermann made the first move), insists on him staying with them after she marries, and although he knows she's off limits now, he vows to get clean for her. He never falls out of love with her, but also never tries anything, and grows quite close to Adelina. So when war breaks out again and he decides to enlist--not in the military, which he feels betrayed him, but in the SS--Adelina is heartbroken, and Inga, despite her growing alarm over his political views, begs him not to go. Inga is actually a big part of the reason why he feels he has to go: He privately hopes that time away may dampen his feelings for her, and if not that, that at least SS life might toughen him up so he can handle things better. He replies to Inga's insistence that he's part of their family and has no need to prove himself again that he really ISN'T part of their family--he has no family--and this is why he has to prove himself, as he has nothing else. The SS will be his family now. He promises to do his best to come back to them, and to write to Lina. His application is accepted, he passes the physical, and he heads off to the front. The Dobermanns don't see him again for several years.

Discipline and a sense of personal purpose are indeed just what Hesse needs; like I said, he never does break Inga's hold on him, but he learns better how to cope with it and conceal his feelings. The SS also gives him a sense of brotherhood and belonging that he's always longed for yet lacked. He's older and more experienced than many of the other recruits, so is soon placed in a position of authority by his unit leader, General Immerwahr. When not engaged in active combat, his unit often patrols areas near the front to watch out for Soviet troops attempting to sneak in; it's a wide-open area of isolated farms, not too different from where the Dobermanns live, and so, often, farms are the only place to stay.

Immerwahr's unit approaches one of these farms one day and is met by a woman with a vaguely hostile demeanor; the Waffen-SS troops are known for their ill treatment of civilians, including their fellow Germans, so of course a woman living on her own--there's no husband or male farmhands anywhere in sight--is understandably nervous. She refuses to give her name, and doesn't ask theirs, making it clear she prefers that they all remain strangers to each other (Immerwahr calls her Frau X), yet she agrees to Immerwahr's request to temporarily billet his men at her place. As they're negotiating terms, the men notice two children, young girls, peering out of a doorway; the woman shoos them back out of sight, obviously distressed that the men know about them now. It's clear she was trying to hide them, which makes it even clearer that she allowed the troops into her home only out of necessity, and planned to offer herself to protect her girls if need be. Immerwahr, picking up on this, says they have no interest in harming her as long as they're allowed to stay, though she plainly doubts.

A newer scene not originally in the WIP occurs around here. As the men are talking and the woman is fetching them drinks, since it's late and she has no food prepared, one of them privately accosts her, demanding something to eat; nothing sexual or anything, but he gets more threatening the more she tries to put him off. He grabs her wrist and then is promptly cuffed upside the head, letting her go; she steps back and watches as Hesse smacks the other officer around a little, berating him for disobeying Immerwahr and ordering him back to the group. He reports the inappropriate behavior to Immerwahr, who apologizes to the woman, and sets the guy up outside to take first watch as punishment. After figuring out when to start preparing breakfast for everyone, the woman starts assigning the men places to sleep; Immerwahr gets an unused bedroom, while most of the others just end up where they doze off. The woman directs Hesse to sleep on the floor near the door of her daughters' room, to keep anyone else out; following what happened earlier, she assumes he's the most trustworthy of the lot. It's late, so everyone heads to bed.

Hesse gets up in the middle of the night to go outside and relieve himself; on his way back to the girls' room, someone reaches out to grasp his arm, startling him. "Sie...?" ("You...?") he says to the woman, since he doesn't know what else to call her, and wonders what she wants. She doesn't say anything, just pulls him into the bedroom after her. He doesn't protest.

Hesse returns to the girls' room a while later without needing to be asked, resuming his spot on the floor. This scene occurs the next morning:

She rose again before daybreak and went to peek in on her girls. The older girl still slept in the bed, though her younger daughter had taken her blankets and her pillow and doll and was curled up on the floor not far from the sleeping lieutenant. She stared at them for a little while before leaving them. She headed to the kitchen, getting the coffee ready.

The house was still rather dark as she moved silently about the room, fetching all the mugs and cups she owned. At least the soldiers weren't choosy. It took so long to prepare the coffee that some of them received it only warm and not hot, but they hadn't complained. She was mulling over what she might need to do over the next few days before they left when a soft voice behind her said, "Sie...?"

She jumped a little and quickly turned. She couldn't make out the features of the man standing in the entry to the kitchen. "Apologies," he said, and she recognized the lieutenant's voice. He spoke very quietly. "Hadn't meant to startle you."

She nervously brushed back her hair. "It's...it's all right. Did my girls wake you? I'm sorry, if they did."

"Nein, I always wake early. That was why I wished to talk, though. One of them, the little one, she got out of the bed sometime during the night, it appears. Fell asleep on the floor. I'm not sure why. I put her back in the bed. If she mentions it later on, that was how it happened, I hope you believe I tried nothing inappropriate."

She let out a small breath. "That's...that's all right. She wakes sometimes. She used to come crawl in the bed with my hus...my husband and me." She flinched a little at her own words, hoping he didn't notice.

She saw him nod. "You need help?"

"This pot needs only to brew. I'm almost done. Danke, though."

"If you don't need anything else I'm going to step outside for a while."

"I..." She started speaking without even thinking; he'd been turning to leave, but halted and looked back. "I could join you," she said quietly, "if you don't mind."

He hesitated. "Your girls?"

"I think they'll be fine. You don't believe your men will bother them?"

"They won't." Another pause. "I don't mind," he added.

While they're together this time, she asks him his name, and tells him her own, Inge. She doesn't understand why this gets such a startled reaction from him. She does notice, however, that he afterward briefly starts referring to her as "Inga"--it could be brushed off as a mistake, except that he does it more than once. She thinks she understands now.

"Your woman," she said softly; he looked at her, brow furrowing slightly. "Your woman is named Inga...?" she asked.

He blinked, then reddened. Sat up a bit abruptly so she backed away a little. "My woman..." he echoed, then, "Nein. Not my woman." He lowered his head, looking aside. "Someone else's woman." A pause. "Your name made me think of her...I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Inge said, hating to embarrass him. "You remind me a little of my husband," she admitted.

He peered back at her. "I...sort of wanted to ask. Where is your husband?"

Inge lowered her eyes, brushed back her hair. "I...we lost him. A little over six months ago."

He flinched slightly at the latter words. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Sometimes when I wake I still think he's there," Inge murmured. "And then I remember." She smoothed her dress down where his grip had crumpled it over her breasts. "Have you lost anyone?"

"I haven't had anyone to lose, yet," he replied, looking away.

She furrowed her brow. "No one...? No woman of your own?"

"I haven't found her yet."

For some reason this response made her twinge inside, a spark of sadness; there was a resigned note in his voice, as if he doubted she even existed by now. She pulled herself closer again and when he turned back to her she placed her hand against his face. Almost automatically, he placed his hand over hers, fingers grasping.

Inge makes Hesse an offer: "Come to my room tonight. Come to my room every night until you leave. You can be my husband and I can be your Inga. We can be whoever we need each other to be." Hesse, surprised, consents, visiting Inge's room every night, though he stops referring to her as Inga, and she stops trying to imagine him as her late husband. They accept each other as who they actually are, Inge and Hesse, two strangers who aren't meant to know each other for long. When the time comes for Hesse's unit to depart, it's understandably bittersweet--not only have Inge and Hesse grown rather fond of each other, but Inge's two girls have grown close to him, and he seems to like them as well--but neither of them protests it, neither makes any promises to try to find each other again. It's just understood that this is likely not to happen. Hesse takes his place in his unit, Immerwahr thanks Inge for her hospitality, and the unit heads out. Hesse does cast one last glance at Inge and her girls as the men march off. He, and Inge, both feel a wistful twinge. At some other time, in some other circumstances, they might have made a family, the sort of family Hesse always longed for, but never got to have.

Hesse continues in the Waffen-SS, is badly injured, released from service, and then heads back home to the Dobermann estate. Adelina, and Inga, greet him happily; he's stunned that "his little Lina" is nearly grown by now. He accepts Inga's welcome, though when she tries to place her hand against his face, a familiar gesture she's used in the past, he abruptly pulls away. There's a distance between them now, and though Inga isn't sure of the circumstances behind it, she grants Hesse his space. Adelina had expected him to regale her with tales of war, so doesn't understand why he declines to talk much about his service; Inga gently tells her that war takes a lot out of a person, to let him rest, and he'll be his old self sometime soon. She isn't expecting it when, some time later, Hesse receives a letter from SS headquarters, accepting his application to their noncombatant branch...turns out his service to the brotherhood isn't over with just yet.

Hesse moves on, takes up his new job as an investigator for the Allgemeine-SS, starts a relationship with Sophie Sommer. He never stops loving Inga--even unwittingly participating in faking her death--though he keeps his distance, always treats her with respect. And as the Third Reich falls, he makes the split decision to choose her and the Dobermann family over his loyalty to the SS, helping them escape at the cost of his own life. His service did discipline him, made him better able to conceal his feelings, but it never did kill them; even though she was never his to have, he loves Inga to the very end.

There's a small sad postscript which Hesse never realizes while he's alive. Outside the main story, there's a still-canon section I call "In Heaven"--basically, certain characters getting the chance to see, after life, how things could have gone--and following his violent death at the hands of his beloved SS, Hesse chooses to move on to the next life, by living through the lives of everyone else who was impacted by his actions. It's a process that takes a split second, yet also years and years, as time has no meaning in the next life, and given the awful things Hesse did in his first life, it's excruciating and horrible. Mostly. There's a bittersweet moment here and there, in the lives of people to whom Hesse was kind rather than cruel; and one particular set of lives strikes him rather hard:

A few lives are so unexpected they stun him. He lives through the life of a farm woman; it's only when she's newly widowed, and cautiously welcomes a Waffen-SS unit to billet at her house, that he realizes who she is. He starts crying when Inge stands at her window staring at the horizon, straining her eyes for any sign of troops, her hands on her belly. Tells her, in his head, he would have returned for her, if he'd known. He lives through the life of the daughter he never knew and his heart breaks that she never knows him.

--"Hesse In Heaven, Part One"

Hesse loved Inga, though she was never his to love. He loved Sophie and chose to spend his life with her, though it wasn't meant to be. He did have one other chance for a family and a life, though he never knew until it was too late. I don't believe he loved Inge the way he loved Sophie or especially Inga, but he would have returned to her if he'd known. He would have accepted his daughter, and her daughters, as his own. He would have perhaps lived a happy life and died content, finally having the family he always longed for so much.

Alas, that also wasn't meant to be. Hesse dies twice, and both times he dies violently, and alone.

[Inge 2024 [‎Friday, ‎May ‎17, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:10 AM]]

[yanderes-galore]

Can I ask for a scenario where Darling is an accomplice of Atlas (who's yandere for her) who teams up with Jack as to keep an eye on him? Darling is very annoyed that she has to work for Atlas while he keeps getting jealous of how nice she treats Jack. (Maybe use prompts 15 and 17 from the list made by inuzkua?)

Yeah, I can see what I can do!

Prompts Found Here

Yandere! Atlas Prompts 15 + 17

“You’ll come around sooner than you’ll think” 

“The silent treatment, huh?”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Threats, Forced relationship, Mentioned intimacy.

There was no winning in Rapture. You either bowed to one tyrant, or another trying to overthrow the current one. You had to do anything you could to survive.

In your case, it was serving as a spy for Atlas. Yes, Atlas, the resistance leader everyone was raving about in Rapture. You didn't much care for him... but the pay and protection from splicers was good.

Atlas even seemed to trust you enough to explain what his plan was.

Jack, this young man you were supposed to watch over, was Atlas's most important weapon to take Andrew Ryan down. For this cause you comply with your employer's orders. Atlas was the one you had connections with... not Ryan.

Atlas promised you that he would look out for you during your journey. You needed to be close with Jack, defend him, up until he can kill Ryan...

After that it doesn't matter what happens to him.

You were indifferent to Jack at the start. You had played the act of an ally. Someone who had his back and would fight for him.

It's funny how putting your life on the line for someone makes you enjoy their company. You had felt more connected with Jack on your journey than with anyone. Even if he was supposed to be a puppet for Atlas.

Speaking of which, Atlas didn't like how close Jack had become with you. When you first caught wind of it, he caught you off guard. Why does he care how close you are?

You and Atlas would meet up periodically to report the progress of his plan. It was whenever you had to split from Jack with a crafted lie. The man trusted you... you were thankful for it.

This was when Atlas revealed how he felt about you and his puppet.

"I'm holding up my end of the deal. I'm watching over him. Why does it matter if I grew to care for him a little?"

"If you're to be loyal to my cause, I can't have you betraying me, dear."

"Betrayal? Why do you question my loyalty?"

"Anything could happen down here. Getting close to some poor fool who could be disposed of so easily is a poor choice."

The reasons he gave you never made any sense. You could not figure out why Atlas didn't like uou being so close to Jack. Was he really scared you'd become a threat... or was it something else?

He had ended that meeting with one simple phrase before sending you off to meet Jack again.

"You're getting to be too nice with Jack, honey... we may have to find you a new job if you get too close."

Honey... dear... all terms of endearment. You never thought about it until way later but it was just disturbing to realize what he meant by being too nice with Jack. Atlas was jealous that his spy was with some other guy.

He was fine when you tolerated Jack. The moment you started showing more care towards Jack rather than him? That's when Atlas wished to pull the plug on your job.

You had learned of his alternative plans when he met with you again.

"I no longer need you to watch Jack. We got it covered from here."

"...What?"

"Your job is no longer needed. I congratulate you on your work. Kick back and relax, darling."

He grins at your shock and anger, cutting off your attempts to negotiate.

"What else am I supposed to do? I can't just abandon him-"

"You could stick around with me. I was thinking of having some company anyway. You managed to catch my eye with that demeanor of yours...."

It then clicks within you what he meant. He had revoked your job... to make you his newest fling. A new face to his cult following.... You grimace.

"You took me from Jack... to keep me to yourself."

"What a strong way of saying it... but yes. You nailed it right on the head, darling."

"What makes you think I'd agree?"

Atlas leans forward in his chair, steel blue eyes glinting in twisted adoration.

“You’ll come around sooner than you’ll think.” 

Atlas was known for his charming looks and charisma. That's why he was a leader. Many wanted to dedicate themselves to him, some even wish to sleep with him.

You refused to be treated like that.

With a huff you shake your head and turn away. How were you supposed to process this? Your boss was paying you to do spy work...

You weren't a prostitute.

“The silent treatment, huh?”

Atlas responds to your silence, standing up.

"Maybe it was a mistake to send you on spy work. You fall in love with your targets...."

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Well that's a relief, doll. I was worried for a moment."

"... that doesn't mean I'll sleep with you, either."

There's tension between you. Atlas looks at you blankly, crossing his arms. You refuse to look him in the eyes and feel your stomach coil from stress. How long has he felt like this?

"It's your choice in the end if you want to be beside me or not, darling. Just know..."

He steps in front of you, forcing you to look at him despite how you try to back away.

"If you leave then you'll have a target on your back. No more protection, those splicers are ravenous and feral."

His words and gaze haunt you. He then pulls away, stepping away from you.

"I just thought you'd like to know the weight of your situation..."

He gives you a smile of faux care.

"Don't want you making the wrong choice after all."

There was only one choice that guaranteed your survival, it pained you to know you'd have to pick it.

Yet in Rapture, you had to do anything you could to survive.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance. 

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day. 

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight." 

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little. 

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible. 

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills. 

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep. 

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty? 

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek. 

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position. 

"Your spine will thank me later," he said. 

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance. 

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?! 

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you! 

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with. 

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious. 

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel. 

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miracle Queen Aftermath

Because there is a disappointing lack of focus or depth for the aftermath of Miracle Queen in canon, I have made my own.

Be warned of: Chloe salt. A lot of it. Chloe faces consequences for things.

Some Bustier salt. Some Adrien being called out on things (but he gets better).

Enjoy!

In the weeks following the Miracle Queen incident, a lot had happened.

Hawk Moth had increased his power, and was now able to summon akumas and amoks at the same time.

Master Fu was gone and now Ladybug found herself the official Guardian of the Miraculous—along with the Miracle Box, kwamis, and duties that entails.

Marinette had resolved to let go of her crush on Adrien, and to support him and Kagami in their new relationship together.

And Chloe had been arrested and would now be going on trial for assisting a terrorist.

It was that last bit of news that had caused the most commotion in Paris and the world at large. What people would have dismissed as simply another akuma attack turned into a much greater matter when accusations started to be made about Chloe helping the super villain intentionally. This was soon backed by multiple eyewitness accounts and further proven by leaked video evidence showing Chloe not only attempting to grab a butterfly for herself after she was de-akumatized but even negotiating with the terrorist before the incident in which she betrayed the heroes of Paris and revealed the identities of most of the team.

To say that the people of Paris were outraged was putting it mildly. People were akumatized over it. Chloe was in a secured facility where she had armed guards around to watch her just as much as they were there to protect her. New legislation was being considered to specifically address willingly aiding supervillains. The backlash was so severe that many were calling the mayor’s own position into question.

After all, if his daughter could do all of that, who was to say that he wasn’t also in Hawk Moth’s pocket?

For Mayor Andre, his hands were tied. While he had covered for his daughter and her selfishness in the past, this was one thing he couldn’t overlook. Not when it brought his position as mayor under scrutiny. And certainly not when it opened a probe into his own dealings.

None of this was helped either by the multitude of witnesses of Chloe‘s past behavior. In particular, her many victims over the years.

And there were a lot.

Now that Chloe was actually being held accountable for something, it seemed to have opened a floodgate of outcries as the many people she tormented finally felt able to air their grievances. They came out on TV, on social media, on radio. Stories littered the air and internet of the horrors of dealing with this single teenage girl.

“She tried to cheat during this designing competition. She apparently stole some other girl’s hat design and tried to pass it off as her own.”

“She was the reason the mayor tried to shut down my ice skating rink! To build another gym! Paris has enough gyms! Why couldn’t she just go to one of those?”

“She had her dad shut down Clara Nightingale’s music video and got her akumatized just because she didn’t get to play Ladybug. We waited in that line for HOURS and didn’t get chosen either, but no one else threw a fit over it.”

“She shoved a giant signed poster of Adrien Agreste professing his love to her in my friend’s face just to make her cry! I found out after the fact that he didn’t even know about it!”

“Our entire school was punished for someone pulling the fire alarm except for her because she threatened our principal. So while the rest of us were having to clean up the school, she spent the entire time insulting and making fun of us.“

“Knowing her, she probably pulled the fire alarm in the first place.”

“She tried to crash a train! I don’t think I can emphasize that enough: she tried to crash a train!“

“Chloe Bourgeois joined up with Hawk Moth? Can’t say it’s a shock.”

“Yeah, given how many akumas she caused, I’d been wondering if she hadn’t been working with him all along.”

It wasn’t that unbelievable to the populous. Nor did anyone feel particularly sympathetic towards her for her current situation. Some might have for lack of knowing her, but Chloe had carved herself a special place in the memories and hearts of nearly every Parisian. There was nobody who didn’t know of her or have some experience with her by this point. So when it came out that she was arrested and facing criminal charges, the response was…rather telling.

Practically everyone was calling loved ones as soon as they heard, resulting in high phone and internet traffic. The Ladyblog crashed after making the announcement. Several people threw parties. People over the internet started coming up with a list of “Things We Will Be Allowed To Do Once Chloe Is In Prison”, with a count that currently rested at 139 and was rising quickly. One guy bought 500 cupcakes and just started passing them out to people on the street singing a jaunty little tune from some late 1930’s cult classic American movie. The school had closed down for a couple of days due to several teachers calling out sick—possibly with hangovers from celebrating a bit too hard. Various Queen-related hashtags and memes were trending with each seeming to fight for the top spot of most used. #let her eat cake was currently in the lead. And Mr. Ramier somehow orchestrated a 21 pigeon salute. On Chloe’s rooftop.

As it was, nobody expressed surprise when it came out that she worked with a supervillain. Many were disappointed, shaking their heads and saying “if only something had been done sooner” or blaming the parents and teachers and other adults in her life. Most were angry, mainly that things had been allowed to get this far and that they hadn’t been acted on earlier—particularly after the train incident.

But no. Nobody was surprised.

Except, perhaps, Marinette herself.

Still reeling from the events of Miracle Queen and the aftermath of…well…everything involved, Marinette had been questioning herself. Constantly. Incessantly. Going over and over in her mind all the things she could have done differently. Blaming herself for all the major blows to their team.

She lost her mentor. Her allies have been compromised. Chloe, one of her former allies, chose to betray them all. Hawk Moth had the grimoire now. Marinette didn’t have a grimoire. Fu had no memories.

And it was all because of her mistakes.

Last time, the prospect of never having to deal with Chloe again had been a relief.

Now…it was background static to her.

She could barely hear the announcements and cheers over the endless cycle of her own thoughts.

I should have tried harder. I should have been more aware. I failed them all. This is because of me.

So while everyone else in Paris was celebrating, de-stressing, or just outright reveling in the news, Marinette was grieving. With the help of the kwamis and Chat Noir, she had been trying to come to terms with what happened and figure out the next plan of action.

Hawk Moth had changed the game, so she needed to step up hers.

The days seemed to have passed in a blur. Between working with the kwamis, trying to recreate and retranslate the grimoire, and simply trying to deal with the remnants of Fu’s life that he had left to her, Marinette had barely even kept up with the current state of things in Paris. Or in particular, Chloe.

Not until the day came when Bustier made an announcement.

Chloe‘s trial date was finally decided. And though she didn’t say as such, it was clear that the case against her was pretty solid. There was video evidence. Eye witness accounts. And Chloe’s own words and actions working against her.

The odds were not in her favor on this. Even if her parents did try to help her, she wasn’t going to get off this time. Aside from getting the best lawyers money by, there really wasn’t much they could do.

Maybe that was why Bustier had tried to step in?

“Now class, I have received word that they are moving to the next step with Chloe’s hearing. Right now, they are looking for character witnesses for Chloe’s defense.” The kind teacher explained, causing Marinette to snap to awareness and realize just what was going on. Partly because of the mention of Chloe and her court case.

But mostly because of the sudden dead silence in the class…

To be fair, she wasn’t sure she could say anything either. Marinette felt her throat go dry and her muscles tense. There was a sudden tightness in her lungs that while she could breathe, it felt like she was suffocating. Why was Bustier bringing this up now?

The teacher smiled, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension and Marinette’s slow drowning. “I know this has been a difficult experience knowing that one of your classmates is facing such a trial. And Chloe will certainly need support. So I thought it would be kind if everyone wrote a letter supporting her for the hearing coming up, so the courts can hear about Chloe and understand more about who she is.”

Silence. Dead silence.

Maybe Bustier herself picked up on the growing tension, as she proceeded to move to passing out papers to the class. “I thought it would make for a nice project, so I will give you all the forms explaining the requirements. Take some time to think over what positive things you want to say about Chloe. If you have any questions, please feel free to come talk to me.”

After that, she quickly left the room, citing the desire to let them have this free time to work on the letters.

The class remained silent for a good minute after she left. Almost as if they were questioning if she would return. Or perhaps if she was listening.

Then—

“‘Think about what positive things we want to say about Chloe?’ Well that’s easy!” Alix spoke blithely, curling the paper she received into a ball. “Nothing!” She shouted and tossed it over her shoulder. “Assignment done!”

Murmurs filled the classroom. Some sounded uncertain, but most seemed to be in agreement. Or at least expressing distaste for the assignment.

“Is she serious?”

“Does she really expect us to?”

“Of all the worst ideas...”

Marinette could hear them, but couldn’t seem to acknowledge anything around her. And furthermore, she couldn’t make herself respond.

Chloe‘s trial was set for a point in the next few weeks, and at this point there was no denying just what type of person she was. If anything, this was probably the first time that anyone was allowed to actually speak their mind about the girl, and they were all reveling in it. Her classmates in particular.

Marinette couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Sure, Chloe has tried to blackmail her more than once.

And damaged her gift to their teacher.

And attempted to frame her a few times.

And stolen her hat design.

And her diary.

And a Miraculous.

And all of the other Miraculous.

But...she had been doing better for a while there, hadn’t she?

Didn’t she only betray them all in the end because Marinette had chosen Kagami over her for her own selfish reasons? Didn’t Hawk Moth only capture Fu because of her own mistake? Hadn’t Chloe only revealed everyone else because she felt betrayed? Couldn’t Marinette have done more to prevent Chloe turning?

Wasn’t a simple letter on Chloe’s virtues the least she could do?

So why...

Why couldn’t she seem to bring herself to?

Kim frowned, looking at his paper in worry. “We’re not going to get graded on this, are we?”

Nathaniel huffed. “I’ll willingly take the failing grade any day.”

“Hear hear!”

“But if it’s a grade…” Max murmured to himself. Out of everyone in the class, he took his grades the most seriously, so this was no doubt a difficult choice for him. He looked at his paper with a rather conflicted expression for a minute before sighing and turning it face-down on the desk. “No. It’s an impossible task in the first place.”

Kim rested a hand on Max’s shoulder in sympathy. It wasn’t that he cared as much about grades as Max did, but it was clear that the fallout of refusing could be more troubling for the genius who took his academic performance so seriously. If Bustier did make it a mandatory assignment with a grade, it’d be horribly unfair of her.

“What was it Chloe said before?” Ivan asked, looking over his page with a glare. “Once a monster, always a monster? I guess she’d know more than anyone.”

Mylene hugged him. “You’re not a monster. You never chose to be.”

“None of us did.” Nino agreed.

“Nobody did except her.” Alix bit out.

Mumbles of agreement came from the rest of the class. It was clear that none of them were on board with having anything to do with Chloe, much less try to help her with her current legal woes.

There was a large part of Marinette that agreed with them. But even so, there was also a large part of her that insisted she had to do the right thing and help.

She knew she should say something. She was supposed to say something here. Because it was her fault, after all. She was Ladybug. She had to be the better person. Shouldn’t she?

“Marinette? Girl, are you okay?” Alya asked, drawing her attention. “You look a bit pale.”

It was too much. It was suffocating.

“I think I need some air. Excuse me.”

She didn’t know if anyone watched her leave the classroom. She hadn’t even noticed if anyone had chosen to follow her.

Not until…

“Marinette, are you all right?”

She spun around in surprise.

“Oh! Adrien! Hey! Hi! Hello!” She blabbered. Why was he here? Did he come out after her? Why? She didn’t need this right now! She struggled enough with him under normal circumstances, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him now. Her stress over everything was bad enough, but having him approach her set her anxiety skyrocketing.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at her—and oh, what a beautiful smile. On any other day, it would ease her worries and make her want to swoon, but right now, it just made her more nervous.

“Are you all right?” He asked again. “You didn’t look so well in class.”

“Y-yeah. Just…” she sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind. With…you know…everything.”

He nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean.”

She smiled. She could always count on Adrien to be a calming supportive friend. He was always so sweet and reliable. If anyone could understand or relate to the chaotic mix of emotions she was feeling, he could.

He sighed in sympathy. “Poor Chloe.”

She froze.

“Chloe?”

“Well, yeah.” He replied, like it was obvious. “I mean, she did a bad thing, but now she’s going through the worst experience of her life. One that could ruin her future. And people are glad about it!” He shook his head. “It’s just too cruel.”

Marinette just stared.

He wasn’t wrong. But…that was what he was worried about?

She couldn’t fault him of course, because Adrien was always so kind and considerate and of course he’d feel for Chloe but…something about this just…pulled at something inside of her and was choking it.

“Chloe is already suffering enough and it feels like no one wants to help her. You heard them.” He gestured back to the classroom. “We’re being given an opportunity to make a difference for her and they’re all just saying she deserves it. Chloe is alone and hurting and they want her to hurt more.”

She felt a denial on her lips but couldn’t give voice to it.

“Everyone is so great with each other. It’s always just Chloe who is kind of on the outside. I know you’ve seen it.”

She hadn’t, actually. Because it was never Chloe on the outside looking in, it was Chloe looking down on them. Whether it was because she genuinely thought she was better or because it made her feel better to do so.

He hesitated for a moment before looking at her. And there was something in his expression that told her he was about to ask something. A gut feeling told her that it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.

“Do you think you could talk to them?” He asked her, looking so sad and despondent that she just wanted to hug him and agree to anything to make that look go away.

“M-me?”

He wanted her to convince her classmates to help Chloe?

“I know you and Chloe have had your differences, but you’ve been able to see past her front. And you’ve done a lot to help her before.” He smiled. “Like the party you threw for her after she became Queen Bee.”

A traitorous voice asked if giving her a second chance with the Miraculous she had previously stolen wasn’t enough? Why did she have to feel bad for her leaving and throw her a party to make her feel special?

“Chloe really needs the help right now. And you’re always so good about that sort of thing.” He looked to her imploringly. “Do you think you could try to get them to at least give Chloe a hand? I don’t know what impact it’ll have in her hearing, but any little bit helps, right?”

Go back in there? With the tension and the suffocation to try and convince her classmates to help when she was questioning whether to herself?

But she had to, right? After all, couldn’t she have prevented this if she had acted sooner? Couldn’t she have helped sooner instead of being focused on her own petty problems? Isn’t that what Ladybug should do?

“Please, Marinette? They listen to you. If you asked them to, I’m sure they’d be willing to at least try.”

Her vision started to dim, seeming to tunnel in on Adrien and his sad and hopeful expression. Her thoughts crying about CHLOE and poor CHLOE and how hurt CHLOE was and how it was her fault for CHLOE—

“I—”

“Oh no! No, you do NOT.”

Marinette suddenly found herself torn away from Adrien by a sudden grab of her arm and pulling sensation. She felt as if she was pushed out of the way by a fierce gale. Like a raging whirlwind had spun her around and behind it.

That whirlwind’s name was Alya.

“How dare you? How dare you try to make my girl be responsible for this!”

Marinette floundered because she had not expected this and oh no now her best friend looked ready to tear her crush’s head off!

“Alya, we don’t have to do this!” She pleaded, trying to calm the other girl down.

“Oh, we most certainly do.” Came another voice. And sure enough, the rest of the class had stepped out as well. All of them looked in varying ranges of frustrated and that frustration was clearly directed at her and Adrien.

Or rather just Adrien, as Marinette discovered when Rose and Juleka pulled her aside and out of their direct line of sight. They were all looking at Adrien, and those were not nice or understanding expressions.

Oh no! This was a disaster! Now everyone was upset and she should have just agreed or said something sooner!

Completely unaware of Marinette’s inner turmoil, Alya stepped forward and jabbed at Adrien in the chest. “You are not going to make my girl feel bad and try to help someone who has never done a single nice thing for her or anyone.” She spat out, forcing him to back away.

Adrien held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Come on, Chloe is not that bad.“

“Not that bad?” Nino exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s words. “Adrien, Chloe betrayed us!“

“She took over Paris!”

“She turned us into her servants!“

“Not to mention the other things…”

“Do we really have to name each time?” Alya started to count on her fingers. “Chloe CHOSE to take the Miraculous for herself instead of returning it. She CHOSE to transform in front of everyone and reveal her identity to the world. She CHOSE to try and crash a train, risking the lives of EVERYONE on board just to show off. She CHOSE to run off with it when Ladybug tried to take it back.”

“She also chose to continue being horrible to everyone even after Ladybug gave her a second chance.” Nathaniel added, bitterly. “She didn’t get better after becoming Queen Bee. It just became another thing for her to lord over people.”

Alya nodded. “And when Ladybug made it clear to her that she wasn’t going to be Queen Bee again, she felt ENTITLED to something that was never hers in the first place. And because of that, she made the active, knowing, and willful choice to work with Hawk Moth.”

“And out all of us while she was at it.” Kim added. “Turning us into her personal ‘guard’. Making us fight our heroes against our will.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if you were hit by those things, Adrien, but it was NOT a pleasant experience having your body turned into a puppet.”

Adrien wanted to argue that he understood full well, but that was only as Chat. He couldn’t say that here.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Alya continued. “So no, we are not going to forgive Chloe. We are not going to try and ‘get along’ with her because her own poor choices have led her to have a ‘rough time’.”

Adrien grew nervous at the way the others drew closer to Alya as she spoke, clearly backing her statements as she continued.

“We are not going to defend her or speak up on her behalf to the entirety of Paris she ALSO betrayed. Whatever consequences Chloe has to face—quite possibly the first ones she will EVER have faced in her LIFE—are nothing less than what she deserves.”

“Yeah!” Came the exclamations from the rest of the crowd.

“She didn’t know what she was doing!” Adrien argued.

“Not know what she was doing?! Adrien, she willingly accepted an akuma! She used it to take control of us and revealed us to Hawk Moth!” Alya exclaimed. “That’s just—how can you even justify that?”

With as angry as Alya was, any lesser or wiser man would have backed off.

Adrien…well, she certainly would never call him unwise, so it had to be because he was more strong-willed than that to be willing to stand his ground here.

“Hawk Moth was the one who manipulated Chloe!” He insisted. “And he’s the one who got away scott free and left Chloe to take the fall.”

“And whose fault was that?” Alya countered. “Chloe HELPED him. He only got as far as he did because of her and he only got away because she helped him!”

“Don’t you think this is cruel?” He argued back. “Yes, Chloe was wrong, but she was already called out for what she did by Ladybug and Chat Noir. The entire city hates her. Isn’t that enough?”

“NO!” Alya shouted. “No, it isn’t! Because Chloe has always gotten away with her antics in the past but you’re actually trying to get us to let Chloe off for a legitimate crime here! If Chloe is going to prison, it’s only because she deserves it!”

Around them, several of the others in the class nodded in agreement.

“How can you say that?” Adrien demanded. “Chloe made a mistake and she’s suffering for it! All this time, she’s felt left out and cut off and this only further emphasizes that for her! She’s been alone all this time and now she’s alone and miserable!”

“Then why should that be OUR problem?” Alya questioned, raising her hands in exasperation. “Why are you trying to MAKE it our problem?!”

Adrien drew back, looking genuinely hurt.

"But treating someone badly never made them become a good person."

"Yeah, because letting Chloe have her way all this time has totally made strides in her path to becoming a good person." Alix called out sarcastically.

"If anything, it's made her worse." Max added. "She's gone from simply causing akumas to intentionally becoming one."

“But—”

Alya cut him off. “But nothing, Adrien! You have to have some gall to be trying to get us to make nice with Chloe after she betrayed us all! And here I thought your little lecture to Marinette to make her feel bad for being relieved that Chloe was leaving Paris was pretty hard to beat.”

Nino blanched at that. “You did what?” He turned on Adrien. “Dude! You know that happened after Chloe tried to crash that train!”

“She was just trying to prove herself.” Adrien weakly argued.

“PEOPLE were on there!” Nino bit out. “They could have DIED because Chloe was showing off! And you got on to MARINETTE? Where was this attitude with Chloe?”

“I’ve called her out!”

“Yeah, one time.” Alya groused. “AFTER the rest of us had spent the better part of the day cleaning up after HER mess. Which she never apologized for or admitted to doing, by the way.”

“And in response, she threw a party.” Juleka muttered.

“It was a nice party, sure.” Rose added quickly.

Alya though shook her head. “But being a good hostess is nowhere near the same thing as being a good person. And before the night was over, you rolled over for her and she went RIGHT back to acting as she always had.”

“She made Mylene cry.” Ivan glared. “She made Mylene cry and you just laughed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You said it yourself: ‘she’ll never change’. Except you said that like it was a good thing.”

Marinette looked back and forth between the two, everything inside her screaming at her to help. But she was completely lost on which one she was supposed to help. Because Adrien had a point about what Chloe’s going through but Alya was right about what Chloe did and she needed to do the “right thing” and help Chloe but why did everything Alya say resonate so strongly with her and bring such a feeling of vindication—

No. She was getting distracted. She needed to help. And right now, it was Adrien against the rest of the class.

But Alya was worked up. And Adrien was looking past her to Marinette, eyes begging for help and still so hopeful that she would step in. And Chloe was still in prison and Marinette could fix everything if she just tried so why can’t she try?

“Alya,” Marinette tried. “You told me to give Chloe a chance before after the fire alarm incident, remember? You said we were a lot alike.”

“That was to get you to go to a party!” Alya shouted, making Marinette step back in surprise. “I never meant it like this!”

She stepped forward and took Marinette by the shoulders, holding her sternly.

“Marinette, you are nothing like Chloe! Not where it counts! Yeah, you both can be short sighted when it comes to trying for what you want, but you at least notice and CARE how other people feel! And when you make a mistake, you at least TRY to make it right!”

She shook her head.

“Chloe…doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t try to.” Alix cut in. “If Chloe was feeling sad and lonely, that was pretty much her own fault.”

Adrien looked like he wanted to argue, but Alix didn’t even give him a chance.

“It wasn’t like we left her out. We went well out of our way to try and befriend her. We invited her to things. We tried to help her. Hell, you said it yourself—Marinette has tried to help her more than anybody! And each and every time, Chloe only took what we offered like it was something we owed her but that she was also too good for. I mean, I certainly can’t recall a time she ever thanked me. Can you?” She asked, turning to the other classmates.

All around them, there were murmurs of agreement. Maybe a couple hesitated as they tried to recall a time—one single moment of kindness on Chloe’s part only to come up empty.

“Chloe’s had a hard time.” Adrien insisted. “You know how her parents are—”

“Oh yes, her ‘Daddy the Mayor’.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t hear enough about him every time it comes to something Chloe wants. She only threatens us or anyone with him every other day.”

Adrien shook his head and tried to explain. “It’s only because her parents aren’t there for her emotionally.”

“Again, not seeing how this is our problem? Or justification for anything she’s done to us? Or how this excuses her willingly helping a supervillain?”

“Because we’re her classmates!” He argued back, gesturing to all of them. “Out of everyone, we’ve all had the most interactions with her.”

“All of which were negative.” Came a cutting remark, followed by grumbling.

“There were good times, too!” Adrien insisted with a frown. His eyes spanned over the assembled classmates before they came to rest on one in particular. “Kim, you have to have seen Chloe’s good side. You liked her before.”

“Before.” Kim replied, emphasizing the word and the timeframe it referred to. “But being humiliated and her sending out that pic to everyone in school kind of crushed that crush.”

“How did she even have our numbers?” Ivan asked.

“But there had to be something that made you like her in the first place.” Adrien encouraged.

The taller boy shrugged, uncertain and uncaring. “Maybe so, but was it something that was really there? Or something I just wanted to see? Because I’m looking back and quite frankly, I don’t know what past me was thinking.”

“Wow, that’s deep, man.” Nathaniel whispered.

“Thanks!”

Seeing Nathaniel gave Adrien an idea. “Wait, Nathaniel! Didn’t Chloe let you put her in your comic?”

“Forced us to, more like.” The artist bit back. “And even when we tried to fit her, we got nothing but complaints from her. It was no wonder we never got past the initial concept art for her character.”

Adrien winced. “It was an attempt, at least?”

Nathaniel wasn’t buying it. “A poor one.”

“She’s been trying to be better.” Adrien was getting increasingly frustrated. This was not how he was expecting this argument to go. “Rose? What about you? You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

After all, Rose was sweet and caring, always willing to see the good in anyone. Surely she would have something nice about Chloe!

Juleka frowned at him over his focus on her girlfriend and moved to stand beside her. “Don’t push her.”

Still he tried.

“Rose?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Rose said, hugging herself. “But Chloe has done nothing but hurt people. And going out of our way to protect her has only ended up biting us.”

That wasn’t true. Not...all the time at least. There had to have been at least one instance where she did the right thing!

Adrien brightened in realization. “Didn’t she catch you when you fell after being deakumatized during Heroes Day?”

The blonde girl frowned. “Well, yes…but she wasn’t very nice about it. Even though I did the same for her before.”

“Rose, come on…”

She shook her head. “I put myself at risk to help Chloe when she was being chased by zombies, and only got turned into one for my efforts. Chloe never appreciated it. She never thanked me. She didn’t even do anything to help when we were trying to keep her safe!”

“We all ended up kissing zombies because of her.” Alix accused, crossing her arms and looking particularly annoyed. “And not just because she caused the akuma in the first place.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Mylene asked. “We’ve been asked. We said no. Isn’t that enough?”

“But—”

“Adrien, you’ve got a good heart.” Ivan started.

“Easy for him when he’s not the one who has to be on the receiving end of Chloe’s tantrums.” Alix cut in, clearly sounding bitter.

“You’ve got a good heart.” Ivan repeated, sending Alix a look that asked her to back off. “But Chloe…doesn’t.”

Adrien shook his head, remaining insistent. “That’s why she needs help.”

“If she needs help,” Mylene spoke, “It should come from her parents. Her teachers. Any of the adults in her life. She has plenty of adults who are fully capable of helping her. It should not be expected to come from the kids she’s spent years tormenting.”

She gestured to herself and the others around her. “And that’s what she’s been doing: tormenting us.”

“To great joy, might I add.” Max droned.

“She hasn’t been cruel to everyone.” Adrien muttered.

That brought out a backlash of outrage.

“She outted my crush!”

“She insulted Mylene’s cooking and made her cry!”

“She got Aurore akumatized and nearly caused Paris to be incinerated in a volcano!”

“She tried to push Mylene out of the lead role of our movie!”

“She locked Juleka in the restroom!”

Wait...

But that hadn’t been Chloe. She had stayed with the class at the time. The one who did do it was...

He glanced around until he saw her—a redhead in the background behind the rest of the class. She looked anxious and uncomfortable, and almost seemed to be trying to edge around the class to get to the stairs.

Adrien did seem aware. Or rather, he was focused on the fact she was there.

“Sabrina? What about you? Chloe was your friend!”

Of course she would help! Because who better than her own best friend to speak on her behalf?

The rest of the class broke into mutters as they realized the same.

But Sabrina...bit her lip and looked away. Refusing to even meet Adrien’s gaze.

“Sabrina?” Marinette tried, concerned about this reaction. Sabrina had been Chloe’s best friend—or at least the closest thing she could have to a friend. “Minion” or “Servant” would be more accurate. “Slave” would be more honest.

The girl had been Chloe’s only real fan and follower, and had assisted Chloe in some of her worst plots.

Marinette had briefly seen another side to her. A girl who was so desperate for friendship that she latched onto even the slightest bit of kindness and went to the greatest of extremes to appease the “friend” so they wouldn’t leave her. It was no wonder she had fallen in with Chloe—someone like that was perfect for the spoiled girl. Compared to her, Marinette’s anxieties and need to please were nothing.

And Chloe had pretty much been her world for years.

What must she be feeling now?

“Should we really be getting her opinion?” Ivan whispered. “You know how she and Chloe were…”

“Well, if anyone would have anything positive to tell the courts about Chloe, it would be her.” Mylene whispered back.

Sabrina took a breath and spoke quickly—almost shouting in her rush.

“I’m sorry but my therapist said I shouldn’t!”

That got a surprise. The rest of the classmates glanced to each other before looking back to the girl. Adrien in particular looked shell-shocked. Marinette couldn’t blame him. She felt the same.

Sabrina for her part seemed to tense up, as if ready to defend herself from the rest of the class.

Marinette stepped forward. “Sabrina? Are…you okay?”

The other girl shook her head, looking close to tears.

“After word got out what Chloe did, the police had to question me about Chloe. They were able to see that I wasn’t involved, but they…didn’t like what I told them about our relationship. Afterwards, my dad decided to have me see a counselor and she…has been telling me things that I hadn’t really considered.” She curled in on herself. “They all think I should stay away from Chloe and anything directly related to her…for my own health.”

Adrien frowned at that. “But don’t you want to help Chloe?”

Sabrina jumped. “Of course, I do!”

“Hold up, Adrien!” Nino stepped in. “She just said police took her in because of Chloe!”

“But they let her go…”

“It still happened!” Mylene argued. “It doesn’t matter how nice they are, how innocent you know you are, or if you’re released in the end, it’s still terrifying when it happens!”

"And it only happened to her because of Chloe." Alya added.

Rose, in her infinite sweetness, reached out to take Sabrina’s hand in support. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Sabrina sobbed and covered her face. Aside from Rose, no one else really attempted to comfort her. Most of them simply watched her, pitying her current state. But they also remembered how complicit she had been in Chloe’s schemes, so they were conflicted. While they did feel bad for her current situation, there was a part of most of them that noted how she had brought it upon herself by being Chloe‘s lackey for so long, so their sympathy was limited.

Perhaps it was out of awkwardness, or maybe an attempt to give some respect for Sabrina’s privacy that the classmates turned away from her and instead focused on the heart of the argument.

“Man...” Nino tried. “Maybe you should let it go?” Though it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t likely.

Because Adrien had still not given up, it seemed.

He looked around between of the classmates, growing more desperate. But those that remained either looked at him straight on as if daring him to call on them or looked away. A few of them even closed ranks as if to block his view of certain others. It was clear none of them were willing to help him on this.

None of them except…

“Marinette.” He called out, drawing her gaze to him instantly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She bit her lip. “I…”

“Back off, Adrien.” Kim said, giving the other boy an angry frown as he stood in front of her to shield her from his gaze. “It’s not on Marinette to help Chloe.”

“Yeah! She suffered more than any of us!“ Ivan shouted.

“She has been Chloe’s main target for years.” Nathaniel agreed. “She is the last person who is obligated to help Chloe now.“

Adrien winced at the harshness of their words and in their tone. “I just thought that Marinette could help. Like before.”

“Just because she could doesn’t mean she should have had to.” Alya countered. “She’s a teenager. Dealing with Chloe should have been the job of adults. Her parents. Bustier. Damocles. Any one of them should have done something—and if they can’t, the courts will. It’s their job. Not ours.”

“And getting her to help you wouldn’t make a difference anyway even if you had convinced us.” Max said, shifting his glasses. “Chloe helped Hawk Moth. There is nothing we could say that could undo that. And even if we did try, we would either be guilty of committing perjury or aiding in a conspiracy.”

“What?” Adrien jerked in surprise.

“The best we can do is be character witnesses.” Mylene explained. “But this is a court and we can’t claim something that isn’t true! We can’t say anything nice about Chloe when she hasn’t done anything nice!”

Max nodded and shifted his glasses. “Furthermore, our testimonies—even if they were positive—would only serve to create a narrative about Chloe and the type of person she is. They can’t explain away the current evidence against her.”

He rubbed the back of his head. He knew there were issues, but he also knew Chloe. He knew what she could be like. He knew she was a good person deep down. “I know she’s made some mistakes—”

“No.” Alya stated sharply. “Calling them ‘Mistakes’ implies that her actions were unintentional. ‘Mistakes’ implies that people were harmed by accident. ‘Mistakes’ implies that she would have any point learned from them. They weren’t mistakes, Adrien. They were willful acts of cruelty every single time.”

Ivan shook his head, pityingly. “We can’t save Chloe from this. We have nothing to say in her defense. The kindest thing we can do for her is stay silent.”

“She’s better than you think she is. She threw that party once for everyone, remember? You all went.” Adrien reminded them.

“That only proved that she could throw a party and be a good host, not that she could be a good person. There is a difference.” Nathaniel pointed out.

“Not that Chloe could tell.“ Alix sniped.

Adrien ignored the barb. He had given up on getting any of them to listen and now only had eyes for her. His last hope.

“Marinette….come on…please.”

She hesitated.

Everything in her that was Ladybug and her crush on Adrien and her desire to make people happy and take the high road and give second-third-fourth chances wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

Except...

There was a long pause. No one spoke.

The other classmates have had their say. They were letting Marinette have hers. And she knew in that moment that if she spoke up…if she did as Adrien wished and tried to help Chloe…she knew they would go along with her. It may be more out of respect for Marinette than it would be out of any sort of forgiveness for anything Chloe had done, but it would still help Chloe and it would still make Adrien happy.

…and hadn’t Marinette already done that enough?

“Did you know?” Marinette started, not looking at anyone. “I would have been well within my rights to press charges against Chloe?”

Adrien balked at that.

“She’s stolen from me at least three times now.” She shrugged. “I mean, sure, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about my diary since she had Sabrina steal it for her, but she did steal my hat design for a competition and I had proof. I could have pressed charges against Chloe and let her face some consequences…but I didn’t.”

She looked up at Adrien. “I also could have pressed charges for what she did to my gift for Madame Bustier. Since she did break into my locker and vandalize my property while it was still technically mine…but I didn’t.

“Adrien.” She spoke almost in monotone, the only sign of her emotions being how she clenched her fists. “Did you know that after the fashion show, my parents and I took a train to get home?”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

“It was the same train Chloe took control of and nearly caused to crash.”

Several gasps resounded around them. Apparently this had not been common knowledge.

“Even if Chloe could have bought her way out of any consequence for the other things, we all could certainly have had her face some major trouble for that one…” Marinette took a shuddering breath. “But we didn’t.”

Adrien frowned. “I…I see that—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cut him off. “Because instead of any of that…rather than hold Chloe accountable at any point, I catered to her. I tried to understand Chloe. I tried to make things nicer for Chloe. I tried to excuse Chloe. Time and again. Just like everyone else. Just like you wanted me to. Just like you’re asking me to now. And what did that get us?”

The more she talked, the more words filled out and she was unable to stop the torrent.

“I defended her from Alya after Madame Bustier was akumatized, and Chloe stole a Miraculous and nearly got my family killed. I helped Chloe bond with her Mom—costing myself any chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity in the process—and Chloe tried to get me banished from Paris just for saying she wasn’t a superhero. I threw Chloe a party to show her some appreciation, and she willingly worked with a supervillain to take over Paris. Just to fuel her ego and because she felt she was owed something that wasn’t hers.”

She tilted her head, considering.

“What is that American saying? Three strikes and you’re out?” Her eyes narrowed. “I have given Chloe more than three chances. I have done nothing BUT give her chances. And clean up after her. And just…try to help her. At no point has she been grateful. At no point did she ever apologize. Or show the slightest bit of remorse for anyone she hurt. Or just…try to do better.”

She stepped forward. Past her classmates. Past Alya, who looked ready to tear into Adrien herself.

“So tell me, Adrien. How much more am I supposed to do? What miracle am I supposed to achieve to help Chloe to be a better person that I haven’t already done?”

“You can just try.” Adrien begged. “Chloe’s alone. She has no one in her corner. You’ve given her chances before! Can’t you find it in your heart to give her another chance this time?”

“Why haven’t you?” Alya demanded.

Adrien drew back in surprise at that.

But the girl wasn’t letting him off. “If you’re so certain Chloe is the victim in all this, then why aren’t you stepping up to help her? Why are you pushing Marinette and the rest of us to do it?”

Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette in support. “If you truly believe Chloe has some sort of inner goodness that only needs the right person to bring it out, then it’s pretty clear Marinette is just not that person. She’s tried enough.”

Alix nodded. “I’m pretty sure she could’ve demolished a brick wall with how many time she’s banged her head against it by this point trying to drag a decent person out of Chloe.”

Others in the class also nodded and gave sounds of agreement to that.

Adrien frowned, lowering his head despondently. “I’m just one person. There’s only so much weight my word will have. I just...I just want to give her the best chance.”

“That’s nice for Chloe, I guess.” Kim muttered. “But not much for us.”

Adrien looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Alya stepped forward, releasing Marinette in the process. “Adrien, why should we as Chloe’s victims have to help protect her? That’s the thing we’re not getting here. WE are the ones she hurt. WE are the ones she betrayed to Hawk Moth. So why are WE supposed to try and save her from her own consequences? Why are you wanting us to?”

Adrien hesitated.

“Can you even imagine what it was like? Being frozen in time. Unable to move or speak? Only able to hear her voice in your head? Feeling your body respond as she’s calling you and being unable to stop?” She clutched her arms, as if trying to hug herself. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was knowing what she was doing to us but being completely unable to stop it? How humiliating it was when she had us bowing to her and calling her our Queen? And then…” She took a breath. “She made us fight our heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir trusted us to help them and we used the Miraculous they entrusted to us to try and kill them.”

“We were just lucky that they were able to turn the tables on us.” Kim muttered. “I don’t even want to know what would have happened if we had won.”

“Luka still has nightmares.” Juleka whispered. “He won’t talk about it, but he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

Marinette winced. She hadn’t even considered that everyone else could be suffering ramifications of Miracle Queen as well.

“We could have killed them.” Max stated. “Given the nature of the Snake Miraculous’s power, we very well could have more than once for all we know.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have killed them?” Rose suggested, trying to be positive. “I mean, Chloe wanted all of the Miraculous, right? She probably wanted them as her servants as well.”

Max glared. “I’m pretty sure I attempted to send Chat Noir into space. Even a Miraculous can’t protect someone from that.”

Adrien tried not to wince at the memory. How he managed to even move enough to activate the Miraculous, he still wasn’t sure.

“We fought against them. We never wanted to, but we did.” Alya bit out. “Not even because of Hawk Moth this time, but because of Chloe. And now you are wanting us to just…overlook the trauma of the whole thing to help Chloe after what she did. For something she hasn’t shown even the slightest remorse for.”

She shook her head.

“I know you’re nice, Adrien. But this level of kindness is a cruelty.”

He winced. And it looked like he wanted to argue. But he just…wilted.

“I just…it feels harsh. What’s happening to her. The amount of hate she’s getting. That her entire life could be over.”

That was true. While they felt her current status was well deserved, it was a harsh sentence for anyone. Especially a teenager.

Nathaniel sighed. “Adrien, it is harsh. Maybe cruel. But fact is that she still brought on herself.”

“Isn’t that just victim-blaming though?” Adrien countered, frustrated now. “I mean, Hawk Moth manipulated her! How was that her fault? He’s the one who did it. She was…” He clenched his fists in anger. “Chloe is a victim.”

“No, we are the victims.” Alya insisted, gesturing to herself and the other revealed former heroes. “We were the ones used to fight our heroes. We were the ones who had our identities revealed to the world against our will. And now we are the ones having to live with the results of Chloe‘s choices, just like we always are.“

Adrien looked ready to argue. And maybe he would have, except...

Nino rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Adrien. Dude. Just stop. We have enough to deal with and this…this isn’t helping.”

Adrien frowned at that, concerned by his friend’s attitude. “Nino?”

Nino lowered his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Really, I was trying not to think about it. But my parents are currently talking with police about their options. Now that I’ve been exposed as one of the temporary heroes, they’re questioning if it’s not safe for us at home anymore. There is a chance of us having to go into protective custody.”

Alya winced at that, drawing attention to her. “My parents have been talking as well. My mom quit her job. She said she doesn’t want to work for someone who would let their daughter do such a thing and put me in danger. She’s looking at drawing me out of school since it was pretty much Chloe‘s base of operations. And since Chloe is the Mayor’s daughter…and Hawk Moth…and just…everything?” She looked away, clearly anxious.

“There’s a chance we may have to move out of Paris altogether.”

Marinette gasped.

Alya looked to the other girl, sad and guilty all in one. “I’m sorry, girl. I guess I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve been trying to talk them out of it, but it’s hard given everything that happened. Currently, the only reason they’re willing to stay is to see through to the end of the trial. But after that…” She shrugged, shaking her head uncertainly. “Who can say?”

“No…” Adrien whispered in shock.

The others in class came closer around her, trying to offer some comfort and reassurances—what little they could give, at least. This was a situation that was clearly beyond them. Marinette herself hugged Alya tightly for all she was worth, and the other girl held her back just as much, neither wanting to be parted.

Adrien, however, remained on the outside looking in. Watching the people Chloe had tormented even before Miracle Queen and realizing just how badly they’ve been hurt by this. It hit him then—for what was perhaps the first time just how much pain Chloe had caused his friends. And how unfair he had been to expect them to simply deal with it.

He stayed the lone person outside of the circle. By this point, did he really deserve to join in the comfort? To try to be the one to give comfort? After what he had tried to push on them all?

After minutes passed, they were finally able to draw away from each other.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” Alya told Marinette. “I guess I was just hoping…y’know…that it wasn’t real. Or that it would go away and things would work out on their own.”

Marinette smiled. “No, I understand.”

And she did. That’s exactly what she herself had been doing for the past few weeks as well. Trying to deal with things without really dealing with them. Working without acknowledging just what it all meant because she was scared she would break down and that would be just one more thing Hawk Moth would have won because of this whole mess.

“I was kind of the same way.” She admitted, and it felt like a slight relief to be able to say aloud to someone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

She still couldn’t, unfortunately. Not about Ladybug and the kwamis and the Miracle Box.

But…she could talk about Fu. How she lost him. How she feels. She could help support Alya and her classmates and be there for them in the meantime.

She…hadn’t lost everything.

Not yet.

And that was the scary thing…

Adrien gaped at the group. He had thought the trauma was bad enough, and that at least could be worked through. But this...

“I’m sorry. I...I didn’t even realize...”

“Adrien, what Chloe did put a major target on our backs.” Alya explained. “Nobody knows how we became heroes, or that Ladybug was the one to specifically choose us and give us the miraculous to use. Nobody knows WHY we were chosen. It’s not just Hawk Moth, any regular criminal can come after us now in an attempt to get a hold of that power. And we can’t exactly protect ourselves.”

She shrugged helplessly.

“We kind of have enough to worry about with the fallout of Chloe‘s actions. And now you want us to try and protect Chloe on top of that?“

Seeing it now, in this light...it was cruel. It was cruel and unfair and hurtful, and Marinette felt horrible for considering letting herself be talked into it.

Adrien himself felt horrible for even suggesting it.

“We all have to live with the consequences of Chloe’s choices.” Alya stated. “So why shouldn’t she?”

Silence followed. It practically echoed throughout the entire hallway.

He said nothing in response. What could he possibly say? He’d known that Chloe was…difficult with other people, to say the least. He’d known the type of person she was. But she was his friend and friends forgive and support each other, right?

But they were right as well. It wasn’t fair to expect them to help Chloe after what she did. Especially once he knew of the level of harm she’d caused them. He felt the horror trickle in. The trauma everyone felt. The knowledge of what they’d been forced to do. The fact that…

He suddenly found it harder to breathe.

Nino could leave.

Adrien could lose his best friend because of this.

And who knew how many of the others would be forced to leave as well. Aside from Nino; Kim, Max, Alya, and Luka were other heroes as well. Juleka was Luka’s sister. And how many of the other classmates might be pulled out of this class and school because it’s unsafe? And Kagami—oh god, she was outted as well. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. Her mother is probably furious. She could move back to Japan because of this. And Marinette…she had been lucky to not be caught up in that fight since she was a hero only the one time, but that could have been just one more thing Chloe ruined for her…

…what about himself?

He paled.

He was longtime friends with Chloe. Went to school with Chloe. Was in class with Chloe. Chloe, who was currently getting a lot of heat from all of Paris. How was his Father going to react to that? The man was always focused on the company and appearances…what would he do now that Chloe had fallen from grace in such a way? Would he forbid Adrien from talking to Chloe again? Would he pull Adrien from school?

…would he ban Adrien from leaving the house altogether?

How was he only just now considering the impact? For himself or anyone else? Of course people would be hurt. Of course they would be upset. Of course people would respond. Somehow, he knew that, and yet he had only been focused on Chloe that it hadn’t actually hit home until now…

And in that light…

It had been selfish to ask. Honestly, he’d known that when he first tried to approach Marinette. But he felt he had to try. Honestly, part of him had known better than to ask in the first place. But at the same time…there was a part of him that still believed things could just go back to “normal”.

…how foolish. That was a “normal” that nobody else wanted. And even more, it was one that was now impossible…all because of Chloe herself.

“I just wanted to help.”

He deflated, losing all remaining fight.

“I’m sorry.”

The classmates glanced between each other. There was much they could have said, but really, anything they could have said already had been. And with him seeming resigned, it appeared there was no longer a need to defend themselves.

Marinette—ever the mediator, stepped up and hugged Adrien.

“Adrien, this isn’t something you can help with. None of us can. What happens in the trial is up to the courts. And what happens to Chloe is up to her.”

Slowly, he reached up and hugged her as well. The warmth and comfort brought some limited solace in this situation. He felt lost. Out of control. Like the world was moving around him and he didn’t know where he was standing much less where he was supposed to be.

They weren’t ready to forgive Chloe. And he couldn’t force them to be. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t blame them. And it was really unfair of him to try. Especially…

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” He whispered to her.

He had tried to use her. Looking back, he had a bit of a tendency to rely on Marinette to fix things when she shouldn’t have had to. Especially when it was for Chloe’s sake. He knew plenty of times Chloe had done things…but he always seemed to overlook how hurt Marinette was because of it, simply due to how well she always appeared afterwards. She was strong and confident, but also a good listener and willing to forgive. It was like nothing really brought her down.

It was due to this that Marinette was often the one he turned to whenever things happened. Because she would listen. She would understand. And she would always try to help, regardless of her position.

In this light…he may have over relied on her too much.

“I wasn’t fair to you.” He admitted. “I just saw Chloe hurting and only thought about how to fix things for her. I didn’t consider your feelings.” He hugged her more strongly. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. But she squeezed him back.

He felt another body press against him. A quick glance showed it to be Nino.

“I’m still super mad with her. And I don’t like how you tried to push us to defend her after what she did. But I get that she’s your friend and you care about her. I’d do the same if it were you in her place.” He gave a small laugh. “Not that I think you ever would, of course.”

Adrien smiled back. “Thanks.”

This…this felt much better.

Things weren’t okay right now. He still wanted to help Chloe. His classmates were still hurt. People were still angry. Hawk Moth was still out there.

But whatever happened...in this moment, he felt they could make it.

[ybangtannies]

Hiiii I am new t the whole requesting thing so first for everything 🥰 So, here it goes A scenario for yandere namjoon where there’s lawyer y/n who’s hardworking and mature x businessman namjoon who is corrupt in his business ways 👉👈 I dunno if this is okay 🤡

Masterlist

Word count: 3.1k

“I don’t get it, why don’t we just throw them off and stop having them as our clients? This could end so bad for us, the whole law firm could be affected by their- his antics.”

“We have already talked about this,” your friend sighed not sparing you a look, eyes focused on her phone, “yes, it’s a well-known secret that Mr. Kim’s business is corrupt, and he surely doesn’t make the most legal negotiations but,” now she did look at you, her brown eyes showing the tiredness of having to have this conversation with you, again, “we don’t really have the liberty of saying no to him. A lot of tabloids would be up in no time if we decided to stop representing them which would lead to him surely making declarations against us and that wouldn’t surely end up being beneficial for us. We’re already a small firm, Mr. Kim being our client is a huge deal, most of our - including yours- income comes from his business.”

You sighed, about to reply that yes, you understand her point but maybe if you made public those documents that prove his corrupt ways, the whole scene could be different for the firm and you’d be able to turn the tables, but she beat you and added, “plus, he’s a whole snack, girl, why are you even complaining?”

Not even bothering to answer, you rolled your eyes and let out a groan, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your office. On your way there, you saw your boss, “Good morning, y/n,” he said with a smile, “please remember that Mr. Kim is coming later to discuss some things with you.”

The smile you previously had on your face faltered a little, surely you decided it was better to erase that from your mind and was hoping -in vain- that another thing would have come up so Namjoon couldn’t make it to the meeting. “Of course, Mr. Min, I already have prepared the files he asked me about and possible solutions.”

“Good, it’s wonderful to see how hard you work, y/n. Keep it like that, and you’ll make it big.” With that and another polite smile, Mr. Min walked away from you.

You sighed heavily and finally arrived at your office. It seems that these days the only thing you do is sigh and feel frustrated. Of course, you knew that being a lawyer in a firm meant that you won’t always be working for people you like but you didn’t think that it would entail working with a corrupt businessman without any chance of exposing him or just putting a halt to your contract with him. You knew the risks of doing that, of course, and that it would most likely mean you being fired alongside all your co-workers and put on a blacklist for all the other law firms to know that you weren’t trustworthy. However, that didn’t shake the guiltiness and rage you felt when thinking about how hard you have worked all your life to get where you are now just to risk it all for an asshole that was incompetent enough to do dangerous deals with people he shouldn’t.

You were wrong, though, Namjoon wasn’t an incompetent, quite the contrary actually. He was a very clever man indeed, knowing that having a law firm by his side would most likely help him cover his back in case something was to happen, especially if said firm is small and he is the main source of income.

“Mr. Kim is here” said the receptionist through the phone.

“Okay, send him up here.”

You collected your thoughts and breathed deep, praying you won’t snap at him like it had happened some other times before. It wasn’t just that you didn’t like the way he was managing his company but his personality and overall aura… you didn’t like it, not one bit. No matter how handsome and attractive he was.

A knock was heard in your office, followed by a voice “It’s Kim Namjoon, Mrs. y/s, may I come in?”

You arched your brow looking at him through the glass windows your office had, seeing his dimples showing because of the smile he had on his face.

“You may, Mr. Kim” you spoke in a monotonous voice, focusing again on the screen of your computer.

Namjoon’s smile turned to be more amused seeing your reaction, the one as always: trying your best not to look at him. He opened the door and walked in, closing it after him and taking a seat in a chair in front of your desk, not waiting for you to ask him to do it. You probably wouldn’t, anyways.

Of course, he knew the animosity you felt towards him and while at first that made him a little miserable and he almost lost his mind, with time he started finding it more amusing than anything and viewed it as a challenge to finally get on your good side. Naturally, the desire of taking you with him to keep you in his house was always at the back of his mind and he knew that sooner or later he would have to resort to that if he wanted you to be finally his, which of course he did. Until that moment, though, he would enjoy you being feisty towards him, it was amusing and kind of endearing seeing you struggling and fighting against yourself to not give in.

“How are you feeling on this beautiful day, Mrs. y/s?” Namjoon asked with a grin, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s actually interested in your answer.

He’s so hot, y/n! And the fact that he’s going against the law and with your help at that, only succeeds at making the situation even hotter.

That’s the message your friend sent you merely minutes ago, probably when she saw Namjoon was on his way to your office. Message you, of course, decided to ignore.

“It’s been good so far but I’m afraid that a big black cloud has just appeared to ruin it” you answered with a fake smile and felt pride at seeing how his smile faltered. You almost felt bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a criminal.

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly ready to say one of the numerous flirty lines he’s been trying to use on you since the very beginning, but you were faster than him and asked about what it was that he needed help with this time.

“Ah, you see, there’s this huge deal I’m about to sign in two days so I thought that it would be a good idea for us both to go through the contract together and also, I wanted you to redact a confidential agreement.” You hated the way in which he said it, like if everything were okay, as if it was just a normal deal and there was nothing fishy about it. You also hated knowing that he could very much do this with his own men -it wouldn’t be the first time- but still decided to come here to torment you.

That was how time passed: you both going through the contract, making sure everything was in order -or as in order as it could considering there were definitely some fishy things that needed to be disguised or be described in a very vaguely-, you trying to dodge every attempt from Namjoon part at flirting with you and him finding it both amusing and adorable.

You danced in your interior once everything was done and it was finally time for him to leave, looking into your watch you realised it was almost time for you to go home as well and mentally sighed in relief. You got over another day.

“If that was all, Mr. Kim, you’re free to go now,” you said with a tired smile that Namjoon noticed didn’t reach your eyes. He so desperately wanted to make you smile for real, be the one on the receiving end of the cheerfulness he knew you had in you; he’d make sure he was the only one getting it one day. “I’ll send you the confidential agreement tomorrow before lunchtime so you can go through it in case there is something else that needs to be changed for the day of the signing.”

“Just one more thing, miss” he said, getting up from the chair he occupied for almost two hours in your office, “I think it’ll be better if you came to me with the agreement in person instead of just sending it to me.” Namjoon saw the protest and confusion on your face and before you could give him a negative, he talked again “there had been several attempts these past few weeks at hacking my accounts as well as the one of my other employers so I’d prefer it if the agreement could me better in my hands rather than on my email. We’re working on it, but until I’m sure there would be no possibility for a cyber-attack...an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure”

As much as you wanted to say, ‘fuck no, not in a million years I’m going to see you more than was needed’, you obviously couldn’t, and there was no good reason for you to deny his request.

“Sure, I understand it. I’ll be there tomorrow.” Your answer came more tense than you wanted to, but you wanted Namjoon to know of your discomfort at the premise of having to spend more time with him.

“I’ll send a car for you, darling, there’s no need for you to go anywhere.”

With that and a wink, Namjoon abandoned your office, leaving you there hanging, you wanted to refute that there is no need for him to send a car for you, that you can very happily go on your own and have a car that works very well but, of course, he always has to have the last words. You rolled your eyes and groaned, touching the bridge of your nose. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

As Namjoon said, a car was sent your way to the law firm you worked at to take you to his office, or at least that was where you supposed you were going to meet him. But upon seeing the car taking a completely different direction from where it should go, your uneasiness started growing.

“Excuse me,” you called for the attention of the chauffeur, “aren’t we going to Mr. Kim’s office?”

“No, Ms. y/s, I was told to take you to Mr. Kim’s place of residence.”

That fucker, you muttered under your breath. Once you arrived, you couldn’t help but gawk at Namjoon’s place of residence. You were expecting it to be huge and over the top, that’s the kind of house that Namjoon required to have considering the way he carried himself, but this was something else. A whole family could live here, and they wouldn’t even have to see each other if they didn’t want to -and you were referring to a family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and kids.

The chauffeur opened the door of the car for you and was the one leading the way into Namjoon’s mansion as well. The interior was even more dazzling if that was possible: it was decorated in a minimalistic and modern way but there was a hint of old fashioned in some of the furniture. It was exquisite. You were guided all through the mansion until you arrived at the front of two huge mahogany doors, the chauffeur -you felt bad you didn’t ask for his name, he seemed nice- knocked on one of them and from the other side you could hear Namjoon’s voice ordering whoever was at the other side to come in, immediately he opened the door and made you a gesture with his hands for you to go in. You nodded your head and muttered a ‘thank you’ before entering the room. The door closed right behind you.

Namjoon looked up from his computer and a smile quickly found its way to his face upon seeing you right there in the middle of his office. He got up from his chair and moved around his massive table. “Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you, please come and take a seat,” you did as tell and came near him, smiling slightly when Namjoon moved the chair so you could sit, “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you with coming all the way here, some problems came up this morning and I wasn’t able to make it to my building.”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Kim?” You asked more out of courtesy than because you were actually concerned or interested in what his answer would be.

“Nothing you have to worry about, darling,” the paternalistic tone he used made you almost roll your eyes even if you were secretly grateful, he didn’t bother you with the problems of his corrupt business, “since it’s almost lunchtime, I asked my service to bring us the meal here later so we can eat together.”

“There was no need for that, Mr. Kim, I won’t be here much, you’re just required to go through the agreement and then I’ll be on my way to work again.”

Namjoon only hummed and went back to his chair in front of you. Without any further distractions you both proceeded to went through the document and, right as you stated, it didn’t take much time and since Namjoon didn’t really have any objections, you wrapped it up in no more than an hour but, much to your dismay, by that time the food has already been brought up to his office and you didn’t have it in you to deny it when it looked and smelled as delicious as it did.

“Please, try it,” Namjoon encouraged you, both of you have moved to one of the sofas on his office, and he took advantage of it and was now right next to you, “I didn’t know what you enjoy, so tell me if you don’t like this and I’ll ask for the chefs to make you something different.”

Now, that was a lie, Namjoon already knew everything there was to know about you, having made an exhaustive study of your life himself two days after seeing you for the first time; he knew the name of all your relatives, how many times you’d moved, the college you attended, the marks you got, hell, he even knew the name of all your ex-boyfriends and friends that were no longer in your life. You were fascinating to him, and he couldn't wait until he could uncover every single secret you kept to yourself.

“This looks amazing, I’m sure it’ll taste just the same” you said almost salivating, it’s been a long time since you last ate a proper home cooked meal. You could feel the intense gaze of Namjoon on you while you took the fork on your mouth and swallowed the food, you couldn’t help but make a sound of satisfaction at the taste and it was only in that moment that he averted his eyes from you at the sight, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the wine that was brought alongside the meal. “This is amazing! Thank you so much, Namjoon.”

You didn’t even notice you called him by his name or the real smile that was on your face and directed at him. But he did, and he could feel his heart galloping in his chest like crazy, feeling already addicted to hearing his name rolling on your tone without an annoyed tone to it and being on the receiving end of your more than beautiful smile.

You both kept eating and eventually started talking about everything and anything. It surprised you how you found yourself having a good time and enjoying Namjoon’s company more than what you thought you’d ever do. He was still an asshole in your eyes, and you didn’t like not one bit the way he made business, but you couldn’t deny that he gave you an interesting conversation and was funny even when he wasn’t trying to. Eventually though, you started to feel more and more dizzy, and a migraine was starting to form in your head.

“Is everything okay, darling? You’re getting paler by the second” you heard Namjoon voiced next to you, he sounded concerned and was closer to you than a minute before, one of his hands almost resting on your knee.

“Yeah...no, do you happen to have any pills? My head is starting to kill me…” your voice sounded estranged even to yourself and the strength was quickly leaving your body.

Before you could try to fight it, darkness consumed your every sense and the last thing you could feel or hear was Namjoon’s body pressed against yours and his smooth voice calling your name.

After twenty minutes or so, Namjoon finally decided that it was time to lead you to his room and rest your body on his bed. He’s been admiring your face, being this the first time, he has had the chance to do it from such a close distance, delighting himself in how perfect your body felt pressed to his and how from this day on, he’d be able to feel this way for the rest of his life.

He closed the door from his bedroom and locked it just in case, though he doubted you’ll wake up until tomorrow. On his way to the door, he made a call.

“What’s up, Namjoon?”

“I’m going there now, Yoongi. She’s already in my bed resting.”

Nothing more needed to be exchanged between the two men and Namjoon hung up right when he got into his car. Yoongi and Namjoon have been friends since they were both teenagers, having gone through a lot together. When Namjoon received an email with several photos of you he hadn’t order to take and a simple message saying, ‘we are keeping an eye on her too’, he knew he had to do something to keep you safe and it was actually Yoongi’s idea to lead you to Namjoon’s house, drug you and keep you there finally with him. They still had to figure out who the fuck had guessed Namjoon favoured you, but now that you were going to be safe by his side, he couldn’t help but smile silly all the way up to Yoongi’s building.

He knew he had a long way ahead of him until you fell in love with the same intensity, he had fallen for you, but he was sure you’d both get there and be the perfect couple he’d been dreaming of for so long.

[champagne-bucky]

Debt to Be Paid: III

Summary: Earth fears intergalactic war with another planet. The Avengers are called to work out negotiations on Zevitar, the planet of peace. What happens when they are reunited with their long lost team member?

Warnings: dark!Bucky x reader, mentions of non/dub-con, age gap (reader is of age)

Notes: Hello, sorry this took so long but here’s chapter 3. Had a rough week this week so I held off on writing for a bit. Make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more!! Enjoy :)

“Sire, you are needed at the front gates. The visitors have arrived,” a guard came into your room to get your brother.

“Sister, I’ll return momentarily. If there’s anything you need please alert one of the maidens.”

“Go ahead, I got all I need right here,” your tired eyes didn’t move off your beautiful baby. You didn’t even hear your brother step out of your room as you cradled him away.

“Oh Asher, my little prince, you’re something I never knew I needed in my life,” you continued rocking him, obviously to your surroundings, and obviously to the visitors who just entered your planet.

__

“Ah, I believe you are what they call “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”, welcome to Zevitar,” the king bowed towards the Avengers as they reciprocated.

“The Princess sends you her warmest of welcomes. She apologizes for not being able to greet you all, but she had just given birth this morning to a prince,” Carol choked down her gasp as she tried to stay out of your brother’s line of sight.

“Please give her our best, and to the new prince as well. I am Captain Steve Rogers and this is Tony Stark, we would like to thank you for hosting us during these unprecedented times,” Steve perfectly recited the introduction Ross gave him before they left.

“The pleasure is all mine. Zevitar is a planet of peace, we try to promote that to other planets as well,” the king urged them inside the castle and began to tell them of the plan.

“We have made arrangements for the general and his team to stay at the summer castle, so do not be afraid of any ambush. We have our guards posted heavily here and there. You will meet at our Capital building first thing in the morning to discuss negotiations. If tensions increase our guards are prepared…” the king droned on as Steve zoned him out.

He just wanted to get this over with as fast as he could. The sooner they sign a treaty the sooner he could get back home and continue his search for you.

“You alright there, pal? You’re looking like you want to fall over,” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder in an attempt to make his laugh, or smile, or something, God anything.

Bucky was mad. He was mad that after all had been attempted, Steve still wasn’t entirely his again. Even when he was still being hospitalized, Steve barely made the time to visit. Instead, Steve stayed up in his own head, thinking of you… wanting you back, and goddammit if that didn’t piss Bucky off anymore than it should.

Bucky hoped you never came back home, he hopes that you’re off hiding somewhere and will never return. Some days he hopes you do come back, because not only will you get punishment, but he’ll get you back for attacking him.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t jerk off to the thought of his personalized punishments for you. He could only dream of visiting a padded, sound proof, white wall prison cell where no one could hear you scream. Only for him.

“Yeah, just got a lot on my mind with tomorrow and everything,” Steve mumbled as the king droned on.

It’s not like Bucky didn’t try to get him back to his normal self, Steve just couldn’t find it in himself to move on.

“Well it’ll all be over before you know it,” Bucky hid his anger at Steve’s demeanor.

__

“The visitors have been greeted, shown their rooms, and are now preparing for a formal feast from me. In the meantime, how is the little prince,” you brother came into your room as you held Asher.

“The little prince is a little fussy, but he and mommy are working on it,” you cooed at the sleeping baby, “why are their visitors?”

“Something about a war they want to stop. It’s a shame how other planets haven’t adopted our mantra of peace. It would save a lot of bloodshed,” your brother walked around your room.

“Such a shame indeed,” you really didn’t want to delve into the topic of war and bloodshed while holding your baby.

“If only there was a way for them to see that fighting is never the answer. Too many lives to be lost,” your brother has a far off stare, most likely reminiscing on the war.

“Why don’t you show them?” you suggested.

“How?”

“Invite them to stay a while longer, show them our ways. Maybe they’ll learn a few things,” your brother’s ears perked up at the idea.

“That sounds like a remarkable idea, sister,” you nodded your head and yawned, feeling tired.

“Are you feeling alright, sister?” your brother asked.

“Yes, brother, it's just been a long day,” you felt your eyes getting droopy.

“Then I’ll let you get your rest,” your brother kissed her forehead and took the baby from your arms, placing him in his little bassinet.

“Rest easy, sweet prince,” you mumbled as you drifted off into sleep.

__

Negotiations between the two opposing sides seemed to go a lot smoother than the team thought. After Tony sweet talked them and Steve hit them with logical reasoning as to why their planets should not go to war, the opposing side agreed to work out a peace deal and put an end to an impending declaration of war.

“I believe congratulations are in order, Avengers,” your brother greeted the team as they got back to the castle. Steve didn’t want to talk for long, he wanted to pack his bags and get on the ship ASAP.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for hosting me and my team, we will be forever grateful for your gratitude and hospitality,” Steve started to walk past him.

“You’re not leaving so soon are you?” the king questioned the whole team.

“Well we figured after we sorted things out that we would be on our way,” Tony answered.

“Oh you must stay. We would love for you to take advantage of all the lovely things Zevitar has to offer. It would be such a shame for you to go so soon. You haven’t even met the princess yet,” the king was insistent, and what would it look like to say no to Zevitar’s leader.

Tony sighed, “We would be honored to stay with you, your highness.”

Steve groaned internally. He knew that it looked bad declining the king’s invitation, but he didn’t want to be held back from his search. However, maybe he could use a break.

“Don’t worry, Steve. We’ll be back home before you know it,” Tony patted his shoulder before the king gave them a tour of the castle.

__

Two weeks. Two whole miserable weeks on this damned planet. Steve couldn’t believe what he and the other agreed to.

He wanted so bad to argue with Tony, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. They had to stay or else they’d get an earful from Ross.

Steve was tossing and turning in his bed. His anger and disappointment became unfathomable that sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He needed to go outside for some air.

He wandered through the many twists and turns in the old castle. Steve admired its beauty and the ancient history behind it, from what your brother had explained.

And then he heard it.

A baby’s cry.

Or a wail more like it.

No one other servant in passing seemed to hear it, but Steve did. Good thing for his super soldier hearing huh?

The poor mother must be struggling to calm her baby down. Steve decided to follow the noise and offer some help.

He went down a few halls and made a few turns, but after a while, the crying seemed to increase in volume as he appeared in front of the right door. Steve raised his knuckles to it and knocked.

__

The baby was crying nonstop. All you wanted was an hour of sleep, but Asher had other plans.

You feared he had a fever, but he showed no signs. Then you thought he was hungry, but he wouldn't drink from his bottle. You asked your chamber maid if she would be so kind as to fetch the royal physician and see if there was something wrong with the baby.

It seemed like hours when you finally heard a knock at your door. Poor Asher was turning red from all the crying and you just about had enough of it.

You quickly ran to the door and swung it open.

“Thank you for coming so late at night. Asher…” and you paused when you looked up at the face on the other side of the door.

“Steve…”

[alittlebitgoofy]

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter 3 (taywhora)

here we are, chapter three finally :)) thanks to zyan for her patience, this took a lot of work to get done ngl she helped a lot 

ao3 link

The next morning, Tayce realized how deep she was in. Just going about her daily life with A’whora was bringing out all kinds of things she hadn’t been aware of before. Sure, being close to her always made her weirdly giddy, but they were best friends, that was normal. Right? 

She didn’t know what to think, she wasn’t gay. Surely, she would’ve felt something for a girl before this all happened. Maybe it would pass, it did with guys she's crushed on in, why would this be different?

She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind, the one that knew it’d be different because it was A’whora, and she was better than anyone Tayce could ever meet. No one could ever beat her. 

It wasn’t like her to get so into her head over something, but it started to make sense. A’whora had always been there, always making her deliriously happy in their best times and with her through thick and thin. She couldn’t imagine her life without the goofy blonde, and was forever grateful they crossed paths. 

A’whora wouldn’t judge her for this, minus the details of it being about her. But it wasn’t time to bring something like that up. It felt too raw, like Tayce could be mistaking herself or the feelings would sort out in a matter of time. It wasn’t a crush, it couldn’t be.

Or could it? 

“Hey, you alright there?” A’whora poked her shoulder. Of course she’d noticed something was up. Nothing got past her. “I don’t think I've ever seen you think so much. What’s going on?” Her voice was caring in a way Tayce would always hesitate at. She didn’t like vulnerability, didn’t want to talk about her problems even to the one person she’d trust with anything. 

At the lack of a response, A’whora came closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Tayce’s chest warmed at the action. She wanted nothing more than to lean into it, scoop A’whora into her arms and just lie with her, pretending everything was fine. Something stopped her, the common sense that it wouldn’t help how things were no matter how little A’whora was aware of them. 

“It’s nothing, I’ll get over it,” Tayce sighed, her hand going to hold A’whora’s and give it a squeeze. A’whora knew what that meant. She was closed off with no option to try and pry her open. It was frustrating, why couldn’t she be open? She had been in the past, but it rarely came about. It wasn’t something she could force like it or not. She’d work with her quirks, just as Tayce did with her constant overthinking. 

“Do you want to go play something? I might finally be able to beat you at Mortal Kombat if you’re not careful.” 

Tayce was thankful for the distraction, agreeing to the game and silently begging all of this could stop and she could just enjoy the company of her best friend again. 

---

It took days for Tayce to begrudgingly accept her feelings weren’t going anywhere. It felt like a cruel joke, pushing this onto her just after another reminder her love life was failing. Talking to her roommate about it wasn’t an option, she could only sit and try to pay it no mind. It got harder to look at A’whora how she used to. Anything the blonde did sent shock waves through her heart. 

She’d smile, eating beans on toast and making Tayce a plate, being blissfully unaware of the confusion and pain she was putting the taller girl through. She had no idea of the way Tayce longed to pull her close and just have her understand everything. She couldn’t communicate it, but she just wanted someone to understand.

She wasn’t a lesbian. That much she was sure of; she’d been with enough men to know she genuinely enjoyed it. She was happy with the idea of ending up with a man.

If they were as good as her. 

Something in her hated the idea, refused to like girls. Surely, she would have realised it earlier. It screamed this is a phase, that she should hate herself for feeling this way about someone who she was so close to. A’whora didn’t deserve someone like her, who didn’t even understand herself. fi

She’d always been able to shrug those voices off, unaffected by society’s expectations. But this felt different. She had nowhere to turn, she was left to deal with something so much more than she knew how to and powerless to tell anyone. 

A’whora has been cautious around her, Tayce being snappier with so much going on in her head. It hurt to see the way she hesitated before saying something that could irritate her. She looked conflicted, as if she wanted to call it out but she knew that it would cause Tayce to blow up in her face.

It would happen if she was confronted, Tayce knew she’d get defensive as all hell before she let anyone know a thing about what was going on. She dealt with things alone, that wasn’t negotiable. 

“I’m so happy for you two! It’s about time,” A’whora grinned, she was on facetime with Ellie and Lawrence who was with her. It was good to see the two had finally resolved their tension, but it was the furthest thing Tayce wanted to see then and there. 

“Please, the sexual tension was unbearable,” Tayce chimed in, trying her best to mask her irritants and be happy for her friends. She was happy for them, it was just overshadowed by so many things. Said things being in the room with her, shuffling close to her to get her on the screen. 

“Oh, please, you’re just jealous we got a relationship sorted before either of you,” Lawrence shot back, though A’whora and Tayce just laughed it off. 

When A’whora came off the call, Tayce felt her mask fall; she didn’t try to hide the miserable look on her face as she stared blankly ahead of her. “What have you got a face like a smacked arse for?” A’whora tried to joke a bit, sensing the sudden change in mood. Tayce just looked at her and groaned, shoving her head in her hands and groaning louder when A’whora asked what was wrong again.

“Was it the relationship stuff?”

“I just don’t want to see that stuff, you know?” Tayce sighed, eyes firmly glaring at the floor. Her eyes were glazed over with too many feelings. It was easier to fall numb to it than even process the mess her mind had been lately. 

“What? Gay people?” A’whora attempted a joke, though the lack of response from Tayce sent shockwaves down her spine. “It’s not actually that, is it?” A’whora’s nervous laugh rang out in Tayce’s ears. She felt powerless to say anything, she couldn’t communicate what she was feeling. All she could do was stare down, as if she was deaf to the whole conversation, but painfully aware of every second that ticked by. 

She wasn’t thinking about what could happen if she didn’t answer. There were too many things going on for her to even process a reply but that was all A’whora needed.

“Tayce, what the fuck. Is that why you’ve been so weird lately? You’ve been like this since that night at Bimini’s where Lawrence and Ellie were getting close.” Tayce finally looked up, looking like a deer in headlights. Her words just weren’t forming. That wasn’t what she meant, she supported them, she always had but she couldn’t begin to form the words that she needed to. Before she could try it was too late. Her best friend looked at her as if she was the most vile thing she’d ever seen, there was no hope to scrape back a recovery.

“I didn’t mean that! I just don’t want to see it right now!” “See what? You can’t say it? You’re disgusting. You spent years being supportive, but I never brought a girl here. If I did, would you have cracked sooner? I can’t believe you, I thought you were good, Tayce. I can’t even look at you right now.” She was yelling now, visibly furious in a way that Tayce had never seen. It shook her to her core to have that directed at her but once again the words couldn’t come out. She couldn’t defend herself. 

Seeing Lawrence and Ellie together made her uncomfortable, the idea of A’whora bringing a girl home made her uncomfortable. She tried to respond, only able to sigh and attract the ire of her roommate even more. 

“Fuck this, I’m leaving. I’m going to Bimini’s. I don’t want to see you, either deal with this shit or move out.” “Don’t leave!” Tayce cried out, finally able to find some words. A’whora looked at her pitifully, shaking her head. Her heart sank. She’d fucked up. The one person she could always trust to have her back was pissed at her for something she was guilty of 

“I’m not staying. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be around someone like you.”

A’whora stormed out, leaving Tayce with only her thoughts. They filled the silence that the blonde left, screaming at her. She should have said something, she was disgusting for being like this. Everything started to hurt. She just wanted A’whora to help her but she’d fucked that up too. She didn’t deserve her anyway.

She was too caught up in her head to do anything. Everything she had done up until now ended in disaster. What was the point anymore?

Tayce considered calling someone, anyone, just so she could explain the situation to someone. She didn’t love to talk about her problems, but she needed it now. With A’whora out of the picture, who else could she talk to? Bimini? They were very understanding and compassionate, but that was who A’whora had gone to for comfort. 

Lawrence and Ellie were together, that was too much for her to want to try. Plus, saying anything about this to either of them would get them prying for details, and her whole friend group would end up knowing about this. 

With A’whora mad at her, though, she was sure word would travel soon.

That left Asttina. She seemed like a good choice, though the chance she was with Bimini was decently high; it was Tayce’s only shot at a decent conversation that wouldn’t spill it to everyone they knew. 

Asttina picked up quickly, surprised by the sudden call. It wasn’t like Tayce to call people randomly, she’d prefer talking face to face. Her interest peaked further as Tayce let out a quiet thank god as she answered the call. 

“Help.” That was all Tayce could get out, her voice weak. She held none of her usual energy, it sent shivers down Asttina’s spine to hear her so defeated. 

“What’s wrong? Does it have anything to do with A’whora in the lounge talking with Bimini? She looked pretty upset, guessing you are too?” Asttina spoke slowly, trying to gauge exactly where Tayce was at. This wasn’t the girl she knew, it was a broken shell who was without the one person she knew would understand her.

“Yeah. we had a bit of a falling out. She was joking about something and I didn’t deny it. I don’t really know how I feel about it. It’s such a mess.” 

“Girl, I can’t help you if you’re being vague,” Asttina deadpanned, Tayce only sighing in response. 

“Okay. We were calling Lawrence and Ellie and I got a bit in my head, being reminded of people being in love and all. She was trying to help me, asking me what was up and making a joke about it being because they’re gay. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know what to say. It isn’t that, or I thought it wasn’t, but it might be. Seeing them together made me uncomfortable. The idea of her getting with someone and bringing them home makes me uncomfortable. What if I'm the problem?” Tayce felt everything spill out of her. All the words she couldn’t find earlier. It felt freeing to finally tell someone but the doubt fell back on her soon after. She was a bad friend, she was the common issue in all of this. 

“Tayce, there is no way you’re homophobic. There’s something else going on here. You’ve supported A’whora ferociously for years, you helped me and Bimini get together and you wanted Lawrence and Ellie to hurry the fuck up like the rest of us.” 

Tayce let out a hum of acknowledgement, trying her hardest to ignore the doubt that crept in even with her friend's reassurance. How could she be so certain? What if she was just faking it?

“Tayce.” Asttina shook her head. She could feel the hesitation in Tayce. “Have you considered maybe jealousy?” She continued.

“Me? Jealousy? I don’t do that, you know I don’t. What’s there to be jealous of? Sure, I’m annoyed at seeing people in loving relationships, but it’s not like I can’t live with it. Why would it be an issue now?”

“You just contradicted yourself,” Asttina stated flatly, Tayce groaning in realisation. 

“But that doesn’t explain the A’whora thing, like, even the idea of it? It makes my stomach churn.” 

“I’m sure there’s another reason for that, but I think you already know it.”

She did know, deep down. It wasn’t the same way she felt when Lawrence and Ellie were all coupley. It was different, a visceral reaction to something that pained her to even think about. It started to make sense—but it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true, not her. She wasn’t. 

Or was she?

[tiberius-ttd]

Wraithlike Stirrings

Commander Tiberius:

**(Memory)**

I fly the transport ship through the gate to the prearranged location. Our diplomatic party consists of myself, Claudius and Lastlight, as well as a handful of drones. It is safer for our Mother not to attend such unpredictable events in-person, and Father trusts me well enough to be comfortable remaining at her side.

As we near the meeting place, I gain a sense of my brother’s minds, and perceive a stark contrast. It is why I chose them to accompany me in the first place, the one balances the other. Yet in this case, neither temperament is ideal. Claudius is on edge, whilst Lastlight is perhaps too confident. I chide them both.

((It is in both parties’ interests to form an alliance. I do not expect trouble. Nevertheless, the wraith who is unprepared for trouble is the wraith that ends up captured or killed.))

I look to Lastlight at that last comment. He is brilliant, undoubtedly, but not unstoppable. He rolls his eyes at me, of course, but Claudius takes my words to heart. I sense his nerves turn to brave resolve, and I send him rare praise, before further addressing Lastlight.

((Queen Agrippina is unlikely to attend herself, but her daughter may be present. From all accounts, she is a noble Princess with a strong mind, so you might wish to be careful around her.))

I privately remind him of the time he was allowed to meet Princess Rubyrose; he acted like a babbling idiot for most of that meeting. Of course, Mother is already considering arranging a betrothal between the two, anything for darling Lastlight. She is much the same with our youngest brother, the newly-named Caelus. Though what she sees in him, I am less sure of. So far he seems… vapid… I sense that Father hardly approves either, not that he would ever outwardly question Mother’s decisions.

In any case, no matter Mother’s approval, Lastlight will have to wait. Even if Princess Rubyrose is agreeable to the match, my betrothal must come first as the eldest. I sense Lastlight is hopeful that I will be taken with this Princess today, if she does indeed attend the discussions. Hm, we shall see. I am not so easily impressed as him…

I land the ship and step outside onto the world of Aequus. This planet and worlds like it have long been used for negotiations, and are viewed as neutral ground. Wraith worshippers have also been allowed to settle here, so that they have a safe place to live and reproduce when not in service… and we have access to quick and easy meals during long discussions. Some of the humans approach us without fear, but I wave them away. I do not care for their pomp or adulation, they are as irrelevant to me as the trees, except for when I am hungry.

No sooner have we landed than I hear the sound of the stargate activating in the distance. It seems this hive also values punctuality, a good start. Moments later, their transport ship arrives. As soon as it comes into close proximity, I can sense her. I called her noble before, but the word does not do her justice. She is… perfection! Everything a true wraith Queen should aspire to be and more! Courageous, but not foolhardy; intelligent, but not to the point of detachment; caring of her men, but not at the cost of weakness. I had said earlier that I was not easily impressed, but how could any being not be overcome with devotion to such a mind? To such a Queen. To Princess Vipsania.

She emerges from the ship, and her appearance is just as breath-taking as her mind. Silvery blonde hair cascades down past her shoulders in ringlets. Its colour is only exemplified by outfit she wears; all black, with an air of both elegance and practicality. If her hair is silver, her eyes are gold, and as I look at them she holds my gaze. I sense her own fascination with my mind, and she boldly approaches ahead of her brothers. I can hardly breathe as she stops only a few feet away from me, never breaking eye-contact, and gives me a curious smile.

(Vipsania): “And who might you be?”

**

(Vipsania): “Tiberius… Please… help me.”

(Michael): “Set her free, Tiberius. Free her wretched head from her miserable shoulders.”

“AHHHHH!”

****

The first sensation that returns as I awaken is pain. All of those memories, times spent with Vipsania, with Lastlight… and then remembering how everything went to hell. Even now, cured as I am, I cannot bring to mind all that took place during her last few hours. However, there are certain parts that (memory drugs aside) will never leave me. Her screaming, her blood- so much blood- and sensing her mind weaken and fade throughout it all. I was so close to her, mere inches away, and yet there was nothing that I could do to stop it. All I could do was watch, and feel her pain alongside her. Until she gave me her final request. And I had to…

I block that memory, refusing to let it overwhelm me once more. I remind myself that, even in death, I did for her what I could. I sent her head (released from that awful box) into her favourite star, so that she would forever be a part of it. Not only that, but with her brain destroyed, Michael could never hurt her again. And now… now I can truly say that she has been avenged! She is no longer merely a distant memory in Michael���s mind- one of many countless Queens he caused the death of- and he surely rues the day that he ripped our lives asunder! For now he KNOWS my pain, both for my child and for Vipsania!

My thoughts turn from them, to the one who allowed me to gain my vengeance. Nala… in the end, I pity my unfortunate sister. Despite my best attempts, the actions the Lanteans had taken could not be undone. She was as much of a freak as Michael, though in a different way, one which was arguably more sympathetic. The desire to care for her brothers remained, yet her nature was too weakened and corrupted to be in any fit state to rule. Needless to say, the corruption was only made worse in the presence of Michael! I saw it in these past two weeks (the memories of which seem much like a waking nightmare in my head), and I saw it when I first brought her back to the hive, all those years ago. I knew then that I could not repeat Mother’s mistake. If the worst were to happen- if my attempts at teaching her civility were to fail, or worse, Michael were to reclaim her- countermeasures must be prepared. I would not allow her to fall back into the depths of depravity, and release another abomination back out into the galaxy. For our sake, but also for hers. If I could give my sister nothing else, then I would give her peace. Of course, if she had to die, and her death were to occur in front of Michael, I would not waste the opportunity to teach him such a lesson in grief…

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear Hypnos’ voice in my head, asking about my current condition. I send him my utmost praise and gratitude! I dread to think of what may have befallen us had he not made preparations. Or even more alarmingly, if he had informed Michael of what was to occur. He may be a scientist, but I owe him my freedom and my life. I will not forget such a debt.

His own mind pulses with a heavy sorrow. I… share his regret at the fate of Marcellus and Caelus. Telling them about the poison would have been too great a risk, it was wise of Hypnos to withhold that knowledge from us all. However, it meant that they were ill-prepared for the escape, and circumstances being what they were at that debauched ‘celebration’, we had no choice but to leave them behind. My instincts were right in what I said to Hypnos afterwards, that we should not attempt a rescue for them, but only now do I have full insight into my reasonings. Any signs that we care for their predicament will only encourage Michael to use them against us. It was my mistake, my terrible mistake, to go back for Vipsania. I will not allow that to happen twice! If he sees no use for them on my behalf, if he believes that I do not care… they are nothing to him, he bears them no ill will, he will surely gift them the mercy of a quick death for their ‘loyalty’ in staying behind. Such is my hope, that they do not have to remain with him and suffer in his atrocious ‘kingdom’ for long.

My own time spent there… how do I even begin to process all that happened… and yet process it I must, if I wish to be in a position to address the men. I must face the humiliation and share all of my memories with them, first and foremost so that they understand the dangers of being captured by Michael. The recollections will also provide my brothers with all of the intelligence I was able to glean whilst I was… worse than a prisoner… a shell of a man…

The first attempt, ‘Tibby’, was undoubtedly the worst. Not for the many human acts I was compelled to perform- degrading as they were- but for the sickening emotions imprinted into my mind. The ‘happiness’ at being with the abomination, the ‘love’ I felt for the thing that hurt not one, but two of my Queens, my Father and so many of my brothers. I had thought that I could experience no more shame, after failing my siblings, Queen and child, but truly they all would have loathed me, to see me in such a state.

The second attempt was perhaps not as humiliating as the first, but I was still just as pathetic a creature in many ways. All of those weaklings whose foolish behaviour I was ordered to endure; the human children, the warped wraith scientist, the hordes of Michael’s hybrid freaks. Should any ever cross me again, my blade hand is ready. Then again, most of them will likely die long before they could ever track me down, either from their own stupidity, or from Michael’s disgusting new infection. As for Michael himself… being subjected to those ridiculous verbal battles with him... that is, when Nala was not present and he indulged her delusional, human-like family ‘games’… Well, such weakness on his own behalf is what allowed me to destroy that horrific planet. As for what strategy is to be employed against him next… well, that is a conversation to have with my remaining brothers. I have dwelt long enough on the past.

I make my way to the hibernation pods, blocking anything that is not useful or needed out of my head. As Father always taught me, I must be strong for them. The hybridisation alone will be a heavy blow for my brothers to take in when they awaken. How they will handle the news of all that has transpired, I cannot say. Nevertheless, I owe them every detail of the truth. Unlike Michael, I will not lie or make excuses for my actions. I will not beg for their forgiveness, and if they consider my actions to be regicide, I will do my duty and undergo exile.

I inform Hypnos of my plans, and send the few drones we have left to the bridge to relieve him. I give him the option of rest, but he chooses to join the others. I meet him at the entrance to the hibernation chamber and, when we are both ready, I deactivate all of the pods.

[twokinkybeans]

because you asked for prompts: could you write about peter asking tony about what he likes in bed? like peter thinks tony is too focused on him and wants to please tony too (maybe if you could add a daddy kink too that would be nice but u can decide the kinks!)

2266 words! I went crazy with this one omg. I never intended any smut to happen, but hey, here we are. :P I hope you enjoy it! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult Peter Parker, smut, pure fucking filth, kink discussion, negotiated/under-negotiated kinks, dom/sub, daddy kink, praise kink, hoodie sex, mention of master/slave dynamics (not practiced), pet names (ranging from sweet to filthy), anal sex, coming untouched, cock warming.

...

It’s been about four months since Tony and Peter started dating. They took it slow at first. However, from the moment they had sex for the first time, they could barely let go of each other anymore. Every waking and sleeping minute was spent together and more often than not, Tony worshipped Peter’s body with the sweetest, softest kisses and touches. Life was good. Yet. Peter wanted more out of it.

Their sex was soft and vanilla. Even… Cute? Peter liked it, but sometimes Tony let go just a little bit. And those were the times Peter came the hardest. He knew Tony constantly held back. That he hid something from Peter. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to make Tony feel just as good as Tony made him feel. Possibly even better. If only Tony would tell him…

It was a brisk spring morning when Peter draped himself over Tony on the large sofa. The man was reading something. Whatever it was, it was utterly unimportant now. Tony tossed the Stark Pad aside and smiled down at his lovers face. Peter’s curls were weighed away from his face by gravity as he laid flat on his back, head resting on Tony’s legs.

“Hello there,” Tony cooed, gently pushing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Hiii.” Peter had a mischievous grin on his face, which made Tony cock an eyebrow.

“What are you plotting?” Tony scoffed a laugh at Peter’s faux-innocent doe eyes.

“Nothing, nothing,” Peter chuckled. “I just, y’know, might be a little hard right now.” The comment ignited Tony’s insides and he leaned in over Peter’s face a little.

“Oh? Are you?”

“Mhm.” Peter pressed up to give Tony a quick peck on the lips.

“You’re insatiable,” Tony groaned with a smile, pushing in to kiss Peter more deeply. The younger man opened his mouth to grant Tony access.

It’s not long before Peter’s seated on top of Tony, gently rubbing their crotches together while moaning into Tony’s mouth and fluttering his eyes with each rut.

“T-Tony?”

“Mm?” The billionaire couldn’t reply properly with Peter’s tongue pushed between his lips. Peter took his hands out of Tony’s hair and rested, stopping his movement altogether.

“What do you like?”

“…You?”

“No- no, I mean, in bed. What do you want me to do to help you lose your mind?” Tony pulled back and stared at Peter with wide eyes.

“Peter, I-“

“No excuses, Mr. Stark.” Peter moved forward again to breathe into Tony. Their noses touched and their gazes were locked. “I think you like it a little more rough. Hm? Am I right?” Tony huffed out some air, confirming Peter’s suspicions without actually saying anything.

“What if I hurt you?” Peter couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that.

“Hurt me?” Peter shook his head a little. “You’ve seen the hits I can take. I’m Spider-Man. How could you ever hurt me?”

“I know, I know, you just… You look so fragile.” Tony pursed his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, pondering his next words. “Especially during sex.” The way Tony took in his next breath, slightly shaky and as an obvious reaction to the image in his mind, had Peter grin wide. He sat back a little and lifted his hand to hide his mouth behind his curled in fingers. The oversized hoodie gave him the sweet advantage he never knew he would need this morning. He pulled his hand back in the arm hole slightly, covering his palms with fabric so only his fingers showed.

“Mm, do you like me fragile? Small?” Peter grinded down into Tony again, only once, and Tony had to hold back a moan. Alright, Peter thought. That’s a yes. “Soft and delicate under your touch?” With his free hand, Peter raised Tony’s to meet the one he still had in front of his mouth. He slipped one of Tony’s fingers into his mouth, both his hoodie covered hands enveloping Tony’s. He sucked gently and blinked twice, cocking his head slightly.

“Jesus, Pete-“

“Wha- else do you wike?” Peter’s words are obstructed by Tony’s index finger still between his lips.

“You, kid, like I said, I like you-“ Tony seemed torn. He obviously felt embarrassed about this topic of conversation but he definitely did not want Peter to stop doing what he was doing. However, Peter wasn’t satisfied with the answer and pulled Tony’s finger out. He waved Tony’s hand in a circle to pretend the older man was lecturing him, finger pointed to the ceiling.

“Not good enough.” Peter started grinding again. “Do you want me to call you something? Do you like it when I call you Mister?”

“I think it’s best I don’t associate you calling me Mister with the things we do in the bedroom. You call me that a lot.”

“Fair. What do you want me to call you then?” Peter tried his best to keep his upper body still, only rolling his hips like a dancer over Tony’s crotch. The billionaire involuntarily bucked up and Peter knew the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. He just wasn’t saying it. Gently, Peter guided Tony’s hand to his ass and rested it on top. With his other hand he pushed up the hoodie slightly, revealing his pale skin. “How about Master?” He cocked his head the other way. “Do you want me to be your slave?” Tony shook his head tightly. “No? I could be your sex slave, bound and at your feet, doing anything you want me to do.”

“No- Pete-“

“Just tell me what I’m working with here? I want you to feel good, Tony.” There was a beat.

“Fine,” Tony growled as he suddenly flipped them over. Peter ended on his back on the sofa, the billionaire hovering over him with a hunger in his eyes Peter had never seen before. His rough hands pinned Peter’s above the young man’s head. “Want me to speak my mind? Say what’s really going on in my head when I fuck you? No filter?”

“Please,” Peter sighed content. Finally. “I’ll use my safe word if it’s too much.”

“Good boy.” Peter’s eyes went wide and he let out a surprised moan that dripped with the sudden surge of arousal he felt at the praise. Tony had never called him that and, by God, it’s perfect. “Mm, so you like that too, huh? Fuck, Pete, I’m gonna tell you exactly what I think.” Tony pressed in with an aggression that had Peter’s head spinning. “But I want you to beg for it.”

Oh, God, yes.

“Please, please, tell me, Tony-“ Peter tried to push up his hips in an attempt to find back the friction he lost when Tony flipped them over. “I have to know, I- I need to, please!”

“God, Pete, you’re so fucking pretty like this, desperate and needy.” Tony’s mouth ravaged Peter’s skin, moving his wet kisses from his jaw to his collar bone that popped out of the neck hole of the big hoodie. “So cute, it’d be a waste not to rail your pert little ass with my fat cock. Wanna ram into you with all I have, show you how strong I am.” Peter doesn’t know what to reply with, other than another moan of want and lust. Tony is filthy. And Peter loves it.

“Already out of words, pretty thing? Already a moaning mess for your Daddy?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and bucked involuntarily. A lewd moan fell from his lips as he nodded. “Look at me,” Tony ordered. Peter immediately obeyed and opened his eyes.  He whimpered when Tony’s face appeared right in front of him, eyes piercing through him, capturing him and keeping him in place.

“D-daddy?” Peter tried the word and was pleasantly surprised at the pleasure that coursed through his body as he said it. Tony seemed to be affected by it too. His pupils dilated even further, hiding the deep brown shades behind an infinite lustful darkness.

“That’s right, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you with my cum. I want to wreck you until the only thing you can think of is my cock. Wanna make you mine; my pretty little cockslut- Do you want that too?” Tony growled.

Holy shit.

Whatever side of Tony Peter just unlocked, he wants to throw out the key and keep this man forever. He’s filthy and arousing and hot and yes- yes-

“Yes- yes- yes, Daddy, please give me your cock-“ Peter whined. “Fill me, claim me, shit, I need you inside me so bad-“ Tony wasted no time and sat back up to unbuckle his belt, letting go of Peter’s hands. Tony pulled out his throbbing shaft and showed it off. Peter could only stare at it open mouthed. “Daddy, please?” Peter licked his lips and Tony groaned above him. Precum showed at the tip and Tony immediately used it to slicken his cock.

“Which of your holes do you want me to fill, pretty Peter?” Tony grinned wide. His legs were still on either side of Peter’s body, knees pressing inward and squeezing Peter’s waist. It was so utterly possessive that for a second Peter forgot Daddy asked him a question.

“Any- Any, daddy, please, use me-“

“Oh,” Tony moaned and threw his head back. “Why did I not tell you about this sooner?”  Peter saw an opportunity and grinned. He raised his hands to his face again, still mostly covered by the oversized hoodie and angled himself.

“Maybe cause I look so innocent?” He fluttered his eyes a few times and Tony roared a laugh before pushing his free hand up Peter’s hoodie to tweak a nipple. The young man jolted and squealed before moaning out loud again.

“Should’ve known you’re secretly just as filthy as I am.” Peter pushed his hands through his own hair and arched his back up to lean into Tony’s attention more and more.

Tony, however, pulled back to tear off Peter’s sweats.

“Open up, sweetheart,” Tony said with a smirk, gently tugging at Peter’s legs. Peter immediately complied and folded himself up, spreading his legs as wide as he could on the sofa and presenting his prepped, pink hole. Tony groaned as he pumped himself a few more times, using some of the lube that they’d left on the coffee table last night. “Jeez, you were already ready to be fucked, isn’t that right, Petey?” Peter nodded aggressively, still staring at the cock in front of him.

“Always ready for your cock, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as he clenched around nothing. Though, that nothing turned to something in the blink of an eye.

“Then take it,” Tony growled as he pushed in. “Be a good boy for Daddy.” Peter mewled at the sudden girth filling him up and dragging on his insides. Tony was absolutely perfect.

“Y-yes, please, wanna be your good boy,” Peter panted as he adjusted. The hoodie felt too warm around his body, but he didn’t want to take it off. Daddy liked it on him. Made him hot and desperate, just like Peter wanted him to be. All this filth and aggression did things to Peter that he’s never experienced before. He felt a need to make his Daddy feel good at any cost. To please and love him. Serve him. Be used by him in whatever way he saw fit. Tony was right. Peter truly was a cock slut. And he loved it.  

It wasn’t long before both Tony and Peter started rocking against each other in a delicious rhythm that ignited them both. The room filled with the scent of their sex and the sounds of their moans and skin slapping together. After a little bit, Peter held Tony’s face in his hands and looked into his Daddy’s eyes.

“May I be yours?” Peter whispered through his whimpers while Tony rutted into him like a dog. Tony smiled sweetly and Peter could swear he saw him tear up at Peter’s soft words.

“Forever-“ he panted with a growl. “Mine-“

“Y-Yours,” Peter parroted as he lost himself in the ecstasy when Tony angled himself to hit his sweet spot over and over and over and- “OH-“

Peter erupted, reminded of how his cock had remained untouched for the entire duration of their intense fuck. Tony always made sure Peter got the most attention. His cock, his ass, his nipples his everything. All he got this time was his Daddy’s dick hitting his prostate without remorse and for the first time in his life, Peter came untouched. His cum coated the navy blue hoodie and his convulsing and clenching around Tony swiftly resulted in the other man shooting his load into Peter. The older man rode down their highs and after a short while, he tried to pull out. Peter stopped him, though, and wiggled around until Tony was sitting on his butt again with Peter still on top of him, sheathing him. Tony smirked as he caught his breath.

“What’s this, baby boy?” He purred as he toyed with the hem of Peter’s cum covered hoodie. Peter leaned forward to rest against Tony’s chest, chin laying on the back of the sofa behind the billionaire.

“Mm, wanna keep you warm, Daddy,” he mumbled innocently. Tony chuckled.

“I think, you just want to keep my cock inside you for yourself.”

“Is that bad?” Peter whispered, kissing Tony’s neck. He felt so deliciously full. How could he ever want to end it? He loved being Daddy’s cock slut. Or sleeve. Whichever.

“Hm,” Tony pondered. “No.”  

[starshinewriter]

for my ABDFD AU:

Scrooge tries to take the kids on their first adventure, Bentina puts her foot down.

Link

alternative to ao3:

"Alrighty, Kiddos, are yew ready fer the best day o' yer lives?"

"YEAH!" Scrooge met the kids' enthusiasm with a big smile and a cheer of his own. They should be excited, this was their first adventure after all. Ah, they reminded him of Donald and Della getting ready for theirs- same determined excitement and everything. It almost made him tear up with nostalgia, and something else he wasn't quite ready to name. Ack, best not to dwell on that too long, right now was a wonderful time, it would due him no good to live in the past.

He started to lead them to the backyard where Launchpad was readying the plane- actually maybe they shouldn't take the plane, if Launchpad's piloting was anything like his driving... they were taking the jeep and Scrooge was driving. It would take longer and he didn't drive if he could help it, but the kids' safety was non-negotiable.

"What's going on here?" A voice suddenly asked from behind them and he froze, how did he always forget about Beakley? He whirled around to answer her -and attempt to salvage the situation- but the kids beat him to it.

"Unca Scrooge is taking us on an adventure!" Dewey said, punching the air in excitement.

Bentina raised her eyebrow, "Is he?" Scrooge grimaced and chuckled nervously.

"Ah, Beakley-" She held up a hand,

"Save it. This adventure is canceled." The kids distraughtly started to protest but she held her ground. They were much too young to be adventuring, surely Scrooge would realize that. "I'm sorry you're so upset, but the fact is that none of you are ready for this- you're much too young." Webby went up to and looked up at her with hurt confusion,

"But you've been training me, I know how use a graping hook and how'ta disarm my foes. Isn't that stuff good for adventuring?"

Bentina sighed and bent down to her level, "It is, dear, and while you've come such a far way you still have a lot to learn. You're just not prepared for this yet, you will be one day- all of you will be." She looked at the twins then back at her granddaughter. "But not yet." She got off the ground and stared Scrooge down, "This is not happening today, or anytime soon."

Scrooge glared at her, "The twins are my kids, ae make the decisions fer them. If yew didnae want Webbigial ta come then ae won't take her but yew have no right ta tell me what ae can and cannae do with them." Bentina glared back and the kids looked at each other unsurely, this looked like it was becoming a fight, they didn't like when the two of them fought. Dewey noticed his brother's eyes turn to the ground and reached to get his Unca's attention- Huey shouldn't look like that, Huey should never look like that. Scrooge turned to him and realized what was going on. "Kids, why didnae yew go hang oot in the den while we talk." They didn't waste a second running out of there. Scrooge sighed, "Well, that could've gone better."

"Agreed." The foyer fell silent. "Mr. McDuck, Scrooge," Scrooge looked at her, knowing she only said his name when she was being deadly serious. "They are too young for this, they need the chance to be kids and do normal kid things, you can't take that away from them. Besides, as capable as they are, they are not ready for something like this- they could easily get hurt, or worse. It's too much of a risk. How old were Donald and Della when you took them on their first adventure?"

"Ten. But-"

"No buts. When the kids get to that age we can reopen this conversation." She sighed and looked away from him. "I know you're eager to repair your past mistakes, that you think if you get them started on it sooner that nothing like the 'Spear of Selene' will ever happen to them. But Della didn't get lost because she was unprepared, she got lost because she was reckless. And this," She gestured around. "Is reckless. You know it is."

Scrooge sulked down, "Ae just want ta protect them."  

"You can do that in other ways, but you can't protect them from everything. I understand how tempting it is -believe me, I do- but it won't do them any good in the long run. And as their parent you have got to come to terms with that."

"Ae cannae protect them from everythin', but ae can make sure nothin' like that blasted spear ever happens ta them." Bentina nodded, she knew better than anyone that he could. He was Scrooge McDuck, that had to be enough this time. "Ae'll put the adventurin' on hold fer now, ae just hope they won't hate me fer it." He wittily added on.

Bentina placed a hand on him, "I'm sure they'll understand." Scrooge nodded and looked towards the den. He had some kiddos to talk to.

______________________________________________________________

The kids were huddled together on the couch, wondering when the adults were gonna stop fighting. They got their answer when their Unca Scrooge walked in. The twins immediately reached for him wanting comfort- which he readily provided. Then held out an arm for Webbigail when he noticed her staring, "Ah, ae'm sorry yew kids had ta see that. We try our best ta keep stuff like that away from yew but sometimes we slip up. We're fine now, we've talked it oot and everythin's good. We'll be mare careful from now on, promise."

"Iz okay. We adventure now?" Dewey asked hopefully and Scrooge sighed.

"No, nae today. Mrs. Beakley was right, it's ta soon fer stuff like that, ye need ta wait until yer ready and ae should've seen that sooner. This is on me, okay? Ae didnae want yew blamin' Mrs. B or yerselves, it's my fault. Ae shouldnae have gotten yer hopes up like that, ae'm sorry fer that as well."

Huey grabbed him insistently, "But, Unca Scrooge, we are ready!" Scrooge carefully took his hand and lightly squeezed it.

"No, yer nae, and that's okay. Things like this take time, ae've been doin' it so long that ae forgot that. But ae won't again, yew three are mare important ta me than any adventure," Scrooge grew a fond smile and directed it at the twins. "Yew two are my adventure, and ae cannae ask fer a better ane." They smiled at him and he felt his heart melt. He turned to include Webby in the next part of his speech, "Yew'll be ready fer these adventures someday, and ae'll be with yew every step o' the way."

The three of them tackled him in a hug and he let out a joyful laugh as he hugged them back. "We dint wanna go without Lou anyways." Dewey said, his voice muffled from the hug, and Scrooge hummed, he didn't think about that. Well, all the better they were putting it on hold then- when he took the kids on their first adventure he was taking all of them.

He was having bad lapses of judgment lately, it suddenly occurred to him, he really had to do something about that. Good thing he had Beakley. But these kids -and Louie- really did bring out the best in him, didn't they?

[darth-void]

On the Streets of Coruscant

Chapter 3 

~

AN: Thank you @sydnubabu for being my beta and catching all the commas I miss, there were so many, thank you! 

Rated G (for now 😏)

Words: 3k 

~

You heard your comlink chirp early one morning as you were getting ready for the day. It was Maul attempting to contact you. You checked yourself in the mirror quickly, and answered his call. 

“Maul, what a pleasant surprise.” 

“My lady, I hope I am not bothering you this early.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m an early riser. To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“You said before that you would like to take a ride on my speeder bike when it is finished. Is that interest still there?” He asked. 

“Y-yes, certainly,” you answered, trying to hide your growing excitement. 

“Splendid. I have finished it and done several test-drives. It is ready for me to show you.” Is that a smirk? You thought to yourself. He looks pleased. Paired with his perpetually furrowed brow, he looked almost wicked. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you called early, there is no session at the senate today, and I had yet to make plans. Until now.” You smiled as you spoke with Maul. You were privately eager to hear from Maul again, your last encounter hopeful for another one, and it came sooner than you imagined. “My apartment has a small landing platform off the balcony, I can be ready in an hour, if that works for you.” 

“I shall be there, my lady.” And with that, the call ended. 

~

Maul was waiting at the dock outside your apartment on his speeder bike. He had ditched his hooded flowing robes for a more sleek look for the ride. He saw you making your way out of your apartment and noticed you too had decided on trousers and boots over your usual formal senate robes that he was used to seeing you in. 

You started to head outside and your security captain had begun to follow, so you stopped, within hearing distance of Maul. 

“Captain, I promise you, I will not need you for this. I trust Maul to keep me safe, and I will stick with him for the duration.” 

“Senator, please-“ Captain Cen began to protest, but you cut him off. 

”We talked about this, and you are staying.” You had a finality in your voice that Maul assumed you used while working in the Senate. He liked hearing you exert your power. 

“Are we ready, my lady?” Maul said standing next to his bike as you approached. 

“Yes, quite.” You smiled at him, excited for the ride. You looked at the bike and noticed the seating was a bit cramped. “So, how will this work?” 

“Unfortunately, this speeder was not exactly built with two riders in mind, but I think there is a way for us to fit well enough.” 

“Will it be safe?” 

“You’ll always be safe with me.” 

Maul went to sit on the speeder bike, straddling it, and making sure to scoot back. 

“You’ll sit in front of me, here” he gestured to the small bit of padding left between his legs. You looked a little apprehensive, then he held out his gloved hand to ease you in. 

The fit was tight, but it looked like Maul had found a way to adjust his handlebars and the backrest so you both fit and he could still reach around you to steer the bike. You were a bit scrunched up with your legs bent and feet resting on the bars above the footrests. Maul’s arms reached around you and caged you in close to his chest as he started up the bike. When you both were situated and as comfortable as possible, he took off. 

 ~

Maul stopped the speeder bike and helped you off first. You stepped away and looked out over a vast vantage point, a panoramic view of the main hub of Coruscant. You could see the Jedi temple off in the distance, and the Senate building. The view reminded you of your first time on the ecumenopolis, the start of your Senate work, and the awe you felt in those early days and weeks, looking out at the vast city from your apartment. 

“How have the proceedings been going in the senate lately?” Maul asked you as you took in the view. He could sense you wanted to talk. 

“It has been… difficult. As always. Some days I do not know why I want to be a senator. Getting bogged down in petty squabbling and nothing ever happening.” You let out a little huff. “But, I do not know what else I would do, honestly. This does truly feel like what I should be doing. It’s just- it can be difficult most days.” You looked back at Maul who was casually leaning on his speeder. “That is why I’m glad I got your holo this morning. I needed a good break away from work.” 

“You said you were not going into the Senate today,” Maul stated quizzically. 

“Yes, that is true, but I do not have much of a life outside of my work, and I usually spend days off in my study preparing my work.” You had a feeling that Maul was the same, always working and never truly having time for himself. “What of your life, Maul. Have you been busy with… apprenticing?” 

“I always am. If I am not busy with a specific task put out for me to do, my master insists I spend any free time doing work for myself. That’s how this speeder came to be.” 

“A pet project then. Lovely. Tell me about it then. You said you made this from scratch?” You asked. 

“Nearly. It is from a Razalon design that I stripped apart to pieces and rebuilt completely to my specific requirements,” Maul replied. 

You enjoyed Maul opening up and hearing about his passions. 

“I named it Bloodfin, after a powerful and deadly creature. The Bloodfin are a dark red, semi-aquatic predator native to the oceans of Bastion. For the rebuild, I had its energy systems modified to divert all power to speed. It can go 650 kilometers per hour, but I was sure to make it silent.” 

“Are you a predator like this fish, Maul?” You toyed. 

Maul smirked at that but stayed silent. 

“There is something to be said for working with your hands,” you said. 

“Indeed.” 

The two of you shared a look… 

“Come, let’s continue,” you said to Maul and walked back to the speeder. 

~ 

Maul drove you around all over the city, no true direction in mind. He often took long rides and knew the city well. Maul always felt a sense of emptiness and frustration as an apprentice under Darth Sidious, so he would often take to the streets. 

You two also stopped at specific places throughout your trip through the city, once for lunch at a hole-in-the-wall eatery Maul claimed was decent for the likes of a senator, and he was pleased to see you actually enjoyed it. Maul told you half-truths about how he came to know the area so well. He did have work in various parts of the city, sent by his master. For mechanical reasons, they were not. He drove with you until the sun went down and the city lights grew brighter before he headed back to your apartment. 

As you got to your apartment, Captain Cen walked out to meet you, clearly having been worrying all the hours you were gone. 

“Senator, good to see you back safely,” he said to you, then eyed Maul suspiciously. Maul smirked back at the man. 

“Yes, I appreciate your concern, I’m back and now you can rest easy. Thank you for today but that will be all.” You quickly dismissed Captain Cen, but he stood there with a confused look. 

“My lady?” 

“You are relieved for the night. You may leave a single guard at my door if you insist, but that will be all.” To Maul’s delight, you spoke again with that authority in your voice, and Captain Cen had no choice but to submit. 

“Very well, my lady. I will leave one person for you tonight. Good night.” He gave a quick bow of his head, and he was off. 

You turned back with a smile to Maul, who was still sitting on his speeder. 

“So, would you like to join me for dinner again?” 

“Certainly, my lady,” Maul replied and gladly dismounted. 

~

The two of you ate with a more casual conversation, a big difference from the first dinner you shared with him. Maul spoke little still, but it was better than nothing. Not to get too cocky, you felt pride in cracking his hard shell throughout the day and seeing a tiny sliver of him. 

“I am trying for a different approach this time around. The Republic has an army, though a small one since we are a galaxy at peace right now. And the Senate has its delegates that form committees, what need is there to send the Jedi to do Republic bidding? I do not believe that the Jedi should be sent on behalf of the Senate to participate in negotiations. Negotiators. Ha! Why do they need those dangerous weapons for peaceful negotiations, hm? They should just stick to being religious beings that hole up in their precious temple learning about the force.” 

You finished your small rant and felt a little better, but also a little guilty once again at unloading so much on a new friend. You took quite a big swig of your drink and placed the glass a little too forcefully on the table. The two of you had finished dinner and were standing at your balcony and looking out at the city. 

“I’m sorry, I know I can get a little passionate when I drink, I-“ 

“Do not apologize for your rage, your passion. Let it out. I encourage it, let me hear your anger and see your feelings.” Maul’s eyes were lit up, they looked to literally be glowing. He looked like he basked in your rage, to see it flow freely from you in a moment of your unguarded true self. 

“It’s just- They take children from their families! And so young… it's all so they can brainwash them into believing their ways, so they don’t know of anything other than the order.” At these words you noticed Maul's face darken. 

“Were you…” you started quietly. You felt you shouldn’t continue in this exact question. Instead, you changed your direction.  “I feel like I don’t know enough about you, Maul. May I ask you something?” You looked at him, and he made no gesture of acceptance or refusal, so you went ahead anyway. “Do you have a family?” The question was a little out of the blue, but you knew where you hoped this line of questioning would go. 

Maul did not answer, but looked down. His brow still held his scowl. 

“Are you force sensitive?” 

Maul stayed pointedly silent. You took that as an answer in itself. You were almost sure you knew the answer anyways. 

“The night you saved me in that alley, you were not close enough to the man, and I saw him get thrown against the wall. I wasn’t sure what had happened initially because it all happened so quickly, but… I played it back in my mind after you left my house that night.” 

Still silence. 

You started to languidly step closer to Maul, but he stayed still as you approached him. 

“Is that why you dislike the Jedi?” You asked him. “They didn’t come for you.” You whispered so low, but he heard you. He looked down at that, then you took one last step and were so close to him …

You gently put a hand to his cheek, thumb lightly brushing against his prominent cheekbone. He looked back up, and his glowing eyes were boring into yours. His face was the most gentle you had ever seen it, the creases around his brow relaxed and soft. 

Maul finally spoke, his voice low yet clear. “I do not remember my family. I was… given to my master as his apprentice when I was very young. I have been here ever since. He raised me, taught me. He is not an easy man to know, but he has trained me well through the years.” He paused for a second, his eyes giving away his internal conflict of whether he should go on. 

“You are correct in your guess. I am force sensitive. Though the Jedi not taking me in is not my reason for hating them. I-“ he paused, figuring out if he could twist the truth into the lies he’s already told you. “I cannot say. It is a long and terrible story. Maybe someday, I will share it with you.” He looked up into your eyes, your hand still gently on his face. 

You had hoped this would be the moment he would open up to you, he really looked like he wanted to, but you understood why he didn’t just yet. The two of you had only met a few times, and yet you already feel a bond with him. You didn’t want to push the trust he had given you so, you accept his answer. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you replied with a nod. 

You noticed him look down at your lips then quickly turned his head to look away as if he wanted to do or say something but couldn’t. You brought his face back to look at yours. The two of you were so close you could feel his breath on your face. 

Still gauging his comfort, you brought your face closer and kissed him, your lips lightly pressing on his. Maul was hesitant at first, but relented and kissed you back. He brought a hand to your waist and to your hand that was on his face. 

He was gentle with you in this moment, as he always was with you. You kissed for a moment until Maul pulled away, pressing his head to yours. You stayed like this for a beat longer, wondering what he was thinking. 

You finally decided to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” you said in a whisper. 

“No, I apologize. I just. I don’t know if I should,” Maul replied. He looked conflicted. “It’s getting late, and it’s been a long day. I must return.” 

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, neither wanting to move away first. Finally, Maul pulled away, and took your hand away from his face but still held your hand in his. 

“I must go but I will return.” 

You nodded in reply, not knowing what else to say.  

Maul let go and turned to leave. He started up his speeder as he mounted it and looked back at you before he took off. You stood on the platform and watched as he flew further and further away. 

~ 

Just as Maul arrived at his lodgings, he received a holo from Sidious. “Come to me at once my apprentice, we have much to discuss.” The call was terminated before Maul had a chance to reply. He quickly changed into his formal robes and went out again to the apartment of Senator Palpatine. 

Maul made a slight detour when he spotted two Jedi, a master and an apprentice, on the streets speaking with some citizens. He couldn’t help but hover in the shadows and spy on them, allowing it to feed his rage and hide his true thoughts before he met with Sidious. The encounter was short, and he slipped back into his path to Sidious. 

Sidious scolded Maul for his distraction with the Jedi and threatened him with punishment of death if Maul ruined his well-made plans. 

“I know you are keeping something else from me. Tell me what else you have truly been up to. I can feel it. I know you are hiding something from me. Tell me now,” he demanded. Darth Sidious had a cold aura about him, and he was always scheming. His hold on Maul was tight and nothing Maul did escaped his grasp. Maul knew then that Sidious had known what happened with him and the senator he was sent to tail weeks ago. 

“I have made contact with the senator, my lord master,” Maul admitted as he bowed his head in submission. 

“More than just made contact. I ordered you to follow her at a discreet distance. She was never meant to see you!” Sidious yelled. “You have disobeyed me. Do not let it happen again.” Sidious started walking and Maul followed him. “Since it is too late and you have made contact, tell me, have you learned any more?” 

“The senator does not seem to give up easily and is often changing direction for how to get her bills and legislation seen by the senate. After the attempted assassination, her security has been increased and no second attack has been made, yet.” Maul told as much information as was pertinent to what Sidious was after. He did not think that the private and intimate time you two had spent together was something he wanted to tell his master. They were special moments he wanted to keep to himself. 

“Very well. I do, however, have a task for you.” Sidious explained his mission and sent Maul away to fulfill it. 

Maul went back to his place and readied for the Kellux system. He decided before he left to send a one-way holo message to you. 

“My lady, I wanted to let you know that I am going away. I do not know when I will be back but I will call when I return. I do not have time to say goodbye, I must leave straight away. Know this, I will be thinking of you.” 

With that, Maul sent the message and boarded his ship.

[221bshrlocked]

Wanted Man (2)

Wanted Man Masterlist

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Words: 4680

Warnings: tennssssion. one swear word.

A/N: my dudes, I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I’m enjoying writing it. Let me know how I am doing please and thank you.

You’d hoped to sleep-in the next day, knowing that in the months to come, perhaps few years depending on the project, that it would be early mornings. Looking at the alarm, you saw that it was almost noon and you didn’t realize what woke you up until you heard your phone buzzing beneath the pillow. You grudgingly took it out and looked at the caller ID, swearing when it read ‘Restricted.’ Who the fuck was calling you right now? 

“Hello?” You lazily asked, rubbing your eyes and attempting to focus so you could get back to sleep. When no one responded, you sighed and spoke again. “Hello? Who is this?” When you still didn’t get a response, you whispered “Jesus Christ” under your breath and were about to hang up when someone finally answered. 

“Good morning Ms. Y/L/N, my apologies for calling. I assumed you’d be awake by now.” As soon as you registered who’s voice that was, you quickly sat up and stood at the foot of your bed. How the hell did he get your number?

“M-Mr. Wayne?”

“The one and only. I forgot to ask yesterday but when shall I expect you to come in?” 

Your brain must have been in REM sleep because you couldn’t fish for an answer. Or perhaps it was your tongue that couldn’t move? You didn’t care about that because the only thing going through your mind was how you managed to embarrass yourself numerous times, in the span of twenty four hours, in front of your future boss

“Perhaps I should call at a later time.” Bruce took a deep breath and you hoped it wasn’t out of boredom.

“No no I’m sorry sir, I just didn’t expect you to call. I was hoping to move in the next few weeks but I’m still looking for a replacement for my roommates. I’d rather not leave them without someone taking care of my portion of the rent. And I haven’t started looking for apartments yet. I did already find a moving company so-”

“Nonsense, I need you here by tomorrow. Don’t worry about the rent or finding an apartment, I’m sure Alfred can handle that in the next hour or two. You just pack your things and let me know when you’re ready and I’ll send someone to move everything with you.” You hated how relaxed he sounded, almost as if this was a daily activity for him: helping new employees with trivial things.

“Mr. Wayne, I am sure you have more important things to take care of. If you need me to begin by tomorrow, I can just ferry back and forth until I find another student to-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, as far as I know, commuting back and forth will only waste time. And I know my city very well, it isn’t safe for someone like you. I need you to start working soon and it is my job to make sure you are comfortable and ready to go. Pack your things and I will send someone to move everything.” You shivered at the calm yet commanding, amazed at how un-billionaire like he was. Maybe the articles got it wrong after all.

You managed to breathe out a “thank you sir” before waiting for him to continue. It didn’t seem like he left any room for negotiation, and that was definitely not surprising to you.

“Once you’ve set everything up, I’ll need you to come by the penthouse to sign some papers.” Bruce was flipping through the newspapers, not thinking of his next works until your question rang in his ears. 

“The penthouse?”

“Yes Ms. Y/L/N, this may be news to you but I don’t spend every waking moment at Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Fox and Alfred will be here as well so rest assured this is not- I am not inviting you to-,” Bruce was at a loss for words, failing to understand why he would possibly bring up something like that. He just didn’t want you to misunderstand his intentions. Granted it wasn’t like he didn’t spend the better part of his night thinking about you but this wasn’t where he wanted the conversation to go. He looked at the rear view mirror and saw Alfred holding back a smile, and he knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of it once he finished the phone call.

“Oh I completely understand Mr. Wayne, I would never presume a-anything like that.” You quickly responded, feeling embarrassed for both him and yourself.

“Right, of course. Hmm, I’ll see you in a few hours Y/N.” He was frowning at himself, choosing to ignore your response for now because if he wasn’t thinking of potential rejection before, he definitely was now.

“Have a good day sir.” You whispered back and waited for him to end the call before falling back on your bed.

“What in the hell?” You asked the empty room and looked around to see what you were going to start packing first. You didn’t have any furniture apart from the chair and the desk, which you picked up from some street when you moved in. You’d definitely have enough money to buy new ones so you decided to ignore all the furniture. A couple of hours later, you’d had all your tools in one corner of the room, your clothes in luggage bags in another, and all your books in more boxes than your other things combined. When you finally walked out of your room to tell your roommates that you’d be leaving sooner, they both nodded and told you they already knew.

“What do you mean?” You asked Sara as she cooked lunch for everyone while Melissa was finishing up one of her projects. 

“Our landlord called and told us that someone paid rent for the next six months.” Sara said as if it was the most normal response to give. 

“Like my part of the rent?”

“No silly, the full rent. Looks like whoever you’re working for is giving you lots of benefits. Want to hook me up with a job too?” They both laughed and you stood in the middle of the living room absolutely stunned. What was he playing at? 

“We’ll find someone for your room by then.” When Melissa looked up and saw the expression on your face, she left her things and walked up to you. “Listen, we know we weren’t really the friendliest people to have around but we don’t know where you’re going. Just leave an address and your email so we could make sure you aren’t getting kidnapped or something.” You weren’t sure what surprised you more, the fact that Wayne paid the full rent for half a year or how genuine Melissa sounded. 

“Uhh, yeah sure. I’ll just be over a state so don’t worry about me. Not getting kidnapped.” You smiled at them before taking out your phone to let Bruce know that you finished packing. You weren’t sure if you could just call him or not but you decided to take the chance and bother him considering how little he told you about what he’s doing. It rang a few times and before you decided to hang up, you heard him pick up the phone.

“Bruce Wayne,” he said and you couldn’t help but notice how out of breath he was.

“H-hi, Mr. Wa-....sir, I just wanted to let you know I’ve finished packing. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to call this number or not. I apologize for the inconvenience.” He took a few minutes to respond to you but when he did, you had to look away from your roommates. 

“Y/N, you sure work fast. I hope you have as much...vigor...towards the project as you do in your daily activities.” Bruce couldn’t have stopped himself even if he tried and he thanked the heavens Alfred wasn’t anywhere nearby. When you didn’t respond, he knew he made a mistake and decided to just end the call quickly before he made a fool out of himself. “Alfred will come by in an hour. See you tonight Y/N.” And with that, Bruce ended the call, leaving you more of a confused mess than before. He’d said your name three times today and you hated how much more it affected you each time he used it. 

“Do you guys mind helping me take this stuff downstairs once the moving guy comes?” 

“Yeah no problem.” They both replied and you took that as your queue to go back to your room and get ready. This truly was the strangest encounter you’ve had with anyone. But you didn’t want to dwell too much on it. You were just another employee. 

Bruce almost threw his phone at the wall when he hung up. He was never like this, not even in his previous relationships. Not even with Rachel…

But something about you made him more attentive and a little rattled. No, not rattled. Flustered perhaps. Since when did he feel flustered? He continued his set-ups, hoping to get his mind off of how utterly sexy your hoarse voice sounded in the morning or the way you continued to call him ‘sir.’ He was never into things like that but damn it he loved it when you kept tripping over your words and called him that. Alfred had given him hell following the morning call, telling Bruce that he wasn’t worried about you assuming anything taking place in the penthouse since he was doing that just fine for the both of you. Bruce debated on whether he should have his butler drop him off so he could walk the rest of the way but chose against it, refusing to respond when Alfred made his suggestions known even further. 

“Perhaps I could clear one of the rooms in the west wing sir, for office space of course.” Alfred smiled at the rear view mirror, watching as his master rolled his eyes and refused to acknowledge what was happening. 

“No? Well we can always add space to the east wing as we’re rebuilding the manor Master Wayne, that way, you’d have more access to...her work. You could even put her in charge of the construction.” As soon as Alfred parked the car, Bruce sprinted out and shut the door behind him, ignoring the annoying man he’d known his entire life. 

“I will be going now Master Wayne. In the meantime, do you need anything?” Alfred stood at the foot of the bed, waiting until Bruce finished his excessively unnecessary exercises before he left.

“No thank you Alfred. And please, don’t give her a tough time.” Bruce stood up and downed a bottle of water, raising an eyebrow at Alfred when he walked away. 

“Never sir, I only reserve my remarks for you.” Bruce could hear the smile etched on Alfred’s face and he chose to ignore it. For now. 

He took this opportunity to think of the other cases he needed to deal with. There’d been recent rumors of numerous poisonings in the narrows but no one really knew who or what was causing these murders. He could have convinced himself to let it go had there not been a few innocent lives taken along with the powerful mafia leaders and gangs. Unfortunately, none of this phased him anymore. Commissioner Gordon was almost as calm about this ordeal as Bruce was, but then he mentioned how whoever was in charge always left a bed of roses on top of the corpses in the crime scenes and that’s what caught their attention. It almost looked like a serial killer but he had a hunch that it was much worse. 

Bruce rubbed his temples, bothered by how deprived he was of some normalcy. Was he even capable of such a thing anymore? 

He was about to contact Mr. Fox to ask about the test results for the poison when his phone rang. 

“Good afternoon Mr. Wayne.”

“Mr. Fox, I was just about to call.”

“I understand this is the last thing you want to hear, but there may be a setback on this project.” Bruce headed to the southeast wing, carefully listening to everything Fox said as he played the notes on his piano. 

Across the pond, you were taking down your last boxes, apologizing to the man you saw with Wayne a day before. It was curious that he’d sent his own driver, an older gentleman who probably wouldn’t be able to help you move everything to the new place but you would worry about that later. You’d thanked your roommates and gave them your contact information, wishing them good luck on the rest of their college career before letting Alfred know you were ready.

When you sat in the passenger seat, Alfred looked at you curiously before letting you know you could sit in the back.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to sit here?” You smiled at him and sighed in relief when he told you he was only here to make sure you were comfortable. You almost slipped and told him that no one in their right mind wouldn’t be comfortable in a Cadillac Escalade but you decided to keep that little excitement to yourself. You were surprised by the luxurious car when it pulled up and told Alfred you couldn’t possibly ruin it with your junk, at which point he laughed and told you that Mr. Wayne could afford ruining it. 

He was mostly quiet the entire ride back to New Jersey, occasionally asking you about your career choices before answering some questions of your own on Wayne.

“All I can tell you is he is not what the papers make him out to be Ms. Y/L/N. I have known Master Wayne all my life, heard his cries echo through the hallways when he was born. He’s like a son to me believe it or not.” Alfred smiled at you before he exited the freeway.

“Does he ever ask you for advice?”

“If you are asking if he considers me more than a butler, you’ll be disappointed by my lack of a response.”

“I won’t talk to anyone about this you know,” you replied, afraid he thought you were asking these questions to sell them to some stupid journalist.

“I trust your judgement young miss. I didn’t respond out of suspicion but rather out of my lack of understanding of Master Wayne’s person. He remains an enigma to me.” Alfred turned to you, making sure you knew he didn’t mean any offense with his response.

“I see. Well, either way, I wish I had someone like you in my life. You are very easy to talk to, a better listener than people I’ve known my whole life actually.” You didn’t care how open you were being with the older man but something about the way he carried himself made you feel safe.

“Thank you miss. Now that you’re part of Wayne Enterprises, I am sure we’ll be seeing more of each other. You can talk to me anytime you wish.” You didn’t think twice about what he said and thanked him, and Alfred tried his hardest not to smile at his own remarks. You and Bruce were truly from the same dense batch.

You almost arrived at the apartment when Wayne called and told Alfred to come by the penthouse instead. 

“Apologies for the change in plans.” Alfred looked over and could tell you wanted to ask him something but quickly thought against it.

“That’s alright.” You smiled at him, continuing to look out the window as you drove through the streets of Gotham. This was going to be interesting.

When you did arrive at the luxury tower where his penthouse was, your heart almost dropped to the floor. The two-story apartment, probably around twenty five thousand square feet, was not only breathtaking from the outside, but it was also much bigger than entire houses you’ve studied and designed. And as soon as you stepped inside, you were surprised by how simple and modern it was. Whoever designed this deserved to be worshipped because you could see the entire city of Gotham from every corner of the place.

“Right this way Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, do you mind calling me by my first name please? I- it’s a little weird and I’m still just a graduate student not, not…” He understood what you meant and nodded at you, leading you towards the main room and leaving when Fox made an appearance.

“It’s very nice to see you again Y/N,” Fox shook your hand and motioned for you to sit down. You were about to ask where Bruce was when you saw him walking down the hallway. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the sight of him.

He was wearing a long black robe that twisted behind him as he made his way towards you. Beneath the robe was a simple navy shirt and loose pajama pants, ones you avoided looking at for fear of embarrassing yourself again. You weren’t sure why it may have been the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen but his lack of footwear somehow made you clench your thighs together. You could hear his foots pad softly across the marble floor and snapped out of your haze when you saw Alfred coming behind him with tea.

“I trust you found a solution Mr. Fox? And good evening Ms/ Y/L/N.” He nodded towards you, gracing you with a quick, almost impatient smile before sitting down on the couch.

“S-sorry did I miss something?” You hoped you weren’t being a nuisance but it seemed that they were already running into issues.

“It seems that someone may or may not have leaked out plans for expansion and we’ve been getting unsolicited phone calls and emails in the past twenty four hours.” Fox thanked Alfred for the tea before taking a sip. 

“I swear I said nothing, not even to Fairbanks.” You instantly became defensive and you could tell it was a misplaced reaction when Bruce crossed his arms and stared at you. 

“No one is accusing you of anything, however, we will have to go about this in a different fashion.” Fox patted your back and motioned for you to sit down. 

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, we will not release our plans yet. Not for the project nor for who will be in charge of it. I am afraid you may receive offers from other companies and corporations, and as you know by now, we are protective of our employees.” Fox smiled at you before setting his tea down and flipping through a folder of paperwork before placing it on the table in front of you.

“This is more than what I bargained for.” You remarked, not out of annoyance more to point it out to everyone in the room.

“Reevaluating your decision?” Bruce couldn’t help but ask and Alfred gauged both his reaction adn your own, turning to Fox and staring at him before looking to the ground again.

“I never said that sir.” You whispered apologetically, taking a cup of tea and sipping on the hot liquid to take your mind of the circumstances you’d gotten yourself into.

“We just wanted to inform you before you signed any contracts.” Fox said to catch your attention and when you turned to him, you saw he had a pen ready for you to use on the numerous files next to your tea. “And what was the solution?” You wanted to be kept in the loop.

“For now, I think it will be in everyone’s interest if you are introduced as Mr. Wayne’s new secretary.” Fox said as he turned to Bruce who hadn’t heard that solution yet.

“Secretary?” Your tone came out more aggressive than you intended and you had to apologize for the outburst.

“Surely there must be something else we could say.”

“Nothing sounds believable, unless you wish to put a hold on the project, in which case Ms. Y/L/N will have moved in vain.” Fox shook his head before focusing on you again. “We will only introduce you as his secretary but you will be under no obligation to perform such tasks.”

“That’s what I’m for Y/N,” Alfred reassured you with his eyes and you were thankful for having him around, especially when a certain pair of eyes were looking through you.

“You will work from Mr. Wayne’s office at Wayne Enterprises which is only accessible by the people in this room, that way, you could start on the structure without fearing any interference. Should you need any consultation, you can always let me know and we could come here to work.” Fox assured you further with his plan which didn’t sound half bad as a matter of fact.

“You don’t have to make a decision now b-” Bruce wanted to make sure you understood that you weren’t being forced into anything but you surprised him with your response. 

“Okay.” You cut him off, nodding and grabbing the pen from the table while asking Mr. Fox where it was you needed to sign. As you finished the paperwork, Bruce was looking at Alfred, silently telling him that this may have been a big mistake. Alfred shook his head before smiling at Bruce to let him know that it would be fine. 

“This calls for a celebration. Alfred, get the 2011 Armand de Brignac,” Bruce stood up to shake your hands and you accepted it with trepidation, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed how rough his hands were. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday but that may have been because you were starstruck by the man. It was curious why someone like him, who probably never had to work a day in his life, had such rugged hands.

“Oh no thank you, I still have to take my stuff to the apartment.”

“You haven’t done that yet?” Bruce asked, his eyes shifting to the nervous tick with your fingers again and he decided to lay off a bit.

“You called while we were still on our way Master Wayne. Perhaps we could reserve that drink for a later time.” Alfred heavily suggested and you started between the men in the room feeling a little out of place. “Let me help with that then.” He said matter of factly before heading out to his room.

“That won’t be necessary sir I could move everything myself.”

“I’ll be down in five minutes.” He ignored your response and you could only look away from the older men in the room so you didn't visibly roll your eyes at him. When he did come down again, you were sure the universe was after your death. Amazing what a simple navy flannel and dark jeans could do. He’d rolled up his sleeves as well and it took every ounce of control to not drool over his smooth arms, although he did look like he bruised one a bit.

“Thank you Mr. Fox, I will see you tomorrow morning.” Bruce shook his hands, his smile dropping when he saw the same expression on Fox’s face his own butler had not a few hours ago. He immediately let go his hand and took the keys from Alfred, letting him know he’d be back within the hour. 

“Sir you really don’t have to,” you tried to reason with him again but he only opened the door of the car for you before going around to the driver seat.

“Since we’ll be seeing each other often, I think you can just call me Bruce.” He started the car and made his way through the estate towards the street, and you almost asked him how he knew where your apartment was but it was his butler that prepared it after all.

“I- I don’t think that would be professional of me sir,” you responded, avoiding his gaze and pretending to look at something on your phone. “I think we’re past professional, don’t you think?” That got your attention and when you faced him, you saw a dangerous glint in his eyes, one you were definitely reading into.

No, he wouldn’t. You were just an employee. 

“Fine, but only when we’re alone. I cannot be caught calling you by your first name in front of business partners and associates.”

“When we’re alone huh?” He asked, knowing fully well that your anxiety would spike but nothing brought him more joy than watching you fidget under his gaze. “That’s...that’s not what I meant.” You quickly responded and almost swore at him when he chuckled and told you he was just joking.

“Here we are.” He parked the car in a large garage and waited for you to get out before asking you what boxes he could start with. You were surprised with the area the apartment was in and you almost asked how much it could cost you but remembered the salary and knew it wouldn’t be an issue. You told him he could start with any box and chose to avoid paying attention to him when you saw the way his muscles flexed as he carried two boxes at a time. God damn how was he so fit? Why was he so fit? You focused on carrying as many boxes as you could but every once in a while, you’d catch a glimpse of the veins protruding on his arms as he exerted energy, almost tripping over the stairs when you saw his back as he bent down to place the boxes on the floor. Bruce pretended he didn’t see but he saw and turned quickly to hide the smile he couldn’t stop from taking over his features. 

An hour later, you’d placed all the boxes in the too-large apartment and thanked him profusely, apologizing that you had nothing to offer him to drink. 

“I honestly cannot thank you enough. For everything that you’ve done.”

“It was just a few boxes Y/N.”

“I meant about the rent as well Bruce.” You snarked back at him and had you not been busy with getting out a few books, you would have noticed the way his face flushed at the sound of his name. He almost asked you to say it again but somehow controlled himself, telling you it was nothing and that you had Alfred to thank. You chuckled when you noticed how uncomfortable he got because of you.

“Right, I’ll leave you to it then. Bedroom is at the end to the right and the bathroom is on the left. The room to the left is your office and uhhh, that should be it I think. I didn’t ask Alfred to get any furniture because I didn’t know what you preferred but there is a bed in there. Here’s the key to the apartment and I will see you bright and early tomorrow.” He handed you the key and stared at it for a few moments before heading towards the door. 

“Bruce,” you followed him quickly to ask for something and took a step back when he turned around instantly and looked at you like- like a...looks like Alfred was right, he was a hard man to read.

“Yes?” 

“I- who do I pay the rent to? Alfred didn’t tell me much about the place.”

“Well, you’re not paying for it actually. I, well I own the complex so you don’t have to.” You blinked at him in confusion before realizing you should probably have this conversation with a clear head. Bruce expected you to say something, anything, in return but when you remained silent, he nodded and headed out.

“Good night Y/N.”

“Night Bruce.” 

Bruce skidded down the stairs, not looking back at you once. He got in his car and sped off away from the apartment complex, swearing numerous times when he shifted and felt just how hard he was. A few minutes alone with you and he was acting like a teenage boy again. 

“Fuck,” he whispered as he drove through the streets, thanking whatever higher power existed when he saw the familiar symbol reflect on the nightsky. 

“About damn time.”

[talltree-writes]

I Didn’t Mean to Fall // Ineffable Husbands

Gabriel and Beelzebub try to pit Aziraphale and Crowley against each other by revealing some old information. 

Genre: fluff, a little angst, f2l, 

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (Ineffable Husbands) 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my docs since a few months after the show came out. I think I was going to try to write it all out in a formal style, but I like this better, honestly. There are most certainly many fics with some of these same tropes, but I just really like them. I have not read the book (yet!!), so if something is wrong in regards to the written canon, I’m very sorry. 

-Basically Gabriel has seen what’s going on  and he’s here to sow discord for C/A

-Aziraphale is in his bookshop organizing his shelf of first edition poetry books

-In comes gabriel, smug little grin on his face

-Obviously he startles Zira because baby boy is no longer under Heaven’s thumb and doesn’t expect a visit from the archangel 

-“Aziraphale! So good to see you.”

-Zira just frowns at him because he knows the opposite to be true

-Gabriel just goes on

-He’s here to stir up trouble

-“Listen, why don’t we talk in the back, we have some private things to discuss”

-He grips Zira’s shoulder a little to hard in order to tell him it’s non-negotiable

-They get to the back and the smirk becomes a hard grin

-“I hear you and the demon Crowley have been getting pretty cozy”

-Zira, stunned, can only think ‘We successfully hid our friendship for 6000 years and they only find out once we no longer work for them?’

-But he says

-“Crowley is a friend, yes” 

-There’s no point in hiding it, after all, both Gabe and Beezlebub saw them at that air base

-Gabriel’s smile falters for a split second

-He wasn’t expecting that

-But he can work with it

-“A friend, really?” 

-He levels a gaze at the other angel 

-Zira’s not about to admit it right then and there,

-So he looks at Gabe likes he’s lost it and says yes

-“There have been whispers, Aziraphale, that there is much more between you and the Fallen… that, perhaps, you’re even in love with Crowley” 

-Aziraphale’s heart drops into his stomach

-‘How could he know? He hadn’t told anyone, had never written it down, had never even expressed anything to Crowley?’

-“I am not in love with Crowley.”

-Gabe raises an eyebrow

-“If you say so.”

-He shrugs and starts for the door. 

-But then turns around to look at the barely-concealing-his-shock angel

-“You know, She always intended for you two to be together.”

-Aziraphale became confused. Very few angels had intended mates, it was one of the few things She allowed them to choose for themselves. 

-She usually only had intended mates for...archangels  

-Gabriel took advantage of the moment of confusion 

-“Oh? He hasn’t told you who he was before the fall?” 

-Aziraphale’s mind flashed through all of the times he had brought the subject of the Fall up, and Crowley had gotten a distant look and changed the subject, or said “I didn’t mean to fall” or brushed it off

-Then he thought of the few clues that Crowley had given him over the years. One in particular stook out. Alpha Centauri.

-He hadn’t made the connection when Crowley was screaming it at him (to be fair, they were in quite the stressful situation, and were both focussing on the Antichrist) 

-She wouldn’t have entrusted the creation of an entire system to just any angel 

-Only an archangel would hold that power

-There were only two archangels who fell

-Lucifer, obviously, and…

-Raphael

-Raphael, who was never mentioned again after the fall

-Raphael, who’s loss hurt almost as much as Lucifer’s 

-Raphael, who had never spoken out against Her

-‘I didn’t mean to fall’... 

-Aziraphale’s face lights up with recognition 

-Gabriel sees this

-“I could never figure out why he Fell. Perhaps it was all apart of your beloved ineffable plan”

-Shoots a final grin

-And leaves Zira to his thoughts 

-Meanwhile 

-Unbeknownst to Crowley or Zira, Gabriel had gone to Beezlebub, who was also salty about being shown up by Crowley, and colluded together to throw them off and pit them against each other

-Crowley has a recording of Much Ado about Nothing playing as he reads along

-(He’s trying to surprise Zira with some knowledge and quotes and the last time he’d seen/heard anything pertaining to it was when the bard himself was alive)

-The recording scratches to a stop

-“Crowley…”

-Crowley froze, he hadn’t heard that voice since the Apocalypse that wasn’t

-Feigns nonchalance 

-“Beelzebub! To what do I owe the displeasure?”

-He doesn’t work for Hell anymore-- he doesn’t have to refer to anyone as Lord -unless he wants to 

-“I have heard rumors of you… consorting… with the Angel” 

-Crowley knows exactly what angel they’re talking about 

-(obviously, it’s his angel)

-“Which angel would that be exactly? I’m told Heaven has a whole host of them.”

-“The angel Aziraphale, of course.”

-“Oh that angel! No, I’m afraid we see each other as little as possible. Really only meet to discuss our mutual operative”

-“Are you denying that you see each other every day?” 

-Crowley didn’t know how or why they kept an eye on them. He thought that they would keep even less surveillance on them as they were no longer agents of Heaven or Hell. Apparently he was wrong

-“Our mutual operative has been having issues lately. We’ve been discussing, at length, whether or not the operative is worth keeping on either side. The goody-two shoes, of course, thinks we should, since the guy is such an imbecile that he maintains a perfect level of good and evil. I, obviously, no longer see the point in it, as we no longer work for either side. The sooner we dismiss him, the sooner we can go our separate ways.” 

-It hurts to refer to his angel as anything other than absolutely wonderful or to even pretend that every moment he spends with Zira wasn’t the most fulfilling thing in his life since… well, since he became a demon. 

-Beelzebub, knowing the truth, doesn’t buy it. 

-“Drop the act, traitor. Both sides know of your little friendship. I just thought you should know that the angel is being informed of your… former self as we speak.” 

-Crowley’s brain, and therefore, his mouth, stopped working

-He had spent so long attempting to keep his former identity concealed for so long. 

-He had never met his intended mate, and even though he knew he loved Aziraphale, he didn’t know whether or not his meeting Zira was apart of the Ineffable Plan, or just superb luck

-Then, he realized something Beelzebub said

-“Have you been in contact with the other side?”

-Beelzebub goes silent. Crowley is afraid he had disconnected the conversation

-He forged on anyway 

-“You have, haven’t you? I’d wager you’ve been in contact with the head halo himself. Tell me, have you told Gabriel of your former identity? I’m sure he’d love to hear that his intended is not only fallen, but, in fact, the prince of hell, themself.”

-When there was no response, instead the voices from the play filtering through his speakers, he knew the other demon had heard him. And he was definitely scared.

-Nonetheless, Crowley was also terrified. If Aziraphale knew, it could change how the angel thinks of him. An archangel? Fallen? It was practically unheard of. Sure, Lucifer himself had fallen, but no other Archangel had uttered any kind of alliance to their brother.

-His own falling had been a separate, private affair. He had approached God Herself (back when God still held audiences with her children instead of sending them straight to the Metatron), and innocently brought his questions before her. When he could bring himself to think about the occasion, he thought he recalled an air of regret and sadness in Her throne room. Almost as if She didn’t want to make him fall. Though, he supposed She’d be loathe to see any  of her creations become her enemies.

-Truth be told, he’d never understood why he fell. His questions had never been drastic, and not nearly to the extent She allowed Lucifer’s to get to. But perhaps any questions were grounds to fall after Lucifer’s rebellion

-At any rate, he had to get to the bookshop to explain everything to Aziraphale. His musings on Her decisions could wait until his next drunken pity party 

-He grabbed his jacket and miracles himself into the Bentley

-He speeds his way through London to the Soho-based bookshop. The lights on the first floor were dark, and for a second, he thought that Zira was out and about. 

-He parks around the corner anyway and got out to walk to the front door. He had no idea if Gabriel was still there

-He got his answer when he spotted the front door open. He went back around the corner and peeked to see a smug looking Gabriel step out of the shop

-Figuring both sides already knew, and they therefore had nothing to lose, he approached his former brother

-“Gabe! What a coincidence to run into you! I assume you’ve just come from telling Aziraphale my former identity. I’m sure you can imagine how grateful I am for sharing an incredibly personal piece of information with someone else without my permission. But how could I return the favor? Hmm… Did you ever meet your intended?”

-Gabriel froze

-Crowley continues

-“No, I suppose you didn’t. After all, your ceremony came after the Fall. Suppose they had to cancel it, then. Must have sucked, knowing your mate fell, but not knowing who they were. Almost as much as never knowing who your mate was in the first place. I, of course, knew, because I told them. But you already know this, y’know, since you were supposed to tell mine. Now that you’ve revealed information that was truly none of your business, I shall return the favor. I assume neither Michael, nor Uriel, have been ballsy enough to tell you who your mate is.”

-He didn’t receive an answer, but continued anyway.

-“You are familiar, of course, with our mutual companion, Beelzebub.”

-Silence

-“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to finally know who your mate is. Now if you would please fuck off and stay out of our lives, we won’t meddle in the matters of heaven and hell- especially your love lives.” 

-He pushes past his former brother into the shop. 

-“Angel?”

-No response 

-He heads into the back 

-“Angel?”

-He finds Aziraphale sitting, pensively staring at the wall 

-“...Angel…?”

-“Is it true?”

-Crowley knew what he was talking about, there was no use beating around the bush 

-“Yes”

-“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Things could have been so much different. Were you ever going to tell me?”

-Aziraphale looks up with a pained look 

-Crowley takes a deep breath 

-“Eventually… when I accepted what happened.”

-“It’s been 6000 years! Didn’t you think I deserved to know I was your intended?!”

-That stopped Crowley in his tracks. 

-“You- you’re my intended?” 

-His eyes are blown wide with shock

-Now Zira is confused

-“Yes… I thought that’s what we were talking about. You didn’t know either?”

-“Angel… I thought we were talking about me. I never found out who my intended was. I mean, I had hoped it was you, but I was never sure.” 

-“How did Gabriel know?”

-“He was assigned to tell you.”

-Zira’s face scrunched up.

-“I can’t imagine Gabriel being the deliverer of such happy news.”

-“He wasn’t always such an emotionless prick. I’m afraid losing one’s intended in the Fall is rather jarring to an angel. And a demon, to be honest. Beelzebub hasn’t been the same since they fell.”

-“Were they someone’s intended?” 

-“Believe it or not, they were Gabriel’s. Obviously, their name wasn’t Beelzebub, but Anabiel and Gabriel were supposed to be very happy together, in fact every archangel was very happy with their intended until they fell. Only Lucifer, Gabriel and myself were left to have our intended ceremonies.”

-Aziraphale got a thoughtful look 

-“Don’t you think it’s odd that half of every intended couple fell?”

-Crowley shrugged

-“I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I can’t come up with anything concrete.” 

-Zira muses for a second. 

-“It’s not worth thinking about, Angel. It all depends on several hypotheticals of what was happening in Her brain this whole time. Something neither of us are privy to.”

-“No, I suppose you’re right, my dear. Besides, I think other matters are slightly more pressing.” 

-Crowley raised an eyebrow at his angel

-Who rose 

-“What matters, Angel?”

-“The matter of our relationship, my dear, and how it progresses from here.”

-“...Oh”

-Soft BoiTM becomes super anxious 

-“Of course, if you would like to remain friends, that is okay. I do vaguely remember some archangels who kept their relationships platonic, and if that is what you wish, I will gladly-”

-Crowley stands up quite quickly and hugs his angel 

-“Aziraphale, I would like nothing more than to create a life with you, together as mates. Romantic mates.” 

-When Aziraphale’s smile lit up the entire room (literally, he was allowing some of his ethereal form to slip through the veil), Crowley had to shield his eyes

-But when the light dimmed (with a sheepish look from the still very excited Aziraphale), Crowley allowed a genuine smile to alight onto his face

-Now, here’s the thing about Crowley and smiling

-Aziraphale can count on two hands the amount of times he has seen a genuine smile when Crowley was sober

-He smirked, or scowled, sometimes he would let a grin pass

-But rarely would he truly, genuinely, smile

-But this was the best one Zira had ever seen in all of his 6000+ years

[greencrusader13]

All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 11 - Shootouts and Sand

So I checked when I last uploaded a chapter of this, and it’s nearly been a whole year. Talk about writer’s block! I appreciate everyone’s patience with me in getting a new chapter out. With all the craziness in the world I can’t promise a regular schedule for uploading, but I will do my best.

Without further ado, let’s just back into the adventure!

It had only taken Cirak a few minutes to determine that he unequivocally hated this planet. There was no breeze here; the desert air was still. The sun bore down on them with unrelenting heat, and though he felt that warmth was better than the cold it didn’t change the aggression that the heat possessed here. He wasn’t fully sure how the citizens of Tatooine kept themselves from putting blaster bolts in their head just from living here. Maybe the sun had zapped all of the intelligence from the moisture farmers’ minds.

Tatooine was a planet rife with cheats, smugglers, and swindlers of all kinds; truly a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Cirak was just surprised they hadn’t come here sooner. There seemed to be little shortage of potential work, and he was pretty sure that he could fire his blaster in any direction and hit someone with a bounty on their head. It was like Nar Shaddaa, but without the lights, duller clubs, and half of the fun. He had to give any fugitive credit if they chose this damned planet as their getaway destination: they really did not want anyone to find them.

Traveling with Taelros over the past several years had taken him to numerous planets, each with their own biome and flavor. They never stayed anywhere for very long – only for the duration of the job – before taking off again. Most of their time was spent on Taelros’ ship, The Reaper’s Prophet, with the rest of his crew, but even those faces changed from time-to-time. It was best to not expect consistency of any kind, not go looking for any sort of home.

His mentor had wasted little time acclimating Cirak to the bounty hunter’s lifestyle. Within a week of meeting the man he’d been given a blaster and some armor that was, at best, passable, before being thrown into the fire alongside Taelros himself. It wasn’t until later that he started learning more about the bounty hunter who’d taken him under his wing. Republic Special Forces Division, once upon a time, until he’d been dishonorably discharged from their ranks five years before meeting Cirak. He’d never asked Tael about the incident that purged him from service, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Tael had taught him how to survive as a bounty hunter, and the key philosophies of the career. Most importantly, he’d taught him the one philosophy that guided them above all others: somewhere, in some part of the galaxy, some shmuck was looking to part with their credits to have someone else dead.

In their case, however, that schmuck was some Imperial official, probably reclining on a luxury chair back in some high rise on Dromund Kaas, probably going through some bureaucratic nonsense while sipping on some fancy wine. Definitely someone Cirak would punch if given half the chance. He’d looked like the stuffy type on the holocom, what with his pencil mustache and balding head only somewhat obscured by his officer’s cap. Taelros had done most of the talking, but Cirak had assigned himself all of the judging. He’d watched in silence as his mentor negotiated their way into a wild bantha chase that, ultimately, had led them here.

Their mark, as explained to them, was a former Imp deserter-turned-raider and part-time treasure hunter named Lenurd Woth. After bailing on his assignment he’d given out the locations to several ordinances to the highest bidder, including the Black Sun, which had earned him a sizeable sum of credits from his buyers and malcontent from his former allies. He’d then vanished, only to resurface on Tatooine with a new yacht, guards under his employ, and a profession scamming the local settlers out of credits with whatever junk he’d find out in the wastes.

Killing him would be no trouble at all for the Empire, considering their vast resources. As much as Mr. Woth wanted to hide, he’d done a poor job of it with the ruckus he’d caused on his way out the door, and finding him had been relatively simple, as was tracking his routines. They could’ve dropped in an agent, put a dart in Woth’s neck, and that would be that, except for one simple reason: Woth wasn’t worth their time, not with a war going on. He was, however, worth sending a message about, hence the bounty hunters and the preference for being put in carbonite rather than the ground. Hence being on this blasted hot planet.

At least there’d be credits at the end of it all. That was the one and only solace Cirak could take on this hell planet.

Cirak lay on his stomach flat against the rise of a dune, binoculars raised as he searched the glistening sand for any signs of Woth’s skiff. The mark would be returning from treasure hunting any minute now, far from the defenses of his yacht. He and Taelros had spent the past hour planting ionic charges in the ground. Once he drove over it, Woth’s skiff would come to a halt; he’d be flat-footed and easy to take down. Using thermal or kinetic explosives would’ve made the job far simpler, but, unfortunately, he wasn’t wanted dead. Sadly, there would be no big boom.

With a sigh he pressed the binoculars into the sand. That is, however, if Woth ever showed up.

“Buck up kid,” Taelros said, as if sensing Cirak’s discontent. “Not every day we get asked by someone to go hunting for the Empire. Even less often that they ask us to go after one of their own.”

“And I’m gonna die of boredom and heat exhaustion if he doesn’t show soon.”

“You’re a bit of a whiny little thing today aren’t you?”

He kicked the ground, forming a divot with the toe of his boot. “I don’t like sand,” Cirak grumbled, baring his teeth. “It’s coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets ev-”

“Kid if I have to hear you wax philosophical about sand I’m going to lose my mind. Nobody cares about your whining.”

“Fine. Kriff it, whatever.” Cirak raised his binoculars again. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand. Sand was catching in his face fur, particularly his moustache.

It was a truly immaculate moustache. He’d begun growing it about a year into his life as a bounty hunter, but it hadn’t fully formed until a few more years after that. Now it was perfect: two strands of thin-but-bushy grey hair fell from both sides of his upper lip, framing his face in an edged way. The best bounty hunters had facial hair if they could grow it, or at least that’s what he’d learned from watching holovids in the early days.

Just as Cirak was about to prod Taelros about the veracity of the intel they’d received, a shimmer on the horizon stole his attention. He ducked against the sand dune, clasping the ion detonator in one hand while his other raised the binoculars once more. Three skiffs – not one – sped closer to them, all three mounted with a pair of turrets meant to rend metal from ships, and there was a man stationed at each one of them. Woth was nowhere to be seen.

“Think someone tipped them off?” Cirak asked.

“Looks that way. Plan hasn’t changed though. Just more blaster fire.”

“We’re charging extra for this.”

“Most definitely.”

Despite the increase in protection, Woth’s security didn’t appear as though they knew of Cirak and Taelros specifically. The sentries scanned the sands, but it was an aimless search, a general kind. Cirak recognized it well from the few times he’d been hired for security detail by overly-paranoid aristocrats fearing assassination attempts. They still didn’t know about them, and as such, they were heading right into their trap.

Cirak popped the lid off the detonator as the skiffs neared the ion charges.

“On my count Cirak,” Taelros said, raising three fingers. “Three…”

His thumb hovered over the red button. Red buttons were the best, especially when explosions followed.

“Two…”

The skiffs drew closer, their engines growing ever louder.”

“One…”

They were right over the charges.

“Now.”

Cirak clenched the detonator and slammed his thumb downwards onto the button. Instead of an ionic burst, there was nothing. The motors hummed, still approaching in what now felt like a lackadaisical speed. Cirak pressed the button again. Then a third time. Still nothing. He shook the detonator as though the resulting ionic burst was hiding somewhere within and simply needed dislodged. It wasn’t, because that’s not how detonations work.

Taelros sighed, running his hand down his face and dragging his features along with it. “Cirak, did you arm the charges when you planted them?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“It’s not a stupid question if it makes the most sense.”

“Of course I armed them! They’re live!”

“Then why haven’t I seen any-”

The shrill sound of a singular round of blaster fire cut through the air, and Cirak looked up just in time to see it strike the engine of the outmost skiff. The vehicle burst into flame as shrapnel scattered across the desert sands. Without slowing momentum the wreckage veered into the center skiff, which in turn rotated violently into a collision with the third. In the distance he could hear shouting as panicked scoundrels fought to wrest control back from the increasingly devastating situation in what few seconds they were afforded. Both remaining skiffs flipped, their repulsor engines dying simultaneously and throwing their passengers in various directions before landing in separate dunes. Some flew higher than others, and, Cirak realized, had he been prepared it would’ve made for excellent skeet practice.

He glanced over at Taelros. His mentor looked equally shocked and no less amused. “Well,” Cirak said, storing his binoculars. “I’m not about to look a prize bantha in the mouth. Let’s clean up the security and then deal with poor Lenurd.” He unholstered his twin blasters – among them his father’s old holdout blaster (which, to be fair, he’d now possessed far longer than his father ever had) – and then bound over the dune.

Woth’s scattered retinue was still climbing to their feet as Cirak approached. He twirled his blasters patiently while examining them. For a former Imp he sure employed several aliens. Most Imps only tolerated Chiss. Maybe he found them useful, relatively cheap labor when he couldn’t otherwise afford selectivity. He shrugged at the thought. It really didn’t matter either which way.

From the corner of his eye he saw Taelros heading for the other downed skiff. Time to go to work, he thought. Cirak cleared his throat, aiming his blasters at the wreckage survivors. “Attention everyone having a bad day. We are just after your boss Lenurd Woth. Hand him over, and it’ll be less ammo I have to waste wasting you. There’s no point in dying for him; all you’ll do is increase my paycheck for resistance fees.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than one of the mercenaries closest to the skiff dove for his rifle several paces away. Cirak fired before the man could so much as take aim. The bolt struck him square in the chest, and he fell limp.

“Not smart,” he chided. “What’ll it be for the rest of you boys?”

Death, apparently. Viewing numbers superior to having a blaster trained on them, the remainder of the mercenaries all simultaneously reached for their weapons. It was a common fallacy, thinking that surely they would be the lucky one who got the shot off and ended the threat. No one ever was. Some were faster than others to their credit, actually getting their blasters from their holsters before Cirak’s fire reached them and ended their lives.

He holstered his blasters as the sounds of combat continued from the other side of the sand dune. “He’s not in this one Tael!” Cirak yelled, turning towards the presumed sound of Taelros’ slaughtering. “Any luck over-”

Sudden movement caught his attention, and he only had a mere moment to throw himself prone before an axeblade swung where his head had been. Cirak flipped onto his back. A gamorrean stood over him, axe raised for a second strike. He rolled to the side as his assailant hacked at the sand, pushed himself to his feet, and somersaulted past him. The gamorrean squealed, spit and sweat running down its piggish mouth.

Cirak drew, managing to fire off a single shot into the gamorrean’s chest, but the blast did little when compared to its size and strength. It was a strength Cirak was swiftly reacquainted up close. A backhanded slap sent Cirak sprawling backwards, loosing his blaster from his grip. His ears rang. The image of the gamorrean blurred from heat and pain as Cirak lifted his head.

Another blaster fire rang out, knocking the raised axe free. The pig-man made a sound that could only be described as a surprised snort, head swiveling in the direction of the shot. It was just enough time for Cirak to draw his other blaster, aim, and fire two clean shots into its head. The gamorrean fell backwards, sending a burst of sand skywards.

A blur of red streaked past from overhead, touching down hard in the sand. Cirak wiped at his eyes as he surveyed his savior. The figure stood covered from head-to-toe in brilliant scarlet armor that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. His helmet, which obscured every aspect of his face, had two pincers that met just at the bottom of his black T-shaped visor. It was a unique touch, but Cirak still recognized the style, the symbology of the pieces. It almost made him want to shoot anyways.

The man was a Mando.

Mandalorians were far from uncommon in the bounty hunting business, but common encounters with them did little to mitigate Cirak’s instinctual hatred of those people. Centuries ago they’d invaded his species’ homeworld, partly for sport and partly for retribution for losses experienced in wars prior, and proceeded to butcher or enslave as many cathar as they could manage. It had led to the near-extinction of his people.

Cirak felt he had a birthright to feel bitter.

The Mandalorian in front of him, however, did not seemed particularly concerned about possible grievances pertaining to genocide, and approached him with an outstretched hand. Cirak slapped it away. “I’m fine,” he said. He pushed himself to his feet and recovered his dropped blaster, dusting sand from it.

Although he couldn’t see his face, Cirak got the sense that the Mandalorian was giving him the expression of someone who had just been slapped. “Your man is over this way,” the Mandalorian said coldly. The rocket booster on his back ignited, and he took to the air once again before disappearing beyond the opposite sand dune.

Cirak grumbled to himself before following suit. He found Taelros beyond the dune, leaning against a flaming skiff while deep in conversation with another human man; a fellow bounty hunter from what Cirak could tell of his armor and weaponry. A carbonite slate of some poor soul – probably Woth – floated on a transportation bed beside him, which Taelros kept a steady hand on. The Mando had landed next to this unknown person, arms folded in what Cirak only figured was silent judgment of the situation.

Taelros regarded Cirak as he drew closer. “Ah, see, this is the kid I was telling you about. Braden, this is Cirak Kiht, my protégé. Cirak, this is Braden. He’s an old friend of mine.”

Cirak looked him over. Taelros and his friend seemed roughly the same age, though Braden possessed a more weathered face with fewer scars. His head had been shaved bald, and contrary to Cirak’s personal beliefs regarding bounty hunting he had no facial hair. His suit of armor was that of Golan Arms make, specifically designed with survivability in mind and able to absorb all but the most powerful of blaster fire. It didn’t come cheap.

Braden extended his hand, which Cirak then shook. “I was curious to see how you’d handle a change of plans and if Tael here hadn’t dulled too much with age. You didn’t disappoint.”

“Well, it isn’t the first time one of our plans have gone sideways,” Cirak said, “Usually they’re his that do.”

“Yeah, shut up kid, or I might just ask Braden here to swap protégés.” Taelros snapped his fingers. “Right, your protégé here. What’s his name again? You said it in passing.”

Braden curtly nodded towards the Mandalorian. “This is Dekon of Clan Arrun. One hell of a shot, great merc. Been traveling with him for a couple years now.”

Cirak glowered at Dekon and moved closer to Taelros’ side. “Your man seems rather emotional Taelros. It’s hardly a beneficial trait in this profession,” Dekon said, insultingly matter-of-fact.

“Mando scum tend to have that affect on me. Funny how genocide does that to people.”

“Insult my people again and I’ll drop your numbers by one,” Dekon snapped.

Snarling, Cirak went for his blaster, but Dekon was faster, having his own drawn and in Cirak’s face. Shock gripped him. He hadn’t been outdrawn since he was first learning how. “I wouldn’t,” Dekon said coldly.

Taelros forced his way between them, lowering Dekon’s blaster with one hand while restraining Cirak’s wrist with his other. “Boys, boys, cultural histories aside there is a bigger picture here that we need to focus on. Cirak, can you play nice with the Mando for a little bit?” Cirak glared at Dekon, anger still hot on his ears and face, but he nodded all the same. “Good! Now let’s get the four of us to a cantina. Braden said he wants to team up for a job, and I think you’re gonna want to hear this.”

[thecorteztwins]

And now for this week’s installment of Alt-Marauders stuff! Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes and @littlemeangreen since I know you guys like it. This week it’s: “Building Character” - Shinobi/Sebastian “Daddy’s Girl” -Manon/Sebastian “Flames” - Pyro/Alice “First Resort” - Sebastian/Haven “Human” -Haven/Madelyne

“BUILDING CHARACTER” (Warning: References to child abuse, and no apologies for it) It was evening at Blackstone, and its occupants were there for the first time in two weeks spent seafaring. “I had my reservations about giving you another chance,” Sebastian admitted, standing by the sitting room window, looking out over his domain, “But you’ve done well.” Shinobi hated himself for the pride and happiness that flooded through him at his father’s words. He was still so weak, so dependent on this man’s approval, the same man he hated so much, the man that MADE him like this. “We’ve done well,” he replied in apparent calm, “We’ve not attempted to kill each other, for instance.” His father turned his head and grinned at him, “Oh, I’m sure you have something up your sleeve for me sooner or later. And of course, I’m prepared for when you do.” “I thought about it,” Shinobi admitted matter-of-factually, “But what would it even matter now? You’d just come back. “I did before Krakoa. So did you. Twice, I believe,” Sebastian moved from the window and sat down in the chair across from his son now, “I used to think Shaws were just exceptionally hardy stock, but I’ve learned it seems to be a strange feature of mutants as a species.” “Yet you still worry I’ll off you?” Another smile from Sebastian, almost indulgent, “Oh, I’m not worried. I’m actually rather eager to see how you try to get around the resurrection issue. Trap me somewhere, perhaps, but ensure that I won’t starve or suffocate wherever I am? You were never a bright boy, Shinobi, and I’m sure your lifestyle choices haven’t helped with that---not that I’m judging you, we all have our wild oats to sow---but I’m hoping this new obstacle will start stimulating whatever brain cells you have left. Adversity builds character, didn’t I always tell you that?” “Yeah, mostly after you hit me.” In most families there would be an awkward silence after that. Shinobi was in fact hoping for it, hoping for any sign of shame in his father. Of course he didn’t get it. Sebastian reacted as if Shinobi had said ‘after you took me to a baseball game’ or anything else innocuous and normal in the life of an average father and son...whatever that was. Shinobi only had ideas from television. Although it seemed some stuff his dad did was normal, if Homer choking the life out of Bart on the regular was any indication of standard reality. “Exactly. You had to find some way to stop me from doing that, ideally by improving yourself so I would no longer have reason, though I’d have settled for almost anything else after a certain point so long as it worked,” said Sebastian. Then his tone turned regretful...but not for the reasons a normal person would, “You never did though. I’ve given up on very little in my life, Shinobi, but...” “But you gave up on pummeling me.” “I couldn’t shape you into something better. I realize that now. Only you can do that. And look? Now you are.” “Oh right you were beating me for MY SAKE,” said Shinobi, the bitter venom he felt inside finally beginning to seep out into his now-biting tone. “Yes, but also you just irritated me,” Sebastian said, and there was no bitterness in his, no venom, and no shame, “People seldom have a single motive, even a simple man such as I.” “Simple?” Shinobi did not expect his father to describe himself in such a word. “I never had grand ideals of Xavier and Erik, never wanted to herd an entire planet into my way of thinking. I was only ever concerned with what anyone should be---my own success. Which I achieved. Whereas their dreams are still unrealized, for all their efforts and claims.” “So why care about my success then?” Shinobi asked. And it was a good question, for it gave his father pause. A long pause. Shinobi knew that look on his father’s face---his father was thinking, and hard. And he wasn’t coming to an answer quickly either. “I can’t say it’s affection,” Sebastian finally answered, “You and I both know what a ridiculous notion that would be. Maybe the hope you’d be useful to me, but...” He trailed off, sounding doubtful. Shinobi wished it was that though, because being useful to his father would imply he had worth, his father needed him, the man he’d idolized---jeesus it made him choke even to think of that---would need him. Shinobi wanted that. “...but I doubt that, I’ve never relied on anyone, you know me,” Sebastian picked up again, “I’d rather have an ally I can cut ties with easily with need be, not someone so attached to me as a son. Grooming children as tools was always more Emma’s practice; I never had the patience for it, or the time. I suppose there is some kind of personal attachment--” Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck did he dare hope no he must be lying he must be “---to the notion of legacy. Krakoa or not, I’m not going to live forever, and I’d like what I’ve accomplished to pass into hands related to my own, as illogical and sentimental as nepotism is. But I refuse for them to be unworthy of it.” Shinobi’s hopes sunk back down their proper place. Of course. Of course that was it. His money, his business, his power base---those were what he cared about. that was his child, his real child, and he was just looking for someone with his DNA to care for it after his death. Well, you know what? “I’m going to be,” Shinobi said. And it wasn’t a promise. It was a threat. And his father knew that. And it made him smile. *** “DADDY’S GIRL” (Warning: Casual use of mind control/memory manipulation and no one treating it as bad.) It was a bad situation. The spies sent to Krakoa, spies who were mutants but still owed their allegiances to the American, had been caught. And caught by the Marauders, no less. Negotiations were underway for their safe return, but unfortunately, the Council member they were speaking to was Sebastian Shaw. And he was not in a forgiving mood. ”They’ve already been telepathically wiped, of course,” he said over the phone to the negotiator, “So it’s no matter to us if we give them back to you or not. But, why should we? They are Krakoan citizens. Even if they committed to that citizenship with false intentions, they still are OUR people, and they have committed treason. And you know what the traditional punishment for that is...” ”Please, Mr. Shaw, see reason!” the negotiator pleaded on the other end of the phone in the White House office. “They are American citizens as well, and employees of the American government! Any action against them will be seen as an act of hostility!” ”And sending them into our midst was NOT an act of hostility?” Shaw returned very calmly, but very dangerously. It was a tone that made the negotiator think very, very carefully about what his next words would be. And then he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see one of the Marauders, who were overseeing the negotiations going on. After the spies had been caught on Krakoa, they’d come IMMEDIATELY to make sure that no reinforcements would be sent. It just went to show how ruthless mutants were, that they would send CHILDREN on a team like that. In this case, a little girl, with pigtails and Wednesday Addams dress. She’d have been adorable, if not for her ghostly albinistic coloring and strange eyes. “Put me on!”  she chirped, “He will listen to me, I’m his daughter!” The negotiator stared at her. Well, he was all out of ideas, so... “Okay, Mr. Shaw? Your daughter is here, she’d like to speak to you.” “My what?” “There’s a little girl here,” the negotiator explained, hoping the kid hadn’t just tricked him into losing several lives, “She says you’re her father.” There was a sigh from Shaw’s end, “Well, shes probably right. It’s hardly the time, but fine, put her on.” The negotiator passed the child the phone while her brother giggled in the background, and in Krakoan, she piped, “Hello Mr. Shaw! Manon to the rescue!” “Oh, it’s you,” he said flatly. “Who else did you think it would be?” “Well, when someone randomly claims to be my child, they usually ar---I mean, nevermind, what is it? This is important, you know.” ”I think you should let the spies go, Mr. Shaw.” ”You don’t understand what you’re talking about, and you’re in enough trouble for following the crew through the portal as it is. Put the man back on.” ”But Mr. Shaw, I have a plan!” The negotiator could not understand Krakoan, but he did understand tone, and he could hear the irritation in Shaw’s voice. He grabbed the phone away from her and apologized, ”I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, she--” ”THAT’S MY PAPA!” Manon shrieked in English, and then yelled something in Krakoan, something Shaw could hear. ”Put MY DAUGHTER back on THIS INSTANT!” Shaw roared at the negotiator, who immediately complied. “Manon?” “I am running the show now, Mr. Shaw!” she said proudly. ”Excellent. Now, the first part of your idea is splendid. Here’s what I want you to do for the second...” They talked a little more, and it sounded much more pleasant to the negotiator, he even heard Mr. Shaw LAUGH, though there was something...devious...in the girl’s undertone he didn’t care for. When she said bye-bye and passed the phone back to him, she smiled...and so did he. Pocketing the phone, he turned back to the other two Marauders who were observing, Pyro and Shinobi. ”Well gentlemen, thank you so much for helping sort that out. I’ll take you to see who you need now.” Pyro and Shinobi looked at each other, and behind the negotiator’s back, Manon winked at them and put a finger to her white lips. ”Sure,” said Shinobi, unsure what was going on. ”Lead on, mate,” said Pyro, likewise baffled but playing along. The negotiator lead them to a room of other men, and after a few moments with Manon---in which she shook all their hands, with Maxime’s empathy POWERS overriding their natural suspicions at doing so--they all bid the Marauders farewell and told them to have a nice day and that it was so nice that Krakoan/American relationships were going so well. ”Alright,” said Pyro as they stepped out of the White House and headed for the nearest portal in DC, “What’d old Shaw make you do, you little witch?” ”Excusez-moi!” said Manon in mock-offense, “I made up half the idea! The first half at that!” ”Yeah but what WAS it?!” Shinobi urged. ”Well, I told Mr. Shaw, why don’t I just make the man on the phone FORGET that we captured the American spies, yes?” Manon explained, “And he said that was a SPLENDID idea, and he said that I should do it, and make him think that we were here about something else, and that he was supposed to take us to everyone else who knew the spies had been captured, and fix their memories too. And then when we get back, he will have me change the memories of the spies themselves, so they will go home with bad information!” ”Holy shit,” said Pyro. ”Damn,” said Shinobi, “Maybe you really ARE his kid!” The twins just giggled. *** “FLAMES”       “Hey, Mr. Allerdyce? Can I bother you?” Pyro looked up from his laptop to see Alice in the doorway. “Sure, love. What’s troubling you?” he said automatically, then regretted that choice of words. If Alice had trouble he’d push her towards Haven or Maddie, they’d be much better choices for her to talk to. “I uh...I wanted some advice,” she said, stepping shyly in. Oh no. “About?” “Writing” His ears perked up and his eyes got wide, “Well why didn’t you say so! Come on and sit down love, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Pyro sounded delighted, and he was. People seemed to forget that writing was his real passion, not being a super-criminal or a jerk who burned things. Those were fun but they weren’t his CALLING. Alice sat nervously, “You’re a professional so I thought you’d be best to ask. “Yeah, go ahead, anything,” Pyro urged her. He felt very important right now. “Can you help me not write a Mary Sue?” “...a what?” The wind went out of his sails suddenly. He had no idea what she was talking about. “You know. A Mary Sue.” “I uh, I don’t know, actually.” “A bad character.” “Ohhh.” Alright, this he could do.  “Okay, well first thing is first, gotta be three dimensional, you know? People are people, even the evil patriarch in the gloomy mansion with designs on our gorgeous heroine’s fortune and her body! Second thing is give ‘em a distinct voice when they talk, the wandering wastrel with a heart of gold shouldn’t talk the same way as the well-brought up but dull and dunderheaded fiancee, and---” He went on, listing each of his tricks of the trade out on his long spindly fingers, then more. “That help?” he asked brightly when he had, for the moment, finished. Oh but he could talk about this all day! “I uh...can you tell me more about writing a good female lead? I know not to make her too overpowered, or too beautiful, and not to give her a tragic past or too many love interests or too many coincidences, but--” “WHAT?!” Pyro roared, nearly jumping out of his seat, “Who told you THAT?!” “The internet,” she said meekly, drawing back. “Well it’s wrong, dead wrong! Blimey, you just described half my most popular female leads! The hell kind of advice is that, don’t make her too beautiful or powerful or too many love interests?! Fuck that shit, love, if I’d followed that garbage I’d never have published a penny’s worth.” “So...do do it?” St. John, shrugged, “Do what you want, Alice. I write Gothic romance because I love it. Heaving bosoms, dramatic sighs, improbable coincidences, and tragic pasts for everybody! And I know my readers love it. They tell me so. Got panned hard by the critics and “real” writers but who doesn’t, eh? You can’t satisfy them but you can sure make someody’s day with a good harlequin. But between you and me, I wasn’t even writing for my readers anyway, even though I love ‘em.” “You were writing for you?” Alice was Internet-savvy enough to know the term Mary sue, so she also knew the adage about writing for yourself. But hearing it from a REAL writer gave it more weight. “Damn right! I give my readers what they want but only when it’s what I want. And I want trashy drama and beautiful heroines with six different walking six-packs fighting for her her hand in marriage!” “And...nobody hates you for it?” Well, like I said, critics weren’t too kind, and there’s some real stinkers of reviews on Goodreads and Amazon for a few. But you should see my fan letters! Not everyone’ll like what you make, love, it’s impossible. Even the “classics” has people who can’t stand ‘em---including me, for some.” “Do they....flame you?” “Flaming things is more my specialty. “ “No, I mean...lemme show you.” she said, and pulled out her phone. Later, had to explain to everyone WHY he had torched Alice’s cell into a molten plastic and metal lump and blamed ‘shitheads on the Internet’. *** “FIRST RESORT” It was not the greenery of Krakoa that they walked through today, but the border of Danum Valley in Sabah, Borneo, Malaysia. For most of human history, no one had settled in this part of the country, nor deforested its paradisaical and ancient rainforest, home to orangutans, clouded leopards, Sumatran rhinoceros, and, Haven’s personal favorite, the humble mouse-deer. To actually go into it would be foolhardy, not simply because of the creatures (indeed, really the least of one’s worries, wild animals tended to avoid people) but for the abundance of insects, dangerous plants, and the fact their clothes simply weren’t cut out for the amount of water, mud, and foliage they would encounter. The reason for the lack of proper hiking gear was that they had not come to Sabah to look at its jungles, lovely as they were, but because they had a mission. For most of the Marauders, it was the usual, bringing mutants home should they wish to come; in this case, mutants among the thousands of victims trafficked through this area alone. For Shaw specifically, well...there was a portion of eastern Sabah had long been an area for smuggling into and from Indonesia and the Southern Philippines. He’d been asked by the Council to bring its own unique goods to the black market there. And for Haven, well, there was figuring out what to do with the rest of the trafficking survivors; she wasn’t about to just leave them after the mutants in their number had been pulled from the herd. With all that accomplished, everyone was now, as usual, taking part in essentially vacationing before heading back. Pyro and Shinobi were hitting the bars in Kota Kinabalu, Madelyne was off fighting poachers of pygmy elephants, and Claudine...well, who knew where she slipped off to? No one usually asked. And Sebastian Shaw, waiting for evening when he’d take the boat over to Kuala Lumpur for some fun of his own, was passing the day or at least this particular hour walking on the outskirts of the verdant conservation area, not close enough to be engulfed by the trees but still with quite a bit more plant life in the way than he’d like. Particularly when concentrating on a conversation, even an asinine one. “So you do consent that violence is necessary at times,” he said, feeling he had finally gotten SOMETHING sensible out of her. “I do,” Haven said, who did not feel she had lost anything by admitting this; she had never denied it, “It’s the debate of when. My opinion is not that it must never be used---if someone is about to shoot a room full of people and there is no telepath to put them to sleep, for instance, then sadly a sniper shot may be the best option for the least loss of life---but that it is often jumped to far too quickly. It should be a last resort and not a first, or a second for that matter.” “I disagree in that but I most certainly agree in its necessity---and effectiveness,” he replied, though he knew she of course knew that, “So we do have some common ground then, however small.” “Why, Mr. Shaw, I didn’t realize you cared about that.” “Wipe that look off your face, woman. I didn’t concede to you in the slightest. If anything, the reverse.” “That’s not what I was smiling about, Mr. Shaw,” she said, still smiling and stopping to crouch down. She was adjusting a flower back into an upright position; some animal must had stepped on it. Perhaps one of her precious mouse-deer. “I meant I appreciate that you would appreciate we have some common ground, however small.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, “There would be no point speaking to you otherwise. There is barely any point as it is.” “But you do it,” she said, and began to dig her hands in the dirt, around the flower, so that she could scoop it out without plucking it, without ending its little life, “And, I apologize, I don’t like to make assumptions, but...I doubt you’re the kind of person who does anything he does not see a point in, Mr. Shaw.” She stood back out and held her cupped hands out to him, displaying the bloom, “It’s a Dendrobium lohokii, a type of orchid. Do you think we should bring this back to Krakoa? I don’t know what the policy is on invasive species, but I believe it could thrive there. The climate seems right.” Sebastian reached out and touched her hands with his own...and forcibly made her curl hers into a fist around the delicate Dendrobium, crushing it. “You are correct, Ms. Dastoor, in that I do little without a point. But you also grievously underestimate my boredom with this crew. Including yourself. You are to me as violence is to you---a last resort.” He released her hands and strode on, “And Krakoa has all the flowers it needs.” *** “HUMAN” “You know what the worst thing is, though?” said Madelyne, her black-gloved hand tracing the mouth of the glass. She still dressed like herself---her old self, her first self---when out of costume, but when acting as a Marauder (not as an X-Men, a Marauder) she did put on the ol’ pleathers again, the ones she’d worn WHEN WORKING WITH ARKEA. “I’m shocked you can choose,” said Haven, and there was no humor in her tone. Madelyne sometimes coped with a wry wit and devil-may-care (no punt intended) tone, but Haven only ever spoke of their mutual traumas with solemn gravity. “The worst part,” Madelyne inhaled, “The worst part is...I wanted it, Haven. Just in a dream, yeah, but still. And I’m not sorry that I wanted it. And when I got it...I enjoyed it. And I know I was possessed, I know it wasn’t me---I’m the only one who knows that, it seems, and even I don’t even care most of the time---but the part of me that was still awake? That nasty little greedy bitter part Sym talked to? She liked it. I liked it. I got my revenge, and I deserved it. And I can’t let go of that. I should feel SO guilty for that, it goes against everything I am, that I really am, but...I can’t. I don’t. And I...I don’t think I want to.” Madelyne knew that Haven could never understand. It was a contradiction, really---Haven was the only one here who could really understand what she’d been through, because of the uncannily similar circumstances, and yet at the same time, because of who Haven was, she also was the one person on the ship that Madelyne knew could never relate to this. She’d seen this woman beg for the lives of Purifiers. She’d seen her look with pity on child traffickers. Fuck, could you be so compassionate it was a sin in itself? Because Madelyne felt like it sometimes, watching this woman. Madelyne was harder. And she wasn’t sorry. She’d burned the world once. Now, she focused on just lighting up the parts that really deserved it. “I enjoyed it too.” Madelyne dropped her glass just as she picked it up, her green eyes wide. Had she heard that right? Was she going nuts all over again? “I admit it wasn’t vengeance I took pleasure in,” said Haven, her always-slow voice even more slow, not languid but laborious, every confessing word clearly an effort to let leave her throat, “But that might be only because, unlike you, no one had wronged me. Most of the time...most of the time, what I did tortured me. I slept little, and when I did, it was tortured. I couldn’t even bring myself to do my proverbial “dirty work” most of the time, I left it to my...to my cult.” She swallowed, and Madelyne waited for the other shoe to drop. “But...I was glad, too, part of me. Because I wanted a better world, and I believed, really believed, I was bringing it about in a for-sure way. It wasn’t just helping one person and hoping for the best that small effort would make a difference. It was knowing--deeply and profoundly---that I was bringing peace and salvation closer. I had the divine word on it. And Madelyne, for all my pain...I was proud.” Madelyne stared. And then she...laughed. “Oh gosh. Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Haven, I just...” “It’s alright. Sometimes we laugh because we just don’t know what else to do. But Madelyne---I don’t think you or I are so evil for being human.” “Human?” Madelyne’s tone turned incredulous, “There was nothing human about this!” “Wasn’t there? You were hurt, hurt by those you loved most. It’s the most naturally human reaction in the world to enjoy hurting someone back.” “You don’t. You can’t tell me that, Haven. I used to think you were so full of restraint because you never struck back---but I think it’s not restraint. It’s just how you are. You couldn’t hit Sebastian when he needed it, remember?” He’d needed a charge, and fast, for all their sakes. He’d been screaming in Haven’s face for her to pummel him. Madelyne couldn’t get close enough to do it herself, but she had been close enough to see---Haven couldn’t do it. She’d been sure Sebastian was going to hit her himself to get her to strike him, but Pyro had lit him up and given him sufficient energy from that (it had turned out later he had NOT realized Sebastian was fireproof) but if he hadn’t...Madelyne was fairly sure Haven still wouldn’t have been able to do it. Maddie...she hit back when hit. And attacked when attacked. And Haven was telling her she didn’t think that wasn’t wrong---but how could she claim that, given she never did it? “No, I couldn’t. Not every single human has every single “human” flaw. Myself, I...it’s like there’s something wrong with me, Madelyne. Like there’s some part of me missing that others have that makes them able to do violence, any violence, to feel true hate or anger. But what I do have is the also-very-human trait to want to be a martyr. I think on some level, I wanted to suffer for something greater than myself. I’m a religious woman. You know this. I think the Adversary appealed to that perverse pride, that spiritual smugness in my own suffering for a good cause that no one else understood. It hurt so much, Madelyne, I hated it so much--but I got to consider myself a persecuted savior. I got to have a cross of my own at last, after a life of trying to make up for my privilege.” Madelyne stared more. And started chuckling again, “You know what? I do get that. Because god, if I have one thing I can hang on to, to make myself feel better, it’s that I was wronged, I was persecuted, I was misunderstood...and there’s a kind of weird comfort, a pride in that, isn’t there? Being able to feel you’re not the bad guy, not really, it’s everyone else who’s wrong. I feel sorry for myself, because no one else will.” “Oh Madelyne,” Haven reached over and put her hand on hers, “I will.” “Don’t,” Maddie smirked, and pulled her hand away, “My self-pity’s embarrassing enough for me.” “There’s self-pity,” said Haven gently, “And then there is self-forgiveness.” “Hey, I forgive myself,” she said, crossing her arms and legs and leaning back in her chair, “It’s everyone else that hasn’t. And I don’t need them to. I had my revenge, whether it was on my terms or not. And I have to live with that---the regret, and the satisfaction both.” “You know I’m not a vengeful person, Madelyne,” said Haven, picking up her own cup at last, a tea cup as opposed to Madelyne’s shot glass. “You’ve just said as much yourself. But I do believe very much in one old adage---the best revenge is living well. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a very good job of that these days---and this time, it is on your own terms.”