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oblique-lane · 1 year ago

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idk if youve done it yet but i would actually lose my mind if you did an analysis for demo

Aye aye captain 🫡 Time to overdramatize again!

Let's address Demo's wounds

(Demo's backstory was changed through the years but I'm sticking to the older version because I find it more grounded)

Demoman's story is easily one of the most tragic of all the mercs. Imagine you have been abandoned from birth, your parents simply rejected you for what you are. But luckily you have been adopted by some good people who replaced your parents and made you a relatively happy child.

And then you accidentally kill them. You're 6 years old. How does that feel?

I can't even imagine how a child's brain can't comprehend the idea of being a murderer. It was an accident, of course, they were blown up by a big explosion he created (genius kid found out how to do that, huh?) but still. His parents were dead and he knew it was his own fault. He learned he was dangerous as he is.

How was it like pondering about it in the orphanage?.. "I didn't want this! I want to go back and fix it, I'm so sorry", something like that. But he couldn't go back in time, so being covered in such an avalanche of guilt, he learned he needs to repress himself.

Demo have always had an explosive temper (no pun intended), it was his true nature, pure emotion: if he's happy, it's 100%; if he's angry, it's a full blown storm. If he loves, he loves with all of his heart, and he has a big one.

Living on the impulse, all or nothing, that crucial accident revealed that letting his true nature go will only end up as destruction in the end. Irreparable damage.

We don't know what exactly was happening to him during his orphanage years, but if I'm to guess, repressing everything about him: his interests, his character, his whole nature, was a thing to choose. He thought that he had to become still and quiet as to not to repeat that kind of tragedy ever again. He probably didn't have people to be friends with either, either because people rejected him for his past, or he avoided them himself due to his internalized shame, at least that's a guess.

But everything repressed returns to the surface sooner or later. As a child, living for so long under overwhelming guilt, grief, hate, pain and sadness, under the skies that are almost never sunny in a all-year-long damp and coldness of the Ullapool. Incomprehensibly grey. It was depriving.

He was always fascinated with explosions. He didn't touch it for a long time, but maybe something like seeing fireworks again one day made something inside him tremble... And to remember.

Explosions. Launch... Acceleration... Release. And every time the release happens, his soul fills with excitement, the body feels lighter and shivers go up the spine. Release happens inside his head too, for the explosions make his worries and pain go away for a moment.

He couldn't find another way to release his bottled up emotions, so gradually he returned to make explosives again.

It was something like an addiction. Similar to pyromania, except no one bothered to research this one. At the moment of explosion he could let his anger out, he could scream, he could run around freely, he could sense heat in his chest; he could be himself. As he once was.

Everything was cold. But the explosions were hot.

He thought it was under control, just a little bit of KABOOM after school, but he craved more and more every time, more vivid, more violent...

That's how he lost his eye. (...Was it a subconscious act of selfharm?)

The missing eye was a forever reminder of how deviated he actually was. He learned that he couldn't repress or change what he truly is - a monster. A Black Scottish Cyclops, wether it were his peers who called him like that or he himself, out of misery. There was indeed something seriously wrong with him.

It seemed like the only thing he was capable of is destruction. Destruction is the only environment he's comfortable with. Peace was always so anxious and depriving, and breaking things felt calming, so he figured it must be right.

And then his birth mother came and took him back, "now that's he's a worthy DeGroot". It was unexpected but... Pleasant. So he wasn't THAT worthless after all, huh? Turns out, it was really familial, the destruction thing. At least he found out that there was a reason behind all of this.

His new mom was, saying honestly, pretty cruel with words. She was not at all gentle, she was very strict, demanding and straight up abusive. It was never enough for her no matter what Demo did. She didn't want results from his work, she's just always wanted to mess with his brain.

And for whatever reason... This setup felt right for him. To be thrown around like that, to be humiliated harshly, it felt fitting, it wasn't causing anxiety or anything. He has to be a scapegoat, he had to forget about being a child and to start working as an adult, at the same time somehow replacing a father he still didn't have, but it felt good enough. Confusing relationships felt good enough.

Destruction was his habitat, and his heart could no longer accept anything else.

Cruelty wasn't warm though, just familiar, just an environment to not to go insane. But he craved warmness so badly... Yet every time he would get close to someone and receive a little gentleness and care, it would feel sickening. It felt unnatural, it reminded him of his lost parents and of everything that's wrong about him.

The only warmness his body could accept was alcohol, making him bubbly and comfortable and relaxed. He almost felt normal, happy even. Alcohol heat made him melt, and he felt so fulfilled as if he was in paradise, back to the womb.

Yet after the effect wears off, he feels lonely as ever. Quickly, existing without alcohol becomes pain. Existing at all. He became an addict.

Not that everyone he met rejected him, rather, he subconsciously reached out to those who would be cruel to him. Again, gentleness hurts wether he knows it or not. He's only good in destruction.

Lonely and clingy, ready to overshare, overall mess yet carrying a big baggage of love that has no one to give it to. Maybe because he can't give it to himself in the first place. There's so many issues unresolved because he can't handle them alone, yet there's no one to help since he was already trapped in a closed circuit of self sabotage.

He will keep acting like a party beast, always crazily emotional and overdone upbeat, a simple drunken man who will not be taken seriously that way. Maybe that's what he wanted, to not be seen as deep by anyone for not be reminded of his misery once again.

Seems like we bought that too.

...

The enemy Soldier might be an exception though. The man he really treasures his friendship with turned out to be an enemy; repeating the rule again: it's only acceptable when dangerous. Soldier deeply cares for Demo, however he's not gentle or pitying, he's as destructive and explosive as Demo is, and these two are a very rare perfect combination of destructing each other in the act of love. Both broken beyond repair, soul on soul, forever to be misunderstood by the outsiders. This is something about this relationship that looks like a golden lining.

They will not fix each other, but they sure are going to have a good time!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress #demo tf2 #tf2 demo #team fortress demoman #tf2 demoman #artists on tumblr #my art #tf2 theory #tf2 headcanons #boots and bombs #demosoldier #psychoanalysis #chatacter analysis #tf2 character analysis

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baronessvonglitter · 3 months ago

Text

🔥Vulgar Display of Power🔥

(Part 1 of "The Assistant From Hell")

Marcus Moreno x OFC Cat Cruz | WC: 4.9K

Summary: Being Marcus Moreno's assistant is an easy gig for Cat Cruz. Until she makes an impulsive decision to show she's more than meets the eye.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! M for Mature. Allusions to smut. Adult language. First person narrative and maybe even an unreliable narrator? Mentions of pyromania. Petty violence. Brief allusions to kinks. One vulgar (but also pretty cool) display of power. Cat is basically a walking Intrusive Thought.

A/n: Hi my name is Adriana, and one time when I was a kid I ate an entire bag of miniature Milky Ways and then I threw up. We were on a road trip and I was reading while the car was in motion.. so that's how I found out I get motion sickness 😎

A couple months ago I was really stuck on a couple of fics I was working on, and so to get unstuck I started a stream of consciousness exercise, written entirely in first person. This is the result - with some polishing and editing lol. Cat's story is going to be told through parts rather than chapters, because it might be one of those stories that doesn't really have a true end, just a collection of adventures. I plan on sprinkling in a few P-bois in later chapters (and this one!)

dividers by @kodaswrld 👑

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You can call me Cat.

Not Catherine. Only cops and judges call me that.

And don't you dare start with Cathy or the godforsaken Kitty.

The last man who called me Kitty.. well..

To put it lightly, that man is no longer among the living on this earth.

To put it darkly I jammed an ice pick through the base of his skull.

But let's not get caught up in that. I tend to get easily distracted, so bear with me.

Anyway it's a typical fucking Monday and because I live in a society I'm driving my shitty canary yellow Saturn SW to my job at Heroics HQ instead of relaxing on a nude beach somewhere getting tan all over or partying somewhere in Dubai and getting a billionaire to give over all his money.

It sucks being an adult. But you already know this. I'm not here to tell you things you know, I'm here to tell a story. So be quiet and listen.

😊

I pick up a couple drinks at Starbucks and cruise into my assigned parking space at work. Mine says Employee of the Year in thick black marker, as it has since the day I started working there and wrote it in thick black marker. It should say Milennium instead of Year, but there's not enough space on the sign and I always forget how to spell 'milennium.' Anyone else who tries to park here mysteriously gets their tires slashed. It's a crazy and sad world we live in. Some people just don't have any sense of right and wrong.

Anyway, I haven't had to slash anyone's tires in awhile, which has made for a boring few weeks. Did I mention how boring my job is? But it's safe, and it pays really well. Plus my boss.. well, you'll see..

I saunter into the office and--

Did I mention my outfit? I didn't, did I? Well I look fucking good. 😉

Much of my paycheck goes to keep me dressed in L'ecole des Femmes, which isn't cheap, but holy fuck have you seen the clothes?? Today I'm in my usual Belle de Jour dress with the oh-so-necessary black Louboutins (genuine, thank you very much!) with white ruffle socks and my hair in a high ponytail with a black bow. My hair's dark so the bow doesn't always show, but I like knowing it's there, making me look very coquette. The red lips and black winged liner let everyone know I'm not to be fucked with.

Here we go.

I waltz in, drink holder in hand as I flash my badge and am given entry to the building. Blowing the security guard a kiss, I make my way to the elevator bank, the doors gliding right open for me as if they know I'm here. The ride goes by so damn slow but no one in this building seems to give a damn. They're all a fit bunch who take the stairs. Well la-dee-da my preferred cardio is--

Eep. Fourth floor. My heart rate speeds up a little bit. Adrenaline courses through my veins, waking up every sense, firing off neurons left and right. I feel all tingly, like my spider senses are activated.

He's here! I can already hear his voice from out here in the hallway.

Sauntering into the office (by the way, have you ever "sauntered" in Louboutins? It ain't easy work, honey. It's a goddamn art, which I have perfected. Most people would probably fall and break their nose trying to walk a mile in my shoes but that's okay because I am Cat Full of Grace and I am a rarity among all).

Fuck, I got sidetracked. Okay, so I saunter into the office and am met with the sight of my boss, arms crossed as he leans against the doorway of his office, speaking with one of the other employees.

Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears starts playing in my head and as if in slow motion he turns to look at me, a little smile on his face.

"You're late, Miss Cruz," he says, a bit sternly.

"Fashionably so," I do a little spin in my outfit, hoping he'll get excited by how short my skirt is.

"It's ten thirty. You're supposed to start work at eight." He is most definitely not looking at my legs. Bummer.

"I'm late because I stopped to get you a drink," I hand him a cup, lighting up when our fingers touch.

"What is it?" he asks, looking pleasantly surprised that I'd thought about him on my morning commute.

"Actually, I'm not sure. But surprises are the spice of life, am I right?" I take the cup from him and sip it, swishing it around in my mouth for a bit before swallowing. "Mocha latte, extra whip," I proudly announce, handing him back the warm cup of coffee. He stares at the ruby bloom of my lipstick stain on the lid.

"Did you know they just make a bunch of drinks and then leave them out on the counter, completely unattended?" I giggle as I put my purse away, finally taking a sip of my own drink and getting a big gulp of matcha. Ugh. Well, at least it was free.

A confused look crosses his face as he pieces together what I'm saying. "Cat, I think these are mobile orders for other people. You literally stole drinks off the counter."

"I prefer 'swiped' over 'stole'," I correct him. "And anyway, those lazy fuckers can just go through the drive-through or wait in line like everyone else. I swear, some people are so self-righteous and egotistical."

The look on his face is priceless. His deep brown eyes get all big behind his glasses (did I mention he wears glasses? Rawr, people are a thousand percent hotter with glasses) and his lips get all pouty and o-shaped beneath his mustache--

Okay, stop. I know what you're thinking.

No, I don't have a crush on my boss. That's ridiculous and I'd laugh right in your face if you were here right now.

Marcus Moreno is conventionally attractive. That's all. Stop giving me that look.

Do you know how many hot guys I see every day? I work with goddamn superheroes. The abundance of testosterone makes every one of my coworkers a little more attractive. It's a pull on the pheromones or the ovaries or something, I'm not a scientist.

He's standing there, watching me with that adorably clueless look and I'm standing there like an idiot, watching him because he's so cute.

"Don't you have some work to do? While you're still employed by us?" he says, a little smirk on those lips that I definitely don't dream about kissing or imagine how soft they'd be on my skin.

"I'm right on top of that, Rose!" I say cheerfully. Marcus just gives me a blank look.

I put my hands on my hips, feigning annoyance. "Haven't you ever seen Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead?"

"Umm.." his lips pout as he genuinely tries to remember.

"Dude. that movie's like thirty years old by now. Do you not watch movies?"

"Of course, I watch movies with Missy all the time," he says a little defensively as he speaks about his daughter.

"I don't mean Pixar movies." I roll my eyes.

"Miss Cruz. Back to work," he says, a tinge of iron in his voice.

"Yes, sir." Jesus, when he says it like that, I can't help but follow orders.

I need to start on something to do, but I immediately start browsing Dolls Kill. There's a sale on platform heels! I think Marcus wouldn't mind if I get settled in before going through all those boring emails.

My nameplate says, I put the Ass in Assistant on the side that faces me. The other side just says Admin Assistant. (I've asked Accounting for a new one, but the department head is a bitch and says only team leaders are allowed personalized nameplates. But she has one. I asked if she's a team leader and she said no, just a department head. So I asked why she has a personalized nameplate. She said no, she's just a department head and I said well why do you get to have one, that doesn't seem fair, and she had no reply, just stared at me open-mouthed like a bass caught on a fishing pole.)

So yeah I started a small fire in her office, but she was okay and all the other accountants were at lunch, so nobody else would've gotten hurt anyway.

See? I got sidetracked again. C'mon, I need you to keep me from doing that!

God, it's boring. Does anyone else have a problem just diving into work? Who would dive headfirst into a pit of needes? I need to merge my way into this evil Monday morning.

I spin in my chair, sliding to my left to get a view of Marcus, who's typing something on his computer. His brows are knitted together, a small stray strand of hair falling over his forehead which he doesn't seem to notice. He looks so Clark Kent right now. Seriously, you'd love him.

Not that I do. Shut up!

Typically I wile the work day away as Marcus's personal assistant. I answer the phone and respond to emails, and I'm also in charge of his schedule, both work and personal.

He never has anything in his personal schedule. It makes me really sad for him. The most exciting thing he has planned this week is price comparing Roombas. (Yes, he actually carved out time just for that. Isn't that adorable?)

I line up work meetings, sometimes snoop around at his music collection. (I don't think he knows it's paired to my Bluetooth.) And often I'll play songs on my speaker that are his own playlist and he'll peek his head out of his office and say something cute like "Is that 'Porcelain' by Moby? I love that song!" and I know he loves it because I'm playing his playlist.

Right before lunch is when I feel it: like a fire in my bones (I'm not attempting to be poetic, that's really how it feels!) and a buzzing in my brain. My hearing goes all staticky and it's a battle just to keep control of my faculties.

'Hello, darling.'

Aw, damn it.

"What the fuck do you want?" I whisper to the voice in my head.

'Quite a rude way to greet an old friend, isn't it? Whatever happened to hello, how are you?'

"Get out of my head!" I whisper harshly. I hear Marcus's fingers abruptly stop typing.

'Thinking about that man's hands again, aren't you? They'd make a good necklace, wouldn't they?' the voice teases. 'I know you've always enjoyed the rough stuff.'

I hurry out of my seat and past Marcus's office. "Hey, you okay?" he calls out.

"Fine! Period emergency!" I shout back, making haste to the corner of the front hallway where no one goes.

"Seriously, dude, you need to leave me alone!" I whisper-hiss to the evil voice.

'You used to like when I come into your mind like this..' I can almost hear the pout in his voice.

"You're not welcome here!"

'Too late.'

My stomach heaves when he says that because it means he's actually near.

The elevator dings and the doors open up on my floor to reveal him -- the bane of my existence, the curse of all good things.

Come on, we've all had that ex.

"Not now!" I whisper

But he's already here, his entire personality taking up so much space in the hallway, brown curls falling over soulful dark eyes, a cigarette between his lips. There's no smoking allowed in the building, but what do I care, I started an office fire, remember?

"Why is that damn elevator so slow? Hey, don't I get a hug?" He opens his arms wide, his watercolor print shirt rising up a little to show his tummy.

"You can get fucked for all I care," is my stone cold reply as I cross my arms, not making a move towards him, showing him I Mean Business. "Go away! I didn't call you. How'd you even get past security?"

"You don't need to call me. I know when I'm needed. And I have my ways of getting in to where I want to be. You know that, Kitty Kat." He sidles up to me anyway, and I wince when he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I groan at the nickname. "It's just Cat, with a C. And by the way, I need you like I need a limp dick."

"Classy as always, Cat-With-a-C." He makes himself at home in a chair in the empty waiting room. His cigarette never ashes, never gets used up or goes out. If he flicks it away he simply makes a new one appear and starts over again.

"I need you like I need a UTI. Speaking of which, how's the new wife?"

He groans. "Darling, you can't keep bringing up old shit. I thought we were past that."

"I am past it. You're the one who came to me." My arms are crossed, not relenting even a little, not even when he appraises my outfit. I already know what he's thinking.

"Something important is going to happen today," he says, grinning at me like a fool.

I sigh deeply. "What exactly?"

He says in that singsong voice I've come to loathe: "Don't pretend like you don't know..."

I pause, my body so still I swear I can feel the thrum of my heartbeat in every part of my body. "No.. no, please!" I whisper.

"I am afraid, darling, that it's not up to me. You forget that I know everything that's going to happen."

"Not true. You've always been a liar."

"And so are you. You're an extension of me. Aren't you tired of pretending, Cat? Don't you want to show everyone what you're truly capable of?"

Just then Marcus approaches, and I back away from my unwanted and uninvited guest as if to let him know hell no I'm not with this dude.

He appraises us with a look of concern, his dark gaze flitting between me and the disheveled goon smoking like a chimney.

"Is everything okay here?" Marcus asks. "Miss Cruz?" He looks at me, those big puppy dog eyes full of concern. It's so heartwarming.

He must have heard us from his office. Damn his supernatural sense of hearing.

"He was just leaving." I smile.

But nooo, this idiot decides to introduce himself to my boss. He extends a hand towards Marcus. "How's it going? My name is Lu-"

"Lucien," I interrupt. "This is Lucien, my...uncle?" I hate the idea of introducing Lucien as someone I've ever been romantically involved with.

There's an evil gleam in Lucien's eyes (when is there ever not?) and he plays along with it. "That's right, I'm her uncle," he says as Marcus tentatively shakes his hand.

"I'm Marcus Moreno," my boss introduces himself.

"Good to finally meet you." Lucien's eyes light up as he glances my way and I give him an imperceptible shake of my head. "Kitty talks about you a lot. You should hear some of the things she says about you."

"Oh, that's enough out of you!" I laugh and try to shuffle Lucien down the hallway. "Don't listen to him, Marcus. He's had a recent brain injury. He says things that aren't true."

I have to give credit to Marcus, he's incredibly calm during all this, though I can sense he has a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

Nope, don't think about his tongue. Or his lips, which are right now curving into a smile as I continue to push Lucien out the door. "It's a pleasure to get to meet you, Mr. Cruz," he says politely. "Your niece has been a great addition to our team."

"Mr. Cruz?" Lucien whispers to me, barely containing his gleeful laughter. "It's DeLeon to you, and a thousand happy returns, my good man!"

"Shut up," I hiss at him, grabbing him and walking him back to the elevator. "Get the fuck out. Don't come here ever again. Don't tap into my brain or I will perform the necessary task to get rid of you for good," I threaten him.

There's a brief flash of fear in his dark eyes, just a flash, but it's there before he resumes his usual sagacious demeanor.

(Sagacious is my word of the day. I think self-improvement in one's vocabulary is a wonderful thing. But I still enjoy saying "fuck" a lot.)

"You will see me again," Lucien promises. "No matter what, you and I are bound together. Forever."

He takes his leave right before I get the chance to punch him or kick him in the balls. I watch him from the window, making sure he's really gone. He gets into a jet black Ferrari Testarossa and speeds away.

I miss that car.

"He seems nice," Marcus says, appearing at my side, also watching Lucien burn rubber on the road.

"He's Satan Incarnate," I say glumly.

Mondays suck and this is the suckiest Monday ever to Monday, but this particular Monday sucks for another reason: team meetings.

Everybody hates them, probably none moreso than me. Meetings suck, Mondays suck. Why clump them together? I've asked Marcus but he says it's on the orders of the higher ups.

At two p.m. we begin the journey to the main board room. During our walk Marcus practices his "no nonsense" look. But no matter how hard he tries I can tell he'll definitely tolerate some nonsense. He's just too good of a guy.

When I realize there's no backtalk in my brain, that means Lucien really is gone. My thoughts are my own again. Thank the gods. Now I can concentrate on how cute Marcus looks, that little crease between his brows deepens as he likely thinks over what he's going to say to the others.

"Good luck, gorgeous." I wink at him before we go in, and smile just as I see a faint pink blush rise in his face.

"I'll need it. Thanks," he mutters. As we enter the room, one by one the other team members turn to look at him, their looks varying from annoyance to disappointment and disdain.

I keep my smile on even as I glare back at them. The disrespect is blatant in their eyes and I will not tolerate it. Marcus may be a good guy, but I take no such fuckery lightly. I have complete faith in Marcus's ability to get them to agree.

I'm starting to see the reason for Lucien's appearance. He's only around when something bad is about to go down. People fight, argue, kill each other when he's around, and it seems the very air he breathed out has now infected the rest of the team. They're a fidgety, pompous lot. Superheroes are perceived through the media in a very positive light. Let me tell you, they're actually all dicks. And poor Marcus has had to handle their bullshit on a daily basis.

He stands at the head of the table and I sit at the side of the room near the door. First one out in case there's a fire. (Seriously, I've told you about the random acts of pyromania that go on around here.)

Marcus stands at the head of the table, a confident and serious expression on his face. "All right, let's just get straight to it, shall we? I'm sure you're all aware that I've been out of the field for some time now."

"We're aware!" someone yells from the back. "You leave the field then think you can make all these changes! We won't take it!"

My boss's gaze darkens but he keeps his composure and I mentally applaud him for that. "I'm well aware of your concerns, however, despite not being on the field as much, it doesn't make me any less of a leader."

"A leader should be with the team during battle! When's the last time you did that?" another complains.

I can already see the vein in Marcus's forehead start to twitch and my own body tenses up with anger in a purely empathetic response.

"Before my wife passed away and I was left to raise my daughter on my own.." he says quietly. "That was the last time I fought alongside you all."

Oof. He really just played the dead wife card. Not a fun card to play. He must be able to zone in on my thoughts, though, because his eyes seek out mine and I feel as if my heart is on full display for him when our gazes meet. I start to rise from my seat, my first instinct to pull him away from this stupid meeting and just make him feel better.

"It's not the same," another hero says with less ire in their voice. "We need a leader who's out there with us, not just up here calling the shots."

Marcus nods in acknowledgement. "I understand your concerns, however, my duty as leader has shifted. I look after operations, training, public relations, and Miss Cruz has been an adept assistant at my side the whole time."

I stand and do a little curtsy in honor of being recognized so kindly. I must give Marcus a proper thank you when the meeting's done. If you know what I mean..

Anyway, Marcus is continuing, so let's listen.

"...but each and every one of you have something in common. You're not just heroes.. you're all egotistical, arrogant bastards."

The whole room erupts in chaos. People rise from their chairs, papers are strewn, threats are made, basically it's a mess. This group is calling for Marcus's head on a stick and it's then that I realize that I can't sit back any longer.

"STOP!" I bellow, the power I so rarely get to use is surging within me. The heroes freeze in place, literally unable to move except for Marcus.

It's the most satisfying thing to see the looks of horror and shock on their faces as I keep them in thrall to me. "Marcus is right. You're all a bunch of egotistical bastards. So for once in your fortunate lives, sit down and shut up!"

I smile, pleased when they have no choice but to obey my command. "You're going to listen and discuss with respect for your team leader.. or I'll explode all of your fucking heads." I smirk.

The group is silent but for a few puttering sighs and pathetic groans. "God damn," Marcus mutters, obviously taken aback by my sudden revelation that I'm not that different from the rest of this crowd.

"They're going to behave now, Mr. Moreno," I announce, releasing them from my hypnotic spell. "Aren't you?" I growl to them.

The heroes all nod instantly, not wishing to challenge me again. Their thoughts come to me unbidden. They're scared, most are angry, some impressed and even aroused by my display of power. But they're going to comply out of straight fear of what I might do next.

Marcus's thoughts are the hardest to ignore. He's thinking about my confidence, my scent, the way my clothing clings to my curves.. I've just silenced an entire room of supernaturally gifted people and the first thing he's thinking is he wants to fuck me.

The meeting goes by smoothly, no further incidents. I was pleased that Marcus's ideas were presented with little objection. And when the heroes leave I feel waves of deference, curiosity, fear, even jealousy as they pass me to exit the room. I smile and drink it all up like a Diet Cherry Coke on a hot August day.

"Successful meeting," I nod to Marcus, who's picking up the loose papers off the ground. With a wave of my hand I sweep them all up into a tidy pile then burn them to ash in less than a millisecond. They were all petitions to demote Marcus from team leader. We can't have that.

"Very successful.. thanks to you." He won't look me in the eye, despite the absolute wave of desire I felt coming off him when I'd shut up his inferiors.

He pauses before we leave. "You know this means you probably won't be able to work here anymore, right?"

My stomach sinks and a it feels like an icy blast hits me right in the chest. "What? Why?"

He shakes his head. "It's against policy to use your powers on others. Some of them could sue saying they were harmed, or under duress in making a critical decision for the future of this enterprise."

Shit. I hadn't thought of that. As usual I'd acted on impulse. And in that moment of reckless impulsivity I may have done irreparable damage to my career.

(Okay, that's the most adult-y thing I've ever said and I'm pretty proud of myself.)

"That's not fucking fair!" I whine. (Annnd there goes my shining moment of maturity down the drain.)

"I know," he soothes, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Oh god damn, I love when he does that. "But it's not my decision. It'll be left up to the higher powers."

"Fuck them! I helped you! You have to tell them that I helped you, Marcus.."

For a moment I can feel the mixed emotions he's going through, regret and sorrow mainly. "Did you.." he starts to say, and my heart skips many beats because I already know the question burning in his mind.

He clears his throat and looks at me with those baby cow eyes behind those glasses. "Did you ever use your powers on me?" He pauses because he senses my struggle. "The truth, Cat," he insists, voice soft, like we're talking friend-to-friend instead of boss-to-employee.

"No," I lie, schooling my features into the epitome of innocence: eyes wide, forehead slightly creased as if to say I would never.

But I did. (I'll get to that part later.)

Marcus looks relieved. "I appreciate your candor, Miss Cruz." (Oh, I guess we're back to boss/employee status again.)

"Yeah, anytime," I mutter, glancing around the room and making sure it's tidy before we leave.

Not even five minutes after I get back to my desk Marcus comes out from his office, a harried look on his face, and he's unable to meet my eyes. He gives no reference as to where he's going but I can already tell. He's off to a meeting. About me. About my sudden and rather vulgar display of power.

I don't often feel anxious but this is one of those scenarios where I actually do, and that anxiety sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach. No matter how many times I check my lipstick in the mirror or update my social media apps, the brief peace I'm granted dissipates and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

The clock makes its interminable half-moon from the twelve to the six and that's when Marcus returns, his footsteps not as hurried as before, yet anxious energy emanates from him like radioactivity. I try not to look too hopeful. What if they've decided to fire me?

Or worse. they could ask me to work with them, buddy up on missions. No thank you.

"What'd the jury say?" I ask as he comes around to my side of the desk.

He's quiet a moment before he nods. "The higher-ups think it's best if you take a couple days vacation."

"With pay?"

"No," he says, and his countenance grows stern as he adds, "and don't try to Jedi mind-trick me into saying yes. It's not my decision. And frankly watching you do that is kind of creepy."

I flash back briefly to the bright burst of lust I'd read in his brain shortly after telling off the damned Heroics. Does he know I know? Was it just a knee-jerk reaction? Does he not like me back that way?

Again, not that I like him that way, it just feels nice to be crushed on.

But if he finds me creepy, that's almost as good.

"Okay, fine. But Marcus, do I still have a job here?"

He can't bullshit me and he knows it. "I don't know. When you come back on Friday you'll be expected to give your own account of what happened, along with some tests they want to run.. your abilities and all that. And a thorough background check. It appears we never gave you one."

Oh, they did one all right, I just made damn sure it turned out completely in my favor.

"So that's it? A little slap on the wrist? 'Bad girl, Cat, mind your manners better next time Cat'?" I ask hopefully. When Marcus blushes I take a little peek into his mind hoping to see him imagining giving me a spanking, but then suddenly he blocks me out.

"I told you to stop that," he warns.

He's pretty sexy when he's strict.

"Alright, alright," I relent, backing off. "But I'm serious.. if they want to go hard on me then you've gotta swing for me, Marcus."

"I can't promise anything," he says with a sigh. "But I'll try."

"Do, or do not. There is no try," I say in my Yoda voice.

He scoffs, turning a little pink. "It's going to be very quiet and very boring without you here. I'll do what I can.."

tagging the peeps who showed interest when this baby was a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @burntheedges @sunshinehaze1 @joelalorian @604to647 @almostfoxglove @inept-the-magnificent

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @puddles221b @bunniboo0015

@happylove1223 @angiewatson

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#pedro pascal #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x ofc #we can be heroes #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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