#tw: heavy manipulation

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

[2]: No Use

You're very helpful. ...Maybe too helpful

SO MUCH FUCKING ANGST WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

You were very special. Lucky too. Well, lucky before others discovered your secret.

You had a shield that would protect you from Twisteds. An invisible dome, a barrier that would keep the monsters out. You could walk around freely without even having to worry about Twisteds like Shelly, Sprout, and Pebble. Not even them. Not even Dandy.

Of course this was extremely helpful, and as long as your friends stayed inside the dome, they’d be fine too. But…they wanted it constantly. Pushed you to always have it on. And you were growing weaker by the day because of it.

Each floor, your senses would worsen. Before long, you would have constant headaches that made you sluggish, your eyes would droop and your sight would blur. Your energy was always low, and you were never cheerful and excitable like before. You constantly struggled to even get up.

But did they help? No.

You don’t even think they noticed…did they really not care about you that much, to not even see the most obvious signs you were suffering?

They could just take care of machines and then run to you when Twisteds found and chased them…but they didn’t. They were selfish. Gardenview was just a mess of hypocrites. They didn’t respect the lessons they taught kids to keep.

The emotions were overwhelming you more and more, day by day, floor by floor, each time you entered the elevator and exited out.

You only ever saw glimmers of concern out of Dandy as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His smile would tense, and his eyebrows would droop just the slightest bit at seeing you, leaning against the wall of the elevator while sitting on the ground. You looked horrible. So why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he say anything?

Did he hate you too? Did they all hate you? Yeah. They did, for sure. This was the only thing you were of any use for, right? Right? RIGHT? RIGHT? YOU WERE USELESS. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU. THEY HATE YOU.

Until it all became too much.

The feelings you had bottled up, your needs that had been thrown in the shadows where no one would see them, it pushed you down. Your steps slowed, becoming quieter and less consistent, shaky. Until there were no footsteps at all. Only the quiet thump when you hit the floor. Only the gasps of panic, not for you and your safety, but because now they were in danger.

Yeah.

You were right.

They didn’t care.

After all, you were of no use to them any more.

[typicalopposite]

Heartache

Chapter Two (Read Chapter One HERE)

Pairing: BuckTommy - JonahTommy(past)

Rated: M

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abusive relationship ; manipulation ; emotional trauma ; dom/sub undertone ; forced heart conditions ; attempted MCD (no actual MCD) ; this one gets very dark

One. 

There is one chair in the room. Everything starts there.

Two.

There are two trash cans. One for trash… one for the bandages, and gloves, and medicine bottles, and syringes.

Three. 

There are three medications placed on the bedside table: Sertraline, for his anxiety, Tylenol for his headache afterwards, and propofol. 

Four. 

There are four people on Tommy's phone to contact if it ever goes wrong… His father, although he likely won’t answer. His Nonna, for a copy of his advanced directive, and life insurance policies. His captain, to tell him the news. Howie, because other than Jonah… he is the closest thing Tommy has to a friend.

Five. 

There are five things Tommy thinks about during their role plays… They keep him tethered to reality as his body literally slips free from it. His mom swinging with him on their porch swing. His last day in the army. His first day back in the air. His neighbors cat that hops balconies and sits with him while he recuperates afterwards. His life before he met Jonah… 

Calm, peaceful… healthy… lonely. Who would have thought someone would miss being lonely. 

Sometimes Jonah makes him feel lonely even when he’s right there with him. Sometimes Jonah gets distant and cruel. Pokes sharp painful fingers into the fragile exterior that is meant to be there for protection, but Tommy’s is weak and flawed and easily penetrable. 

Jonah knows every insecurity, every self doubt, every regret and mistake and failure. He can take Tommy on his best days and play him like a fiddle until he’s reduced to a sniffling squabbling mess and then he draws him in close and kisses away the tears; tells him he cares about him and most importantly he wants him… even though no one else ever will. So Tommy should be thankful. Tommy should be willing to do anything to repay such a selfless act of generosity. 

Absolutely anything.

And so, for two years, Tommy did anything… and everything… Jonah asked of him. He never complained. No matter how scared he felt everytime Jonah came home with that look in his eye… knowing he once again had that scratch that he needed to itch… that need he needed to fill— he needed Tommy to fill. For two years Tommy allowed himself to fill it. To be Jonah’s assistant, of sorts; his plaything, of sorts; his… experiment… of sorts. 

Two years of letting Jonah play God.

Until it all— almost— went wrong. 

“N- No more…” Tommy had said, once his heart stopped pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest. He’d wanted to call an ambulance… or at least go in to get checked out. Jonah convinced him not to. 

“You want to lose your job? A heart attack? At thirty six? They’ll clip your wings so quickly…” Jonah glared at him, like he dared him to try to push back with logic— like the fact it took him shocking Tommy four times to get his heart beating again. Jonah eventually lets out an over dramatic sigh. “I mean if you’re that worried…” he said, putting on a pitiful pout. “If you think I know that little… and didn’t do a good job here… then fine. Here…” Tommy was already prepared to take it all back when his cell phone was slung directly at his face; he had no time to stop it or move before it smacked him right in the mouth  “Call them.”

Tommy lifts a hand to his face, feels the sting of what he knows is a cut on his trembling bottom lip. “I- I won’t call…”

“No. Call them, Tommy. They can take better care of you… right? Right?!” 

“N- No.” 

“But you’re scared?” He crossed the room back to their bed, leaned down so he was right in Tommy’s face; Tommy could see his jaw clench, his nose flare… He is nearly half Tommy’s size. It would be so easy… so easy… to fight him off. Instead Tommy cowers as he shakes his head. “You think I’m not good at my job?” Another shake of his head. “You think I can’t save you?” 

“I know you can…” Tommy cried— it made him sick how he cried… “You are amazing, and s- so skilled… you always take the best care of me… You- You’re my hero, Jonah…” The words— the lies— flow so easily because he’s trying to diffuse Jonah’s anger before it bubbles up too high. “It’s me, baby… I- I’m too weak…” and it’s true wasn’t it… he was so weak. So pathetic. “I just don't think I— m- my heart… can handle it anymore. I’m so sorry…” 

He reached out and blindly grabbed Jonah's hand, keeping their eyes locked together as he brought it to his lips. Jonah moved the hand to his cheek, running his thumb roughly over the cut on Tommy’s lip. “I forgive you…” he said and kissed Tommy. Pushing him back down on the bed and climbing on top of him. Tommy went without a fight. 

A month passed and Tommy waited, anxiously expecting each time he saw Jonah to be faced with that look again… that itch… that need… but it never came. Tommy thought maybe he was really free of their little game. 

Then the dispatch fire happened. 

Tommy sat on their couch and watched the news coverage as the fire raged on, the firefighters on scene working effortlessly to put it out. They announced Captain Bobby Nash was still inside. He mindlessly rubbed a hand over his chest as he stared at the screen and waited for each update. Finally they said Bobby was safe. Tommy sighed in relief. The reporter gave praise to the 118– Tommy couldn’t help the proud smile for his old team as the camera panned over to them standing united as they exited the building— and the 133… 

And Tommy couldn’t help the sinking feeling of knowing Jonah was on such an intense call. 

He spotted him on the TV, standing next to one of the victims, smiling down at her as they talked, and he dreaded the thought of Jonah coming home the next morning to tell him all about it. He turned the TV off, pulled out his phone and texted Howie, asked him to send updates on Bobby, and praised them for their work at the fire. He didn’t call, nor did he text Jonah. He just went to bed. 

The next morning he woke up to a return text from Howie. Bobby was going to be fine, so was his step daughter. Again Tommy sighed in relief. Then he read the rest of the text and his heart began to race: we lost one though. One of the dispatchers went into cardiac arrest on the ambulance ride in. Firefighter Greenway did his best but he couldn’t save her. She was DOA. 

Tommy ignored the other text in his phone from Jonah saying he was almost home. He ignored the key in the lock turning  over… and the door pushing open. He ignored the initial call of his name as Jonah stepped inside. He already knew what was coming next.  

Except it didn’t. 

Jonah was a little stoic as he crossed the apartment to their room, pulling Tommy into his arms and kissing him. He asked if he heard about the fire, and Tommy lied and said he hadn’t. He said he wasn’t feeling too good and went to bed early; slept in late. Jonah actually seemed concerned. He said he would order them some breakfast, and they could just spend the rest of the morning in bed. 

What was Tommy going to do, not take such an extremely rare offer?

He held Jonah after they ate; pulled him up against his chest, let him listen to the beat of his heart like he knew Jonah liked to do, and tried to push asking about the fire to the very last second. But after a few random dramatized sighs from his boyfriend, Tommy finally asked. “Is everything okay?” 

There was a long pause. “I lost her,” Jonah finally said. Tommy felt like he’d been dunked in ice water, he shifted his body so Jonah’s head was no longer on his chest— so he could see him better (so he couldn’t hear his heart pick up speed). 

“O- Oh… b- baby I’m so sorry.” 

Jonah shook his head, brows pulled tightly together. “I just— it doesn’t make sense… I can’t believe I couldn’t save her…” 

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Tommy said.

Jonah jerked his head side to side. “No. No, I should have saved her. It should have been fine.” He all but leaps out of the bed, storming out of the room. Tommy startled at the slam of their bedroom door. He thought, maybe he should just let him cool off… alone. A glass shattered in the kitchen, and he thought, instead, that maybe he should attempt to calm him down. 

He grabbed the broom and dustpan out of the hall closet first, and went straight to cleaning up the glass as Jonah paced the kitchen. He only just got all the shards up when he heard the contents on the counter table behind him get shoved off. It crashed to the floor, more glass breaking— the glass cake tray his Nonna gave him, with the entirety of a cake he’d bought himself the day before and hadn’t yet tried… he desperately tried to not react to the loss of either— another mess for Tommy to clean up; he went straight to it. 

“I guess I really am just a piss poor paramedic,” Jonah said bitterly, his voice rising from a growl to a scream. “Can’t save anyone. Why am I even doing this fucking job?!” 

Maybe it was because Tommy did want anything else broken… Maybe it was because he didn’t want their neighbors to hear the screaming and call the cops… Maybe it was because he was so conditioned to please… 

He dropped the broom. 

Clutched his chest.

And took in a sharp breath. 

“J- Jonah…” Tommy said, looking up at him. “P- Please… Help…” It took less than a second for Jonah to catch on. Then he was kneeling at Tommy’s side, lifting Tommy’s face to look at him. There’s a glint in his eye, a flicker of something dark… and Tommy should be scared but instead he leans into the touch. In that moment Jonah’s full attention, devotion, love even (maybe), was on Tommy; in that moment it was really Tommy helping Jonah… because he just loved him so much— too much. “I need you… I’m scared.” 

Oh, was he scared…

Jonah fed off of it. It was like a switch flipped over and he went full character: assuring Tommy he was in the best hands, helping him to his feet, leading him to their room… Jonah gently pushed him down to sit on the chair. Tommy put himself into autopilot while Jonah got him ready. 

He checked Tommy’s vitals. “BP is good… heart rate is accelerating… you need to relax, Tommy…” 

Tommy slowly nodded. And begins taking deep breaths. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

“There you go… That’s better…” Jonah smiled at him, and leaned down to kiss Tommy’s forehead. It should be comforting; it’s anything but comforting. “Okay go lie down… I’ll get everything set up.”

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

Jonah pulled on his sterile gloves— Tommy only knew because he had to pop them to his wrist every time… he couldn’t actually watch him because of what he knew came next. Jonah went into his little medical bag and pulled out the Tylenol… and the propofol. He sat them on the table beside where Tommy kept his anxiety medication. Then he grabbed one of the syringes— slowly opening the sealed packaging and Tommy focused on any other sound of the paper peeling apart in the room to try to drown it out— then he drew up the propofol.

He tied the rubber band around Tommy’s bicep, waiting until his veins popped out nicely. “Big pinch,” he said and gripped Tommy’s wrist as he brought the needle to the vein. 

“Wait…” Tommy gasped, trying to calm his breathing— trying to blink back against the rush of tears. “C- Can you hold my hand?” He asked. 

Jonah looked at him and a flash of disappointment crossed his face before he, too, broke character. “Now Tommy… that would be a little too unprofessional. Don’t you think?”

Tommy swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat and nodded. “Y- Yeah. You’re right. S- Sorry…” He looked back to the ceiling fan spinning above him, and refocused on his breathing. The needle pressed into the vein, the medicine burned as it entered his body. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five cc of propofol. Four minutes to take effect. Three seconds to boot up the defibrillator. Two paddles pressed to his chest. One shock.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

He felt it as it happened. It made him feel sick knowing Jonah could see it as it happened, too. Tommy could feel his eyes, wide and maniacal, locked on him as he waited for Tommy’s breathing to slow and eventually stop. Tommy felt himself dying— felt how this was killing him. Not just in the moment— as it literally killed him— but in general. 

He had flown so far from the person he had aspired to become when he finally came out and embraced who he was. This was not where things were supposed to end up. He hated that version of himself almost as much as the old. He wished he’d never met Jonah… never fallen in love with him… never become so dependent on him…

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five things he always wanted to do: go skydiving, go deep sea fishing, go mountain climbing, go on a cross country road trip, take a walk down the aisle. 

Four places he always wanted to travel: Italy (for Nonna), Paris (for Romance), New York (for Broadway), Alaska (for the Northern Lights), an altar (for love). 

Three words he always wanted to hear: I love you— not just I love what you can do for me. 

Two souls who are meant to be together— but it was never the two together in that room. 

One more time… for Jonah. 

Anything for Jonah. 

His body surged up into an arch from the shock. Tommy collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, his heart pounding as it attempted to re-regulate itself. Jonah stared at him with this strange mix of awe and pity. “Shh…” he shushed softly, reaching out to wipe away tears as they fell down Tommy’s cheeks. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I saved you.” Tommy blinked, eyes feeling heavy. He grabbed on to Jonah’s wrist, clinging to it for some sense of comfort. “You did so well. You can rest now.” The hand on his cheek gently swiped over his eyes, closing them. 

When he woke up, Jonah was there, like always. His mood was better, like always. His eyes were soft and inviting. His lips found their way to Tommy’s… kissing him deeply— passionately… hungrily. Tommy laid there and played along knowing this was only another part of the game; thinking, still, if he tried hard enough to believe it… it was almost like they were just making love. 

*

His phone ringing woke him up. 

Recovery this time took longer than his usual couple days… He had to call in sick to work… His captain was annoyed but understanding; Tommy rarely missed work, if he did it was serious. 

The phone continued to ring, causing his headache to only get worse… and he was still an hour away from being able to take more Tylenol. He groaned and rolled over to grab it, bringing it up to his ear. “H’llo?” 

“Hey Tommy…” Daryl, Jonah’s partner at the 133, said way too loudly into his ear; Tommy had to pull the phone away and put it on speaker. “How are you feeling? JG said you were a little under the weather.” 

Tommy scoffed. “Uh, yeah… what- what’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“About that,” Daryl continued, and the strain in his voice had Tommy up and out of the bed, starting a panicked pacing of their room. “Listen I- I overheard Cap talking to Jonah… something about Wilson and Han from the 118 reporting him… o- over that dispatcher's death, I think. It sounded like they dug up some crap from his past… heavy shit. I don’t know— but the conversation got pretty heated; he left very upset. Thought I’d give you a heads up…” 

Daryl was one of the only people who knew about Tommy and Jonah. Jonah didn’t want the type of friends who came over to your house… he had too much to hide at home. Tommy was enough of a loner… so he never had anyone over either. He had Howie, but he knew Howie was a sore spot for Jonah since Hen took a while warming up to Jonah as Howie’s temporary replacement; and then he was moved off the 118 after he came back. Tommy could read a room enough to know he shouldn’t mention either of them. 

Now they are— are what… out to get him? 

He was rushing Daryl off the phone and scrolling through his contacts for Hen’s name before he even really knew what he was going to say. He didn’t even wait for a hello before he was going off. “What the hell are you digging around Jonah’s life for, Hen! What business is it of yours!”

“What the— what business is it of mine?” Hen repeated back to him, scoffed and added, “what business is any of this of yours!?”

“He’s my boyfriend, so you snooping around trying to find something on him to hurt him is my business,” Tommy blurted out. 

Hen was quiet for a long time. “He's your— he’s hurt people, Tommy,” she said, a new— softer— tone to her voice. 

“That’s a lie… he— he would never!” He promised. He said it was only ever Tommy. It was— It was their thing… “J- Jonah is a… g- good man…” 

Another long pause. “You don’t sound too sure about that,” she said. “Listen… if you’re scared— if you feel like you have to—” 

The sound of a key turning in the lock caught Tommy’s attention. “You need to let this go, Hen,” he said and ended the call. 

The front door slammed open, and Jonah stormed in.

He came straight to the bedroom and stood in the doorway, eyes locked on Tommy. His breathing was heavy and slow… shoulders rising with each inhale, and falling on the exhale. “Get my bag,” he said, flat and emotionless. 

Tommy should have fought, right then. He should have refused. He got up and walked to the closet instead, bringing the medical bag out and back over to the bed. He held it on his lap as Jonah crossed the room to him. Jonah didn't pick it up, just opened it where it sat on Tommy’s legs and began taking bottles of propofol out, IV tubing, syringes. 

“You worked with them,” he said after a while. Tommy lifted his eyes slowly up to meet Jonah’s. “With Hen… and Chimney. You still call him Howie right? He’s your friend…” 

Tommy quickly shook his head. “I- I would hardly call us—”

“Do you agree with them, Tommy?” Jonah said, and leaned down close to Tommy’s face. “Do you think I’m a horrible person, too?” 

“No!”

“Do you think I hurt those people?” 

“Of- Of course not…” 

“You know I had it under control.” 

“Ye— wait…” Tommy searched Jonah’s eyes, waiting for some explanation he knew wouldn’t come. Jonah didn’t blink. Hen was right… and maybe— maybe Tommy had thought that all along. But thinking and knowing are so vastly different in moments like these. “Jonah… you— you didn’t…” Jonah’s brow furrowed; Tommy chose his words carefully. “You didn’t m- mean to hurt them, I’m sure…” Jonah doesn’t react… “They— They were just… weak. You did your job… you would have saved them had they been stronger.” 

“Exactly. They were just—”

“M- Mistakes?”

Jonah smiled; something so maniacal and evil shouldn’t have been a comfort… but he seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders, so Tommy did as well. “Mistakes… that’s it. They were mistakes.” He began to draw up doses of the propofol. One syringe after another. “Not even my fault, really… just weak people who didn’t want— no didn’t deserve to be saved. Now I’ll just have to show them what I’m capable of… then they will see…”

“Show who?” 

“Hen and Chimney,” Jonah reiterated with a grin. “I’ll show them both just how good I am at what I do.”

“H- How…” the question rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. Jonah didn’t respond, just laid everything back in the back and walked to the closet for the defibrillator. “Jo- Jonah… w- what are you going to do…”

Jonah smiled, reached up and cupped Tommy’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed him. “I’m going to teach them a lesson, baby.” Tommy felt his eyes widen, a choked off sound escaping him as he shook his head. “It’ll be fine. They have to learn.” 

“Jonah… please… don’t,” he begged, would beg on his knees if he had to. He couldn’t let Jonah hurt anyone else. He decided to be brave just a fraction of a second too late and felt a sharp pinch in his neck just as he was about to lunge at him. 

He fell over on the bed, watching Jonah pull out his phone. “Heard you were talking about me,” he said.

Tommy barely heard Hen’s voice respond before he passed out. When he opened his eyes again the room was dark. Part of him thought maybe— just maybe— Jonah was gone. He tried to sit up and felt dizzy… 

“Easy now…” he heard Jonah’s voice cut through the darkness. “You know better than to try to move around so quickly.” 

“Mmhmm…” Tommy hummed. 

He watched the silhouette of Jonah walk around the bed, sit down beside him; he took his hand and held it like one would a stranger. “I really thought you were the one, Tommy…” he said. “I thought you understood me. I thought you cared…” 

“I- I do… care,” Tommy said, sluggishly. 

The silhouette shook his head. “No… no you don’t. I’m really sorry, baby… but I have to get going. Things to do; old friends to visit.”

“J’nah… p- please…” Tommy tried once more. He felt the familiar sting of medicine entering in his vein, only then registering the needle that had been in it. He felt Jonah’s lips press to his in a chaste, emotionless, kiss. He felt the rise of the mattress as Jonah got up and walked out. 

Four minutes. 

Jonah said it took four minutes before the flatline. He waited until he heard the front door click shut and he rolled off the bed, falling heavily to the floor. His adrenaline spiked… that was a good thing… it would keep him alert longer. He rolled over towards the bed, sticking his arm under it and feeling around until his fingers brushed over the box. A panic induced purchase really… he’s glad he made it now— he’s knows Jonah took his with him. 

Three minutes. 

He hadn’t even opened it yet. Why hadn’t he ever opened it?! His fingers trembled clumsily as he tore the box apart and freed the equipment inside— a shiny, brand new, defibrillator. It felt like some kind of sick Christmas present… He struggled against his fading consciousness to get it set up… nearly busted his head as he toppled over to plug it in… he pulled himself back up with the bedside table and that’s when he saw his phone was still there where he left it after the call to Hen. 

Two minutes.

He managed to do it in tandem; turn on the machine with one hand, call 9-1-1 with the other. “9-1-1 what’s the address of your location?” The dispatcher asked the question, then waited for Tommy’s response. Tommy peeled the first pad off, and carefully slid it under his shirt, sticking it to his left side. “Hello? 9-1-1… what is the address of your location?” 

One minute.

1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon Street Apartment G!

“I- I’m actually not sure where he’s going,” Tommy said as he put the second pad on the right side of his chest. He turned the defibrillator on, holding the phone close to his mouth; his finger lingered over the button… he didn’t have much time to waste but— “But his name is Jonah… Green- Greenway. He drives a 2021 white Nissan Altima. License plate seven-delta… hotel-li-li-lima… nine… six… sev—” 

He pressed the button and everything went dark. 

“Sir. Sir, do you hear me?” 

He had read… somewhere… that shocking your heart while still conscious felt like getting kicked in the chest by a horse. 

Tommy fluttered his eyes, tried to open them against the blindingly bright light of the— the ambulance. He was in an ambulance. 

“Alright! We got him back!” 

Tommy took a deep breath through the oxygen mask over his face. Then another. Then another. 

“That’s it, sir… in and out. Nice and slow. You’re going to be just fine… you’re safe now.”

Was he though? Was Hen? Was Howie?

He got his answer in the shape of the former— donning a matching hospital gown to his— sneaking in his room many hours later. 

He was still barely conscious… having faded in and out multiple times. The only people to enter his room since his arrival had been doctors or nurses— none paying him much attention as he incoherently asked about Jonah and if he’d been caught— that’s the price you pay being a loner, he supposed. Hen stopped in his doorway, waiting until he opened his eyes and looked at her to enter. 

“Hey…” she said with a smile, soft and friendly— neither things he deserved. “How are you feeling?” 

Tommy waited for the other shoe to drop. For rage or some snarky comment… an I told you so. It didn’t come. “Like I was kicked in the chest by a horse…” he finally replied, letting his head loll towards her. “Are you— you and Howie…” 

“We’re fine.”

“Jonah?” 

“Going to prison… for a very long time.” 

Tommy sighed, and nodded. “Good,” he said. That was good— something good to come from… all this. “How- How did you know I was here?” 

“Karen called the cops when I called to warn her Jonah was up to something…” Hen explained, sitting down on the foot of Tommy’s bed. “They told her somebody had already called in, and there were already units out looking for him. I had Athena look into it. She said the person who called was found unconscious and admitted here… I pieced the rest together and asked the hospital if they had a Thomas Kinard.” 

She reached for Tommy’s hand and he flinched, pulling it away. “I- I’m so- so sorry, Hen… I- I should’ve…”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. We are all victims here.” She reached for his hand again and took it this time. “Some… a lot longer than others, I’m sure.” 

She gave him a knowing look and he couldn't help but laugh… What else was there to do? “You have no idea…” he said tiredly.

*

Evan is quiet. 

Tommy is… on edge— although he’s doing his best to be patient. He just dumped a lot of trauma, he would not be surprised if Buck turns and runs out the door, never to look back. 

“So you— you told Hen everything?”

“Everything I just told you, yeah…” 

Evan nods. He’s still holding Tommy’s hand… that’s a good sign, Tommy hopes. “And— And Athena? You— you told her, too?”

Tommy shakes his head. “She just asked around about the anonymous caller for Hen. She never knew it was me. I did talk to the cops who found me, though. But…” he sighs… this is the part he regrets the most. “I asked to be left anonymous. I— I didn’t know Jonah was doing this to other people… there was nothing that me testifying would add to the case, unless I wanted to press charges.” He breaks away from Evan’s eyes. “And I— I didn’t…” 

“Tommy,” Evan gasps in disbelief. Here it comes, Tommy thinks. “Why- Why wouldn’t you… after— after everything he did to—” 

“I know…” Tommy interjects, hanging his head. “He hurt Howie and Hen… and so— so many other people…”

“And you!” Evan all but shouts. “Tommy he— he hurt you too… so many times… and he— he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.” 

That… was not what Tommy expected Evan to be upset about. He isn’t exactly sure how to respond to it. “He’s going to prison for life, Evan…” he says, as a start. “He didn’t get away.”

“That’s— that’s not good enough.” Evan shakes his head using his hold on Tommy’s hand to pull him into his arms. 

Tommy is held tight to Evan’s chest and he feels— he feels many things, actually. Mostly he feels safe. Which is something he’s never really felt in a relationship. Safe to be himself. Safe to be vulnerable. “I’m sorry…” he says, trying to blink back tears. He thinks he’s cried enough in just this one day for his entire lifetime, and the next. “Jonah… he— he was all I had… I just— I- I couldn’t…and I know I should have but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry…”  

“H- Hey…” Evan gently pushes him back, then gently cups his face. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be sorry… I don’t blame you for wanting to bury those memories. I’ll— I’ll talk to Athena; maybe we can fight this summons.” 

If only it could be that easy…

Even after Tommy re-explains his reasoning for not wanting to get on the stand in front of Jonah… the judge still decides she’ll allow it. “I’m so sorry,” Athena says somberly, and Evan’s hold around Tommy’s waist tightens. He presses a kiss to Tommy’s cheek. 

They meet with the DA, discuss what he should expect, and Tommy schedules a session with Frank— recurring sessions, actually. 

He knew this would come back into the light one day. He should have been prepared. He’d gotten too cozy with his life, that was his first mistake…

“Tommy there’s a call for you in Cap's office,” Lucy says, jogging up to where Tommy is under the hood of one of Harbor’s engines. 

“For me?” Tommy grabs a rag and wipes the grease off his hands, so he can run his fingers through the loose curls falling down onto his forehead. “Who is it?” 

Lucy shrugs. “He didn’t say.”

There is a sinking sense of dread Tommy can’t shake as he approaches the office, takes the phone, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One…” Tommy hates how he can hear the sinister grin in Jonah’s voice. He hates that he’s hearing Jonah’s voice at all. “You were always counting down. Sometimes you even did it out loud, did you know that?”

“How— How did you—” 

“Do you know what day the trial starts?” Jonah continues, brushing over Tommy’s question… of course. Tommy doesn’t respond; Jonah chuckles. “Save the date, baby… it’s a good one. I can’t wait to see you.” Then the line cuts off. 

“Who was that?” Lucy asks, but Tommy is too busy trying to get his phone’s calendar opened. “Tommy…” she says— repeats, maybe… She touches his arm. “You’re shaking… Are you okay?” 

He is not.

Five years ago Tommy talked himself into meeting someone he matched with on some dating app Howie teasingly suggested he try. 

Four days until he has to come face to face with that same person on the anniversary of that first date. 

Three life sentences is what Jonah is looking at if found guilty… He will be found guilty. He has to be found guilty.

Two hours before Tommy is off shift… and Jonah probably knew that. 

One almost— but not quite— forgotten nightmare Tommy has been thrown head first back into. 

~~~~~~~~~

Tagging people who seemed interested (let me know if you want to be added for the last chapter or removed 🫶) : @sunnywithachanceofbi @weewookinard @xtarmanderx @racerchix21 @sad-girl-hours23 @laundryandtaxesworld @swagmaster9k @iphyslitterator @adian-ua 🫶🫶

[yamanehaize01]

Miracle laid in Serendipity: Unveiling the Voyage of Miraculous Bearers

The Unknowing Tale between Y/n L/n & Adrien Agreste

Chapter 04: Swirl of Magnetica

Previous & Subsequent Chapters | 01 | 02 | 03 | Loading...

Third — Point of View

Perspective of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Upon arriving infront of the school, the bluenette waves her hand with a smile when she sees Alya walking towards her. “Hey girl, good morning! You ready for that, you know!” Alya lifts her two fingers, creating peace signs and gesturing it up and down. Marinette gave her a nervous chuckle as she scratched the back of her head. “I-I.. um! O-Of course! Haha-” The bluenette grins widely with an unsure expression, while her best friend gives her a pat on the shoulder. “You better be, because there he is–” Alya was about to point her finger towards the familiar blonde boy, but Marinette cut her off.

“W-What?! W-Where..!” The bluenette stuttered, looking from side to side then looking behind her, as she gasped. Seeing Adrien getting out of the car then closing the door, Marinette could already feel her face reddening and she quickly clung her hands around Alya’s arm, in case she’d fall right then and there. “O-Oh my gosh, A-Alya! H-He’s walking t-this way-! W-What do I do now..?! S-Should I-” Marinette stumbles on her words, uncertain on what to do. And she could feel her heart stop when Adrien notices them ahead, before waving towards them with a gentle smile.

Alya shakes her head with a giggle as she tries to support Marinette’s body, who’s literally about to pass out and fall to the ground if she doesn't keep her on her feet. Alya grabs the bluenette’s forearm and lifts it up, motioning her to wave back at the blonde. Marinette forms an awkward grin, trying her best not to embarrass herself infront of Adrien. “Girl, keep it cool.” Alya whispers, as the bluenette nods her head anxiously. “Marinette and Alya, good morning.” Adrien greeted, it took every ounce of Marinette's energy not to make the situation awkward — attempting to respond back.

“G-Good-.. Good mor..mor-ning! Y-You too! I-I mean- to you! Too..!” She lightly laughs, internally hoping that Adrien wouldn't mind her little slip up. She doesn't know why she couldn't get her act together! She's supposed to have a normal conversation with him, and possibly give him the keychain she designed a week prior, without stumbling herself up in the middle of it. But- it's almost impossible, she feels weak in the knees every time he faces her or just- talking to her normally! The tension isn't forgiving.

“Morning, Adrien.” Alya responded, before looking back at Marinette, it was the perfect opportunity for her friend to hand Adrien the small gift. And she knows that Marinette knows it too, she just needs a little push– just a little bit. So as Adrien was about to continue his way towards the school’s entrance — Alya smoothly guided Marinette infront of the blonde. “I think Mari wants to tell you about something.” The bluenette once again froze in her place, while Adrien looked at them – firstly confused but then it was soon replaced by curiosity, waiting for Marinette to talk.

“I-I.. t-there’s this thing that I-” The bluenette starts, her pupils gazing around, unable to make eye contact. “I.. I- made..” She continues, her face reddening even more as the minute passes by. She squeezes her eyes closed, intending to spill the words out in one go. “I made you a—!” Before Marinette could finish her sentence, a loud and annoying voice interrupted her. “Adrikins~!” At that point, both Marinette and Alya's faces dropped in an instant. Not be able to do nothing but watch Chloe hug Adrien and give him a kiss on each side of his face.

A cheerful voice suddenly emerges as Rose and Juleka quickly make their way towards Marinette and Alya, sparing a small glance at the commotion going on with Chloe. “Have you given it to him ye–!” The bluenette immediately put her hand up against Rose’s mouth, muffling her words. While the clueless girl looks at her innocently, Marinette chuckles hesitantly – looking towards Chloe and Adrien to see if they heard Rose. And considering that their overly confident classmate is still yapping on and on about her morning to Adrien, she draws a sigh of relief and removes her hand off of Rose’s mouth.

“Sigh.. unfortunately no, Chloe got in the way.” Marinette replied, as Rose and Juleka glanced back at the two. “Really? Oh no..” Rose whispers, but then Chloe unexpectedly turns around to face them, causing them to pretend to be preoccupied with each other. They could already feel the look Chloe was sending their way, the awkwardness was in the air as Nino swept in to call out for his friend. “Yo, dude! How’s it going? Mornin’!” Nino greets, raising his hand as both of them high-five one another before proceeding to head straight to school.

With Marinette peaking a slight glance back at Adrien as they pass by her, knowing the opportunity is way beyond reach right now. A snap of a finger made the bluenette startled as she heard Chloe laugh. “Seriously, Dupain-cheng! What an embarrassment, right- Sabrina.” Chloe smirks, fanning herself with her hand as Marinette fights the urge to grit her teeth. “Knock it off, Chloe.” Alya retorts, sending her a glare to which Chloe scoffs. “Here comes the savior of the day, really- you're just proving my point. Can't even stand up for yourself, Marinette Dupain-cheng.” Rose gasps, putting both of her hands against her mouth.

“Hey, that's not tru–” Rose was about to say but the other blonde easily brushed her off. “Ugh, I can't with these peasants, let's go Sabrina.” Chloe flips her ponytail back in an arrogant way, sparing them a nasty look. “Y-Yes, Chloe.” Sabrina nods before trailing after Chloe, holding her bag and other textbooks. Both Rose and Juleka was shocked at how the situation turned out, mostly Rose as her eyes followed to where Chloe headed up inside the school. “She’s so rude! How can she say that?” Rose says with a pouty look, turning back at Marinette, who has her head hanging a bit low.

“Mari, don't listen to her. She just wants to get under your skin, and you can't let that happen.” Alya reassures, as Marinette stares back at Alya. “Y-Yeah.. Alya’s right..” Juleka joins in, trying to keep the bluenette to the bright side. Marinette huffs out a breath, calming her nerves down before shaking her head and replacing the frown on her lips into a smile. “Mhm, we know Chloe.. so full of herself.” Marinette sighs, as the three girls let out a smile. Although suddenly, another voice calls out for the group.

“Ayee, girls!” Alix shouts out, waving both of her hands up as she runs towards them. “Hi, Alix!” Said Rose, waving back with a bright smile. “What’s up? Did Mr Agrestimó Francé arrived yet?” Alix questions, adding a tint of accent, earning a chuckle from the four of them. “S-Stop with the nickname..!” Marinette giggles, placing a finger against the side of her face. Alix however, dramatically puts a hand over her chest, looking back at Marinette with a fake-offended expression. “Oh, you're covering up for the model boy now? Hm.. if we place two and two together–” Alix teased, as the bluenette’s face went flustered. “I-I.. I w-wasn’t! I-I’m not even–” Marinette stuttered terribly, as she put both of her hands against her flushed face. “Ooo-! What if, what if!” Rose cheered, lifting a finger up.

“Alright, I think Mari is about to burst into flames if we keep going.” Alya chimes in, as she raises one of her eyebrows with a playful grin. “Fine, I'll stop– for now!” Alix chuckles, crossing both of her arms before asking again – “So, is Adrien late? Or- you know.” Alix hinted, acting a small cough. And as she looked at the four of them, their faces weren't saying any positive notes. “It didn't go exactly as planned..” Alya answered, pinching the bridge of her nose, thinking back at the mayor’s daughter. “Let's just say someone was blocking the road.” Alya clued, receiving a mixed look from Alix.

“Damn, if that's how it's gonna be then you could go and make a quick shot and throw it in Adrien's bag with your name on top, there! Problem solved..!” Alix shrugged her shoulders.

“Pftt– you did not!” Marinette lightly slaps Alix on the shoulder, the mood lightening up entirely. “Now that I think about it! That is a good idea, isn't it?” Rose claps her hands with a big smile, passersby were sending some looks their way- noticeably confused. “Where is Mylene and Y/n, by the way? Are they already inside?” Alix questions, earning a baffled look from Rose. “We haven't seen them, maybe they're just a bit late.” Marinette replied, as both Alix and Rose nodded. “We should probably get settled in and wait for them in class.” Alya says, turning her phone on and looking at the time.

“Sounds good, I need to get these rollerblades secured, gonna use it later!” Alix says, patting the two rollerblades that she holds against the side of her waist.

“Oohh, are we going somewhere after school..!?” Rose innocently asked, as the rest blinked in unison. With Juleka chuckling a bit, placing a hand on top of her friend’s shoulder.

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Second — Point of View.

Perspective of Y/n L/n.

Hovering your hand on the classroom’s doorknob, you tried to quietly twist it open and have a peek inside. The voices of your classmates are now becoming clearer, and it seems the teacher hasn't arrived yet. You open the door enough for you to slid into and close it behind you, most of the clatter dying down and eyes sparing you a swift glance. At that point, you only wanted to head onto your section and sit down. “Oh Y/n!” Alya waves her hand up, as you send her a smile. Lightly holding the handle of your bookbag, then taking the way in the middle.

Audible whispers coming out of Chloe and Sabrina's side of the class, not to mention the unnerving stares they're giving you. From your first day being a part of the class, you did know that Chloe is bad news. She doesn't really mercy you either – quite the opposite, you don't understand where the sudden hatred for you came from. But knowing it's Chloe, she basically hates everybody. Besides herself and a few of her ‘supposed’ friends.

“You have got to be kidding me. Little Miss airhead over here shows up, no wonder she's friends with that baker’s daughter.” Hearing that loud and clear, things like that shouldn't bother you– ignoring her will be best either way. A worry glance lifted from the first row, emerald green eyes dotting on you. Chloe wasn't even trying to hide her voice from bouncing across the room, if Adrien heard it– heck then definitely you heard it too. “How ridiculous..” Chloe quipped, brushing the fabric of her blazer, some quick glares were sent her way but she didn't pay any mind to it.

Once you made it to your desk, you sat down on your seat and leaned low– settling your bookbag down under the desk table. Then lifting your head out from below, unexpectedly bumping into a soft edge. “A-Are you okay..?” Hearing Nathaniel's voice, you turn your head a bit to face him, looking up. Noticing how he has his hand gripping against the edge of the desk, ending up with you narrowly avoiding a rather painful little accident. “I.. thanks, I'm fine.” You replied with a small smile, now fully lifting your head up from under the desk and fixing your posture. As Nathaniel retrieves his hand back next to the side of his notebook, a tinted blush forms on his face.

—

The sense of recognition among the citizens and also the prestigious higher ups of the city is beyond fluttering. Being heroes, your image as one has been spreading like wildfire since the day you started out. It was overwhelming at first, even now you are still slightly overwhelmed by the thought of many people seeing you as one of the protectors of Paris and appreciated you as one. Your heart feels very light, a warm smile visible on your lips — you haven't got time to realize that Ms Bustier was calling your name. And once you did, it was already too late to recover from.

“Y/n, please pay attention. In some cases we should respect the important topic of our national heroes. And as to why they're putting themselves on the line for the core reasoning of our safety.” The firm tone of Ms Bustier’s voice makes you want to shrink in your seat, and let the table swallow you whole. “O-Of course..! I'm sorry, Ms Bustier. I'll pay attention..” Scarcely, despite keeping track and being limitless in the field of your counterpart — you have to remember that as Y/n L/n, everything is different. And in the eyes of your classmates, family and others that barely knows you, that.. you're just- Y/n L/n. Nothing special besides the fact that you make your life more difficult than it already is.

Which isn’t that surprising either.

“Jeez, someone needs to pour cold water on that pathetic loser. And you know what, I might actually volunteer.” Chloe mused, raising her hand and giving you a sharp stare, with Sabrina lightly chuckling at the statement. Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, striking up a glare at the mayor’s daughter, as Alya seems to be doing the same. “Chloe, enough. It's not nice to speak badly of others, so please. Be kind.” Ms Bustier scolded with a sigh leaving her lips, Chloe only rolled her eyes before speaking with a dried tone. “Hmph, whatever.” The blonde has her chin up and arms crossed, layering with an attitude.

You lower your gaze on your desk, you could feel the humiliation fawning over you. It's not a good feeling to have, the trickling sensation of your stomach twisting and being tightened in a way that it shouldn't be. Not.. not a good feeling. Trying to brush away any lingering thoughts, you set your pupils back at the projector screen on the board. “It's wonderful how much our heroes did in order to keep Paris protected from evil, does anyone want to share their experiences in the midst of an akuma attack?” Ms Bustier smiles, scanning around her students to see if someone will raise their hands. The first one quickly raises her hand, seemingly intrigued.

“Yes, Alya.” Ms Bustier motions her hand towards the direction of the brunette, as the girl stood up. “It's totally amazing! Having to meet the heroes face to face, like really! Watch the vlogs I posted on my Sekkiblog, it's getting tons of views!” Alya squealed excitedly, waving the screen of her phone up. Ms Bustier let out a small chuckle, as the others had their attention towards Alya. Some actually pulling out their phones to visit the page and check. “This is sick, dude!” Nino says, turning his phone horizontally to watch the video.

Adrien feels a slight tug on the inside pocket of his white jacket, looking left and right quickly to make sure his classmates are distracted – he lifts the side of his jacket open, just enough not to draw any suspicion. He was greeted by the view of his Kwami, with his tiny arms crossed. “What plagg?” Adrien whispers, while the Kwami shakes his head and points to his mouth. “How long is this class, there's none of my camembert left–!” Adrien quickly shuts his jacket, nervously looking left and right again before opening his jacket once more. “What was that for..!” Plagg finally whispers with a frown.

“Shh- I thought someone might've heard you, wait.. class is almost over.” A groan escapes the small feline’s throat, clearly not happy about waiting, but he has no choice but to accept it. Adrien let go of his jacket, looking back at the projector screen upfront. His eyes dragged onto the familiar figure of red and black, a determined smile colored on your lips. Cameras are really everywhere, huh? He sometimes wonders how those people capture pretty much a clear angle in the middle of an akuma attack. He has to give them credit, it's not that easy to do. Mostly.

The bell ringing spread across the school, indicating that classes are over. “Okay, students. That's the bell, we will continue on this topic another time.” Ms Bustier nods before undoing the equipment used, putting it back to its case. Kim offered to help, carefully taking the projector from the teacher’s desk. The rest of the students left the room, chatting along the way. “Y/n, Y/n!” Rose calls happily, as she gives you a hug right as you walk out of the door. Adjusting yourself a bit so you weren't blocking the entrance, returning the hug before both of you pull away with Rose putting her hands on top of your shoulders.

“Oh wait! Let's go, Marinette and Alya are waiting for us!” Rose grabs your hand, as the other holds onto Juleka’s hand as well. Dragging both of you with her down the hall, you had to keep a firm grip of your bookbag as it almost slipped off of your fingers from the impact. Trying your best to keep up, you look around, not expecting to make a split second eye contact with those verdant eyes. His mouth slightly opened, intending to call out for you but the opportunity was quick to pass by, leaving him sighing internally.

—

“What are you thinking, kid? You're quiet.” The small feline flew up, facing his holder with a half eaten camembert in his tiny hands. Adrien exhaled out a breath, putting his stuff inside his locker and closing it after. “Nothing, Plagg.. I feel like I need to apologize to.. someone. She's my classmate.” Plagg hummed as he took another bite of his camembert, savoring the flavor then staring back at his owner. “Why? You did something wrong, did you?” Adrien let out a small cough, looking surprised at his Kwami. “What?! No, I didn't! It's about something else.” The blonde quickly defended himself, although he went silent for a moment, making sure to listen if anyone was approaching to go to the lockers.

“Then go apologize for whatever it was that happened. She's not waiting for you.” Plagg says, his tone coating with disinterest, licking his paw. Adrien blinked in slight disbelief before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thanks a lot, Plagg. You’re helping.” The blonde spoke, walking over to the bench he left his fencing helmet to. “I know I am.” The feline Kwami snickered as he followed behind, grinning at the sarcasm his holder threw. 

“Make up your mind, if you feel like you need to apologize to the girl, go for it. And wait– make it clear too! Who's truly at fault, was it you?” Plagg crossed his tiny arms, the Kwami didn't particularly remember the blonde done something wrong to others, or said anything bad. Eh- he will never know, maybe he's taking a nap at that time. How many times has he slept after being satiated by cheese? He lost count basically, his ears could've missed the whole thing, and looking at how he has no idea about what his bearer is talking about. Yeah, he definitely did.

“No, it wasn't me.. sigh, it's one of my closest friends, Chloe. I heard her say some awful things towards Y/n.. I hope she's okay.” He knows that his childhood friend could get a bit too much at times, still- that doesn't justify the way she treated others. “Why should you be the one apologizing? From what I'm getting here, it's your ‘childhood friend’s fault.” The feline Kwami replied, trying to make sense of where Adrien’s getting at. “You don't understand, Plagg. I can try and explain to–” His tiny companion interjects with a quick lift of his paw.

“All I can say is, kid. You're not getting anywhere if you keep having to explain your friend’s actions, and make them see reason. It should be the other way around, is how I see it.” The blonde paused, averting his gaze. Plagg does have a point, but.. how will he be able to do that? It shouldn't be hard, it's.. his childhood friend, he could talk to her about it. He can't just stay ignorant, when he doesn't support her actions at all. “You're right, Plagg..” Adrien muttered, not getting much of a word from the Kwami as it quickly flew over behind his shoulder to hide. The voice of one of his fencing partners called out for him, indicating the training lesson is about to start.

“I’ll be right over!” Adrien yelled back, grabbing his fencing gear before hurrying over the exit door of the locker room. And as the door closed behind him, the feline Kwami quietly made his way towards his holder’s locker. Easily going through the blockage of the front frame of the locker, settling inside the blonde’s bag. His voice soon speaking under his breath with a small yawn – “Could use another nap.”

☘︎   ☘︎   ☘︎   ☘︎   ☘︎   ☘︎   ☘︎

Wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead, you walk out of the front exit of the school, following after the students who already made their way outside. Switching your bookbag to your left hand, so you could have a proper look at the papers on your right. Although- you suddenly hear a ring coming from the pocket of your pants, making you stop for a moment to check. Grabbing your phone and turning it on, seeing your mother calling you. You pressed the green button as you placed it against your ear before letting go and moving your shoulder upwards to support the phone from falling.

“Y/n, where are you? Is your classes over?” You hear your mom’s voice over the phone, as you struggle a bit from putting the papers inside your bookbag. “Mom? Erm- yeah, I just got outside of school.” You replied, finally settling the papers and closing the strap of your bookbag, as you slip your hand back to hold your phone properly. “Alright- good! I need you to come over to the subway station and come pick up– wait.. you’ll see once you get there, now hurry up! I haven't got the time since I'm at work–!” The voice over the call cuts out, as it ends.

“What– mom..!” You drew the phone back to look over the screen, who even are you picking up from the train station? Do you even have time– oh! Maybe not-..! You quickly run down the stairs, looking left and right as you ponder for a second on where the train station might be. Before hurriedly making a turn and making sure not to accidentally bump into anyone on the way. “Ugh.. What's up with that weirdo, hold that tight, Sabrina. For a second I thought she's about to steal my expensive purse!” The blonde girl irked, loudly chewing a gum as she crossed her arms.

“Oh please, Chloe. No one wants that.” Alya puts up a smile, holding her phone and scrolling down. As Marinette brings up her notebook to cover her lips. Chloe scoffed, looking over the two with a judging glare. “What did you say–” The blonde blinked twice, seeing both of them turning around and walking away without much of a second glance. She puffs out an irritated groan, while Sabrina tries to tap her best friend on the shoulder to gain her attention – although resulting in a flinch. “Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous..!”

—

Took almost your whole breath, but you finally made it down the flight of stairs and into the train station. Gripping your bookbag against your chest, as you walk closer to the halting train. Just good enough distance to be certain that you won't get pushed off when passengers start getting out. You tilt your head a bit to try and find who your mother's talking about through the train’s window.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached our destination. Please ensure you have all of your belongings with you before exiting the train.” The announcer said over the speaker, as the people inside started preparing to leave and some people outside were also preparing to get on the train afterwards. Then, the doors begin to slide open – as the people walk out with their belongings in hand, a few weren't paying that much attention and on their phones and headsets. You move slightly to not get in the way, tiptoeing a bit and lifting your head up to see if anyone looks familiar.

Inching yourself to the side, you almost got knocked off – and thankfully you turn your shoulder just in time to avoid a small accident. Suddenly, you heard a voice call out your name, shifting your head to the direction. Your eyes widened slightly, as you mumbled – “Mrs Ikaro..?” The woman forms a warm smile, sending you a small wave from a few distance. You can't believe it, isn't she–! “N/n, N/n..!” You didn't get time to react before you saw a familiar young boy happily running towards you with his arms spread out. Earning a small yelp from you as the toddler gave you a hug, placing your hand on top of the child’s head.

“Gio..?” You muttered the boy’s name, slowly returning the hug, adding up to your surprise as you saw two more familiar faces – walking their way through the passersby. Locking eyes with those keen gray hues, his hair was a rugged mix of copper and sandy highlights, tousled in different areas, creating that messy kind of style. Feeling sort of uneasy within his gaze, you stare over the other. Seeing some similar qualities, more to their facial features, although her hair is leaning towards a lighter sense of shade. Her pupils are the same gray color as the one from their parents.

You didn't expect for your mother’s close acquaintance to come and visit– let alone meeting them again after a long time! “How have you been, sweetheart? You look quite frantic in the middle of your search.” Mrs Ikaro says with a tint of amusement, causing you to lightly scratch the side of your cheek. “I’ve been.. alright! Yep- school’s going fine..!” Mrs Ikaro hummed softly, as her older daughter lifted up a finger to gain your attention, walking up to you. “I’ve heard there's multiple attacks that have happened here in Paris! Also heroes and such–?!” She went beside you as she put a hand over your shoulder, holding her phone up.

“Uh yes, there's–” You tried to reply and view what she’s drawing your attention to, but Gio turned his head upwards — grabbing his sister's arm and leading the phone downwards to let him see. You notice from the corner of your eyes how his brother clicked his tongue in slight annoyance, piercing eyes staring back at you with a tight smile. “Gio- stop, let Y/n see.” Kija hushed, removing her younger brother’s hold on her arm. “Aww.. I didn't see the heroes!” The boy pouts, attempting to jump to be able to see the screen. “It's right there- huh? Sigh, Gio what did you click now.”

“It's the live news..!” The young toddler says with enthusiasm, you blinked twice as you catch the view of the live. Having only seconds to process what it was — when suddenly a loud crash resonated from above the station, making all of you and the few people walking by look up. “What was that?” Mrs Ikaro spoke first, looking back towards her daughter in worry. Part of you is certain that indicates danger, as you then witness people running down urgently from the stairs with a harrowed look on their faces – going over inside the train. You knitted your eyebrows together, grabbing a hold of Kija’s phone and watching the news live to gather up what's happening.

“There's an ongoing akuma attack, you need to find someplace to hide until it's taken care of–” Another violent collision could be heard from above, as Gio hugs you tightly, feeling scared. You pat the boy’s head in an attempt to reassure him, before pulling one of his arms, putting your hand under and quickly crouching down to pick him up. “An attack?! On the very second we arrived, oh no- I need to see this!” Kija clasped her hands together in excitement, as you walked over to Mrs Ikaro and brought Gio into her arms. “Have you lost your mind? It's dangerous!” Soun – the second eldest firmly warned, but Kija sent her brother a bored look.

“He's right, it is dangerous.. anything's at stake there, so it's better if you stay out of harm’s way.” You say, giving back her phone, as you pat her on the shoulder. Kija raised her eyebrows, embarrassment covering your cheeks in realization of your firm tone, on top of that– she's much older than you are..! You gulped down your nerves with a nervous smile, scratching the back of your head. “S-Stay safe, please..” You force out a small cough, turning back and going towards the stairs leading up into the city. “Y/n, oh dear-! But where are you going?” You paused as you heard Mrs Ikaro’s voice, trying to come up with a possible excuse.

“Err- haha.. I’ll try and warn everyone else! J-Just in case..!” You're not technically lying out of your tongue, but it's the only excuse you could think of at the moment. Horrified yells and continuous deafening crash shattered the remaining calmness you felt, reverberating off nearby walls and sending vibrations through the air, the ground trembled as the sound reached its peak, filling the atmosphere with a palpable sense of urgency and tension. Without thinking any further, you step up on the first line of stairs as you swiftly continue moving up, pushing yourself to the side when a few other people are going the opposite way down.

As you reach the main ground of the city, you immediately duck your head, seeing a lot of items flying around, colliding with the buildings and some- crashing upon one another. You notice the possible centerpiece of it all, spotting a figure from a far — it was hard to catch a full glimpse of what the figure looked like with all multiple objects and small constructions darting around. One thing about it did tickle your eyebrows, it has sources on what direction it goes. Ending up in a pile stuck in the wall of the houses, even the ground, it's like- that specific areas are absorbing anything close.. but, you could also be wrong, and maybe it has a different function you haven't yet realized.

“This is a bit unfair, don't you think? It’ll be more of a challenge if you didn't take my weapon away! Wait- now I know what you meant! A challenge for me? Aw, you shouldn't have!” The certain masked feline taunted with a smirk then soon a grunt left his throat when he narrowly avoided a metal object from hitting him, with a swift sidestep, he evaded another strike now coming from the villain’s floating amulet that buries ominous power. It emanated an eerie glow that cast shifting shadows down below. The amulet crackled with malevolent energy, its surface etched with cryptic runes and swirling patterns that seemed to pulse faintly with a sinister light.

The female villain is in a clad suit that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Her attire was a masterpiece of metal trail designs, fused with a single symbolic type of element, embodying a kinetic aesthetic that mirrored her stern and enigmatic persona. The fabric of her outfit appeared to be woven sleek, metallic fibers that hugged her form like a second skin, enchanting her lithe and daunting presence. Embedded within the fabric were intricate patterns of circuitry, glowing softly with a subtle luminescence that traced her silhouette.

From her shoulders, slender metallic tendrils extended like neutral pathways, pulsing with energy and serving both decorative and functional components of her magnetic ensemble. With a flick of her wrist, a glowing energy resonated from the floating amulet, shooting towards the direction of the masked feline, but his movements were a swerve of evasion and counterattack, each step deliberate and purposeful. Dodging with a cocky grin, effortlessly slipping past the onslaught of striking sense of energy from the amulet. His slit eyes never wavered, somewhat always one step ahead of the next attack.

“You little nimble cat, make it easy for the both of us, and hand me that ring of yours.” The female villain demanded in irritation, flicking her wrist once more and targeting the masked feline’s line of direction. “Sorry, but I have to deny the commitment! Proposing is quite a big deal, only Milady gets that privilege from me!” Chat noir shrugged, as the portion of energy went past the hero’s figure, but a set of magnetic infused objects started getting attracted from where the glowing energy had been shot at. Almost half of the objects damaged already in terms of getting out of its built-in place and swiftly flying towards the direction of the knowing feline.

“What a plan you have there! I see where you're getting at–!” With a rather intimidated expression plastering over his face, he attempted to get a headstart, turning around and sprinting back — thinking of some type of tool around the area that he could use to knock a few of the heavy laid objects off to a non-lethal direction. Although- to his luck, he felt a wave of energy burst and collide with his hand, surrounding a major base of the area, as the objects completely darted to his hand. More to his split second reaction when he saw a bus coming to his view from the right, stopping in time, as the weights of the metal bollard was first to press onto his hand followed by the others, making him crash into the middle side of the bus.

“She's really serious about that connection huh- this won't come off.” Chat muttered below his breath, trying to remove the magnetized fixtures and objects from his hand, mostly half his arm with the size of the bollard stuck onto it also. He looks towards the distantly figured from afar, walking painfully slow, as if cherishing the sense of victory that she caused. The masked feline gulped down, presenting a nervous laugh. “What a poor way to turn the events, after all.. victory was already under my name.” She muses, closing her eyes and flicking her wrist accordingly, the ominous energy from the amulet prepares to launch.

“Not on my watch, Magnetica!” The villainess sharply switches her gaze, barely scraping by in terms of the gray-masked heroine’s attack. The bluenette counted her steps, looping her jumping ropes around Magnetica’s arm, though- the female villain shot off the energy loaded amulet towards Multimouse. As the masked bluenette almost dodges if the opponent didn't take advantage of the heroine’s wrapped jumping rope around her arm and pulled her right when she attempted to avoid her charged source.

“Feeling cornered, quivering mouse?” Multimouse’s lips twist in a frown, as she quickly unwinds her jump rope from Magnetica’s arm. Backing off and putting a hand over the side of her waist, that's slowly forming into a glowing white outline. Her feline teammate has already been restrained, the only best course of action is to lead Magnetica somewhere out of the area before she gets tackled down due to the magnetic source that's now formed beside her waist, in remaining mind that their bug partner will show up any second now. Unless, their red-spotted partner is in need of assistance too and constrained somewhere, then- that would be a major problem.

“You say that, but I am still free from all corners, Magnetica! Is this all you’ve got? Sigh.. I was expecting much more.” Multimouse holds her chin with fluttering eyelashes, forming an upwards smile. Magnetica furrowed her eyebrows, heating up an incoming fused attack and targeting the masked bluenette once more. But Multimouse quickly dodges, a yelp escaping from her mouth as she didn't expect a mailbox to appear from the direction to her left, almost getting hit at her waist – where the magnetic outline is currently laid.

Not wasting much time to let the fixtures and other objects gather from all directions, she briefly jumped over a nearby street light and continued until she perfectly landed on top of a roof. Taunting a high wave from Magnetica, as the female villain scoffed, swiftly if not graciously making her way up towards the rooftop, just in time for Multimouse to launch a quick attack and dart off when she missed. Trying to secure the plan she made inside her head and lead Magnetica out of her troubled-made field.

—

“I told you to stay where it's safe! Why did you follow me out here–”

“Because you're being idiotic yourself! Haven't you grown out of that headspace of yours?” Soun flick the side of your forehead, causing you to rub it multiple times, before sending him a perturbed stare. Both of you are currently crouched down and hiding behind a car, trying to avoid anything that's moving around left and right, getting stamped into the pile. “I'm not being idiotic, I'm just-! Trying to warn people..” You mumbled the last sentence under your breath, however the unkempt auburn haired male somehow heard as he clicked his tongue.

“Wouldn't you argue that mostly everyone knows the danger by now, right when they see floating things crashing around?” You open your lips to speak but then pause, unable to come up with a better reason to put up. “Didn't think so, doesn't this city have heroes? Leave it up to them and don't endanger yourself, that's stupid.” You have a lot of words and reasons pretty much bottled up inside your throat, but you have no choice but to force them down and swallow. You turn your head across the street, seeing a girl around your age trying to scurry her way out of the area without getting hit. An idea popping up inside your head, as you saw a good opportunity to grasp by.

And with that, you hastily stood up from your place and put your bookbag above your head, sprinting across and in the direction of the troubled girl. “Y/n..! Where- that idiot hasn't changed at all.” Soun sighed, putting a palm over the side of his head, looking around for anything he could use to cover if he's thinking about moving from his place as well. You managed to reach the timid girl, grabbing her arm quickly and running forward into the bustling pedestrian lane. A frightened squeak falling from her mouth when a store sign dangerously flies across both of your heads, only an inch to spare you two any injuries. “That was close.. it's okay, we're fine.” You softly comforted, leading her further until you saw a nearby bookstore

A portion of the front wall of it is destroyed, but seemingly there's minimal danger around it, so you swiftly open the door and lead her inside, both of you panting. Spotting a few people peeking from behind the bookshelves, with a concerned look on their faces but also quite puzzled. You hurry over and guide the panic-stricken girl towards the empty aisle, as you put both of your hands onto her shoulders. “H-Ha.. You're safe here, I- need to go..” You remove your hands from her shoulders, wiping the sweats that drip down from your forehead, and turning back to leave the store. The girl stiffened from her place, placing her hand over her forehead as she was sort of recovering from the shock that's been happening at once.

You flinched as you covered your ears from another deafening crash, shifting your attention to the side, your eyes turning small for a second. “C-Chat noir..?” Your voice went pass like a lingering wind, the sound of it unnoticeable. The masked feline visibly trapped within the weight confines of the objects restraining him, keeping him in place. You were about to go ahead and run towards him to help– although you caught a glimmering green light from the corner of your eye. Knowing exactly that signature paw print, you didn't hesitate to move over to the traffic light, seeing how Chat’s weapon is attached to the pole a bit high.

You jump over to grab it, managing to hold onto it with one hand, your feet kicking in the air as you try to pull it down. And– you successfully did, but you ended up landing on your bottom. You stood up, drawing a breath as you remained a proper hold of Chat’s weapon in hand, with your bookbag on the other. And it might've taken you quite a while, but you reach close towards where the feline hero is trapped against. His palm opened, as if he was coming to a silent conclusion that he might need to use his cataclysm in order to free himself. Slit eyes widened upon seeing you, momentarily, at a loss of words. “Y/–.. be careful- be careful!” He stammered, nearly forgetting that he wasn't supposed to know your name– yet at least.

You nod your head with a sheepish smile, rushing over to him, being dumbfounded for a second – darting your eyes left and right, as you look down at the metal staff in your hand. “Stay still, I think this would work..” Chat blinked, curious pupils landing locks on you. “The floor is yours, I’ll keep an eye out for you.” With that, you press hold on the middle paw print of the metal staff, drawing a quick jolt from you as it extends abruptly, dropping your bookbag in the process. The blonde feline couldn’t help but chuckle at your small struggle, he offered out his other hand as your gaze fell on it. “Need some help? What's the big idea?” He questions with a hint of subtle tone in his voice, as you hand him over the metal staff, adjusting its extension – correctly so. 

“Not much, we could use that and angle it beneath this thing to loosen it enough for your hand to slip away through.” You say, tapping the metal bollard that's keeping the masked feline’s hand trapped. “You're onto something,” Chat mused, returning his weapon back in your palm, entrusting the said plan to you. Examining the narrow edges and ways for a moment, you direct the end of the metal staff underneath the tapered edge of the bollard. Pressing it securely, as you push down onto the extended weapon, a silver lining up into your eyes noticing it inches a movement.

Chat remains a watchful eye behind you, and it seems like both of you will have to be on borrowed time as he catches sight of the main key of the chaos — that Paris is currently below into. “Can you do me a quick favor–!” You turned towards the masked feline, almost flinching at his urgent tone, his grin plastered nervously. “Uhm, okay?” You say, switching your gaze back onto the task at hand, though– a half gasp escaping from your lips as Chat moves without delay – his hand wrapping around your upper arm, bringing you close to him. Your side being pressed up against his chest, confusion bubbling up in your system.

“Stay put for me.” Hearing his voice close to your ear, you froze – not knowing how to exactly react. His hand went across your back, grabbing a hold of the other end of his weapon, replicating your action as he applied further pressure. The weight seemingly being lifted off of his restrained hand, slowly moving it out of the area – dropping off of your space out mind, you push down on it as well until he's able to tug his hand free. “Finally, ack- now I feel numb!” The white half portion of outline stamped onto his palm, from the looks of it – attempting to absorb any metal energy, grasping your line of sight. And one thought comes to your mind – 

“Cov..Cover..! We need something to cover it with!” You look around, searching for any fabric or material to coat it. However – a sinister voice made you stop, your jaw tightening in place. “What do we have here? Decided to offer a helping hand? Bad choice, little one.” Magnetica ticked, swirling the energy around her finger. Not sparing her a single stare, you firmly lock your fingers with Chat, concealing the magnetic source so as to not drive any attention of nearby materials. The masked feline was left astounded, words shuffling up inside his head, looking down on your intertwined fingers.

“We can't stay around like this–!” You say, about to lead the blonde feline away from the commotion. “Then why don't you hold tight, lovely~?” Suddenly, you were taken back, both of you sharing a split second stare before you felt his arm swiftly going under your knees as his intertwined hand with yours adjusted around your back – lifting you up from the ground, squeezing your hand with his at the feeling of not likely accustomed to being picked up. “Don't worry, I won't drop you.” He gives you a wink, as you return with a bewildered gaze.

“Chat noir! Hurry and find a safe location for her to bring to. Magnetica and I still have some loose ends we need to talk about.” Multimouse drops down infront of the both of you, an assured smile coloring her lips, as she ready up her weapon. “Got it, where's Sekkibug? Haven't received anything from her.” Chat adjusted his staff from under your knee, the weapon opening up its screen as he dragged his slit pupils across, looking for any notifications – but found none. You gulped down, realization dawning on you. Multimouse hastily dodges Magnetica’s attempted fire, making the villainess groan in fury. “I'm not sure either..!” The bluenette replied, as the masked feline’s expression partially waver.

Closing his eyes for a moment, before opening it up – exhaling a breath. He turned around and pressed the middle end of his staff, taking both of you into great heights as he landed on top of a roof. Continuing to run further into the direction, you gaze up – seeing the flicker of concern in his features. Now.. you didn't know just how hard it would get having to control both your life and the life of your counterpart. How will you even tell him you're fine without hovering over too much information? Should you just.. keep it to yourself? You don't know.. it didn't take much to scoot close to your urge.

“Maybe.. Sekkibug’s just running late? She wouldn't want you to worry too much..” Chat spared you a swift glance, his lips turning into a small smile as he lightly chuckled. “..I hope so, haha.. Am I being too obvious?” He hops down from a building and into a small alleyway. “A little bit.. I can't blame you.” You say, as he sets you down, with you feeling more comfortable now that your feet are touching the concrete ground. “Of course, Milady has this on a chokehold, you know.” He snickered, putting a hand over his chest, you playfully shook your head at his statement, as you looked over to his  leather belt – suddenly getting an idea.

“Hand me your belt for a second.” Chat perk up a brow, before following up with your request, undoing his belt around his lower waist as he lends it to you. “This would be a better replacement, check it from time to time to make sure it hasn't loosened.” You say, untangling your fingers with his as you bandage his magnetic fused hand with the belt, wrapping the remaining leather tail around his arm. “Comes in handy, hm? Sharp thinking.” You blinked, as you sent him an unamused stare once you figured out his intended pun.

“I think Multimouse could use your help dealing with Magnetica, you have hero duties to do. She wouldn't want you slacking around.” You clasped your hand together behind your back with a close-eyed smile. Though you stumbled on your footing, caused by the masked feline placing his hand on top of your head and ruffling your hair. “Ehh–!” You put both of your palms onto his hand that's above your head, stopping his relentless act. “Not even a thank you? I’ll go if you say it.” Chat teased, somehow slipping by your grasp as he gave you a pinch on your cheek, a pout forming – feeling his claws lightly digging at your skin. “W-We're even actually..!” You pointed out, your words slightly out of tone and muffled from the way your cheek is lifted up than the other.

“Oh, you're not wrong, aww.. how about your name? That's it!” You let out a small sigh, there isn't anything wrong with giving him your name – it's not like you’ll regularly meet him anyway, aside from maybe your counterpart. You gave in, muttering it under your breath. “It's.. Y/n.” His cat ear twitched, a smile forming onto his lips. “Y/n, already sounding too precious? Don't doubt it, I'll see you again soon, Y/n~” He coos, not giving you much time to react as he smoothly lifts up your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. Bleaming in another upwards smirk, as he pressed the middle button of his staff – propelling him up accordingly, landing onto the roof and quickly turning his way back into the previous location. Leaving you stricken in your place, your lips opening to speak but it's already too late.

You feel gentle shuffling under your sleeves, as the red Kwami smoothes her way out of the ends – quickly twirling in the air as she floats up to face you. “He can be confusing sometimes, or is it only me?” Tikki aligned her tiny hand under her chin, as you shook your head with a small smile. “No Tikki, he is confusing.” You quirk an eyebrow, tracing a gentle caress of your finger along the side of the red Kwami’s face, evoking a soft giggle from Tikki. Nevertheless, another deafening crash has erupted, slicing through the sense of your hearing. The sound was a violent crescendo, a chorus of chaos reverberating through the urban labyrinth. Distant car alarms joined the dissonant symphony of the city’s unrest. You and Tikki look at each other with concern expressions, one thing is for sure —

“The people are counting on us,” You clutch your hand, glancing in both directions before saying — “Tikki, spots on..” The red Kwami nodded as she soon ascended towards your earring, the tone of your voice lingering firm yet to not attract unwanted attention in the process of the transformation. A mixture of glowing light pink and white firstly transferring from the top until it reaches to the limit below your lead vibrant loafer shoes. Form-fitting suit hugging your skin, you unclip your yoyo that's around your waist, refusing to let  another second pass by as you target your yoyo upwards across the balcony railing. The yoyo wraps around the spindle, prompting you towards it with a tug of your fingers onto the string. You effortlessly land on top of the railing, your foot balancing, as you scan a higher building to wrap your yoyo around for a brisk swing. And once you did, you quickly threw your yoyo towards the far off chimney, clinging it around.

You tug on the string once more, jumping off the balcony railing, the yoyo sending you into great heights, swinging by the area of the city. As when you undo your yoyo out of its current source, you proceed to target it around another and another, continuously swinging further without delay until you can now see the prime focus that triggered a harsh setting of metropolitan tumult. You narrowly avoided a soaring street sign, as you set your feet onto the slim base, pushing it downwards as you leap off of it mid air. Immediately undo your yoyo from its clinged place, retracting it back to your hand as you hastily turn back, circling it around the middle base of the street sign before it could hit the ground.

Without any second thoughts, launching it towards the main magnetic source of it all. Blue eyes landing onto your form, both of you making eye contact as you tilt your head to the side, signaling her to move aside. The bluenette grins, buying more of Magnetica’s time in those cowering seconds. “Chat, on your left!” Your voice cut through the atmosphere, undoubtedly earning the masked feline’s attention as he looked over his shoulder. The expression on your face as when he didn't follow through in time, leading to you pulling onto your strings as you land onto the ground, dunking your head — releasing your yoyo around the street sign, letting it go by.

“Milady–” A grunt slips out of the blonde feline’s mouth, when your yoyo envelopes around his abdomen, tugging him towards you — in terms of avoiding Magnetica’s attempted fused attack from making contact on your teammate’s figure. A small mistake revolving your part, as Chat almost collided with you — but the masked feline skimmed his arm across your back before you could potentially stumble backwards from the close proximity. You look up, meeting his seeping green hues, he charms you with a wry smile. “What took you so long, Cuddlebug? I’ve missed you..!” Chat whines, and you are about to open your mouth to speak although your eyes widen when he leans in with his lips pursed together.

Your voice trails off an awkward – “Aha..” as you raise your palm and press it under the masked feline’s jaw, leaning your head back as you lightly push his face away – making your indication clear. “Chat, focus! We can't afford to risk anything right now, Paris is all in shambles!” You say with a resolute tone, your eye catching another attempted strike belonging to Magnetica, targeting from behind the masked feline. Undoing your yoyo around him with seconds to spare, your hand gripping onto your partner’s arm as you dragged Chat to the side – barely on time. “If it isn't Sekkibug who has finally joined my field, you're late. It’ll be all the more satisfying when your miraculous is in my possession.” Magnetica smiles evilly, a scoff then running down her lips once Multimouse goes for an attack.

As both of you and Chat look over towards Magnetica, the blonde feline returns back to face you. Playfully letting out a laugh, making you switch your gaze back at him with a confused stare, especially the frown that's visible on your lips. “She's just jealous, Milady. Obsessed with me in fact!” Chat stated aloud, earning an even more confused glance from you. “I– don't need to know that, Chat.” You sigh, unimpressed by the masked feline’s statement. He sparks you a teasing smirk, brushing his shoulder. “Is Cuddlebug the one getting jealous, purr–haps?” The masked feline murmurs, as you firmly cross your arms at his teasing claim. 

“That's the last thing on my mind, Kit-Kat.” You hummed with a close-eyed smile, lifting up one of your hands as you clatter his bell with the tip of your finger. “It's still on your mind either way, Milady~” Chat remarked, right as you smoothly walked past him, shifting his head towards you. “Enough meowing, and begin pouncing, Chat. Leave it for later.” You wave your finger, not turning back as you let your yoyo fall from your hand — before spinning it simultaneously, with an unwavering smile, continuing to walk towards Magnetica. “Meow?” The black suited feline adds, while he leans over his extended metal staff with his chin hovering over the top, his smug grin very much visible.

Moving with precision, you quicken your steps until you were sprinting towards Magnetica, her glinted eyes counter your attack — the floating amulet in the nick of blasting a charged shot, although it was a slim chance it could’ve ended in her favor, you manage to barely tangle your yoyo around the amulet, causing Magnetica to step back to stop your attempt. And that might’ve just given you a perfect picture of where the akuma might be. A solid reason.

You wrapped your yoyo around an approaching fixture – going for Multimouse’s line of direction, remaining in a blink of an eye as you pull it down for it to meet the concrete ground instead. While the masked feline kept you covered in the course, a swift rotation of his metal staff was enough to conquer her strike. “Say, since you're acquainted with magnets,” Chat trails off with a curious yet flowy tone, turning his body to the side – carelessly dodging a detached car door, as he spun his weapon, brushing his shoulder a bit before continuing. “Do you agree that Milady and I have that magnetic pull between me and her?”

The visible deadpan faces that you, Multimouse and even Magnetica weren't hard to notice. “Are you that foolish? Don’t question me about that!” The female villain’s level of hatred and anger couldn't suffice much longer, letting her power do its work as she shot at a specific spot. Her unexpected sidestep causes you to retract back, your shoulder accidentally meeting with Chat’s chest, as he places his hand across your shoulder in a gesture to make sure you're okay. “That was a bad moment to ask,” The masked feline chuckled, however your eyes widened as a street sign was headed both your way. It was indeed a cycle of mess, as you got a small glimpse of Magnetica’s evil grin in the midst of her fighting with Multimouse. And before you could even make sense of the reason she's grinning, there’s not enough time to process it.

You moved quickly, with you spinning your yoyo to defend against the overwhelming magnet-attracted objects, while Chat did the same with his metal staff, rotating the said weapon to retaliate any close encounters. Despite that however, with the amount of strong magnetic effect around, Chat's hold on his weapon was slipping off, as it went flying in an angle upwards. “I swear, my own weapon is lacking loyalty!” You notice the mishap at the corner of your eye, fortunate enough – it was about to head past you, and then you wait for that small chance to time it right. As you were able to grab a firm hold of the metal staff, the force caused you to get pulled for a moment towards its direction but your traction against the ground kept you on foot.

The masked feline went over to you, in order to help — although, that only resulted in a mistake as you both weren't expecting one of the city fixtures to come out of nowhere, propelling you both into the air and as soon you and Chat landed onto the ground, knocking the wind out of both of you. Mixture of your grunts and huffs corresponding with the impact, as the two of you rolled over the road – Chat kept a tight hold around you, his other hand placed against the back of your head. The side of your face pressed against his chest, ending with you on top of him. A blush forms onto the blonde feline’s features, quicken beats of his heart didn't go unnoticed by your eardrum. Pretending a cough, he played it off –

“She's giving mixed signals, wouldn't you say so, Milady?” Pushing both of your hands onto the concrete ground, Chat blinks twice before slipping his hand from your head and laying it against your cheek, allowing you to lift your head to face him. His slit pupils are shrinking slightly, focusing solely on you and his dangerous pace of heartbeats. For him, it felt like time went by so slowly for a moment, unable to keep himself from getting lost within it. Those eyes that he could only wish will set on him one day – just like his that already have locked themselves onto you since. He didn't if so realize that only a mere two seconds had transpired in between, he felt your hand placed on top of his own – heavens.. he can't look away-

“Gnh-?” A confused expression flickers on his face after you block his face with your palm, as you then spoke. “She has plenty of signals around already, what's left for us is to take the hint, come on.” You say, removing your hand from his face and pulling yourself up, with your other hand holding his – helping him up on his feet. “It's you-! Oh I've been searching for you, have you been hiding like a little coward?” A breaking sound of a voice made both of you turn your heads, your expression wavering when you saw Multimouse landed roughly against the ground from Magnetica’s use of attack. “Multimouse..!” You sling up your yoyo back to your hand, gripping it as you run towards your teammate to aid her.

Chat extended his weapon accordingly, making sure to gain more pressure around it to ensure it doesn't slip off again. He didn't move from his place just yet, his gaze concentrating on Magnetica’s shift of attention. “P-Please! I-I found it, I found it..!” The person shakens, his appearance wrinkled with sweat and fear, he tries to walk towards the female villain – but his foot is stuttering to make a step. His hand up in the air, holding a bangle bracelet, its silver base shining within the sunlight. “Hand it over, now.” He flinched from Magnetica's tone, he nodded fearfully, attempting to hurry – but the bracelet was suddenly getting pulled by one of the magnetic sources, the look of panic on his face was inevitable. “N-No! I-It's falling off!” He scraped his teeth, trying to pull the bracelet back, but it was futile as his hold vanished from it, and the only thing he could do was reach his hand out.

Magnetica’s eyes shot wide, she moves to the bracelet’s source of direction, the chaos of fixtures avoiding her presence – as to not land any hit on her figure. Her field of vision kept intact on the bangle bracelet, though – she blinks when it stops, a black gloved hand securing hold of it. The faint sound of his sharp claw accidentally grazing onto the silver base, she went silent and immovable on her stance. The masked feline shrugs her piercing glare, he adjusted the bracelet right on his knuckles – providing a taunting act despite any consequences. “Is this your kind of style? Silver with this design is nice and all,” He turns his hand like so, as if examining the bangle bracelet, brushing his thumb on the intricate patterns. “But gold could maybe suit it better.”

CLINKKK..!!

A low huff came out of his mouth, his grip tensed around his staff, the screeching noise of metal dragging down on metal was an unsettling feeling on the eardrums. His unnatural instinct saved him from the sharp top point of a detached street lamp, the glass breaking in the process of his defense. Bits of multiple shards that explode close to his face, causing him to lower his head, front hair casting down on the middle bridge of his nose. “I guess you didn't like the suggestion?” His voice sways through, putting up an innocent grin as he lifts his head up after. Then followed by a fused shot coming his way, dodging shouldn't be that hard – but the approaching magnet source was both attracting his weapon and the bracelet, stubbornly leading him towards it rather than avoiding it.

From where you're standing, you saw the scene happening after tending Multimouse and helping her from any encounters with the fixtures –  especially since she's also at a disadvantage with the glowing white outlite stuck on the side of her waist. It comes with an itch for you to head towards your feline companion as well, although — a faint gasp passes from your lips. The huge shadow dimming the sun from the masked feline’s view, Chat could see it, Multimouse could see it, the few people standing distance away could see it, Magnetica could sense it – You thought you could prevent it if you could just wrap your yoyo around and use any other support nearby to stop it. But you already hesitated, the timing won't be right.

Only the best course of action is to use your voice.. even if it’ll barely help or it will, you always knew not to take any chances if not necessarily.

“Chat noir– Cataclysm!!” You shouted through the barriers of your throat, the blonde feline’s expression shifted – that flashy smirk lining up. He lifts up his right hand, tossing the bracelet up high, a firm tone elevates, as he activates his ability, following the word — “Cataclysm!” A bubbling void-like particle floats on his palm, destruction awaiting the touch it places. The car alarm rang above, its shadow dimming onto his figure moreover, a momentary advantage for Magnetica. Quickly dissolve as the feline hero’s hand presses firm onto the car, turning it into nothing but fragments of ashes, as it falls like leaves onto the ground. “Give that back, that doesn't belong to you!” Magnetica charges towards him, a nick of time as he leaps up to retrieve the tossed bracelet, then landing back.

“How about a trade~? Where is your akuma hiding from?” He puts the bracelet back onto his knuckles, catching a quick glimpse of the masked bluenette dashing from the corner of his eye. “Do you take me as an idiot? How about handing me your miraculous first!” He counters her moves and hits, receiving a scowl from the female villain. “Two for one?” You tap the tip of your finger onto the front of your yoyo, your chin tilted up a bit, wondering. They halted for a moment, Magnetica through clenched teeth– looking at you. You sent her a careless smile, hinting at an ideal opportunity. “If so, that bracelet might be made out of lucky— charm..!” You throw your yoyo upwards, a burst of shining red particles starts to surround it, creating a specific object. And, happens to be a.. chain necklace?

You reach up and obtain the red and black small spotted item before any magnet source could attract it. Multimouse ready her weapon at hand, attempting to catch Magnetica off guard – as the villainess steer her gaze at the masked bluenette. Both sides eager to overtake and defeat the other, while the black suited feline sweeps in to join the battle dance. “A thin necklace? What plan am I going to do with this?” You scan around, a little surprised mumble flowing out of your lips, as you spin your yoyo to your side – stopping a metal object from stealing a hit. You knitted your eyebrows together, determined to figure it out. You kept a firm hold of the chain necklace. “There has to be a way.”

“S-Sekkibug..!” A male voice from behind drags you from your thoughts, he hurries over towards you, cowardly trying not to get hurt as he reaches you. Then when you turn back to face him, he desperately holds your hand with both of his, squeezing your palm shakily. “P-Please, you need to help me! I don't wanna get fired from my job! T-That bracelet needs to get returned to Ms Heima..!” He begged, you blinked twice at his request. Ms Heima? Who exactly is her..? Or is he- referring.. Routing your gaze back to the female villain, you wave off the many clouds above your head.

To Magnetica..? The slick shine of the silver bracelet manages to catch your eye, clamped right onto Chat’s knuckles. A spark twinkle around your pupils, picturing an idea inside your head. Your lips gracing into a smile, you face back the panicked individual infront of you, as you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Don't you worry, I think I know exactly what to do in order to return it around her wrist.” You reassured, a hint of mischief in your tone yet he didn't seem to notice. “R-Really?! Oh- thank you so much, Sekkibug..!” He bow down his head onto your hand in gratitude, as you scratch the back of your head from the unexpected gesture. “No need to thank me, we’ll handle it. Please, stay safe.” He lifts up his head, nodding eagerly before scurrying off. Looking down on the thin necklace in your hand, you were about to go on and head towards your feline teammate.

But it seems like he already beat you to it. His arm trailing across your back, supporting you as he swivels you around and against his side. Orienting his metal staff, fending off the close approaching fixtures from meeting you off guard, both of you slowly walking backwards. “Who would've known that you had plenty of time for chit chatting?” He muses, with a little edge to his undertone than usual. Your thoughts got a bit shambled up to reply instantly, shifting your gaze. “Isn't that my job, Cuddlebug?” He leans in close, his breathing hovering over yours — quickly shutting him off as you press the back of your closed hand against his cheek, turning his face back ahead.

“He asked me for help, I had to. And it might've just given me an idea, can you hand me the bracelet? I have a plan.” He hummed playfully with close eyes, before unexpectedly sliding his arm off your back, making you wobble backwards – your foot traction on the ground wasn't enough, as it was at that point – relying on your back heel to balance yourself. “Chat–!?” You called out in the middle of your fall, though– he still managed to seize you before then, his hand capturing yours in a swift intertwine. It occurred quicker than what you could comprehend in your daily studies — and the only thing your mind centered on entirely was the silver bracelet that seamlessly slips over your intertwined hand with his til it settles around your wrist. “How many times have you fallen for me, Milady~?”

A tint of puzzlement looms onto your face, ignoring his question altogether as you pull yourself up using his lent hand. A last dot of time when you drag him over behind you – switching places as you spin your yoyo in shield of Magnetica’s charged shot. “Almost but not quite, Magnetica.” You provoked, your face displaying a composed and unbothered expression. “I can't tell you just how much I despise bugs! Bring me back what's mine!” Magnetica seethes, bawling her fists as she carves a path towards both you and the masked feline. “The tables are turning around, Magnetica! Actually I can invite one more visitor..!” Multimouse chuckles, her jump rope slowly glowing bright pink as she activates the ability — “Multitude!” The exact replica of her appeared, an addition to her defense against the overwhelming metals around the city. “Oh I didn't cower, you insolent mouse. After your little bug friend drops like a fly under my wrath, you’ll certainly be next!” Magnetica laughs evilly, as the twin Multimouses share each other a dismissive look.

“Saving me for last? See, I told you she's obsessed with me, Milady.” Chat grins, his remark filling your brain with loading errors, as you couldn't help but facepalm yourself. However a beeping alert transcends from the blonde feline’s ring, as he crosses his slit pupils down to check, roughly three charges remaining. “Nevermind, it's reversed, I’ll be the first..!” Chat nervously jokes, as he lunges towards Magnetica, thrilled for a fight despite the short amount of time he has left. You lead your yoyo back to your hand, raising your wrist and locking the lucky charm’s necklace onto the bracelet, a small click resounding after. Yet abruptly — a startled noise came from the masked feline’s direction. His metal staff overpowering his grip, throwing him off into a bunch of metal fixtures. The horizontally extended weapon against his stomach pinning him firmly, struggling to break free.

“You bit your own tongue, how interesting!” Magnetica mocked, firing a fused charge behind her continuously – a sabotage towards the masked bluenette who’s right on her tail. You glance for a second at your feline companion, a sense of urgency showering down. For some reason, he's always been at risk, you don't particularly get it. However he hasn't shown any deep concerns about the thought, but.. that's also the reason why that reminds you so much of.. him. Risky and cocky, flirty also. It's so distinctively him, even his luck is outwardly against him too. You find it silly, but even with the latter– worried also. So through and through, you wouldn't allow such an ending. And you're certain, neither does your other teammate.

And then you.. waited.

Standing still, making eye contact with the villainess — till you can snatch the opportunity, and snatch you did. Once she even angled her fused amulet at her main target, it was already too late to back down from. As the magnetic charge shot in your direction, you sprinted forward and threw her silver bracelet directly at her as well. Both item and magnetic energy barely hit one another from the force. Magnetica’s lips widened, as she retrieved her bracelet, returning it onto her wrist, only noticing the thin red and black spotted necklace locked onto her bracelet at a moment’s notice. You use the front of your yoyo as prevention from her magnetic shot, your yoyo glowing white at the outline. Point on the dot, you smirked. Going exactly how you blue printed inside your head.

A beep rings in your senses, a major sand loss on the hourglass. Your eye twitch, launching your yoyo towards Magnetica, an already satisfied smile on her face at two Multimouses hurdling to defend against the bundle of city fixtures and scraps rushing their way from behind her. She merely yawns in indifference, turning her body to the side, resulting in your yoyo to go past her. Then.. “Wait, why is this–” she froze from her place, a faint sound of the swaying chain necklace connecting to your yoyo’s magnetic source. Her arm was forced to go with it, causing her whole body to be pulled back. She crashes into her own pile of metal ruins, grunts leaving her throat. “Multimouse, destroy the amulet!” You yelled, dodging the heavy swirling metals that fortunately and unfortunately got attracted by your yoyo’s magnetic source. The two bluenette’s turned their heads, before nodding in unison. “We will, Sekkibug!”

“No..! This can't be happening! You.. Sekkibug, what did you do!?” Fierce anger displayed in her eyes, not receiving any answer from you as she could only watch as her amulet broke into pieces onto the ground. Her eyes closed in defeat, as the ominous black and glowing purple butterfly was revealed and out of the bridge of control. All of the magnetic energy slowly falters and loses grasp of connection, falling one by one from either the air or its stamped place. You halt in your step once you're face to face with the akumatized victim. Grabbing her wrist and unclipping the lucky charm necklace from the bracelet, and swiftly returning your yoyo back to your hold. Staring up at the escaping akuma as you took some steps back.

“We had seen through your tricky disguise, evil akuma.” You glide your finger across the middle of your yoyo, as it opens up evenly and reveals the inner dimension. Latching the strings onto your pointer and middle finger gracefully, slinking the yoyo across the down line of the strings as you revert it back and swathe it around your other wrist. Then abruptly retract the movements, spinning your yoyo synchronously. “Don't fret now, and face justice!” Locking your sight onto the flailing akuma, with due time you throw your yoyo towards its flying progression, having a successful capture of the akuma as your yoyo immediately closes back, momentarily snaring the akuma. “Trapped ya’!”

You stare down at your yoyo, pressing its main front, triggering it to open as the newly white butterfly flutters out. “Fly high, purified butterfly.” You bid the butterfly a soft farewell, lending your hand under it for a bit, as the white butterfly continues to fly into the blue skies. Another beep from your earring scoops your attention, as you press a finger on top of it, the third spots already flickering out. You wouldn't want to know how much your feline teammate has left, so with that, you drag your hand downwards before throwing the red and black spotted object into the air, firmly shouting —

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The lucky charm item bursts into multiple tiny ladybugs, all of them splitting into different directions, clearing out the awful mess that the city endured in the present time. And soon, returning the akumatized victim back into her original appearance, her eyes flutter open rapidly. Looking around with a fuddled expression, before standing up on her own. “How did I end up here?” She questions, an addition to her baffled mind as she saw the two– three? female heroes infront of her, and then a masked cat-like male running up next to the bug spotted heroine. She wasn't expecting to meet the superheroes face to face, but she guessed wrong. A curious spark on her face as you all did a signature gesture. “Pound it!” And on the spot, the masked feline’s ring last charge blinks nonstop as a warning of de-transformation.

“Happened twice now! The bad luck is growing on me day by day.” Chat cried out as a dramatic effect, taking his metal staff from his back. “I wonder when my lucky charm will come and save my bad omen, one day~” The blonde feline sent you a sneaky look from the corner of his eyes, a hint in his message that you half figured out but– half not. “Chat, you need to go, you're about to change back–” You pause when he unexpectedly lifts up your chin by the top edge of his staff. “You're such a worrywart, Cuddlebug.” He teased, as he pulled back quickly and turned around, and just like in that alleyway — leaving you stricken and confused at his direct and indirect actions. Or are you the only one not processing very direct clues from your feline teammate?

“Ahem..” Ms Heima cleared her throat, as she dusted her uniform. You shifted your attention onto the akumatized victim and Multimouse, both of them blinking at what they just witnessed. “Well- Miss..! Haha- if you want I can escort you back to your home? Office? I wouldn't mind.” Multimouse saves the awkward silence, as the woman shakes her head. “No, I'm fine. I think I already troubled you all enough, I’ll call a taxi.” She says with a small smile, bringing up her phone, as Multimouse nodded in her decision. “Stay safe, ma’am. My partner and I will be on our way as well.” You say, as she gave you a nod of her own. And with that, you and Multimouse go on separate ways, traversing effortlessly into the city of Paris. 

Locating your safe spot to de-transform, you drop down onto the corner alleyway near to your house, right across the street. You look left and right, securing if anyone’s shadows will appear in the corner. When you saw none of the sorts, you closed your eyes and softly muttered — “Spots off.” a swift moment transpires as you change back into your civilian form. Your kwami flying out of your earring, you cupped your palms together, as the tired Tikki lay down softly in it, the urge for energy causes her hunger to intensify. “Y-Y/n..” Tikki mumbles, as you quickly pat your pockets for food. A cheery smile hovering over your lips, before taking out the mini bread bun from your left pocket.

As you undo the silk strings, you unwrap it from its plastic, then hand it into Tikki’s small hands after. You let Tikki finish consuming her food, as she smiles in content before smoothing her way inside your sleeves for cover. You got out of the alleyway, a dark colored car infront of your house managed to tickle your eyebrow in curiosity to why it's parked purposely there. By then– you remembered your mother’s supposed visitors. A mixture of panic pierce into your heart, four seconds counter on the pedestrian countdown. You run hastily towards the lane, crossing the street in time as you drew a breath. Your legs took you infront of your front door, not knowing if you should knock or ring the doorbell– or just walk in..! Well– you already erase option three in the clouds above your head.

The doorbell would be preferable, atleast you think so.. you shake your head, okay– you’ll just go ring the doorbell and hope your mother answers the door instead..! And if not– well, just go come up with some light lies, like got trapped in the midst of the akumatization or something? Yup that's clearly reasonable– you paused.. a ring from your phone causing you to look back and snatch your phone a bit too hard from your back pocket. Strange glances from passersby throwing your way, you quickly press the doorbell – before facing the door— but there isn't any door anymore, only an opened one. Your eyes slowly go up to meet those glinted gray hues, his severe gaze darting on yours, you gulped down awkwardly.

“Did being a reporter work out, Y/n?”

Why do you have a feeling that he's not going to easily let that go..?

Previous & Subsequent Chapters | 01 | 02 | 03 | Loading...

[bloodmoonlich]

Seeing posts with 25k+ notes on posts about us politics and the source is a random bluesky account that's just saying things sigh

[sl8bqqa8]

Heavy stuff below the cut but I had to get something off my chest. I just can't sleep. Some not-so-pretty sl8 lore below.

I'm feeling really stressed out about our upcoming finals. I don't think I'll perform badly; It's just one art class and none of the assignments are difficult or confusing. Plus we have two more working class days and plenty of time between them to get things done. The biggest problem is that it's hard to focus on finishing up these projects when there's so much going on in the background.

I'm really worried about dying. I struggle a lot with paranoia— Every now and then there are days when I develop the unshakeable belief that I am on the way to my final resting place. Whether by anything from a car crash, random shootout, or suicide. But I don't know if I can even call this feeling paranoia because it's not entirely unfounded.

To put it plainly I'm really scared that one of these days my father is going to snap and kill us. Or maybe just my mother. Or that he'll hurt our pets. But mostly I'm worried that he's going to kill all of us.

When I was in 4th grade my parents got into a dispute over money (for context my father forbid my mother from having her own credit or debit card and went to great lengths to limit her financial freedom), and we later (me, my mother, and sister) stayed in a hotel for the day until nighttime when we all went home. But the important part is the way that night ended. Because it ended with my sister asleep in our shared bunkbed, me and my mother cowering in a corner, staring down the door to my childhood bedroom, as my father pointed a gun to us and told my mother that he was going to kill us if she didn't "hand us over." I still remember my mother sitting with her phone in her hands while I begged her to call the police. So needless to say, violence against his family isn't an idea that comes from nowhere.

Additionally, I only found out this year that he has a history of this. He once called my grandmother (on my mother's side) and told her that he was going to kill my mother. After my mother made him end a long time affair and said mistress changed the locks to her apartment, he also broke in through her window, gun in hand, and pistol whipped her in the head when things turned physical. Violence against my mother, and just women specifically is not new to him.

Current day my mother just brought up the idea of divorce after my parents remarried just last year. The argue all the time because the marriage is a mess and my father is a pos. But this latest argument was over my mother not taking his last name this time around. Eventually she snapped at him and basically said "sounds like we might as well just get divorced." And that seemed to slap him out of his entitled self-centered misogynistic mindset because now he's acting all humble and meek. Buying her food and asking to talk about it, swearing up and down that at all costs he doesn't want to divorce. Citing all he's supposedly given up for us, and saying that he just wants us all to be together.

Even if he's being humble this is sort of alarming because the three of us as a whole (me sister mother) were hoping that he'd just go back to Houston on his own or at the very least not put up a fight and stomp off like an angry kid. His parents are aging and he keeps bringing up their health in arguments as to why we should all move down to Houston (not happening). And he goes on and on about all the opportunities he gave up to come live with is and "fix" our family (the only one who wanted him up here was my mother, and even so that was mostly for financial stability). The fact that even with those factors, plus the fact that my parents are completely incompatible, my father is still clinging to this stupid idea of the eternal family worries me. Because I remember how things ended up last time when he thought that he was going to lose his family.

And I'm worried that if my mother doesn't put her foot down hard, or if something goes wrong, he's going to stop being rational and just decide that if he can't have us, then no one can. Clearly it's not like the thought has never crossed his mind. I wish he didn't have access to a gun or a garage opener to the house. I'm really fucking scared right now. It's late night and that would be the perfect time to kill your entire family; The sleeping don't resist a bullet well and you could slip away into the night just as easily if you were smart about it. I don't want to close my eyes because as absurd as it could be, I can't not live to see tomorrow. Or protect my mother and my sister and my cat and my dog.

And it feels so minor in comparison, but on top of that I'm also just knee-deep in the struggles of being a 20-something person trying to find their way in life while navigating severe trauma and inheriting at least two definite debilitating mental illness that I am not medicated for. I've been better about it lately but it's hard to resist the temptation to turn to the drink when shits this bad— Especially since I have at least two homemade gallons of the stuff just sitting around and I know damn well how to make more of it. It's my main hobby.

I have a 67. It's not horrible. I think I could bring it up with this final portfolio grade. But I think part of getting off academic probation is bringing up my GPA to a certain point, and I have no idea if this will be enough. I need to figure out how to check my current GPA and look at the academic probation guidelines again. I feel like enough of a failure already. I don't want to get kicked out of college and have to plead my case with the board to see if they'll let me try again so long as I'm medicated. I'll do it if I have to, but I'm sure my mother already sees me as enough of an embarrassment. Maybe thow in a job + driver's licence and I can stop feeling like such a disappointment.

It's just hard to get my shit together when all of this is happening at once. I'm missing important milestones that people see as hallmarks of adult independence, and people are always on my case about it, but there's already so much I'm trying to figure out how to navigate, and it feels like I'm just using all my energy to survive. And not much else.

I really need to get this homework done before Thursday. I just don't know what will happen or what to do about anything else going on in my life. I've lived every day panic mode anticipating the next disaster since I was 10, and now I'm expected to calm down and just get it together. Why can't things ever be stable and normal? I just wish we were fucking normal. And it feels pathetic to say but the bottom line is I'm scared. I'm really scared.

[rd-eternity]

Whumptober Day 2 Prompts: - “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Theo is back in hell, trying desperately to outrun his sister, knowing no matter how fast he runs or how hard he fights, he'll fail. He doesn't know why he's back here; he helped the pack and hoped they cared about him as much as he'd grown to about them. What he really doesn't know is that he's not in hell. He's in a nightmare that Liam is so desperately trying to pull him from.

“You know I don’t love you like you love me, right? You know it’s a trick, a manipulation, you fell right into it. Anything more than friendship is out of convenience, not feelings.” “That’s not true,” Liam yells, approaching the two cautiously, blue eyes not leaving Theo’s. “You have to know that by now.” Next to him, Liam - the one he kissed - scoffs. “We’re in hell, Theo. Everything is carefully planned, calculated, a trick. Anything you’re given that you want will be taken away.” His hand skims up Theo’s arm, fingers twisting in his short hair. A shiver goes up his spine. There’s a dull red in Liam’s eyes instead of the piercing blue he’s fallen into so many times. “Tell me, if he said he loved you, would you believe him?” He glances desperately between the two Liams, between the boy standing with a hand extended to him and the one with an arm clinging to his waist. For someone who spent so much of his life manipulating others, the trick takes him an embarrassingly long time to see. “He’s not real,” Theo mumbles. “Liam doesn’t love me.”

[thesoulesscollection]

Summary: As a fresh faced recruit new to the military life, Quentin is scared, lost, and alone with nobody by his side.

Chapter Tw/Tags: No Dialogue But Inner Dialogue, Minor Violence, Implied Illegal Activities, Minor Blood, Internal Conflicts, Manipulation, & Power Imbalances

Down Below is a bit of the fic shared;

It was a brazen trap. A load of hot steaming shit. Panic nearly consumes him, not entirely knowing they're set on stomping the light under their feet. 

This wasn't fair! He wasn't going to allow this!

He's going to fight for it if needs be!

[runelocked]

DOES HE PROMISE ? WILLIAM RESISTS ROLLING HIS EYES WITH A GODLIKE EFFORT. He brightens his smile in the same breath, taking some vindictive satisfaction at the sight of her reaching for his hand. Hell, he even helps, shuffling a little closer to her encouragingly. " You can make it ? " He repeats gently, " Even with your poor leg ? " He's certain he's done damage, and in a bad way too: remembers the shriek she'd let out and wonders, scornfully, if she's really so stupid as to believe she can make it to the door, or if she's just trying to lie to herself.

But nonetheless, William Afton is a man of his word ! At least when he chooses to be. So he squeezes her hand, hoists her up into a standing position; she'd been smaller than he'd expected, and it had surprised him when he'd first grabbed her before - now, it's just more proof she won't be an issue when she goes missing. Clearly her parents aren't looking after her, and any of the children that would have missed her are all here already, watching invisible from their suits. One of them groans, the Bonnie suit: but that one is too new into the suit to control it properly; and so William's smile grows, becomes more satisfied and pronounced.

Nobody is going to stop him. Especially not some stupid children. CASSIDY IS ALL ALONE HERE.

" Tell you what, " he says to her, crouching back down to her level, " how's this ? I'll give you a special Spring - Bonnie promise. Those can't ever be broken. " Sets that heavy mask back on his shoulders, covering his face. As soon as he does, the kindness in his smile disappears entirely. " I don't give these out freely. I've only ever made these to Fredbear ! But I can give you one too. " Extending his hand, the rabbit suit curls its fingers, leaving the little finger out reassuringly as if ready to make a pinky - promise. " I am still your friend. Do you believe that ? "

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[radio-writes]

Hi, will u do a human alastor x side mistress reader, so basically he has a wife, but he doesn't really love her, so when he's on the air he has sex with his side mistress in the radio tower. His side mistress knows he's a serial killer, by the way. You don't have to do this if u don't want to. I love ur fics.

By the Gold Ring on His Hand

Synopsis: He loved you and only you. You were his to cherish, to adore, to worship. Sweet words he whispered softy, promisingly, into your ear. Sweet words he also whispered softly to his wife.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of murder, heavy manipulation, cheating

Tags: human!alastor, alastor x reader, gn!reader, reader is the other wo/man

MDNI

You've always revered Alastor.

You were entranced by the way his smile never broke. The way he seemed to take control of any situation he was put in. The he always managed to just charm the socks off of anyone he's ever met.

You loved the way he made little corny jokes. You loved the way he danced—barely drunk from the bottles of rye he downed.

And oh, did you love the way he spoke.

You could listen to him all day on the radio, just absolutely smitten and melting where you stood. 

The one thing you didn't love about Alastor—the one thing you despised, really—was his wife.

That naive little thing. So meek, so quiet. You always hated the way she would cling onto his arm at parties. Loathed the way she'd shyly smile at everyone, including you.

There was just no way that delicate stupid girl could satisfy someone like Alastor.

Alastor needed, deserved, a real partner. One that had enough of a spine not to be stepped on, at the very least.

Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him more; to caress his thighs that perfectly framed your head. You wanted to feel him beneath you, reassure your heart that he was here with you.

You groaned as your longing was denied. You felt Alastor press his shoes harder against your hands, pinning your palms to the floor. The fingers in your hair tightened their grip, guiding you more strictly down his cock.

It was enough to cheer you up a little. Although your touch was declined, the little vibrations your sounds made clearly still had an effect on him. You felt a little proud knowing something as small as you moaning around him pleasured the hefty cock in your mouth.

The reality was far more bitter, though. Not that Alastor would ever let you know that.

Truth be told his grip was a warning. He had explicitly told you to be quiet, to keep your hands to yourself. But you seemed to be so adamant on testing his patience today, as you were refusing to do both.

Alastor's smile strained just a tad bit more in annoyance as he spoke into the microphone. "Hate to finish up the broadcast with some sour news, but someone's gotta keep you lovely folks up to date!"

You continued to bob your head between his legs, hidden from the rest of crew by the control panel. You made sure to drag the flat of your tongue over the under side of Alastor's dick each every time you lowered your mouth to his crotch. If your ministrations did anything for him, you couldn't really tell.

His voice was perfect, not a tone out of place as he continued his broadcast. You've never seen a man so well put together while having someone's mouth serve them so reverently.

"Seems the coppers found a couple more for the good old wooden kimonos last night. Grizzly sight it was—so I heard. Hate to be the ones to dig those poor souls out."

Even though he was the one to put them there in the first place, you suppressed a laugh. Not that you were complaining, though. It was part of how you and Alastor finally got together, after all.

Alastor finished up his broadcast, and you continued your slow little prayer on your knees. He waved his staff away when they tried to approach, simply sending them off with a friendly jest that he'd meet them at the bar after he cleaned up his work station.

It was only when the lock clicked behind his crew did Alastor finally acknowledge you. His lovely smile was intact, but you could tell his mood was a little soured by the way his brown eyes narrowed at you from behind his glasses.

The hand gripping your hair pulled you off his cock, a pathetic whine escaping your lips as he did so.

Alastor tried to ignore the—rather off putting—sight of a thin string of fluids connecting your mouth to the head of his dick. He bent down closer to you, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

"My dear, I thought I told you to be quiet while I worked." His voice was as sweet as ever.

You chuckled lightly, you wanted to move your hands to cup his cheek, bring him even closer to you. Perhaps even for a kiss to lift his seemingly bad mood.

The moment Alastor so much as felt your fingers twitch, he stepped harder on your hands again, keeping them pinned to the floor and away from him.

You opted to shrug your shoulders sheepishly instead. "I may have gotten carried away," You responded coyly "You just taste so good."

Alastor did his best not to cringe, choosing to tighten his smile. Ah, you were in one of your moods again, he thought.

"Then why don't you go ahead and have your fill of me now." His hand left the back of your head, resting instead on the sides of his chair as he leaned back. The gold band on his ring finger momentarily caught the light and drew your attention to it.

Your chest tightened just the slightest bit. You absolutely hated the reminder that Alastor wasn't fully yours. That he'd still go home to his stupid wife at the end of the day.

But not for long, at least that's what Alastor had promised you. And not right now. 

You ran your tongue along the thick vein of his cock, from the bottom, up its shaft, and smiled at the sight of his hips bucking up to your touch.

"In your mouth now again, darling." It didn't sound like a request, but you obeyed faithfully anyway. You were rewarded with a soft sigh as you welcomed him back in your warm mouth.

You'd bet your job that his sweet little wife never pleased him like this. Skittish thing like that would probably run at the thought of putting her lips on a hard dick.

Well, her loss is your gain.

You were so far gone in your own head that you hadn't even noticed Alastor wasn't looking at you.

No, instead his head craned towards the ceiling of his studio, eyes closed and tired.

He was trying to focus on the physical sensations you brought him, not that he had much of an interest in it in the first place, but he tried hard to concentrate. All he had to do was finish, and he could finally leave. Leave you here with some sweet promises, and not have to deal with your disgustingly loving gaze on him until maybe his next shift on Monday.

Not that spending time with his wife at home felt any more appealing.

He pushed the thoughts away, willing his mind to stay on you instead. He thought he can finish, at least he could feel the bottom of his gut tightening just a tiny fair bit.

He focused on the way your tongue felt as it swirled around him. How your lips stretched so softly to fit his shaft. How you practically drooled over his cock. How you—

You were noisier now that you knew you were alone, and it wasn't doing Alastor any favors. A rather loud moan cutting through his mind and it almost made the coil in his gut loosen completely, his shoulders tensing instead.

No, no this just wouldn't do. He had much more interesting plans tonight than to sit there and buy your silence with his cock.

His hand reached out once more, much less gentle than it was before. With less grace and care, Alastor's hand rested on the back of your neck, before harshly pushing you down as he bucked his hips up.

Your eyes were wide, a surge of panic filled you at the suddenness of the sensation. His dick hit the back of your throat and you tried to pull back immediately.

Alastor's other hand came up to the back of your head to push you back down. Your nose pressed firmly to his skin as his cock pushed past your throat. 

Your arms strained as you tried to use your hands to push him away, but Alastor merely stepped on your fingers harsher to get you to stay.

"Ah, fuck, darling. Stay like that. Oh that's lovely." You thought you heard him say.

He was finally looking down at you. The way you heaved as you choked on him. The way your body spasmed to get away. The way panic filled your pretty tearful eyes. 

Your throat tightening around him as you tried desperately to breathe felt miles better than whatever you were trying to do before, and it was exactly what he needed.

"Finally," He breathed out softly, almost in a moan, feeling the coil in his gut finally snap. He pressed you down, just the tiniest bit more and you felt his warm seed flow down your willing throat.

"There we go, dear." Alastor's harsh grip in your hair loosened, slowly petting through your locks. The hand on your neck remained, locking you in and rendering you unable to pull free.

Your eyes flickered up to him, part of you ready to beg for mercy, but one sight of his dazed smile made you pliant. Your body relaxed into his touch, simply letting him ride his high out with your bruised throat. 

He must have just gotten carried away, that's all. Simply something new he never got to do with his stupid wife. 

You felt his softening dick slowly pull out of you, his shaft dragging across your tongue and you finally pulled free with a choked gasp of air.

A gentle hand tipped your face back to meet Alastor's before you could be too dramatic. He pressed a gentle, chaste, kiss to the corner of your lips to calm you.

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear. Your body just makes me feel far too good—just couldn't hold back." The charm practically oozed from his smooth tongue.

Your gaze softened immediately. Your hands, now free from beneath his feet, made their way to his cheeks but he easily pulled back.

Really, what on earth made you think he'd let you touch him with filthy hands. Had you forgotten he'd been stepping on them this entire time? Kind of rude, if you'd ask him.

Not that any of those thoughts showed when Alastor simply, gently, helped you up to your feet by your elbow.

"Always so good to me, my dear. How I got so lucky to have a divine thing like you service me, I'd never know." He stood up with you, part of him did enjoy it whenever he got to look down on you in a more literal sense.

He pressed his body against yours, arms on the control panel behind you as he caged you in. His lips barely grazed your ears as he continued his sweet, sweet, praises. "Why couldn't you have shown up sooner, dear? I would have had it all." 

You placed your hand on his chest, failing to notice the way he flinched at the touch. "You still could, you know? All you have to do is leave that naive little thing and I could give you this every night." Your voice was low, seductive, alluring.

Alastor held back an annoyed groan. This again. His eyes rolled, not that you could see it with his head nuzzling against your shoulder.

"We both know I treat you so much better." You continued, hand trailing up to scratch at the hair at the bottom of his neck. "And I'd never hold you back from that little hobby of yours either." 

He chuckled at that, you could feel his lips at the base of your neck. "My dear, we've been through this." His kisses were soft, gentle, barely touching you, just like how he preferred it. "You don't have to feel so threatened by her, it's you that I want."

"Then why don't you—"

A gasp passed your lips.

"Leave her?" Alastor continued your sentence when you couldn't. His warm tongue licked over the reddened skin he bit. "I will, my dear, I will. Things are just a bit complicated at the moment."

More complicated than you knew, really.

He couldn't leave his wife because her dad was a big boss of his station. His ass would be out on the streets in minutes if he ever hurt that shy doll.

But he couldn't just kill you either. Not when your dad was the town sheriff.

He was lucky you were so obsessed with him that fucking you once in a while was enough to keep your pretty little mouth shut.

Honestly, just fuck the day you caught him slicing that man's flesh. That scum was hardly worth all the trouble he now has to go through.

"But I'm working on it." Alastor promised as he finally pulled away from you.

You gazed up into his warm, honest eyes. You adored the way he towered over you, really. It's like you fit together so perfectly—like puzzle pieces, was it? Was that how that cheesy line went.

"And then we can be together?" Your palms move to cup his face, and Alastor caught them on instinct before they could.

But you didn't notice, not when he corrected his actions so smoothly by pressing his lips to your knuckles instead—he tried his best to ignore how filthy they are, just to hide his mistake. "Of course, darling. In fact, I think I can work things out by tonight." 

Your father was going to be alone at the station.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, my dear. Soon all of this hiding and sneaking around will be a thing of the past." He said, almost with the same amount of excitement as you.

He couldn't wait to toss your body in a ditch next to your old man's corpse.

"But I musn't be late"

He'll miss his chance to slit your father's throat if he lingered any longer.

"Soon you wouldn't have to be jealous of my wife, dear."

After all, the dead don't envy do they?

Alastor willed himself to humor you one last time, pressing his lips to yours before he bid you a good night.

He couldn't have rushed out that door any faster.

Who would have known trying to keep his cover would have eaten up so much of his time? He barely had any left to do the very act he was even trying to cover for.

Honestly, how troublesome.

But no matter, no matter.

He glanced back at the station. He could vaguely see your lovestruck figure through the window. He watched amusedly as you pathetically held your fingers to your lips, absolutely lost on cloud nine.

It won't be long until he was rid of you, and that fact was enough to lift his sour mood.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere FarmBoy

[Yandere M. x F. AFAB Reader]

it's a bit longer than i initially wanted this to be, but i had fun writing it! it's a bit more rushed towards the end so sorry if it shows. this was supposed to be for october, but i ended up not finishing it in time, so i'm very happy to have it finally done

TW. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Noncon, fingering, baby trapping, yandere, slut shaming, victim blaming, bullying, non consensual touching, misogyny, gaslighting, manipulation, implied future forced relationship, abuse of power

The local golden boy your father has hired has taken a keen interest in you, an impoverished farmer's daughter, and you can't seem to shake him off. As he doubles down on pursuing you, and you continue to refuse him, the lengths he goes to ensure you'll be his increase drastically with one autumn night and a chase through a wheat field.

7.2k words

You didn’t know why Daniel insisted on working on your father’s farm. It wasn’t like his family wasn’t well off. In fact, out of all the families within the valley, his was the most successful by far. Hell, they were the only ones who could actually afford to employ other people. He drove a shiny new truck just like the rest of his kin, and lived in a big, multi story house at the top of the hill.

 Your daddy could only really pay him scraps. The land you lived on was rough to say the least, all overgrazed and tough, untenable soil that had a Ph level that could’ve come straight out of hell in your honest opinion. Basically, there wasn’t shit to be earned, and the only reason why your folks even tried to desperately keep growing crop after failed crop was because if they didn’t, then you’d be flat out homeless and starving. The stock your family produced wasn’t worth a dime, either. Milk too sour, corn too small, eggs so dull and tiny people thought that they weren’t even from chickens; you were surprised people even bought from your daddy at all.

The poor state of your homestead was reflected in nearly everything else around you. You always looked some kind of mussed up: Wild, unkempt hair, dirt under your nails, clothes that looked either too small, too big or way too out of fashion. You got bullied quite a bit by the other young ladies in town. That is if you could even be called a young lady. There wasn’t a lick of lady in you it seemed.

You and your family were always on the edge of going broke, going hungry or some other kind of misfortune, so you found it increasingly odd why the Petusky boy was so keen to get his hands dirty when there was nothing he could get in return.

Daniel Petusky, or Danny as he would so kindly remind you to call him, was by most accounts the sweetest, most eligible young man in town. He was a tall, stocky sort of guy with large, rough hands and a handsome smile. You’d be stupid to say he wasn’t quite the looker, and not to mention he was all muscular and strong lookin from all his time working. When you were in highschool, he’d been the star of the school’s football team, and there were even rumors that he was getting offers from big, fancy schools in big fancy cities. You remembered how blooming with jealousy you were back then because of that. But, as you were so constantly reminded of through seeing his working boots that had to be worth at least a couple hundred bucks, he was wealthy too. 

He helped out around town, was sweet to older folks, and made all the ladies swoon with a flip of his sandy blond hair. He charmed your father just as easily, asking him if he could work his land for him, or at least help him with it. Of course your daddy would say yes. He needed all the help he could get, and lord know you weren’t nearly enough to actually keep this place afloat. Plus, who else would accept such low pay? It wasn’t like there was a line out the door for a chance to work at the [Last Name] farm, now was there?

You sighed as you hauled a bag of feed over to the chicken coop. It was mighty heavy, and you grunted as you nearly slipped in the mud. Hands shot out and grabbed your waist, and you gasped in surprise as the bag landed on the ground with a large thud.

“Careful there, wouldn’t want you to take a tumble now,” Daniel chuckled softly. His voice rumbled in your head like thunder on the horizon. He steadied you and pressed you close against his chest. Your heart thumped wildly in your ribcage, though only part of it was because of your little fall. No, it was the way his fingers inched over your curves, toying with the waistband of your jeans. You swallowed thickly.

“Thanks…” You mumbled out before you stooped down to pick up the feed once again. You didn’t miss the way his gaze stuck to you when you did.

“You really shouldn’t be doing heavy liftin’, you know,” He said and pushed you to the side to grab it from your strained arms. He made it look so effortless, and it annoyed you to no end. You followed after him into the coop, an encasement of wire around it. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You frowned and didn’t respond to him. You just kept on going as you ripped open the sack to spill out all the seed. The birds rushed around your feet to get their meal, and normally you would’ve laughed and indulged in petting a couple of them, but normally you didn’t have company. Daniel had been getting better at finding you it seemed. Day by day it felt like you saw him more and more. 

You tried not to be one of those people that held onto their younger years, but whenever he was around, all you felt were the lingering memories from highschool. You were mocked on the daily. Most of the adults thought you were lost cause, always late to classes and struggling through the course material. You were called all sorts of names: ugly, stupid, slow. While he never bullied you directly, you always felt him staring. At games, in class, when he would drive slowly by you while you walked home everyday. You shuddered to think about it.

You always remembered a very specific moment that happened back in highschool. Especially now that you saw Daniel everyday again.

“What do you think about the farmer’s daughter?”

“Which one?”

He sounded so innocent, so sweet. Like he didn’t know.

“Don’t go fuckin’ with me, Petusky,” One of the guys chuckled, a cruel hint in his eyes. “You know which one I mean. The trash.” Oh… they were talking about you.

You were sitting in the diner eating a small plate of fries. You couldn’t really afford to eat anything more than that with your limited allowance and pay. You clenched your fist in your lap as you listened to the group of guys speak harshly about you. You were just out of view around the corner, all alone in the tiny booth usually reserved for couples and the like. The waitress shot you a pitiful look, and she slipped you a milkshake for free. It should’ve made you feel better, but it did more harm than good. She knew. Everyone knew you as trash.

“Come on, don't talk about her like that. She just ain’t got the means,” Daniel laughed. The sound rang in your ears, and you felt sick to your stomach.

“Or the looks.” A chorus of snickers erupted.

“She ain’t that bad,” He started, but he stopped short and just let out a playful sigh. “Hey, if y’all hate her, then y’all hate her. Can’t stop you from not wanting to fuck her if you don’t want to haha,” He joked. You could hear the strain in his voice and just imagine his blinding white smile. You busied yourself with the milkshake and tried to ignore how gross it felt to swallow down.

“Yeah, no way I’d ever touch that bitch without a three foot pole. Probably got fleas or somethin’.”

“Haha yeah…” 

They sat there chatting shit for a while longer, and you sat there miserable, shaking, and on the verge of tears. You wanted to sink into the checker patterned floor and disappear forever. You knew people didn’t like you, but was it really that bad? Were you that awful? Your eyes stung, and you just stared at the empty seat in front of you.

Eventually, the group of guys, all clad in their Ariat branded clothing and snap back hats got up and got ready to leave. None of them spared you a glance, too busy filing out to their trucks to look around them. But Daniel did.

His hazel eyes swiveled over towards you, most likely just out of habit, and caught on you. He froze. The two of you stared at each other, and his face morphed from quiet shock to anger. The planes of his features, so normally joyous and polite, shifted into something so ugly and unfamiliar that you flinched.

No one else had seen, and no one, not even him, had ever brought it up again.

Daniel liked to follow you around when there wasn’t really much work to be done. The property wasn’t the biggest, so he could find you quite easily if you weren’t by the house. Like now, while you were lounging in the barn and reading a book while hidden behind some shelving. You clutched onto the pages of the novel (some old faded copy of a Jane Austen book that you had plucked from a free bin at the local thrift store), and looked up nervously as you heard his heavy footsteps thudding against the concrete floors. He loomed over you and hummed softly.

“What you got there?” He asked and crouched down to your level. You flinched back and glanced between the small, hard to read print and him.

“A book…” You mumbled out. It was always hard to speak when you felt so embarrassed. Everyone and their mother knew that you struggled severely all through school. The teachers pretty much gave up on you, and you stumbled your way through graduation. You’d never been very smart, but sometimes you wish you were. When that happened, you tried to push yourself and learn.

“Seems like a might hard for you,” Daniel chuckled and plucked it from your hands. You let out a noise of protest as he thumbed through the pages with a low whistle and patted the top of your head. You bristled a bit. “I’m sorry? Whaddya' mean by that?” 

“Just that there are all sorts of fancy words in here,” He shrugged as he cozied up beside you. You could feel the warmth of his skin, burning from all the sun he soaked up, through the fine cotton of his shirt. It was long sleeved so that he wouldn’t get burnt during the heat of the day, but it didn’t make you feel any less flustered.

He was so confusing. Did he act like this with all the other girls in town? It was stupid to picture him as some robot who had his settings permanently flipped to flirt mode, but you genuinely couldn’t figure out why else he would be slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

“Daniel-”

“Danny.” He interrupted quickly, and you flinched from just how barely concealed his annoyance was. You tried to get up, you really did, but he was just so much stronger than you. You squeaked as he yanked you over his thighs. His strong bridged nose was pushing itself in the crook of your neck. “You call me Danny, you hear?” He murmured. His breath was so warm. All of him was just muscle and heat. You’d never been with anyone like this, never felt a guy’s chest pressed against your back. 

Your daddy would skin you alive for this, surely. There wasn’t a single chance in hell that you wouldn’t be punished if not run out for fooling around with a respectable young man who you weren't even dating. 

“The only thing we got is our dignity. It don’t pay no bills, but it do keep us in good graces. You do anythin’ stupid- and hear this well, girl. You do anythin’ stupid, and you’ll be out of this house before you can even pull your pants up.”

The threat was always so clear to you that it was impossible to not whimper and tremble as he groped you over your clothing. He chuckled, a soft sound that made you feel all sort of sick, and held you tight.

“Now honey, you don’t have to go all spooked on me.” He was kissing your shoulder, all tense and rigid. You felt like a piece of wood being bent far past what it should. Your bones were about to splinter, your heart about to fly out like shrapnel and just crack all over his insistent, firm hands.

“Don’t… It ain’t- ain’t right,” You stammered out. The spell was broken, and you started to grab at his wrists to get him to slow down. “ I’ll get in trouble,” You tried to reason, to hope that those golden boy manners would win out. Hope that he’d get off of you and leave you alone.

“Trouble? Hon, who you gettin’ in trouble with?” He laughed and reached up to cup your chin and face. Your head was pulled up in a craning stretch, and his fingers squished your cheeks in a playful, humiliating gesture. “With your folks? Don’t be silly [Name].”

“You’re grown, I’m grown… this is just normal between two grown people,” He hummed and started to tug up your shirt.

“H-hey! Quit it! I’m serious! I don’t want to,” You repeated, gaining your voice as he wriggled his way under the band of your soft, worn bra and began to knead your breast. He picked up the book while he pinned your legs underneath his own heavy ones and forced you to look at the random page he opened it to, completely ignoring your plea.

“Tell me, honey. What does this mean?” He asked

“What?”

“Read for me.” He drawled in a demanding tone. Your eyes flitted around nervously. “I want to know what you think you’re doing when you’re not with me. Hon, you really shouldn’t be wandering alone like this.”

“This is my farm-”

“Your Daddy’s farm,” he corrected and tugged on your nipple. You whimpered as a bolt of arousal coursed through you. Your cheeks flushed with heat. You’d never had such need dripping from between your legs before, and it got worse and worse as he pinched and rolled the sensitive nub between the rough pads of his fingers. You could feel the way his smirk felt against your skin.

“This ain’t your land, but that’s okay. I could buy it for your folks, make it so y’all don’t have to work so hard. And you’d get to sit pretty in the house all day, reading these books and whatnot. Now wouldn’t that be nice? Not having to work to the bone? Not having to get your pretty little face all mussed up?” He whispered and nipped at your cheek. You were on the verge of tears, watching helplessly as he threw your beat up novel to the side. You watched in detached horror as the words and ink were smudged and bled out by the small, dirty puddle it had landed in. Your hands curled into fists.

“Just say yes, honey. I’d treat you real nice. Promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and your entire body thrummed with shame, fear and arousal. You didn’t want to admit it. You’d rather have your heart torn out than ever in a million years say that it felt good, or that the attention he was sneaking you made you feel fuzzy inside sometimes. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he made you feel like this weirdo for ignoring him when he was, in fact, an actual, honest to god threat.

“No.”

“Hm? Repeat that for me now, would you honey?” He purred. 

You gritted your teeth and with a burst of strength, you shoved off of him. His molten caress was gone in an instant, and your thighs shook as you scrambled to crawl away. Your chest heaved in little short bursts, and he looked at you with genuine surprise. He looked at you as if it was the first time he’d considered you could even do that.

“I said no!” You didn’t think it was proper for a lady to be hollering at a ‘nice young man’ like that, but you did. You didn’t care who heard you, not that it mattered. The barn you were in was a decent ways away from everything else on the property. You smoothed your hands over where he had touched and kissed you, like it would get rid of the pure lust he was heaping onto you.

Daniel’s pretty face scrunched up into a glaring, furious version of itself. You could see the way his veins bulged in his neck and the way he flexed like a predator getting ready to pounce. You swallowed thickly, but you managed to wobble up onto your feet, to for once be able to look down on him.

“I don’t know what you think your talkin’ about, but I am not some- some easy girl that- that you can just sweet talk into giving you some,” You spat out. He moved to stand, and you took a step back. His hands came up in a placating gesture.

“Now, don’t go rattlin’ off about nothin’ you don’t understand,” He said, voice sharp. There was an undeniable frustration to the way he carried himself, to the way he huffed slightly and never took his narrowed eyes off of you. “I’m not talkin’ about foolin’ around, honey. I wanna have the real thing. Kids, a nice wedding, to come home to you every day… I wouldn’t just leave you,” he nearly spat. His lips curled in anger, but it wasn’t directed at you. No, it was more the suggestion that he was fucking around.

“You and me, [Name], are going to be a proper couple one of these days. And you’re gonna be my wife, I’ll tell you that.”

You shuddered. There was a slimy feeling working its way up your body, through your guts and through the tips of your stood up hairs on the back of your neck. He was crazy. A downright maniac. There was that similar look in his eyes, the one he had given you years back in that diner, and you wondered how deep this went. 

How long did he spend stalking you through the fields, hoping to have you pressed under him? How long had he been trying to worm his way into your life? More importantly, when exactly did he decide that just faking nice wasn’t going to cut it anymore?

“Like I’d ever let that fuckin’ happen,” You spat and ran straight out of that barn all the way home.

There was a fall festival happening in town. Your daddy was preparing to sell things at the market, though there wasn’t much interest in buying fresh produce this close to winter. 

“Now there ain’t enough to go around for you to go. Just stay here and we’ll bring you back something real nice,” Your mother had said with a small, pained smile before they packed up the truck full of goods and lumbred off into the orange painted sky. 

You were left standing in front of your empty house with the porch light fighting off the oncoming darkness of night. It was quiet when your family wasn’t here to fill out the house with sounds of cooking, arguing and just life in general. There was a weird sense of unease that settled in your gut now that you were on your lonesome. It felt like shit to just be abandoned like that, to know that your kin was out there having fun and interacting with the rest of the town while you were stuck closing up the farm for the night. You sighed, fists curling at your side as you kicked idly at the gravel pebbles on the path.

Well, there wasn’t much use in throwing a pity party. The coop needed to be locked up, the heaters in the barn needed to be turned on, the gates all had to be checked. It wasn’t all that much work all things considered, but it was enough to have you pushing through the shadowed fields at a hurried pace.

You carried out your tasks, floating through the empty farm with a goal of relaxing down in your cozy bed to read more of that novel you had been so desperately trying to finish. The cool autumn breeze brushed past your skin and made you shiver. Goosebumps. How strange… it wasn’t cold enough for that.

It was nearly silent save for the rustle of leaves and the crunch of your feet against the ground. You hummed softly and rubbed your arms as night finally fell over your quaint home.

“It ain’t supposed to be this chilly yet,” You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the path to get back to your house from the back of the property. You eyed the wheat field and stopped in your tracks. Hey now… there wasn’t any harm in taking a shortcut, now was there? It wasn’t like your father was there to holler at you for walking through the crops. You knew your way through it pretty easily, didn’t get turned around or nothing even if it was completely dark. The moon was full and practically beaming down onto the golden stalks, now painted pretty and silver. 

You weaved through the field with ease, sighing softly as you could see the roof of the house through the leaves. You caught sight of the peeling paint and nearly slumped in relief. Well, you were being excluded from the fall festivities, but at least you could get all cozy for once. You stepped out past the edge of the field and now in the open, eyes fixed low on the ground as you tried to not trip over your own damn feet, but when you looked up you couldn’t help but freeze. 

There, standing in front of your porch, was a tall imposing figure silhouetted in the hazy yellow light buzzing above the garage.

You came to a halt instantly, your breath hitching right as your heart stuttered. “What in the…?” You whispered to yourself as you took in the sight of the stranger. He was looking at the spaces where the truck would normally be, and you had half a mind to not just run up and start hollering at this stranger. What if he needed help or something? You didn’t see any car around  or nothing, so maybe he was in trouble. You squinted, and you couldn’t help the little gasp that left your lips as you realized that he had on a burlap sack fitted loosely over his head. He had gloves on too, the nice leather kind that you knew cost more than what you spent on groceries in a week. But no good man wore gloves when he wasn’t working, and this guy wasn’t doing anything but staring at the front door.

Your fingers twitched as you just stood there wide eyed and slack jawed. What the fuck should you do? The kind, ladylike thing to do would be to ask if he needed anything or if he was lost, but there was something stirring in your gut that was telling you to go and hide as quickly as you could. You slowly began to back away, one footstep at a time. It was like everything was frozen around you, your breath stilling in your lungs.

You couldn’t look away from him, even as you retreated further and further. His head swiveled slightly as he examined the porch of your house, and you were sent further and further into a frozen spiral as he finally turned to finally look at the fields. The fields where you were inching towards, to be specific. Of course you couldn’t see his features, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was searching for something. And when he finally turned so that you could fully take in the way his muscles tensed and his posture hunched into something more haggard and eager than you’d ever have expected, you realized that something was in fact you. 

A scream tore out of your throat as he barrelled towards you, his hands outstretched and ready to catch you. You could hear him calling your name, but you just started running. How did he know you? It didn’t matter though, not when you could practically taste the danger in the air with every ragged breath you inhaled.

Leaves whipped against your face and arms, leaving faint red lines from how harshly they scraped you, but you kept going. The man’s heavy footfalls thundered after each of yours, and you shrieked in pure horror as he reached up and grabbed the back of your shirt and roughly yanked you back. Your feet skidded in the loose dirt as you thrashed and tried to fight him off.

“Stop fussin’ and behave!” He commanded, his voice gruff with annoyance. It sounded like he was purposefully speaking deeper than his normal voice would allow. He followed his words up by clamping his gloved hand around the back of your throat and shoved you down to your knees. 

“Ngh! Let me go! My folks will be back any second, a-and then you’re gonna get it you fuckin’ spineless little-!”

Your snarling was cut off with another cry of fear as he squeezed down on your windpipe for a fraction of a second. He grappled with your shaking body as he pushed you up against his chest and pressed you down into the earth. Your eyes were wide and your nostrils flared with panic at the feeling of soil against your cheek.

“Your family ain’t here. They ain’t gonna be here for a while. Quit cryin’ before I give you something to really cry over… shit and I’m tryin’ to be all romantic. I know you’re stubborn but shit…” He grumbled and nuzzled his face against the crown of your head. The burlap of the sack was rough and unpleasant, just another layer upon the mountain of shit you were in. He inhaled deeply, sniffing your neck and shoulder through the barrier of fabric. You shuddered and balled your fists up.

That voice, that touch: it was all so horribly familiar. 

“Daniel?” Your voice carried a hint of betrayal you wish wasn’t there. You disliked him, thought of him a creep, but this was beyond anything that you would’ve ever thought him capable of. But then again, when had he ever given you the chance to actually trust him. If anything, you should’ve expected this. Should’ve known. Should’ve done something.

He stilled behind you, his feverish panting ceasing all at once and replaced with eerie silence. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the moment seemed to stretch on forever. Slowly his hands slid over your belly, pressed between the ground and your soft skin and ruching up the fabric of your shirt.

“Daniel,” You repeated his name, more panicked. It was like you were back in the barn again, but this time you felt no warmth from his skin. His sun kissed boyishness that had you squirming with unknown feelings was now replaced with simple cold dread, bathed in silver moonlight and casted with iron resolve. “Daniel, stop it.. Please,” you croaked out as tears gathered in your lashes.

“... You can still say yes [Name]” He whispered, nearly as desperate as you were for a brief moment. You flinched at his voice, but you found no sympathy in his rigid form. You opened your mouth again to beg, but you squeaked as he covered your mouth with his thick, gloved hand. You squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m tryin’ to give you the world here, and all you have to do is be a good girl for me and take it, alright?”

The sound of your clothes ripping filled your ears, and he yanked the tatters of your sweater away. He grunted at the effort, shoving you further down to secure you while he reached underneath your squirming form to unbutton your jeans. The denim burned your thighs as it scraped past, leaving your skin sore to his kneading of the soft skin. His breath hitched once his fingers wormed their way past your clenched legs to cup your pussy through the worn cotton of your panties. 

“ Oh…” He sighed, sounding so dreamy and fascinated. It was like he weren't about to do the worst thing that had ever happened to you. “Would you look at that,” Danny murmured and fucking squeezed. You kicked against him as hard as you could, and he only laughed softly. “You’re already wet.”

You screamed in protest at that, but he whispered shushes into your ear.

“No use denying it, honey,” He almost sounded amused as he dragged your underwear down to finally reveal what he’d been after. He finally let go of your face, and you gasped for air, letting out a string of curses so foul your father would've surely beat you for even uttering them. He ignored your profanities and wrangled your pelvis into his lap, your thrashing legs on either side of his thick waist. Your nails dug into the dirt as you tried to crawl away, but he shook you harshly. “Quit squirmin’! I deserve a good look at my future wife…” he grumbled, annoyance muffled by the burlap sack. It was even worse that you couldn’t see his face. 

Suddenly, your cunt was burning. You hissed, and your fingers curled around the earth. “Ow ow ow!” You cried. Daniel made a curious noise.

“Hm, was hopin’ you’d be a bit looser… relax honey, I ain’t gonna hurt you. You just gotta relax a bit,” He cooed and stroked your lower back, squeezing the globe of your ass and holding you in place with one hand while the other was currently trying to stuff its digits into your tight, clenched walls. You squeaked as his thumb pressed harshly down on your clit, and you jerked at the sensation. “Shh, shhh, it’s okay …” he murmured. It was the same way you would speak to frightened livestock before it was sent for slaughter, all placating and sweet despite the animal knowing something was obviously wrong. Your dry walls clenched around the leather, pulsing as he worked at the little bundle of nerves until pleasure sparked like embers. Slowly, but surely, he worked your hole into a leaking, slicked up mess, his glove covered in your juices.

After a while of prodding and trying to roughly finger you, he finally stopped. You were crying, your tears mixing into mud now smeared across your cheeks. Instead of relief, dread took over your gut.

“I think you’re ready, honey…” He whispered, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Your thighs trembled as he stroked them and moved you once again. His arms wrapped around your waist, his muscular chest pressed against your back. His breath was hot against your neck and ear, the burlap sack rubbing against your skull. The sound of a zipper flying and denim rustling flowed into your frazzled brain. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to say no anymore, your head rolling forward limply to try and avoid his heady gaze that you could feel burning into your skin. 

Something hard and hot pressed against your ass cheek, and you jerked away. He fumbled around for a bit, trying to line himself up with your clenched entrance. There were no more hushed promises or niceties, just rough grunts and the strain of his muscles against you. 

The first thing you noticed was how much it burned. It wasn’t like that of being burned, though you wished it was. No, it was more like the stretching you would do in gym class way back when. It was past the point of comfort, feeling muscle thin out and weaken while you breathed deeply to stop feeling it so much. 

He groaned in your ear, loudly too. 

“ Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” He rasped. “To have a moment like this?” You gasped as he bottomed out. Your guts were all squished up in places that you didn’t even know existed before. You moaned softly, partly out of pain and out of surprising warmth. Something stirred within you as he drew back, shuddering and stilted. 

It took him a few moments to get it right, and he laughed in boyish glee when he finally managed to keep up a steady pace. He burrowed his head in the crook of your neck, joining you in the mud. Warmth spread through your gut as he pumped into you. At first it was just harsh prodding that hit the wrong angles in your stupidly wet cunt. Every blubber of fear, every hiss and whimpered ‘no’ only pushed him to find different places, find different ways to make you see stars and gasp when you should’ve been screaming.

“You’re always- fuck, you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me,” He bit your earlobe through the thick fabric covering those charming, poisoned lips. “If it ain’t your goddamn folks around to stop me, then it’s you,” he practically spat, breathless and heady. “You ain’t got not right to say no to me when you know damn well that I’m the only one who can treat you well,” he snarled as his hips met yours roughly. 

You felt so full, and when his hand dipped down once again to find your clit, you could do nothing but squeal as he pinpointed those spots that had you seeing blurry from both inside and out. Your back arched despite your muscles feeling like they were pulled thin to the point of no return, flexing and twitching with every slap of his balls against your thighs.

“You’ll see- hngh- you’ll see how good you have it,” He promised ominously.

He picked up the pace all of a sudden, emboldened by whatever was going on in that thick skull of his. You let out a strangled cry, your scuffed shoes kicking up dirt everywhere as the pressure in your belly finally started to rise into a frightening, all consuming pulse that rippled up your entire body. It was like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was fucking terrifying. Your eyes were blown wide, and you began to shriek and buck your hips not to meet his pace, but rather to seek and escape from the impending climax that was gripping your limbs and locking them in aching pleasure. 

Danny shoved you further down, wrapping over you like he was some kinda snake. It felt like an apt comparison considering that this was the closest to being eaten alive that you could imagine anyone going through.

“ [Name] [Name] [Name] “ 

He chanted your name as he pumped his cock further and further into your pulsing heat. He was lost in the fervor of it all, too caught up to make his words coherent anymore. Not that anything would register through the haze of your tears and impending doom, but at least you didn’t have to pretend to listen. 

“Ngh! Fuck!”

He had to be close by now. Your thighs were a mess of your own juices and smeared with his precum and sweat, and the two of you writhed together in some mockery of tenderness. Daniel gasped and tensed, his muscles locking together as he finally spilled his release inside of your waiting walls. His voice became high pitched and whiny, and then, in a moment of pure heat and desperation, he finally spilled within you.

You didn’t know when Daniel left your side, but it had to have been a few hours at the very least. You hadn’t moved, too shocked and sore to do anything but bleakly stare into the thick maze of wheat stalks just beyond your fingertips. But he did leave at some point, and when your folks came back, you were alone.

As you had suspected, your father was livid.

“ HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUCKIN’ STUPID?”

It was awful. Almost as awful as what had been done to you, but it was somehow even more shameful. It had been terrible, sitting there on a rickety dining room chair that screamed and groaned everytime you flinched and shuddered. Your mom at least had the decency to wrap a towel around you while you were torn into. 

You had tried to tell them, “It was the Petusky boy” and “It wasn’t my fault”. None of your words seemed to hit.

“Danny wouldn’t do something like that.” Your Pa’s response was immediate, and you shut your mouth quickly, gaze boring into your hands curled in your trembling lap.

“Did you see who it was?” Your mom tried to coax out of you, though you got the impression she didn’t believe you either.

“No he had a mask but-”

“That settles it then,” Your dad cut in as he paced the room, his jaw was set tight, and your stomach churned uneasily. “He’s a good boy. A smart one too. He wouldn’t do something like that, and certainly not with you. Be honest [Name], you had to be askin’ for some shit. I’m not stupid. I swear-! We leave you alone for a goddamn second and you’re spreadin’ your legs for the first fool that comes by. And you have the nerve to blame it on an honest man,” he hissed out, and you felt tears brimming to your eyes. 

Your mama glared at him, but she did nothing to say anything against her husband. She merely shushed you and rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“From now on, you ain’t settin’ a foot off of this farm, you hear?” He snapped. You sank further into yourself, wishing you could just disappear. “Now, we’re going to keep this quiet. You’re going to keep your trap shut about this, and you’re not going to say a word about this to Petusky boy. And if I find out you did or if you managed to knock yourself up? You’ll be out on your ass before the sun comes up.” The ultimatum was laid bare, and you could do nothing but bite your lip and nod.

In the next few weeks, it felt like you were living in hell. Daniel still worked on your family’s farm, and you tried everything in your power to avoid him. It was strange, though. Even though you could feel his eyes following you everywhere, he hardly spoke to you since that night. You almost could’ve mistaken yourself for having imagined it if it weren’t for the warning looks your Pa shot you nearly every hour. Honestly, it probably would’ve been better if you had just made it all up.

Of course, you couldn’t just forget, but you wish you could. 

“Shit…” You murmured as you looked down at the faded calendar you had stashed in the barn along with your collection of paperback romances. It had been your escape recently, but now you once again were forced to face reality. You were late for your period. Pretty late at that, by at least a week in and a half. It was hard to ignore the reality that you could be pregnant, especially since he’d finished inside.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

You screamed and tried to spin around, but Daniel quickly reached out to grab your arms and pin them in place, holding you still as his lips brushed against your earlobe. Revulsion and fear coursed through you, and your heart beat rapidly as he plucked the calendar from your trembling fingers.

“Hmmm,” His voice hummed low in his throat, a sweet noise that should’ve put you at ease, not on the verge of a breakdown. “You’re gonna have my baby,” He announced, smiling against your neck. Panic coursed through you, and you tried to squirm away as he snuggled up against you and dragged you over to some old crates to sit down. He played with the hem of your shirt, positively beaming with excitement.

“N-no I ain’t!” You protested with a face full of terror. He just laughed and hugged you.

“ I know… I know…” he murmured soothingly and pulled out a box, something rattling around inside. “But there’s a chance, ain’t there?” Pregnancy tests. A fucking two pack. You bit your lip, you couldn’t deny that you needed to know if you were or not. You silently took it from him and walked over to the run down bathroom. He waited, giving you space for the first time. Probably because he knew that even if he did, you had nowhere to run. 

Two lines on both tests. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose as Daniel smiled softly.

“See? I told you I was going to make you my wife,” He reminded you, and you felt sick.

“My folks don’t believe that you did it.”

“Really? Well ain’t that something… don’t fuss too much, honey. I’ll just work my charm, and you’ll be up in my house with a rock on your finger by the end of the month,” His promise was firm, and he squeezed your side, careful not to press too hard on your lower belly.

“And what if… what if I don’t want to?”

The question was quiet, desperate even. His eyes burned a hole into your skull, digging around in your brain and trying to pull on your thoughts and feelings. Slowly, he reached his hand up and grabbed your face. It was just rough enough to make you stumble forward, and you gasped.

“ You think that anyone out there is gonna believe you over me?” He asked softly, deceptively so. “That anyone gives a damn about what you think and feel, [Name]? I am the best option you’ve got. I’m the only option you got,” He continued, entwining one of his hands in yours as he walked you to the door.

“Your folks don’t care, no one in this town thinks of you as anythin’ but a tramp, and, shit- when you start showing? You think anyone is goin’ to give you a chance to prove you’re anythin’ else? Now I know you ain’t stupid, honey. Come on, you know as well as I do that this is the best that you’re ever gonna get,” Danny’s words were mocking, and his handsome face was obscured in shadow by the light pouring in from the barn door. You swallowed thickly as he wrapped his fingers gently around your throat.

“And…” His voice lowered as he leaned in to look you in the eyes. “ If you decide you want to be dumb, then I don’t mind tryin’ again to set you straight. Matter of fact, I’ll keep doin’ so until you get it in yer pretty little head that you’re gonna be mine.”He dragged you out of the barn, down the dirt path, and up onto the rotting porch of your house. Daniel flashed you a dazzling smile, his fingers digging into your own. As he reached for the doorknob, you thought of a million ways of how you could get out of this, could leave and run for the hills, but in the end you could only stand there. He seemed to notice you lost in thought and pause, raised your hand to his lips, and planted a swift kiss to your knuckles. “Don’t you worry, honey. I’ve always got you.”

[yamanehaize01]

Miracle laid in Serendipity: Unveiling the Voyage of Miraculous Bearers

The Unknowing Tale between Y/n L/n & Adrien Agreste

Description: Y/n L/n is not a very focused and attentive person when it comes to important things, her attention to detail is lower than she could ever admit. That's why the word "Naïve" is sometimes the title above her head. But who would of thought she will be given an opportunity to be better at one important thing? She won't let it slip from her fingers, even if she ended up sacrificing her sanity in the process.

One may never realize the length she gone through with her new responsibility, everyone appreciate her polar opposite. She may never spare herself another rest, but atleast lives won't be at stake anymore when she's here.

Her responsibility as being the beholder of the Ladybug Miraculous...

Towards the bright side, her teammates is here for her. And even if she makes mistakes here and there in her civilian life, she will try her best in the life of saving lives. Although, she realizes the sign from one of the people she trusted too late.. being prey is not what she is, she just needs to remind the 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 of that.

Chapter 01: Roam the Meadows

Subsequent Chapters | 02 | 03 | 04 | Loading...

Second — Point of View.

Perspective of Y/n L/n.

A yawn left your throat, stretching your arms up to rid of the slight numbing that happened when you were asleep. Taking a small look on your bedroom window, a small smile forms on your lips. You set yourself to the side, grabbing your blanket off of you and standing up from your bed and taking two steps that led you to your windowsill. Having a cramped place is something that you’re used to since you were born, having moved into Paris two years ago. You feel this sense of being truly at home when the place is small, is it just you?

You set one of your elbows on the windowsill, bringing your palm under your chin as you look at the view of cars, people, and animals down below. Then you saw some people wearing backpacks and crossing the road, right then you finally realized something. You slightly jolt off from the windowsill, with a look of shock and worry. It's Monday..! You don't get to do extra things when you're supposed to be going to school right about now! Y/n— you idiot..! You lightly hit yourself in the head a few times, and then begin to get ready for school.

By the time you are finished showering, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed. Your mother looked you up and down with an unamused expression and a sigh left her lips. “Y/n, are you really going to school like that?” You gave your mother a nervous laugh and kissed her cheek. “Sorry mom, but I'll be late if I take any more time..!” You say, chugging the glass of water from the dining table, which you almost activated your gag reflex from doing so, thankfully your throat mercy you from it for now.

“Slow down, Y/n..! Haist..” You let out another laugh and apologize, before meeting yourself out and closing the door behind you. You drop your shoulders with a small sigh, holding your bookbag from one hand and the other hugging the three textbooks to your chest. “I better hurry, or I'll definitely be late..” You mumble under your breath, you increase your speed as you walk down the sidewalk. Eyes widening when people are already crossing the pedestrian lane from a few steps ahead.

You outright ran, if you can't catch it there's no saying you’ll be able to catch your class too! Your hair flew down your vision, making it hard to see, you blew air from your lips trying to somehow get it away from your sight. You then had to make a very risky halt, you stumble a bit but you catch your footing fortunately enough. You look back at the traffic light, only to be a bit disappointed that you were late to actually cross.

You set your attention forward towards the sidewalk across the pedestrian lane. Although, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as to why an old person is still passing across the busy road. Your mind almost did a factory reset, as you sprinted forward and gently grabbed the old man’s arm and led him over and into the safe part of the road.

That was close, you're glad you acted on instinct and possibly saved the old man’s life. “Thank you, young lady.. That was brave of you to do that.” He smiles, and you ended up sending him one of your own. “It's no problem, I couldn't just watch and not do something about it…” The old man nodded and said thank you once again, with you shaking your head saying it's completely alright.

You wipe the small sweat that formed on your forehead with the back of your hand. Patting your pockets, then waist, you jerk your head up in realization. You dropped your textbooks..! Oh no..! Turning your head back to the other side of the road, you didn't expect a familiar bluenette girl trying to wave at you. Struggling to hold the many items in her hands, a few of them — your textbooks.

“Uhm, you dropped this.. I suppose the least I could do is bring it back to you.” The girl said with a chuckle, you giggle back politely taking your textbooks from her hands. “Thank you..” You say, as the old man looks back and forth between the both of you. “How nice of her to do that.” The old man says, making the bluenette girl scratch the back of her head. "It's nothing really.. I-I’ll be going now..!” She waves to the both of you, turning her back and walking towards the school.

“Thank you again, young lady.. I’ll be on my way now as well.” The old man says, and you nod. You hold your textbooks tight against your chest, and you heave a breath. Continuing your walk to school, you're definitely late now, but it was worth being late for.

🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱

You sat down on your seat from the back after apologizing to Ms Bustier. You attempt to place your hand onto the desk before taking a seat, although your hand landed on a soft surface, making you take it away in embarrassment when you found out it was your seatmate’s hand. The redhead boy seems to have his cheeks reddened as well, and he hides his face slightly in his sketchbook down the desk.

“S-Sorry.. didn't mean to.” You say with a small smile, Nathaniel looks back at you, only replying with a nod. You set your stuff aside, finally taking a seat and trying to listen to the lesson Ms Bustier was talking about. You could easily be lost in the topic sometimes, mostly because — even if you deny it deep inside. You're not difficult to be distracted with anything else, you try to focus all the time but the chances are too small sometimes.

That's why you are obligated to ask your seatmate or classmates about the topic and if they could explain it to you again. You were sure that your classmates or friends in your hometown were probably happy when your parents announced that you were moving out. You're just difficult to handle, and pity showers all over you and that’s why they swallow their words before agreeing about explaining it to you once more.

You sort of realized that a bit too late though.. which ended up lowering your self-esteem then, you should really start to be more independent when it comes to your studies… You're certain, you'll only get nowhere if you were to continue down that path of dependending on someone.

A tap has been made on your shoulder, making you flinch and turn to your seatmate. “I- uh.. C-Class is over…” He points out softly, your eyes switches to the front seeing students leave one by one. You scream internally, as you send Nathaniel a smile. The redhead looks away momentarily at that, with a small tinted blush. “T-Thank you for telling me..! Sorry..!” You grabbed your bookbag and your textbooks, before scurrying your way down the small stairs and out of the classroom.

Y/n.. What are you doing… that thought of getting nowhere by yourself will probably be your fate at this point. You shake your head, attempting to think of something else. Slow progress is the answer.. there's still classes that you need to attend, so maybe next class will be your start?

Sigh.. you hope so.

You're finally home after a long day at school.. you could say that there's one or two things that you paid attention to today. One — being getting to class, and Two — being trying to help an old man cross the road safely. Nothing about education though, isn't that great..?

Leaving your bookbag and textbooks down to the floor next to your bed, you walk towards your desk. Sitting on your chair, and laying your head down on the surface. You blankly stare down onto the plain designs of your desk, trying to think of something to be able to focus more on your education.

What method would you use? You don't frankly have a plan also, well- you could think of one right now..! Uh- you just need time to think and then the idea will be there soon enough! You close your eyes, before opening them back, and a small groan leaves your lips after. You can't express your thoughts if you can't write it down.. your extra notebooks helped with those kinds of things well.

Now.. where is your pen, hm…

You sat back up comfortably, scanning your desk for some pen that you probably scattered around somewhere and forgot about tidying it up. Although — you suddenly caught sight of an unfamiliar looking black box. Curious, you lift it up from the corner of your desk, and see the neat type of designs it has on the top of it. Did your mom leave it here? Maybe she did, atleast she is the most likely person that you thought of doing something like this.

Either way, you might as well see what's inside.. you slowly open the small box, attempting to take a peak before it even fully opens. Suddenly — a glowing bright light flashes from the box, making you squint your eyes and move the box away from your face. Placing it down on the desk, you cover your eyes a bit before the light finally shines down.

You took another peak from in between your fingers, your vision came in eye-to-eye with a bug — looking small creature. “W-What..? Are you..?” You immediately stood up from your chair and backed away, you were confused but a bit scared. But you stayed calm, which seems to be working in your favor.

“Hi, Y/n! You have been chosen to be the beholder of the Ladybug Miraculous!” You blinked a few times at that, as the small creature continued to talk. “And I'm Tikki, your Kwami..!” She says with a high pitched and cheerful voice. But her expression changes after a few seconds, as if she's giving you time to manage your situation. “But unfortunately we don't have much time, Y/n! Paris is currently in danger with the akumanization! And they need you..!” Your mouth falls agape at that. Paris? Need you? Why? Danger? Akumanization? Huh..?

This isn't making much sense, but then you heard the loud screams of the people outside and followed by an evil sounding laughter. Your heart beats in panic, as you look towards your bedroom window. “I-I can't possibly — no.. how can I..!” You look around, and Tikki immediately knows that kind of look on your face. You're definitely scared, she floats over to the ladybug earrings and stops you before you even attempt to leave your room.

“Y/n.. calm down. I know we're asking a lot from you, but there's nobody else that can stop this besides you! You need to capture the akuma of the victim..!” Tikki said with a hint of desperation from her voice, she flew down to your hand, gently placing the earrings on your palm. “W-What do you mean..? H-How do I even do that..?” You question, looking at the earrings on your hand with bewilderment.

“Put the earrings on, it’ll grant you special powers. Say — Tikki, spots on! To make you transform into a superheroine. And you say, ‘Lucky charm!’ for your ability.” Tikki explains with a smile, you furrowed your eyebrows in further confusion. “Uhm.. are you sure it’ll work?” You asked, and Tikki nodded her head. Trusting the small creature’s words, you put on the earrings on each side of your ear.

You couldn't believe this is even happening, being a superhero is the least you expected to be in your life! How could they be sure that you won't fail at it too? Tikki waves her small hands in front of you to get your attention, which she succeeded. Gosh, you need to stop dozing off, didn't she say people need you right now? “Uh- sorry.. spots on— wait! Right, your name first—” You let out a half gasp, when the small creature suddenly descended towards you and into the earring.

You immediately transformed into a new, red and black suit. Black being the spots as a ladybug would have, a complete few on your hands presenting gloves. A signature small ladybug on the black dot to the side of your collarbone, a yoyo wrapped around your waist. Down to your feet, kinda looks like boots painted black. With red lines marking a portion of it with a unique design that sort of reminds you of pin clips. Three of both sides, layering top to bottom as a design. As the red lines draw a straight line beneath the markings from up to all the way down the bottom of your feet.

Your hair grew half length — only down in the middle, looking like a hair tail. Two red long thin fabric ties it down, and a red — half black dots to one side and a half white dots mask covers the upper part of your face. It feels weird wearing something too fit on your body, hugging your curves, every area. You grab a small mirror from your drawer, looking at yourself for a bit.

“This.. is strange.” You mumbled, not going to get a few more seconds to yourself though as you heard another scream emerging from outside. “R-Right..! I need to help people!” Opening your bedroom window, you quickly get out of your room and oh dear — you hold for dear life the moment you see the height from below, nervously hugging the walls.

“T-Tikki..! Uh- nope! I can't do this..” You close your eyes, inching yourself back to your room. “Wait.. what is this?” You grab the yoyo from around your waist, looking at it for a second. “A yoyo..? Ah.. I guess this could help me.” You slip the open string in your ring finger, holding the yoyo tight. Before letting out a breath, and walking back to your window.

“This should work, right?” You tell yourself, well- it better work or you’ll fall to your death! You can't have that, not at a time like this at least! You threw your yoyo up towards a nearby chimney, the look of surprise on your face when it actually clung around it. You hold the string tight, hovering over the windowsill, preparing yourself.

So.. Do you need to just jump down and see what happens? You slightly tug on to the string- a BIG mistake on your part, as it propelled you up the sky. “AAHH!” You screamed, waiting for the moment you hit a hard surface. Only to end up hitting another body as well, the female yells in panic, as you both stumble down the roof and into a balcony. You both close your eyes, having a split second of seeing the concrete ground of the balcony.

But you and the girl only swing back and forth, strings trapping both your bodies. And you were thankful it saved you two from meeting the concrete ground, it might've just caused you both concussion and maybe even pass out if that happened. “I-I.. oh- hello?” You blink a couple of times, meeting two ocean blue eyes staring back at you.

“Uhm.. Hi?” The awkward situation was definitely rising, and you don't even know how to untangle both of you from this yoyo. You notice she seems to have a mask too, gray and light pink colored mask and her bluenette hair is lifted and styled into two buns. She kinda reminded you of someone, but couldn't place your finger on it.

“D-Do you know h-how to get us out of this..?” She stuttered and you felt bad, she's clearly uncomfortable, and you are too, but you really have no idea how to undo this. “I'm sorry, but I don't know.. sorry for getting you into this mess. I'm new to this…” You explain with a hint of a smile to reassure her, she shakes her head and smiles back.

“No, it's alright.. I'm new too, so that's a start.” She giggled, you then switched your gaze when you heard something. A person with a black suit comes to your level of vision, sparkling an idea from you. He appears to have a mask as well, and it's not like he's the one people are running from. Could it be that he's a superhero too..? Well- worth a try, you need to get out of this mess quickly.

“Hey, you..! We need help!” You yelled, and his eyes made contact with yours. His lips formed into that of a grin, and you were second guessing yourself if you made the right choice of calling out for him. He could potentially be a villain — this is bad, you can't possibly risk this girl’s safety when it's your fault.

You try to wiggle from the strings, creating momentum, you look back at the black masked guy. And he seems to be making his way right now, making his staff as a bridge to go across the other roof. You could feel panic building, and you didn't even notice how the bluenette girl was asking you to stop moving. But when the figure comes closer, you try everything you could think of to undo those strings.

And it was only luck that you got to move your ring finger where the point of the string is. Making a slight force forward, which was enough for the yoyo to loosen as it is entitled to come back to its original position. The bluenette gasped, both of your bodies meeting the ground.

But you quickly stood from the floor and looked up, quickly swung your yoyo towards that black suited person’s ankle, luckily it latched around it making him lose balance and fall upside down. “Woah- woah! What's going on, ladies?” You furrowed your eyebrows, having a closer look at him now. Now that you think about it, he does resemble a cat. Especially with that long tail and tipped ears.

“You're not evil, are you?” You asked, making the bluenette girl beside you and the blonde blink twice at your accusation. “I'm kinda hurt, Ms– uh Bug? It's my first time on the job!” He announced with a sly voice and a formed smirk. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, as the bluenette girl blankly stared at him, seemingly unamused.

“Well, you don't seem like a threat now..” You say with a finger under your chin, squinting your eyes at him. “See? Now would you do the honor and let this innocent kitty go, purlease~?” You sigh and close your eyes momentarily, he seems to be on the good side. Mainly because you hear a lot of chaos coming at sort of a middle range. You already screwed up, why were you chosen for this.. “I'm sorry..”

You could feel movement from your yoyo’s string, and your hand slowly moving forward. You jolted, seeing the sly feline getting up close and personal with a grin plastered across his lips. “I mean- I wouldn't mind a small kiss for an apology, Cuddlebug.” He says with a flirtatious tone, you stare lightly down, his hand did hold onto the yoyo’s string as you thought. His attempts of flirtation makes you feel sort of uncomfortable, and you accidentally pull on your yoyo when you were thinking of creating distance.

Resulting in the feline falling down, you hold out your hand to try to catch him and you and the bluenette flinch when a thud has been made. “I-Is he okay?” A voice coming from behind you asked with worry, you just shake your head. You need to make sure he's alright, you hovered over the railings, and even though you were scared. You proceeded to jump off — “W-What are you, stop!” The bluenette yelled, and squinted her eyes shut, her first time being a superhero isn't going very well. What is wrong with her teammates?!

By the time you jumped down, he still seemed very much in contact with the floor, his face colliding onto the ground. There isn't blood, is he unconscious..? You ended up hurting your potential teammate, you're only guessing whoever gave you this opportunity made.. a mistake.

You crouched down, placing the palm of your hand onto the back of his shoulder. And the moment you even open your mouth, his hand grabs your wrist and brings you down with him, tackling you to the ground. You tried to fight back– but he unfortunately got the upperhand and pinned both of your wrists down on either side of your head.

“Let go of me!” You demanded, squirming beneath him. “Don’t worry, you should calm down~ Who am I to harm precious little Cuddlebug~?” Your eye twitched at that, especially wanting to get rid of that smirk off his lips. “Stop calling me that! People are in danger, this is not the time..!” You pointed out, as you turn your head to the side, seeing people running from a distance away.

The blonde cat furrowed his eyebrows in concern, you do have a point. He slowly let go of your wrists and helped you up, noticing the obvious worry in your eyes at the citizens from a distance. He brings your hand against his lips, finally enough for you to turn back to him with slightly widened eyes when you realize he kisses the back of it.

He gave you a genuine smile before apologizing. “I'm sorry, Cuddlebug, You're right, we have an entire city to save.” Your expression eases up, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Apology accepted, Mr Cat. We should probably head dow-” A half scream catches both you and the blonde’s attention. The bluenette girl jumped over the balcony, screaming at the height. You move towards the direction she’ll be falling down from, just in case. But she seems to have made it, stumbling a bit but she got her footing back.

“T-That was scary..” She laughs, fiddling with her fingers. “Yeah, I agree.. but this suit seems to grant us the durability to withstand it.” Both nodded at your small explanation, you turn to look back at the chaos and turn back at them. “Time limit is over, we need to know what's causing all of this..!” You say, running towards it and keeping your yoyo in hand, just in case you had enough build-up confidence to actually use it again along the way.

“Wait for us, Cuddlebug!” The blonde cat yelled following after you.

“W-Wait! Guys-! I-I’m not sure about this..! W-What if…” The bluenette girl sighed, and started following you down the path as well.

☂︎ ☔︎ ☂︎ ☔︎ ☂︎ ☔︎ ☂︎

Once you and your teammates were at the place causing chaos around the city. You almost turned around and just about to say screw this whole superhero thing when you saw the large metallic monster ahead. He almost looks like a toy robot come to life, now how are you going to turn that person back to normal..? Tikki says you need to capture an.. akuma? She didn't clarify what it is, how are you even supposed to do this?

You feel a hand over your shoulder, cutting you in your daze. “Hey, Cuddlebug. You alright..?” You turn to look him in the eyes, before lowering your gaze in disappointment. “W-What’s wrong..?” Even the bluenette seems to notice the atmosphere. Your teammates are relying on you, but you don't even know what to actually do to fix all of this. You're all in this together, but you feel like you're suddenly holding the role of their leader.. and if you're being completely honest, you don't want to be. You’ll just let them down.

“I.. I'm lost… how are we even supposed to defeat that villain? There has to be a way, but I have no idea what it is.” You admit in defeat, slightly hanging your head. The blonde’s eyes lit in shock. “I thought you'd probably have a plan with the way you were ready to jump into danger, Cuddlebug..” The blonde cat questioned, and you buried both of your hands against your face, not because you wanted to cry it all away. But you felt guilty about initiating this whole thing and also bringing your teammates into danger.

The three of you clearly have no idea what you're going to do. Inexperienced superheroes are probably the easiest way a villain could defeat without much effort. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you ran all the way over here, you know damn well it has nothing to do with logic. It was stupid of you, but when you heard the screaming citizens and the slowly breaking down of buildings and homes. You knew you had to do something about it somehow, not just stand away from it like a coward.

“Yeah, I know.. but I thought the citizens might need our help, and that's the only thing I went here for…” You say, still burying your face in your hands. The black masked cat felt his heart tightened and beating quite fast. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance, placing his second hand on your other shoulder. “That's very heroic for you to do, Cuddlebug. Acting on your impulse and wanting to save people, even if you were completely unsure if you had the capabilities to do it.” You lift your face a bit from your fingers, and catch the picture of the blonde’s emerald green eyes.

“I-I think that was brave of you too.. I d-didn't even know if I'd have the courage to show up here if you hadn't led me. Your show of bravery is what got me here, so.. I'm sure we’ll be able to figure it out as a team!” The bluenette cheered, before shrinking her shoulders in embarrassment by how loud she sounded. Their words spike some type of confidence within you, your chest feels light with the guilt washing away from it.

“Thank you, guys.. I appreciate that…” You say, the smile slowly coming back to your lips. There's no doubt that fate made these two your teammates, because if you're probably on your own. You would've given up and told Tikki to bring those earrings back and introduce it to a new and more capable owner than you are. You're just glad, is all.. and happy too, to have teammates like them.

Seeing the smile coloring back to your lips, made the blonde cat’s stomach swarm with butterflies. And he couldn't help himself, and hugged you tightly. You were caught off guard, a bit hesitant but you accepted the hug nonetheless. Although it was short-lived when a laser beams towards the three of you. The bluenette heroine screeched, barely dodging just in time. As the blonde cat attempted to dodge, with you in his arms, even though it worked it got both of you rolling over to the side.

And it ended up once again with the black suited cat on top of you. His smirk immediately made you want to flick him in the forehead but you resisted the urge. “This position isn't the worst kind in the world, right Cuddl—ow!” You let your yoyo bonk him in the head when it falls down and hit him on top. This causes the flirtatious cat to rub his head multiple times, enough time for you to slip away and get up on your feet.

“Are you okay? Here..” You held out your hand to the bluenette, she looked at your hand for a moment before placing hers with yours, pulling her up from the ground. She dusted herself a bit, turning back at you. “Thank you, I'm okay..” You nod your head at her confirmation, before heading your attention back to the villain. “We need to capture some type of akuma, I think.” She looks at you with confusion, and you avert your gaze with a nervous laugh. “Sorry, even I don't know what an akuma is. All I know is, we need to capture it somehow or some way.” You explained, your eyes widening and before she could reply, you grabbed her wrist and ran off.

Fortunately the black suited cat was nearby so you also grabbed his arm before he could even open his mouth to talk. Another loud noise of laser hits through the road, thankfully you three weren't there anymore. You led them slightly away from the scene for a little atleast, to come up with a plan. And though you aren't completely certain, you have an idea of what an akuma could be.

“Alright, I thought of something this time.” You say, looking back and forth at the both of them. “Spill it, Cuddlebug. This cat already has pointed ears.” He winked, you didn't really quite get his joke, but you continue on discussing your plan. “I got a split second observation of the villain, and the giant robot appears to have a shiny looking pendant that's planted in the middle of the robot’s knee.” The blonde stares at you, he definitely didn't get your point at first. But he's acting like he does.

You turn towards him, you're not about to let him be on the battlefield without knowing what to do, it could cause accidents and that's the least that you want right now. “Mr Cat, let me expla-” You were suddenly cut off mid sentence when the flirtatious feline put a finger against your lips. “You're gonna need to come up with a better nickname than that, Cuddlebug~” You sent him a light glare, he's clearly not taking this seriously. You just want nothing but get it over with quickly, before that villain causes anymore destruction to Paris.

“I should just go for it, well— if you and Cuddlebug want to stay here and think about it. Then I'll buy you both some time!” He said towards the bluenette, shrugging his shoulders before turning around and going to the battlefield with just one plan in mind and that is to fight the villain with all he's got? Is he kidding right now? You grabbed a hold of his leather tail, making him turn back to you. “Not a good idea, Kitty. Just bear with me for a second, could you do that for me..?” The masked feline blanked out for a minute, just staring at you.

A small cough then left his throat, as he turn his face away for a bit. A tinted blush covering his cheeks, he doesn't know why he's feeling like this all of a sudden. He nodded his head as a response, earning some relief within you now that he's willing to listen. “Okay, an akuma. It may not be true or it is, but I think that's where a villain gain its power from.” The bluenette girl put a finger under her chin, she seems to get it atleast. And the masked feline is also kind of connecting the dots.

“Think of it as a cherished possession of the villain, if we break it I think that's where we're able to capture the akuma. Or whatever it is, then the last bit is probably how the person will turn back to normal!” You snapped your finger with a bright smile, then you heard soft giggles coming from the masked bluenette. And a warm smile illuminating from the flirtatious cat, your head lowered a bit when he placed his hand above your head.

“Seems like Cuddlebug hit the nail for us, that smile can light up anybody's day. Although, I would prefer if it's only for—” You were obligated to change the subject and into the main topic at hand, you were slightly getting flustered and you had to stop it. “W-We know what to do righ–” Now it's your turn to get cut off, as you heard the masked bluenette’s voice. “R-Really he's right.. you were quick to know the situation than either of us.” She looks away, she's not one to be straightforward and say those things sometimes. But she figured you deserve it.

“Thank you, err–” You trailed off, you haven't really caught her name. She sort of panic, mumbling a few words to herself before finally saying her chosen name. Or should you say, her chosen heroine name. “Y-You could call me Multimouse..” She lightly stuttered with a chuckle. “Alright, thank you for saying that.. Multimouse. It really means a lot..!” The bluenette blushes in embarrassment, saying it's nothing.

“What about me, Cuddlebug! Don't you—” It was your time to shut him up with a finger against his pouty lips. “I appreciate your words too, Mr Cat. So thank you..” You lightly pat his head, before turning towards the way you three came from. “Now let's go and break that villain’s evil possession!” You ran back towards the battlefield, already hearing another shot of laser from the robot. Multimouse was about to follow up behind you, but she hesitated again. W-What if she’ll mess it up..? Although before her mind starts to overthink, she hears the masked feline heave out a breath.

“Am I falling, or did I already fall?” Is what he asked, this only made her facepalm herself at the sight of him holding his chest where his heart is, dazedly staring back to where you ran off to. “I-I’ll leave that to you, she needs us, you know!” With that, she begins to make her way to where you went to as well. Although she's right, the cat made a reply back. “Mousie, this cat just wanted advice!” He yelled with a light laugh, before following after as well.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

You move your yoyo in a circular motion repeatedly, trying to think of a better time to lounge onto the metallic robot. There’s something really unique about that pendant on his knee, it's small but it shines very bright. Which what causes your suspicion in the first place, if anything that's the first thing you’ll try to break when you get close enough that is.

“H-Hey.. thinking about a plan?” You turn to see Multimouse, replying to her question with a nod. “One of us could try to distract it.. but I'm thinking of throwing that to the side since none of us really done this before. Getting hurt is not an option..” For a second, Multimouse looked a bit panicked by what your idea was, but slowly felt relieved right after. “I could try to distract it, Cuddlebug!” Said the masked feline, holding up a grin.

“No can do, Mr Cat. There's another and more safe way to approach the—” You try to reason, but the feline seems more interested in going all in. You never doubt that he's a total cat in general with how he's getting difficult to reason with. “Aww you care about me, Cuddlebug? Don't worry, there's no such thing as a cat without fast reflexes.” He says, lifting up his bicep as if to make a point.

“Also— Cataclysm!” Now you are extra confused, even Multimouse scratches the side of her cheek looking baffled. “What is that? A power up?” You asked with curiosity, you don't quite remember Tikki saying anything about a power up, or are you just being you again? “Sort of? But don't come close, Cuddlebug! A small creature said — I can destroy anything I touch with this ability, I don't want the two of you getting near it.” He says, backing up a few steps away.

“Good thinking, how about you, Multimouse? Do you have an ability?” This changes the whole thing, using your abilities to your advantage is a huge step to the right direction. “I think so..? I remember a certain word, hm.. Multi– Multitide..? E-Eh.. M-Multi.. oh-! Multitude..!” Her ability activated, seeing her jumping rope lighten up in a bright light pink. She touches it, holding it with her two hands, before suddenly she starts shrinking.

You and the masked feline watched in surprise, seeing multiple tiny versions of Multimouse gathered looking at each other. And the original Multimouse was shaken up, looking up to the both of you. The masked feline stood back, while you were crouching down placing your knee to the ground. You lower both of your hands for the tiny Multimouses to walk over to.

“How adorable, your ability matches that of a real mouse.” You say with a close-eyed smile, you then turn a bit behind you to see the masked feline. Although to your major shock, he wasn't there anymore, and instead he's already in front of the villain attempting to challenge it with a cocky smirk. “T-That idiot feline..!” You dart your eyes around, desperate to think of a plan to turn this around.

Your luck is unbelievably low with how you only thought of a few things but nothing led up to a secured and high chance of succeeding. “This luck is against me.. wait.” You gasped, gently putting the Multimouses in one hand, and your free hand grabbed your yoyo from your waist. “Lucky charm..?” Your yoyo immediately lights up, the brightness making you accidentally drop it to the ground.

An object was created from the yoyo, the item being plastered with red and black dots all over. “Huh..? A screwdriver? What is this for..?” You look back at the villain, still seeing the feline dodge and fight back against it. If you do say so yourself, he's doing a great job surviving so far. You squint your eyes, your vision lining up with hints on plain sight.

Then suddenly.. an idea finally popped up. And you didn't waste anymore time and ran towards where the masked feline is currently fighting. “Hey, Mr Cat! Have you used your ability yet..!?” You yelled, hoping it was enough for him to hear you as you came closer and closer with your pace. His ear twitched, giving you a glance from a distance. “Yeah I did! I tried to hit the center of the object, but I ended up using my ability below the item!” He clarified, hearing a second beep from his ring.

You take a look at what the masked feline is talking about, your eyes suddenly perking up. “Perfect..! Nice job, Mr Cat!” You say, and the black suited feline’s lips lift up into a silly grin, maybe he just couldn't contain the giddiness even though what came out of your mouth was only a simple compliment. “Always at your mercy, Cuddlebug!” You catch a small wind of his words, although wanting to focus and not ruin this perfect opportunity — you gave the screwdriver to the tiny Multimouses in your one hand.

“W-What will we use this for..?” The original Multimouse questions with a hint of nervousness. “From further observation of our enemy, there's screws that become visible to us when our other teammate uses his ability.” You trail off, before continuing. “That grants us a chance to remove those screws, and possibly remove that odd looking possession in the robot’s knee!” You say, with a hint of hope.

“Since you're tiny, and you are multiplied. I'm going to need you to get into there and unscrew those screws for us. And don't worry, I'll do my best to get you in there safely. Sounds good?” You smile softly, wanting to provide your teammate some reassurance before you could send her to the mission. You could see the hesitation on the original Multimouse’s face, but she quickly shook her head and nodded with new found confidence.

“Great, let's try our best.” You spare a short glance at the masked feline to see how he's holding up, only to see the evident bewilderment in his face. You turn back your attention to the mini Multimouses in your hand, there has to be a way to secure them before you go ahead and decide it's time to meet the villain face to face. Your hand is definitely not secured enough for them, though. You look down at your yoyo, holding it under your armpit and start twisting it to see if it’ll magically unlock or something. And — it failed, it did not unlock whatsoever. You sigh, pressing the top of the yoyo and to your initial surprise. It opened, it was all blank white inside it seems. Either way, you think it's safe enough for the Multimouses to go through for the time being.

The black suited feline keeps looking down to his ring, his only guess is his power is running out, and who knows if it’ll change him back forcefully after the five bars on his ring runs out. He doesn't want to stay around to find out though, how risky that would be. And the minute he even decided to go back to a safe place, just in case his theory was right. You suddenly came into the picture, running at full speed towards the large metallic robot.

The slits in the masked feline’s pupils turned even smaller. What are you thinking..?! He definitely doesn't want to stand here and make sense of your action, he needs to get to you now! “C-Cuddlebug! I don't think that's—” He was about to go ahead and lift himself up with his staff to have a better chance of catching up to you. But he suddenly stood still, inkling emerald eyes watching your every move.

He glances at how precise your movement is, repeatedly motioning your yoyo in a circle with undefeatable determination. And as your eyes caught the perfect time to tackle said opportunity, you did so with no mercy. You swung your yoyo around the robot’s leg, gulping down your remaining bits of fear as you managed to stick yourself to the sides of the metal. Holding onto your yoyo’s strings tightly, as your hand catches a grip of the small opened area that the feline earlier destroyed.

You undo your yoyo, making it come back to your hand, holding it tight. You tap once again on the base of your yoyo, making it open up and reveal the Multimouses that's looking up at you. You gave them a warm smile, before letting them walk out of your yoyo on their own once they feel ready. And one by one, they left the dimension of your yoyo and into the metal storage of the robot. You hand them the screwdriver, and it almost fell out of your hand when the robot stomped his foot in terms of wanting you out of that specific area.

The Multimouses held the black spotted red screwdriver and in sync nodded their heads. You gave them a small wave, before unfortunately losing your level of traction against the metal, earning a yelp from your throat as you fell down. You forgot your yoyo’s weren't supporting your position anymore, with due panic — you did try to shoot your yoyo back to anywhere it could be wrapped around to. But the timing seems too late, and you then land into an unfamiliar type of softness. Only to realize that the knowing masked feline has you caught up in his arms, and just like earlier. You were welcome to by a sly smirk on his lips.

“Didn't know falling could be this, purrfect~!” There's really a lot of questionable things with your feline teammate, you only guess you are going to be dealing with that for as long as you survive as a superheroine. You brush his kitty puns aside, replying back with a thank you, he did save you after all. “Thanks, Mr Cat. I won't doubt those reflexes anymore.” You lightly laugh, ready to be put down and stand on your own again.

A beep has been made from your earring, you place a finger on top of it. Well, that doesn't sound very positive, a bit concerning. You hear another beep, and it seems like the feline heard it too. “Two bars, I think that's a sign I don't have much time left, Cuddlebug.” He says, peeking a bit at his ring to confirm the charges. “I think so too, that's not a good sign.” Seeing your worried look, he couldn't fight a chuckle. “Adorable.. and you got three dots left, Cuddlebug.” He says, looking at your beeping earring. You still wonder why this masked feline isn't setting you to the ground yet, this is not a time for chit-chatting that's for sure.

“O-Oh.. then hopefully Multimouse—” A laser beam strikes in an angled spot, as you and the masked feline caught sight of the robot’s shiny pendant drops from quite a height. The villain expresses anger, whoever is the victim in there, you could only thank the heavens as it has very sloppy movements. The pendant drops to the ground, making it break in the process. You could only feel your eyes perk up in impending happiness. Was that the akuma Tikki was talking about?

You immediately tapped the feline's collarbone in sign to drop you down. Although he only gave you a lopsided grin, and started running towards it with you still in his arms. “I could take you there, Cuddlebug.” He says, earning a soft sigh from your lips. “What a stubborn feline..” You mumble under your breath, the masked feline’s ear twitched hearing your voice clearly. Which dragged his mouth to let out another chuckle.

As you two roughly made it to the broken item, a purple mixture of black colored butterfly flew out of it. Is that the akuma..? You lift up your yoyo, looking at it, only one way to find out. You clearly don't know how to catch it or if there's anything you need to say for the akuma to be captured. But there is one thing you know, you could trap it in the dimension of your yoyo. At least for now, since you have no idea.

You tapped your yoyo, as it opened up smoothly. “Is that the akuma you're talking about, Cuddlebug?” You gave him a glance, before shrugging your shoulders. “I'm certain it is, even if it's not. I'm not taking any chances.” You shot your attention back to the flying butterfly, steadying your heartbeat. Chances are you could still catch it, you closed your eyes. Hearing a few people's cries, some were asking if any of them were okay, some were asking with a shake in their voices of who those masked people were in a suit. Some.. with desperation in their voices.

You can't let this slide, not in this situation. With that, you let your instincts guide you in this level of accuracy. Targeting your yoyo at the high level of distances the butterfly has gained. It was only a miracle that you succeed in one thing, and you’ll not have it any other way. “Caught it..!” A bright smile forms on your slightly trembling lips. A clumsy thud has been made from a few distance away, you turn towards it. Seeing Multimouse back to her original form, she quickly made her way towards both you and the masked feline.

“W-We did it..?” A small smile elevated from the bluenette’s face. As she softly grabs your hand, returning back the screwdriver from you. “Seems like we did, I'm glad..” You say with a lightened expression, though the blonde feline looked at his ring again, and also a beeping sound emerges from the masked bluenette's necklace. “You should go, Mr Cat.. You're running out of charges, you also Multimouse.” The girl infront of you blink rapidly for a second.

“If you say so, Cuddlebug. I’ll see you when I claw by..!” You spare him a small giggle, this masked feline and his puns. Well, it's not all terrible, which is good. He gestures a salute as a farewell, before he stops in the middle and looks back with a hesitant laugh as if he just realized something.

“Uh- Cuddlebug.. didn't you say something about turning everything back? Or is it just the victim..?” The masked feline pointed at the kneeling robot from behind you.

You blinked twice.

Multimouse blinked as well.

The three of you are looking at each other.

But mostly the attention is on your form.

You gave them a nervous laugh..

“Uhm.. about that.”

Subsequent Chapters | 02 | 03 | 04 | Loading...

[joelsrose]

Feels Right (Part 2)

warninnggssss omg stepdad!joel smut - this is not everyones cup of tea so pls pls be warned also as always 18+ for smut, otherwise to the of age freaks pls enjoyy hehhehe

TW: pls pls pls be warned !!!! this is dirty as fuck !!! stepdad!Joel | peepaw-coded filth | age gap (legal but still unwell) | power imbalance | gaslighting (loving) |manipulation (oop)| face-riding | oral - female receiving | daddy kink (like a huge one) | infidelity | overstim...

Part 1 here

You woke in your childhood bed with the morning light slanting through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room like it hadn’t witnessed sin just hours before, like everything was still innocent and untouched—but the moment your thighs shifted beneath the sheets, the truth came flooding back, thick and hot and humiliating in the most delicious way. The slickness clinging to your skin, the soaked-through panties that had dried against you uncomfortably, the faint ache between your legs—it wasn’t a dream.

Joel had been there. He’d sat at the foot of your bed, legs spread, hands clasped between them like he was just resting after a long day, but there had been nothing casual about the way he looked at you, nothing accidental in the way his voice dropped low and coaxing, rough as gravel and honeyed with want. He hadn’t stumbled into anything, hadn’t walked in by mistake or tried to back out—no, he’d stayed, eyes dark and heavy, and whispered things that made your body move before your brain could catch up. “Go on, sweetheart,” he’d said, voice all soft encouragement and something unspoken underneath, “Don’t gotta be shy. Not with me. Show me how you do it when you think no one’s listenin’.”

And God help you, you had.

Your hand had slipped between your thighs with a trembling boldness, fingers slicking through your folds as Joel watched, never blinking, never flinching, like he’d been waiting his whole life to see you like that—open, needy, and doing exactly what he told you to. And when you’d come—legs shaking, breath caught in your throat, your stepfather murmuring “that’s it, that’s my girl” like it meant something—you hadn’t even thought to be ashamed.

You wanted him to see. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted more.

And now, in the stillness of morning, wrapped in the scent of your own arousal and the ghost of his voice in your ear, you knew exactly what had happened—and worse, you knew it wasn’t the end.

You checked your phone with trembling fingers, the screen lighting up with a simple message from your mother—“Gone to the shops. Back soon x”

You padded down the stairs slowly, barefoot and quiet, every creak of the wood beneath your feet sounding deafening in the silence. You didn’t know what you were hoping for—maybe that he’d gone with her like he always did, like he should’ve, and this whole thing could stay where it belonged, suspended in the fog of last night. You could pretend he hadn’t watched you touch yourself in the bed where you used to fall asleep clutching stuffed animals, pretend he hadn’t sat there in the shadows with his big hands gripping the edge of the mattress like he was fighting off a goddamn primal urge, coaxing you through it like a man on the edge of something permanent and wrong.

But the minute you reached the bottom of the stairs, you knew.

You rounded the corner cautiously, the hem of your cotton shorts brushing against your thighs, heart thudding like a secret against your ribs, and there he was—Joel—sitting on the edge of the worn leather couch like nothing had happened, one ankle crossed over the other, newspaper draped casually across his lap, a half-drunk mug of coffee in his hand, steam curling lazily into the morning air. The television was on, low and distant, casting muted flashes of color across the lines of his face, but he wasn’t watching it—not really. He was still, thoughtful, his eyes scanning the page with that quiet, deliberate focus you’d always associated with him, like the world couldn’t rush him if it tried.

You were about to retreat, feet moving in silent panic, the urge to flee crawling up your spine like something instinctual and animal—because how the hell were you supposed to look him in the eye after what you’d done, after what he’d said, after the way your body had arched for him like it was his to command? But before you could slip away, his voice rang out, smooth and low, laced with something unreadable.

“Good mornin’,” he said, not lifting his head, just glancing up at you from over the rim of his glasses with those tired, dark eyes that always saw more than they should, always made you feel like you were stripped bare even when fully clothed. He took a slow sip of his coffee, never breaking eye contact, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly as he swallowed and set the mug down on the side table with a soft clink, the sound delicate and final, like punctuation to a thought he hadn’t said out loud.

Your breath caught, caught hard, because there was nothing casual in the way he looked at you—not with that slow, lingering gaze that flicked down to your bare legs and then back up again, nothing rushed, nothing hidden. He didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He just watched, like he was waiting to see what you’d do now, standing in front of him in your little top and sleep-rumpled hair, trembling under the weight of everything that had passed between you in the dark.

And all you could do was stare back, throat dry, knees unsteady, wondering how the hell you were supposed to survive being in the same room with him—when every part of your body remembered what it felt like to come apart just from the sound of his voice.

You stood there frozen in the doorway, your fingers curling around the hem of your shirt like it might anchor you, like it could hide the fact that your entire body was thrumming with something hot and guilty and unspeakably alive. “Hi—good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too light, a little too breathy. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, cheeks warm, eyes flicking anywhere but his—until they landed on his coffee mug, the newspaper, the soft flicker of the TV, the utterly normalcy of it all, which only made the heat in your belly twist harder.

“I thought you went to the shops,” you said, quieter now, like maybe if you kept your voice soft enough, he wouldn’t hear the way your heart was pounding, wouldn’t notice the nervous tremble in your fingers or the shameful press of your thighs beneath your cotton shorts. Your words hovered in the space between you, light as dust, but the weight of them was unbearable, full of everything unspoken—you shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t want you, we shouldn’t have crossed that line, but we did, didn’t we?

Joel’s eyes never left you. He leaned back slowly against the couch, the leather groaning under his weight, one arm draping over the backrest like he had all the time in the world, like he knew exactly what you were thinking and was content to let you squirm in the silence. His glasses slid a little lower down the bridge of his nose, and he looked at you over the rim with that same unreadable gaze, calm and steady and devastatingly male.

“Didn’t feel like goin’,” he said finally, voice low and warm, rough like gravel softened by honey. “Figured your mama’d be fine on her own.”

And the way he said it—casual, easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world—only made your stomach drop, because it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this morning was.

“Christ, darlin’,” he murmured, setting his mug aside with a quiet clink that felt far too loud in the stillness between you, his voice cutting through the room with that deep, familiar drawl that always felt like it came from somewhere lower than his chest, like it was carved out of something older, heavier, more dangerous. He tilted his head just enough to look at you fully, brows drawn slightly in concern—or maybe curiosity—his gaze sweeping over you in that slow, deliberate way of his, the kind that always made your skin heat and your breath catch even when he didn’t say a word. “You’re lookin’ at me like you’re scared of me.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening as you shifted in place, arms crossed like a weak shield, but your voice—though soft—held no hesitation. “I’m not scared,” you murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and steady, even if your pulse was doing somersaults under your skin. And it was true—you weren’t scared. You were wired, rattling with nerves and guilt and something molten that pooled low in your belly, but you weren’t afraid. Not of him.

Joel watched you for a moment longer, something unreadable flashing behind those tired eyes of his, and then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders melting just a fraction. “Good,” he said, and the word came out more like a rumble, warm and rough like it had to scrape its way out of him. He folded the newspaper in half with careful fingers, set it down beside him, and leaned back in the couch like he owned the whole room, legs spread just slightly, one hand resting across his thigh, the other reaching out—beckoning, calling, commanding—with the faintest curl of his fingers.

“C’mere.”

Simple. Low. Quiet. And yet it landed like a thunderclap in your chest.

Your breath stuttered, and for a second, you didn’t move—not because you were unsure, but because you could feel the weight of the moment shift, like the floor had tilted beneath you.

He noticed your hesitation, of course he did—he noticed everything—and like he always did, Joel leaned forward with the kind of slow, deliberate ease that made the room feel smaller, hotter, heavier with something unspoken, his elbows resting on his knees as his voice dipped into that low, husky register that always managed to melt your spine. “Come on, babygirl,” he hummed, the nickname thick with heat and affection, a gentle tease soaked in sin, his mouth curling just slightly as he let the words stretch slow and lazy in his throat, “don’t make me beg.”

And God, how did he say things like that—so casual, so sweet, so devastating—like he didn’t know what it did to you, like he didn’t already have you falling apart with just a look?

You walked toward him then, your legs stiff and uncertain, your breath shallow, like every step toward that couch was pulling you deeper into some dream you weren’t sure how to wake from. You felt like a deer stumbling through tall grass—skittish, wide-eyed, clumsy in your own skin—and it wasn’t who you were. You weren’t some blushing, nervous little thing who forgot how to speak around men, but around Joel, everything in your brain went soft and slow, turned to syrup and static, like nothing else mattered except the space between you and the heat in his eyes.

When you finally reached him and stopped, unsure and awkward with your arms crossed protectively in front of your chest, Joel looked up at you like he was taking in a sunrise—like he had all the time in the world to just sit there and look at you—and you felt your breath catch all over again. His face, weathered and beautiful, every line carved with time and experience, his deep brown eyes impossibly warm, a shade that always made your knees weak, and that beard, thick and soft and shadowing the hard line of his jaw—he was so handsome it hurt. And then his hands, those big, capable hands, reached for you like he had a right to, settling on your hips with a quiet sort of confidence, thumbs rubbing slow, absent circles through the fabric of your shorts, grounding you, claiming you, calming you—and you watched them, stared like you were hypnotized, lips parting, brain empty.

“How’d you sleep?” he murmured, and his voice wasn’t teasing now, just gentle, intimate, the words curling against your skin like a blanket fresh from the dryer.

And just like that, the girl who had mouthed off her whole life, who’d never backed down from anything, was reduced to a blushing, bashful mess beneath the weight of his gaze. You couldn’t even meet his eyes. Your cheeks burned, your lashes fluttered, and something soft and shaky caught in your throat, because somehow this man—your mother’s husband, for God’s sake—had undone you completely.

Joel tilted his head then, smiling like he knew, like he loved it, that slow, crooked smile full of patience and quiet promise, and you swore the room spun just a little.

“You’re real pretty when you’re shy,” he murmured, almost to himself, almost like it was a secret meant for no one but the space between your bodies.

“You… you can’t say that,” you murmured, the words slipping from your mouth in a whisper so soft it felt like they barely existed, your eyes still cast down, lashes lowered as if that might soften the weight of everything hanging in the space between you. Your voice was tight, caught somewhere between protest and plea, the heat in your cheeks blooming all over again as his hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs brushing in slow, easy circles like he hadn’t just shattered the fragile line between right and wrong with a single sentence.

Joel tilted his head, one brow lifting, his smile widening just a little—amused, indulgent, unbothered. “Can’t say what?” he said, voice smooth and rich, a teasing hum that curled down your spine. “That my stepdaughter’s pretty? Huh? ’Cause it’s just the truth, sugar. Don’t think there’s a law against honesty.”

The word—stepdaughter—hit you like a jolt, echoing in your chest, reverberating somewhere low in your gut, shame and arousal tangling so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. It felt wrong, it should’ve felt wrong, but the way he said it—so casual, so easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to call you that and still hold you like this, like he wanted to say it while his hands were on your body—made your breath stutter all over again.

You shifted on your feet, blinking hard, your voice barely steady when you asked, “Did… did mom say anything?” You still couldn’t look at him, not with the way your heart was pounding and your skin was buzzing, not with his hands still warm and heavy on your waist. “I mean—when you went back to your room. After.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, the sound rough and honeyed, and your stomach did a slow flip, because that sound was always dangerous—soft and lazy, like he knew something you didn’t. “Your mama?” he said, drawing the word out with a shake of his head, “She was out cold, sweetheart. Think she drank too much wine. Again.”

He laughed quietly to himself like it wasn’t anything unusual, like it was just another evening in a long stretch of a dull domestic life—and maybe for him it was. Maybe last night hadn’t been a life-altering moment of madness, maybe it had just been inevitable.

You nodded, slow and uncertain, your lips parting just slightly like you wanted to say more but didn’t trust your voice, didn’t trust yourself not to crack under the weight of it all—and that’s when Joel moved, gentle and deliberate, reaching for your wrist with one of those big, weathered hands that always made you feel too small, too soft, too young. He lifted your arm with a tenderness that made your breath hitch, and without breaking eye contact—not even for a second—he pressed his mouth to the inside of your wrist, right over the place where your pulse throbbed wild and frantic beneath your skin. His lips were warm, slow, deliberate, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as if he needed you to feel it everywhere, needed you to remember the way it felt to be touched there, kissed like that, seen like this.

“What I wanna know,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and molten, seeping into you like heat through the floorboards, “is if you felt good last night. Hmm?” He didn’t ask like a man seeking validation. He asked like someone already sure of the answer, just wanting to hear you say it—needing to hear you admit it, out loud, right here in the daylight.

You swallowed thickly and nodded again, barely breathing, your voice trembling on a single word. “Yeah.”

And that was all he needed.

He smiled then—slow and crooked, like it pleased him more than he wanted to admit—and he hummed, the sound a deep, contented vibration from the back of his throat that made your knees want to give. “Good,” he said, soft and approving, thumb brushing once more across the inside of your wrist before letting go, like he’d branded you there, like the ghost of his mouth would never really leave.

He leaned back just slightly, eyes dragging over you again, darker now, thoughtful. “Now…” he drawled, voice thoughtful, almost lazy, like he was working something out in real time, “I know you can make yourself feel good, babygirl. Real good. But that ain’t what I’m wonderin’ anymore.”

You blinked, heart thudding, every nerve suddenly alive.

Joel tilted his head, that half-smile still on his lips, and added, “What I’m wonderin’ now is… do you want me to make you feel even better?”

And there it was—laid out plain, low, and filthy in that Southern murmur of his, not a question but a promise, the kind that made your thighs press together instinctively, your breath falter, your whole body buzz with the thrill of being wanted by a man who shouldn’t, who knew better, and didn’t give a damn.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as cotton, eyes wide and lips parted, voice barely more than a breath when you whispered, “How?”—a question so innocent it betrayed the wildfire already curling low in your belly. “I mean… how would you do that?” you added, stumbling through the words, not out of fear but out of need, the kind that made you dizzy and warm all over, the kind that left no room for shame.

Joel chuckled low, that gravel-and-honey sound curling around your spine, rich with amusement but soft with affection, and the way he looked at you—like you were the sweetest little thing he’d ever laid eyes on—only made the heat behind your ribs burn hotter. “You sound real sweet when you ask things like that,” he said, voice slow and fond, as if he were savoring every syllable you gave him. “But the answer’s easy, sugar… whatever you want. However you want it. However you need it.”

Your gaze dropped instinctively, almost helplessly, flicking down to where his jeans stretched tight across his thighs, to the outline pressing stubbornly against the denim, thick and heavy even in rest, and your breath caught in your chest as your mouth went dry for a whole other reason. You hadn’t meant to look—but your body was ahead of you, craving, already remembering the low rumble of his voice last night and imagining what it would feel like to have him inside you, really inside you.

He noticed, of course he did. Joel’s brows lifted, his mouth twitching in amusement like he could see every filthy thought flickering behind your eyes. “Not yet, darlin’,” he murmured, shaking his head just a little, and there was something dangerous in the way he said it—like a warning wrapped in velvet. “You ain’t ready for that. Gotta get you loosened up first. Gotta work you open nice and slow, stretch you out so you can take all of me. Otherwise…” he trailed off, letting the implication hang heavy between you, smirking slightly as he tilted his head, “well, let’s just say I don’t wanna hurt my best girl.”

And all you could do was blink, dazed, pulse fluttering wildly in your neck, not even embarrassed anymore, just overwhelmed by the sheer weight of want sitting thick in the air around you. “Oh,” you breathed, soft and stunned, your legs trembling where you stood.

Joel reached up then, one hand brushing your hip again, the other sliding lazily down your arm, fingertips ghosting along your skin as he looked up at you like he was already picturing it—already planning it. “How ‘bout my mouth, huh?” he said, almost a whisper, a question laced in promise, in filth, in reverence. “Let me get you ready with my tongue. Open you up real gentle. Make a mess of you before I even fuckin’ touch anything else.”

You bit your lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh like it might ground you, like it could keep you from making another terrible, beautiful decision—but Joel’s hand was already sliding lower, fingers curving possessively over the swell of your ass, kneading with slow, deliberate pressure, not like a man in a hurry, but like someone savoring something earned, something he’d been waiting for. His grip wasn’t greedy—it was intimate, reverent, the pads of his fingers pressing into you like he was memorizing every curve, every soft place that belonged to him now, at least in this moment.

“But my mom,” you whispered, breath catching at the edge of panic, but not quite falling into it, not with his hand still on you like that. “She’ll be back soon.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. He just tilted his head with that low, amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth—like he knew better than you did, like he’d already planned this out in his mind a hundred times. And then, somehow—like it was the easiest thing in the world—he coaxed you into his lap, strong hands guiding you effortlessly until you were straddling his thighs, thighs thick and warm beneath you, denim rough against your bare legs, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, dark and steady and heavy with intent.

Then his mouth was on your neck, hot and damp and devastating, lips dragging open kisses along your skin as the rough stubble of his jaw scraped you raw in the most delicious way, each slow kiss branding you like he was marking you for later, like he wanted your skin to remember his mouth long after he was gone. His tongue flicked over your pulse, and you swore he groaned low in his chest when he felt how fast it was fluttering.

“You know your mama takes forever shoppin’,” he murmured against your throat, voice rough and wicked and so sure of himself it made your stomach flip, his hands moving at the same pace as his words, guiding your hips into a slow, lazy grind over the bulge in his jeans. “I could make you cum at least three times ‘fore she even makes it outta the wine aisle.”

You gasped, not just at the filth of his words, but at the way he said them—like he wasn’t teasing, like it was just fact, like he’d already seen it in his head: you falling apart in his lap, soaked and ruined, breathless and begging, all while your mother compared pinot noir prices three suburbs away.

And you didn’t even argue—couldn’t, really—because with the way his mouth was dragging down your neck and his hands were tightening on your waist, every thought you had was unraveling too fast to hold on to.

And then his mouth was on yours—sinful, hot, wet—and just like that, the world narrowed to the searing press of lips and the slow, molten slide of his tongue against yours, and you forgot everything.

You forgot that this was Joel—your mother’s husband, the man who made coffee every morning with his sleeves rolled up and kissed her cheek with that same mouth now devouring yours like he was starving. You forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, that you weren’t supposed to want it, because when he kissed you like that, like he already knew every secret your mouth had ever held, like his tongue had been made to move with yours, slow and deep and devastatingly sure, there was no room left in your mind for guilt.

He kissed you like he’d waited years for it. Like he’d dreamed of it in silence, in secret, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste a second. His hand cradled the back of your neck, fingers buried in your hair as he tilted your head the way he wanted, needed, guiding your mouth against his with a tenderness that bordered on desperation. And it was hot, not in a rushed, clumsy way, but in the kind of way that made your toes curl, your thighs clench, the kind of kiss that made your whole body ache with the slow realization that no one had ever kissed you like this—like they wanted to memorize you, ruin you, keep you.

You whimpered into him, soft and helpless, clutching at the collar of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, your fingers curling into the fabric, bunching it in your fists as his mouth moved against yours with maddening slowness.

Joel groaned, deep in his chest, like your little sounds physically affected him, like your pleasure was a trigger inside him. “Goddamn, I love it when you make those sounds for me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and reverent, honeyed and rough, that Southern lilt curling around each word like a caress. “Make me crazy, darlin’. Could kiss you forever.”

And the way he said it—kiss you forever—didn’t sound like a line or a promise or a plea. It sounded like a truth he’d just uncovered, and you believed him. God help you, you believed him.

“All right,” he murmured, finally pulling back, and the loss of his mouth on yours felt like the world shifting on its axis—sudden, dizzying, wrong. You blinked up at him, dazed and breathless, your eyes wide and glassy, lips kiss-bruised and swollen, your chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps like you’d just surfaced from somewhere deep and dangerous, and Joel looked at you like he was proud of that—like he liked seeing you like this, pliant and overwhelmed and barely hanging on.

“Gotta taste you, baby,” he said next, voice thick with hunger and something darker underneath—something that didn’t ask, didn’t beg, just declared, as if it had already been decided, already done. His eyes didn’t leave yours, didn’t flicker or waver, but they darkened right in front of you, going heavy and low like smoke curling under a locked door, like you could see the shift in him—the descent, the change from tender to possessive—as if that kiss had stripped away the last layer of patience he’d been clinging to.

And then, without loosening his grip on your hips, hands still holding you steady in his lap, he leaned in, voice dropping to a gravel-soft whisper as he said, “Want you to sit on my fuckin’ face.”

It hit you like a blow—sharp, hot, filthy—and your breath hitched so fast you nearly choked on it, your thighs tightening around his as your body tried to comprehend just how badly he meant it. His gaze dragged slowly down your body, then back up, and when he met your eyes again, there was nothing sweet left in him. Just need—that dangerous, grown-man kind, the kind that didn't plead, didn't play fair, just took.

“Need you up there, sugar,” he rasped, voice like honey poured over gravel, his thumbs stroking your skin like a pacifying gesture, though the look in his eyes was anything but soft. “Let me get my mouth on that pretty little pussy ‘til you’re cryin’ for me. Want you to look down and see me starin’ up at you while you fall apart, just like last night—but this time, with my fuckin’ tongue in you.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” he added, voice soft now, coaxing, hands slipping under your shirt, warm and sure and possessive. “Then be a good girl and let me taste what’s mine.”

You were aching—truly, undeniably aching now—soaked through and dizzy, your breath caught somewhere between embarrassment and anticipation, your body already betraying you long before you could find the words. The fresh pair of panties you'd slid on after your shower that morning, cotton-soft and meant to make you feel clean and normal again, were already damp, ruined, clinging to you in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much you'd let him unravel you with nothing but his mouth and a few dangerous words. You shifted in his lap, thighs tightening, trying to will away the throb between your legs, but it was useless—he felt it, and he knew.

Joel’s gaze never left yours. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, steady and anchoring, and then he cocked his head slightly, eyes soft but sharp—like he was studying you, reading every flicker across your face. “You ever sat on a man’s face before?” he asked, low and rough, but somehow tender, like the question wasn’t filthy at all, just curious, almost concerned, like he needed to know before he went further.

Your lips parted, shame blooming hot across your cheeks, and you shook your head slightly before you could stop yourself, stammering, “I—I’ve never…”

Joel’s expression didn’t shift into surprise, didn’t turn mocking. Instead, it softened, deepened—something proud flickering in his eyes as his thumb brushed across your hipbone in a slow, grounding motion. “That’s okay, baby,” he murmured, and the way he said it—low and sweet and just a little too warm—made your whole chest tighten. “Let daddy be the first.”

He said it like a promise. Like a corruption.

“You don’t gotta be shy with me, sweetheart,” he added, his voice dipping into something darker, older, coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a warm blanket and made you forget what was right. “I’ll teach you how good it can feel. I’ll show you real slow, take my time with you, show you how much I like it when a pretty little thing like you gets all messy and shakes on my tongue.”

You gasped at that—soft and instinctive—and he smiled, soft, pleased, like he’d just unlocked something, like every part of this was unfolding exactly how he wanted. His hands slid down to cup the backs of your thighs, squeezing gently, guiding, encouraging—like it wasn’t wrong, like he was doing you a favor.

“That’s it,” he whispered, “Don’t worry about a thing. You just sit that sweet pussy on my mouth and let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you breathed, the word tumbling from your lips before your mind had time to catch up.

“Good girl,” Joel hummed, low and satisfied, the praise curling around your spine like a hot hand as he leaned in and reached for the hem of your t-shirt, fingers swift and sure, tugging it up and over your head in one smooth motion before you could so much as blink. The cotton landed on the floor with a whisper, forgotten, and suddenly you were bare-chested in his lap, skin flushed, breath caught, and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care that your mother could be pulling into the driveway at this very second, keys jangling in one hand, a shopping bag in the other. You didn’t care that the house was rigged with security cameras that Joel himself had installed—wired into every corner, including the living room where you now straddled him half-naked, soaking through your panties and trembling beneath his gaze. You didn’t care that this man, this older, worn, married-to-your-mother man, had his big hands sliding up your sides like he owned you.

All you knew was the heat of his palms as they cupped your breasts—firm and hungry, calloused thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked under his touch, until you arched into him with a gasp you couldn’t control.

Joel groaned, deep and filthy, the sound scraping up from his chest like he’d been holding it in for years. His fingers dug in as he kneaded your tits, not delicate or unsure but possessive, like he had every right to touch you like this, like this wasn’t something borrowed but something that had always been his.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself, dark eyes flicking between your breasts like he couldn’t decide which he loved more. And then, with a low laugh that chilled and scorched you all at once, he added, “These’re a hell of a lot prettier than your mama’s.”

Your breath caught—scandalized, wrecked—and you moaned without meaning to, thighs tightening around his hips as the line between shame and arousal blurred until it didn’t exist at all.

His mouth descended then—hot and open, hungry—and he kissed and nipped at your chest with a desperation that made your head spin, his tongue swirling around your nipple before pulling it between his teeth with a low growl. You whimpered, loud and breathless, clutching at his shoulders, and he pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin, “You moan real sweet when I suck on ‘em like that. Gonna make it my job to hear that every damn morning.”

And as wrong as it was, with your chest heaving and his mouth all over you, your stepfather’s hands gripping you like he’d never let go—you wanted that too.

“So pretty and perky for me,” Joel murmured, lips dragging over the curve of your breast as he spoke, the words half-swallowed against your skin, low and reverent and possessive, like he was speaking straight to them—not you—like your tits were something sacred that belonged to him now. His tongue flicked lazily over your nipple, then again, and the groan that rumbled from his chest was filthy, like it pained him to stop. “So soft, baby… fuckin’ perfect.” His voice dipped lower, barely a breath now, dark and gravel-thick with hunger. “Bet your mama never looked like this when she was your age. Bet she never tasted this sweet.”

You whimpered, back arching, your body moving on instinct—pushing forward into his mouth, into his teeth, like your skin was begging for him, like every inch of you had been waiting for this exact moment without ever knowing it.

But just when you thought you’d melt entirely into him, Joel pulled back with maddening calm, his hands sliding down your sides like he was taking his time, like he was admiring his own work. Then he patted your thigh once, firm and final. “Stand up, babygirl,” he said, leaning back slowly against the sofa, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest, the other trailing down to the curve of his thigh. “Take all of that off. Want you bare.” His gaze roamed over your flushed chest, the curve of your waist, the trembling of your thighs like he was etching you into memory, like you were a painting come to life—and his to strip.

You stood slowly, nerves crackling under your skin like fire, every movement shy but magnetic, compelled by the way he looked at you—not like a girl, not like his wife’s daughter, but like a woman he was about to consume. The cotton shorts slid down your legs, your ruined panties following, and you stepped out of them with shaking hands, now completely naked in the middle of the living room—the one where you’d opened Christmas presents, where your mom hosted wine nights, where Joel installed the goddamn security system that might’ve been watching you both right now—and yet… all you could feel was heat.

Joel didn’t move. Just leaned back further, legs spread, jaw tight, and eyes burning.

It was dizzying, the power imbalance—him fully clothed in denim and flannel, the scent of coffee still lingering on his skin, and you, butt-naked in the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, every inch of your skin exposed and wanting.

“You look like a fuckin’ dream,” he said, voice rough with restraint, dark with something filthy and low. “My sweet little girl. All grown up. Standin’ there like you were made for me.”

And he said it like he believed it. Like this—you, bare and blushing, in your childhood home—was always how it was meant to end.

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, voice soft and uncertain, the question slipping out like a confession you hadn’t meant to speak aloud, a fragile thing cradled in trembling breath. You stood there—completely bare, skin warm and pink in the morning light, chest rising and falling with every shaky inhale—and for a moment, something inside you tightened, afraid of what he might say, of how quiet the room suddenly felt with those four little words hanging between you.

Joel looked up at you slowly, his gaze traveling the length of your body with something close to awe—not just lust, not just hunger, but a deep, bone-deep reverence, like you were something holy and unrepeatable, like you were a secret he’d been trusted with. .

“Baby,” he said, shaking his head slightly, that crooked, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “pretty don’t even come close.”

Joel extended his hand toward you, slow and steady like he was asking for something sacred, not sinful, palm up and waiting, and without thinking—without questioning—you placed yours into it. Yours looked so much smaller cradled in his, delicate and trembling against the calloused strength of his fingers, and he gave it the gentlest squeeze before tugging you softly toward him, guiding you like he had all the time in the world.

“C’mere, babygirl,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing, that dangerous mix of comfort and command dripping from every syllable. “Let me show you how this’s done.”

You let him pull you closer, straddling his lap again—but this time, he was leaning back on the sofa, one arm braced along the cushions, the other slipping down to your hips, guiding, positioning, his touch warm and steady as he helped you move. You were awkward at first, hesitant, unsure of where your knees should go, how your legs should spread, how close you were supposed to get—but Joel didn’t laugh, didn’t tease, just murmured soft encouragements under his breath like he loved that you needed help, like he wanted to teach you, shape you.

“Just like that, honey… there you go. Ain’t gotta be nervous,” he whispered, his hand sliding from your thigh to your lower back, pressing lightly to arch you just so. “You’re doin’ perfect. Fuck, look at you—sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

And then suddenly—God, somehow—you were hovering over his face, thighs shaking as they spread wider, your bare heat so close to his mouth you could feel his breath ghosting over you, warm and reverent, and your whole body lit up like a live wire. You couldn’t look down.

Joel tilted his head back, eyes locked on your pussy like it was the fucking holy grail, mouth parted slightly like he was about to start praying. His grip on your hips tightened, grounding you in place, and then he groaned—deep, guttural, like the scent of you hit him all at once and knocked the wind out of him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he rasped, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he needed to recover from it. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet. Like you were made to sit on my face.”

The moan that spilled from you was instant, involuntary, shameless—your whole body trembling at his words, at the way he said them, like you were a drug and he’d been starved for a fix.

“Don’t be shy now,” he whispered, voice barely a breath as he looked up at you again, dark eyes blazing with hunger and something far worse—adoration. “Go on and give it to me, sugar. Let me taste that perfect little pussy. Promise I’ll take care of you better than anyone ever has.”

“I—uh,” you stammered, a soft, breathless laugh bubbling from your lips, bashful and unsure, your voice trembling like the rest of you as you looked down at him through your lashes, your thighs trembling on either side of his broad chest. “How… how will you breathe?” you asked, the question so sweet, so innocent, it made Joel groan low in his throat like it hurt him.

Joel chuckled softly, his thumbs rubbing soothing little circles into your skin, and then he added, voice low and coaxing, “You worry too much, sugar. Just let daddy take care of it. You just sit that pretty thing right on my mouth and hold on tight. Let me show you what a real man can do with no air in his lungs and his stepdaughter drippin’ down his throat.”

And the worst part—the sickest, most shameful part—was the way your hips tilted forward, instinctively, like your body was already saying yes, even if your mind was still spinning.

“Enough talkin’,” Joel growled, his voice suddenly rougher, deeper, edged with something sharp and molten—and before you could even process the shift, his hand came down hard on your ass, a sharp smack that echoed through the living room and made you yelp, more shocked than hurt, your body jolting forward in instinct. The sting bloomed fast, heat flashing across your skin—and before you could so much as whimper, he was gripping your hips tight with both hands and yanking you down, forcing you onto his mouth like he’d lost every ounce of self-control he’d been pretending to have.

You gasped—no, choked—a sound ripped straight from your lungs, loud and broken, as your pussy met the full, hungry heat of his mouth, his tongue already working like a man possessed. He groaned the second he tasted you, that low, guttural noise vibrating directly against your core, and it was diabolical, the way he moaned like you were his favorite meal and he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Your entire body lurched forward, instinctively bracing your hands on the back of the couch behind his head, your thighs shaking, your breath stuttering as your mouth fell open, lips parted in a silent scream. The sound—his sound, the groan he made the second you were on his face—echoed inside you, down your spine, into your chest, like it rewired your organs, like it knocked the air out of your lungs and replaced it with something molten.

And still, he didn’t let up.

Joel dragged you closer, his grip bruising now, hands spreading you open for him, his face buried so deep it was like he wanted to drown in you—and maybe he did. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to die like this, with your thighs shaking around his ears and your scent all over his lips, his stepdaughter made into something sweet and sacred between his teeth.

“You taste better than fuckin’ heaven,” he muttered into you between strokes, and you whimpered, already unraveling, already gone.

It was unreal—otherworldly, even—the way Joel ate you out, like he was a man on death row and you were his final meal, and he was determined to savor every last second of it, every twitch, every moan, every drop. From your vantage point—perched above him, thighs trembling, hands gripping the couch behind his head for dear life—you could barely breathe, let alone think.

His tongue lapped at you with slow, deliberate drags at first, warm and too good, circling your clit with the kind of finesse no boy your age had ever dreamed of having—this was a man who knew what he was doing, who enjoyed it, needed it, who moaned into you every few seconds like your pussy was the most sacred place he’d ever been. And fuck, his hands—those big, rough, hands—kept trailing up and down your body, not just holding your hips but gripping them, spreading you wider, sliding up your waist, curling over your belly like he wanted to keep you still and feel everything at once. He reached up once, palm flat against your chest, and squeezed your breast in rhythm with his tongue, and your entire spine arched like he’d struck a chord deep inside you that no one had ever dared touch.

Every time he pulled back to breathe, to talk, you thought you might fall apart from just seeing him—lips red, chin soaked, his beard shining with your slick, mouth swollen like he’d been drinking from you. His voice came out wrecked, voice low and cracked, soaked in sin. “Fuckin’ messy for me, ain’t you, babygirl?” he rasped, his breath fanning hot across your cunt as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, biting the skin gently like he couldn’t stop tasting you. “Sittin’ on my face like a goddamn dream, makin’ a mess all over me. Look at you.”

You moaned, loud and desperate, your fingers twisting into the cushion behind you, and Joel grinned like the devil, dragging his tongue back through your folds slow, then curling it up—and your body jolted like he’d struck you.

He pulled back again, licking his lips, your slick clinging to his stubble. “You feel that?” he whispered, tone low and gleefully cruel. “That’s my tongue, baby. That ain’t a toy. That ain’t some fumblin’ college kid who don’t know what the fuck he’s doin’. That’s a man eatin’ pussy like he’s supposed to.”

And then—like he hadn’t just destroyed you with words alone—he pulled you down again, arms tightening around your thighs as he buried himself in you with a growl, groaning into your pussy like your taste was his salvation, like this—you—was what he’d waited his whole damn life for.

And all you could do was take it. Eyes shut, mouth open, body shaking—because no one had ever touched you like this. No one had ever devoured you like they were grateful just to be allowed.

You groaned, a sound ripped raw from your chest—as your whole body started to burn, your thighs quivering violently around Joel’s head, your back arching as every muscle locked tight with that wild, helpless tension only seconds before release. “I’m—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cu—” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in broken pieces, high-pitched and desperate, your voice choked with sobs and need and the unbearable heat coiling tight in your belly. You were a mess, a stuttering, trembling, wrecked little thing, and he didn’t let up—not for a second.

Joel’s hands gripped your thighs harder, bruising now, controlling, holding you right where he wanted you as his tongue moved in relentless, devastating circles, flicking against your clit with that same impossible precision that had already dragged you to the edge once, twice—again. You shattered with a scream, your body convulsing above him, your hips bucking in his grip—but he didn’t stop.

He kept going.

The orgasm tore through you, brutal and all-consuming, but Joel didn’t ease off, didn’t slow down—his mouth stayed latched, his tongue deeper, filthier, like he wanted you sobbing, wanted you shaking so bad you couldn’t remember your name.

“Take it,” he growled between licks, his voice muffled and soaked, so deep into you that your vision blurred, so relentless it felt like his mouth was etched into your skin. “That’s it, baby. Be a good girl and fuckin’ take it. Daddy’s not done with you.”

You sobbed, shoulders shaking, hands clawing at the back of the couch as tears rolled freely down your cheeks—not from pain, not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, the shattering fullness of it all, the way he kept licking, kept sucking, even as your body tried to twist away from him. But he held you firm, grounded you with those hands, those stepdad hands that never stopped touching, like he couldn’t bear to be away from any part of you.

“Mm, look at you,” he panted, when he finally pulled back for a breath, his mouth and beard soaked, glistening with your slick. “Cryin’ on my face. You cummin’ that hard for me, sweetheart?” His eyes were wild with need, lips swollen, dripping. “You never had a man really eat this pussy before, huh?”

You couldn’t even answer—your mouth hung open, lips trembling, breath coming in ragged little gasps as your entire body trembled like a live wire, the aftershocks of your second orgasm still shuddering through your limbs when another wave crashed over you. A third—God, a third—and it stole your breath, your thoughts, your ability to do anything but sob, every nerve raw and overstimulated as Joel kept going, licking and groaning and sucking like a man starved. You wailed, high and broken, legs twitching as your hips bucked once, then stilled entirely, your strength gone.

And finally—finally—Joel eased up, his hands loosening their bruising grip on your thighs, his mouth slowing to a few soft, reverent licks before he kissed your inner thigh with something dangerously close to affection. You collapsed forward with a whimper, body slack, boneless, ruined, your limbs trembling as your chest pressed to his, your cheek finding his shoulder, hot and damp with tears and sweat. He caught you effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you into his lap like you weighed nothing, like you belonged there, like you always had.

“There she is,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with satisfaction, fingers stroking your spine in lazy, grounding motions. “My good fuckin’ girl. Took it all, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, could barely move, your fingers twitching weakly against his chest.

And then—the sound.

The sharp crunch of tires over gravel outside. The soft groan of the gate opening. The car pulling into the driveway.

Joel’s head snapped up instantly, his arms still locked around you, and then—so calmly, so dangerously collected—he licked his lips, wiped his soaked mouth with the back of his hand, and was already moving. “Shh,” he whispered as you whined, dazed and whimpering, “I got you. Let daddy take care of it.”

In seconds, he had your ruined panties tugged up your thighs, the fabric sticky and damp, your t-shirt slipped over your head like he’d done it a thousand times, smoothing it down over your trembling body. You could barely lift your arms, let alone help, but he didn’t need help—he just dressed you, quick and efficient, like this was routine, like he knew how to hide a mess. Then he lifted you into the corner of the couch, tucked a throw blanket over your bare legs, and ran his fingers gently through your hair, whispering, “You rest, sugar. You did so good.”

The front door creaked open a second later.

“Joel?” your mother’s voice called from the hallway, casual, distracted. “Can you help me with the bags?”

Joel stood, gave you one last look—soft, smug, filthy—and then turned toward the door.

“Comin’, sweetheart,” he called back, already walking toward her. “Lemme get those for you.”

You blinked slowly, barely able to lift your head as you watched him greet her in the entryway. She smiled—smiled—and leaned in to peck him on the lips like it was nothing, like she wasn’t tasting the ghost of her daughter on his mouth.

He kissed her back, warm and easy. “You get the pinot you like?” he asked, casual as sin.

“Mm,” she nodded, brushing past him, “if they haven’t jacked the price up again.”

And just like that, he turned back once, eyes flicking toward you under the guise of nothing, his lips twitching in that same crooked, knowing smile—and you knew, in that moment, he hadn’t just ruined you.

He owned you.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

i hope yall enjoyed xxx

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samoyed (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

[ddeonghwa-s]

good behavior .ᐟ.ᐟ

you're riding kim mingyu and find him absolutely beautiful and perfect. and so it's so easy for good boy to slip from your lips. little do you know that's all he needs to take full control so he can truly show you how much of a good boy he really is.

꒰୨୧꒱— kim mingyu x fem!reader

꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 2.8k

꒰୨୧꒱— genre : smut (mdni)

꒰୨୧꒱— cw : switch!gyu and switch!reader with dom!gyu. penetrative sex, unprotected sex. gendered praise on both sides (good boy/good girl), pet names (reader: princess). descriptive dirty talk, both narratively and with dialogue itself. heavy praise kink!

꒰୨୧꒱— tw : overstimulation, dummification, crying during sex from pleasure n overstimulation. cumming inside, heavy (?) subspace.

꒰୨୧꒱— notes : pure smut! this fic is written very stylistically for smut lol

you don’t think you’ll ever get over the sounds your boyfriend makes. 

kim mingyu is beautiful; this is no different even when he is beneath you. 

your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips. your arms are behind you, hands braced on his strong — thick — thighs. you can feel the clench of muscle underneath you with every gentle fuck of your hips, every sweet roll. your body is like the bow of a violin, his the instrument; with every soft grind of your body against his, the most beautiful, loud song sings, his thighs and abdomen clenching underneath you, his mouth parted wide. 

your boyfriend’s pleasure is undeniable as you look down at him. your hips move in sweet figure eights that make his hands constantly shift from gripping at your thighs to the bedsheets, that makes his head tilt back and bare his golden throat to you. 

and of course his voice. 

mingyu is not quiet with his pleasure, body or sound. so while his body bends and shifts beneath yours, seeking and pushing from the pleasure of his dick in your cunt, his mouth sings. 

“fuck,” he whines, dark brows furrowed together. he hisses, white canines glinting in the bedroom light as his jaw drops in his moan. you can see where his teeth are indenting his pinkish brown mouth, marking his lips while in his sexual trance. 

“feels good,” you question, voice breathy as you continue to gently fuck down on him. it’s a trick question: you know he feels good. you feel so fucking powerful: mingyu, tall and broad and handsome and perfect mingyu, beneath you, his fat cock so deep inside your pussy you swear it’s in your cervix, gravity pushing you further and further down with every roll of your hips. 

his fat dick is deep within you, his large hands digging into the flesh of your thighs, and he’s moaning, mingyu is moaning, lips curling with pleasure. this man, this absolute powerhouse of a man, is moaning and whimpering beneath you, and fuck if you don’t feel absolutely heady with that power. 

when you fuck down on him you ensure his cock is sliding along that pleasure-spot in your pussy, sweetly stoking your own fires of passion. you can’t help but roll your head back at the slide of his dick, eyes falling shut prettily at the sensation. 

mingyu’s hands slip over you. he’s touching without any particular aim, just wanting to feel. he slides his hands over your thighs, your knees. he brush his fingers along the outside of your legs before he grips at your hips. he nails, neatly trimmed and cleaned, dig into the flesh there. 

he doesn’t use his grip to manipulate you in any way. mingyu just holds you like that, possessively marking your skin. 

“feels so good,” he says, hands flexing against you. you can feel him shift beneath you, hips minutely tilting. “you feel so good, princess.”

you let out a little huff of laughter. sweat dots your hairline, your skin is discolored from his enthusiastic mouth and teeth, and your cunt is soaking from your arousal and his precum; yet you’re princess. 

you move forward. you place your hands on mingyu’s abdomen. for a moment you just take in the feel of him beneath your hands. his soft skin, the way it rises and falls with every ragged breath he takes. you don’t think you’ll ever spend a moment not admiring mingyu; his heavy thighs and plush tits, his brown nipples and sweet mouth. 

using your hands to give yourself leverage, you raise your hips off of mingyu. he lets out a shuttering hiss, voice cracking high on the tail-end of it. 

when you drop back down on his cock, the flesh of your thighs meeting his with a sharp slap!, mingyu lets out a deep groan that seems to bubble out from deep within him. 

you laugh again. “that’s it,” you say, still smiling as you raise yourself up off of his dick once more. “gotta be loud for me, sweetheart.”

mingyu lets out another little noise at the deceptively-soft nickname. “gonna kill me,” he whines. “you’re so —”

you drop back on his dick roughly. if you hadn’t spent so long riding him already, hadn’t already been thoroughly fucked open by his cock, the momentum would’ve absolutely torn you in half. as it is you feel breathless, as if the wind had been knocked out from you. 

mingyu lets out a moan. “princess —”

“good boy,” you say, not quite aware of what words are escaping from between your lips, “such a good fucking boy.”

mingyu’s dark eyes open wide, his mouth parting. for a moment or two he just stares, just looks at you. 

you raise your brows at him, hips shallowly fucking down on him, a silent challenge. 

but then mingyu is flushing, blood rushing to color his golden skin. “say it again,” he properly whines, “say it again.”

you laugh at him, breathless. “taking me like a good boy,” you say. “you feel so fucking good inside of me, baby. stretching my tight little pussy so good like the good boy you are.”

mingyu groans again, and then he’s using his grip on your hips to tip you over onto the bed. his dick slips from your pussy as he moves the two of you, pressing your hot, sweaty body into the sheets and claiming your mouth with his. 

mingyu kisses you with absolutely no finesse. it’s all tongue. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and sucks at yours in turn as he lines his dick back to your pussy. 

he doesn’t fuck back into you immediately. mingyu holds his dick with one hand, sliding the tip of it along your folds. you’re absolutely soaking, and you can already feel fluid, a combination of your own juices and his precum, leaking down your cunt. 

“say it again,” mingyu demands, eyes pleading. his curls stick to his forehead sweetly. altogether he paints a cute picture of desperation, of a man trapped in a place where the lines between want and need blur completely. 

you laugh against his mouth. you wind your arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to yours once more. you suck at his lower lip, and for a moment he’s so distracted by your mouth that he forgets how he was taunting you with his dick, cock and the hand guiding it stilling. 

“fuck me, mingyu,” you say against his chin. “fuck me like a good boy.”

mingyu lets out a groan, and then he’s fucking his fat cock back inside. 

your cunt is, rather bluntly, gaping; there’s no pain from the stretch of his dick against your walls because there is no stretch. your pussy has so sweetly molded itself to the shape of him, allowing mingyu to seamlessly thrust back in. 

immediately he’s pushing until his dick is perfectly nestled in, the root of his dick against you. mingyu tucks his head against your neck, letting out a shuddering breath. 

you smile, one of your hands going to entangle with the sweaty curls at the base of his neck. “c’mon,” you gently taunt, “fuck me, baby.”

mingyu groans, a strangled noise, and then, ever obedient, he begins to fuck you. 

the slide of his dick against your walls has you tightening your hold on him, knees squeezing at his hips and toes curling. mingyu can’t help but grunt a little as you constrict him. so he shifts, arms moving to loop underneath your legs and forcing them up, breaking your hold around his neck. 

“gotta fuck you good,” he huffs. he uses the fold of your legs as leverage, slowly, maddingly, pulling his cock back from the hot heat of your pussy. “gonna fuck you so good, princess.”

his hands slip along the underside of your thighs, gripping them as mingyu moves to his knees. mingyu begins to fuck you properly, his thighs meeting your ass with sharp noises that seem to echo throughout the room; they do nothing, however, to hide the wet squelching noise of his cock thrusting in your pussy. 

despite all the times you’ve fucked before, you never seem to be able to get over this. the feeling of his dick striking against your cunt walls, the slight burn of your legs from the position he has you in, the noise of your cunt squelching with every quick thrust. 

because mingyu fucks you so eagerly. he’s chasing that high, chasing that hot pleasure that burns at his core. but he isn’t, of course, a greedy lover. 

mingyu makes sure to grind his hips against you, makes sure to rub against your walls and make those electric bundles within you dance from the stimulation. and he talks as he does it, lisp becoming prominent, eyes bright with the fever of passion. 

“feel so fucking good,” he says, and you almost can’t hear him over the sharp slap of his hips. “you’re so fucking hot and wet, princess — so fucking perfect, fucking made for me, made for my cock. 

“perfect pussy — it’s mine, princess. you’re mine, fuck —” and when your cunt clenches down around his dick in response, mingyu can’t help but laugh breathessly, canines peaking. “like that, princess? like me telling you that you’re mine? you are. all fucking mine, no one else’s.

“no one else gets to see this,” he says, eyes darting over your body. he takes in the jiggle of your tits as he thrusts, the sweat that glistens on your skin. “no one gets to see you all fucked out ‘n pretty like this. no one else gets to see your pretty fucking tits, your cute little cunt.”

he lets out another laugh, and then he’s covering your body with his, hands sliding to the backside of your knees to force them lower and lower. you can’t help but groan a little at the pain of it, toes curling at the stretch. 

and his dick — his dick seems to slide deeper in you, somehow forces itself further. 

“tell me,” mingyu hisses, beginning to fuck you once more. “tell me i’m doing good, princess. gotta say it. say i’m fucking you good.”

you can’t speak for a moment. so much is going on. your pussy is clenching, gut tightening. you’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel everything so acutely; the slap of skin against skin, the stretch of your legs, his fat cock going so deep inside —

“tell me.”

your mouth quivers for a moment. when you speak it’s all automatic, not a single actual thought running through your brain. “so good, gyu — so — you fuck me so — so good —”

finally, and inevitably, mingyu slips his hand down to your cunt. it’s an easy glide of his thick fingers, slippery with your precious juices. for a moment he feels at your hole, feels your little hole gape around his dick as he fucks in out, in out. 

then mingyu’s hand continues on its journey, slipping up to frame your cute clit with his fingers. you’re already tensing up, pussy gripping his cock, in anticipation. 

and then mingyu begins rubbing at the muscle on either side of your clit, sending electric desire sparking up your body. he doesn’t rub in rhythm with his thrusts; instead mingyu keeps his hips quick and rabid and his rubbing smooth, a constant wave. it’s so much, it’s verging on overstimulating. 

you don’t know what to focus on — you can’t focus. 

your hips are bucking up into his, trying to meet each thrust, trying to spear yourself on his fat cock. at the same time you’re trying to force his fingers against you, trying to seek them out, and it’s this horrible, delightful overstimulation where you just don’t know what to do. 

it’s mind dumbing. you feel frantic; wantonly so. there’s no thought in your mind, no desire other than this. 

you want and you’re not even sure what you want; his cock fucking you so good, drilling into your sopping wet pussy, or his fingers, coaxing around your clit. 

you feel dumb with desire and overstimulation. you don’t know, you just don’t know. 

and it’s inevitable, really: you burst into tears. they spring out from your eyes and your mouth opens in a sob, your head pressing back against the mattress. you want want want but you don’t know, you don’t know —

mingyu presses his body against yours, grounding you with his heavy bulk. he presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders and throat and chest, trailing his lips. “c’mon,” he says, “gotta cum for me, princess. cum on my cock, fuckin’ cum on it.”

and you want want want —

mingyu’s teeth are sharp as he bites down onto your shoulder, digging in. the pain is bright and furious as it slices through you. it’s so startling that your entire body just seems to snap, and then you’re cumming, cumming cumming. 

it’s — you don’t even know what it is. all-consuming; electric; overpowering. it’s a cosmos bursting into everything and nothingness. 

mingyu stops thrusting as you cum, instead focusing on rubbing at your clit to get you through the orgasm. the loss of sensation has you sobbing once more, fingers twisting into the sheets as you buck your hips. 

you try to say something; fail. you try again. “p — please, please —”

mingyu lets out a loud groan. once he’s sure your orgasm has subsided, he withdraws from your cunt. you can’t help but cry at the loss, cry at how empty and gaping your pussy feels. 

mingyu manhandles you, twisting your body so your chest is pressing against the mattress and your ass is in the air. he mounts you, cock thrusting inside of you in one swift, almost brutal, movement. 

you press your face against the sheets, crying into them. so much is happening. your body is still ringing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but mingyu is fucking you, and it’s so so so much and it’s so so so wonderful. 

because you feel so utterly used. you’re just a hole for him at this point, just a pussy for him to fuck and get his full of. 

and mingyu does. 

mingyu fucks you. there’s no love in it other than the fact he’s fucking his girl, his princess; no love other than the fact you’re his. he fucks you purely to seek his end, to make that burning-hot fever within him snap, and it just so happens the hole he’s using belongs to you. 

his hands are strong as they grip your hips, slapping you back onto his dick. he lets out soft pants, deep moans. 

“good boy,” he hisses out, mostly air. “‘m your good boy, yeah? fuckin’ you so good, princess. say it. say i’m fucking you so good.”

you fight around the sobs that escape you, and when you speak your words are muffled by the mattress. “fuckin’ me good,” you sob, “my good — good boy, gyu —”

mingyu lets out a low noise, a growl, of satisfaction. he fucks your cunt a few more times, each thrust harsh and quick. the noises are crude, the sound of wet skin against skin, of his dick resisting against the wet suction of your pussy with every pull out. 

and then mingyu’s cumming in you. his cum is hot and thick, and as soon as you feel it fill you there’s an overwhelming satisfaction that shoots through you. 

you made him cum; he came from your cunt. 

mingyu drapes himself over your back, ignoring how your body collapses beneath him. he’s still inside of your pussy, dick plugging your hole and keeping his white cum from dripping out. 

he pushes your sweaty hair aside, presses his nose against the shell of your ear. when he speaks his breath is hot against your flesh. “good girl,” he groans, his hips giving a gentle buck into you. “what a good girl you are. you’re my good girl, aren’t you? my babygirl with the fucking perfect little cunt, perfect little pussy.”

you whine, nodding against the mattress. his words echo in your brain: good girl, good girl, good girl. 

“say it.”

“‘m your good girl,” you whimper.

mingyu laughs against you, breathless. “yes, you are. and ‘cause you’re my good girl you’ll let me, let your good boy keep fucking your cunt, yeah? let me fill you up?”

your body is exhausted. your mind is exhausted. you can’t think, and you don’t know, quite frankly, how you’re even breathing. absolutely nothing is happening; even your blood seems to slow to a stillness within you, your body overwhelmed to a point of merely existing. 

but still: 

“my princess is a good girl,” he says, nipping at your ear lobe. “you’ll let me fill you up again, yeah?”

and you are. you are his good girl, are totally, completely his. 

and so you say: 

“yes.”

[bunni-v1]

wellll since you are taking requests! Can I request Sylus, Caleb, and Zayne with a fem reader who's playful and loves to tease them in public but when their having sex, she's all shy and that?? <33 (I haven't requested something in such a long time, I forgot how this works 😭😭)

Don't Hide~

Pt. 2

🍓Baby, you fucking know you can. My little MC is exactly like this, so thank you soooo much for allowing me to write her vicariously through this ask. I have sooo much fun with brat taming, you have no idea, I should write it wayyyyy more. Anyway, I really tried not to let my favoritism for Caleb show here, but he still has more than the other two. Sue me, I love my man.

TW: Intense eye contact in Caleb's; Brat taming; cat ears mentioned but not relevant in Sylus' part; Sylus is crazy big; teasing; softcore otherwise; editing/grammar errors (i am one college student)

Info: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb x Reader (Separate); NSFW

Word Count(s): Zayne (1.2k); Sylus (1.2k); Caleb (1.5k)

MDNI

ZAYNE

You loved to just push, didn't you? It was an annoyingly charming part of you, one that Zayne just adored in most situations. Playful poking and prodding was part of your daily routine, something he expected and honestly needed from you. If you weren't causing some kind of problem for him, you weren't doing well. He would rather you annoy him than see you sad and quiet.

Still, you really could get under his skin when you tried. Bonuses of knowing each other so well, he guessed. Even framing it like a positive was hard when you were trying your very best to get him to react.

Having your arms wrapped around him was a more than welcome experience in most cases. He loved it when you were so openly affectionate in public; it made him feel better about how badly he wanted to hold you, too. What he was not a fan of was the way your sneaky little hands seemed to be creeping lower and lower down his back. It was cute, at first. Easily mistaken as a comforting gesture when your fingers drew themselves back up after dipping just a little lower.

Yet, they didn't stop dipping a little lower. Each stroke got longer, went further down his back, until your fingers were dancing along the hem of his pants. If that weren't bad enough, you were doing it in front of a colleague of yours. Tara, you'd excitedly introduced. Chirping along happily together like two birds of a feather, like you weren't pushing your luck with each passing second. You knew that, though, didn't you?

He shoots you the subtlest look when your hand hovers over his behind, a warning. One, you do not heed, clamping your hand down and pinching his cheek with a Cheshire grin. And he squeaks, despite expecting it, the feeling still takes him off guard. Your grin only widens, especially when Tara blinks in surprise.

"Are you okay, Mr. Li?" She asks, befuddled at how such a stoic man could make such a noise.

He clears his throat, glancing at you, less subtly, "Fine. We should be going, though."

"Aww," you and Tara pout at the same time, though yours is far less genuine than hers.

"Well, it was nice to see you. Have fun with the rest of your day!" She waves, skipping away, oblivious to the tension between you.

Zayne lets out a deep and heavy breath, annoyance leaving him all at once. His eyes zero in on your smirking face, expression even despite the intent clouding his green eyes. He tugs your hand away, wrapping it around his waist in a firm grip so you don't do the same thing again.

"You can't behave for a second, can you?" He sighs.

Another self-satisfied smirk, "It's not my fault you have such a cute butt! It's just begging me to grab it."

He hums, pulling you along with him without another word. He can feel the excitement rolling off you in waves, practically leaping and bounding at his side to get home. How obnoxiously adorable. Your ability to manipulate him into giving you what you want was admirable; he'll give you that. Besides, it's not as though he'd be the one feeling embarrassed by the end of the night, so he'd let you have your little victories.

--

He'd had you on your knees before the front door could even fully close. Shaky hands struggling with his belt, fumbling futilely a few times before finally wriggling it out enough to unzip his pants and slide his member out. It bobs uselessly in front of your mouth, begging for some semblance of friction. Naturally, as if magnetically attracted, you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

A firm hand stops you before you can, making your face scrunch up in confusion, fluttering up to his. The intensity in his eyes is enough to burn you up from the inside, heated and full of intent. You look away quickly, trying to ignore the heat searing beneath your skin. He doesn't allow you to run, gripping your chin and bringing your eyes back to him.

"Use your hands," He commands, "and look at me. Understood."

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. Not good enough.

"Words."

You swallow, "Yes, Zayne."

The grip on your chin softens, stroking the skin there as if apologizing for the roughness, "Good."

Your shaky hands come up, spitting on them for lubricant, then carefully wrap around his cock. Gentle, easy, practiced. You know what he likes, slow and easy. You watch the way your hands glide along his shaft, smiling when the sticky pre-cum coats your fingers. So pretty.

He clears his throat, and you correct your mistake like you've been Pavloved. Looking up at his flushed face, chest heaving, and body, eyes watching your every move. Nervousness tends to build up in your chest when he looks at you like that. No walls or hidden meaning, just sheer desire. You want to hide away from it, but you know he won't let you. All you can do is swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat and let your face burn hotter and hotter.

You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate some of the need between your legs. It's useless, as expected, and only serves to make you feel more pathetic. You don't stop, though, obediently tugging his member at an even pace. His breath grows more shaky with each stroke, mouth slightly ajar and puffing the hot air out unevenly. Much prettier.

His fingers trace along your chin, down the sensitive column of your neck, and back up again. Mirroring your movements from earlier, giving you a taste of your own medicine. It makes you shy away a little, flinching back when they dip between your collarbones. He spreads them out as he comes back up, pausing in the center of your throat and giving the smallest press, prompting you to swallow against them. He shudders when you do, having to use the door to keep himself upright.

He was close, so close. It made you want to speed up, but you don't. Not unless he tells you to.

"Are you sorry?" He suddenly asks, low and gravely, like it was hard to get out in the first place.

You bite your lip, shrinking into yourself as you mumble, "'m sorry..."

"Clearly," he commands, "or else I'll make you stop right now."

You jolt, shaking your head adamantly, "I-I'm sorry. I am! I promise, please?"

He scoffs a laugh, "Brat... open your mouth, now."

You comply, sticking your tongue out, and within a few moments, he's spurting out onto it. You lap up his release obediently, never breaking eye contact, no matter how much it drives you insane. The hand on your chin comes up to pet your hair, a silent praise for your good work.

"Did you learn your lesson?" He asks lowly, scratching your scalp gently.

You nod, proud to please. It's cute. Really cute. But he's not quite satisfied. With a low hum, he helps you off your knees, nudging you through the house on a straight path to the bedroom.

"Why don't we test that theory, then?" He whispers, a promise that you were in for a long night of behavioral correction.

SYLUS

Sylus was a tease at heart, always pushing your buttons and getting on your nerves with little to no effort at all. He'd admitted to you on more than one occasion that he found your feisty reactions positively adorable. You were his little kitten, after all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't get you swatting your claws at him?

However, teasing him was a difficult endeavor. One that you'd become an expert in. See, you couldn't just whisper sweet nothings into his ear or draw your hands along him sensually. He didn't react to that; he found it more funny than alluring. Calling you needy, which you weren't. No, if you wanted to get something out of him you had to be smarter than just sheer sex appeal.

You had to be cute.

Not so cute that you came off as childish and stupid, he would catch on to things too fast and ruin your fun. Just cute enough that it would get his heart racing, make him pause, and take a second to admire you. When he did that, you knew you got what you wanted.

Which is why you were walking hand in hand with him now, swinging your arm just slightly between your bodies. You were in some expensive shopping district, looking around for something to wear for a mission you were assigned to. He'd insisted on buying you a dress when you'd mentioned it offhand. Who were you to deny him the privilege of seeing you spin around in glittering dresses like a teenager picking out a prom dress?

You'd gotten a bit... off track, though. Purposefully, of course, not that he needed to know that. Excitedly bounding from shop window to shop window, gazing in at the silly souvenirs and cute little stuffed animals like a kid on Christmas. Sylus allowed you to tug him around, a soft smile on his face as you rambled about how cute that little teddy bear is, then in the same breath refused to let him buy it for you.

You stopped short when you came across a little standee outside of a costume shop, laughing at its contents. Cat ears of various types hung on the little turnstile, the perfect killer. You bounded up to it, scanning across the different types before plucking two off the rack. You turn back to Sylus then, a giddy smile as you show him your little treasure, lifting it up with pride.

He leans down without another word, letting you set the white pair on his head. His eyes softening when you clap your hands. You know you've got him right where you want him. You just needed the finishing blow. You set the second pair on your head, pointing your chin to the sky like a proud lion.

He smirks at the sight, petting your head like he would a regular cat, "Aren't you cute?"

You bite your lip, going in for the throat, "Now I really am your kitten, huh?"

He pauses, visibly processing your words and realizing just what you were up to. A scoff tumbles out of his mouth, eyes rolling from the sheer idiocy. He'd fallen for your cutesy little antics, again, just like he always did. Steady fingers grip your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes settled on him.

"I wasn't aware she was so prone to misbehavior. Tell me, are you looking for punishment, kitten?" He purrs lowly.

Mission successful, "I'dunno what you mean, Sy..."

--

Riding Sylus always felt impossible thanks to his incredible size. You always managed to fit it, but it was more than just a little fight. This is what you asked for, though. Your little cry for attention earlier rewarded with a brand new pair of cat ears, and Sylus’ lazy smirk as you struggled to adjust to him.

Your hands weakly kneaded at his chest, trying to ground yourself from the intensity of the stretch. He merely watched you, red eyes drawing across your figure slow and steady, pleased to have you on display for him. His calloused hands rested at your waist, thumbing over the skin there in approval as you settled down.

It was impossible to hide from him like this, making the burning sensation across your body all the more apparent. You just couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the way he seemed to drink you in, savoring you with every sense at his disposal. You were sure he had a secret sixth one made just to relish in your humiliation. Yet, he does not say a word to shame you or make you feel less than. Just watches and appreciates you as you are.

Somehow, that was worse than degradation, melting your mind to a mushy pile of nervousness.

Still, you’d practically begged for this, and as always Sylus had given it to you as you wished. You wouldn’t want to disappoint both of you, so you took a deep breath and began rolling your hips. Slow little circles at first. Unsure, but gradually building as you grew more comfortable in your place on top of him.

Each movement set your nerves alight, sending shocks of pleasure across each inch of your skin. The heat building in your core, spanning across every nook and cranny of your body, wrapping you in a blanket of warm pleasure. Sylus seems to track it with his eyes, drawing up from the sensual roll of your hips, to the way your muscles tense, across your bouncing tits, and landing on your scrunched up little face.

You could practically hear him purring — no, he was purring. A low grumble shaking his chest, traveling through your trembling fingertips and sending the signals directly to the heat between your legs. To be admired so much was just too much for you to handle right now.

You lean over him, tucking your face into his shoulder. It’s a weak attempt to hide at best, not that you’d be able to hide no matter what you did, but you make it all too easy for him to pull you up with a gentleness that seemed too loving for the moment. All too Sylus as he eased your pouting visage back into his line of sight.

“Running away already?” He coos, fingers massaging your neck as if placating you.

You’re far too embarrassed to argue with him, so you just nod, “It’s too much.”

He hums, mocking thought as he takes in your weak excuses. You’re far too cute for him to know what to do with, but he would figure it out, “Do you need my help, kitten?”

In the second of clarity you have, you debate telling him no. Yet, he twitches inside of you when you open your eyes to take in his all consuming stare, and the thought evaporates from your mind. You do need his help, very badly. You’ll probably burn alive between the scorching pleasure and his fiery gaze without him there to placate the flames.

You give him a weak little teary eyed nod, and he eases your face back into his shoulder. He was always so accommodating with you, so gentle and loving that it made your stomach tie into knots. Only forgetting the feeling when he helped to work you along his length, humming sweet words of praise into your ears, letting you hide away from him all you wanted. That’s what you wanted after all, right?

CALEB

Teasing Caleb was an art form that only you had mastered. You would think that after knowing someone for so long, it would be easy to rile them up. Yet, Caleb was the most controlled man you had ever met when it came to handling your light-hearted jabs. Part of it was thanks to how well he knew you, but the other part was simply because he was good at ignoring his own feelings. He could push and push and push them down to the depths of his mind until they were practically non-existent, and your teasing was no different.

The most you'd get for your efforts was a smirk, maybe a ruffle of your hair as he scolds you, and if you were really annoying, he would chase you around the house and tickle you for your crimes. Rarely was it anything more intense than that.

Rarely. Not never.

There was one way to get Caleb hot and bothered enough to do something, and that was your favorite game of all time: Look, don't touch. It was fun to see just how far you could get, doing all his favorite things with an air of innocence, just to see how long it would take to get him to crack.

Your personal favorite method of torture was to find a shirt of his - dirty, preferably - slide it on and walk around the house with nothing but it and a lacy pair of red panties. (His favorite, judging from how often they go missing from the laundry.) It's a long game you have to play, because winning against Caleb's disciplined ability to pretend was always a long game. Luckily, you were just about the one weakness in his mental fortitude.

You start in the morning before he leaves for work, or else it won't work. If he's at home all day, he'll just take care of it without thought. You walk out of the room, and his eyes catch on your legs. They rake over the exposed skin like trying to burn it into his memory, as if he hadn't done that a million times before. Then, like clockwork, he realizes what he's doing and tries to look anywhere but you as you waltz around. Knowing he has a responsibility that he can't skimp on, even for you, keeps him stiff and robotic as you kiss him goodbye.

Then, step two kicks in: text him frequently. Keeping yourself at the forefront of his mind (which you always are, mind you) and letting him know you're thinking of him makes him squirm in a way that's unbefitting of a soldier. He can't stop himself from thinking about your legs, the way his shirt rested against your body, and what was beneath it. Waiting, begging him to get a peek as you stretched your arms over your head. His eye twitches when you send him yet another suspiciously worded text - never incriminating, but always implicative.

Then, when his shift is nearly over, when you spent your whole day playing coy, you reach the final phase of your plan. You send pictures. Nothing explicit. That would ruin the fun of it all. Just cute, mundane tasks. A downward angle of you cooking dinner, reading a book on his bed, or maybe just a picture of a movie you're watching with your bare legs in view. All visual reminders of what he left at home, all reminders of why he needs to get back now.

--

Normally, Caleb prefers you to tell him what you like in bed. He's soft, attentive, a little sloppy, but entirely obsessed with your pleasure. It's not as though he's neglecting that part of himself, quite the opposite, actually. You were the one who had made it abundantly clear that you wanted- needed him to put you in your place. He knows your little games, he knows you like no other person on the planet - in the galaxy, hell, the entire universe.

So, of course, he knew you wanted him to fold you in half and show you what happens to misbehaving, teasing little pipsqueaks like yourself for all your efforts. Who was he to deny you of what you'd been begging for all day? Wouldn't that make him a bad Caleb? It almost means that the way he makes you look at him, knowing full well that the eye contact sends you into a flurry of embarrassment. He's just so... intense, in every sense of the word, especially when he's having sex with you.

One leg bent up to your head, the other wrapped around his waist, and two strong arms boxing your head had you surrounded. Chest to chest, buried to the hilt, there was no escaping the little prison of pleasure Caleb had built for you. Your reward equaled your punishment, and you wished you could complain, but you knew your voice would catch in your throat and Caleb would tease you for it. You had no choice but to sit there and look up at him, hoping he'd be a little nicer than you were to him today.

His eyes are hot as they trace along the planes of your face, eating up the sight like his last meal on earth. The subtle shift in his expression as you squeeze around him, feeling the intensity of his gaze far more deeply than you'd ever admit out loud. His eyebrows twitch up in surprise, before a lazy smirk crawls over his face, leaning down to kiss along the apple of your cheek to the shell of your ear.

"Y'know," He starts in a low drawl, sending your head spinning, "If you want me to take care of you, you can just ask."

You shake your head, though there isn't a real purpose for it. You're just a little too flustered to think right when he's got you like this. His dominance really is something all-consuming, and it reminds you why you don't tease him like this often. You would be a dead man if you had to put up with his relentlessness every time you had sex.

"No?" He asks, as if he's confused, but the condescension in his voice gives him away.

He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing against your walls just enough to get you to tremble a little. Then, all at once, he pulls himself out to the tip and pushes his way back inside in a fluid motion, "You don't want me to do that? Then tell me what you need, won't you?"

You whimper, tossing your arms on your face like that might help you here. Nearly forgetting how easily he overpowers you in your hazy headspace until he seamlessly pulls your hands over your head, interlacing your fingers as if they belonged together.

"No, no, no. None of that, you gotta look at me, 'kay?" He hums so sickeningly sweet it makes you want to swing at him.

A whine tears through your throat, tossing your head to the side to bury into his arm. Defiant and bratty to the end, as always. He huffs out a laugh that's all too affectionate for how annoying he was being, then chases your face with his own. You feel the warm press of his sweat-slicked forehead against yours, heated breath fanning over your face. You don't budge, not even when he nudges your nose with his own as encouragement.

He's reaching the end of his limited patience; you can feel it in the way his fingers tremble around your wrists. He could hold back all day when you weren't physically near him, but he was inside you for god's sake. Any man - well trained soldier or not - would collapse under the extreme pressure of a nice warm pussy. Your nice warm pussy was simply one of the greatest weaknesses he had, second only to your oh so pretty eyes he was being deprived of right now.

"Pips," He whines, voice uncharacteristically squeaky, "Lemme see your pretty eyes, yeah?"

You curl your hands into tight fists, trying and failing to fight him off one last time. A little voice in your mind reminds you of how mean you were to him today. Listen to his voice, he needs you just as bad as you need him. It's okay to give in, Caleb will take care of everything, it whispers so sweetly. You can't refuse its logic, not when it seems so totally right as he twitches inside you again.

You slowly peel your eyes open, nearly jumping at the way he's staring so intently at you. Brows worried, lip caught between his teeth, and pretty purple eyes darting across your face. You expect some kind of comment from him, some words of praise or thanks, but all you get is his hips pulling back and slamming back into you. It gets your toes curling instantaneously, a moan ripping from your vocal cords in surprise.

You shouldn't be, though. This is what you wanted. Caleb was just giving it to you. He would always give it to you.