#little lady jumped onto my arm out of nowhere and promptly fell

[crabussy]

??????????? hello

[hailbop1701]

So Bones...?

Leonard McCoy X Female Reader

Here's a little supernatural Au for you all. I wrote it and promptly forgot about it until I started cleaning up my folders. Hope ya'll like it!

No beta so...

-H❤🖖

Your breaths came out hard as you ran. The forest floor is bouncy but harsh beneath your bare cut up feet. A sob broke out from your lips as you stumbled and fell to your knees bruising and slicing them open.

Scrambling to your feet once more you glanced over your shoulder as you took off again.

The shadow of a man in the distance getting closer spurred you on. Gasping for air now you pushed yourself just a bit further.

You were so focused on getting away from your capture that you didn't see the glowing green eyes watching you. Following you.

The woodsy terrain slowly turned harsher, more jagged, and filled with sharp stones. Yelping you skidded to a stop. Arms windmilling to keep your balance you stop just before a cliff's edge.

You stared at the murky rapidly moving river below with horrified eyes. The sound of thundering footsteps made you slowly turn around.

The man who had taken you stepped out of the dark, a wicked grin on his face. Panting slightly he licked his lips.

"Nowhere to go girly," he hissed voice harsh and full of dark promises. You stepped back to get away from him only to stop short as your feet skimmed the edge of the cliff. Gulping you clench your hands into fists, your face full of rage. Your sudden bravery made your capture chuckle.

"Feisty thing aren't yeh? Come on kid, step away from the cliff," he whispered putting honey in his voice he held out a hand.

"Fuck you," you growled hands shaking with adrenaline. The man's grin widened,

"Now that's a promise," he threatened with a glint in his muddy eyes. You shuddered feeling sick all of a sudden. Your feet brushed the edge again sending pebbles and debris tumbling into the water below.

The man stepped forward ready to grab your arm but a low growl made you both freeze. Stepping out of the treeline was a wolf, his brown fur glowed in the light of the moon. His eyes a piercing green that glinted angrily.

The wolf growled but not at you. He was only looking at the man in front of you with hackles raised. The man chuckled, raising a placating hand toward the wolf.

"Easy big fella, I'm just here for the little lady and I'll be on my way." He said keeping his voice calm and controlled. The wolf bared his teeth, not impressed by the creep talking to him.

You could have sworn that you saw the wolf roll his eyes! The creature stepped forward making the man step away from you. They moved in synch until the wolf was between you and the man who took you days previous.

You stared at the giant canine in disbelief. The man snorted and pulled out a gun from the waist of his pants. The wolf faltered only slightly before growling almost angrily.

Before the man could bark out an entire laugh the wolf lundged. A shot rang out and the animal yelped in pain but kept going. The wolf latched onto the evil man's neck cutting off his cries with a quick snap.

The whole thing caught you by surprise. It was enough for you to forget where you were. It was like time slowed to a crawl, the wolf swiveled his eyes widening. He yelped jumping over the dead man at his feet.

The cliff's edge grew more distant when you heard a rip and a grunt of pain. Crying out you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.

"Hold on, I got you!" A panicked voice called out from above you. Gasping you sharply looked up. Vivid green eyes stared back at you, messy brown hair sticking up in all directions. Blood lined his mouth, his white teeth glinting.

He reached down with his other hand so you could take it. He pulled you up easily, helping you back over the cliff and onto solid ground.

He was tanned and completely naked. Squeaking you covered your eyes a blush creeping from the bottom of your neck to the top of your ears.

At your reaction, the wolf-turned-man cursed colorfully. "I'm sorry darlin'" he apologized and you laughed nervously.

"I think I'm going insane," you muttered keeping one hand over your eyes. The guy chuckled, "You're not, I promise," he sighed sitting behind you so his back was yours. Now that you were facing away from each other you lowered your hand.

"You're (Y/N) (Y/L/N) aren't you? " he asked quietly his voice soft with a thick drawl. You grimaced but nodded,

"Yeah, that's me,"

"Well, I gotta say it's great to finally see yeah darlin' we've been looking for quite some time now," he breathed out a sigh of relief. You furrowed your brows,

"Who are you?" You asked tilting your head slightly so his profile was in your periphery. The man ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"My name's Leonard. Leonard McCoy and I work with the police department on...special cases," he admitted with a slight smile. You smiled back the tension in your back easing away. You had no reason to trust him but you did. There was something about him that made you feel safe.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Leonard McCoy,"

Leonard laughed, "it's nice to meet you too (Y/N), even if it's not under the best circumstances." He said dryly. You wrinkled your nose and nodded,

"Yeah it would have been better if it was a coffee shop or something," you chortled amused. You felt Leonard shake in laughter behind you,

"You're taking all of this incredibly well," he praised sounding surprised. You let that sink in with everything else that has happened. Giving a little shrug you sighed, "I'm...used to crazy. Though you're my first shifter," you admitted. Leonard stiffened for a second,

"You're part of-"

"The community? Yeah," you sighed and yelped when he turned around quickly to look at you. Keeping your eyes locked Leonard furrowed his brows taking a deep breath. He was smelling you.

"Witch?" He asked perplexed, you smirked and shook your head. "Not so much no, I was born with my abilities," you hummed and thought of a better way to explain it.

"I guess you could call me a seer, someone who can see and talk to the dead," you offered with a wince waiting for him to cringe or get away from you. He didn't. He just hummed turning back to his original position but pressing his back to yours. You didn't realize until now, that you were freezing.

"How are your feet?" Leonard asked quietly, sounding guilty. Looking down at the bloody mess you wince, "Hurts but it's not too bad," your reassurance didn't help him any.

"Bones!" A new voice called through the trees. Two people burst through the treeline flashlights shining in their direction.

"Jim, Spock! It's about Goddamn time!" Leonard ground out in a scolding manner. A young blonde man let out a breathy laugh,

"You found her!"

You could practically hear Leonard roll his eyes, "No kidding, just in time too. Now can I please have my pants now?"

The blonde man laughed again pulling a backpack off his shoulders. "I got ya bud hold on," he mumbled, pulling open the bag. Digging for a moment he twisted and pulled a pair of boxers and jeans out and tossed them over your head. Leonard grunted in thanks and began to get dressed.

The blonde man smiled and knelt in front of you, he held out a hand "Hi detective James T. Kirk, I'm glad we finally found you," he flirted. A warning growl reverberated from behind you. The detective looked shocked for a moment before a huge grin broke across his face.

Leonard walked around so he was standing by kirks' side. "Let me take a look at her injuries and then you can get going," he murmured, bending down taking one of your feet gently in his hand.

"I will stay here to watch over the body until the coroner arrives," the other detective - Spock if you were to guess- said, his voice carrying little emotion. Leonard winced at the mention of the dead man.

When he was done he pulled a sweatshirt from Kirks’s bag and helped you into it. Spock approached with his hands neatly folded behind his back, "Doctor I suggest you vacate the area immediately," he said gravely. Leonard cursed and quickly stood looking into the forest like he could hear more people coming.

He looked down at you again with a sad smile which you returned. Nodding your head in understanding you vowed to keep his secret. He left for the tree line with Spock in tow; with one last look at you, he was gone.

You grinned happily when a howl penetrated the air.

Bonus +

A few days later at the station, you sat talking with detective Kirk giving your last statement. Before leaving you smirked and reached into your bag, pulling out a business card you hand it to him. "For Doctor McCoy, my personal and business number if he ever needs to talk," you said with a wink. Kirk let out a laugh and nodded taking the card.

"I'll get it to him right away,"

Once you left Kirk danced, "Way to go Bones!" He practically cheered. Grabbing his phone off the desk he dialed his best friend's number.

Tags:

Everything: @lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908

Star Trek X Reader: @bitch-slap-dukat, @beatriceshadowmarvel2, @morriganwarrior

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Stay Peachy: Kwamibuster

Summary: With Ladybug out of commission Chat Noir is the only one who can stop Kwamibuster... If only everyone would just work with him here!

---------------------------------

"Let me get this straight. Tikki's captured. Ladybug's powerless and captured, I was this close to losing you too but you won't tell me where Master Fu is? Am I missing anything?" Adrien asked Plagg.

Plagg twitched nervously. "But- but-"

"You have five seconds to give me a good alternative or we're going to see Fu," Adrien announced.

"You could distract Kwamibuster while Ladybug escapes!" Plagg tried.

Adrien crossed his arms and glared. "I said a good alternative! You getting caught isn't good for anyone!"

"Might be good for Ladybug?" Plagg shrugged his arms and gave his most convincing grin.

"Sure! I'll just hand Papillon the other kwami he needs while I have to use a banana suit to protect my identity or something!" Adrien replied sarcastically.

"You'd love that wouldn't you." Plagg knew Adrien. There was a good chance-

The sound of a door being blown off it's hinges echoed down the hallway as Kwamibuster started searching the floor they were on. "Where are you, little cat? I already have a ladybug for my insect collection. Now I just need a small mammal!"

Plagg gave his best kitty cat eyes.

Adrien didn't budge.

Plagg's arms drooped. "Okay, okay! Let's just get outa here first!"

"Knew you'd see things my way." Adrien smirked.

---------------

Master Fu was having a nice, calming, afternoon tea with Wayzz when there was an insistent banging at his door. Wayzz hiding at the sound.

The Guardian sighed. "Who could that be?"

The banging got louder.

"Patience! I am coming! What's the big-"

A blond headed blur shot in and slammed the door shut.

"So this is where you live. Nice place ya got here. Ladybug's in trouble and I need more Miraculous!" Adrien's words tumbling out in a rush as his heartbeat jumped up his throat. Maybe I should have used the window.

"Chat Noir!?" Fu's eyes nearly popping out of his head in surprise.

"Sorry, Master." Plagg appeared, uncharacteristically serious, ears low. "It was an emergency."

"Plagg!?" This was unprecedented! Yes, the Kwami of Destruction was the most free spirited of those in the Miracle Box. But even he knew the importance of secrecy! "What are you doing-"

"Ladybug's in trouble! I just said that!" Adrien supposed he could have worded it better... But also: Ladybug was in trouble! And he was in a hurry!

The Guardian glanced from boy to kwami. Who nodded. "Very well," Fu conceded. Going to the gramophone and entering the code. Bringing out the Miracle Box which he set in its usual place when Marinette came. "Adrien Agreste, choose an ally to help you on this mission. Remember that they mist return the Miraculous once the mission is complete."

Adrien stared as the Miracle Box opened. Kneeling down in imitation of the Guardian's pose. He hadn't known there were so many Miraculous! One of them surely had the power to help! Only...

"What is it Chat Noir?"

Adrien looked up at Master Fu's face. "I dunno what most of these do."

The Guardian sighed. "This is exactly why it should be Ladybug who chooses the temporary hero."

"Hey, it's not my fault you decided she was the only one who could know things!" So this is what being Chat Noir without the mask felt like. "I'm-" Adrien paused as a thought hit him. "Oh. Oh!"

"... Yes?" Master Fu prompted.

"I just realized how dumb it is that I'm not supposed to know the temporary heroes secret identities."

Fu blinked. "Excuse me?"

Adrien shook his head to get his thought process back on track. "Anyway!"

"Chat Noir, what did you mean by-"

"No time!" Adrien pointed at the Miraculous. "Teach!"

Grumbling something about manners Fu acquiesced.

Skipping over the ones Adrien already knew the Guardian quickly ran down the list. The Pig could show you your deepest desire? Seemed like it'd be a good distraction. The Dragon had how many abilities!? Overpowered but okay. The Mouse could make little copies of you. Heh, that sounded adorable but-

"That's it!" Adrien interrupted Fu to grab the Fox and Mouse Miraculous. Which he promptly put on.

"What are you doing!?" The Guardian exclaimed. "No holder has ever used three Miraculous before! It's too dangerous!"

"Well, I don't know who Rena Rouge is and I'm not gonna spend any more time looking!" Adrien turned to the materializing Fox and Mouse kwamis. "Sorry, we're in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, aren't we always? Name's Trixx."

"Mullo!"

"Alright. Mullo, transforme-moi!"

Multimouse took a moment to adjust to the unfamiliar magic of his new suit.

"I really don't think this is the best course of action," Fu said, attempting to dissuade the young boy.

"Relax, Master! I'll keep him out of trouble!" Trixx announced.

Multimouse nodded as he opened a window. "Thanks. Now, c'mon Trixx, Plagg. I'll explain the plan on the way!" So saying, he launched himself skyward.

Wayzz finally emerged from his hiding place, floating towards his holder.

Fu looked at his kwami. "Oh, I hope he doesn't collapse on the way."

---------------

"True or false? Ladybug has disguised herself as Mr. Banana!"

Marinette was not having a good day. First, Chat Noir's kwami almost reveals her identity. Then, Tikki got captured! And now that tomcat was nowhere in sight. Marinette had barely escaped from Kwamibuster the first time and now she was cornered mere meters from the exit!

"Uh, stay peachy?!" Marinette ran for it.

But Kwamibuster leapt over her and grabbed her wrist. "You can't get away from me!"

"CHARGE!"

From the doorway came a whole swarm of kwamis! Flitting about Kwamibuster and distracting her enough for Marinette to get away.

"You can't get away from me!" Kwamibuster chased after them as they sped off. "You're no match for Kwamibuster!"

"Ladybug!"

Turning around, Marinette saw Plagg and a little guy holding onto his ears. She blinked, this was the first time she saw the Mouse Miraculous in action.

"It's me!" he declared, grinning. "Chat Noir! Or Multimouse, I guess."

"Chat Noir!?" But that meant- No, no, she could panic about that later. "Well, then you must need my Miraculous." Marinette reached for her earrings.

"Uh, no? Why would you think that?"

"Because... Nevermind. What's the plan?"

Multimouse winked. "You'll see. Make your way back to the roof!" And zipped away before Ladybug could ask more questions.

"... A Chat Noir plan. This oughta be interesting."

---------------

"I will capture you all!"

Kwamibuster laughed maniacally as she shot her beam at the Plagg reskins. Made by Multifox with his Mirage. And that wasn't the only part of the illusion.

"I have to say. I think Ladybug will be impressed," Plagg stated. Floating directly above the supervillain so she would need to crane her neck straight up to spot them.

"It has to work first," Multimouse replied. Still standing on top of Plagg's head. His small army made their way into position.

Now!

Multimouse's invisible doubles launched their indestructible ropes at Kwamibuster. Becoming visible as they wrapped her up like Gulliver on Lilliput.

"What!? What's going on!? Oof!" She toppled none too gently.

Wasting no time Plagg zipped down.

"No! You can't beat Kwamibuster!" She freed her blaster hand.

"Mullo, Plagg, unify!"

"Aha!" Twisting upwards she aimed the beam at Multimouse.

"Cataclysm!"

Adrien's power touched the tip of her barrel and the rust spread from it to her pack. Freeing Tikki as dark mist transformed Kwamibuster back into Mme. Mendeleiev.

Adrien merged himself back together as the akuma flew past him. "Uh, Ladybug!"

A red blur shot out and caught the akuma before it could get far. Ladybug releasing a white butterfly in its place.

Multimouse grinned. "Perfect timing as always, My Lady."

"I dunno about that." Ladybug looked around at the destroyed rooftop.

"You think it'll work without a Lucky Charm?" Multimouse asked, following her train of thought.

Ladybug looked at her yo-yo. "The akuma was purified so it should." Throwing it skyward with a little more strength than usual she called out the words. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

The cure swept around them as Ladybug's yo-yo fell back into her hands.

"Knew you could do it," Multimouse praised. "Now, I've got some errands to run-" he tapped the two Miraculous necklaces "-so you take care of Mme. Mendeleiev."

He half turned. "Oh! And sorry about my kwami. No idea what he was doing at that primary school."

"It was a- lycée, yeah. Lycée."

"Right!" He grinned. "A lycée." Totally not a collège. Giving Ladybug a two finger salute he leapt off the tower. Mme. Mendeleiev's insistence on the validity of her scientific discovery fading behind him.

---------------

Adrien held out his index finger to shake the kwamis' hands. "You were both a big help! Thanks."

"You weren't so bad yourself, Chat Noir," Trixx grinned.

"Yeah!" Mullo agreed. "Usually Plagg's holders are no fun but you ran circles around that kwami snatcher!"

Adrien blushed a little at their praise. "Hope we can work together again someday." The kwamis waved as they reentered their Miraculous.

Master Fu closed the Miracle Box once Adrien placed them back inside. Returning it to its hiding place. "It is quite impressive that you withstood the power of three Miraculous long enough to accomplish your task."

"... Actually it was super easy. Barely an inconvenience."

The Guardian blinked. "What?"

Adrien nodded. "Yeah, I don't think occasionally using two or three Miraculous at once is all that dangerous. Maybe if you wore a whole bunch of 'em. But why would you do that?"

Fu processed that for a bit.

Adrien sipped from his tea, awkwardly. "... So does this mean I finally get Guardian training?"

Master Fu nearly slipped as he sat back down. "Huh?"

"I mean, I already know where you are. And we've seen that if Ladybug is compromised it's better if I know what to do," Adrien reasoned out logically.

"I... That is... Uh..." Fu looked desperately at Plagg, who was gorging himself on cheese.

"Hey, don't look at me. Kid's got a point." Plagg swallowed another wedge of Camembert.

Fu slumped with a sigh. Clearly outmaneuvered. "Where should we start?"

"Potions!" Adrien exclaimed, eyes sparkling. This was going to be fun. He could feel it!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Heuj valves, you know what I'm here for, go on. Make us a story dolly >:)

-cursed

Okay, in case you guys haven’t been around for like, the past day or two, let me explain. This is involving Bill Sykes, the villain of the movie ‘Oliver and Company’. Cursed came out of nowhere, showed me this man, and he has LITERALLY kept me up all night last night. I’m tired, majorly horny, and I hate this big, BIG man so much. Let’s go. (Also side note first attempt writing him, I'm trying)

Money. Money was a thing that made the world go round. It was something everyone wanted, something everyone would fight tooth and nail to get. Some people had nothing, and some had far too much. Like Sykes. Sykes had so much money, through brute force, through cunning, through anything and everything unsavory. And with so much money, came with the ability to have SO much power, of which he abused. If he wasn’t taunting people with how much money he had, he was luring more people in with his classic charm. As evil as he was, no one really seemed to see it at the beginning. They saw an older, rather likeable man. It was why no one blinked twice when he walked into the clothes store. If anything, he was welcomed, especially by the man behind the counter.

“Mr.Sykes! Just on time! Ever the punctual man! I got your new suit in!”

“Good, good. You’re one of the few in this city that DOESN’T disappoint me.”

“I should hope not, you’re my best customer! Speaking of, can I be daring enough to offer you a new set of shoes?”

“Wasn’t looking for a new pair, but what the hell.”

Sykes let him be walked to the counter. He JUST so happened to be on the counter next to some lady. Pretty thing, honestly. She somehow didn’t notice him, and pushed a handbag across the counter.

“Hey, I didn’t see a tag on this. Can you check it for me?”

This lady didn’t belong here. This was a real ‘if you had to ask, you can’t afford it’ kinda place. The guy behind the counter gave her a look, before glancing at the bag.

“Twenty nine fifty, miss.”

“Only thirty bucks? Okay-”

She went to dig into her current purse, before he cleared his throat.

“Ma’am, no. I’m saying it's two thousand, nine hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Ah. So when do I get the bull?”

“Pardon?”

“The bull. The one who's giving me this fresh batch of shit."

Sykes had to give her one thing, she had a mouth on her. Sykes sensed a fight, and decided to turn that into his favor.

“Hey, let me pay for the lady here.”

She looked at him, seeming to just now notice his presence. She was reasonably suspicious, and seemed to almost snarl at him.

“I don’t do freebies.”

“Not a freebie. Just thought a pretty lady should have pretty things. If you don’t want it, fine, won’t push it. Really, it’s on me.”

She hesitated, before seeming to put her guard down, pushing the purse back across the counter. He chuckled, swiping his card. This is how you brought the pretty ones in. Buy them something nice and shiny, show them you were a sweet guy. He grabbed his things, and stepped outside with her. She was staring at her purse in fascination, before turning to look at him.

“Thanks a bunch, by the way. Didn’t catch your name.”

“Sykes. Bill Sykes.”

He held his hand out to her, and she accepted the handshake. He took the chance to give her another look over, and realized; yeah. She was worth trapping. He threw his stuff into the car, before turning to look in her direction.

“You have plans for lunch?”

“No, why?”

“Feelin’ generous today. Assuming you can spare me some company.”

She looked hesitant, studying him and his ride. If he wasn’t rich, it would’ve been ‘hell no’. But she was, like many, allured by his obvious, flagrant weath.

“I mean...yeah, sure. Why not?”

Little did she know, she was digging the hole deeper and deeper.

-------------------------------------------

It had gotten WAY later into the night than he planned. He had meant to only spare an hour or so, but he found himself taking well into sunset. By the time they left the place, she was hooked, lined, and sinker, laughing and holding onto his arm as they walked back to his car. He opened the passenger side door for her, motioning for her to hop in.

“You want a ride back to your place? You DID have a bit to drink.”

She nodded, getting inside, practically giddy.

“Yeah, I can tell you how to get there, I think.”

“Good, good.”

He shut the door after her, and hopped in himself. He put on his seatbelt, and lit up a cigar. He hadn’t had a good smoke all day, and it felt good to finally get one in. He let her guide him to her house, and made a mental note of just where she lived. The drive was but a simple action, but it was a clever, discreet way of knowing just where to find her. He stopped right in front of her place, put the car in park, and exhaled the smoke into the car’s interior.

“You know, you put me in a real, real good mood. How about I do the same for you?”

She looked at him, confused, before he pulled out his wallet, and brought out a good chunk of cash. THAT sobered her up. Her first instinct was to clearly reach for it, but she stopped herself.

"What...is this for?"

"Spending money. Something for you to play around with, invest in stuff, whatever ya want."

"That’s...lots of money. A...LOT of money. You just carry that with you? You don’t think you’ll get mugged or something?”

“That doesn’t happen. Trust me on that.”

He chuckled. There were attempts, MANY attempts in fact, but...well. Didn’t end well, let’s keep it at that. She looked down at the stack, and he knew she was so close to being in his web. Just one movement of the hand. One moment of indulgence. And she fell for it. She took it from his hand, and counted it in her hand. The more she counted, the more lost she seemed to get, clearly in disbelief.

“Twenty five...t-thousand. That’s seriously how much this is?”

“Right on the dot. Now go on, get outta here. Sure I’ll bump into ya again, Doll.”

When she helped herself out of the car, he chuckled, and pulled out of the driveway. Soon enough made it home, where Roscoe and Desoto looked up at him, clearly wondering where he had been. It WAS a bit past their usual treat time. Fishing some out of his pockets, he tossed them towards his eagerly awaiting pups. He sighed as he sat down at his chair, leaning back a bit, and blowing rolls of smoke into the air.

“You boys ain’t gonna believe today’s catch. A real cute thing, you have no idea. Imma give her the usual week. Desoto.”

He snapped his fingers, and the mutt obeyed promptly, getting out of bed and sitting at his side. He allowed Sykes to run his big, firm hands through his fur, and thumbs rubbing at the tips of his ears. His master seemed VERY pleased by his new catch today, he almost never got special pets like this.

“You guys are gonna love her. Because If I don’t get a bite out of her, you two will.”

--------------------------------------------------------

He waited in his car, headlights off as he awaited her to return from work. He decided to take all this time to get back to some calls, rather than just sit here with his thumbs up his ass. 

“No. No. Swear to god ya bunch of morons- no. Take the teeth out BEFORE ya dump him. So what if he screams? Well ya in the warehouse right? Aight, ya gonna be fine then.”

His associate kept talking on the other line, but Sykes didn’t listen. He was too distracted by his hounds in the back, who were now fully sitting up and looking out the window. His dogs were a pain, but at least they were smart.

“Yeah listen, imma call ya back. Figure it out.”

He then saw her. She was even carrying the same purse he bought her. He waited till she went to her front door, before turning on the headlights, nearly blinding the poor thing. He stepped out of the car, hands out as if he was being welcoming.

“Aye, there ya are doll! Been a while!”

She seemed confused for a minute, but as he stepped closer, it clicked.

“Sykes, right?”

“Yeah, knew ya wouldn’t forget me. I didn’t forget ya in the slightest.”

He walked up to her, and leaned against the door, pinning her between a rock and a hard place. She shrunk a bit, before looking down at the floor. She had dropped her keys. Just before she could make the motion to reach for them, he covered it with the bottom of his shoe. He leaned down, blowing plumes of smoke into her face, making tears swell in her eyes.

“So, where’s my payment?”

“Payment?”

Of course she was confused. They always were. As if money was free in this world. He let the cigar roll in his mouth, before nodding.

“Yeah, my payment. You took a loan from me, doll. I need it back.”

“I didn’t know that was a loan! You didn’t say-”

“Little girl, nothing in this world is free, money included. Now, where is it? If you got it upstairs, I’ll go with ya to get it.”

Her little eyes looked so frantic under his gaze. He just needed to hear those words. Words that from any other mouth, would make him a very unhappy man.

“I...don’t have that kinda money.”

That was all he needed. He grabbed her by her arm, and yanked her to follow. She would’ve made a dash for her keys, had Roscoe not nipped at her heel, forcing her to back away. Turns out two barking dogs made for quite the deterrent. Sure, she struggled, screaming as his hand slapped over her mouth, but that didn’t matter. He managed to pull her away, and nearly threw her into the car. Desoto was a good boy, using those big, pearly whites to keep her there in pure fear.

“Roscoe, fetch.”

Roscoe went for the door, grabbed the keys, and placed them into his master’s hand.

“Good boy. Now get in.”

He waited till his other pup jumped into the back, before he went to the driver’s seat, and locked the doors. He adjusted his rearview mirror, and caught a glimpse of her scared little eyes. Yep. She was already worth every penny.

----------------------------------------------

“Don’t look at me like I’m a bad guy, sweetheart. You understand, ain’t nothing free. I fancy myself a good guy, but not good enough to just hand out money like that.”

Roscoe and Desoto circled her like vultures. She didn't even NEED to be tied up like this, he just liked the assurance, and the view. Like a little doe, she was still, powerless, and scared.

"I didn't know-"

"What you don't know, CAN kill you. I'm sorry, I know it ain't fair. But life is like that. Fortunately for you, I'm a very compassionate man. We can discuss methods of payment. Any family money?"

She shook her head, seeming to be a BIT distracted by Roscoe's sharp teeth. He gave a sharp inhale, shaking his head.

"Clearly YOU don't have the money, right? No 'under the sofa' cash?"

Another shake of her head. His fingers tapped against his table, shaking his head in clear disappointment. 

"Oh. I REALLY don't like your options now, Doll. Ya got two choices."

She squirmed a bit, stiffening as Desoto's teeth bared against her. He lifted his hands up a bit, and snapped his fingers. Roscoe followed the command, and dashed right for her, barking and frothing at the mouth. The weight of his body sent her falling, with the chair slamming onto the floor. He pinned her down, barking and covering her face in drool, teeth BARELY missing her own skin. 

Oh how she screamed. How she begged for mercy. How her legs thrashed as she tried in vain to get away. He let her sit there until he was certain there were tears in her eyes. Then he stood up, and slowly walked over to her, heavy footsteps clanking against the hard floor below them. He snapped his fingers, and Roscoe heeled, taking a seat next to his fellow fido. He squatted down to her level, blowing smoke into her already irritated face. He liked crybabies.

"That's option one. I'm assuming you don't want that."

She shook her head, sniffing. He rolled the cigar in his lips, before he lifted her face up with his hand, and pushed her chin down, forcing her mouth to open.

"Option two. You could provide me with a few...services. Then we can forget ALL about the pesky little debt you have with me. You're a pretty little thing, I'd be willing to let you work it off. I mean, you'd survive If I bit you, rather than my boys here. Not to mention if you're sweet 'nuff, I'll un do those pesky ropes of yours."

She clearly thought about it, but her mind was foggy, her eyes hurt, even her lungs felt sore from the second hand smoke. But, just as he suspected, she nodded. A huge grin came over his face, and he held onto the chair, pulling her off the floor.

"Alright sweetheart, let's EARN your freedom here. Open that pretty mouth for me."

He held onto her face as he pulled in, pushing that thick, rich smoke right into her mouth. All while his tongue slid into her mouth, grazing against hers. He took his time, getting a good, firm kiss out of her. He only pulled away when he needed to breathe. She needed it too, starting to fall into a coughing fit. It was cute. He put out his cigar on the ashtray, letting it sit there.

"Mm. You taste good. Damn good."

He undid his belt buckle, and whipped himself out. He turned her face at him, but with a bit of a...heavy hand, he pressed his cock against her face.

It was precious, watching such an innocent face under his thick cock. She whined a bit as he pushed her face into him, nearly smothering her with not only his dick, but his hairy, hairy balls.

"Open up for me Doll, nice and sweet. And don't you bite me. You'll regret it, trust me."

This time she seemed fairly willing, opening her mouth with not much more than a wince. He grabbed onto that pretty, pretty hair of hers, and pulled, really shoving her onto him.

"Oh that's the ticket, honey. Right there. Can feel that little tongue of yours."

He pushed himself fully, and held himself there, till he felt her gag, just like a good girl. He pulled away, watching her pant, lips covered in her own drool, and chest heaving. She was about to speak, before he shoved his balls right into her mouth, head tossed back in content. When was the last time he had his balls sucked by a cute, willing (somewhat anyway) little thing like her? He kept his fat, firm fingers in between her hair, really making a mess of it. Beautiful, poised girls were all swell, but cute, messy girls were such fun playthings. He granted her a bit of mercy, pulling away, while still pumping his cock.

"Mmm. You're a good little girl, ain't ya? Pretty too. I was gonna really put you through the ringer, but you're too damn precious NOT to be opened."

Not needing any scissors, he yanked at the ropes, making them snap under the force of his grip. He lifted her off of the seat, putting her on his desk, and using his big, strong hands to part those nice looking legs of hers. She was clearly hesitant, being felt up by essentially a stranger, but he didn’t care. Long as she didn't fight him, he could give less of a damn. He tore off her skirt, and took a gander of her panties. It was hot, knowing those lacey undergarments were paid for by HIM.

"Cute set here, Doll. Real, real cute stuff."

He took a hold of her ass, and pulled her closer to him, pressing himself right against that nice, cute fabric. With his free hand, he tugged at her shirt. Just because he was hungry, didn't mean he couldn't be a bit refined.

"Shirt, bra, off. Case you wanna keep your outfit in one piece."

He saw her hands tremble, as if she was confused. He gave another tug, and she seemed to finally get the hint, pulling her clothes off. She was worth the wait, honestly. Hell, he was so excited, he took his own shirt off, laying it as carefully as he could off to the side of the desk (it was hard to keep your shit neat when you wanted to be messy). He dug his fingers into her hair again, and yanked her into another kiss, this time really pressing himself against her. It wasn’t just their bank accounts that differed, it seemed. Where she was soft, helpless, he was firm, foreboding against her. He loomed over her, nearly suffocating her with not only his greedy lips, but his large, hairy, heavy frame. He pulled her away for a moment, ignoring the way she winced. He was pretty heavy handed, especially when it came to such a darling looking thing. He started to roll his hips into her, pushing his tip right against her clit. He liked the way she jumped every time, liked the way her toes seemed to curl. 

“You’re gonna handle me REAL well, girlie. I can tell. You’re really just a kitten, ain’t ya?”

His hand cupped at one of her breasts, kneading and pulling at the flesh. He was heavy handed with her, using enough force to make her wince. Not his fault she had a cute pair, with a face to match. He would sit there and play with them till they were nice and raw, but he wasn’t sure his cock would handle this much stalling. He hooked his finger into her underwear, and pulled them off. They were pretty much soaked, and something about that was just so charming to him. He let go of her hair, and groped her pussy, palming at her wet, warm folds. She held onto his hand, writhing under his firm grip. He pulled his hand away, letting her whimper as he checked out just how much she left on his hand. Needy little thing, it seemed. He slapped that hand over her mouth, and pushed himself right inside. You’d think he’d give her just the tip, get her used to his size.

You’d be wrong.

He pushed himself fully inside of her, balls deep, and watched her shake. Not that he blamed her. He was a big guy, afterall. He kept his hand over her mouth, despite how much she clawed at his hand. He held her like that, not moving a single muscle until she decided to settle down. He pulled his hand away, watching as her own drool (along with her own fluids) smeared over her delicate little mouth. She looked at the cock stuff inside of her, before looking at his face. He was expecting some kind of retort, some kind of insult, maybe even a slap to the face, stuff he was used to.

“You’re a terrible, terrible man.”

He opened his mouth to give her a life lesson (one he gave everyone when they barked that at him), when she suddenly flung herself at him, nearly smashing her lips against his own. That...was a first. But he was NOT complaining. He grabbed the back of her head, and returned the kiss with fervor, letting her moan right into his greedy, greedy mouth. Laying her right onto her back, he started to slam himself right into her. He had no idea how his desk supported his weight, especially when he was acting damn near belligerent on his new toy, but god was he glad it did. Especially since his new toy seemed just as excited as he was now, running her hands through his absolute mess of chest hair, and even locking her legs around him, as if she didn’t want him to leave. He parted the kiss, panting huskily against her lips. She moved not an inch, in either obedience, or the fact that his strong, fat hands were still holding the back of her head, as if he was scruffing a mutt.

“You’re taking me real nice, doll. You feel nice and tight, and you’re feeling me up like you actually like me.”

She didn’t seem to be focusing on his words for a moment, but rather keeping her focus on his big, hairy tummy. Not that he cared, he favored looking at her tits moving in sync with his thrusts. He favored watching the lewdness in her eyes, he favored knowing that her ravenous pussy leaked all over his desk. All of these he favored, over her actually meeting his eyes (Sykes wasn’t a real romance type, case you haven’t guessed). He let her continue her grubby little hands as he lowered his face right to the nape of her neck. He could tell that she liked hearing him talk, given the way she seemed to pull at his hair every time his breath brushed against her ear.

“It’s gonna feel so good when I cum right in you. You’re already handling me so good, you’re already gonna cum yourself. I can see it. I can see it plain as day, you wanna cum on my cock. Even if I’m a bad, bad guy, you want me doll. And that’s SO sweet of ya, really.”

He could tell she was trying to give him a bit of a fight. Just a little bit of one. She had such a mean little scowl about her, as if she refused to let him see her cum. Unfortunately for her, he always took what he wanted. And after just a few more thrusts, after taunting her with his sweet, sweet voice, and after grabbing her so tightly she bruised, she came. She shook something fierce as he fucked her right through it, relishing in her cries of ecstasy. He was used to screams. Screams of mercy, of pain, but hearing one from such a cute little dame cumming for him, it was just so refreshing. She pushed his face away, only to bury her teeth right into his big, meaty neck. Most bites tended to happen on his hand, so feeling it here was just something else. He didn’t have a chance in hell. With a swear under his lips, he came. He forced her to keep still, pumping cum right inside of her. Even as it trickled out of her, he didn’t seem to quit. He wasn’t timing it, but he knew he lasted a damn good minute before he finished.

“Shit.”

Was his only response. A simple, satisfied swear. One that helped ease all the tension in his poor, old body. His stomach rested on hers as he panted, ever so slowly calming down from a damn good high. She was quite a vision herself, covered in sweat and bruises. Pretty thing. She forced herself to swallow, before speaking, wearily.

“We uh...square, right?”

That made him laugh. He shook his head, leaning over to his discarded jacket, and pulling out a cigar. He lit it up, taking a good, deep inhale, right before looking down at her.

“Honey, that was a damn good fuck, really it was. But that was NOT worth twenty five thousand. You still got a bit of work ahead of ya, Doll.”

He watched her wince as he tapped his cigar, letting the ashes fall onto her exposed skin. Yep.

She was a keeper.

[ashknife]

The Mushroom Girl (1st Draft)

Well, it’s about time to bring some writing over. I will do this slowly as I have time. Most of these will need extensive work done.

This piece features Sophie Rose Beauchene, the daughter of a successful book publisher. What she wants in life is not what her parents want for her.

Sophie tore through her wardrobe. She had many fine dresses. Some were made with lace, some made of fine silk, and others simply works of master tailoring. For a special occasion such as today, they may as well have been sackcloth. Clad only in underwear, she pulled out different tops and bottoms and modeled them in the mirror. She discovered many combinations for future engagements, but nothing worked as she wanted. The one outfit she needed was nowhere to be found, and everything else was far too formal and pricey. She finally found a pair of slacks and a shirt with soft pink and white stripes. It looked like leisurewear for afternoon tea. It was the best she could do. She sighed like a drunk war veteran.

“Mademoiselle?” came a knock at the door.

“What?” she called out.

“Are you dressed yet? It’s been two hours. Your breakfast is cold.”

“I’m almost ready, Francine,” she said.

“Very good. I will inform your mother. She is getting impatient,” Francine reported.

Sophie sighed again. There would be another lecture for wasting her time. She couldn’t help it if she didn’t have all she needed to make a good impression. Those impressions were important. They led to opportunities. Her father was very careful to teach her that. Even at age ten, it wasn’t too early to start making those good impressions. So what if it took hours to get this right? It was time well-spent. Only, she couldn’t find the right outfit for their visitor, so the time was wasted anyway. She could already imagine Madame Beauchene’s lady-like irritation rolling out of her mouth. Sophie punched the wardrobe with a childish grunt.

She was halfway into a follow-up kick when something in the back dislodged and fell to the wardrobe’s floor. She made a little skeptical squeal as she reached for the tardy garment. This was it. This is what she was searching for. She grabbed the pink-striped shirt and modeled it with the newfound pair of overalls. Perfect! With this, she would be ready for mushroom hunting at a moment’s notice. Given the new mushroom section in the estate garden and the varieties of fungi growing around the mansion grounds, surely there would be an opportunity to do a hunt with their guest, the brilliant Dr. Mario Girvin, mycologist.

Within minutes, she emerged from her room in her preferred outfit with her maroon hair hastily brushed. She grazed over her cold breakfast like a starved horse, going for the fruits, pastries, anything that was already in small pieces. She smothered a neatly folded napkin with her face, threw it back on the tray with an overly ceremonious show of grace and refinement, and ran down the hall still chewing on a strawberry.

Madame Beauchene stood dutifully outside the study. Her elegant, professional dress suggested a different sort of meeting than Sophie expected. Adding to this hunch was a large scowl dominating her powdered face.

“Sophie!” she hissed. “Look at you! Francine…”

The maid, who was standing nearby, promptly produced a handkerchief. Madame Beauchene yanked it into her possession, licked it, and scrubbed her daughter’s face while Francine brushed crumbs off.

“Seriously, daughter, you could have spent time last night worrying over your clothes. Now we have to spend even more time making you presentable.” Sophie’s scalp tingled as long fingernails corrected her rushed hair job.

“And…” Madame Beauchene started before taking a second, hard look at Sophie’s attire. “Actually, never mind. You actually showed some forethought for once. Maybe you are starting to grow up. I’d rather you get those rags dirty.”

“Good morning, mother,” Sophie said as she rolled her eyes. Then she yelped as Madame Beauchene boxed her ear.

“Don’t talk back to me, young lady. This business will be your empire one day, sooner than you think. You will learn to act properly.”

“Yes, mother. Sorry, mother,” she mumbled.

A weathered, well-tanned old man in a white suit emerged from the foyer stairs down the hall with the assistance of Jacques, the butler. The man wore a clean straw hat and leaned on a white cane in his right hand as he walked. He used the cane as if it were a part of his body. His limp was barely noticeable. He wore the joyful little smile of a life well-lived, and his eyes were full of that same life. His joy grew just a bit brighter as he approached the ladies.

“Madame Beauchene, it is good to see you, mon amie,” he said with open arms.

Madame threw the handkerchief behind her, which Francine expertly caught and hit. The lady opened her arms and gathered the old man in a polite hug.

“Good morning, Dr. Girvin,” she said a bit brighter than normal. “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

“Yes, Madame, the Lostani mountains are always a beautiful sight. And this must be your daughter?” he indicated toward Sophie with his free hand.

“Yes, this is Sophie,” she said. Sophie curtsied the best she could in her overalls and extended her visibly shaking hand.

“I am Sophie Rose Beauchene. I am pleased to meet you, Dr. Girvin,” she said with all the awkward nervousness she couldn’t hide. Dr. Girvin laughed, knelt in front of Sophie, and clasped his hands around hers.

“I am pleased to meet you, too, Sophie. Now, there’s no need for nerves. We are already good friends here, yes? In fact, I can already see you’re already dressed for the main event.” His eyes grew a little brighter in anticipation of his little hunt. Sophie couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Until then, here’s a specimen you don’t get to see around here often.” He let go of her hand. In her palm was a mushroom picked from the eastern islands.

“Lentinula edodes!” she breathed. “I’ve always wanted to get that in my collection! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Go put that in your...collection,” Madame Beauchene said as she valiantly hid her disgust. “Dr. Girvin and your father need to discuss business.”

“Yes, mother,” Sophie said as she purposefully walked a normal pace back to her room. She closed the door behind her gingerly before sprinting to the spare closet and throwing that door open.

Inside were shelves of several varieties of edible mushrooms. To each side were carefully dried and preserved samples of other mushrooms, many of which bore notes of faraway places where Sophie was allowed to travel. She knelt and retrieved a sample bag and a card from a box of supplies. She carefully wrote the name and species of the shiitake mushroom on the card, placed it in the bag, and pinned the bag to a free spot on the wall. She then grabbed a small straw basket with holes woven into it, placed the mushrooms in it, and hung it up near an open window to dry them out.

She surveyed the mansion grounds outside the window recalling every place where she could find fungus. The good doctor would surely know of even more places where she could discover more samples. There was something weird, alien, about fungi that tantalized her imagination. They grew like plants and spread like diseases. There was something animalistic about their behavior. If only she could grow up faster and run away to some school that would teach her more, maybe she could even find uses that would satisfy even her father’s business.

“Mademoiselle,” Francine said as she knocked at the door.

“Coming!” Sophie said as she jumped, nearly knocking over her new prize. She held up her hands and bowed slightly in supplication to the angry mushroom spirits inhabiting the basket before leaving.

-------

Sophie carefully crawled under the mansion, flashlight in one hand, and basket in the other. The mushroom hunt two years ago with Dr. Girvin was educational. Her collection of samples expanded twofold within a month after that hunt, and she learned many ways to keep samples as well as grow more of her own. She grew past collecting just anything she could find. She was now on the hunt for rare species.

She learned through one of Dr. Girvin’s books that truffles grew underground under different circumstances, though they were difficult to find without a sensitive sense of smell. For months, she crawled through the surrounding forest and under all the buildings on the mansion grounds, but she had yet to find one. Today, however, would be different. Jaques received new garden tools recently, and Sophie was sure he would not miss his old rusty hand trowel. She could finally properly dig for her treasure. Madame Beauchene would be thrilled her nails wouldn’t be so caked with dirt.

She made several small holes near wooden supports that went into the ground, but nothing came up. More random holes dotted the open ground, also with no luck. Perhaps she needed to dig more than a few inches. Something in her said making holes like that near the house supports might not be a good idea, but perhaps some deep holes in the forest might yield something. Maybe that was the ticket. She started to crawl her way out, but then she suddenly stopped.

She could feel it. It was a faint twinge, a slight buzz of the mind. The ground in front of her held something. Beads of sweat formed all over, and she shivered from the sudden chill. Something was definitely there. She grabbed the trowel and dug quickly. The buzzing grew a little stronger. She slowed down a bit, hoping not to accidentally slaughter whatever specimen she found. About half a foot down, she found it. A silver mushroom the size of a baseball. It crackled with blue sparks every so often. She held it up to her face, eyes wide and mouth agape. The buzzing turned into tingling. Faintly, she could see webs of blue lines darting this way and that, pulsing with some energy. Most of them converged onto this one mushroom.

Her heartbeat quickened. Her breathing came close to hyperventilation. She let out shy bursts of laughter, not sure if she should laugh freely, cry, or remain silent in dire reverence of the event. Slowly, laughter won out as she battled to keep her hands still.

“T-t-t-tuber m-magicae!” she half-shouted in between bouts of laughter. She stumbled upon the diamond of mushrooms, one of if not the rarest breed of fungi on Paradigm. Fungus infused with the power of the leylines. Just touching it was a gift. In history, Sophie would be known as the fifth human to see actual leylines, just like the Jotunn. She found a magic truffle, and the mushroom she found was worth more than twice the combined wealth and assets of the Beauchene Publishing Company.

Just then, she grew still and silent. She looked all around her, searching for suspicious onlookers. After several tense minutes, she gently hugged the truffle, gave it a slight peck, dusted off  the bottom of it the best she could, and took a tiny bite of it. The flavor was incredibly pungent, like a strong cheese. When she swallowed it, her body suffered a major jolt as if she had been shocked. She went blind for a few moments. When her vision returned, she could see the leylines in addition to her normal vision, only they were now a faint white.

She giggled as she put the mushroom into a sample bag. Not many get to try rare mushrooms like that. She needed to show Monsieur Beauchene what she found. He would be thrilled to hold such a priceless treasure.

Monsieur Beauchene was busy supervising a crew making renovations to the mansion gardens. He didn’t bother looking up from his plans as he instructed her to walk as her noisy footfalls approached him.

“Hello, dear,” he said absent-mindedly.

“Father! You have to see this!”

He looked up and nearly choked on his air. Sophie stood before him in her overalls covered in dirt and mud holding the mushroom to his face. From the look on his face, she may as well have presented him with a dropping from his dog.

“Sophie, what are you doing?” he demanded. “I have told you over and over again not to go out digging like that. It’s unhealthy, unladylike, and you are certainly a target for kidnapping for our enemies!”

“But, it’s a magic truffle!”

“Magic truffle? Now you’re having delusions of grandeur! I am certainly making the right decisions today, that’s for sure.” He yanked the mushroom out of her hands, crushed it, and threw it to the side, which his dog, a little toy poodle, chased after. Then, in one swift motion, he brought that hand back across her face with a loud smack.

It took a few moments for Sophie to register her surroundings again. Her body tingled again, now with fear. She was painfully aware of the sting on her cheek and the man in front of her. The din of the garden crew seemed to be extra clarified as they continued to work.

“That horrid closet of yours is cleaned out and now holds proper clothing. That mushroom display here is also gone,” he said.

“But what abo--” she started.

“He’s dead. Passed away last night in his sleep. He won’t be viewing it any longer, and we don’t need that display anymore, anyway. We have a strong relationship with his university publishing their books.”

The toy poodle made a high-pitched screech. Both looked down to see it convulse violently before dying next to the remains of the mushroom, its last meal.

His face nearly blood red, Monsieur Beauchene grabbed Sophie’s shirt and pulled her to him.

“You. Will. Give. Up. Your. Foolish. FANTASIES.” Each word came with a slap across her face, after which he threw her to the ground. “Starting tomorrow, you will begin studies in business and trade. You will be too busy to deal with such low brow interests best left to peasants and low-lives.”

He left the gardens as he called for Francine. A tense argument followed that ended with a clear, “You’re fired!”

Sophie slowly started picking herself up. A hand behind her grabbed the back of her shirt, speeding the process and leading her to her bathroom. Madame Beauchene lectured Sophie along the way about the ways of proper women. Upon reaching their destination, the mother threw the child into the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and demanded she be rid of her filth within the hour, or there would be further consequences.

--------

Angry hands dove into the warm, sudsy water and pulled out a saucepan. Sophie gritted her teeth as she scrubbed the remnants of old soup off of it, and then she smashed it into the sink full of pots awaiting a rinse. Even being eight years ago, the memory felt no less raw. She cursed under her breath as she punished the soap off the pots through hot tears. Though she could barely see the sink before her, the faint white leylines let her see what she was doing. It was a hard but useful skill she taught herself.

The bell jingled as the front door of Le Petit Fleur flew open. She quickly wiped her tears and composed herself.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said quietly.

Behind her, what sounded like a wooden crate landed on the counter.

“I found these at the market today,” came Alex’s voice.

“What?” she asked as she turned around. On the counter was a case full of lentinula edodes. Her stomach churned a bit, not sure if she was happy to see these or not.

“Shiitake,” Alex said. “Fresh from the eastern islands. I think you said one time that you liked making a soup out of them.”

Bless this boy, he remembered something, and without an argument. That seemed odd in itself.

“But, why?” she asked.

Alex concentrated really hard before he answered.

“Because you’re our, uh, petty champ, uh, pigeon?” he said.

Sophie mouthed the words quizzically as the heat built up inside her again.

“Get out,” she blasted with a commanding finger pointing the way. Alex did not waste time following those orders, though he looked perplexed at what was going on. Sophie chunked mugs out the door after him, which smashed furiously onto the street. She then grabbed the case of shiitake mushrooms with criminal intent.

“Petty champ pigeon, huh?” she said as she contemplated what to do with the offending mushrooms. “I’ll show you something petty, you little sh--”

She froze and looked down at the mushrooms. Petty? Petty? Little? Petit? Champ pigeons? She put the case down as she mouthed the words again, over and over. She then snorted and doubled over in laughter. She fell onto her butt, and for ten minutes, she wallowed in her newfound mirth. When she could finally breathe and compose herself, she climbed back up, wiped her tears again, and finished the dishes so she could clean the mushrooms.

Later that evening, Alex quietly came in with his unit and hid behind a menu. The others noticed but said nothing, figuring it was more of the same as they talked about the day’s classes. Sophie took their table, as she normally did, got their round of drinks, and as she was about to leave, she knelt beside Alex.

“Je suis ton petit champignon, oui?” she whispered in his ear. She could feel the heat of his face as he tried not to laugh at himself.

“Lo siento,” he replied. “I can’t pronounce Vigntian.”

“T’adore,” she said, patting his head as she went to fill their orders.

Tonight, they would get the best soup in the house. More tears came. If only she could serve Monsieur and Madame Beauchene the same.

[the-foxes-fangs]

I Wish I Was the Moon: Epilogue Pt. 3

Read the fic here and interludes here

Tagging @otomediary, @you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age, @louveau, @wingedtreecookiesludge with a special shout out to @vhaena who has been graciously waiting for this particular part of the story

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He toweled himself dry meticulously, took stock of the austere little room he had been given and allowed himself a solitary sigh of frustration. He had expected Kenshin to have his little revenge for Sasuke but it was unpleasant seeing the flash of trepidation in her eyes just the same.

He went to sit on the veranda and stared idly out into the well tended garden. The guard had told him to wait for an attendant to show him back to the audience hall for a welcoming banquet in a tone that told him he’d be catching up on his foot dangling for awhile. He had made some tea and found whatever was at hand in the kitchen, and had settled in to wait.

The rain had passed into weak afternoon sunshine that gave everything a freshly scrubbed look, with the grime of winter rinsed away. He watched a few white rabbits poking around the greenery, apparently quite tame.

Too tame to notice the narrow face of a small, equally white fox poking through a hole in the wall that had been widened by the storm. He sat quite still, observing the little drama unfold as it squeezed its thin body through and slunk quietly and cunningly toward a particularly oblivious rabbit.

The fox looked bedraggled and more than a little hungry, which was probably why it didn’t notice the maid who came around the corner and catching sight of it gave chase with broom in hand.

“Get away from Lord Kenshin’s rabbits you vermin! Pest! Out! Get out!” She cried, chasing the poor creature around the garden until it squeezed back through the hole. She stomped away huffing, and silence fell on the garden again.

He glanced down at the dried fish he had been nibbling on, and sighed again. “I really am getting soft as hell,” he murmured to himself as he stood and made his way to the wall, crouching down to stick his arm through, fish in hand.

He waited patiently as the wet grass tickled his feet, and was about to give up when he felt a cold nose on his fingertips and smiled to himself as the food was snatched away. “Let’s both protect our reputations and pretend this never happened,” he said softly as he felt the brush of soft whiskers across his empty hand.

He withdrew his arm and rose to return to his seat. When he turned he found the creature had followed him, sitting just out of reach watching him with exceedingly hungry eyes.

“Well I’m not getting up again. If you want to eat you’re just going to have come over here.” He said, smiling as it cocked its ears and watched him with sharp, narrowed eyes.

“Do I look like I’m in need of a mangy fur?” He asked, waving a fish invitingly. The fox slunk forward cautiously, pausing to sniff the air and study him until it finally reached his feet and looked up at him expectantly. “Already plotting, I see. Well, I can respect that, but you’ve really got to learn the art of subterfuge, my little friend.”

He tossed it a fish, which promptly disappeared, as did the next two. “You know, Hideyoshi would’ve just given you a lecture on not giving up when things are difficult and sent you on your way, you’re lucky I’m such a soft touch.” He said softly, blinking in surprise as it jumped nimbly up onto the veranda, eyeing the basket of fish thoughtfully.

“Now see here, I respect your ambition, but these things require subtlety, my would be vassal.” He said, sliding the basket a little further out of its reach but passing it another fish. “First you earn my trust, and then you commit your inevitable betrayal. There’s an order to these things.”

He was withdrawing his hand when the maid came back around the corner muttering to herself, causing the fox to panic and dive for the nearest hiding hole, which happened to be right into his sleeve. He caught it by its scruff and folded his arms to his chest, slouching over as she passed by.

It poked its head out cautiously when he loosed his grip, but didn’t seem in any hurry to depart. “No. Absolutely not. That was strictly a fox to fox favor. Unless you’ve got a wishing jewel hidden in that muddy tail, no deal,” He said, shaking his head at it. He could feel its ribs as it shifted to look up at him questioningly.

“You audacious little beggar,” He said, laughing despite himself, as he laid the basket on his lap with a welcoming gesture. Upon closer inspection it was a young vixen, her tail waving happily as she devoured the food. She finished it and sniffed at his other sleeve inquiringly.

“Listen, just because I can’t taste it doesn’t mean I’m willing to share it. A little mouse made it for me.” He said, pulling out the carefully wrapped chimaki dumpling and unwrapping it and taking a bite. She had learned how to cook dumplings to the exact chewiness he preferred, despite swearing up a storm in the kitchen. He smiled at the memory and then looked at the expectant fox with a raised brow.

“Fine,” He said, dividing the remainder of the dumpling in half, “but I’m only sharing this because she’d want me to.”

The vixen licked her whiskers daintily after she finished her half, and looked at him with a curious sniff, before bounding down to make a dash back out of the garden.

“There’s just no loyalty in this world,” he complained with a laugh, and rose to return to his room and change into more formal clothes.

He heard the shuffle of vassals heading toward the hall as the shadows lengthened into early evening, and opened the door before the wide eyed attendant could knock. “Yes, fine, spare me the announcement. Let’s go,” he said with an impatient gesture and followed the man.

“…Lord Shingen and Lord Yukimura arrived just an hour ago! It will be like old times!” He heard an enthusiastic retainer say as they passed, and groaned inwardly.

Kenshin was bad enough, but Shingen was a canny bastard with a sense of humor and an axe to grind.

She was nowhere to be seen as he entered the hall, already abuzz with low conversation, which dropped even lower in his presence. Kenshin waved him over and gave him the seat his rank demanded with a curt nod of greeting.

“Well if it isn’t the great spy himself, out before sundown, even,” Shingen said with a broad smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“The peaceful life does wonders for one’s habits and health,” Mitsuhide replied smoothly, “How’s Kai treating you these days? No problems governing?”

“We’re still recovering from the occupation.” Shingen shot back, curtly.

Their exchange was cut short by the sound of excitement when she appeared at the door with Sasuke behind her, looking so lovely that for a moment everything else receded except the smile she gave him alone, and the light in her eyes as they met his as she came to take her seat at Kenshin’s side.

“Seeing a goddess grace us with her presence was more than reason enough to make the trip, but besides that, it’s delightful to welcome you as new family to an old friend,” Shingen said smoothly, elbowing a blushing Yukimura.

“Uh… what he said.” Yukimura mumbled and nodded.

“We’re not friends. I’m still going to kill you both.” Kenshin interjected with a frown.

“Now, now, let’s keep the conversation pleasant for the lady,” Yoshimoto admonished with an amused smile directed squarely at Mitsuhide.

She glanced between them with raised brows, until Sasuke leaned in to whisper something to her, handing her a flask to pour for Kenshin, who acknowledged her with a polite nod and filled her cup.

“Let’s drink to the princess of the Uesugi,” he said, and lifted his cup to a surge of noisy approval as all of his retainers followed suit and drained their cups. The general consensus appeared to consider it a score against the Oda to have adopted one of Nobunaga’s favorites.

Mitsuhide drank and gave her the flash of a smile, drinking in the sight of her in an elaborately beautiful formal kimono bearing the Uesugi crest. “Why, you make that drab shade of blue look positively lively, my dear.”

She laughed softly and looked him over approvingly as Kenshin glowered at him, hand drifting toward his sword.

“I think it’s a lovely shade of blue myself. Not so different from the one you favor,” she replied graciously, her expression neutral except for the faint rebuke in her eyes. “I’m honored to wear something so beautifully made.”

Kenshin relaxed and the color returned to Sasuke’s face as Shingen snickered into his cup and Yoshimoto watched with detached amusement. Yukimura clicked his tongue in exasperation as a maid brought Shingen a plate of sweets.

“I thought you promised–” he began, cut off by Shingen’s airy wave.

“Yuki, it’s an occasion! We’re here to celebrate!” Shingen said with a charming smile.

“Yes but you haven’t even eaten dinner yet!” Yukimura replied with a defeated sigh as the rest of their food was served.

“Ah, but we’re already drinking, and you know I can’t bear to drink without something sweet. Never trust a man who drinks without a snack, Yuki. He’ll stab you right between the ribs every time.” Shingen countered, glancing meaningfully at Mitsuhide.

“I’m not sure how that sugary garbage counts as a snack anyway, the only proper snack for drinking is a good pickled plum.” Kenshin said dourly.

“Nonsense! Sweets are the best with sake, isn’t that right, princess?” Shingen asked her with a flirtatious wink that set Mitsuhide’s teeth on edge.

“There’s merit in everyone’s personal preferences I’m sure,” she answered courteously, giving Shingen a polite but bland smile as they began to eat.

“You’re my daughter as of tomorrow, you should take my side.” Kenshin said bluntly, holding his cup out to her.

“A lifetime of seeing the beauty of diversity will be difficult to overcome, I’m afraid,” she answered sweetly, “but I’m deeply grateful and honored at the favor you’re showing me.”

Mitsuhide kept his expression fixed, but felt a surge of pride at her adroit navigation of a situation that was surely more than a little surreal for her.

“You should be grateful that someone with such a fine sense for diplomacy is even willing– what on earth are you doing to the food?” Yoshimoto said, recoiling at the sight of Mitsuhide mixing everything together in his bowl.

“Oh dearest me, I didn’t mean to shock your delicate sensibilities, my lord. This is simply the most efficient way to eat.” Mitsuhide said with a sharp smile.

“Well that’s just plain weird,” Yukimura muttered.

“I can, much to my dismay, confirm that lord Mitsuhide is acting entirely consistently and means no insult. He always eats that way,” Sasuke interjected with a despairing gesture.

“What was it you said, you’d rather not waste time eating when you could be drinking? I’m sure that you can appreciate the sentiment, lord Kenshin,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“I can respect a man who appreciates the finer points of a good brew.” Kenshin said, with the faintest hint of a thaw in his tone.

“Well if nothing else it will be fun to watch these two try to drink each other to death, which leaves me to bask in the company of a beautiful woman on a lovely moonlit night.” Shingen said, with a dreamy look in his eye.

“Why, bad or good, it’s all the same to me. As long as it’s cold in the summer and warm in the winter I’ll drink anything,” Mitsuhide said, pointedly ignoring the bait that Shingen was waving.

“That’s an insult to the art of brewing sake, you know,” Yoshimoto said, needling him in tandem.

“Is it? I rather think it’s a compliment. Those who make swill need to live just as much as those who make elixir.” Mitsuhide answered levelly.

“I’d almost like to see you two duel, just to see who could actually lift a sword,” Kenshin remarked dryly.

“The best victories are the bloodless ones, my lord.” Mitsuhide responded ignoring the flash of heat in his chest at the sight of Shingen leaning close to her to fill her cup and practically breathe down her neck.

“Eccentricity is novel for awhile, princess, but the peculiar soon becomes grating. A man can be unconventional without straying into the uncouth.” Shingen said rakishly.

“Bloodless? What kind of rot are you talking? There’s no glory in that!” Kenshin exclaimed with a sharp gesture.  

“I’ve always favored outsiders myself– the more everyone picks on and dislikes someone, the better I like them and the more I take their side,” she said demurely, and took an elegant drink.

Mitsuhide downed his cup quickly and hoped that they’d blame the flush on his face on the alcohol and not the lovesickness that had him firmly in its grip. He prided himself on his self-discipline and patience, but it was all he could do not to take her by the hand and drag her to the nearest bed to show his appreciation of her unnecessary but perfect defense of him.

“Here’s to outsiders,” he said quietly and raised his cup to her.  

“I always thought you were kind of a dummy, but that’s actually pretty nice.” Yukimura said, oblivious to the hangdog silence that had descended on the others.

“Yukimura, please don’t throw your life away like this.” Sasuke mumbled, holding his hand to his forehead despairingly.

Shingen flicked him hard on the forehead with a rueful smile. “Y-u-k-i what have I told you about how we talk to women?”

“Ow! Why would I listen to you? You flirt with anything that moves!”

“Well, the delivery was rough, but I appreciate the intent, lord Yukimura,” she said with a beneficent smile that brought a bright blush to his face.

“Well I’m glad to see that you can keep up with these fools.” Kenshin said, casting an approving glance at her with unusual softness in his sharp eyes.

“I learned from the best,” she answered with an affectionate nod at Mitsuhide.

“Why, that’s a bald faced lie, you were exactly this adept at getting your way from the moment I saw you,” he countered fondly.

“Watch your mouth, Akechi, think about who you’re calling a liar.” Kenshin said sharply, the ice back in his tone and face.

Sasuke sighed, shoulders sagging defeatedly. “They’re flirting, my lord. Trust me, this is that man at his sparkling best.”

“Hmmph.” Kenshin said, studying her happy expression curiously.

“Flirting as a concept has been buried in a shallow grave tonight, in that case.” Shingen said with a shake of his head.

“Someone explain why it’s fine when he calls her names, but I get a smack to the head!” Yukimura muttered moodily.

“There are certain cosmic mysteries best left unexplained, Yukimura.” Sasuke said, and patted his arm fondly.

[callofdiva]

it all works out in the end - ☀️ 🌙

warnings: a little bit of angstttt, some tears and a sad peter

happy valentines day everyone!! to celebrate you get some quality angst-and-fluff!

this is my submission for two things:

1. for @dtftomholland ‘s dollar valentine writing thing!

2. for @urbanhaz ‘s 1K writing challenge! ( congrats! )

this is dedicated to @euphoricholland , who was my assigned valentine! happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you enjoy!

“Please don’t walk out of that door.” —With Peter Parker

buckle up ladies and gentlemen

When Peter Parker had asked you to be his, he vowed to come through, to be the one person you could rely on to answer texts instantly, the one who could prove to you that not all guys your age went back on promises and ‘forgot’ about movie nights and split the check on dates at fancy restaurants.

But here you are, slumped against the headboard of your bed as the city of Queens grows ever darker outside your window. You’ve been waiting for a text all evening, waiting for a response to that message you sent Peter three hours ago, when you’d given up on your algebra homework and texted him asking if he’d be up for a movie marathon, keeping with the Friday-night tradition the pair of you had started long before he’d ever asked you out, long before you’d even stopped thinking that boys had cooties.

And you fell in love with him through one of those sacred movie nights, or, at least, you realized that you had fallen head over heels for the baby-faced boy with the contagious laugh and dumb-but-actually-adorable obsession with the Star Wars films.

And here you were, practically pulling your hair out over a stupid text you sent just a few hours ago. It’s probably dumb, you know, but with every minute that passes, the concern, tinged with annoyance, builds inside you until you’re nearly having a breakdown. You’re absolutely pissed, because, however unlike anything the Peter you fell in love with it was, you’ve grown accustomed to having your texts left unread, and dates cancelled at the last second, as it’s all he’s been doing lately.

You want to throw your phone at the wall, chuck it out the window and watch it fall five stories into the six o’clock rush traffic, let it shatter to pieces under the wheel of a taxicab.

Instead, you hurl it into your pillow, watch it hit the mattress and promptly slide between the headboard and the mattress itself, dropping onto the wooden floor below.

“Dammit,” you mutter, reaching down to retrieve it, flinching as the buildup of cobwebs and dust brush against your fingers. Gritting your teeth, you pull your arm back, phone now in hand, and wipe it against your sheets, to clear it of the dusty residue.

And somehow, that’s it for you. Without fully comprehending what your body is doing, you’re suddenly aware that your feet are now planted on the ground, phone in your pocket, and hand grasping the fabric of your jacket, which is hung across the back of your desk chair. So you let this sudden burst of frustration and anger carry you, letting your bedroom door slam behind you on your way to the front door of the apartment you share with your mom and sister.

The laces of your sneakers are untied, flopping everywhere as you storm down through the lobby of the building, off-white strings becoming more and more muddled as they’re trampled under your shoes, the New York sidewalks taking their toll, and you should care but you really don’t. You just want to walk the two blocks to May Parker’s apartment and get this over with.

On the way, you rehearse what you’re going to say to him. You’re only seeing red, yet every time you imagine yelling at him, it feels wrong. It feels wrong because you know you physically can’t. You know that you’d feel sick if you ever screamed at him like you sometimes wish you could. Because you knew that being screamed at by someone you loved hurt like hell, and you were nowhere near cruel enough to do that to Peter, no matter how badly he’s been screwing up lately.

You’re still muttering under your breath when you get to the building that May and Peter live in, still completely unsure of what you could do, what you could say, to fix this whole wreck. You take the stairs up, instead of the elevator, just so you have the time to feebly attempt to calm yourself, to take a deep breath and clear your head.

The anger has subsided by the time you stand at the door, fist raised to rap against the door. The rage has turned to doubt, in yourself and Peter, and the relationship, and you’re not sure that this is even an improvement. Because suddenly you feel vulnerable, like your relationship has been sinking for a while now, and Peter’s finally decided that it was time to jump ship.

Suddenly the door in front of you is pulled open, and Aunt May crashes full-on into you. She grabs your shoulder before you go crashing down, steadying you.

“Y/N! It’s been a while, huh?”

You nod weakly, suddenly becoming less sure of yourself, what you’re here to do.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart! I was just going to pick up the mail. Peter’s in his room, though!”

Ushering you inside, she steps back out the door.

“I’ll be back in a minute!”

And then you’re left standing in the entry of the small apartment, on the verge of a mental and emotional breakdown. It’s quiet, and you think Peter’s probably studying, although for what, you don’t know. As far as you know, there’s no upcoming tests that need to be studied for, let alone for Peter, who’s practically a genius.

But then you hear a creaking sound and you gather all the courage you have left and start toward his room. Almost exactly as you reach the door, which had been cracked open the tiniest bit, it suddenly clicks closed.

You knock softly on it, lower lip caught between your teeth. You can hear mumbled curses and scuffling, and then, “Give me a second, May! I-!”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. His voice washes over every nerve in your body, and suddenly you’re not nearly as upset as you were. Terrified? Yes. Frustrated? Not so much.

“It’s not May, Peter. Can I-can I come in? Please?”

He’s shocked that it’s you, taken completely by surprise, you know that simply by hearing the way the scrambling suddenly stops, then resumes, more frantic than before.

“Pete, I’m opening the door, alright?” You say it only partially as a warning, but more so as a promise to yourself, to keep yourself from turning the other way and sprinting out of the building.

And then you’re opening the door, and you see a half-naked Peter standing, red-faced, in the center of the room, hangers in the closet still swinging from... something he’d thrown in there less than a second before the door had opened.

But your eyes are fixated on the boy in front of you, and you wonder when, exactly, your boyfriend had bulked up like this. But you remember that the last time you saw him shirtless was months ago, even though you see him without a top nearly every time either of you sleeps over at the other’s. Guess that just goes to show how long it had been since he’d actually come through on his promises.

And he looks good, too. He has a six-pack now, and his biceps are giant. You swear, if you weren’t angry at him, you’d be all over him, no doubt. It takes everything in you not to throw yourself at him, to kiss him senseless, because, quite frankly, he’s hot. And it’s making you angry in the oddest way.

“Wha-what’re you doing here?” His eyes are everywhere but on you, his face red as he shifts uncomfortably.

“Pete, we need to talk. Badly.”

His eyes shoot upwards, finally looking you in the eye. Both of you know that conversations that are prompted by ‘we need to talk,” never end well. You’d be lying if you said you yourself weren’t terrified.

“Oh... What about?” He acts like he doesn’t know. Maybe he doesn’t, but if that’s the case, he’s the most oblivious person you’ve ever met. It’s obvious. Something’s been going very wrong and it needs to be fixed before the two of you start falling apart beyond repair.

“Peter, you... I— can you please put a shirt on first? I really can’t focus with you looking like that.” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and your face heats up.

He grunts in response, pulling a sweatshirt over his head before turning back to you.

“Tonight was supposed to be movie night, Peter, like every Friday. Wh-why didn’t you answer? Or at least tell me that you were busy, or whatever?”

Peter’s heart drops. Shit, shit, shit.

He was out on patrol, and he swears he was just about to head back to his apartment when he’d seen a group of older guys trailing a group of teenage girls. He’d made quick work of them, but the girls, terribly grateful for the hero who’d saved them from god-knows-what, had kept him, trapped in conversation, occasionally taking selfies and hugging him, for what was definitely too long.

“Babe, I... I’m so sorry, I lost track of what ti—.” He starts, only to be cut off by you.

“Peter, this is what’s been going on for weeks! Sorry just isn’t cutting it at this point, okay? You’d better have a goshdarn good explanation for ditching me like this, because I’m getting really goddamn tired of it, okay?”

He’s silent, thinking for a minute. “I...”

You sigh, looking down at your hands, picking at your cuticles to distract yourself from the tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“Nothing?” Your voice wavers, and you know he picks up on it. “Not even a lousy excuse? Wow. I thought you’d be better than this, Peter Parker. Really did. But turns out you’re like every other guy. The same ones you promised that you’d never be.”

“No, please! Y/N, I-I can’t tell you but trust me, I wish I could!” His own voice cracks in the middle, his eyes pink as he struggles to hold back tears.

“If you really wanted to all that badly, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” You look up at him once more before turning, reaching for the door handle. Forget watching movies, you’re ready to curl up in bed and cry for the rest of the night.

“Please don’t walk out of that door.”

His words are mumbled, but you hear them. You hear the sobs that are building inside his throat, knowing they’ll jump out at any second. He’s choking on his tears, his breathing heavy and thick.

It breaks you.

“I have to, Peter,” you sniff, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your shirt, turning back to him. “I have to or I’m worried that one of us will say something stupid and ruin everything.”

He takes a deep breath, looking up at you. Red eyes meet red eyes and it’s nearly too much. And you feel guilty now, guilty for being the cause of this breakdown he’s having.

“I’m... I’m Spider-Man.” It’s dead silent suddenly, aside from Peter’s sniff as he suddenly glances at the door. “Oh crap, Aunt May—!”

“She was on her way for the mail, you’re fine.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause. And then: “Aren’t you going to yell at me? For... for not telling you? About me being—.”

“I’m not going to yell at you. I’m not mad, Peter. And before you ask, I’m not disappointed, either.” You let out a watery laugh, and so does the boy across the room. “Yeah, I’d have loved if you’d... told me. But it’s your business, and you don’t have to share that with me, if you feel it’s the best option.”

“God, I knew I loved you for a reason.” He chuckles to himself, the tear-tracks on his cheeks contrasting starkly to his smile-wrinkled eyes. You don’t hear it all, but you definitely catch the word ‘love,’ and at first, you’re scared that he’s about to break up with you.

“What?”

He looks up wide-eyed, face dropping a bit. “Crap... that wasn’t a good time to say that, was it? That I-that I love you... when we’re talking about this serious stuff and—?”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, eyes meeting his again. “I love you so, so much. Can I... can I hug you?”

He nods, and his arms are wrapped around you in a second. He’s soft and warm and you missed this so much. You missed him.

“So, you said you’re actually Spider-Man? As in... the hot guy in the red suit?”

His face goes red, nodding gently, holding in a laugh. “Bu—! You didn’t-you didn’t know I was in the suit but you thought...it was hot? But I’m your boyfriend!? And—!”

You laugh, looking up at him teasingly. “Yeah, but it works out in the end doesn’t it?”

It works out in the end. Just like it always does for you two.

—

tagging for a signal boost:

@graciesmiles21 @hollandsosterfield @winter-soldatt @softscottlang @fratboievans @positiveparker @spideypeach (I think you said you wanted to be tagged in people’s writings whether they were mutuals or not) @philosopherofnothing @drunkpeach68 @sleepybesson @tbhhhhhhhhhh @mylovesweetpea @elizabethpaisley13 @euphoricholland @darlingxholland @marvelouspeterparker @spideyjlaw @badhollandfluff @underoos-tom @spidey-webbs @leiasfanaccount648 @hedwigthelegend @pleasantlyparker @cartwheelandfaceplant @butwhyduh @bluelalal @cap-steve-rogers @toms-darling @multiversefangirl19 @littlebookbengal @musiclover1263 @musicgirl234 @starksparker

[ndanya-qiri-ffxiv]

Nightmare - Slave to the Past

This one is sort of violent even by my standards. Just, gratuitous for no reason violence because that’s sort of who Aebbe can be at times. I didn’t go into any real detail, but still wanted to warn people. At the title implies, it is, in fact, a nightmare. 

----------

They had found her. The bruising on her cheek, her arms, her back and stomach were evidence enough of that. They had jumped her in Ul’dah, down an alleyway. Three thugs.

They were dead now.

She was not.

They had been stupid enough to keep a map to find their way back to their camp, where they were setting up the next ‘event.’  She’d found it now. Old, abandoned warehouse. Typical.

She surveyed the landscape. The ground was dried and cracked. The air was stale. The riverbed that the warehouse was built by was empty and dry. There was one guard posted, and he looked like he was drunk. Why should they be prepared? There was no reason for anyone to be here yet. They hadn’t invited the crowds to see the bloodbath yet.

She drew her blade and shrugged her shield from her back to her arm, and then walked with purpose toward the warehouse. She guard spotted her and drew his own sword, walking toward her unsteadily.

“Oi, you can’t be here. If y’want t’ see th’ show, come ba - urk,” the guard blinked, coughed, and spit up blood.

Aebbe had not paused nor broken stride, and had immediately run the blade into and through the man’s belly. He looked from the blade buried in his stomach, up to her, met her green-eyed gaze - and she smiled at him, a cold, cruel, and entirely too pleased smile. She yanked the blade back out of his belly and shoved him away, so he didn’t bleed on her any more than necessary.

He collapsed and she continued.

She yanked the front door open and stepped inside. The dozen or so workers froze and turned to look at her, wide-eyed. There was silence, until one of the more thuggish looking of the group spotted the blood splatter on her and her sword. He stalked toward her, drawing a wicked looking knife from his waist. “Th’ fuck did you do t’ Roric?” Aebbe glanced over her shoulder at the body of the guard outside, then back to the main closing the distance on her. She clucked her tongue before speaking, in a sweet sort of tone, “My - what I have I done?”

The man let out a guttural roar and raised his knife, lunging at her. She turned the attack away easily with her shield and swung her sword in the same motion, cutting through his arm at the elbow easily. The man’s roar turned to a scream and he stumbled to his knees, clutching at his stump.

Aebbe turned to him, walking toward him the same pace someone may walk through a park. She took a deep breath, taking in the copper scent of the blood, and then sighed dreamily. The man tried to squirm away from her, leaving a trail of blood behind him, “Th’ fuck do you want, lady?!”

“Two things. I want t’ know who’s in charge of this fucking thing and where he is.”

The man sputtered and shook his head, “I don’t know where th’ boss is! I don’t even know where he is!” He grunted as his back reached the wall. He’d run out of real estate to drag himself over, and was now stuck. Aebbe knelt down and set her sword down on the ground beside her, only to draw her hunting knife. She placed the blade against his throat, on the left side, “Wrong answer,” she said sweetly, drawing the blade slowly from left to right, slitting his throat. He reached out with his good hand to try to stop her, but did not have the strength.

She wiped the blade on the man’s tunic and then stood, turning back to the room at large. The remaining people were regular workers, staring at her in abject horror, frozen with fear. “Who is in charge, and where?” She called out to the rest of them, sticking her knife back into its sheath and lifting up her blade. No one answered, and a few backed away from her. She clucked her tongue, and growled under her breath, “Fuck it. Let’s kill everyone.”

There were no more guards to protect them. There was only the one exit, and Aebbe was between them and it. She did not hesitate, charging toward the remaining workers. She sliced through the first, stabbed the second. The screams were immediate, and did nothing to give her pause. She reveled in the sound, in the blood that soaked her armor and skin, in the smell of the gore that splattered on the walls and the floor.

A trail of corpses or mortally wounded lay behind her as she approached her last target. Aebbe grinned madly, eye sparkling with malice, when a voice called out to her. A familiar voice. A voice she had not heard in fifteen years.

“Aebbe…”

She turned slowly away from her last victim, who promptly slid down to a seated position against the wall, sobbing. Aebbe’s eyes fell onto the man before her. Tall. Green eyes. Dark hair. Her hand tightened uncomfortably around the hilt of her sword. Her eyes narrowed, and the sweetness of her voice was a chilling contrast to the scene around her, “Father dearest! However did you make your way here? You look well!”

She paced toward him slowly, though her weapon lowered. He stood his ground.

“What have you done, Aebbe?”

She paused and looked around. The floor was slick with blood and gore. She turned back to her father, smiling prettily at him, “I guess I’ve come a little undone, haven’t I?” The smile faded, and she regarded him coldly, “You’re in charge now, aren’t you? I don’t know how and I don’t care.”

She resumed her approach, and still he stood his ground. She sheathed her sword and drew her hunting dagger instead. She reached up and placed her blood-soaked hand on the back of his neck, placing the tip of her blade against his belly. He swallowed her, and she smiled again.

“Aebbe, I’m sorry -” He gasped as she pushed the blade forward, slowly but hard enough to break skin. He grabbed at her wrist, but she did not relent.

“You aren’t sorry. You are an asshole. You sold me,” she drove the dagger a little deeper, but then paused, looking at his chest. “You broke your daughter’s heart.” She yanked the dagger out and shoved him backward, toward a wall. He grunted when his back hit the wall, and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t allow him. She slapped her grimy hand over his mouth and hushed him gently, tapping the blade against his belly again, where the diaphragm was.

“Funny thing - it’s easy to break an emotional heart. Much harder to get to the physical one, with a dagger like this. Either directly between ribs,” she moved the dagger to where she could do so, poking firmly but not stabbing, “Or up underneath the ribcage and through. You need a long knife though…”

She paused, turning the blade vertically and pressing it against him. “Hm. Just short. I guess we’ll have to do some work.”

With that, she pressed the blade into his belly again, right at his diaphragm. He gasped and struggled, but she held fast.

“You have to go behind the ribs,” she said quietly, as she turned the blade vertically slowly. She continued to push the dagger, now upward. “And then go up.”

She got the knife up to the hilt and wiggled it around a little, but then clucked her tongue. “No heart. See? It’s not deep enough like this!”

She looked up at her father’s face. It was contorted in fear and pain, and tears ran freely down his cheeks, blood freely down his chin. She snarled.

“You do not get to cry. Not after what you put me through. You deserve so. Much. Worse.”

She accentuated each word with a further shove of the knife forward - and she felt it pierce his heart, just barely, as she finished her sentence. He froze, and then began to slide down the wall. He would suffer, but he not for much longer. She opened her mouth to speak, but felt a small hand grasp her shoulder firmly.

“Aebbe -”

Aebbe drew her blade from her hip and then stabbed it past her hip and behind her in a lightning quick motion, before the voice registered with her. She heard a pained and surprised gasp, and only then did it click.

“No. No, no,” Aebbe whirled, letting the blade go as she did - and met J’aqois’ gaze immediately. The miqo’te’s eyes were wide, ears pinned back to her head, and she sank slowly to her knees.

“Why..?”

“J’aq! J’aq, how did you - why are you even here?!” Aebbe sank to her knees with the other woman, reaching up to take the miqo’te’s face in her hands. She saw the life draining away quickly. J’aq murmured something, but Aebbe couldn’t catch it. Then, she was gone.

… and Aebbe jolted awake, gasping sharply, covered in a cold sweat. She had, in fact, been jumped by some thugs. She had, in fact, traced them back to their current base of operations. But she had set up camp, some good distance away, to rest and scout before approaching.

She sat up on her elbows on her sleeping back, gasped for breath. She knew J’aq was nowhere near her. She was here alone. She had been for the better part of the day, and into the evening. For long, long moments she sat in silence. Then, slowly, she stood to pack.

She would not face this alone.  

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Scarlet Fever Ch.3 Verity Queen

LoganLight, AO3

Summary:

An unexpected plan and an unexpected ally.

Notes:

I firmly believe that superhero names are inherently ridiculous. It's not because of the name that people think Ant-Man is cool. So I'm going to use Mister Bug until you like it!... Or someone tells me it's actually Monsieur Bug.

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Mister Bug shot upwards, avoiding Verity Queen's slashing. She turned in midair and shot at him with her red beams. He swerved to avoid them as she rolled onto her feet.

"I've squashed hundreds of thousands of impertinent flies in my career! You'll be no different!" Verity Queen ran up the sides of the buildings, shooting at him as she went.

"Ladybugs aren't flies!" Mister Bug objected as he used his yo-yo as a shield, indignant on behalf of his Lady. "They're beetles!"

He threw his yo-yo at her once she reached the rooftops, tripping her onto the tiles. Yes! He raced forward, stopping at a 'safe' distance to look for where the akuma might be hiding. She rose with a snarl and he instinctively flew back a bit.

The red butterfly mark flared across her face as she glared at him. She glanced at a chimney next to her, slashed once -cutting it clean through- and kicked.

"Whoa!" Mister Bug dodged as the entire, roughly car sized, chunk of building flew at him. He lassoed it before it hit the buildings across the street and set it down at ground level, careful not to squish any of the entranced civilians. He narrowly avoided another barrage of red beams.

"You're doing well," Plagg commented, appearing out of nowhere.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me!?" Mister Bug snapped from behind his shield.

"Sure," Plagg agreed. They didn't have time for this. He needed to speed things along. "I could blow her out like a candle and we watch her suffer simultaneous organ failure."

Mister Bug paled, yo-yo stalling and voice breaking. "L-let's not do that!"

"Duck," Plagg instructed.

He dropped down as Verity Queen sailed overhead. She landed on an awning and pointed one of her swords at him

"You won't be able to avoid Verity forever! The Truth will out!" She launched herself at him again.

He spun out of the way, narrowly blocking another beam as she passed. "Okay! That's it! Lucky Charm!"

A broadsword with a red and polka dotted handle, it's blade polished to a mirror finish, fell into Mister Bug's hands.

"... I'm not sure I get the point," he joked weakly, brandishing it in one hand and spinning his shield in the other.

A red beam struck his shield and he pushed himself out of it's path. Verity Queen launched herself from a rooftop at him and he dodged. She spun around and jumped at him from the other side. Again and again.

"Not sure what that sword's good for," Plagg observed as they dodged her attacks. "Ladybugs aren't really close range fighters."

Mister Bug swerved to avoid Verity Queen's swords and lassoed her as she passed. He used her momentum to slam her into a car.

"I don't think the sword is for swordplay," he thought out loud. "It's never that easy-"

"Look out!"

Mister Bug brought his Lucky Charm up just in time to parry Verity Queen's dual blades. She twisted mid-attack, wrapped her legs around his neck, turned so that she sat on his shoulders and lifted her swords to strike. He flew backwards and up, unbalancing her, then turned upside down and shot towards the hard concrete.

Verity Queen was a skilled opponent. Despite being out of practice Sabine Cheng had more experience than him. Fighting her on her level would have been difficult. It was difficult even with his flying powers.

Good thing he thought of using them.

He dislodged her hold on his neck, spun around and locked her arms in place from behind. Right before eating sidewalk he let go and turned up sharply. Verity Queen made a loud cracking sound that was definitely the concrete. She wobbled as she tried to stand.

Mister Bug took the opportunity to gaze intently at the sword in his hand. The hilt was unremarkable save for the spots. It's length and weight not quite right for him. His reflection staring back at him from the blade. Reflection... Mirror... Blade... "That's it!"

He rose up to put some distance between him and Verity Queen. She'd found her footing and was none too happy by the looks of it. He drifted a little to the left; he had to angle it right. "Hey, Verity Queen!" he mocked. "Want to hear about the time I tricked Ladybug into giving me another Miraculous?"

"You will not speak ill of my daughter!" she roared, a red beam accompanying her rage.

Mister Bug held up his Lucky Charm. The flat side taking the full brunt of the attack before reflecting it right back at Verity Queen. Her eyes widened in fear before taking on the same blank, red, glowing look as the rest of her victims.

"... Anyone else getting déjà vu?" Plagg asked as they approached the entranced villain.

Mister Bug dropped the few centimeters left to the ground and placed his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

"You okay, kid?" Plagg asked in concern.

"I... Yeah..." he breathed out. They'd beaten her. They'd beaten the supervillain. Adrien had never fought knowing Ladybug wouldn't be there to save him before.

Straightening, he stared at Verity Queen for a moment. "Where's your akuma?"

"In my ring," she replied without inflection.

Gently he grabbed her hand and pulled the ring free. Holding it between thumb and forefinger he squeezed. The akuma flew from the bent metal and he caught it easily.

Red mist covered Verity Queen and revealed Sabine Cheng. But her eyes remained a glowing red.

Mister Bug frowned as he looked from Plagg to his Lucky Charm. "You think we could...?" He gestured at the sword.

"Don't look at me. You're the one wearing the spots," Plagg pointed out.

Mister Bug didn't know how to feel about that. "Alright, let's- AGHHH!" Burning pain brought him to his knees.

"Kid!" Plagg flew behind him and spread out his little arms. "Don't touch him!"

He couldn't breath. His heart felt like it was in a vice. His eyes watered as an all-consuming sorrow overflowed from an unknown source.

"Chat Noir! You are accused!"

He knew that voice. Forcing himself to turn around he saw her floating like an angel of vengeance. A whip ready in her hand. "M-Marinette?"

"Marinette couldn't convince her own friends to believe her over a petty, little liar! I am Princess Justice and you... You are in our way." She raised her whip to strike again.

"Heck, no!" Plagg dove at the ground right beneath Princess Justice and slammed into it. The impact sent pebbles and dust everywhere, pushing Princess Justice back and obscuring her vision.

Plagg suddenly pulled on a lock of Mister Bug's hair. "C'mon kid! Do the cure!"

Powering through the heartbreak that made him want to curl up and disappear he grabbed the Lucky Charm and threw it.

Forgoing the words he launched forward, lifting Sabine Cheng in a bridal carry as Plagg's Destruction spread beneath them.

The ladybugs surged throughout the city.

The Miraculous cure caught up to him as he turned onto another street. He sighed in relief as the foreign heartbreak abated. The tears in his eyes drying with the wind as he leveled out.

Short but strong arms tightened their hold around his neck and he jerked in surprise. Sabine eyed the ground three meters away, speeding past them. She didn't scream but her body language spoke volumes.

"Sorry! Had to get you out of there!" Mister Bug gave her a quick rundown of what she'd missed.

Despite her obvious shock and disorientation she listened intently. In the end she only had one question: "Where is my daughter?"

Mister Bug didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure he should tell her everything. But did he have the right to keep it from her?

He thought about the secrets he had to keep. About the secrets Ladybug, Marinette, was forced to keep from him. About Verity Queen and how, even in the grips of an akuma, she defended her daughter.

Mister Bug, Adrien, came to a decision. "Mme. Cheng? There's someone you should meet..."

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"Enough, Princess Justice! That flying rat is toying with you! Find Mister Bug and bring me his Miraculous!"

Papillon Écarlate scowled in frustration. The battle with Verity Queen had allowed his prize supervillain to sneak up on the unsuspecting insect. Yet 'Mister Bug' still managed to evade them! With the help of the Black Cat kwami!

The Miraculous cure may not be able to free his akumatized army but it did undo everything else! Dark Cupid, Zombizou and the others had to start almost from scratch! Still, it was merely a delay.

"If Princess Justice can trap this Mister Bug, he'll have no choice but to tell us where the other Miraculous are hiding!"

"And where Adrien is," Catalyst added.

"Once I have both the Ladybug and the Black Cat in my possession it won't matter. None of this will have happened in the first place."

"And if we follow the kwami?" Catalyst asked.

As if in answer Princess Justice informed him that she'd lost track of the Black Cat kwami.

Papillon Écarlate was... displeased.

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Mister Bug flew into the room he'd left Master Fu in and gently set Sabine down.

He planted his feet firmly on the ground and retracted his wings.

Then promptly collapsed.

Sabine caught him and helped him to a tarp covered couch. "Are you alright, young man?" she asked worriedly.

He breathed deeply as the memory of Princess Justice's attack tried to resurface. He pushed the unrequited longing back. Now wasn't the time to dwell on whose emotions he was feeling. "Yeah... Guess her attack took more out of me than I thought."

Sabine gazed at him in concern.

There was surprised fumbling from the doorway and Master Fu appeared. A makeshift bandanna with eyeholes, that he'd obviously made in a hurry, covering his face. Wayzz was probably hiding somewhere.

"Mister Bug," Master Fu greeted, there was disapproval in his voice. "Mme. Dupain-Cheng is not who you were supposed to rescue."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Mister Bug managed to get out before an insistent beeping announced his imminent de-transformation. He didn't remember hearing it during the fight.

Master Fu quickly grabbed the tarp covering the couch and threw it over the spotted hero, who coughed at the dust. "This exposes us to unnecessary risk. Our position is already precarious enough as it is."

There was a flash and Tikki phased out of the covering. "It couldn't be helped, Master."

Master Fu sighed and turned to his other Chosen's mother. "Forgive my rudeness. We haven't properly met, I am-"

"The Great Guardian," Sabine surmised, tearing her eyes away from the fairy-like creature. "Sabine Cheng. Your student told me about you after he saved me from being akumatized."

Master Fu stiffened and glanced at Adrien. The tarp obscured his Chosen's features but Master Fu could feel Adrien's apprehension.

"He also said you were the one to ask about Marinette," Sabine continued.

Master Fu stumbled in shock and turned his head from Sabine to Adrien and back again. "The situation is... complicated."

"She deserves to know, Master," Adrien insisted, he'd wrapped the tarp around himself like a shawl, revealing his eyes but keeping his face covered.

"It is not the time!" Master Fu chastised. "With Papillon Écarlate gaining strength we must focus on- Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, Master," Adrien apologized. He was rummaging around beneath the tarp. Finding what he wanted, Adrien brought out his transformation cheese. "But I need to find her before Princess Justice does."

"Find who?"

"Our Mirror Blade: Kagami." He gave Tikki the red wedge.

"Earth?" Tikki asked taking the cheese but not eating it yet.

"What better way of staying under the radar than avoiding it altogether?" Adrien reasoned.

Master Fu set a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "Bringing Ryuko in is wise but-"

Adrien rubbed his head. "Actually, Kagami isn't going to be the Dragon." He looked his Master in the eye. "She's going to be the Black Cat." He turned to Sabine. "I'd like you to be the Dragon instead, Mme. Cheng."

Sabine blinked in suprise, not comprehending what it was the young hero was proposing.

The Guardian's eyes widened. "That- Out of the question! It doesn't work like this, Chat Noir. The both of them would be unbalanced! What if they aren't suitable for those Miraculous?"

"I've seen Kagami charge supervillains with nothing but a mic stand. Mme. Cheng is the woman who raised My Lady. They're brave and willing. Master... This is the only choice."

"We can still free Ladybug," Master Fu insisted. "Then she can decide who to bestow with a Miraculous."

Adrien shook his head. "My Lucky Charm said I needed Kagami."

"... The Lucky Charm said to give Kagami the Black Cat?"

"... Yes! I don't know if it's to bring My Lady back to us or some other reason but I know that we need Kagami! And I know I need to hurry!"

Master Fu stared at his Chosen intently. "If that is our best course of action," he conceded.

Adrien nodded at Tikki and she swallowed the red wedge. Her form took on stone-like armor. "Terra-Tikki!"

"Terra-Tikki, transforme-moi!"

Mister Bug stood and looked at the tools on his forearms; perfect for digging. He jumped onto the windowsill and turned back to Master Fu, a question in his eyes.

"We'll discuss this when you return," Master Fu promised.

Mister Bug nodded. He turned to Sabine for a moment. We'll get Marinette back. I promise. Then leapt down.

Sabine went to the window. It overlooked an alley; empty save for the dumpster Mister Bug pulled over the entrance to his newly made tunnel.

Sabine had remained quiet throughout their discussions in order to better understand this unseen side of the Guardians of Paris. "So, Mlle. Tsurugi is the Dragon hero," she commented.

Master Fu sighed at their slip up. Speaking a Chosen's name out loud! He was getting too old for this.

"Incidentally, how do you know my daughter?" Sabine inquired, deceptively calm.

Master Fu paled. This wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

Plagg chose that moment to make his return known. "What'd I miss?"

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Ch.1  Ch.2    Ch.4  Ch.5

Notes: I head!canon that Adrien's Lucky Charms tend to have an obvious and not-so-obvious use.