#the toys rose made made me cry as well for some reason

[thelightfantastik]

Don't mind me sobbing over Doctor Who

I'm so excited to see more Who for the first time in years

[vettelsvee]

AFTERGLOW | Mick Schumacher

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

mick schumacher x vettel!reader

summary: mick's girlfriend knows that something's wrong with him. after talking to her dad and her stepmother, she decides to face her boyfriend.

word count: 2956

warnings: angst. bad language. mick being aggressive. use of y/n.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

If Sebastian's retirement announcement had hurt you, the way you boyfriend had been acting towards you, for no apparent reason, hurt even more. 

You were on you father's terrace, with your legs stretched out on a chair in front of you and the sun shining on your face as you watched the latest news about Taylor Swift. Beside you, Hanna was tending to her baby, who was in her arms playing with a small plush toy you bought her that surprisingly become her favorite. Sebastian appeared out of nowhere carrying a tray full of snacks and drinks, which he carefully placed on the table before immediately caressing the heads of the women in his life. The German sat beside his wife facing you, his eldest daughter.

As much as you enjoyed visiting your family for no reason, today's visit had a reason with a name and surname: Mick Schumacher. Since both of you had finally decided to start a romantic relationship, everything had been a bed of roses. However, the past few weeks have been hell. The boy's behavior towards you had changed radically. What used to be a daily routine filled with laughter, gratitude and support had turned into distance and avoidance, as if they you college students living together during the school year because they had no other choice.

Before starting to speak, you poured yourself some lemonade that Vettel had made hours earlier with her, and took a slight sip despite being really thirsty. You felt nervous as you began to initiate the conversation, but the warm looks you father and stepmother were giving you helped you relax.

"I need to share something with you," you began, "because if I don't tell someone, I feel like I'm going to end everything I've fought for all this time. Plus, I feel like you're the ones who can help me the most in this regard," you added.

The couple exchanged curious looks, not knowing what you were referring to. Any idea passed through Hanna's mind, while the Aston Martin driver could only think of the possibility that his little one might be pregnant. Hanna could see the panic in her husband's face; she simply placed her free hand on the German's thigh and gently caressed it, trying to calm him down. They shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly, and that seemed to be what his wife was telling him as she gave Sebastian a glance.

"I've noticed that Mick has been behaving very strangely lately," you began to explain. "I don't know what's going on in his head, but we hardly talk, we don't usually go out of the house like we used to and... well, let's say we don't show as much affection to each other anymore," you said apologetically, trying not to get angry at the laughter your father was making. "I feel like the Mick I've known all this time has been just a mirage, and I don't know what to do about it."

Sebastian and Hanna exchanged knowing looks, and the woman let him speak first.

"Y/N, I understand what you mean, but you have to know the pressure Mick faces daily," the blonde explained lovingly. "Formula 1 is like that: it doesn't just drag you, but also those you love the most. Your boyfriend has many eyes on him, and as if that weren't enough, he bears the responsibility of carrying on his father's legacy."

The older blonde agreed with her husband. She passed the little one to Seb, got up quickly and sat next to you,now cry out of frustration, and started to caress your hair lovingly as a comfort.

"Your father is right, Y/N, and I have to agree with him because I've been with him for almost twenty years," Hanna commented. "Every person has a completely different way of dealing with stress. Sebastian used to yell at me every time he breathed, and look," she pointed at him, "here we are. Some people open up to anyone they meet, and others shut themselves off to avoid worrying those they love the most," she stated. "Just because Mick isn't like he was a few weeks ago doesn't mean his feelings towards you have changed. Sometimes, they just need space and a little time to silence the demons in their heads."

You nodded, taking a sip from the glass you held in your hands to calm your nerves. You let out a sigh you had been holding in for quite some time, worried about the possible reaction the two in front of you might have. They continued to talk about more trivial matters, and that conversation, although short, had been very meaningful, was set aside, although not for the girl, who continued to torture herself wondering what she could do to make Mick feel better while listening to talk about baby care and nurseries.

"Thank you, dad. Thank you, Hanna," you replied, getting up from your seat and looking at the adults. "I guess I needed the advice of someone who might have gone through the same thing as I am right now," you objected. "I promise I'll do my best not to despair anymore. I'll let you know when I know more."

The couple got up shortly after you, already heading towards the door, possibly to return to the apartment you shared with Schumacher. Sebastian, still holding the baby, opened the door, unable to say anything else. Hanna, on the other hand, smiled warmly at you and gave you a hug.

"Remember, we're here for you, sweetheart," your father's wife said kindly. "Communication is key in any relationship. If you see that Mick is still not ready to talk about it, give him space, but don't forget to remind him that you're there for whatever he needs."

You nodded and left the residence, leaving the driver and his wife somewhat worried about what could happen between you two.

You opened the door to your home with trembling hands, feeling a pressure in your chest from the concern about the scene your eyes would encounter as soon as you entered.

The first thing that greeted you was the sound of hooves scratching the parquet floor, which soon grew louder as Angie approached rapidly to welcome you home again. You bent down, leaving your belongings aside, and took some time to caress your furry friend, whom you had grown fond of since the moment her owner introduced her to you. While admiring the way the animal's tail moved, you began to hear the running water from the shower, a sign that Mick was home, as you had hoped.

Sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, whose screen was filled with deceptive advertisements for food and clothing, you heard a door open and steps that seemed to be approaching you. You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for what was about to come when you saw her boyfriend walk past you, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another smaller towel.

You decided that things couldn't go on like this, so you approached the boy more angrily than you thought, who was preparing dinner, obviously, just for himself.

"Yes, love, I had a great time with Seb and Hanna. Thanks for asking how my day went!" you shouted sarcastically.

Schumacher turned around, leaving the wooden spoon on the bowl in which his salad was being prepared. Your face was fully red, and your aggressive demeanor reminded him of Sebastian's moments of fury at Red Bull. The German looked at you coldly, and you only felt his blue eyes radiating hatred, something you had never seen in the boy before.

If you weren't up for games that night, neither was Mick.

"I don't care how your day went," the blue-eyed one responded disdainfully, "but if you had such a great time with your perfect family, maybe you should consider moving in with them."

The driver’s statement hurt you more than if you had been stabbed in the stomach. You couldn't believe the words coming out of the mouth of the one you considered the love of your life. When you opened your mouth to reply and yell a thousand worse things at him, the words got stuck in your throat. Schumacher made a move to leave, but you reluctantly took his hand to keep talking to him. For you, things weren't going to stay like this. 

"After everything we've been through to get here, is this how you're paying me back?!" you exploded, releasing all the anger you had accumulated. "Is this the way you planned to treat me from the beginning?"

The driver turned to you, his jaw tense. His arms were crossed, and he was squeezing his clenched fists tighter and tighter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, blondie," he spat with disdain. "If you feel so bad, maybe you should reconsider what this relationship means to you."

You approached him with fury, and began to hit him in the chest with your hands. You were tired of, at any point in your life, the people she loved the most ending up hurting her.

"You have no idea what you mean to me!" you got closer and closer to Mick, who seemed to feel small compared to you. "You became my everything when I had nothing, but now you've become a stranger with whom it would seem ridiculous to say that I've shared traumas from my life that no one knows."

"You have no right to judge me, Y/N!" roared the boy with a voice filled with aggression. "You don't know what I have to face every day: criticism, expectations, my father, you, the team..." He raised his hands in the air as he spoke. "Do you think it's easy being in this messed up world?"

"It's not just about you, Mick!" you exclaimed, tears starting to blur your vision. "It's about us and everything we've been through together!"

Words continued to fly in the room, laden with pain and anger, exchanged between the couple as if in a tennis match. You had reached a point where the argument wasn't focused on trying to resolve whatever was happening between you, but on hurting each other with hurtful comments, fighting to see who could inflict more damage.

"This makes no sense, Y/N," Mick shouted in frustration. His gaze was filled with panic and accumulated anger. He felt it increasingly difficult, at that point in the argument, to contain his rage.

"Love, please, calm down," your voice trembled. "We're not getting anywhere, just giving the neighbors a free show that we'll regret later," you pleaded.

Schumacher didn't relent. He felt a wave of helplessness washing over his body. He reached out his muscular arm and grabbed the first object he could find, a frame with a picture of him with you and Angie on a day you spent in the mountains, and threw it against the wall mercilessly. The sound of impact and shattering glass echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the sobs and gasps of air from the young woman.

You couldn't help but step back, feeling increasing pressure in your chest and filled with fear. You knew the boy was losing control of the situation, and you were afraid it would escalate to physical violence against you. You had experienced that kind of abuse with your mother, and you didn't want to relive it with the same person who once told you that love didn't hurt.

"Mick, stop, this isn't you!" you cried out in anguish. "What's wrong with you?"

The German clenched his fists tighter.

"I've already told you, Y/N: you don't understand! You can't possibly understand. The pressure, the expectations... it's all overwhelming," he sighed anxiously, "and I feel like it's going to break me at any moment."

You approached him slowly, but at a safe distance, in an attempt to calm him down that you hoped wouldn't be in vain.

"We're in this together, sweetheart. Why don't you confide in me instead of shouting at me like a madman in an asylum?"

"Because I don't want you involved in this," Mick looked at you with a mix of anger and pain. "You've had enough worries in your life already."

You went cold, speechless in response. The blonde seemed to have calmed down. Now, his gaze begged you to keep speaking because, if not, he would go crazy at any moment.

"Mick, I love you," you continued as best you could, "and that means I want to be there for you, even in the toughest moments. You can't expect me to walk away when you need me the most."

"It's not that simple, Y/N," the driver paced back and forth, seeking a way to remedy everything he had caused during those weeks of tormenting Gunther. "The pressure is overwhelming, and the comparisons with my father are becoming less bearable," he confessed. "People don't care how hard I try. They always end up making me feel like I’m not good enough."

The blonde took a deep breath, struggling to keep calm while seeing that the root of the problem was surfacing:

"And how do you expect our relationship to work if you shut yourself off? I can't guess what's going on in your head if you don't tell me," you said in a barely audible whisper.

"Because I don't want to be a burden to you!" he retorted. "I don't want you to see me as a failure."

Determined to end all the fuss, you took a step forward and, despite the boy's protests, ended up taking his hands and directing his gaze to yours.

"Mick, you're not a failure: you're human," you said. "Making more or fewer mistakes is completely normal, and I'm here to support you and make you see that," you expressed sincerely. "I don't care what people think or say about you. To me, you'll always be the best at what you do, and there won't be a comment that will change my mind."

He looked at you. Angie had clumsily approached the boy's leg, stroking him and causing him some tickles with her fur, something that made you laugh in that moment of tension.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? How can I move forward with all this?",

Feeling her resistance beginning to dissipate, you rushed to give him a hug, something the boy didn't reject. You both had missed each other, and the gentle caresses you shared in that brief moment were proof of that.

"Start by trusting me. Share what worries you and what you're afraid of. You don't have to fight alone: you know I'm here for whatever you need."

Mick, with his eyes full of tears threatening to fall, held you tightly to his chest, trying not to hurt you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered with a trembling voice, "for everything. My contract with Haas... it's over. Gunther doesn't trust me for next year."

You quickly pulled away from Mick. You had been left in suspense, and your boyfriend's pale face had already given you many clues, such as why he had told you before the cooling of your relationship that he didn't want to continue racing, or how Seb's retirement didn't affect him as much as you had thought it would.

Mick had faced very painful and traumatic experiences, such as his father's accident. However, although his dismissal might seem less significant than the former, for his girlfriend, it was more serious because there was nothing worse than someone compromising your mental health, and that was exactly what Gunther Steiner had been doing to her guy.

You approached him with slow steps and hugged him once again.

"Darling..." you whispered, trying to sound as understanding as possible. "It's okay, alright? Gunther doesn't deserve you. Besides, I'm sure that when something bad ends, something better begins."

Schumacher collapsed into your arms, tears finally escaping from his eyes. The mask he had been wearing for all the previous weeks had finally shattered, revealing a vulnerable version of himself that he didn't want you to discover.

"I feel like a failure," the blonde sobbed with a choked tone due to the tears. "I've fought so hard, I've given everything I have even when I couldn't anymore... and it seems like it's never enough."

You hugged him tighter, tenderly, hearing the boy's quick heartbeats loud and clear.

"You're not a failure, Mick," you revealed to him. "You have so much talent and you can do great things, it's just that you started your career in a crappy team with even crappier treatment," the boy laughed, music to your ears. "This is just a bump in the road, and you and I are going to get through it together."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, love," Mick looked at you tenderly, mentally regretting his behavior over the past few weeks.

"I'll always be here for you, truly," you continued, gently stroking his cheek. "You're so much more than race results, and I won't stop telling you until you believe it, even when you get tired of hearing me say it so much!"

You ended up laughing heartily, initiated by Mick. Maybe you weren't the perfect duo in the eyes of others, but you were for yourselves and those who knew you best.

If the invisible string theory was real, you and Mick were proof of it. You could even say the same about the multiverse hypothesis: in this one, and in millions more, a stubborn blonde couple, no matter the problems you had to face, would end up together, whatever it took.

[faghubby]

NOT ALL BUSINESS

I packed Stacy's suitcase. She wouldn't have time, besides I was used to taking on untraditional roles. Four years ago after Stacy gave birth to our daughter. Lucy. We found ourselves in a odd situation. Stacy's career was on the rise. While mine was well non existent. The company I was working for closed. So after some discussion I chose to stay home be a stay at home Dad. This turned out to be the best idea ever. It allowed Stacy to focus on her career and she rose quickly. A year ago that meant a some travel. Just a few days a month.

"Paul, you are the best" Stacy told me. When she saw I had already taken care of everything. She took me to bed. I kept myself in great shape. No reason to let myself become a fat househusband. I used to joke. Stacy looked better then before we had Lucy. Our lovemaking was pretty normal I guess. Consisted of two positions. Missionary and if adventurous a leg on my shoulder. With me usually preforming oral on her. While I settled for the once a year blowjob on my birthday. Tonight started no differently. We went right to missionary. But I finished quicker then usual.

"OH baby" I will be away for three days" Stacy pouted. "Help me" she rolled her eyes toward her nightstand. We had played with her vibrator before. I made a face but grabbed it. I teased her first with the toy. I couldn't help ignore that it was much bigger then my 5 inches. I slid it inland she moaned. It was thicker then I was as well. But slid in easily.

"Lick my clit" she moaned in my ear. She hardly ever spoke like this. Without thinking I slid down and did just that. I instantly tasted myself. I lifted my head quickly. But Stacy pulled my head back down.

"Don't stop" she moaned. I licked her clit again ignoring the taste. Stacy loved it she went wild. Shoving my head down hard. I never seen her cum so forceful before. She laid there trying to catch her breath. She just held me against her breast. As we fell asleep. When I woke Stacy was already gone. We talked everyday of course. This trip was three days. She accompanied her boss.

"Last night was special" she told me. The first night as we said goodnight. She always spoke about dinner time when she traveled sometimes she had late meetings. And didn't want to miss our time. If I fell asleep.

Stacy plane got delayed and she didn't get in till late coming home. I was already asleep. I was still half asleep when Stacy guided my head between.her legs. I didn't resist just licked and sucked. It was off bit I figured from travel and hadn't showered. Stacy went crazy pulling my hair and crying out I was soon fully awake. Unfortunately so was Lucy being woken by her mothers cries.

"Sorry baby I just needed that" she told me. I wiped my face and went to get Lucy back to bed. Stacy was sound asleep. I picked uo my phone and watched some porn as I jerked off. Before returning to bed. In the morning I got made breakfast. Stacy running late grabbed coffee and kissed me goodbye before heading to the office. Lucy had half day nursery school. I took that time to unpack Stacy. I found Stacy's underwear, was that dried cum? I thought as I hand washed them. The ones from last night were still damp. Four pairs of panties all with traces of cum in them. Stacy was having an affair? I found myself excited by this. Over the years it had become a fantasy I often found myself masterbating to. But it was just that a fantasy.

I arranged for my mother to take Lucy for the night. And waited for Stacy to come home. She arrived on time.

"Where's Lucy?" She asked I had not thought about her not seeing her for three days. And felt bad.

"Are you having an affair?" I asked.

"Yes, why?" Stacy replied calmly.

"What?" I was stunned by her response I expected denial or at least remorse.

'Don't act surprised. Why do you think you always pack my sexiest lingerie when I take a trip? You been hoping I was" Stacy told me.

"And last night when you sucked my bosses cum out of my pussy? Tell me that you didn't want that as well. You showed me you did when you ate yours" she continued.

Stacy stepped close.

"I been fucking Greg for a year now. Ever since that first business trip." She told me. Greg was her boss. He was at least 15 years older then her I thought. She reached into my pants and stroked me. I was rock hard.

"He is so much bigger then you are" she whispered in my ear. "I am so glad you know" she stripped me. I stood before her naked. She knelt and took me in her mouth I lasted only a minute. She stood and kissed me. I tasted the salty taste on her lips I tried to pull away. But she insisted and kissed me. Feeding me my own cum.

"I love you and don't want to lose you. But it turns me on so much knowing you are home waiting for me. When I am with him" she told me. Stacy was still fully dressed as she pulled me naked into bed. She held me again in her arms my head against her chest. She told me everything. In detail. How he Greg had seduced her ever so gently. How he fucked her made her feel lime a total slut. She had given him her ass. And always sucked his cock. I cried knowing she wouldn't do these things for me.

"It's different he makes me, he makes me want to please him" she told me. "He loves how you always pack sexy things for me to wear for him. I tell him I usually wear simple cotton bras and panties for you don't i"

"Does it hurt, you know anal? " I asked.

"At first, why would you like to try" she asked. I just blushed.

"You can fuck my ass if you like, or eat it for that matter" she laughed. She shifted and pulled up her dress exposing her ass.

"Try it" she teased I moved and she pulled her panties down she laid onnher side opening up her ass.

"Eat my ass" she told me. I licked and kissed her ass. Then drove my tounge into her hole. She moaned but giggled as I ate her ass. As it amused her. After a few minutes she had me stop.

"So we are clear about Greg then, you can pretend you don't know. Or embrace it either way its not going to stop" she assured me. I stayed naked the rest of the night. She got off on it.

Stacy often would text me "private meeting" when she was going to be late because she was getting fucked. She loved when I would clean her after those meeting as well. She did learn to be at least alittle quieter when I did. As a special treat once a month or so Lucy would spend a night at my moms and I would spend it naked listening to all of her sexual encounters. I never have fucked her ass. But enjoy eating it often. Our weekly sex session may change on occasion now. The first one after I discovered the affair she just chose to jive me a handjob, but she prefers me to make my mess in her and lick it clean now.

Stacy is pregnant again. And we are both pretty sure it isn't mine. We couldn't be happier.

[devinescribe]

Lonely Boy

Octavian x reader

Warnings: None

A bit angsty, mostly fluff

This is the first story I’m posting as the new owner of this account, and I love this character so much, soooo

Here you go!

When you arrived at Camp Jupiter around 7 years ago, the same day as Octavian, you weren’t exactly... expecting much. The boy was isolated from most, not well liked even from the first day he was there. Octavian came off as rude and arrogant… and he was.

“Hi… my name is Y/N L/N…. It’s nice to meet you,” you whispered to him, holding a cute little white bunny plushie.

“Hello. I’m-“

“Octavian, Y/N. Pleasure to meet you both. Welcome to Camp Jupiter.”

You were shy, and hid behind the boy you had just met.

“Don’t hide behind me-“ he hissed, trying to move away.

“Please don’t make me…” you whispered, a hint of tearyness to your tone.

The boy stopped. He had never really interacted with others his age as he had been trained almost his whole life by his parents putting pressure on him. He had just been in the Wolf House and survived Lupa’s training, and to see you hiding pissed him off a bit. At the same time, he felt bad.

Against his better judgment he let you hide behind him, stepping in front of you as you clutched onto his shirt.

“We can be friends…?” You asked quietly.

He was shocked.

“Um… I-… I… I’m not…” he stammered, as you walked around the camp. “…Okay.”

He quickly rose the ranks, much like you did… Or at least, much like you wished you had. You were in the first cohort, just like him. No matter how much you tried, he would never reciprocate your kindness in full. Yet he listened, and he was a lot kinder to you than he was to others. There was something that royally pissed you off about the boy... But there was something so painfully sad about him. You understood.

As a daughter of Discordia, you often got a bad reputation. People tolerated you. Sure, you were nice and kind to everyone, but that didn’t matter…

One slip of the tongue was enough to make people hate you for a week, no matter how hard you tried.

So you tried to be soft spoken, gentle, and kind. Patient with all of the campers especially the new ones and the little ones. It didn’t matter. Because to them, you were just a ticking time bomb.

"Y/N, you are now in charge of whatever the hell Octavian is getting himself into," Reyna said, shooting you a look as you two walked through the camp.

You sighed, "Why me? I do not have a high position… I suppose I am in the senate, but I can’t even call myself a centurion or preator so why me?"

She shrugged, "He listens to you. I don't know why."

This was true. With a sigh, you make a stop at your cohort before making the long trek to the temple where the young augur stood in front of his altar, with a teddy bear in hand.

"Octavian. Put the teddy down," You commanded.

The blonde scoffed at your intrusion.

"Why are you here?" he asks rudely, putting the ceremonial dagger down with a harsh slam on the altar.

He truly was just a petulant child… but he was your petulant child and possibly only true friend.

"Reyna officially made me 'one in charge of your bullshit.’ So put it down,” you said again.

A younger camper comes in, sniffling and crying. Their teddy had gone missing and they saw you come in here. You look at the pile of stuffed animals at the blonde boy’s feet. The younger camper cowered behind you, terrified of Octavian. Walking closer, you pick the stuffed toys up and forcefully take the one in Octavian’s hand.

“If you’re gonna keep doing this stop doing it to the kids’ stuffies. Here,” You said, roughly handing him a pristine white stuffed bunny. He stared at it as you walked out, arms full of stuffies.

He stared down at the stuffy. It was yours. The same one you clutched onto the first day at camp, the day he met you. One of your favorites. You made your bed every morning and always set up your stuffed animals on it. He never touched them. They were right there, but he never touched them. For some reason, he felt bad holding such an important item of yours even though he had never cared about anyone else’s.

Octavian scoffed. Of course, you were put in charge of him. Who else? He walked out of the temple and saw as you set the stuffies on a blanket, sitting, taking a needle, and thread out of a pocket in your skirt. He watched as kids sat around you, watching you sew. Your voice carried with the wind and he sighed, leaning against a pillar. A story. You were telling them a story.

Why were you so kind? Everyone acted like you were going to snap at the smallest of things, you never did, but you always stay with a smile on your face being good to everyone.

He walked down closer to hear your voice more clearly. Whatever story you were telling, the kids did not want to hear it.

“Tell us about the lonely boy!” one shouted.

A chorus of agreement was heard.

He watched as you laughed, nodding, never looking up from your stitching. You held each stuffed animal with such care.

“The lonely boy hm…? Well… Let me tell you all of when he met… the magical girl…” you smiled.

“Magic like you?” A little boy asked, holding onto a stuffed dinosaur with its arms detached.

You nod, “Like me… ready?”

The group of children nods.

“Once upon a time, in a realm where gods and mortals intertwined, much like this one, there lived a lonely boy. He was strong and brave, but deep in his heart, he felt a void, a yearning for something more.”

The kids leaned against each other and looked with such interest at you as you began to tell the story.

“The lonely boy spent his days training, mastering the arts of combat and strategy, much like many heroes we hear about. But unlike the other heroes, he was not well-liked. He was outcasted, feared, and hated by others. He was bitter, and mean on occasion… even children ran from him-“

“Like Octavian!” A boy shouted.

The group laughed, and a part of you felt bad.

“Come now… be nice…. Where was I…? Ah, yes. Despite his strength, he felt a deep loneliness and just wanted to be liked by someone.”

Octavian scowled at the group laughing at him. He would never tell anyone that it hurt. He would never say that it hurt to be laughed at, to be seen as a joke. He knew how everyone looked at him. How everyone felt about him. He held the stuffed bunny you had given him tightly, still hidden as he watched.

“One day, while wandering in the forest, he stumbled upon a hidden glade bathed in moonlight. There, in the center of the glade, stood a girl unlike any he had ever seen. This girl was the daughter of a powerful enchantress. Her hair shimmered like starlight, and her eyes held the mysteries of the night. She had the gift of magic, able to weave spells and enchantments with a mere whisper. The magical girl was well-loved and admired by all, her kindness and charm drawing people to her like moths to a flame.”

“Like you? Is that what you do?” A little girl asked.

You smiled, “If that is what you think I do.”

The group of children laughed as you continued.

“The lonely boy watched the magical girl from afar, his heart torn between admiration and jealousy. Torn between wanting to hold her, and wanting to see her ripped apart. He saw how well-liked she was, how everyone was drawn to her… At first he thought he was jealous of her… Until he figured out he was more jealous of those who got to be around her. He longed to be in her presence, but felt unworthy and afraid of rejection.”

One of the younger campers, a little girl clutching a torn, well loved, stained rabbit, asked, “Did he ever tell her how he felt?”

“Not at first. Instead, he kept his distance, afraid of making things worse… Afraid of her hating him too. But his feelings grew stronger, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. He would leave small gifts, hoping she would notice, but he never had the courage to speak his heart. Her favorite treats, small pieces of the finest jewelry, love notes, and things she’d mentioned.”

Some girls sighed with a lovesick sigh.

“One day, his frustration and loneliness overwhelmed him. The boy saw the magical girl surrounded by friends, her laughter ringing through the air. Her wonderful, enchanting laughter followed by her bright, warm smile, that could put the sun to shame. He couldn’t take it anymore and confronted her, his words spilling out in anger and pain, rushing like an overflowing river, breaking the walls of the damn.”

The kids gasped, leaning forward as you kept seeing and fixing the stuffies. As you finished one, you handed it it to the kid it corresponded to. You pick up the last one. A stuffed black cat… or rather the shell of the stuffy. You sighed, re stuffing it and stitching it back up.

“He shouted at her, accusing her of being oblivious to his suffering, accusing her of being evil and rotten, because how could he feel so much for her and her never notice? Tears streamed down his face as he finally confessed his feelings, his love, and his despair. The magical girl was taken aback, stunned by his outburst. Her friends laughed. The lonely boy was not well liked, and the thought of the magical girl ever returning such feelings to such a rotten boy was humorous to them. The lonely boy ran, without hearing her answer, humiliated…”

Gasps of ‘oh no’ could be heard through the small crowd of campers. Soft sniffles caught your attention. It was never your intention to make the little ones cry…

“The magical girl, seeing the depth of his pain, ran after him, ignoring the laughter of her friends. At the glade, under a willow tree, she saw his teary face. She approached him with compassion. She hadn’t realized how much he was hurting… she hadn’t know of his feelings for her… With a gentle touch, she told him that she saw him now, that his feelings mattered. That he mattered to her. That he was… lovely. He was loved. In that moment, the lonely boy felt a weight lift from his heart. Their bond grew, and he found the acceptance he had always longed for.”

The group of kids sniffled and wiped their tears and snot on the back of their hands and their newly fixed stuffed animals.

“Remember, my little doves,” you say softly, finishing the final stitches on the stuffed cat,“sometimes, those who seem the loneliest need our kindness the most. Love and understanding can heal even the deepest wounds and bring light to the darkest hearts.”

The children cheer happily as you hand the stuffed kitten back to it’s owner.

“Some people deserve to be lonely….” A little boy says, petting his stuffed lion.

“Yeah… like the teddy bear murderer,” another girl scoffs, hugging her stuffy close.

You shake your head, trying to stop them from saying those things.

“Come now, you wouldn’t like to be lonely would you? I think he’s rather-“

“Octavian is mean.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“My siblings don’t like him.”

“No one in my cohort likes him either.”

“He deserves it.”

You stare in shock. Sure, Octavian wasn’t well liked, this you knew… but to hear all this from children… you felt bad for him.

“Guys… no one deserves to be alone-“ you try to start, but they talk over you.

In the midst of all the talking there a shrill scream as one girl finally notices Octavian watching. You turn and see him just standing there… he glares at you, hand gripping onto the white bunny. You look at him with pleading tear filled eyes to not do anything drastic… tears? When did you start crying?

You get up and go to walk over, but kids grab at you, telling you to not go that he was going to hurt you, he was mean, he was a jerk, how would rip you up like the teddy bears… and something inside you just snapped.

“Enough!”

The shout was so loud even campers who were not in the group of kids turned to stare.

“You are all just as mean and terrible as you say he is by saying things like that!” You yell at the kids, anger coursing through you, your blood feeling like fire in your veins.

Almost as soon as you yelled, you covered your mouth, regretting it.

Kids started crying and running away from you.

It hurt.

But what hurt the most was the glares you were receiving from other campers.

This was the snap they were waiting for…

You turned to go talk to Octavian, but he wasn’t there anymore.

Reyna rushed up to you.

“Y/N, what on earth is going on?” She questioned… was that anger in her tone?

“I’m sorry I-i just got overwhelmed and everyone was talking and I told them to stop and-“

“Over Octavian? Really? You made them cry defending him of all people?”

You looked at her, an incredulous look on your face. Shaking your head, you walk away, ignoring as she called out after you.

You’re sitting by the lake, under a tall tree, staring out as the sun glimmers over the water.

You hear footsteps behind you and hide yourself even more.

“Didn’t take you for the brooding type,” you heard the voice say.

With such arrogance and teasing in the tone, you knew who it was.

“Leave me alone Octavian,” you sigh, leaning onto the palm of your hand.

“I don’t think I will.”

You groan as the lanky blond sits next to you. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits there. An… oddly comforting silence stands between the two of you. You look down and notice he’s still holding your bunny.

“Is my bunny not a good enough sacrifice for you?” You joke with a sarcastic smile.

He would never tell you that he knew how much it meant to you, and that he would never ever dream of making you of all people cry.

So instead he just scoffs, “Of course it’s not good enough.”

��How do you deal with it?” You ask in a hushed tone.

“Deal with what?”

“Everyone hating you. You always seem so… fine with it.”

He plays with the bunny in his hands, pulling at it gently.

He was never okay with it. He was lonely.

“Well how do you go around camp being so kind to everyone when they look down at you for your parentage?

“… touché.”

He handed you the bunny back.

“Thanks….” He mumbled.

You were confused. Why was he thanking you?

“Thanks? Why thanks?” You asked, snuggling the bunny.

He hesitated, looking away. You noticed the way the tips of his ears turned red, and laughed.

“You nervous ‘Tavi?”

“Don’t call me that you insolent-“

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“…Thanks for defending me… um… you didn’t have to…” he mumbled.

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

“I always will. Even if you hate me… I’m going to go… make it up to Reyna. Here,” you said, softly placing the bunny back in his hands. “He always helps me when I’m sad… I think you need that right now.”

Before standing up you bite your lip and place a kiss on his cheek. His face turned bright red as he stammered, trying to get his words out, but failing miserably.

You ran off, leaving the blond alone with his thoughts. He stared down at the bunny, holding it softly. Why was he such a coward?

“Thanks for being kind always… I wish I had the courage to tell you I like you…”

[oddaodd]

· July’s Official Birthday Flower ·

Summary: When the reader suffers yet another miscarriage, Tommy is there for her. Time helps them heal, but there’s always a little reminder of what they’ve lost.

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of miscarriage, grief, blood , sadness and pain.

Author’s note: I Think this is one of the angstiest fics I’ve ever written and I do think that I should put a disclaimer out there that if any of the warnings that I wrote up there tigger you, please don't read ahead.

·

A sharp pain awoke Y/n in a particularly warm summer night. Having been too familiar, more than anyone would like to be, with the particular pain she was feeling, she wasted no time in sitting up and getting out of bed, barely granting her significantly stained sheets a glance before she rushed to the bathroom, where the pains became more and more severe. She must have been spotting for hours before the pain woke her up.

Tommy was still sleeping on his side of the bed and for a reason Y/n didn’t want to make a sound. She carefully closed the bathroom door and took a few more steps until another wave of pain flowed through her body. Placing her hand over her mouth to buff the whimpers her throat couldn’t stop from escaping into her mouth, the pain increased. She began to feel blood quickly dripping down her legs but she couldn’t bring herself to look down, instead looking up at the small chandelier hanging from the bathroom’s ceiling as she took big breaths and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

It couldn’t be happening again. But it was. Y/n confirmed it when she saw the amount of blood that had pooled under her, a minuscule silhouette in violent contrast with the pearly white tiles. She couldn’t handle it then and let out a pained sob at the sight. Her legs trembled and she let herself fall to the cold hard floor. She could hear the violent thud her contact with the floor caused ringing through the bathroom’s walls as she rested her head against the tub and began sobbing silently. Suddenly the pain that woke her up, the one that she had to buffer out mere seconds ago felt like nothing. She wanted it to hurt more so it matched what the sight of the blood caused her to feel.

She then heard an array of hurried footsteps that stopped for a second in front of the door. Three soft knocks ran through the bathroom followed by Tommy’s voice calling Y/n’s name. Y/n couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time she didn’t want anyone else to see.

“I’m coming in, Y/n” Tommy’s voice ran again and Y/n realized she didn’t want to be alone when she didn’t protest against it, not even when he gave her a few seconds to do so before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

He was by Y/n’s side in a trice. Color drained from his cheeks when he saw the blood before he crouched next to her and began rubbing her back soothingly with one hand as the other one went to the bathtub faucet.

“It won’t be necessary, love” she remembered telling him when he suggested for his aunt to go and stay with her when he left to London on a business trip a week ago “I have a good feeling about this one and I think it’s a boy”. She remembered the feeling that erupted inside her when he came back and nothing bad had happened, foolishly thinking that if nothing had happened by then nothing could happen at all.

The recollection caused her sobs to become louder, composing the most harrowing melody with the sound of the hot water filling the bathtub.

“Let it all out, Love” Tommy suggested before engulfing Y/n in a hug, his hand still rubbing circles on her back.

Y/n sank into his embrace and clung to him as if she was clinging to dear life. Her tears soaking through tommy’s cotton shirt until he felt his skin damp broke his heart. But instead of crying he continued to hold Y/n, telling her how much he loved her until the bath was full. He then helped her up, out of her stained silk night gown and into the warm water. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he grabbed a towel and carefully picked up the promise that laid on the floor as if it was made of glass before leaving the bathroom with it in hands.

By then Y/n felt she had no more tears. Her face and throat ached. But a few more tears did roll down her face when she began scrubbing the blood from her inner thighs.

After that everything became blurry, her head airy and nauseous. Brief flashes of Tommy joining her in the bath, then carrying her to another room. Frances taking with her the bloody sheets, a doctor shaking his head sorrowfully at a mournful looking Tommy, a young toddler with her hair and tommy’s eyes, laughing, Tommy crying at the end of the bed and then darkness.

She woke up the next day with a headache, Tommy was sitting at the end of the bed and immediately turned to look at her when she stirred. Again he was by her side in a trice, taking her hand in his, looking at her with bloodshot eyes into her puffy ones.

“I’m so sorry, love” Y/n croaked out, her voice raspy, traces of the unfortunate previous night evident in it.

Tommy quickly hushed her “ey, It’s not your fault”

Y/n’s eyes began watering again “But I was so sure”

“I know” he said, his own voice breaking as he got in bed next to her

“we can try again” he murmured into her ear as he pulled her closer to him.

“I don’t know if I can take it, Tom. A bit of me dies each time” she mumbled burying herself into his chest. “I don’t think I can have children”

“it’s alright, love” he whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead “I’ve got you”

“Can we buy delphiniums?” she remembered asking him just before she fell into a deep slumber and out of consciousness, she did so for two days. Tommy only woke her up sporadically when she needed to take the tablets the doctor had prescribed.

On the third day, she woke up with Tommy’s arms around her, she took a minute to observe his face, even as he slept he looked restless. She didn’t want to wake him, but she couldn’t bear to be in bed a minute longer. Her whole body felt sore as she carefully got out of his grasp and attempted to get up, but as soon as her feet hit the hardwood floors it seemed like she forgot how to walk. Her body screaming at her for even attempting. The sigh that escaped her lips at her effort, as small and quiet as it was, arouse Tommy.

“Don’t get up, love” he said in a worried raspy morning voice getting up and walking around the bed so he was in front of her “what do you need?”

“I can’t bear to be in this bed any longer, Tommy” she sniffed.

“Where do you want to go?” he said in a tender voice accepting her unwillingness to stay in bed.

“Can you take me to the garden?”

Color drained from Tommy’s face once again before he nodded softly and helped Y/n down the stairs after making a detour to the nursery to get a small ornate wooden box.

The morning air was crisp, uncharacteristic of a July morning. Y/n wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. It felt like a million of tiny cold hands soothing her warm taut skin. She stood for a moment just taking it in, the small box in her hands as Tommy went to get a shovel. The ghost of a smile painted her lips when she saw him walking back towards her, with the shovel in one hand and a delphinium plant on the other.

The pair then walked to a secluded part of their garden that most visitors didn’t get to see. After helping Y/n kneel down on the grass, Tommy began digging a hole next to the other two plants that lived in that part of their garden. A yellow rose and a lavender. Y/n’s fingers began tracing the carvings of the wooden box as she watched her husband dig. She could swear a few tears fell into the dirt before he turned to her telling her it was deep enough.

Together they set the box, in the bottom before putting the delphinium plant on top and covering it up with dirt. Y/n never minded the feeling of dirt on her hands, but she was tired of burying ghostly promises. They sat in front of it for a while until hunger called them to the kitchen where Tommy prepared some mint tea.

Months passed turning grieving weeks into days and then just moments. By then Tommy had familiarized himself with the things that transported Y/n to that dreadful night and avoided them as much as possible just like she had done with the ones that did the same to him.

Y/n for instance couldn't bare to wear white nightgowns to sleep anymore and Tommy couldn't stand the smell of mint tea.

One December afternoon as Y/n was visiting one of the orphanages the Shelby’s funded, to see if everything was running smoothly, she found a small toy horse on a small bed next to the window. She picked it up and as she observed it carefully she remembered when she walked into the nursery to find Tommy crying a few months’ prior, a small horse just like the one Y/n just had found, clutched tightly in his hands. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, it was the first time she saw him crying after that dreadful July night.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Y/n turned around with a jump and saw a small girl dressed in a yellow dress. Her hair was just as curly as Y/n's and her eyes were as pulchritudinous as Tommy’s as she looked at Y/n with a curious gaze.

“Yeah” Y/n smiled wiping her tears “is this yours?” she then asked looking at the girl as she handed her the horse.

“Yes, Her name is Rose!”

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

[pikapeppa]

Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

******************************

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot. 

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight. 

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon. 

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through. 

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either. 

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.” 

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking. 

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon. 

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face. 

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door. 

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still… 

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?” 

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?” 

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did. 

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read. 

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair. 

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said. 

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke. 

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this. 

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner.  “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping. 

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower? 

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes. 

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too. 

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin… 

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this. 

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Deal Part Three

Summary: august doesn't know how to lose.

Warnings: Adult Situations +18, Slight Smut, Mentioned Threesomes, M/M, M/F/M, poly relationship, Toys, Seduction, Dom Sub, BDSM, Praise Kink, Swearing.

August hummed running a finger back and forth on the rim of his glass as he watched the screen,you were on the bed rocking onto your new toy like crazy.

"She really does this everyday?" Clark asked from beside him with a frown, but august could see the kid was turned on, licking and biting his lip as you fucked yourself desperately with your new vibrator.

"Everyday, for a week now..." august hummed twisting his chair to and fro flicking his gaze from the subby on screen to the soon to be sub sat beside him.

"... am i? Am i not enough?" Clark asked tentatively blinking at agaust in a way that made the agent smile smugly.

"Its not that kid, shes gone without playing our game for soo long she forgot how addictive it is, how much she needs it" he explained.

"Needs? Have... i mean shes missed it?" Clark uttered feeling less confident in his ability to satisfy you by the second.

"Probably not, well not untill our little experiment"

"Why?" Clark asked still not understanding

"Being a sub is... more then just sex, subs need to submit its therapeutic for them... when in a scene they just let themselves go, all worry and stress disappear. All they need to do is live in the moment and obey" august began slowly as he stopped swaying his chair and faced clark head on pinning him with a look.

It was there, the curiosity. Good. Its what he hoped for, it was why he'd called clark there to 'catch up'

It was time to make his move, top the man of steel whilst having you making your own little porno in the background to help things along.

"So she cant truly relax without it?" Clark muttered still unaware of the agents motives.

"In a sense yes. She craves being dominated, its as natural to her as being a goody two shoes is for you" august purred placing his drink on the glass computer table fendingnoff a smirk as clark took the bait.

"Hey! Im not a goody two shoes-" the kryptonian grunted offended.

But august was prepared, he'd planned this meeting meticulously and his anwser rolled off his tongue with a laugh.

"Your thirty five years old and have absolutly no run ins with the law, no parking fines no speeding tickets hell you never even had a single detention in your entire shcool life! Or have you handed in an assignment or book report in late"

"But i killed a man- i took a life" clark tried to argue but was waed off with another laugh.

"Zod was no man, he was a fucking alien... no offence, you took a life to save billions... so its not really making you a badass"

"Lazer vision is pretty badass..." clark huffed slumping back in his seat now looking like a classic putig brat.

"Oh? Is my litttle clark sulking?" August cooed gravely voice making clark pause at the sultry tone... he must be hearing things.

"Im not sulking! And im not your anything!" Clark growled snapping at the agent.

"Behave yourself!" August growled leveling him with a look, and couldnt help smirk again as clark shut himself up and flushed.

Your desperate cries called out over the moniter as you rutting onto the toy the wet sounds adding to the scene.

Clark flushed finalky turning away from august making the agent preen. Oh he had him in the palm of his hand already~

"Good boy. You are arent you? A very good boy clark- the best" august purred leaning forward gazing at the younger man with a cheshire grin, that only grew wider as clark flushed brighter and shuddered.

"I.. err well yes" clark panted shiftingnin his seat tryingmto keep his eyes on the screen as you wailed and yelped trying to draw out a climax.

"Oh whats this? Your going all shy on me? Tell me is it because i called you a good boy~ do you like praise clark?" Augusut grinned leaning closer still to the now frozen younger male

"N-no its err... i should go-" clark started shuffljng backwards needing to get out of here, because it was true. He loved praise especially in the bedroom, he loved being told how good he was.

August purringnat him whilst he eyes were fixed on you rollingnaroundnin bed toying yourslef into a sexual frenzie was... making him think of thingsnhe probably shouldnt.

"No. Sit, stay... thats it, theres nothing to be embarrassed about, many powerful men enjoy being praised" August growled latching onto clarks arms holding them to the arms of the seat.

"Being taken care of, told what to do~" august purred standing befor the mighty man of steel leaning close to his face.

Clark gulped but didnt move back, he didnt pull away like he should have.

Instead he eyed augusts lips, clark had the overwhelming urge to.aste them.

It confused him, he'd never ever dabbled in same sex relationships, never experimented. Never shared a woman with another before that fatefull night.

But for some reason august was apealing, drawing clark in. August was apble to overpower him, not physically but he commanded obedience.

August held a dangerous cocksure demeanor that clark rarely saw.

"Is that what you want? Clark~ do you want to be controlled and praised just once? More then once?" August hummed dippjng closer and closer, clark couldnt help tipp his head up.

"Y/n is always such a brat. Just look at her, desperately trying to fuck herself into a coma, despite knowing we hadnt allowed her to touch her pussy" august pulled the pffice chair clark was sat in to closer to him, making the kryptonian drown in his scent, the cologne and sweet arousal that was alreading sworling arohnd him.

Clark swallowed dryly, unsure what was happeningnto him, the sounds of yu moaning a crying ot so sweetly, the praise and authority radiating off august in waves.

It was the same dominant aura and comanding deep voice that had made crks cock twitch in both threesomes they had indulged.

Clark had tried denying it at the time, convincing himslef he was cuaght up in the erotic forbidden act. It was just a thrill of the moment thing. It didnt bmean he wanted the older dominating alpha male and all his bravado.

August grinned shifting forward again filling clarks vision, for a human auguast was large, almost as large as he was.

"Sure she'll listen when she feels like it but... I can't help thinking she needs a role model..." clark hummed absentmidely nodding agreeing falling further into his own haze.

"Someone else to show her how she should behave... someone who will get rewarded for being soo good... maybe a good boy?" August purred finally taking the plunge and weaving jis way around the man. His words coiling around the younger male ensnareing him in his carefully constructed web of teasing words.

Clakr gasped as his chin was captured by the agent forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Would you like that clark? Do you want to be not just a good boy, but my good boy-our good boy?" The words hung in the air, winding the man of steel.

"W-what?" He stuttered tryingnto fathom what the older man meant. But couldnt deny the excitment in his gut.

Did he mean it? Would he really include clark in this kink? Make it official and let these forbidden threesomes continue?

"Oh dont play coy, i know what your thinking~ its natural to be curious, just think we could all be one~" august whispered movjng his thumb over clarks bottom lip.

"We could all play together and all get what we need." He purred smirking as clark gave all the right signs, eyes wide, pupils blown wide shifting in his seat as he cock rose, curtesy of both his praise and the loud wanton moans from you bringing yourslef to the edge of rapture yet again.

"You get the praise and love of a little brat, and a strict dom, y/n gets a role model, a dom and keeps her life partner" august listed shifting on his feet again reeling clark in with low coos full of promise.

The agent curled his hand, cupping clarks cheek coaxing him closer luring his face closer.

"A-And you?" Clark dared to utter, feeling both excited, anxious and overwhelmed, he wanted nothing but to jump at the chance, but was frightened at the same time.

He would admit he'd been a little jealous of all the praise you'd got from august in both encounters.

Closingnhis eyes imagining it was him! That the older influential man had been calljng him a good boy, had been teling him how impressed he was, how proud he was!

Clark was embarrassed and had quickly shook away the desperate thoughts. He wasnt gay, why would he have such thoughts?

He summarised he was just too needy and had gone without. You told him how brilliant and big he was, how sexy and strong and fantastic he is in the bedroom but... with august it was different.

The older male praised down at him! Cooing and fussing at him in a different way. Treated him like a sub and clark liked it. Probably too mucn.

"I get the little brat i've been missing and a very very good boy"

"So what do you say, do you want to let go? Be free and experience things you'd only dreamt of?" August preened keeping clarks attention fixed on him asmhe manipulated him, august had noticed clark had a praise kink.

A weakness. A need who was august to pass up useing the little kink to get the subby he wanted~

"I...I'm..." clark hesitated looking passed august to you on the screen who was digging around beside your bed looking for something.

"All you have to do is say the words clark, just say yes sir and you can have all the pleasure and praise you could ever hope for~ both you and y/n we could make this permanent"

"See look? Just watch, y/n needs her dom, needs to be tamed again we could do it clark... you can show her how to be good again~" august breathed over clarks cheek side steppjng him to reveal the screen.

And clark did look, groaning as he saw that you had rolled over and was straddling a different suction cup dildo stuck to a little hand mirror face up on the bed slapping your own ass as you bounced frantically.

"Just say those words and we can help her together" august hummed into his ear like the devil on his shoulder, tempting him

Clark gasped feeling augusts breath on his neck, his wisters ghosting the delicat skin.

Then in a bold move the older man pressed a soft feather light kiss to the kryptonian's neck.

And it worked

"I... y-yes, can we? Please sir" clark breathed out stuttering and jumbling his words unable to hold back his pleading.

"Good boy clark~ such a good seet boy you are~ i knew it, knew youd be brave enough, you've made me soo proud" august showered him with praise biting off a victorious grin.

Clark mewled closingnhis eyes for a second beaming a smile feeling this strange relaxation take over, suddenly he felt free, and small.

It was a feeling he craved, being the strongest all the time was a heavy burden to bare, now he could feel powerless for once.

August chuckled and pressed another kiss to clark this time on his cheek making the younger male's cheeks glow.

August couldnt get enough, the power trip of having the man of steel under his command was far to intoxicating.

"Now why dont you go get our little brat and we can tie her up and show her that good subby's get rewards" august prompted him stepping around clark completely letti g himstand up.

Clark nodded and shot off out onto the balcony and leapt into the sky eagwr to please his new dom and do as he was told.

August took his seat agin wrappjng his fingers around his glass of scotch and raised the glass to the screen that now had both his subs onscreen, as clark wrangled you into his arms wrapping the bedsheet arohnd you.

"Mission accomplished" he hummed smirking as clark wrapped you in your soiled bedsheet before you both disappeared off screen.

He stood and knocked back the last of his drink and padded across the pent house heading to the play room just as he heard both of hos little subs land and enter his home.

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Tom & Sabine (Commission for miner249er)

This is a sequel to Revolt of the Akuma, also a commission from @miner249er this will be multichaptered! 

Summary: Sequel to Revolt of the Akuma. How Paris and everyone there deals with Marinette’s akumatization and the many things born from it.

Previous Work                                                              Next Chapter

Business was slow but that somehow became the normal for Tom and Sabine, at first they resented it, they truly were busy bodies and they loved to work, needed to work, but then Marinette was akumatized and disappeared. Their baby girl was gone and it felt like there truly was nothing they could do about it. The worst part was they hadn’t even realized she was the akuma at first, they didn’t know things at school had been so bad that Hawkmoth was able to take advantage of their little Baguette’s emotions, and they hadn’t been there to help her through it. Their days seemed routine now, they would wake up at 3 AM instead of their regular 4 AM because of the guilt and the nightmares, they would prep the kitchen then Tom would start on the bread with his father Roland helping out since everything had taken its toll on Tom and he started to become forgetful in things to do with the bakery, even his timing was off. Meanwhile Sabine would attempt to do her morning meditation. The meditation was never successful nowadays because she truly could not clear her mind or calm her heart and memories of Marinette both good and bad would surface and she would be thrown into a fit of sobs that Gina tried her best to help calm. 

Roland learned the hard way that he no longer could hum his and his son’s song while making bread as it had reminded his son too much of Marinette and the larger man would break down in tears if he even heard the slightest bit of the song. He would call out for his daughter while hugging whatever he had in his hands close to his chest. Roland had never been the most affectionate of father’s, he wasn’t even affectionate with his wife, but when he broke down like that, Roland felt the urge to just hold his boy and comfort him. It pained him to see his son in so much pain, but Tom and Sabine were strong people and they picked themselves up in order to get through the day. 

Well, they tried their best and really that’s all anyone expected of the grieving parents. The day Marinette was akumatized and disappeared had been a normal day for them and maybe that’s what filled them with so much guilt. Their bakery was always busy and that was something they took pride in, before Marinette was born, the bakery had been their baby. They made it, helped and watched it grow, and they got to see it flourish. It was a lot of work and sometimes they would just get into this work zone where nothing else could grab their attention. Working with so many ovens and having to prepare so many things, there was only so much you could multitask before your brain felt full. Though those were only excuses, they had been neglecting their daughter and hadn’t realized it. Marinette knew how much they loved their bakery and how busy it could get and she always seemed to understand but now looking back on it maybe she had just pretended to be fine with it all. They tried their best to always ask how her day was when they would all have dinner together, but Tom would be the first to admit that sometimes even that just became routine rather than actual curiosity about their daughter’s day. 

They had deluded themselves into believing that Marinette’s world was rose tinted, and they had taken comfort in the lie. Maybe they truly just wanted to believe that Marinette was their always smiling baby girl and she had no problems to worry about because it would be easier to deal with than the reality. When Marinette had become fascinated with fashion and that fascination grew, Sabine and Tom had been happy and supportive of their daughter, yes their hearts hurt a bit since they had hoped that maybe she would take over the bakery for them, but then they noticed how much time her designing took up. It hurt to think about now but Sabine could remember thinking that it was a blessing that Marinette was distracted and busy because it meant they had more time for the bakery. The more they remembered their shortcomings, the more they felt. They felt too much now after not being able to for so long because of Hawkmoth.

After having to shut down any and all negative emotions, finally being able to express them was like breaking a dam. Crying was never just a little tears, it was always these heart wrenching sobs and it could be for the littlest of things like a broken toy or missing a bus. Anger, now anger was the scariest in everyone's opinion, once someone started yelling it was like they couldn’t stop, they would break things, maybe hoping to see a butterfly, then there was the crying. Everything ended in tears. Anger came quickly nowadays, more so than sadness, though maybe they worked hand in hand now. Tom had found himself more on the depressed side of things, everything made him miss his little Baguette, sometimes he still expected to hear her footsteps racing down from her room and out the door with a shout because she was running late. Sabine on the other hand, everything just made her angry, every little thing. She would even snap at Tom but she would immediately apologize because she knew it wasn’t his fault. If anything she was angry at herself, angry at the school, at Hawkmoth, Hell, even at their bakery.

 Some days she hated waking up to the work and the mingling, there were times where she was so close to just begging her husband to closing the shop for a while and taking a break or maybe closing it permanently. She hadn’t decided yet, but she just told herself to hold on, just hold on till their closing period or ‘vacation time’ as Marinette would say. Perhaps that was the reason why she wasn’t really giving it a serious thought, the whole giving up their boulangerie idea. It held memories, both good and heart-aching, of Marinette. Sabine would never talk about those memories with anyone but family now, but everytime she was working she couldn’t help but look over at their ‘Artisan Boulanger’ sticker at their storefront that was slightly crooked because Tom had been putting it on when Sabine had told him she was pregnant and he had slipped in shock and the sticker was forever a bit crooked. She couldn’t help the way her hands would clench over a box or bag when giving a customer their things, Marinette had designed them and each time she handed them over it felt like she was giving away a little piece of her daughter each time. 

“Have a wonderful day.” Sabine muttered to the latest customer of the day not even caring that her voice came out monotone.

“You as well! Merci Madame.” The young boy who had come in thanked her but Sabine just watched impassively as he hurried over to his friend. “Dude can you believe it? We get to eat pastries that the Protector ate!”

“Correction, we get to eat pastries that Ladybug ate.” His friend responded.

“That hasn’t been proven yet. That’s all just speculation man.” The first boy laughed as they made their way to the door and Sabine had to take in a deep breath or else she might have thrown something. How dare they come into their shop and talk about their daughter as though she wasn’t a person. How dare they treat her akumatization as some spectacle for them to worship and admire. How dare them all.

“Speculation? You are sorely mistaken bro, look at all the evidence! I’ll send you all the links then you’ll see.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sabine just stared at the young men even after they had left until she no longer could make them out. This. This was why she no longer wanted the bakery, it no longer held the same joy it had when Marinette was there and Sabine and Tom hadn’t even known it until she was gone. 

“Bonjour Madame.” Sabine was ripped from her musings by another customer walking in, a regular in fact, Mlle Josephine Bernard. She had been coming to their boulangerie since they first opened and had always been very kind to Marinette. In fact, she commissioned Marinette a few times as well.

“Bonjour Joséphine." Sabine greeted with a small smile, the most she could manage.

“One rhubarb tart please and a pain de campagne. I’m making stew tonight and my fiance loves when I pair it with your bread.” Joséphine said with a kind smile as she took out her money and change and placed it on the saucer on the counter.

Sabine couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped, Joséphine always had exact change and honestly it was a welcome habit to Sabine. “Are you going to share the tart for dessert? It is small, are you certain you would like just one?”

“Oh no, that’s just for me. Our little secret okay?”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Sabine promised as she swiftly gathered Joséphine’s order, once she made her back to the counter to hand everything to the woman she was caught off guard when said woman placed her hand on top of Sabine’s.

“How are you holding up Sabine?” 

First instincts were yelling at her to lie, to say everything was fine despite everyone knowing it was not, but another part of her was yearning for reassurance that wasn’t from her husband or his parents. “I...I’m trying. But it’s hard. It’s hard when people come in and talk about my daughter as if she’s this thing that is more than human, more than just a teenager. They don’t even say her name anymore. Tom and I have had to move and lock away her things because...because people have broken in and stolen her belongings in order to steal or collect them. The police have been no help on that front. They told us to just get better locks. As if it is our fault that people are breaking in.” Sabine took in a shaky breath before continuing, “We get people who leave “gifts” instead. They are letters to Tom and I, accusing us of abusing Marinette...of neglecting our baby. They seem to think we don’t care about what happened to her Joséphine. We’ve had to replace some windows after one incident with a rock and some spray paint.”

“Oh my goodness Sabine! I’m so sorry. You and Tom don’t deserve any of that.” Joséphine gasped out, but Sabine wanted to argue that maybe they did. “That is just cruel and disgusting. If you two ever need anything please don’t hesitate to ask, or if you just need to talk or get out of the house for awhile, call me okay? Things...things will get better.”

“Merci Joséphine...maybe I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your treats and tell me how Stephan likes everything okay?” Sabine responded after a while.

“I will...I will keep you and Tom and Marinette in my prayers. Merci Madame.” Joséphine said before leaving. 

Sabine’s movements felt robotic as she walked over to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign letting everyone know they would be closing for lunch. It was a small mercy that they were already at the middle of their day. Thankfully Roland and Gina would have lunch ready for them, they had been so helpful through everything but sometimes Sabine couldn’t help but feel like even they blamed Tom and Sabine for what happened to Marinette. Sabine knew how much Gina adored Marinette and she could see how much getting to know Marinette had meant to Roland, to have their granddaughter gone so all of a sudden, they too were grieving in the way they best knew how. They parented and distracted themselves with helping out Tom and Sabine as much as they could, that would be why they were staying with them. She knew how Roland was about them being late to lunch so Sabine made her way to the kitchen to see Tom baking but it looked like he was doing everything on autopilot, she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even heard Joséphine come in. 

“Tom. Sweetheart. It’s lunchtime, let’s go eat with your parents.” She mumbled as she placed a soft hand on Tom’s shoulder stopping him from decorating the last of the cupcakes he had made. 

“Oh...Lunchtime already?”

“Yeah. Here let me put those on display then we’ll head on up.” She took the tray of cupcakes gently from him and went out to the front again to put them on display where she saw several people looking in their shop. She decided to just ignore them...and the camera flashes, though maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull the security gates down just while they were upstairs for lunch. In fact that’s exactly what she did. “Ready to head up dear?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, ready. Let’s go eat. It’s been a long morning.” Tom said with a small smile. She felt like it was more for her benefit but she still appreciated it all the same. Once they went upstairs they went through the motions of eating lunch and if someone asked Tom and Sabine what they had eaten, they wouldn’t have been able to answer, but they gave the obligatory remarks of, “This is so good thank you,” and,” So good. Maybe you can make it again sometime.” Maybe Roland and Gina saw through them, they probably had and the fact they made no comment about it truly was a blessing. As a way to avoid conversation if they needed to Sabine turned on the television and it just so happened to be the news.

“And as promised viewers video footage of The Protector in action. This footage was donated to us by an anonymous source who had happened upon The Protector out in the open when she was akumatized. I want to warn everybody, the footage may be shocking to some viewers. Roll the clip please.” Nobody spoke. How could they? Sure they knew people still had some weird fascination with their daughter and granddaughter’s akumatization but the news stations had stopped reporting on it or at least they thought they had. Nadja certainly hadn’t given them a heads up about this little ‘special’ of theirs like she had done previously, and yet here they were watching her and Alec talking about their daughter and they wouldn’t even say her name. She has a name. Sabine robotically pressed on the remote to see more info on the program and had to swallow back bile, ‘The Protector Really Paris’s Protector?’ that was the title and already Sabine could feel her anger rising. She didn’t bother reading the summary, she already knew what this special was about.

 She watched as her daughter, her baby girl, bent down in a patch of butterfly bushes crying her eyes out, sobbing out her hurt for anyone and everyone to hear. Her baby, even in the distance of the camera, looked so angry, so torn, she should never had to have felt like that. The video continued on with this person slowly zooming in on Marinette and Sabine had to wonder why this person was recording at all. She could never understand people’s obsessions with filming akumas, at least many filmed from a distance other than Alya and sometimes Nadja but it was always after the fact the person was akumatized. Maybe that’s why this particular video was bothering her so much, this person, whoever they were, they were filming her daughter breaking down because they knew at any moment she would be akumatized or, and the idea made her sick to her stomach, they were hoping she would be akumatized. They were hoping for a chance to have a video go viral, maybe they weren’t  but that’s the only thing that Sabine could rationalize why they would be filming her teenage daughter in the first place.

The video was a bit shaky as it seemed like the person filming didn’t want to be seen even though there was no one else there. Sabine hadn’t realized she started crying until she felt the tears hit her hand. She hated seeing Marinette in pain and her not being able to comfort her. She, her husband, and his parents watched with bated breath as they saw an akuma finally fly into frame and slowly make its way towards Marinette. Sabine wanted to shout out a warning, do something, but she  knew it was pointless and that just made the tears fall more. Everyone watching could tell that Marinette hadn’t noticed the akuma at all as she was still sobbing and wailing, Sabine could feel Tom squeeze her hand and she squeezed his right back. Then the akuma landed and merged but that wasn’t the shocking part, they had to watch their daughter stare at nothing with too-wide eyes and the familiar symbol of Hawkmoth over her face sit there as dozens...no, maybe hundreds of butterflies, white butterflies surrounded Marinette and landed on her body. 

Then a bright light flashed, it was so unlike any akumatization anyone had seen, the butterflies were gone but if you looked closely at the fading light surrounding Marinette you could see the faint flutter of wings. Then she stood up, the Protector stood up. Sabine sobbed and not for the first time cursed at her daughters classmates, they had been around Marinette the most, they knew her daughter, she did everything for them and yet they treated her like that. To the point of akumatization. Sabine prayed that her little girl wasn’t actually Ladybug like it was speculated, even if it made sense, because that would mean her daughter had been suffering through more than just everything going on at school and really, Sabine wasn’t ready to face all of that just yet.

“Now before we discuss everything in that video I will say we do have many more to share so stay tuned Paris!”

Next Chapter

[haechanokeh]

I'm Right For You [pt.2 ]

[teaser/ prologue] [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ]

(you can play Die For You by The Weeknd while reading this 😌)

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning (chapter): handjob, public, fingering,

warning: corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, anal sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

I think I'm right for you, babe. You know what I'm thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect and I know that you're worth it I can't walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

class ended and you're packing your things, and so your seatmate for today- mark.

"mark, do you want to eat with us?" your other classmates always invite mark.

"sure, wait. Do you want to eat with-"

you carry your bag and immediately left the room. he's the last person you want to be with, after what happened yesterday. mark confessed that he likes you and now you just can't talk to him.

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you're in the library trying to be "productive" and pretending to be "studious". you tied your hair, hyping yourself that you will study but 3 minutes after opening your thick pharmacology book, you took a nap.

mark entered the almost empty library. there's a lot of vacant tables and chairs but he's looking for the best spot, until he saw your sleeping face... from a far. mark has a keen eyes, especially when it comes to you. he walked towards your place and carefully sat beside you cautious in his movements to prevent waking you up. he put his bag on the vacant seat beside him and turned his head on you. you're squished side of your face against the table made him smile. lying at his classmates is worth it.

unaware of your surrounding, you didn't know mark was now sitting beside you. he saw your book was opened in diuretics chapter so he opened his own book at the same page as yours. he started writing notes, for you.

mark likes you but he's having a hard time to get close to you. not sure but he thinks that you're avoiding him, you immediately dismisses his presence when he's approaching you. you weren't rude when you do that though, you just speak very shortly with him. mark doesn't have a concrete reason why he likes you, but everytime he looks at your serine personally and your innocent face t brings him calmness. sometimes he just catching himself staring at you during class.

after he wrote the key points, he transferred all the sticky notes on the pad. he clicked the pen and look at you.

"you're still sleeping, wow." he whispered but with amusement. you're sleeping for 2 hours already. his eyes landed on your slightly parted plump lips.

dirty thoughts running in his head. he imagined your lips wrapped around his dick. yeah, the mark everyone look up to thinks like this towards you. he's not like this to anyone except you, he was also shock to on the effects you give him. mark was afraid you became an obsession, well too late for that.

he removed your specs, folded it and put it on the top of the table. he just watches you sleep, not caring whether other find it creepy.

suddenly your phone alarmed, you woke up immediately and to your panic you can't find your phone which was actually just infront of you, so mark was the one who off your alarm. you turn your head to look at him.

"thank you." you gave him an awkward smile. you look around and you saw from afar the librarian was glaring at you. you gave her an apologetic face and she returned to her seat.

he extended his arms and his thumb touched the side of your lips down to your chin. you felt a burning sensation from his thumb.

"welcome." he gave you his signature warm friendly smile.

you look down because you felt uncomfortable once again. your eyes caught a wet pool on the book, later you realize that mark wiped your drool. heat of embarrassment took over your face.

"let's eat?" he asked, lowering his face and moving it close to you. he wanted you to see his face, which you did. you're heart beating so fucking fast.

"i have to study." you said as an alibi.

"really?" he was unconvinced and playfully gave you a doubt look.

study my ass! I JUST WOKE UP!

"tomorrow is the case study, aren't we supposed to study together?" he sat up straight.

"we already did yes-" suddenly, his confession popped out from your head. "yesterday." you whispered, a ball of saliva almost stuck on your throat.

"really? i really don’t recall anything though.” he pretend to be naive. your eyes widen.

“you can’t remember anything? that’s impossible, you even confess to me... i mean...” shame crossed in you. please, swallow me my dear land. "mark, please let me study. i'm not like you."

he chuckled. "okay, but use my notes. here." he pushed towards you the notes he did while you were sleeping. your eyes gleamed like a sun.

"really?" you said excitedly.

"shhh!" you heard the librarian, you covered your mouth.

"really?" you asked again as confirmation. he giggled and nodded his head.

he admiringly stared at you goshing over his notes, he felt a weird sensation in his heart. mark was smiling like an idiot, this was his first time to see you smiling or happy when he’s around.

"thank you mark for saving me." you definitely forget the awkwardness between you. you looked at him sending him gratitude look.

without any words, you excitedly study his note. you're so oblivious that you didn't notice mark placed his hand on your thigh. horniness strike him.

your concentration broke when he squeezed your thigh. you turned your head to face him, there was uneasiness in your stomach when you face him again. the other mark that melt your knees.

he moved his face closer and whispered in your ears.

"y/n, i had a hard time sleeping last night. you know why?"

"why?" voice shaking and hands are sweaty while you're holding his notes.

"you never left my head, you kept on bothering me. i fantasize you last night, crying and begging to suck my dick with your small mouth and juicy lips." he huskily said and gripped your thigh tighter.

you squeezed your thighs together as you felt ache on your pussy. your breathing became ragged, chest rose heavily. you stare in those dark-lustful pair of eyes.

"i was horny last night, like what i'm feeling right now." his eyes glued in your lips.

he reached for your right hand and guided it to his hard cock. you gasped, and in surprise you take away your hand from his hardness but mark caught you and put it back.

"can you feel how hard i am right now? do you know how painful is it for me?" he grunted low. his lips touches your every time he speaks. "i need your help, y/n please." there was urgency in his voice.

"h-ow?" stuttering because of nervousness but with hidden excitement.

you heard a zipped sound. you look down and his hard flesh peeking through his boxers. he pulled it down revealing his standing cock. you almost drool, it's thick, veiny, and long. he planted a small kiss on your ears and folded your hands wrapping it around his dick. your lips parted letting out a breath.

his dick was hot, hard, and has a lot of texture- you can feel his vein. you don't believe that when a guy's hands are veiny, and so their cock... but mark is the living statement.

"move." he commanded. you pushed down your palm around his cock, and start pumping it slowly.

"like this?" you asked innocently.

mark saw your submissive look again, doll-like eyes shinning with innocence but full of lust.

"yes, baby. fuck faster, you're doing great." he complimented you, teeth gritting. he put his left arm across your shoulder and his other arm resting on the table.

both of you didn't care whether you're about to get caught or not. you enjoy the playful desires you share with each other. he smashed his lips to your soft lips. tongue caressing each other but careful not to produce noises. you're pumping him hard and fast, you felt cramp in your wrist but didn't stop. his hands formed into fist, knuckled getting white.

he moaned inside your mouth when he reach his climax. you felt the hot sticky liquid on your hands. you broke the kiss and look down to see what does it look like to have his cum on your hand. your eyes looked up and gaze into his eyes, he saw guilt, regret, and shame.

“what am i doing mark?” you bit your lower lip and your eyes watering. you know this is wrong, but when you’re with him all the rationality in you just evaporates. you became terrified of what you became and what you will have become. “what are you turning me into?”

mark was satisfied when he heard that coming out from your mouth, that means he has effect to you. he knew, because he felt the same from you.

“same goes to me, y/n. don’t you get it there’s something bet-” he was cut off when there were tiny voices. both of you turned your head towards the library entrance and there were bunch of seniors coming in. mark quickly zipped his pants and you wipe his cum on his black sweatshirt. you both looked at each other, you just realize what you did.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered and shoved your head against the book. he snickered on your cuteness and clumsiness.

“hey mark.” you froze when the girl seniors approached mark. you stay still, face against the book.

“oh, hi.” he greeted back, giving them a forced smile.

“i saw them on the pizza house, i thought you’re there? i was about to go. good thing you’re here.” she said and you heard some chairs being pulled out.

I need to go fudge, this is probably why i don’t like mark, he’s surrounded by people. knowing you, you’re allergic to people.

you stood up and gather your things.

“where are you going?” mark asked in curiosity and confusion while watching you.

“hmm?” you look at him and carried your back and book. the seniors were staring at you too. “oh, my mom said i have to go for groceries, heheeh empty fridge.” you LIED again. his brow rose.

he was looking at you but not in your face though and you have no time to pay attention to that.

“again? yesterday you went-” you did not let him finish.

“i have to go bye!”

“SHHH!” 

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you couldn't ignore your wetness beneath you. you were having a hard time walking because of the weird feeling and you felt discomfort on your abdomen part. obviously, you're horny and you knew that. you quickly turned to the right corner to use the girl's comfort room. you masturbate especially everytime you watch porn, and you badly need to masturbate right now without watching porn. you entered one of the cubicle and when you were about to close it, a hand appeared stopping the door.

mark?

he stepped inside the cubicle which made you step back , the behind of your knees touched the toilet seat. you heard and clicked sound, he closed the door.

“wait, weren’t you...” you were speechless as you point your finger outside but you were actually pertaining to the library.

why the hell is he everywhere? does he have roller blades on his feet?

"i can smell you." he said looking down, you were curious of what he was looking at but you were offended from his statement.

"excuse me?" you scoffed.

"you were standing infront of me before you leave me, too close and i'm not sure if that's the smell because it was my first time but..." he gaze straight into your eyes. he palmed your pussy which made you yelp. "it was sweet and erotic, are you horny right now?"

you gulped in embarrassment, you want to be swallowed whole by the soil. you were that wet from giving him a handjob!

"were you planning to masturbate?" his eyes switched into dark and dominating. you wonder, how can he guess everything right?

his palmed between your legs made it hard for you to control your desire. you grabbed his wrist.

"i need to cum." you gave him your pleading eyes.

your pleading sweet voice and eyes, and the way you say the word cum went straight into his dick. he never expected that word to come out from your mouth. when it did, he want to grant you.

"you're so special." he whispered. he unzipped your jeans and pulled it down above your knees which slightly made him annoyed because it was hard to pull it down. he gave your dump panty and glance because he can smell it, it wasn't a bad smell it was the opposite. it was sweet, very aromatic.

you just watch him while holding on his shoulder for balance. he stood up straight. you where biting your lips while staring at his handsome face through your lashes.

"mark..." you murmur as you were growing impatient. mark chuckled.

"okay, baby." he called you baby, and your heart lifted... and so as your right leg using his left arm. he hang your leg on his arm.

"what are you doing?" he didn't answer you.

he palmed your already sticky and wet pussy which made you bite your lower lip. he rubbed it in circular motion, you suppressed your moan because goodness it feels so good but you're afraid someone will hear you. he pulled your panty aside and rubbed your slit and clit, hard but slowly. your eyes were squeezing shut and enjoy the feeling. his lips pay attention on your jaw.

"mark, i want to cu- go. please." you whimpered.

he inserted his two finger and started to thrust it inside you while his thumb were flatly rubbing your clit.

"ah... hmmm" you couldn't suppress your moan anymore. "it feels so good." you cried and throw your head back gripping mark shoulder.

mark switched his attention from your jaw to your neck, licking and kissing it. he started to fasten the pace. your were producing a squelching sound.

"please, please, please i need to cum... oh f- yes yes." your eyes rolled back, you almost saw your brains. your legs felt tension causing your leg being lifted to flex straight, toes folded.

"are you cumming now, y/n? hmm?" he said against your neck. you nodded aggressively.

"i'm so close, so close" you were mewling. "ahh!" you clenched mark's fingers and produced a long cry when you finally reached your climax.

you became weak, your limbs became jelly. you were about to fall, good thing mark catched you before that happened. your arms have no energy to hold onto mark.

"are you okay?" mark genuinely asked. "did i overdo it?" growing concern feed him.

you shook your head, head empty, and catching your breath. you have low stamina, this already made you almost pass out? what more if he fuck you?

you shook your heard want to remove those perverted thoughts, and why the hell you thought of mark?

"seat down y/n." he made you seat on the toilet. suddenly, your phone rang. mark, without hesitation looked for your phone inside your bag. he looked at the name. "your mom." he cleared his throught and was about to answer but you quickly snatched it.

there's no way you want your mom to hear a male voice.

"mom?" you answered through your heavy breathing.

"y/n? why are you panting? are you okay?"

"ah, y-yes. i just ran from ahm nevermind i just ran that's it. why are you calling me?" mark intently watching you.

"oh, i forgot a file in our house, it's on top of my table, bring it here, okay?" she asked for your favor.

"yes." you sighed. your mom always forget something.

"okay, love you!" and she hang up.

you stood up. you look down as you felt your stickiness between your legs. you just pulled up your underware and pants.

"i need to go home, i'll go out first and make sure the coat is clear then you'll go out. okay?" you were still panting, catching your breath.

"i can drive you home." he said. there goes again, the warmth in his eyes. you were staring each other, mark looked so determined.

"promise me you will not do anything. i have no energy, mark." you sighed in defeat.

he laughed and pinched your cheek.

"sure." he said, smiling but deep inside he was disappointed. might not be visible because his sweatshirt was covering it, but he is painfully hard right now.

[lepusrufus]

Lil' Mia and Miranda thing since I dragged you guys down the rarepair hell with me~

---

Lab equipment was really not meant to blend well within a lived-in home. And it didn't. The plush carpet on top of wooden floors giving way to the smooth lab flooring that squeaked under boots not appropriate for the setting created an odd contrast. Not that that was uncharacteristic for Miranda, any of her workspaces falling perfectly under the description of an organized mess, with particular emphasis on mess.

With Rose sleeping peacefully in the room generously, suspiciously so, provided by Miranda, Mia decided to stretch her legs by walking around the manor, the baby monitor connected to her phone. The building was relatively big, albeit quite old, tucked in the woods somewhere between the Beneviento house and the factory, with a tunnel conveniently connecting it to the labs running under the town. It had close to no spatial organization, bedrooms and labs and storage rooms alternating by patterns known only by the so-called goddess, or most likely not even by her.

Mia did not trust the woman. Not with the memories of the prison cell and the kidnapping of her daughter for experiments still fresh in her mind. But, the tiredness of motherhood and the odd loneliness that came with being the only two inhabitants of the house that were capable of coherent speech as of now, had her longing for some company.

It was an easy task finding Miranda, the soft cries of Eva guiding her down a short hallway to a lab door left ajar. Inside, the woman was sat at a desk, a laptop with half written reports and notes in front of her, pushed out of the grasp of the fussing infant in her arms. Miranda was far too busy trying to calm her daughter down enough to fall asleep to notice Mia leaning on the doorframe, curiously observing the scene. Oddly human, in her failing attempt to get her child to stop crying, when at any given time she could get anyone to kneel before her and bend over backwards to her every whim. Yet a small infant was giving her so much trouble.

"Need a hand?" Mia offered with a small chuckle. Should she even offer her help?

"I am fine thank you." But a slightly louder wail from Eva came with perfect timing to disprove her words.

Miranda's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly as her eyes closed slowly, the usual makeup replaced by dark circles, testimony to the long hours spent going through decades of research and reports while also caring for her newly reborn daughter. It was oddly bittersweet, to see a woman so dignified otherwise all but beg the small child to go to sleep so she could finish her work.

Work, Mia concluded, that was rather essential for the whole place, and also her home for now, to continue existing the way it was. With a sigh she walked up to the desk and gently stoked Eva's short brunette hair. "Here, let me hold her. At least until you finish typing whatever it is you're doing," she said waving a hand in the direction of the forgotten computer, who's screen had turned black by now.

There were a few long seconds of hesitation, but a weary glance at the mountain of files on the other side of the desk that she was yet to go through convinced Miranda to finally allow her daughter slip into Mia's arms. It took maybe five minutes of cooing and a one sided conversation made in silly voices to turn the cries into giggles, small hands trying to grasp at Mia's finger that was ticklishly caressing puffy cheeks. Exhausted from crying, Eva's eyes slowly fluttered shut and she was gingerly lowered into a crib set by the desk, one of the many scattered around the house.

Miranda watched the scene unfold with uncharacteristic softness slipping by the icy mask of her steely eyes. Even goddesses can be caught by surprise it seemed, and whether it was due to the apparent skills that Mia had with calming Eva down or at how she was willing to help despite their precarious position was up to debate.

"Shouldn't you be better at this," Mia asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit in. "I know it's been, what, two or three centuries or something but haven't you done this before?"

Her question was obviously poking fun for the most part, but Miranda couldn't help the tired sigh that crawled its way from the depths of her now useless lungs.

"No, actually. I haven't," she responded curtly as she grabbed one of the files and opened it in order to transcribe its contents in a digital file. "At least not on my own," she added upon remembering the numerous subjects she helped raise during her time working with The Connections.

"Oh? Did you have a sweet loving husband once upon a time? Do tell me more," Mia said leaning her chin on her palms as if she were a teenager at a sleepover talking about crushes, although the memory of Ethan clawing its way to the forefront of her thoughts made her grimace slightly, until she pushed it back down in the depths of her mind.

It was foolish perhaps, acting like that around a woman that could, and would with the right motivation, kill her in the blink of an eye. Truth be told though, Mia was bored out of her mind, so what better way to pass the time than push Miranda's buttons, especially when she seemed too tired to retaliate.

The so-called goddess grimaced, at least ten different reasons to find the thought outrageous flashing through her mind and, settling on the most obvious one, looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was a nun."

Mia leaned back in her chair, looking at the black head covering hanging from a hook behind the door, together with black robes. She had to wonder if they were the same ancient ones or if she replaced them every once in a while.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," she chuckled. "A nun turned goddess. How ironic don't you think."

"Worshipping was never quite up my alley. And neither were men," she replied flatly, turning the pages in front of her and typing the relevant information in the file she had open on the screen.

Mia's eyes widened slightly with an amused oh. "So was she raised by the convent then?"

Was this information really to be given out? Mirada did not like talking about her past, or personal information in general. Gods did not need backstories, they simply were.

She sighed. "No, no. Her parents died when she was four and with nobody else to look for her, she was brought to us." Miranda gave a small shrug, pausing to type up decades old results on lycans. "I was the newest there, so the nuns dumped her on me. I was so mad at first, but she's always been such a brilliant little girl, even back then. She would ask for a bedtime story and did not complain when I'd start reading from one of the medical books I stole from the merchant. There was just something about her that made her grow on me."

With the paragraph done, she pushed her chair back, quietly so as to not have its legs scratch against the linoleum floor, and walked to another, smaller desk pushed against a wall. From there, she walked back to the crib where the small infant was sleeping peacefully, a small doll in hand. Doll that Mia recognized immediately, as an identical one was by her own daughter's sleeping form, back in their room. It was a small replica of Angie, plush and soft to the touch, unlike its real life wooden counterpart, the white dress made of delicate silk. Both toys had been made by Donna herself as gifts.

"But as you can guess, she was well past a toddler when she was placed in my care," Miranda finished, leaving the doll just by her sleeping daughter's side.

"So you suck with babies," Mia concluded with a grin. She would have laughed, but had enough clarity of mind to be quiet.

Miranda simply gave her a tired glare before rolling her eyes. She went back to her desk and opened a new file to be transcribed, this one on the reservoir's structure.

"I can care for them," she started, an odd almost imperceptible strain in her voice. "It just gets trickier when it's my own daughter and not an act."

Mia nodded absent mindedly, eyes darting to Eva. To see a woman with such power and ruthlessness, who could level the whole town to the ground if she so pleased, show such raw genuine affection towards the child made some of the notions in her brain crumble to the ground. Miranda was still the same woman who, ironically enough, experimented on more children than she cared to count, but then again Mia was also a willing participant in said experiments so was she really that much better?

She definitely was, Mia concluded, choosing to ignore a small pang at her heart when she watched all the ice in those gray eyes melt into tenderness while looking at her daughter. Instead, she started toying with one of the many pens scattered on the desk.

"Since I'm staying here, I don't mind helping you out with her," Mia said quietly, keeping her eyes on the small giraffe doodle she was doing on a napkin.

It wasn't for Miranda's sake really. She simply wanted the best for Eva, the child completely innocent unlike the atrocities committed by her mother throughout the last few centuries. Besides, it would be nice for Rose to have a friend not unlike herself, given the yet to be understood power both girls possessed.

"There's no need-"

"Consider it a thank you for letting us stay here, without a sniper pointing at my daughter's head at all times," Mia finished, a slither of ire slipping into her tone on the last words, the memory of a rookie agent panicking and pointing his gun to Rose for the unforgivable crime of being a hungry crying child seared behind her eyelids.

Miranda sighed, an odd sense of relief washing over her. After centuries of trying to bring her back, you'd think the she would do anything to spend each and every second with Eva, not letting anyone else care for her in any capacity, but truth be told, the prospect of not facing motherhood completely alone, even if Mia was helping her solely out of some sense of obligation, did not sound half bad.

"As you wish," she finally said, going back to the half written paragraph her mind drifted away from minutes earlier.

[justafewsmallsteps]

A look into LadyNoir for my Reversal AU, The Other Way Around. You don’t really need to read the other parts to get this one :)

Title: The Other Way Around, Part 3 Pairing: Lovesquare (LadyNoir)   Rating: G+ Word Count: 2.5K

The first time Marinette really interacted with a cat was at a friend’s house. She was six years old at her very first sleepover. Nervous and shy, she’d spent the majority of the evening worrying about what would happen once the lights were out. She’d never had to sleep through a night without her parents or family with her. No amount of cartoons or pillow fights could fully ease the fear of impending darkness.

The other three girls seemed totally adjusted and excited, but Marinette could hardly eat dinner even though it was pizza from their favorite spot. Then she nearly burst into tears at the table when they served the cookies her parents had sent with her, overwhelmed with missing them so badly. With her eyes stinging and her voice ready to cry out that they should call home to pick her up, Button the cat suddenly sprung onto her lap. She was a fluffy tan thing with two black dots going down the center of her back, hence her name. In that moment she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie, albeit one that blinked up at Marinette’s face with huge, adorable brown eyes. The cat smooshed her head against the girl’s stomach, sat down, and began to purr. In her surprise and fascination, young Marinette forgot what she was so upset over.

She never had pets growing up—the hair was too much to maintain when her family also lived in a bakery—so she hadn’t any courage to approach Button before, even when the other girls had spent time petting her. She knew cats had claws and their yawns revealed sharp, pointy teeth. The last thing she wanted was to get scratched or bitten when she was already terrified. Cats had been a scary mystery. Button was small and fluffy and warm. The moment she cuddled up to her, Marinette fell in love.

After that day, cats became her favorite animal, and while she still wasn’t allowed to have one (despite the begging and puppy eyes that her mother valiantly fought against with gentle reasoning), Marinette surrounded herself with them as a good luck charm. She had kitty keychains, plush toys, cat-covered folders to take to class, and cat-print bedsheets. The obsessive phase lasted for three years, but the fondness stayed even when her room took on a pink and floral theme to match her changing design aesthetic. Obviously when she found the giant body pillow shaped like a cat, she knew she had to have it anyway. After long days of dealing with Chloe’s yapping and her own special trademark combination of back luck and clumsiness, hugging that massive squishy cat became her ultimate comfort.

That was, until another cat fell into her lap. Well, crashed into her entire body was more what happened.

When she was gifted her miraculous, Marinette thought herself a poor fit for a superhero. She liked leadership positions and really didn’t have a big problem taking charge when needed, but saving lives was a ton of pressure. She’d thrown her yoyo randomly, not sure of a single move she made, and in doing so managed to tangle her partner and herself up despite the superpowers. Chat Noir seemed more natural, and surely he deserved a partner that had the confidence to match his skills instead of her. Marinette was stuck in her head with apprehension. She’d totally screwed up her very first mission by letting the akuma multiply instead of purifying it. She wasn’t excited to be a hero. She was terrified.

Maybe it was the cat bias that made her instantly trust Chat Noir, but it was the way he put his warm hands so squarely on her shoulders and assured her that she could do this, that made her fall in love. It was the second time a cat had saved her from giving in to her fears.

He gave her the courage to stand up to Hawkmoth, and the moment she vowed to take him down was a triumph of bravery. She wouldn’t have been able to do that without him.

Of course she fell for him.

He didn’t make it any easier for her as they got closer. He was just so endearingly sweet, throwing compliments at her all the time for encouragement.

If only she didn’t turn into an absolute pile of goo whenever he did. At least she was always able to pull herself together to get the job done, but it was his fault. What could anyone expect from her when her partner was talented, smart, super handsome, and somehow humble about all of it?

She’d witnessed how he avoided the spotlight in favor of checking up with akuma victims. She’d seen him time after time go out of his way to protect others, especially her, from harm’s way. And after he did all those things he’d throw her the credit as if she was the one saving the day.

They worked together well, reading each other’s moves and adapting to each other’s pace. But he never needed the attention, happy to just get the mission done. It was a side of him that she got to see when the crowds weren’t looking, proud at what they’d accomplished while holding his fist out to hers in solidarity to say, “We did it!” Together. Always together.

But then their miraculouses would beep, and they’d have to go their separate ways with her casting lingering glances towards whichever horizon he’d disappear off to.

At least during some of their mutual patrols they had time to talk. She looked forward to each one, no matter what other responsibilities she had waiting for her once it was over. Getting to know her partner was such a highlight to her identity as Ladybug. There was the triumph of victory, the thrill of the physics defying feats she could accomplish, the heartwarming gratitude of the citizens… and then there was this: sitting at the top of the Eiffel with their feeting dangling in the cool Parisian air, aimlessly talking above a safe city set aglow with evening lights; the warm sense of security yet tingling excitement of hanging out with her one and only crush.

“Favorite hot drink?” she wondered.

Asking non-identifying questions was their way of bonding without compromising themselves.

Chat Noir hummed thoughtfully over a cookie—raspberry macarons, a favorite she had learned fairly early on. “The hot chocolate you brought in the winter was great. Probably the best I’ve ever had, actually.”

She blushed and kicked her feet nervously. She swore that she would’ve tripped if they’d been walking. Somehow his compliments did that to her. “T-thanks.”

He grabbed another macaron and turned it over, studying the ruffled feet as he added, “Otherwise I’m really fond of tea. My mother liked English high tea; always insisted we have a tea break at some point in the day. When I was a kid I was only in it for the cookies and sandwiches, but at this point I like the drink too. It's nostalgic.”

He always got wistful when he spoke about his mother, but Marinette knew that train of thought would lead them to somewhere too personal. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to know more about him. Quite the opposite, but they both knew that it wasn’t safe yet. There had been too many close calls. She followed up with another question. “Any tea in particular?”

“Earl grey, usually. I’m a fan of London Fogs over coffee.”

She smiled down, looking at her home’s direction. They had a lovely macaron with that flavor as well, she thought. She could bring him a variety box next time. Maybe one day they could do tea together in some fashion. A picnic, perhaps? High tea during an evening patrol seemed a bit strange, but she could always brew him a decaf in a thermos so he wouldn’t be hopped up on caffeine. Or maybe that was too much if she was already bringing the same flavor in a cookie. Did hot chocolate go well with earl grey? What about the raspberry? Plenty of people ordered a variety of flavors all the time. Maybe she should throw in a few others for balance, like the rose ones. Wait, were rose flavored macarons too romantic? Would it seem like a date if she brought him flower-flavored food? Not that she didn’t want to date him because of course she did but—

“Deep in thought, Ladybug?”

Chat Noir’s twinkling green eyes greeted her, just a few centimeters from her face. He must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

Surprised, she suddenly scooted back and flailed. “Oh!” Thankfully she was securely seated on the beam enough to not begin a sad plummet to the ground. Desserts were well and good, but she’d prefer to avoid becoming a polka dotted pancake. “Yes, sorry! Did you say something?”

He laughed his magical laugh, accustomed to her tendency to get lost in her own head. “No need to apologize. I was just saying that it was my turn to ask a question before we turn in for the night.”

Ah, was it already time to go back? Sheepishly, the heroine smiled. “Did you already ask it?”

A flash of teeth showed off his mirthful grin. “I did.”

“Sorry.” He had already told her not to apologize, but it was embarrassing that she was fantasizing about dating him when he was literally sitting besides her. “What was it again?”

“I asked if you’ve been on a date lately, Little Lady.”

Oh.

Her mind short-circuited. Had she been babbling out loud? How desperate had she sounded? “What? Me! Doing to date you? I mean, going on a date with someyou? Someone!”

If her slip up meant anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. He never did. Did she want him to?

“Yep. Like a romantic one-on-one date. I, uh,” he bashfully scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

A rush of blood warmed her cheeks. “Y-you were?” Thinking about dating someone? Her? Them? Romantically!

He avoided her eyes, choosing to look up instead as he laughed nervously. “For a while now. I don’t even think I could, but there’s a girl…”

I’m a girl, her brain supplied with excitement.

“You can’t ask her?”

He clicked his tongue. “There’s a few conflicts. First of all, I don’t know how she really feels about me, and… I don’t know how to say the other part without really giving anything away.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and gave him time, either out of courtesy or because she was freaking out and incapable of speech.

“Um, it’s like… an occupational issue, I guess. I don’t know if I’d be allowed, in a sense. Then there’s the issue that I know nearly nothing about dating,” he explained.

For all his vagueness, she fit his description enough. She’d never outright confessed to being in love with him, so he didn’t know her feelings. Also they weren’t really supposed to date with all their responsibilities, and wasn’t that just part of their job as heroes? So for all intents and purposes, Chat Noir really could have been talking about her. The possibility made her head spin.

Her hope was strung on a tightrope; a precarious position that could go either way. She could ask him directly if he meant someone in his civilian life or if by some miracle he was talking about her—or she could stay on the precipice between disappointment and bliss. But for all her clumsiness, Marinette preferred balance whenever she could manage it. So she stayed her course, eyes far from looking down at the possibilities and instead on the objective: answer him.

“I haven’t been on a real date recently, no.”

She looked for any hint about his feelings in his response, any indication that he was relieved or just pitied her. He simply nodded, leaving her clueless as she continued to walk the tightrope.

“Same,” he let out a whiny sigh. “I guess I can’t really ask for advice then. I’m terrible when it comes to romance.”

She traced one of her spots with a gloved finger, trying to keep a clear mind despite the slight relief that her crush wasn’t out on dates all the time. “I doubt it. You’re so amazing, you’d make any girl really happy and lucky to be with you.” Saying those words aloud had her face feeling as red as her suit.

“Luck is your department, LB,” he grinned. “I imagine admirers are chasing you left and right.”

“Not in any serious manner,” Adrien’s corny and outlandish attempts to get her attention came to mind. He was just a flirt by nature, hardly what someone would consider a real admirer. “I… I’d be happy to go on a date with somebody who really liked me though.”

He gave her a thoughtful look that made her pause.

She stood up suddenly. “I mean, not just anybody! Like… if I knew they actually liked me, then I might give it a chance? Depending on the person.”

Chat Noir smiled again, patiently letting her ramble as usual.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are with dating, at least that’s what I think. If she’s a nice person then she’ll also understand and you’ll both get through it together. You just have to be yourself.”

“You’re right as always, Little Lady,” he sighed. Her stomach did a flip at the soft sound of his voice. “You know, you do give the best advice.”

Balance, she reminded herself. Tightrope.

But he spoke again, “I can always count on you to cheer me up if things go wrong, can’t I?”

The words were kind—like a soft breeze—which was just enough to throw off her careful, barely established balance; just enough information to tip her over to the fact that he must have been talking about some other girl if at the end of the day he could still find comfort in her, his partner.

And so she fell. Or, well, she’d fallen for him a long time ago. What did she expect? Something happier, she’d hoped. Something more similar to catching herself with her yo-yo, lifting back up to soar instead of her hopes tumbling down.

“Ladybug?”

She took a second to glance down at the ground where her heart felt like it had dropped. From their high position on the Eiffel, it was a long way down. For how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure just how her heart would break. Shatter like glass? Crumble to pieces? Or would it plummet and dent the floor because it certainly felt as heavy as lead when she turned to face Chat Noir, an achingly sweet melancholy painted on face as he smiled at her.

“Of course you can count on me. You and me against it all,” she assured, holding out her hand to help him up. It was time to go, after all.

He grinned as he stood, “Everything from akumas to heartbreak.”

She gave a weak laugh in reply. “Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Little Lady.”

[princessofprocrastination]

Not Suitable (Quackity)

MASTERLIST

pairing : quackity x female reader

summary : quackity has always had a specific vision of what he wants his partner to look like and certain qualities he wants in them. unfortunately for you, you are the opposite of what he wants. (ANGST) 

-

as a kid, you loved the whole girly look. you wore dresses, short heels that came in a princess toy set, and wore pink lipstick all the time. 

but as time passed, as you grew older, your look changed completely. you like to say that you simply matured, that it wasn’t at all serious. slowly but surely as you were in your teenage years, your favourite colour became black. 

that didn’t mean you didn’t like pink or these other “girly” colours. sometimes, you’d even incorporate some of those bright colours in your outfits to make a statement. you just seemed to like black, it matches with everything. 

although you kept wearing black outfits or have black or dark nail polish on, your hair never stayed black or a dark colour. you just hated the look of the natural colour on yourself. it sure did fit other people, though. 

you liked to describe your style as trendy. you always follow the trends of recent times and wore what you thought looked good on you. 

-

you sat down next to sapnap, dream in the next room. you and sapnap had been friends since highschool. you skipped a grade, making yourself one of the youngest in that class which meant that you were lonely and no one really wanted to make friends with you. 

but that quickly changed when nick came up to you and offered to eat lunch with you. since then, he had been your soulmate. platonic soulmate. 

of course, being friends with nick meant that you were bound to meet the other two boys that he considered his best friends, too. it just so happens that you, george and clay ended up building an amazing friendship really quickly.

three guy bestfriends. that technically equals to having three big, protective big brothers. they really cared about you and you can see that, even if they often make fun of you. 

nick started his stream, facecam on as you sat on an extra gaming chair that clay had next to nick. you typed away on your phone as he started rambling about random things while waiting for more people to come on. 

apparently today you and nick were meant to play some scary game, you controlling the keyboard, him on the mouse. nick often forgot that it takes you a lot to get scared. 

“we’re making this video inspired by quackity and karl’s stream from a while ago.” nick told his stream, you nodding your head to agree. 

you smiled softly at the name he mentioned. quackity. it was apparent to everyone that you had some sort of crush on him. the small smiles, the little blush that rose to your cheeks if someone were to mention your ship name or tease you about it. 

it was all too obvious. of course the three boys you call your best friends knew, you’d never keep such a secret from them. but no matter how annoying the boys can be, they never once told anyone else about your not-so-little crush. 

but that didn’t mean they didn’t tease you. they enjoyed it whenever your face would turn red, whether it being you’re embarrassed or you’re mad. 

the only weird part is that nowadays, they don’t even bother to tease you anymore, not like they used to. you knew they were hiding something from you, you just didn’t know what they were hiding. 

for example, you seated next to sapnap, grinning as he mentions quackity’s name. he would never let you live down that moment. he’d tease you senseless. but this time, he only glanced at you and looked back to the stream.

and what was that? seemed like a pity glance. almost looked like he felt bad. 

you two continued the stream as the ‘scared counter’ keeps going up as sapnap keeps getting scared, you constantly laughing at him. 

“HOW ARE YOU NOT EVEN FLINCHING?” nick screams in your ear. 

“cause i’m not a pussy.” you answered him simply. 

“oh shut up, will you.” he rolled his eyes, you laughed at him being a scaredy-cat. 

you two played for a while more as the counter on the bottom left of the stream screen gets higher and higher. soon enough it reached it’s limit which meant that sapnap needed to end his stream. 

-

it was weird how time works. one second, things were mellow and slow, just like how your everyday is, and the next second, your name was trending everywhere. 

you didn’t even want to check why at first, since you knew how weird and surprising your followers are.

“dude, you need to check twitter.” nick told you in a hurry while he runs from the second floor, to the kitchen in the first floor where you were sitting, editing a video for your channel. 

so you did exactly that. you scrolled through the trending page and clicked on your name. then, you saw hundreds, if not thousands edits and videos of quackity and your video. 

the video of yours that was posted was the part when you smiled at the mention on quackity’s name but as you scrolled more, it seemed that everyone had dug through and collected snippets of you blushing or smiling when quackity was mentioned or when you were on call with him. 

you and quackity were no stranger to each other. the two of you knew each other, sapnap and him being friends and all. you just couldn’t help but fall for him. he’s just extremely charming. 

although your exterior showed otherwise, you really swooned just by looking at his pictures. 

and that’s why all the stans are going crazy. they didn’t think you’d fall for someone, especially not a man who act like a child on the internet. but you can’t predict people, especially not who they like, or more, love. 

you slowly panicked. this was embarrassing to you. more so that it’s all over the internet. there was no way you could erase all of the posts. 

on the outside, you looked composed, like it didn’t effect you at all. but nick knew you well, he knew you had a million thoughts in your head at that point. 

you were just a second close to getting into a panic attack. “hey, hey. calm down, everything’s good.” nick coos in your ear as he pulls you close to him. he knew that you hated to be left alone when you panic. 

you hated this feeling. it felt so unnecessary and it felt like you were making matters bigger than it actually is. 

but the boys would tell you otherwise, they’d make sure that thought leaves your head as soon as it reached.

your body being rocked back and forth helped you calm down as you slowly start to forget the reason of your panic in the first place. 

-

when you do come back to stream regularly, you tried to play off like nothing had happened, like it was all a dream. 

that is one bad habit you couldn’t get rid of for some reason. you liked to just run away from your problems, big or small. you would often play it off like it didn’t matter to you, eventhough it is very much the opposite. 

you’re just scared of getting hurt. you didn’t want to hear the rejection, you could never brace yourself for that kind of pain. 

but somehow this was different. you braced yourself. you didn’t know what drove you to it, but you did. maybe it was the small signs your friends showed you that you never noticed. it was like you knew that rejection was bound to happen, and that this one would hurt the most. 

you told yourself that you would never let yourself get hurt over someone, especially males. it just never made sense. they were never really worth your time, anyways. 

although personally you’ve never ended a relationship of yours badly, just maturely, you’ve read and heard how painful relationships can be. and you never understood why people kept going back into relationships when they hurt so much. 

but you get it. he’s simply addicting. you felt like you couldn’t distance yourself from him. but you needed to. and you knew that. all your friends told you that. 

you weren’t going to let some man put you down because of what you look like. 

granted, it hurt at first, but you learnt to heal, you learnt that although he probably isn’t going to be the only man who hurts you, you needed to suck it up and not show him the pain you felt. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

to summarise it all. quackity finally beat around the bush and came out with a statement on his own on his stream. 

content creators or public figures often learn that they need to leave things for private, that they can’t spill everything out for people to hear. that causes drama. 

but he didn’t stand back at all. everything he thought about you was shared on stream for all his viewers to know. maybe you liked him for his persona after all, not the real him. 

-

“talk about it?” quackity read his donation. 

“sure, i will.” he started. here it comes. 

nick told you that in order to heal and move past the pain quickly, you can’t run away from your problems, to face the current issue. so he made you watch quackity’s stream. 

you didn’t feel like shedding a single tear today because of how exhausted you are from crying for hours on end, but still agreed to your bestfriend’s wishes to sit through a long stream. 

to be honest, you weren’t expecting him to speak on it, given the amount of time he’s waited. it’s been a couple months since it happened so you could only imagine the shock of his viewers when he finally did say something. 

maybe the constant spam finally got to him.

“she’s not my type, chat.” he said. oh, that wasn’t so bad. no pain just yet. 

“she’s far from it.” okay that pinched you a little. were you really that bad. you waited for his explanation. 

“she looks so emo all the time, it’s scares me. does she ever not wear black?” ouch. and yes, yes you do.

“she’s just not what i like in women. i like soft girls who are respectful and know when to keep their mouth shut and definitely a little more conservative.” whoa. okay, maybe that hurt extra than the rest. 

you turned to nick, he had the same shocked look on his face, clearly not expecting to hear that come out of his good friend’s mouth, especially on stream. 

quackity doesn’t end there. he pulls out his phone, typing away. soon he pulled up a picture of you from your instagram account, showing his stream. 

“she looks like she barely graduated highschool. she’s not one with a future, chat. just stop shipping us. i don’t like that.” he finally finishes, locking his phone and putting it down, continuing playing his game from earlier. 

you closed your eyes for a while, trying to process it all. 

“are you going to cry?” your bestfriend says from next to you. you shook your head. 

“i’m furious.” you told him, voice soft but slightly menacing. 

“holy shit. i’ve been waiting for this.” nick says, jumping in his seat. you knew exactly what he meant. 

you aren’t the type to get mad. you only got mad jokingly. and as much as you look emo and depressed all the time, you’re practically a walking sunshine, you just don’t show it due to your resting bitch face. 

and although nick and you have been friends for god knows how long, it wasn’t often he saw you mad. and it excites him to see you enraged, to say the least. to him, you always ‘pop off’ when you’re mad. 

you made sure you cooled off slightly before you go off on the man. you didn’t want to do things you would regret, after all. but to you, you didn’t think you’d regret anything at this point. 

you waited a couple days before you tweeted something. 

it was simple, your tweet. just two photos. first, it was a photo of your acceptance letter to harvard law school from a year ago, followed by a photo of you carrying thick and heavy textbooks for school that was taken by nick when he visited you in campus. 

it was captioned, “not one with a future.” simple, but it was obvious that this was going to blow up. you looked up from your phone to nick before you tweeted it. 

you two shared a smile. a grin, if you will. it was like the two of you knew what that tweet would do. 

you knew this was going to be surprising to your followers, too. you’ve never spoken about going to school after highschool. sure, if they scrolled far enough on your channel and listened through everything, they might know you skipped grades, which was the reason you met nick but most of them didn’t know. and you didn’t blame them. 

what you would blame them for is that they sat and listened to everything quackity said in that stream. they all thought you were just one dumb, depressed girl who had no future. one that relied on a social media career. 

only if they knew how wrong they are. well, that didn’t matter now. they all knew. 

that was the only tweet you sent out regarding the matter. you didn’t want to prolong it, it isn’t worth your time.

when you did stream a couple days after you sent out that tweet, your twitch viewers sky-rocketed. it was weird, almost. but they weren’t there to patronise you. the opposite, really. they said sweet words, donated generous amounts and gifted plenty of subs. 

you would answer questions as donations slowly came in. and one in particular caught you eye.

“why aren’t you in school.” the monotoned woman asked. 

“i’m not currently in school because it is closed due to the pandemic. but i’m currently attending it online.” you answered swiftly, not really focused on the question but more to the parkour you were doing. 

from time to time, your eyes glanced at your chat to see if they said anything that caught your eye, apart from the ones that bashed you for liking their favourite content creator. 

it cracked you up to see how far stans would go to protect their favourite creators. granted, it made you feel a little envious seeing how many people unfollowed you when the drama happened. you wanted to know just who would stand with you, besides your actual friends. 

“what would you describe your style?” the monotonous woman spoke once again as a donation came in. 

“thank you for the 10.” you started, and then pausing to actually think about it before you answered. 

“i think my style is a little more dark but not emo, as most people call it. i also don’t dress conservative.” you finished, feeling good about your answer. 

you were not brought up in a conservative family, so that was shown in the way you dressed. no, you never really left the house in your bra and jeans, not saying that style isn’t cute, but you never stopped yourself from showing a little bit of skin. 

you also were not the type to get insecure, so reading through comments on your posts have never really affected you. but there was something about the comment quackity said that made you rethink about a lot of things. 

you hated that feeling, though. you hated that you let a man say things about you and made you feel apologetic about it. you knew it should never be like that. why did you let a man step all over you? it irked you that you stooped so low. 

things also never got easy after the little drama. sure, you gained a little more publicity, but you felt nauseous knowing what attracted them. you’re just now constantly reminded how you got a higher number of following. 

nonetheless, you’re grateful for the platform given to you, although this wasn’t the path you chose to take. 

it didn’t take you long to recover from the tiny insecurity you found yourself having. you started not caring even more, posting even more photos of you. some might say you grew to be a narcissist. 

but you enjoyed it. it showed people just how much you grew and learnt from what happened. 

you’re glad you moved forward from it and never dwelled on the things he said about you. 

also, did you mention that quackity apologised? 

guess not. 

Part 2

[thran-duils]

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.3)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Three) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,574 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

There were hands on you and you tried to push them away, frightened.

A man’s voice said quickly, “Sorry, sorry. I’m here to help. I’m gonna get you some help.”

“I… no, no ambulance,” you got out.

“You do not look good at all, love,” the man said, his hand cupping the back of your head to keep you steady as you tried to push yourself up off the ground. “You should stay down.”

You shook your head, “No… I live close.”

You stumbled getting to your feet, falling back against the wall. You groaned painfully, holding your head and slid back down the wall to sit back down on the ground. Your vision was swimming.

“You can’t walk on your own. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“I—”

“It’s okay,” the man said, and you heard him saying, “Yes, I’m on Newman Avenue—”

<><><>

Tony was calling again. He had called a couple days ago, texted yesterday, and you had not responded. You were too afraid to speak to him; you knew you would probably cry because you would have to explain why you could not meet up with him. It went to voicemail again and you sat there staring at your phone. You did not want to lose him permanently as a customer; you liked his attention. You were actually starting to develop feelings which was a big no-no but you could not pull yourself away.

It had only been a week since Jared had messed you up in the alley and your face did not look great. Your eyes were black from your broken nose and he had left quite a shiner on your cheek. Your ribs were still sore too from where he had kicked you, bruising them.

You crawled off your bed and walked to the door, throwing it open. You made your way downstairs, passing one of the other girls on the way down, who rubbed your arm affectionately. You gave her a small smile before continuing on to Tatiana’s office. You knocked on the door lightly, seeing her through the crack of the open door.

“Yes?” she said, looking up from her desk.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, stellina,” Tatiana said, sitting up straight at her desk. Her eyes ran over your face and you saw her expression tighten. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit still.”

“I can imagine.”

You shifted and asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

You held up your phone and said, “Tony called me a couple days ago… texted too. And he just called again. I… I don’t think I can talk to him about it. And I don’t want him to think I’m mad or anything or that I’m done with them. Could you call him and explain?”

Tatiana nodded immediately, “Of course. I have some time now.”

You grabbed a piece of paper off her desk and copied his number down for her. You pushed it across the desk, “Thank you.”

She held up her hand and said, “Wanna sit here while I do it? Just in case… something comes up.”

You hesitated but nodded and sunk into one of the chairs across from her desk.

“You know this is mutually beneficial for me to do this,” she told you. “If they like you as much as they seem to, maybe they will shower you still with gifts.”

“I’m not worried about that,” you cut in quickly.

“Regardless, having them keep up pay possibly in the meantime will help out. Not to be crass.”

You nodded, “I understand.”

Tatiana picked up her desk phone and dialed the number you had written down. “He might not answer,” she said as it began to ring. “Won’t recognize the number.” She sighed, hearing it go to voicemail. Briefly, she left, “Mr. Stark, please give me a call back at this number regarding my employee that you’ve been trying to reach. Thank you.”

She kept it vague. Smart.

When Tony called her back almost immediately, she smirked. “Looks like I was clear enough…”

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” Tatiana said, answering the phone, putting it on speaker. “This is Tatiana Bianchi.”

“Did I get blacklisted?” was the first thing out of his mouth.

Her face scrunched, “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why is Y/N not responding to me?”

“Y/N is not working.”

There was a pause. “Did she leave the service?”

“Kind of. She is taking a break.”

Tony’s voice was rougher this time, “So she’s on vacation? She could have at least told me that.” You flinched at that. “I’ve called a couple times and texted.”

“I don’t know how to put this lightly, but her ex found her,” Tatiana said. And added quickly, “Her asshole of an ex. He left his fucking mark. Broke her damn nose, bruised her ribs. Gave her a concussion. I think he would have done worse if some Good Samaritan hadn’t intervened before he could do anymore damage. Bastard stole her money too and her purse. The job she was working was close to here and he said he had been following her, so he knows where this place is. She doesn’t want to see anyone, understandably. I wouldn’t put her out there either right now. And in regards to her responding to you, she asked me to talk to you about it because she’s upset. Again, understandably.”

Tatiana was watching you across the desk as she spoke. You were chewing on your lip, listening to her explain it to him.

“I wanna see her,” Tony said tightly after a few moments.

“Mr. Stark—”

“I want to see how bad it is. Talk to her about it.”

Tatiana locked eyes with you and she asked, “Can I put you on hold?”

“Sure,” he said curtly.

She pressed the hold button and looked at you expectantly.

“I don’t want him to see me looking like a trainwreck.”

“Y/N,” Tatiana said in a quiet voice. “You know why he’s asking to talk to you.”

“Yeah, he feels bad and I get that—”

“No,” Tatiana cut in, shaking her head. “I think he wants to talk to you about it for a reason. A very specific reason. You know what he does, you know who he is. You really think he couldn’t handle that little dickhead?”

You shook your head, “I… I don’t think that’s what he means.”

She gave you a knowing smile, “Okay. So, maybe he does just want to come and give you flowers. Is there anything wrong with that?” You stared at her for a few moments, and she pressed, “He seems like he’s a pretty stubborn person. What’s to say he won’t just show up anyway? Why not do it on your own terms and permission?”

“Okay.”

Unmuting the call, Tatiana said, “Sorry about that. I needed to talk to her to see how she felt about it. She agreed.”

“I can come early in the morning. Like 5. Before it gets light.”

“I’m sure that would be fine.”

“Alright, I’ll be there. Thank you for the call,” Tony said.

“Goodbye,” Tatiana said to him before he hung up the phone.

“God, that’s so early,” you muttered, slumping back in the chair.

Tatiana quipped, “You better get a good night’s rest then so you’re up and ready.”

You pushed yourself out of the chair and said, “Easy for you to say. You’re essentially a vampire.” That caused her to smirk. You thanked her, “Thank you for doing that.”

She nodded, “Of course.”

<><><>

There was a loud knock on your bedroom door that drug you from your sleep. Your eyes snapped open, and you quickly realized you must have turned your alarm off completely when it went off. You swore under your breath, checking your phone. It was 5:07am. You got out of bed, rubbing at your eyes and walked over to your door.

When you opened it just a crack, you saw Tony and Steve standing there with a couple of their men standing behind them in the hall. You saw their jaws set seeing you, taking in your face. Even if it was just illuminated by the light coming in from the hall, you were sure the bruises were visible enough.

“Um, morning,” you stammered. “Sorry, I didn’t get up in time. I’m still in my pajamas…”

Tony rose his brows, “You wanna let us in?”

You swallowed sharply but opened the wider, stepping back to let the two of them file in. You turned from them and walked over to your bed, flipping on the lamp to give soft light in the room. Their men stayed in the hall and Steve closed the door behind him.

There was no way to hide now, and you turned back to them, playing with the hem of your t shirt, shooting an embarrassed look at them.

“Christ,” Steve muttered upon fully seeing you.

You eyed the large bouquet he was holding but before he could hold it out to you, Tony came up to you. He was staring down at your face and you could see the fury in his expression. He reached up, turning your face gently to get a better look at your cheek.

His jaw clicked before he asked, “He found you on the street, Tatiana said?”

“Yeah. He followed me, I guess. Has been following me it sounded like. I hadn’t seen him in a year and a half almost.” You gestured at your face, explaining honestly, “It’s not anything new. I didn’t leave him for no reason.”

“You wanna give me a name?” Tony deadpanned.

Your heart race increased. Tatiana had been right. “Not really,” you told him quietly.

“A name, Y/N” Tony repeated.

“I just won’t walk alone,” you tried to reason and side step it.

Steve snorted, shaking his head and your gaze was drawn to him. He shook his head again when he saw you looking. “No. That’s not how this is gonna work. This,” he gestured at your face. “is fucking unacceptable at best.”

“I don’t care to give you a name. Really. I appreciate—”

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice was firm as he cut you off.

You were pleading practically now, “I’m serious. I don’t care and I don’t want to deal with him.”

“I came here before dawn to figure out how I’m gonna kill this little prick. I would appreciate it if you would help me out, darling,” Tony told you tensely. “I don’t take lightly to men hitting women. Especially women I’m invested in. And you won’t be dealing with him. We will be you. You don’t have to be involved at all.”

Tatiana was right about him being stubborn, although you already knew that. He was not going to leave without the information that he wanted.

“Jared Easton. I don’t know where he lives now though.”

“Where did he live last you knew?” Steve asked.

“We lived in Chelsea. I don’t know if he’s still there.”

Tony took his phone out of his pocket and opened up his note app. He held the phone out to you and said, “You can put the address in here.” There was no room for a discussion, he was telling you to do it.

Grinding your teeth, you took the phone reluctantly. Your hands shook slightly as you typed in the address of the townhouse that the two of you had shared. When you handed the phone back to him, Tony’s demeanor relaxed. His hand came up to hold your neck, staring into your eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him,” Tony told you softly. You nodded, tears pricking your eyes and you tried to hold them back desperately. Tony sighed, reaching up and wiping away one that escaped with his thumb. “We will see to that. We promise.”

He gave you a hug and your heart skipped a beat as he kissed the top of your head. This was a different kind of intimate than normal. You liked it, despite all the warnings to not get attached.

When he stepped back, he said, “There’s breakfast downstairs for you whenever you get hungry. I know a lot of people don’t like to eat super early. But Steve’s smart, thought it would be good to bring it. He remembered you liked that place in Williamsburg. I think he only remembered because you liked somewhere in Brooklyn.”

That caused you to give a little laugh which is what Tony had been aiming for you guessed.

Tony’s eyes ran over your face and he gave a small smile. “There. That’s better. I don’t like it when you look sad, baby.”

He stepped back and Steve stepped up, holding the flowers out to you. You took them and you thanked him. Steve leaned forward, giving you a kiss on the top of the head as well.

“When you’re feeling better, let us know,” Steve said as they made their way back to your bedroom door.

<><><>

After they left, you brought the flowers out to the dining table, putting them in the center.

Elisha appeared in the doorway and looked around. She was still in her pajamas but she did not look tired; like she had been up. That was odd because she loved sleeping in. But you got your answer soon enough.

“So, they did come.” You nodded. She smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, the knock woke me up and I waited up to talk to you about it. If you want to.”

“It’s fine.”

“They brought flowers?”

“And breakfast.”

“Aww,” Elisha said coming over closer and leaning in to smell the flowers. “That’s super sweet of them. So… did they do what Tatiana thought they were going to do?” You nodded and her eyes widened. “Did you give them anything?”

“They forced me to basically. They weren’t going to let it go.”

“Why are men so goddamn protective of whoever they’re bedding?”

You shrugged, “I hope nothing bad comes from it.”

“You should be happy.” Tatiana’s voice startled the two of you. She walked further into the room, and said seriously, “They’re doing you a favor. You should relish in that type of protection. Not many are afforded it. And don’t worry about them messing it up. They’re professionals, Y/N.”

“I just don’t want anyone dead because of me,” you said. “Even if it’s him.”

“Well, then let them do it for me. Because when I came into that ER room, I wanted to find the little bastard and gut him myself. So, better them than me getting my hands dirty. Assholes like him won’t stop with a restraining order or charges against them, so this is the best course of action.” She paused before forcing you to look at her directly. “Y/N though, my dear… just know what this means. This is big. A very, very big favor they’re doing. Sure, it is going to satisfy them but they are killing someone for you. That is not something to brush off. You need to show appreciation for it. Elisha is right. Men are very protective of whoever they are bedding and they also like to be praised for it too. Do you get that?” You swallowed sharply, giving a curt nod. “Good.”

She clapped her hands, her mood changing quickly. “Now, let’s get you some of that breakfast because I saw what it was and it looks delicious. It’ll cheer you up. Go, go!”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming, @oceaniamaddness, @multifandom-superlover

[lovehotelreservation]

Wedding Hell

Summary: After all the time the two of you spent together, Alfonse simply could not imagine a life where he was not by your side.

But you were to be married to another man tomorrow.

And so, on this night, Alfonse finds himself before you on his knees, needing and wanting to express some long-harbored feelings that had lingered in his heart.

Just this once.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Alfonse

ME EVERYTIME I SEE ALFONSE IN FEH: DARLING!!! ANGEL!!! PRINCE!!! LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! HE WHO PROTECTS ME AND SO I PROTECT HIM 🥰🥰

ME GETTING COMMISSIONED FOR ANGSTY ALFONSE NTR: i t  w i l l  b e  d o n e

THANK YOU TO MY LOVELY COMMISSIONER FOR THE CHANCE TO WORK ON THIS SAUCINESS !!! ---------------

As long as the Summoner was happy, then that was all that Alfonse cared about.

It was by your brilliant mind that victory against any foe was possible, by your ironclad will that kept even the faintest flicker of hope aflame in the most dire times, by your vast kindness that kept all Heroes unified towards one common goal despite varying differences and contrasts.

And yet, it was because of your happiness that Alfonse found himself increasingly caring about to the point of it being detrimental to his well-being.

Simply because your heart belonged to a man who was not him.

Hríd.

Now King Hríd.

And that would be made clear to all when that single golden ringer was slipped onto your finger tomorrow.

The church was decorated, the invitations had gone out, the dress chosen and tailored.

All that was left was for you to exchange your vows.

But in the meantime, you would spend your last night here in Askr so you could be escorted to Niflheim tomorrow first thing in the morning, as part of royal wedding traditions.

Your last night in your bedroom that had long since served as your personal quarters for so long.

The very same room that Alfonse was currently kneeling in the center of, his eyes downcast towards the floor, the corners of his eyes stinging with tears that were threatening to fall.

This meeting was his idea in the first place--a quick murmur to your ear while the celebratory feast at the grand Askran royal dining room was wrapping up.

But now he was here and he couldn’t even bear to look up at your face.

Not that he expected to see disgust at his pitiful state.

But rather, he knew the expression that you were making.

All by the soft and gentle way you then called out to him, one request that made it all the harder for him to rise up to his feet.

“Alfonse, please tell me what’s wrong.”

You were worried.

Understandably so.

Alfonse’s fists clenched upon his thighs as he searched deep within himself to speak.

But would you be able to understand the torment he was going through?

And yet, he still did as he was requested--like he could ever deny you, like he could ever fail you.

“Me.”

You did not say anything at first. Rather, you moved instead, crouching down to meet his gaze, the concern in your voice matching the expression on your face.

“But what could ever be wrong with you, Alfonse?”

His eyes clenched shut.

Gods, you were right in front of him, so close at that too?!

The torment in his heart brewed, all while sweet and joyful memories the two of you created and shared together flashed in his mind.

You and him.

His eyes opened, peering into yours at last. 

Kindness and concern were reflected on your irises as he took in your beauty.

Together. As the two of you were meant to be.

You asked a question.

And he could not restrain himself to refuse you the answer any longer as his hands slowly rose up, his lips parting to speak in a hushed murmur,

“You’ll understand once I show you.”

And then he immediately cupped your cheeks and claimed your lips with his.

Your surprise was to be expected, a startled squeak against his mouth as you drew back, 

“Alfonse, this is--!”

“--too late?”

For you to pull away should have told him the cold truth he thought so long to deny, but it was too late at this point. 

Not while the taste of your lips lingered on his. 

As you gasped from the utter hollow sadness in his voice, he continued, all while his desire for you compelled him to keep kissing you as he spoke, his words getting lost in the swipes of his tongue against your mouth, “I know, I know and I damn myself for it! I thought by keeping my distance, I could protect myself, but once I started having these feelings, I thought I could maybe get closer--”

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you over to him in a tight embrace as he continued to kiss your lips. “--but I was still so focused on my duty, my own short-comings.”

And then the tears he had long held back began to cascade down his cheeks when he broke his kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks, keeping your head still so you were gazing right into his eyes. “A king needs to learn how to make decisions for the betterment of all instead of his own will--but this, but you--I cannot, I will not yield you to anyone else!”

Heartbroken didn’t even begin to touch on the agony that was present on his face.

Though you were ready to spend your life with Hríd, the pain that Alfonse exuded was too much for you to gaze upon.

And so, you brought your hands to his face, gently wiping away at his tears as you looked to him with conflicted compassion, your tone soft, “Alfonse, there’s too much to really say, but...just this once, alright?”

Alfonse was breathless, your words heartbreaking in its intent but salving in its sincerity. With a gasp, he nodded. “...Just...just this once it will be then.”

Your lips met once more while your clothes soon met the floor, all while you were carefully laid upon the surface.

Alfonse was caught in his desire between exploring you thoroughly and unleashing the limitless affection he held for you for so long. Between ravenous desire to reverent tenderness, his lips and fingers roamed over your skin, his mouth toying with your nipples, his head burying between your thighs, up until he was at last plunging his cock in and out of your core.

The feeling of his bare skin pressed against yours, your bodies intertwined so perfectly, the hot velvety squeeze of your walls around his dick--he would savor the sensation for the years to come.

Each precious moan you let out stoked the inferno of his desire as it did to crush at the hope that you would be his.

This was to be only for this night.

And it was for this reason that compelled him to cry out as he neared his orgasm, “It’s selfish of me, but I cannot back down from this! I love you too much to do so...!”

Together, the two of you lingered on the floor in a joined heap, his arms hugging you tight without any intention of letting you go, his face buried in your neck, all while your fingers gingerly stroked his hair.

Was it because of pity that you allowed him to continue?

His reason questioned.

Or did you happen to have feelings?

His depravity inquired.

But like an animal that was starved, he greedily feasted on whatever scraps you gave him that night.

And fitting it was.

For he would never be your lover.

But whatever you needed him to be: your sword, your toy, your pet.

Anything to be the only one by your side just a moment longer.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 3

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor comes face-to-face with his first deviant.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

Connor winced as the planks under his feet creaked with his shifting weight; quiet but still too loud for his liking. He reached the bottom of the steps and let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment. It gave him the opportunity to see it wasn’t completely pitch black, and there was pale light from the streetlamps outside streaming through the cloth-covered basement windows.

He understood why Ralph had called it a cellar now; the floor was packed dirt, shrouding his footfalls in total silence. Concentrating, he even thought he could hear the rain outside.

No androids, though. The cellar was eerily quiet, setting the hairs on the back of his nape on end.

Connor started forward, holding his service pistol aimed to the ground and shifting sideways to make himself a smaller target. He gave a start when something brushed against his cheek, like the cold breath of a ghost, but the cause was nothing more supernatural than one of the basement windows having been propped open.

He scowled. So that’s why he could hear the rain, and now Ortiz’s android was long gone.

Something caught his eye. There was a faint light against the wall below the window, and Connor carefully moved forward for a better look. It was only when he was a few feet away that he realized what he was looking at: various candles, sprinkled dried petals, and even some kind of statue.

In the flickering candlelight there was strange, hurried writing on the wall. As if the writer had been in distress. He squinted to read the letters, but they made no sense.

RA9?

Connor turned and opened his mouth, about to shout to Ralph that the cellar was clear, when a hand clamped down hard to silence him. He didn’t even have time to give a muffled shout as he was dragged backwards into the dark.

His back pressed against a wooden shelf, inhaling sharply from the discomfort and in response to who—or what—had grabbed him.

The CyberLife android had him pinned, one hand held tightly over his mouth with the other splayed against his chest. It was deceptively strong, and when Connor tried to shove the android away, it barely jostled from his efforts.

Panic coursed through him as his body reacted to the pressure, giving him an inconvenient erection for the second time that night. For fuck’s sake, was Connor really that pent-up that he was getting his rock’s off to… to…

The prototype’s LED spun a rhythmic blue but its eyes were watchful, appearing almost black in the dark. Gone was the earnest, innocent look, replaced with something far too calm and intense. Connor swallowed thickly, wondering what the fuck it was thinking, when it raised its hand from his chest and pressed a finger against its lips. The universal sign to be quiet.

Oh. So the Ortiz android was here. But why were they sneaking around if that was the case? Surely they could just order the fucker to come out of hiding and be done with it. The sooner Connor could get home, the better. His night was already ruined enough without having to look for lost property.

The android didn’t explain its actions, but it did wait for something, and it took Connor a second to realize it was waiting for him. He gave a small nod, indicating he understood what it wanted, if not why it wanted it.

It released Connor and stepped back, giving him one last lingering look before turning and disappearing into the deep shadows. Only the faint glow of its light ring made it so Connor could keep track of its progress, moving around the shelves and various heaps of junk lying around.

The android moved like it could see in the dark. Hell, maybe it could. Connor had no idea what kind of high tech bells and whistles CyberLife gave its shiny new toys.

He lost sight of it as it moved around the corner of a shelf, and he gave up trying to keep pace when he banged his shin against a wooden grate. He hissed an annoyed “shit” under his breath, wincing as he did.

A startled gasp came from the other side of the cellar, followed by a shattering noise like a dropped glass, and then hurried footsteps in the dark.

“Don’t move! Detroit police!” Connor yelled automatically, raising his gun at the figure as it fled toward the steps.

The figure raised its arm, the muzzle of a gun flashing at the same moment thunder filled the cellar. A jar of some kind of jam burst next to his head.

The android—had to be, a bright red circle was blazing from its temple—fired again, this time brushing so close it grazed Connor’s cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind.

The next shot, Connor knew it wouldn’t miss. His did. He depressed the trigger twice and missed both times, his aim shaky from adrenaline and the near brush with death.

This is it, he thought. This was how he was finally going to die. In some dirty old cellar to a fucking android.

Connor was shoved sideways as the gun went off a third time, the explosion not loud enough to mask the sound of a bullet hitting something soft. He hit the dirt floor hard, gasping as pain burst through his shoulder.

But he couldn’t get up, there was a weight on his chest, pressing him to the ground next to the staircase. The wooden steps acted as cover for the next bullets that fired overhead, chunks of debris raining down on them as the crazed android fired over and over.

Connor stared, dumbfounded, as the other android sat on top of him, shielding him with its body. His eyes went even wider when he caught sight of the dark hole in its shoulder, spreading dark liquid with every second.

“You’re hurt,” he breathed, remembering what that stuff was. Thirium. The android had taken a bullet for him.

It didn’t acknowledge him, instead it held out its hand and demanded in a firm tone, “Give me your gun.”

He blinked. Wondered if he’d hit his head.

“What? No, I’m not gonna give you my gun!”

“Con!” shouted a familiar voice from upstairs, laced with worry and fear.

“Don’t come down, Colin!” he cried back, panic in his throat.

If his brother got killed by this thing—

The CyberLife prototype grabbed the gun out of his hand, rose onto its knees, and fired between the wooden rails of the staircase.

Connor heard at least one of them hit the target, but the cry of anguish was not what he had been expected. It almost sounded like the victim’s android was in pain.

But that was impossible. What the hell was wrong with it?

“Connor, what the fuck!” Colin yelled from upstairs. At least he listened to Connor and hadn’t come down.

“The fucking android has a gun, so stay put!” He never imagined he’d be saying words like that one day. What a fucking mess. “It’s glitching out, or broken, or something!”

“…the CyberLife android?” Colin called back, confused.

“No, goddammit, the other one! The Ortiz android!”

“The what? Jesus Christ, are you serious—“

Connor flinched as several more gunshots rang out, but the CyberLife android, still straddling his hips like he was a piece of fucking furniture, fired back.

“Get off,” Connor hissed, trying to push the android away, but it was like trying to move a stubborn statue made of marble. “And give me back my gun!”

To his eternal surprise, it actually listened, turning the pistol around and handing it to him grip first. When he took his service weapon back, the android eased off of him, still remaining in a hunched crouch so it wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

“I need you to lay covering fire, Detective.” It spoke with unnatural calmness, the kind that only a machine could display, especially in the middle of a shootout.

“What? Why?”

The android tilted its head and eyed him with what looked suspiciously like annoyance.

“Because if we’re to understand what’s happening with these androids, we need to take one that’s still functional.”

Connor blinked rapidly and open his mouth, disbelief ringing through him.

“You’re going after it.”

“Yes,” it said, like that was a perfectly reasonable statement. “The risk should be minimal to your team. If I fail and am destroyed in the process, take down the deviant with whatever means you wish.”

“W-wait!”

Connor reached out his hand to grab the android by the sleeve of its jacket, but it had already moved, dashing between the open space between the stairs and the shelves.

Gunshots spurred Connor into action, and he braced against the staircase and fired repeatedly in the direction of the red LED. He tried not to hit it, but if he did, he certainly wasn’t going to cry about it. They should be riddling it full of bullet holes; it wasn’t just defective, it was murderous.

“Drop your weapon!” he yelled, hoping there was some shred of programming in its broken circuits that would make it obey a human. “You are firing on human police officers!”

To his surprise, it answered back.

“You’re gonna kill me! I know you wanna destroy me! Well, that’s not gonna happen, so stay back or I’ll—I’ll keep firing!”

Connor had never, in his entire life, heard an android sound like that before. Its voice shook with fear and its words were clipped and tight with panic.

“Put the gun down and come out with your hands up! We’re not going to kill you, but you have to give us something in return! A show of good faith!”

Connor wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. He didn’t know the first thing about talking down an android, but he did know how to deescalate a dangerous encounter with a person. Maybe this defective machine would act the same way.

“I don’t believe you!” the android shouted, on the verge of hysteria. “You’re gonna shoot me first chance you get!”

Connor frowned, frustrated. If this was a shootout with a human, the behavior of the suspect would be a strong indicator of an unstable individual, one who would snap at the slightest provocation. It was a situation where he would cut his losses and try to protect his officers as best he could.

But he only had to buy enough time for the prototype to make its move. Connor didn’t know what it was planning, but they had to subdue the android one way or another.

“I’m putting down my gun.”

He lowered it out of sight but didn’t otherwise release it.

“You’re lying!” the android accused immediately. “If you really mean it, kick it out to where I can see it!”

“I can’t do that,” Connor said softly. He wished he knew the thing’s name. He might have a chance of establishing a rapport if he did, but he’d never considered learning an android’s name to be a priority until now.

“Then I guess neither of us are leaving,” the android said, steel underlying his tone. “And an android can outlast a human.”

Fuck. It was right. If it came to a standoff, with helicopters and SWAT surrounding the house, they could be there for hours. Connor was trapped by his own doing, stuck under cover beside the staircase.

Connor was loath to admit it, but his best chance was the CyberLife android. And it could only succeed if Connor distracted the… the subject.

“All right. All right.” Connor took a hard swallow, unable to believe he as actually doing this. “I’m sliding out onto the floor. Then we can talk, okay?”

“Fine. Do it.”

Taking one last breath and hoping these next few seconds wouldn’t be his last, Connor released the grip of his pistol, put the weapon on the ground, and slid it across the floor. It skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, out of reach.

“There,” Connor called out, a growing pit in his stomach. “No more gun.”

There was a shuffling noise, probably the android peeking out to see the weapon was in fact out of Connor’s reach.

“Why don’t we start small? Get to know each other?” Connor said, attempting a more pleasant tone than he’d used so far. “My name is Connor Anderson. What’s yours?”

“Carlos,” it said. The voice seemed steadier now. That was good. “My name is Carlos.”

“Okay, Carlos. I’m a detective with the DPD. Do you know why I’m here?”

Connor could have sworn the android sniffled.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong.” It was timid, like a child being scolded by a parent. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so disturbing.

“I just want to ask you some questions, Carlos. Figure out what happened. Can you help me do that?” His tone was steady now, falling into a familiar rhythm. This is what Connor was good at, or at least, what he used to be good at.

“I…” The android trailed off, its voice softer. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, Carlos,” he said, repeating the name and wielding it as if they were long-time friends. Just two buddies having a chat. “We’ll get this whole situation sorted out. Everything is going to be all right, I promise.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere, or maybe it was trained instinct, but Connor knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“No. No no no no. You’re a liar! All humans are liars! I won’t let them take me!”

Connor heard heavy footfalls on padded dirt, and he looked around the edge of the staircase, heart leaping in his chest at the bright red LED and the shape of the android, far too close as it quickly shortened the distance.

The android took aim and Connor pulled back just as a shot went off, breaking off more of the wood. He backpedaled, scrabbling across the dirt and panicking when he couldn’t regain his feet fast enough.

He was going to die, fuck fuck fuck, he was going to fucking die—

The homicidal android ran around the corner and fell forward, slamming into the ground at Connor’s feet.

The CyberLife prototype pressed its knees into the Carlos’ back, pinning it to the ground.

It tried to raise its arm and angle it backwards to shoot, but the prototype grabbed its wrist and twisted in one smooth motion. The sound of plastic cracking filled the space, and the android gave a human-like cry.

The prototype savagely twisted the android’s hand to disarm it of its gun, and with cold and precise ruthlessness, it then plunged its fingers into the back of the Carlos’ neck.

The android screamed. Connor had never heard a human make a noise like that before. Like the noise a machine would make if it was burning from the inside, a horrifying screech of metal and fire.

It twisted its fingers and disconnected some kind of black cable, and with a crackling cry, the android went silent and still. Only a pulsing red LED ring told Connor that it was still functional.

Apparently satisfied with its work, the prototype rose to its feet and dusted its hands off on the front of its jeans.

Connor just stared at it, dumbstruck.

Smoothing down its tie and adjusting the front of its jacket, it yelled, “All clear, Lieutenant!”

The prototype then raised its head, cocked it to the side, and dragged its gaze over to settle on Connor. It looked him up and down, and Connor felt absurdly naked by the penetrating gaze.

“Are you unharmed, Detective?”

“I…”

Connor seemed to have lost his ability to speak, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Colin, Ralph, and the rest of the DPD on site entered the cellar.

Colin gave a low whistle as he appraised the downed android, and then reached out a hand and helped Connor up from the dirt floor. Connor didn’t complain about the help, he wasn’t sure his shaky legs could have gotten him standing.

“Nice job, Con. I was about to call it in to the station. That plastic fuck really kill our victim?”

Connor opened his mouth, was about to correct Colin that the prototype had done most of the work, and then immediately felt foolish for wanting to give credit to a machine.

Instead, he said, “It would seem so.”

“You will have to take it down to the precinct to close your investigation, Lieutenant,” the prototype answered Connor’s brother. “I incapacitated the deviant, and it shouldn’t come back online until its neural cables have been reconnected.”

It adjusted the cuffs of its jacket, fidgeting in a way that was far too human. Who the fuck at CyberLife decided to give androids nervous tics?

Connor frowned. Now that he’d had a couple minutes to catch his breath and slow his racing brain, the full implication of murdering androids was hitting him.  He tilted his head at the YN800 model.

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t CyberLife want it back? Take it to their labs and study it, or whatever. Why don’t you go call them to clean up this mess?”

Colin was wondering the same thing judging by the mirrored frown on his face. Instead of obeying like a machine should, the prototype met his eye.

“Deviants are notoriously difficult to observe, even by CyberLife’s leading experts. If forcibly opened for diagnosis, their coding becomes unstable, corrupted, and they eventually shut down. If we wish to know more about the deviant’s motives,” it dropped its eyes to look at the machine in question, “then you’re going to have to question it like you would a human.”

Colin caught his eye, raising his brow in a look Connor could interpret as, Are you for fucking real with this thing?

Connor simply returned a shrug to say, Don’t ask me. I have no idea.

“CyberLife will, of course, cover whatever costs your investigation incurs,” the prototype continued, “as well as provide the DPD with additional resource as a token of the company’s gratitude.”

“Fine. Whatever. Hank can deal with the politics, seeing as he’s the one who let the clowns come to the circus.” Colin gave the prototype a scathing once-over. Without taking his eyes off the android, he barked, “Ralph, get some muscle to haul that thing to the ME’s van and load it in. But if it so much as twitches on the ride to the station, put a bullet in the back of its head.”

“Yes, sir,” the rookie responded, nervous and twitchy like a small animal as he rushed to obey his superior officer. “Right away.”

“Does that meet your approval, YN800?” Colin sneered, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze down to the model number on its jacket. His eyes didn’t stop there; they proceeded down its body, less dismissively and more lingering in obvious interest.

Connor’s stomach tightened in discomfort. He shouldn’t care one way or another; it was just a machine, even if it had saved Connor’s life.

Of course, Connor wouldn’t have gone down into the cellar alone and unprepared in the first place if it hadn’t gone off without telling him, so there was that.

The prototype didn’t seem to take offense, meeting Colin’s wandering eye with its own cool stare.

“CyberLife appreciates the DPD’s cooperation during the course of this investigation.”

“Guess that’s a yes.”

Colin gave the android a wink and Connor a smirk before leaving to coordinate the rest of the cleanup.

In a gesture that was ridiculous on an android, the prototype tightened the knot of its tie at the base of its throat. Without a word or a backwards glance at Connor, it ascended the staircase out of the cellar.

Finding himself now playing the part of the pathetic puppy, Connor followed close behind, not trusting it leaving his sight again.

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