#we joke on discord he’d be our favorite chair

[hornime]

voyeurant | kenma kozume x f!reader

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, kinda dubcon, kenma’s unintentionally pervy, male masturbation, poorly written video game content (i tried my best), mutual pining but u both are oblivious

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: yes, the title is a shitty pun of valorant. no, i will not be changing it. also this tiktok about timeskip kenma made me giggle so pls enjoy.

voyeurant: part one ↓ | part two | part three:

“fuck, i hate this map,” kenma grumbled into his headset.

your voiced chimed in his ears. “is it ascent?” you turned to see his face on your screen, pinched in annoyance. “ha, it is ascent. sucks for you.”

“which one are you on? haven?”

“you know it,” you chuckled. “your favorite.”

“i hate you.” he weighed his options, did he really want to play this game? the layout of the world made it irritatingly hard to strategize, and today’s losing streak was making him more agitated than usual. with a sign, he closed the application. “fuck this. i’m gonna go piss.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re such a big baby. and...” you released your mouse, throwing your hands up in triumph, “we just won. at this point, i’m gonna outrank you.” you were joking, of course. kenma wasn’t just a gamer, he was kodzuken, one of japan’s best pro-gamers, and you were just someone that played as a hobby. but it was always fun to tease.

“hmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure you will.” he turned his head to look directly at his webcam, smirking, “in your dreams.”

“ooh, catboy’s getting feisty!” he flinched at the nickname. “go pee so i can beat you at your best.”

he obliged, pulling his headphones off and looping them on the top of his chair. he casually raised his middle finger at you while smoothing out strands of his hair, prompting a series of profanities to escape your mouth, none of which he could hear. he chuckled playfully as you responded with two middle fingers of your own, before moving out of the camera to get to the bathroom.

you and kenma had met in an... interesting way, to say the least. after going moderately viral from lashing out at him for refusing to heal you in a game of overwatch—while he was streaming—the two of you reconciled over a twitter thread and exchanged gamer tags. since then, you’d struck up an easygoing friendship, characterized by almost nightly discord calls and occasional flirting. but we’re just friends, you often reminded yourself. and you were fine, well, mostly fine, with that.

tonight was like any other night: both you and him spending hours in a video chat with nothing better to do than mindlessly play games and bash each other. it was more than enough to strengthen your relationship but fell short of giving you the romantic tension you craved.

with kenma off in the bathroom, you, already bored, spun wildly in your chair. forgetting that your earbuds were still plugged in, the white wire caught on an opened can of coke sitting on your desk, spilling the sugary drink all over your keyboard and the front of your shirt. 

“shit!” you quickly scrambled for paper towels, but the still-connected wire yanked you backwards. in your haste for something to wipe the soda with, the fact that your camera remained on in the video call completely slipped your mind. making the split-second decision that the trip for a towel wasn’t worth it at this point, you quickly whipped off your shirt, dabbing the keys with the part that was still dry. since you were home, you’d gone braless, and your current predicament had you flashing your webcam.

now, kenma had seen a lot of things from your side of the call: he’d seen you get chewed out by your residential advisor for being too loud, you with two sticks of pocky poking out of your mouth like walrus tusks, and you doing random cosplay moves you’d seen on tiktok. what he wasn’t expecting to see, not even in his wildest dreams, was a screenful of your tits, slightly damp from the cola that had seeped through the fabric of your long-gone shirt.

he stopped in his tracks, still out of the frame of his camera, eyes wide and heart racing, desperately trying to calm down and prevent the gradual hardening of his cock in his pants. unable to deny his desires, he continued staring at your plump breasts on his computer, you completely unaware that he could see you.

you quickly threw your soaked top in the laundry basket before throwing on a random sweatshirt and trying to calm your frazzled nerves. you tentatively touched your keyboard, groaning internally when you fingers lightly stuck to the buttons. it’s gonna take forever to clean this, you mourned.

“hey,” kenma mumbled, reappearing on screen and shaking you out of your thoughts.

“hey.” you noticed his flushed expression. “are you okay? you look really red.”

“uh, yeah. i actually uh, i feel kinda sick. so i’m gonna, gonna go.”

“oh, okay.” why’s he acting so weird? “feel better!” you disconnected from the call with a huff, disappointment morphing your face into a pout. well, you thought, better get to cleaning.

kenma, on the other hand, was still, swallowing as the bulge in his boxers became agonizingly hard. though the only thing left on his screen was his reflection staring back at him, the luscious view of your bust was etched in his mind. his hands moved to free his cock, the tip an angry red and smearing pre-cum over the waistband of his underwear. 

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

“fuck,” he whined, slowly stroking up and down. his thighs trembled as he fell back into his chair, mind wandering. he couldn’t stop himself, his thoughts become more and more lewd, fantasizing about how your breasts would bounce as he thrusted into you, how your thighs would wrap warmly around your head as he ate you out, how you’d cry out his name so prettily when he made you squirt around his fingers.

it was all too much, and as the circle he made with his fingers tightened as he reached his tip, he lurched forward, alarmed at how good everything felt just by thinking about you. i can’t cum, i can’t, the small part of his brain that wasn’t completely overtaken with pleasure tried to reason with him. there’s no going back if i—shit—if i cum. she’ll know, somehow, if i—if i cum, i—

the ecstasy kept clouding his judgement and his body worked against his mind as his hand pumped faster and faster while his conscience screamed to stop. his wrist wetly slapped the base of his cock, the sounds of both his hands and his moans getting too loud for comfort, but all he could think about was you. your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your legs, your ass, your pussy. god, he wanted to be in you so badly.

he couldn’t hold back, his insatiable need to cum overriding his senses, and the translucent liquid twitched out of his throbbing cock in spurts, drenching his fist and his balls. “fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m—fuck.”

he collapsed against the back of his chair, chest heaving with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. he combed a hand through his hair, the consequences of his actions now weighing heavily on his shoulders. i’m never gonna be able to look at her in the eyes again, he lamented. how am i ever gonna—damn it. 

the sudden ping of a notification had his eyes raising from the mess on his pants towards his computer screen. 

meanwhile, you were messaging kenma, a little off-put by his sudden radio silence but chalking it all up to his mysterious sickness.

[11:05 PM] you: hey ken! hope u feel better

[11:05 PM] you: if u get the chance u should check out what i added to our minecraft house. its perfect for sick victorian orphans like u

[12:14 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: why arent u responding

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: ok u got me ill tell u

[12:05 PM] you: its a hot tub

[12:05 PM] you: but with soup

[12:05 PM] you: but the soup is lava

[12:05 PM] you: genius right

[12:06 PM] you: anyway get some sleep and feel better <3

[12:06 PM] you: lmk if u wanna play animal crossing

[12:06 PM] you: actually no u should sleep. rest ur eyes and shit

[12:06 PM] you: no animal crossing for u!

[12:06 PM] you: sleep well so i can destroy ur ass in val tmrw

[12:06 PM] you: >:)

he sighed as he read your one-sided ramblings. he really liked you.

and he really wanted to fuck you. lucky for you, you wanted the exact same thing. 

if only kenma knew what you did on the other side of the screen, hands in your undies and his name on your lips...

>> part two

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[thelastspeecher]

Avatar Angie

Okay, here’s the very indulgent Avatar AU variation we’ve discussed on the Discord, where my OC, Angie McGucket, is the Avatar.  I’ve got even more written, but here’s a sort of first part.  Enjoy.  c:

——————————————————————————————

              As if in slow motion, Stan watched the bolt of lightning come for him.  He was frozen, unable to move to avoid it.

              This is what I get for thinking the other team wouldn’t play dirty.  They’ve got someone who can bend lightning, of course they’re gonna use it in an illegal move.  Suddenly, someone shoved him out of the way.  A very short someone.

              “Angie!” Stan screamed, spinning around just in time to see the lightning bolt hit her.  However, she didn’t get thrown back.  If anything, she steadied her stance.  Her arms moved in a circular motion, similar to the katas Stan had seen Angie’s waterbending relatives do.  He didn’t just recognize it from waterbending, though.  His firebending teacher had tried to get him to learn it.

              She’s redirecting the lightning.  The lightning came out of her other hand, hitting the domed ceiling, bursting lightbulbs and breaking glass.  In the darkened arena, Angie collapsed to the ground.

              “Angie!” Lute screamed, his voice even more raw than Stan’s.  He grabbed his helmet and threw it roughly to the ground, rushing to his younger sister’s side.  Stan ran over as well.  He could hear some kind of commotion happening in the stands but tuned it out.  The only thing he could focus on right now was Angie’s prone body.

              “Is she-” he croaked, falling to his knees by Angie.  Lute was already doing his best to heal her, holding handfuls of glowing water above her body.

              “She’s alive.  But her chi is all kinds of screwed up.  The energy flow is tangled and blocked, and I ain’t a good enough bender to even begin to reorganize it!” Lute said.  His voice was full of tears.

              “Luckily, I have some experience with lightning wounds,” a voice said.  Pa McGucket gently nudged Lute out of the way, taking his son’s spot healing Angie.

              “Pa?” Lute whispered.

              “I’m here too,” Ma McGucket said.  She sat next to Stan.  “We decided to come to your pro-bending match.  Didn’t expect this to happen, though.”

              “She redirected lightning, right?” Stan asked. Ma McGucket stilled.  “That’s what she did.  She pushed me out of the way and took the lightning, but not really.”

              “Oh, she absolutely took the lightning,” Pa McGucket said softly.  “Her technique was very good given the circumstances, but not perfect.  She’ll take a while to recover from this.”  On his face was an expression similar to the one he’d had when he first saw Stan’s Agni Kai burn.  Tension.  Disgust. Fury.  

              This isn’t something he’ll take laying down. Stan almost felt bad for the firebender who’d struck Angie with lightning.

              “Okay, but how did she do it?” Stan demanded. “That’s a firebending technique!”

              “Looked like waterbending to me,” Lute mumbled.

              “Redirecting lightning is a technique adapted from waterbending,” Stan said impatiently.  “Haven’t you ever paid attention in class?”

              “Yer not one to talk ‘bout school,” Lute shot back.

              “Boys,” Ma McGucket snapped.  Lute and Stan fell silent.  “Yes.  That was a firebending technique Angie just did.  And if it was waterbending, she’d have been able to do that, too.”

              “But- but how?” Stan asked.  “No one can bend more than one element.”  Ma McGucket met his eyes.

              “There’s one person who can.”

              “…No,” Lute whispered.  He rocked back onto his heels, covering his face with his hands. “No.  Angie’s- Angie’s-”  Stan’s mouth went dry.

              “She’s the Avatar,” he whispered.  Pa McGucket nodded.

              “Yes.  She is.”

              On the ground, Angie’s eyes flickered open. They glowed an eerie white.

----- 

              “So, how long have you guys known?” Stan asked. They were back at the McGucket farmstead, waiting for Angie to wake up.  At the insistence of the McGucket parents, they had gathered in the living room while Angie slept in her own room.  Ma McGucket sighed from her favorite rocking chair.

              “Since the day she was born, really.”

              “That’s not possible.  The tests they do to track down the Avatar don’t work that fast,” Lute protested.  He seemed unsure of how to take the news that his little sister was the Avatar.  At the moment, he’d settled on arguing every point. It was becoming increasingly more difficult for Stan to resist the urge to elbow Lute, sitting next to him on the couch.

              “No, but she was born the same day Avatar Korra passed away,” Ma McGucket said.  “And thanks to my job in the White Lotus, I soon found out those two events happened at the same time.”

              “I didn’t want her to be the Avatar,” Pa McGucket said in a low voice.  He sat in his recliner, his head in his hands.  “The responsibility, the danger the Avatar has to deal with?  I don’t want my children to have to go through that. So I held out hope that she’d be a waterbender like me.  But ‘fore she was even a year old, she showed she was an earthbender.”  Stan sat up straighter.

              “Wait, that young?” he asked.  “That’s really early for earthbending, isn’t it?”

              “Yes.  It is. Basstian was ‘bout three when he first bended a pebble.  Angie, she was causin’ earthquakes from her crib.”

              “Wow,” Stan whispered.

              “That was our first hint.  Avatars tend to start out strong like that.”  Ma McGucket quirked a small smile.  “And then, one day, I caught her playing with something I’d brought from work.  I was tasked with refurbishing the toys that have been used to determine Avatars in the past, and Angie managed to find them.”

              “She didn’t just find some of ‘em,” Pa McGucket put in.  “She found all of ‘em.  There was an enormous number of toys, and Angie gravitated towards the four that every Avatar is guided to.”

              “I asked her why she went for those, and she stared at the toys, a look in her eyes much older than her actual age, and said she knew them,” Ma McGucket said softly.  “The strength of her bending, the timing of her birth, those we could explain away.  But not this.”  She sighed. “After the difficult childhoods of the last two Avatars, the White Lotus made the decision to keep Angie’s Avatar status from her until she was eighteen.  But it seems like destiny has other plans for her.”

              “She’s sixteen, right?  That’s supposed to be the age the Avatar gets told anyways. Isn’t it?” Stan said.

              “Yes,” Pa McGucket said.  “I just wish she didn’t have to find out this way.”

              “Who’s finding out what?” a weak voice asked. All heads shot up.  Angie stood shakily in the living room entryway. “And what way are they finding out this thing?”

              “Sweetling, you shouldn’t be up!” Pa McGucket scolded, getting to his feet.  He strode over to his youngest child.

              “I know, I should prob’ly go lie down.” Angie leaned against the wall.  “I feel like I got trampled by a heard of Komodo-rhinos.”

              “Do you remember what happened?” Stan asked.

              “I remember the match.  And then you were ‘bout to get hit with lightning.  I pushed ya out of the way.  But then it came fer me.”

              “And?” Lute prompted.  Angie frowned.

              “I guess I just sort of used a last-ditch attempt and tried to redirect the lightning.  I know I ain’t a firebender, and I’ve never even seen it done before. But I’ve seen all sorts of waterbending moves, and lightning redirection is derived from waterbending.  So I went fer it.”  Angie shrugged.  “Clearly, since I’m an earthbender, it didn’t work.  I prob’ly made myself look like a right fool.”

              “No, it worked.  Better than I coulda done,” Stan said softly.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Geez, Stan, I know we’re good friends ‘n all, but ya don’t need to constantly suck up to me.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Ugh. That lightning messed me up.  I feel all kinds of weird and sick.”  She sneezed.  With the sneeze came a burst of flame.  “What in tarnation?!”  Angie stumbled back, lost her balance, and fell onto her butt.  “Stanley, that was an awfully mean joke!”

              “I didn’t do that,” Stan said.  Angie crossed her arms.

              “Well, I sure didn’t!”

              “Yes, sweetie, you did,” Ma McGucket said gently. Angie eyed her.  “You don’t believe me.”

              “Ma, I’m an earthbender, not a firebender!”

              “Hang on.”  Stan got up and walked over to Angie.  He pulled her to her feet, then summoned a small flame.  It flickered above his open palm.  Angie watched it with awe.  “Take it from me.”

              “What?”

              “Take it from me,” Stan repeated.  “Fire’s like earth.  It needs a firm hand.”  Angie’s hand hovered over Stan’s uncertainly.  “Take it.”  Angie took a deep breath.  The flame inched away from Stan to circle around her hand.  “See?”

              “I…”  Angie stared at the fire wrapped around her fingers.  “But- but how?”

              “You’re the Avatar,” Ma McGucket said.  The fire dissipated.  Angie stumbled backwards again, but this time, was caught by Stan. “Angie?  You all right?”

              “Am I allowed to say that bein’ the Avatar explains a whole lot?” Angie croaked.  The McGucket parents and Stan chuckled.

              “Yeah, I think so,” Stan said.  Angie smiled.

              “Good.  ‘Cause it does.”  She kneaded her forehead.  “…I think I need to lie down again.”

              “Sure, sure,” Pa McGucket said, putting an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.  He and his wife led Angie back to her bedroom, leaving Stan and Lute alone. Lute looked at Stan.

              “I guess she is the Avatar,” Lute said quietly.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “No shit.”

              “Shut up.”  Lute grinned cheekily.  “After all, I may be related to the Avatar, but yer the one with a crush on her.” Stan felt a surge of warmth spread through his face that had nothing to do with firebending.

              “How did you-”

              “Oh, please.”  Lute waved a hand.  “It’s as plain as the nose on yer face.”

              “I’m not the only one around here with a big nose.”

              “Fine.  It’s as plain as the nose on both our faces.  Happy?”

              “No.��  Stan looked in the direction of Angie’s room.  “Mostly just confused and a bit weirded out.”  After a moment, Lute nodded.

              “Same.”

----- 

              Lute leaned against the pasture fence, unrestrained amusement on his face as he watched Angie practice firebending katas.

              “Whatever happened to ‘I’m not good enough at firebending to be your teacher’?” he asked Stan.  Stan sighed.

              “She’s got those big green eyes.  I can’t say no when she uses them to full effect.” Angie punched the air, producing a large fireball.  “And I’m just helping her get the basics down until her actual firebending teacher shows up.”

              “She’s pretty darn eager to get started,” Lute said softly.

              “I mean, can you blame her?  She’s been watching other bending styles her whole life, feeling drawn to them.  Now she knows why and she can put it to good use.  Honestly, though?”

              “What?”

              “I think she’s most excited to learn waterbending.”

              “Really?”

              “Most of her family members are waterbenders. She told me that when she was younger she wanted to be one.”  Stan looked at Lute.  “Like you.” Lute blushed.

              “Aw, shucks.”  Lute sighed.  “As lil sisters go, she’s ‘bout the best there can be.  But aren’t ya worried about her losin’ control and burnin’ stuff down?”

              “Not really.  Earthbending requires a different kind of control than firebending, but they both need a heavy hand.  Angie’s used to keeping an element in line.”  Stan shrugged.  “Fire seems to come really naturally to her.”  Angie abruptly stopped firebending.  She looked in Stan and Lute’s direction, but past them.

              “What is it?” Stan asked.  Angie’s eyes widened.  “Good or bad?”

              “Good,” a voice said behind the young men.  Lute and Stan spun around.  “At least, I hope that’s what she thinks of us,” said the old woman.  She and an old man had walked onto the farm property, and were watching Angie thoughtfully. “What do you think?” the woman asked the man.  The man nodded.

              “She definitely has a knack for firebending. But I think I see some room for improvement.”

              “I certainly hope you do,” the woman teased. Angie ran over.  She came to a stop in front of the man and woman, then bowed deeply.

              “Master Mako, Lady Asami,” she said in a carefully controlled voice.  “It’s an honor to meet you.”  The man and woman bowed as well.

              “Avatar Angie,” the man, Mako, intoned.  Angie straightened.  Something about the lighting made her eyes look almost blue.

              “That’s no way to greet an old friend,” she said cheerfully.  The woman, Asami, covered her mouth.  “Was that too much?  Sorry.”

              “No, it’s fine,” Asami said sweetly.  “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

              “Though I don’t believe you’ve already managed to make contact with Korra,” Mako said.  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “Not that I doubt your strength.  But you’ve only just recently learned you were the Avatar.”  Angie grinned.

              “My Ma’s an earthbender, but my Pa’s a swampbender. I’m no stranger to spirits or spirituality.”

              “So you have connected with your past lives?” Asami asked.  Angie shrugged.

              “I meditated this mornin’ and heard Korra’s voice. But that’s ‘bout all.”

              “That’s a lot more than Korra had at your age,” Mako said.

              “Yeah.”  She bounced on the balls of her feet eagerly.  “So, ya watched my firebending?”

              “I did.”

              “And?”

              “It was very interesting.  You were moving with the caution and forethought of an earthbender, but the force of your bending was a lot like Korra’s.  Very excited, powerful, and with the energy of someone who jumps into combat without thinking.”  Mako rubbed his chin.  “I haven’t seen that combination of neutral jing and positive jing before.”

              “Is that…bad?”

              “I’ll have to think about it,” Mako said with a smile.  “Right now, it’s just…odd.  But while I figure out whether you need to drop the neutral jing to firebend properly, we can work on some katas.  Your forms could use refining.”  He frowned at Angie.  “Where did you learn those forms?  Pro-bending?”

              “Sort of.”  Angie jerked her thumb in Stan’s direction.  “Stan showed me.”

              “Uh, hi.”  Stan waved.  “I’m Stan.”

              “Wait, you know I’m a pro-bender?” Angie asked eagerly.  Asami laughed.

              “I still follow the game, but Mako doesn’t. I had to tell him that the new Avatar was a pro-bending champion.”  Asami smiled at Lute and Stan.  “I’m glad to see your teammates as well.”

              “We’re basically the new Team Avatar,” Stan said breezily.  Lute snorted.

              “Angie, I’m glad we were able to talk with you, but we also need to talk to your parents,” Mako said.

              “I’ll take you to ‘em,” Lute said cheerfully. He winked at Asami.  “Maybe we can talk about how much ya love my pro-bending, Lady Asami.”

              Stan and Angie watched Lute lead Mako and Asami to the house.

              “Pretty cool that they’re here, huh?” Stan asked. Angie nodded.  There was a faraway look in her eyes, which once again looked blue, despite being a bright olive-green.

              “Yes,” she said.  Her voice sounded older than her sixteen years.  “It…it was really good to see them again.”

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 8

I started out this angsty chapter with a fluffy flashback to stomp on people’s feelings, oops.

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 8:  ABBANDONO

Glossary: Mon soleil: My sun

Ten Years Ago (Mood Music: Hymne à l’amour - Josh Groban)

“So, what do you think? Red or blue?” a mild, baritone voice crooned over Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien scrutinized the shimmery fabric, slowly running his fingers over its length, his small hands not quite able to hold the entirety of the garment. “Definitely blue,” he concluded. “It’s her favorite.”

“Indeed, it is. Sapphire blue, to be exact,” Gabriel remarked, placing the gowns into their respective boxes. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, and she deserves nothing but the best. Especially on her birthday.”

“Wanna see the card I made for her?” Adrien chirped eagerly as he hopped off the chair to retrieve the aforementioned card from a nearby table.

Gabriel took the card gingerly and held it up, careful to not get any of the overabundant glitter on himself. “Hmm, your picture of– a… goat, is it?– is quite charming.”

Adrien giggled, his toothy smile displaying two missing front teeth, which he’d recently lost (and been richly recompensed for). “It’s not a goat, it’s a hamster!”

Gabriel managed to hide his surprise well. “Ah, yes, of course. Also, your handwriting has improved, and your spelling is impeccable. Perfect as always,” he remarked as he handed the card back.

“Thanks, Papa!” Adrien beamed, thrilled that his efforts were acknowledged. “I’ve been practicing!”

Gabriel smiled back fondly. He put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and said, “Come, it’s dinnertime. Let’s meet up with your mother.”

Once the card was put away, the pair traversed down the spacious halls of the mansion towards the dining room.

“I can’t wait til her surprise party on Saturday!” Adrien whispered to his father as they walked, buzzing with excitement. “I wish it was here already!”

Gabriel chuckled, amused by his son’s enthusiasm. “Well, until we figure out a way to time travel, we’ll just have to wait, and keep it a secret.”

Later that night, Emilie Agreste assisted a freshly bathed Adrien in brushing his teeth.

“Have you been enjoying your piano lessons, mon soleil?”

“Mnnnh-hnn!” Adrien mumbled approvingly.

“I’m glad. You should play for me tomorrow and show me that new piece you’ve been working on,” she replied, trying to brush out some rather stubborn hair on either side of his head. “Hmm, I can’t get these cowlicks to stay down,” she said with mock irritation. Her mouth quirked upward and she spiked the hair up even higher with her fingertips. “They kind of look like cat ears, don’t you think? You’re definitely the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen,” she joked, ruffling his soft, damp hair.

Adrien giggled, mouth still full of toothpaste.

“Except that this little kitten loooooves his bath time, doesn’t he?” she remarked as she finally succeeded in smoothing out his hair. “And you know what instruments cats play, instead of the piano?” she asked casually.

Adrien’s eyebrows rose up in silent question as he swished water in his mouth.

She leaned down by his head and playfully replied, “Purr- cussion.”

With a loud snort, Adrien sprayed water all over the bathroom mirror as he busted out laughing. Emilie giggled mischievously, doubling over with laughter at Adrien’s stupefied face.

“Mama, that was soooo cheesy!” he laughed, wiping the water and toothpaste that dribbled down his chin.

Snickering through her teeth, she replied, “Well, you still laughed, so it can’t have been that bad!”

“If Papa hears it, you’ll be in treble,” he countered, and Emilie’s snickering turned into a full-blown cackle.

Still giggling, they quickly wiped down the mirror and countertops, then strolled down the halls towards Gabriel’s office.

Emilie rapped on the door a couple of times before opening it, peering around to look for him.

Gabriel sat behind his desk, poring over his work. “Yes?” he answered as he wrote.

“Helloooo~ my darling husband,” Emilie lilted coquettishly.

Gabriel lifted his head, then smiled when he saw the two of them. “Ah, it’s my two favorite people in the world. What can I do for you?”

“Our little sunshine child is here to say goodnight,” Emilie replied, shuffling Adrien into the enormous room.

“Oh!” Gabriel glanced at the clock, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize it was that time of the day already,” he said, stretching out his stiff limbs. He pushed his chair back and waited for his son as he scampered towards him.

The seven-year-old leaped into his father’s arms, causing him to grunt slightly and making the wheeled desk chair scoot back a few inches.

Gabriel chuckled and patted Adrien’s head. “If you’re big enough to knock the wind out of me, you’re old enough to help me with all this paperwork.”

Emilie leaned on the doorframe, looking on warmly. “He’s definitely having a growth spurt; he keeps outgrowing all his clothes!”

A female voice behind her spoke, “Would you like me to order some new clothes for him, Emilie?”

Emilie turned around to face the desk on the other side of the room, and beamed. “Oh, would you, Nathalie? You’re the best!”

Adrien returned to his mother, waving back enthusiastically as he was ushered out, “Good night, Nathalie! Don’t work too hard!”

The door closed behind them and the room was quiet once again. Gabriel and Nathalie looked at each other with matching grins, silently acknowledging how Emilie and Adrien carried such life and exuberance wherever they went.

Nathalie remarked as she resumed organizing some documents, “He becomes more and more like his mother every day, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly does,” Gabriel replied as he leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Current Timeline

(Mood Music: Reborn - Abel Korzeniowski)

Chat Noir leaped and sprinted towards his mansion on autopilot; pulse thrilling, limbs aching, and yet he felt none of it. The only thing he could register was the steadily climbing resentment and indignation as he thought back to every interaction, every snub, all the unfairness, mistreatment, and neglect he’d suffered (as well as repressed) throughout the past few years.

He’d seen the signs of Gabriel’s downward spiral. They were subtle at first, but unmistakable. And yet he had stubbornly continued to ignore them. He’d even rationalized them, always coming up with some excuse or explanation so he wouldn’t have to face the music. He realized it now; his passiveness had been his gravest mistake.

Upon reaching the last building on the block before his destination, Chat skidded to a halt. In the past, when he returned home, he would take a winding route so as to lose anyone who might try to follow, and once he was sure he was alone, enter through the back way. Today, he didn't care who saw him standing on the roof in front of his home. He crouched in silence, staring at the Agreste manor; it looked just as imposing, dreary, and lifeless on the outside as it felt on the inside.

He squared himself, trying to calm his nerves. Gabriel would be expecting him. Chat bit his lip, realizing that he still had no idea what to say to him. But then again, he wasn’t the type to go into things with a plan anyway; improvisation was more his style.

Finally, he stood and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Adrien had scarcely landed in his bedroom and detransformed when he was sharply yanked by the arm towards the couch. There was a duffel bag and a pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in, as well as some toiletries and other necessities. He also spotted a large wad of cash and… was that his passport?

Nathalie shut the zipper and practically threw the bag into his arms. “Adrien, you need to leave,” she uttered low as she briskly walked him back towards the large windows, the unmistakable dread in her eyes betraying her seemingly calm exterior. “Now,” she added emphatically, noting his lack of movement.

Taken aback, Adrien stammered, “Nathalie, wha–?”

She continued, indistinct, “You’re going to get on the metro and take the train out of Paris– any destination, it doesn’t matter. Leave your phone here; he can track you if you take it with you. When you arrive, check into a hotel, then–”

“Wait! Nathalie!” he called louder to get her attention. “What’s going on?” He stared, bewildered, as Plagg peeked his head out of his shirt pocket, slowly biting into a piece of Camembert.

The woman frowned and asked rhetorically, “Were you not there during the last akuma battle?! There’s no time to discuss this; you need to leave the city.”

“Hang on, I can’t leave Paris!” Adrien protested.

She fixed him with an intense stare. “I don’t think you truly understand the situation, Adrien. Gabriel is your father, but he is also Hawkmoth. And, as of earlier today, your enemy. An enemy who knows who you are, where you live, where you sleep. Not only is he planning to take your miraculous; he’s going to place you under permanent house arrest. In fact, the term ‘house arrest’ is way too mild a description, but I’m sure you get the idea.” She took his shoulder and continued to walk him towards the window. “Now, go, before he realizes you’re here.”

Adrien knitted his brows and planted his feet. “Wait! But what about you? What about Ladybug?”

Nathalie replied dismissively, “I’ll be fine; he won’t even know I was involved with your departure. And Ladybug, she’ll continue to handle herself as she always has. But with you gone, we can at least guarantee that Hawkmoth won’t get ahold of both miraculouses, in the event that she’s defeated.”

Adrien’s eyes widened at this statement. “No. No! This is exactly why I can’t leave. I can’t leave her by herself against Father.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I won’t let what happened today happen again. She needs me. She can’t just keep defeating his akumas over and over; Father needs to be actually stopped. We need to take his miraculous away. And it’s going to take both of us to do it.”

Nathalie snapped. “You can’t beat him! He’s developed the abilities from his miraculous far beyond what you could’ve ever thought capable and unlocked much of its potential; far more than you have with your own.”

Adrien could only stare in shock as she continued to speak.

She sighed, letting go of his shoulder. “Ladybug can deal with Hawkmoth. She’ll either defeat him, or she won’t. But your priority should be to stay as far away as possible and be safe. You need to think of yourself, Adrien.”

He shook his head. “I’m done thinking only about myself. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, just blindly following orders. I need to start doing what’s right instead of always sticking to what’s safe.”

Nathalie narrowed her eyes in equal parts consternation and puzzlement. “So what will you do instead?”

Adrien set down the duffel bag and took a step away from her towards his bedroom door, motioning with his hand. “I’ll talk to him. I can reason with him, I know I can. There must be some part of him that’s still willing to listen.”

Nathalie paced back and forth, placing both hands on her face, almost as if she was trying to keep her body from exploding. With a hint of desperation, she implored, “Adrien... please reconsider.”

“Nathalie… I know you’re worried, but I can’t–” his voice cracked, and he had to pause for a few seconds. “I can’t leave Mom here with him,” he declared with finality, tone heavy and full of sadness.

Nathalie deflated and she lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He’d pulled the “Emilie” card. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to win this argument.

Somewhere deep down, Nathalie had truly always believed Emilie could be re-awakened. It was one of the biggest reasons why she’d stayed with the Agrestes all these years.

She missed her too; Emilie was her best friend. Her pillar of strength. The light in her heart. The woman that she’d always loved from afar since childhood, never acting on her feelings until it was too late. And yet, she still could never leave her side. She had to remain part of her life, even if her secret would die with her. When Emilie “disappeared”, Nathalie took it upon herself to protect everything that was most important to her beloved. She had already failed with Emilie’s husband. But she would not allow it to happen with her only son too.

She sighed heavily. “Just… be careful, Adrien. You don’t know what he’s truly capable of. I swore to Emilie that I’d do my best to take care of you, before she— before...”

Adrien walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “I know,” he said quietly, smiling, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Plagg looked up at him, concern etched on his tiny features.

Nathalie was a tall woman, but now that Adrien was older and only a few weeks shy of being an official adult, he had already surpassed her height. In spite of this, even now, she continually struggled to remember that he wasn’t a child anymore. Nathalie’s tired eyes met Adrien’s, and she shakily reached up to squeeze one of his hands, a bit harder than she’d intended but he didn’t seem to notice.

With nothing more to be said, Adrien plodded out of the room as if his legs were made of lead, and Nathalie was left alone with the overwhelming sense of foreboding raging in her chest.

(Mood Music: Morning Passage - The Hours)

Adrien stood in front of Gabriel’s office door. He could feel goosebumps forming on his arms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising. He would much prefer to hop on that long-distance train that Nathalie suggested rather than face his father, but he knew this confrontation had been a long time coming.

So he knocked.

There was no answer. A moment later he opened the door and looked inside. Gabriel was at his desk, but did not react to his presence. Nooroo sat on a pile of books, but from the looks of it, he wasn’t permitted to speak, as usual. Adrien stepped in and closed the door, but still, Gabriel would not look up from his papers.

The pit in Adrien’s stomach grew larger. Was he no longer even considered worthy to be acknowledged? The mounting frustration spurred him on as he walked further into the room.

Putting on a false confident air, he finally spoke, “Father... it’s time we really talk.”

Gabriel ignored him, casually leafing through his paperwork and scribbling in his notebook on occasion. Nooroo eyed him wearily, then back at Adrien.

Adrien straightened up to his full height, bristling with rage. “At least look at me when I talk to you!” Adrien snarled. “It’s the least you could do after everything I’ve done for you all these years!”

Gabriel finally lifted his gaze, a lofty look pasted on his face as if Adrien were nothing more than an annoying fly that entered the room.

“What is there to say? I’m sure you can predict what comes next,” Gabriel replied, leaning back on his massive chair and steepling his fingers. “However, since you obviously seem to be having trouble thinking clearly lately, I’ll give you a hint.” His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure; his voice became darker. “Effective immediately, you will surrender your miraculous, and are hereby forbidden to leave the mansion indefinitely.”

Adrien widened his eyes, not in surprise but in outrage. “No,” he stated simply.

“That wasn’t a request.” Gabriel eyed him carefully, disapproval evident in his face. “You knew this would happen when you disobeyed me. Why try to fight it?”

Adrien inhaled sharply and braced himself for what he was about to say next. “Because what we’re doing is wrong.”

The older man chuckled with that ever-present condescending air to his voice. “Since when do you care about right and wrong? This was never about being the stereotypical ‘good guys’ and changing the world one good deed at a time. This was always about gaining power. Power that we need for a perfectly legitimate reason. And now, apparently, you’ve got morals, suddenly pretending to care about others.” He fixed Adrien with a steely glare. “Life is not black and white, Adrien. My methods may seem unconventional and, I’ll admit, even controversial. But at least I’m no hypocrite.”

Adrien suppressed a growl, recoiling in vexation and distress. It was like a sack of hot coals had been dropped into his stomach, searing him with the guilt that had always been there, but had now grown tenfold. Gabriel somehow always managed to find a way to make him feel like a horrible human being.

But... he wasn’t wrong. Chat Noir was just as guilty as Hawkmoth was for putting the city in danger, even if their motives were slightly different. How could he possibly argue with him, when he was just as responsible for harming the innocent? Could his father be right? Was there no escaping the giant pit he’d dug for himself? His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t help but wilt under his father’s judgmental gaze.

It was at that moment that his mind decided to reflect upon the time he’d spent with Ladybug. Nowadays, the thought of her brought him hope and courage, for reasons he’d only recently begun to understand. She was a beautiful light that shone brighter and brighter the more he got to know her, illuminating the dark prison he’d been trapped in for so long.

He recalled how she’d apologized to him for putting him in danger as Adrien. She’d acknowledged her mistakes, then set forth to rectify them. And as Chat, who had been her enemy for years, even knowing what he’d done, she was still willing to try to help him be free. Ladybug was the only person outside of their family circle that knew about his double life. She didn’t feel that he was unworthy of redemption, and she actually believed in him. Somehow she had welcomed him as her partner despite their past, despite his background, despite knowing who his father was, despite everything.

He recognized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to accomplish anything. His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Admitting that you’re wrong is not a weakness. It’s a strength.

Adrien straightened up subconsciously, drawing courage and determination from the faith and confidence that Ladybug had in him.

“People change,” he finally replied, stepping forward. “We can both change. Father, just listen! We’ve been terrorizing the city, putting its entire population in peril for so long, and for nothing! We can’t keep doing this,” he stated, almost pleadingly.

“Oh, it’s not for nothing,” Gabriel raised his eyebrows, carefully eyeing Adrien. “Think about what happened today. About how you failed me. We would have succeeded were it not for your complete and utter ineptitude,” he continued with unconcealed irritation and disdain, his voice sounding colder and more severe now that they were talking face to face instead of through a communicator.

Adrien clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. He had to convince him. “You’re going to kill people,” he stated, fighting to keep his voice from quavering.

Gabriel tsked and waved dismissively. “Don’t be so callow. Sacrifices must be made; you and I both agreed on that long ago.”

“I was a child!!” Adrien shouted, an unbearable heat forming at the base of his neck, the tension in the room almost suffocating. “I was a scared kid who had just lost his mother and was desperate to bring her back, and you were my father! I trusted you, believed that you would know what to do!” He lowered his voice, struggling to calm down. “You failed ME, Father. Not the other way around. And if you don’t stop you’ll end up losing your whole family.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “When I succeed and you get your mother back, as undeserving as you are, you’ll see the error of your ways and beg for my forgiveness!”

“Mom will never forgive you when she finds out what you’ve done!” Adrien countered emphatically. “What WE’VE done! Father, we’ve been wrong. All these years, we’ve done something unforgivable, caused pain to so many people! But we can put a stop to this now. We can end this and together we can find another way to help mom. Ladybug can help us!”

“Do NOT bring up that insect!! You know that’s completely out of the question!” Gabriel snarled. “I will continue on my mission and so will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I can’t,” Adrien said, resolute. “I won’t," he declared, stronger now. “And I won’t let you do it either. I’m not going to let you hurt innocent people anymore. It’s not what Mom would want, and we both know it.”

Gabriel replied, enraged, “How would you know what she would want?! I’m the one who knew her best! Whether I have to force you to help me, or take your power back and use it for myself; one way or another, I WILL bring my Emilie back to life!”

Adrien felt as if he’d been physically struck. “Back… back to life?” He searched his father’s eyes in confusion. “What do you mean ‘back to life’? M-mom isn’t— she’s in a coma, she’s not... You said—”

“Your mother’s dead, Adrien,” Gabriel spat, shooting him a venomous look.

Adrien gaped at him in disbelief, struggling to keep his legs from buckling. He wanted to call his father a liar. He wanted to curse at him and yell at him at the top of his lungs that he was mistaken. But he couldn’t. Somewhere inside he knew it was true.

“You… you lied to me?”

Gabriel ignored his question. “This is why we need the miraculous of creation,” he explained, exasperated. “Your mother doesn’t need healing. She needs to be revived.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his arms, as if the whole conversation was all too irritating to have to endure. “Do you understand now? Why it’s so important to acquire those earrings?”

Adrien stood there, incredulous, in the middle of the spacious yet overwhelmingly stifling hall. Was this really happening? This was literally the subject of so many of his nightmares, where he would awaken sobbing and hyperventilating.

So why wasn’t he crying? Why wasn’t he screaming? He felt numb. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother.

His kind, beautiful mother, who had loved him, held him, protected him. His biggest source of comfort as a child, the best example of pure, unconditional love. The thought of her being gone permanently had been so devastating and overpowering that he’d desperately fought to make sure it would never come to pass, and had fiercely held onto even the tiniest sliver of hope his father had offered.

And yet, in reality, the possibility of bringing her back was so much smaller than he’d ever imagined, and it had always been that small. Had all his hopes of seeing her again been based solely on Gabriel’s shaky conjecture and ambiguous knowledge of magic? What else had his father been hiding from him?

Finally regaining control of his voice, Adrien whispered, “That means… she’s gone. She’s really gone…” He fought a sudden wave of lightheadedness and nausea, his heart beating a violent rhythm inside his chest.

“NO!! She isn’t!! ” Gabriel roared, his voice steadily rising in pitch. “She’s well within reach and I will save her. I will never surrender her. She is my wife, my soul, my everything! You don’t have the capability to even begin to comprehend the depths of my love for her.”

Adrien seethed at the insinuation that he didn’t love his own mother as much as Gabriel did, but decided to continue to try to reason with him instead of rising to the bait. “But she IS gone, Father! It’s just the two of us now! We need to accept this. We need to come to terms with the fact that she won’t be coming back so we can begin to heal! And, if we stick together and help each other, then I think… I think we can even be a family again.”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed, a dark, throaty rumble that echoed throughout the spacious room.

“Adrien,” he said finally, looking down his nose at him. “I honestly don’t give a damn what you think.”

He abruptly rose from his chair and walked towards the large portrait of Emilie, activating the hidden lift to his lair, with Nooroo trailing behind.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, unable to do anything but stand stupefied for several seconds. Snapping out of it, he stomped angrily towards the small elevator as Gabriel ascended.

“What the hell?! You are not walking away from me! We’re not done here!!” But his father didn’t even turn around.

Enraged, Adrien summoned the elevator impatiently, clearly not satisfied with his father’s sudden termination of their discussion.

Upon arrival to the dark chamber, Adrien spotted him immediately; a tall, thin figure standing by the immense window, silhouetted in the darkening early evening sky. However, the man looking out the glass was no longer Gabriel, but Hawkmoth.

Why did he transform? Adrien frowned in confusion.

The silence in the dark and cavernous room was deafening. The space had always seemed chillier than the rest of the mansion, despite the carefully temperature-controlled interiors. Hawkmoth’s form radiated hostility, and a trickle of ice slowly crept down Adrien’s spine.

“Father...?” Adrien slowly approached him, heart rate speeding up, hackles raised in sudden alarm, his gut screaming at him to run.

Hawkmoth’s head turned slightly towards him, thin lips curled into a sneer and he gave a small chuckle. The very air in the room felt oppressive, almost to the point of being suffocating.

“You worthless child,” Hawkmoth said with unveiled disgust. “I gave you the privilege of wielding the cat miraculous and it’s thanks to me that you have it to begin with. I could have taken it away permanently after I found it in your belongings years ago. I see now that letting you keep it was a mistake. You have more freedom and power than you deserve. But you forget that I’m the one with the power to destroy you.”

Hawkmoth turned around, arms resting behind his back, appearing almost unnaturally tall and imposing. He walked towards him.

“I will repeat what I said earlier. You are dismissed from your duties, Adrien. Hand over the ring, or I will take it from you,” he glowered menacingly.

Adrien took a fearful step back.

It was a trap. Hawkmoth had counted on his hotheaded and impulsive nature, and knew that he would follow him up here, where escape was most difficult.

Panic rose to his chest, but despite his heart pounding, he planted his feet and said, “P-Plagg, claws—”

Momentary blackness and a sharp pain interrupted him. His head swam and he realized he couldn’t breathe. His body twisted and squirmed, trying to escape the grip around his throat, clawing at Hawkmoth’s arms and gasping for air as he was slowly raised off the ground, upwards along the wall.

Hawkmoth yanked him away from the wall and slammed him again, disorienting him even further and weakening his grip. The edges of his vision started to blacken. He knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

Adrien kicked wildly and scratched at Hawkmoth’s arms. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Hawkmoth succeed. He couldn’t. But as his body became more and more numb and his struggling slowly decreased, he was quickly losing hope. Unwelcomed tears pricked at his eyes as he looked into the eyes of the man who had raised him.

His father.

Despite all of his neglect and emotional abuse, Gabriel had never laid a finger on him.

But, Adrien now realized, this was not Gabriel. Not anymore. Only Hawkmoth remained. Gabriel was gone. His entire family had been torn away from him within the span of mere minutes.

Would anyone miss him if he was gone too?

A wave of emotion flitted across his face. Nathalie, Nino, Alya, Marinette. Ladybug. Would she miss him? Would she know what happened to him? Would the next time she encountered Chat Noir be through a different wielder? The thought of Gabriel being in possession of the power of destruction terrified him, and made him fear for Ladybug’s life. Adrien had sworn that he would protect her. If his father got ahold of his miraculous, she would be in more danger than he could have ever fathomed. He had to escape… he had to… he...

The veil of blackness grew and Adrien ceased his struggling altogether, having no strength remaining. But before his eyes rolled back, a black flash zoomed directly at Gabriel’s face, knocking him back in surprise.

Adrien crumpled to the ground, panting and coughing, while Plagg whizzed around Hawkmoth, the latter growling in outrage. Adrien looked up at them, clutching at his aching throat, his vision slowly returning to normal.

Hawkmoth finally succeeded in swatting Plagg away, and his tiny body was thrown towards the far wall.

Adrien attempted to call out to him, but only succeeded in releasing a strangled wheezing sound.

To his surprise, Plagg performed a graceful twist and landed on all fours. He pushed himself off the wall and puffed up his tiny chest.

“Is that all you’ve got, you pansy??” he taunted, accompanied with a rude gesture at Hawkmoth that suggested he perform an action of dubious anatomical probability to himself. Then he zipped back towards Hawkmoth, lashing his tail against the villain’s face with audible slaps, hissing and snarling like the cat he was.

Adrien couldn’t help but smirk. Seeing Plagg’s courage fueled his willpower and, despite his painful, labored breathing and a metallic taste in his mouth, he rose to his feet with a slight sway. He became woozy from the change in altitude, but nevertheless, a fiery determination blazed in his eyes.

With a renewed vigor, Adrien managed to croak out, “Plagg, claws out.” A bright flash of green illuminated the room.

Roaring ferociously, Hawkmoth unsheathed his sword and charged at Chat, who barely had enough time to block with his staff.

The two clashed in vicious combat, their strikes quick and merciless. Chat bounced around, dodging and parrying, taking full advantage of his catlike agility to avoid incoming attacks. Hawkmoth was relentless in his pursuit, always surging forward, never hesitating or taking a step back.

Hawkmoth’s masterful swordsmanship was unrelenting and intense. It had been years since they sparred and practiced together. The difference between his fighting style now, compared to how it was long ago, was stark. It was as if he were fighting a completely different person, one who focused solely on offense; one that aimed to kill, not incapacitate.

With a grunt, Hawkmoth swung his sword in a wide slash, and Chat was unable to block the full blow. A trickle of blood traveled down his arm, and Chat couldn’t help but stare at it.

He hurt him. Actually hurt him. It wasn’t a trick, an attempt to get the ring. A ploy he’d apologize for and claim ’Adrien, you made me do it’. His father was trying to actively injure him. The reality that this wasn’t some bad dream came crashing down on him, in the most physical sense. He looked up at disbelief at his father–or whoever he was at this point.

Chat continued to parry Hawkmoth’s brutal jabs and slashes, but occasionally one would penetrate his defenses. Before he knew it, he was riddled with cuts and scratches.

He panted heavily, lungs burning, heart pounding, and muscles aching. He looked up at his enemy, who wasn’t even breathing hard; not a single bead of sweat dotted his brow.

Chat made a desperate lunge at him, hoping to momentarily stun him so he could catch his breath. But in his exhaustion, he was careless, his movements sloppy.

The next thing he registered was simply pain. An excruciating, stabbing pain on his torso.

Chat let out a ragged scream, sagging against a wall and crumpling to the ground, clutching at the throbbing slash on his side. Breathing became excruciating.

And yet, he forced himself to his feet. He took a step. Then another. He reached for his staff and got back into a defensive stance.

Hawkmoth’s lips twitched upwards, amusement dancing in his eyes. Chat could have even sworn it almost looked like pride, but surely that was impossible.

Chat leaped towards him with a downwards strike of his staff, which was easily blocked, and they resumed their skirmish. Hawkmoth advanced on him, drawing out the combat comfortably, and yet Chat became more and more winded by the second. He looked around, searching in vain for any object that could be used to his advantage.

Rivulets of sweat traveled down his face and neck and it was then that his eyes widened in realization.

He’s toying with me. He just wants to tire me out.

Sensing his hesitation, Hawkmoth slashed at Chat’s leg with a long horizontal swipe. Chat howled in pain, collapsing onto the cold, hard tile once again.

Hawkmoth roughly lifted him by the right arm and yanked him towards the small table in the center of the room. He threw him down with a loud thunk and held him down by the wrist. Chat was too weak to wrest himself out of the ironclad grasp, not even able to put up the slightest hint of resistance.

Hawkmoth lifted his sword, readying himself to strike downwards. Chat looked up, eyes hazy and disoriented. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

“Surrender, or lose your ring the hard way,” Hawkmoth hissed, his face half concealed in shadow.

Chat looked up at him in confusion. Why not just take the ring from his finger, since he clearly wasn’t in any condition to fight anymore?

“Father…” Chat croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The corner of Hawkmoth’s mouth quirked upwards into a cruel sneer. “I’m teaching you a lesson. After all, disobedient children must be disciplined.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide in terror. He’s really going to do it. Is… Is this how it ends for me? In my own home, broken, and alone?

On the verge of despairing, a soft, loving voice spoke from the corner of his mind:

“You’re not alone anymore, Chat.”

Ladybug’s kind words washed over him like a gentle, cooling breeze, easing his fear and filling his heart with hope. Whatever happened, Hawkmoth must never get ahold of the ring.

A small flicker of an idea crossed his mind.

Chat scoffed and remarked sarcastically, “You picked an odd time to finally decide to start parenting.” He looked up at him, raising his free hand. “But you’re not the only one who’s got a few tricks up their sleeve.”

Hawkmoth paused, eyeing him curiously.

Chat gave him a final smirk and said calmly, “Cataclysm.”

Hawkmoth’s face contorted in surprise, and he let out an infuriated shout as Chat’s left palm touched the floor.

Unbeknownst to him, Chat had gained the ability to summon Cataclysm through both hands, and not just through the one that wore the ring. Hawkmoth had been counting on him not being able to use his power without uselessly destroying the table his right (ring) hand was resting on.

Long, spidery veins stretched across the entire floor, slowly spreading their sickly, rusted blackness. Losing his balance as the ground crumbled beneath them, Hawkmoth let go of Chat’s wrist and leaped backwards, away from the epicenter of destruction.

Moments later, Hawkmoth rose from the rubble, pushing some debris off of himself in irritation. The dust had cleared somewhat, and the dim light of the sunset entering through the window illuminated the room once again.

Finally coming back to his senses, Hawkmoth’s head whipped back and forth, searching across the chasm. But it was too late. Chat was already gone.

Consumed with both disbelief and rage, he let out a loud scream; raw, savage, and haunting.

(Mood Music: Like I’m Going to Lose You - Meghan Trainor, Eric Chou cover)

Marinette leisurely stepped out the side door of the bakery humming a soft tune, carrying a large bag of trash. With a grunt, she hefted the bag into a waste bin along the edge of the sidewalk for morning pickup. She stretched out her tired limbs, reaching her hands over her head and admiring the soft hues of the darkening sky.

She yawned as she opened the door to go back inside, but stopped in her tracks. A sudden, insistent feeling pricked and prodded at her insides, urging her to turn around. Something didn’t feel right. Seconds ticked by; then a whole minute. It just didn’t make sense to feel so uneasy.

Sighing resignedly, she decided to follow her instincts even though nothing in the area seemed out of the ordinary.

And so Marinette sat on the steps, keeping her eyes peeled for anything odd and her ears open for anything unusual. Several minutes passed. But there was nothing. No akumas, no old ladies in distress, no cats stuck in trees.

Tikki phased through the door discreetly, having grown concerned about Marinette’s absence, as she’d only planned to be gone for less than a minute.

“Marinette? Is anything wrong?” Tikki whispered as she zipped behind Marinette’s neck, hidden by a long curtain of midnight hair.

Marinette shrugged, hugging her arms around herself as a rather ineffective shield from the crisp evening air. “I don’t know, Tikki. I just… I had a strong feeling that I needed to be out here.” She sighed softly. Maybe it wasn’t her instinct after all, but leftover jitters from her near death experience earlier that day.

“We could check, to make sure. Let’s take a small stroll around the block before going back inside, just in case,” Tikki suggested. Marinette nodded in agreement and stood, reluctant but compliant.

The walk around the neighborhood was… uneventful.

Marinette quirked her mouth to the side in consternation and murmured low so only Tikki could hear, “Well… no news is good news, right?”

Tikki made a small humming sound, not quite convinced. However, she knew that ever since Marinette had begun developing and strengthening more of her miraculous’ abilities over the years, that there were bound to be a few false alarms.

And so, Marinette began heading home. Tikki leaned her tiny head on her charge’s shoulder, no longer on alert but still keeping an eye out.

And then she saw him.

“MARINETTE!!” Tikki whisper-screamed, yanking on the hair by her left ear to get her to turn her head.

Marinette winced. “Ow! Tikki! Why did y-“ The words died in her throat. Her eyes widened like saucers and her breath escaped her as if she’d been punched in the gut.

A slim, black form was slumped against a wall inside a tiny, darkened nook between buildings. Marinette recognized it instantly.

She dashed towards him, heart pounding in terror and confusion. Her eyes darted around as she crossed the street to look for an assailant, but saw no one.

She fell to the ground next to him, quickly examining him. His breathing was labored, but he was alive. Barely. He was struggling to stay conscious, clearly exhausted, and his belt was tightly wrapped around his thigh to stop the bleeding from a large wound.

“Chat Noir!!? What happened?!” she cried, aghast and horrified by his condition.

Her voice jolted him out of his haze and his eyes popped open in alarm. He seemed to recognize her and his eyes softened, looking relieved and almost… trusting?

She tried again. “What happened?! Who did this to you?”

Chat froze, glancing around the area nervously, like he was searching for something.

“I… I… I gotta go,” he said in a rush, extending his staff to help him stand.

Marinette frowned in surprise. “Wait! What are you doing??”

“I can’t stay here,” he insisted, limping away from the wall and aiming to vault to the top of the building.

“What?! Why??” she demanded, rushing to stand in front of him.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t get you involved. Please, go home, it could be dangero- AUGH!” He bit down on a pained cry, clutching his injured torso. He panted heavily, face twisted in agony. Nevertheless, he continued with his objective as he tried to walk around Marinette.

She pulled him back before he could flee. “No! Stop! You’re in no condition to go anywhere! We need to get you some help!”

“Mar–Mademoiselle, please…” he said, his eyes pleading. “Forget we ever met. You might be in danger if you’re seen with me.”

Marinette stood her ground and firmly walked him back towards the wall, gripping the top of his staff with her other hand in defiance.

“NO,” she repeated emphatically.

Chat faltered, and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him all at once. His eyes became glazed and he swayed forward, head spinning. His legs buckled and he sagged against her with a pained groan. Marinette caught him and managed to ease him down to the ground, where she held him close, wrapping her arms around him to lend him her warmth.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “Heh, you’re stubborn. I like that.”

Cheeky, her eyes squinted in slight amusement.

“I’m not the only one,” she countered, giving him a small smile.

He looked at her with a soft expression on his face, gently placing his hand on top of hers. “You’re also really sweet.” Marinette could feel her face heat up despite herself.

Before either could say anything more, his ring beeped.

Chat shifted in surprise, but his wounded side twitched in painful protest. He clutched it tightly with his other arm, hissing in distress. Marinette winced and drew him closer, trying to offer a small measure of comfort. She could feel his body trembling.

“C-could you do something for me?” Chat asked apprehensively, voice cracking.

Marinette blinked, somewhat stunned. “Of course,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He bit his lip, eyes glistening. “Will you… will you please tell her that I’m sorry?” he croaked out, voice full of regret and sadness. “That I didn’t mean to leave her?”

Marinette’s stomach felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. Fear gripped her and she clutched him desperately. “Chat, NO! You’re going to be fine!! Stay with me!”

Chat squeezed her hand and murmured with difficulty, “I’m so sorry, Marinette. For everything.”

Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

[risottostitties]

Secret Santa!

I’m back from vacation woo!

This is a secret santa thing I participated in with @staruplatinum‘s discord. This is actually for @staruplatinum because I was her secret santa lol. I hope you enjoy it! I tried my best I promise!

Please check the tags before reading

Discovery

It was the third day in a row that Abbacchio had been awoken by the sound of vomiting from the bathroom connected to the room he shared with Nina. While normally such a sound wasn’t new to him, they both enjoyed their alcohol a bit too much if he was being honest, they hadn’t had any the previous night. Or the night before, out of concern that she might be getting sick. So the fact that Nina was waking up in the morning and immediately vomiting immediately put the lilac haired man on edge. What could be causing this? She didn’t feel feverish.

“Have you considered going to a doctor?” He asked, rolling out of bed to gently scoop his girlfriend’s hair out of the way as she heaved. They hadn’t eaten yet, so mercifully this spell of sickness would be brief.

It seemed like she was getting sick more and more often lately. Buccellati had to stop ordering shellfish because the smell made her sick.

“I already considered that, appointment’s this afternoon. I figured that if it was something important I’d tell you after.” Nina admitted, standing on shaky legs and flushing the toilet before going to clean her mouth out.

“Do that.” Abbacchio hummed, watching as she brushed her teeth with an expression softer that what people would expect out of a man like him.

It was hard not to feel soft, not to look at her with such complete adoration. After all, he’d never have anticipated finding himself in such perfect domesticity. It made this bout of illness all the more concerning for him. He hopped to hear nothing but good news from the doctor soon.

 Month 3

Well, as it turns out, it was news alright.

“What do you want to do about this?” The unsure waver in Nina’s voice made his heart clench.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant, and unless there was something else going on it was his. According to the blood work, and the imaging she’d gone in for, she was about twelve weeks in, or approaching the end of the first trimester. There was time, theoretically, to end things before they became a real problem. Kids were never in the picture. In their line of work it was far too dangerous, and what’s more to have him as a father. To come into this world in the shadow of a failure such as himself. To grow up knowing your dad was not only a criminal but a coward and a disgrace as well; wasn’t that just too cruel?

What was he supposed to do? On one hand it would be easier to tell the kid everything from the start, to not allow them to idolize their father and grow up with the false notion that he was a man worthy of their admiration. If they were going to hate him anyway, why would he prolong the inevitable. Was it not cruel to allow the kid to build up a version of him in their head only to have it torn down as soon as they were able to investigate their father’s name?

Of course, this was assuming there would be a child at all.

“We should-“

“I want to keep them.” Nina’s voice prevailed over Abbacchio’s reluctant admission.

It startled him into silence.

“Why would-“ Why was he getting choked up. “It’s a bad idea, with our lives. They’ll be in constant danger.”

“We’re strong enough to protect them. Leone-“ Oh god, there she went. Using his first name. Even after all this time, he still felt his heart skip a beat when she said his name with such a reverent, adoring tone. “I want this. Us. Our family.”

Who was he to say no when she looked up at him like that. Eyes dewy, expression both hopeful and unsure. If he really wanted to, he could probably talk her out of it. But then for a brief second he pictured it. A little boy with her eyes and his nose, chubby and healthy in his mother’s arms. And he wanted it so much, it caused him to ache.

And although he was still wildly unsure… he found himself nodding.

“Our family.” He agreed, closing the distance between them with a quick step and leaning down to capture her lips with his.

He couldn’t tell if the salt he tasted was from her tears of his.

 Month 4

Emotional announcement aside, Abbacchio still had his doubts about the whole pregnancy thing. Morning sickness was killer, and he couldn’t do much to fight off the mounting guilt when he awoke in the morning to his girlfriend hunched over the toilet heaving on an empty stomach. He did this to her after all.

But as though she could read his mind, Nina was always there to reassure him. And soon, he started to warm up to the idea of being a dad. Even as the cravings started to kick in and he found himself up at odd hours of the night, Leone Abbacchio couldn’t remember ever feeling happier. They had decided to keep it their little secret for as long as they could.

Their friends were good people, but they were loud people. And, something about the quiet domesticity the two of them shared together; the beginning of their own little family, something about that was just too nice to give up quite yet.

Although it was only a matter of time before someone found out.

 Month 5

“Nina, did you want any wine with your meal?” Bruno’s good natured question caused the woman to pause, and for Abbacchio to tense up.

“Oh no, no thank you. Not this time.” Her response was just a touch nervous, and Bruno honed in on that like a blood hound. Sometimes his ability to read people was a curse to all of them.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, softly. A question that was quickly overshadowed by Narancia’s boisterous proclamation.

“You haven’t been drinking much either Abbacchio, what gives? Finally going back on the wagon?” The young man adjusted his bandana as he looked up from his homework. “Can’t manage without your little girlfriend?”

The smug smile on the teenager’s face immediately put Abbacchio in a bad mood, but instead of retaliating he simply reached for his glass of water. They had been told to try and reduce stress on Nina as much as possible, it wasn’t good for the baby. And Abbacchio snapping at people did little to relieve stress.

“None of your business.” He settled on that, which only seemed to fuel the fire.

“What, you pregnant or something Abbacchio?” It was meant as a joke obviously, but the silver haired man almost choked on his water; sputtering as he tried to catch his breath.

“Shit man I’m kidding! I didn’t think it’d get you that bad!” Mista was quick to offer his apologies, and a napkin.

“Abbacchio?” Bruno’s soft, but pointed question, left little room for the silverette to worm his way out of things.

Thankfully, Nina stepped in before he could mutter something under his breath.

“They’re due in December.”

And with that, all hell broke loose.

 Month 6

Between the obnoxious ribbing from Narancia and Mista, there was a genuine happiness that filled the small private room in the back of their favorite restaurant. It wouldn’t be easy of course, raising a family in this kind of life. But with an army of over protective uncles it seemed like the kid would have a good start as any.

Nina was starting to really show now, as the doctor had warned them. Once the second trimester reached its end things would progress much faster than they had before. Nina had been removed from active duty because of her condition, something she protested greatly about. But Bruno would be hearing none of it. She had a child to nurture, he chided, she couldn’t be putting her life at risk anymore. Neither of them could. Soon, they would have someone very precious relying on them.

So both Nina and Abbacchio found themselves on ‘light duty’ so to speak. Abbacchio rarely rent on any dangerous jobs anymore. Bruno had taken to using Mista as his back up in Abbacchio’s place. Which, he supposed, was fine. Despite being dense, the gunslinger had a good head on his shoulders, and he was dependable. And, as much as the former police officer and his partner hated being left out of things it certainly wasn’t the case that they had nothing to do.

“I don’t have any fucking idea how this works. This is stupid, they won’t even remember the damned nursery why does it have to be so complicated? Just put them in a fucking box or something and be done with it.” He’d been working at this crib for over an hour now, and frankly Abbacchio was starting to lose his patience.

“Leone. If you imply our child deserves to sleep in a cardboard box in front of me one more time, you’ll be the one sleeping on a box.” Nina sat happily in a rocking chair (the first of many gifts from Godfather Bruno) munching on some plantain chips.

“Do you want to help then?” He asked, pulling back to adjust the bun he’d thrown his hair into.

“Hmm… no. I’m good thanks. I’m busy growing a foot.” Nina’s grin split wider at the exasperated expression on her partner’s face. “Besides, if you really hate the crib we can always co-sleep.”

The crib was finished later that evening.

 Month 7

“So you don’t want to know the gender? Why not? It’d be a pain in the ass to buy all these new clothes if it turned out you had the wrong one.” Narancia asked, watching as Nina opened his gift.

Somehow he’d managed to get a baby onsie emblazoned with ‘All Eyez On Me’ album cover. Very much a little boy outfit. Complete with the sneakers and a hat.

“You fucking moron, this is why I told you to find something gender neutral. I knew I should have bought your present for you.” Fugo grumbled, shoving his present towards Nina next.

“Oh yeah, a strawberry outfit is totally gender neutral. What little boy would be caught dead in that?” Narancia snapped back, and Fugo jumped from his chair. The clattering sound made Nina wince.

“You spoiled my gift before she could open it you cretin! I’m going to end your whole bloodline you filthy fucking-“ And there he went, Fugo was pissed again.

“Oi! If you’re going to fight take it outside!” This, thought Abbacchio, was why they had tried to keep it a secret for so long.

Thankfully though, that seemed enough to stop any further altercations and Fugo muttered an apology before fixing his chair.

“You sound like a dad.” Mista joked, already on his second slice of cake.

“That’s because he is one. Thank you Narancia, Fugo, they’ll love the clothes.” Nina spoke, admiring the cute strawberry printed onsie (and lamenting the fact that it was mostly white, that wouldn’t last long) before putting it carefully with the other gifts.

Mista had given them blankets, five of them (a good number! He claimed) and had even taken the time to show Abbacchio how to swaddle a wine bottle in them. Apparently, Mista was quite good with kids. He never talked much about his former life, but he admitted to having several younger siblings. The ex cop found himself impressed. Although the thought of asking the gunslinger for any help made his stomach coil. Nina on the other hand, seemed to have none of those qualms.

“Mine’s a bit big. I’ll help you get it back to your apartment, but please open it here. I’d like to see what you think.” Bruno spoke up last, offering up a box larger than the others they’d seen before.

“You already bought most of the nursery furniture, Capo. You really didn’t have to get another gift!” It was true, as Nina had said. Bruno had taken it upon himself to furnish the nursery. They should be saving their money, he said, and he wanted to make sure his godchild had appropriate furniture.

“It’s the last one, I promise.” Abbacchio had the feeling it wasn’t the case, but as he helped Nina cut the tape off the box, those thoughts faded.

It was a mobile, with fish and boats and other aquatic creatures carefully hand crafted from wood with sea glass safely secured and dangling from fishing wire. It looked lovingly made and Abbacchio had to do a double take.

It wasn’t until after the party that he had the chance to ask Bruno what the deal was.

“Did you buy that yourself? The mobile. Its beautiful but, you didn’t have to go out of the way for that. The brat won’t remember it anyway.” He asked, taking one last cig break before he and Nina returned to their apartment.

“It was mine.” That gave the taller man pause. “My father held on to it. I found it in the attic a few years ago, and didn’t have the heart to throw it away. I’m happy to know it’ll get good use again. It deserves to be hung up, instead of collecting dust.”

“You should save it for your own kids.” Abbacchio spoke, before taking another drag and offering it to Bruno, who declined with a wave of his hand.

“It’s better put to use now, don’t you think?” Bruno’s expression was far off, and Abbacchio couldn’t read it. So instead of responding is simply shrugged, exhaling his final drag and putting the smoke out with his foot before returning to the restaurant to collect his pregnant partner.

Bruno followed and helped them load everything into the car. The unreadable expression gone from his face.

 Month 8

It was getting close. Braxton Hicks contractions were starting to appear. They had scared the shit out of the two of them the first time it happened. It was far too early and they had panicked, rushing to the hospital despite having been told what to expect this late into the pregnancy.

Nervous energy was abound between the two of them. Nina was officially on bedrest. She had been getting weaker and the doctors erred on the side of caution. There was little to worry about, they assured, they just decided to be safer rather than sorry. Leone couldn’t disagree with that, although he was glad that the whole pregnancy thing was almost done. Nina looked like she would kill someone if she had to remain cooped up in their bedroom for too much longer.

It was late, and while Leone had stopped drinking in solidarity with Nina he couldn’t help but want a sip to calm his nerves. Instead though, he walked around the apartment (trying to mind his feet so he didn’t wake his sleeping partner, the pregnancy made her a light sleeper) and took stock of their little home. Their life together.

It was new, better than the one bedroom they’d shared. Bruno helped them get into a neighborhood with a good school. Their rent was affordable, and their neighbors were friendly. IT was all so domestic, it felt like a dream. Or a cruel prank. He half expected to wake up on the couch hungover but that had yet to happen.

He paused, looking into the nursery. Bruno’s mobile was strung up over the crib. The room was simple, white furniture with light blue walls. With the mobile they added a few more ‘nautical’ things into the décor. Striped sheets in the cribs, some bubble decals on the wall, but over all it was a simple and calming room. The shelves were lined with books and blocks and other baby toys, and the stuffed animals they had been gifted were safely tucked away out of the crib. In less than a month there would be someone living here.

Leone took a seat in the rocking chair and observed, not even noticing as he nodded off to sleep.

In the morning he awoke with a blanket covering him, and he got up. Nina had no business being on her feet covering up her idiot partner. Ah, partner. That needed to change soon. Husband sounded better. But that was for later. Once the kid was born, then Abbacchio could worry about making his girlfriend his wife. Some would say it was out of order.

Abbacchio hoped to encounter them one day so they could say it to his face. See how well that worked out for them.

 Month 9

How did it come to this? How had he allowed it to come to this? Abbacchio knew the kind of man he was, the kind who took the cowards way out of things. The kind who would rather turn to underhanded bribes than admit the futility of his work. The kind of man who allowed an innocent man to die for his mistakes. The kind of man who fucked up everything he touched. It only stood to reason that someday, eventually, he would ruin this as well.

He should have put an end to this when the problem first reared its head. Instead here he was, taking a drag from a rancid cig he bummed off a nurse to try and take the edge off of things. It was snowing, almost Christmas. This would have been their first Christmas.

Everything was wrong.

It all happened so fast. Things were going fine, labor was long but not unnaturally so. It was about five hours in when the baby’s heart beat started dropping. Emergency c-section. She seemed fine. The baby came, a girl, shockingly enough. And then Nina started slurring her words. It all happened so fast, he was being rushed out of the room by a nurse and the last thing he heard was the slowing of a heart monitor.

Twenty minutes later a doctor came to offer his apologies, and a child. Abbacchio had turned and left then, unable to handle the weight of what just happened. Shoving past Bruno (the only one allowed to be there for the birth) he ran from the hospital; coward that he was. And here he found himself, smoking to try and… what? Numb something? He was already numb. The cold helped with that. Perhaps if he stayed out here long enough, he’d risk hypothermia. He’d be doing everyone a favor right, freezing to death outside the hospital. It was abundantly clear to Abbacchio that he ruined every good thing that had the misfortune of encountering him.

Perhaps it would be best if he vanished from this kid’s life before he had the chance to infect that too. Or perhaps he’d doomed the kid of a life full of hardship by virtue of being the son of a bitch that fathered it. Her. It was a her. They had a name picked out. It was-

“Are you going to keep the name Sophia?” The only person capable of piercing through Abbacchio’s haze of self-depreciation had come outside to meet him.

How Bruno managed to get the baby out of the hospital so soon after it was born, who knows. Or perhaps he just became numb to the passage of time along with the cold. How long had it been already? Who knows? Who cared. But there she was, bundled up tightly in her hospital blankets and Bruno’s own coat for good measure.

“I’m not keeping anything.” Abbacchio huffed a long drag from his cigarette, having the decency to at least blow away from his friend and the child he held.

“Leone.”

“Bruno.”

His friend’s normally gentle face was furrowed into an expression of distaste. Always so righteous, of course Bruno would take issue with his decision. He still clung to the belief that Abbacchio was worth something, a dangerous notion considering that now there was a child in the mix. Bruno was a smart man, but perhaps their friendship had blinded him to the reality of the situation-

“She loved you and Sophia very much, you of all people should know that.” Bruno tried, only for Leone to take another drag from the smoke.

“A horrible choice on her part.”

“Leone.”

“What, Bruno? What do you want?” That was it, Bruno had found Leone’s breaking point and fuck, if he wanted a reaction out of him so bad, he had it. “Do you want me to be on my knees bawling in the hospital room? Should I be clinging to her hand, shaking her body, begging for her to wake up? What kind of reaction would please you Bruno?”

He threw the cigarette down and stomped it into the slush.

“What am I supposed to do?” Abbacchio could hear his voice crack, knees hitting the cold snow as his legs gave out.

It was amazing, how quickly rage could turn to sadness. Nina had borne witness plenty of times, as had Bruno. This was nothing new for either man, but there was a certain weight to it now. Nina was gone. She wasn’t coming back. If she were here she would be on her knees with him. She’d hold him close, let him scream into her shoulder and cling to her hard enough to bruise (something he always felt horrible for after). And in the end, she’d be there to fix his makeup. Sometimes they’d both need to touch things up; she wound up crying with him.

He’d have her sit on the bathroom counter as he fixed the delicate wing of her eyeliner. They’d tease each other over their puffy eyes and still runny nose. It was like a ritual between them almost, doing each other’s makeup. It wouldn’t happen again though, and the realization washed over him like a cold wave. He missed the numbness then, as he choked out an undignified sob. It was so much easier to be numb.

“Leone.” He could hear the crunch of slushy snow in front of him as Bruno knelt, careful not to jostle the child too much. She was already getting fussy from her father’s loud outburst. “I can’t help you. You need to help yourself. But I can be there for you, and for Sophia.”

“I’ll fuck that up too.” Abbacchio managed, unable to lift his eyes from the ground to look at the child beginning to fuss in Bruno’s arms. She already hated him it seemed. The sound of his voice was enough to make her squirm in discontent. He couldn’t blame Sophia.

“Sophia doesn’t seem to think so.” Bruno’s soothing voice did little to calm the infant, but it began to work on Abbacchio. The tears had yet to dry, but a feeble hiccup signaled the end of his sobbing.

“She’s trying to get away from me.” As if on cue the baby squirmed more, turning her head from her father.

“I think she’s just scared.” Bruno corrected, shifting the baby in his arms. “Leone, try holding her.”

“What?” That caused Leone to snap to attention. “You can’t be serious.”

He had very little time to react though, as Bruno deposited the infant into his arms. Abbacchio had to fumble a bit to support the head, but once things were in order it felt almost… natural.

He stood then, trying to dry what wsa left of his tears off on his shoulder. The kid looked kinda like both parents. She had some wispy pale hairs. Were those from him? Or would she grow dark hair like her mother? Sophia was still fussy, a spirited little thing it seemed, and although her eyes were mostly shut against the cold he could see the tiniest little sliver of purple and gold. She had his eyes.

She had. His eyes.

It was a simple realization, nothing remarkable. It didn’t do anything to quell the ache growing more and more apparent in the place in his heart Nina had occupied. It didn’t lead to any grand epiphany of how he was going to handle the future without her at his side. Nina had been his rock, his confidant, the person he loved most in the world and the one person capable of making Abbacchio see through the haze of self-loathing to imagine a better future. And she was gone. There was nothing that could replace her, and he didn’t want anything to replace her. If he hurt, it meant that she had been there once, right? The fact that her passing left such gaping hole was proof, in its own way, that she had really loved him. And that he, the failure Leone Abbacchio, had been capable to returning that love. Worthy of accepting that love.

And the physical proof was here in his arms. A mixture of Nina and himself. A gift that she had lavished so much time and love on, and had worked so hard to bring into the world. And what a job she did. Sophia was healthy, and energetic if the way she squirmed was any indication. Nina would have been so proud, so happy to have been her mother. Sophia couldn’t replace Nina. She couldn’t do anything to fill the voice her mother left behind. But it was strange, there was a new spot now. A new hole, but instead of emptiness it overflowed. He had to take a shaky breath to try and steady himself. It was overwhelming, the feelings of grief and loss and love mixing together. He could feel himself crying again, although for a new reason.

“Leone?” Bruno asked, having gotten up out of the slush himself.

“I’ll try.” It was all Abbacchio could manage as he again used his shoulders to try and dry his face. It was enough though, and as the new father began to bounce his daughter to try and soothe her, the two men headed back into the hospital together.

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

unlonely [michael m. x reader] pt.1

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

oh SHIT. oh SHIT lads??? a part one??? but percy u never number the first parts!!!

yeah thats because i usually dont expect myself writing another part sdkfjhds but this? ive been planning this fic for a fuckin while now and it’s about time that i finish this and post it instead of yknow... starting part two and giving myself at least a beginning BUT oh well man i was excited and wanted to post this dskjfhds

also this went through multiple titles. unlonely ended up being the winner. brownie points if y’all know the song.

warnings: i dont think theres anything big other than like. my general swearing warning. 

            To say that you were friends with anyone at Middleborough would have been a complete lie. You knew people, sure, but you’d never really built up a connection with anyone past small jokes in-class and sometimes the rare invite for you to join them at lunch. For the most part, you’d been a loner - and that was how you liked it. It left you to sit alone at lunch and focus on your art, or for you to focus on getting homework done because you had Final Fantasy XV waiting for you at home and you were just about to help Iris with shit before you realized you wouldn’t have been able to save. You used your time wisely, and spent your free time at home, sometimes in a Discord call with a couple video game buddies who you’d met via Overwatch. But you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a couple people in your classes that you’d wished you’d talk to. One of those people had been Michael Mell, music enthusiast and video game aficionado. For the most part, you didn’t really know much about him past the fact he almost always had headphones around his neck, the fact he was best friends with Jeremy Heere (someone you’d honestly written off as a geek, and honestly, potential friend material since something told you that the two of you would have hit it off), and the fact he had various video game keychains since he had the habit of throwing down his keys during AP Biology - the only class the two of you shared where he sat right next to you, by some stroke of luck.

            So when Jeremy Heere suddenly changed completely and left Michael in the dust, you decided you’d give him a week. One week to stop being a huge dick and talk to the guy who’d apparently been Michael’s best friend for the past twelve years, according to some kid in your math class. You’d watched Michael try to grab his attention while in the hall as Jeremy strode past him, ignoring him for the entire day in order to spend time with people like Rich Goranski and Chloe Valentine - neither of who you disliked, but people that surprised you that they’d spend time with Jeremy Heere. 

            One week and two days later, you found yourself trying to find something to talk to Michael about that wasn’t video games. You gave that up quickly during the last fifteen minutes of AP Bio.

            You, in an attempt to find a conversation started, ended up stared at his key-chains: a buster sword, a diamond pickaxe, a round Pac-man with an open mouth, and a flat Nintendo game-boy. You settled on the buster sword, licking your lips and swallowing any doubt that had begun to pool in your stomach. “Did you hear about the remake?” You’d asked, and for a moment Michael hadn’t realized you’d been talking to him until he finally tore his eyes away from his phone, meeting your gaze. You smiled, “for uh, Final Fantasy-”

            He nodded before you could give the number. “Yeah, uh - I heard,” he said, wary of your sudden presence. You shifted uncomfortably at that - maybe you should have opened up with something different.

            “Yeah - uh, I never really got a chance to play the original since my older brother took his PlayStation and all his games when he moved out - but I’m excited for the remake! I’m hoping that it’ll live up to the fame of the original,” you said, keeping up a smile and acting as confident as you could. “I’m hoping that maybe when I visit him, I can play a bit.”

            Michael blinked in the sight of you, surprised you were still talking to him. He half-expected that spark of conversation to die out as quickly as it had flamed. But he reached up, tugging slightly at his headphones, and sat slightly straighter. “It’s honestly one of the best games in the series. The soundtrack alone is fantastic,” he said, starting to warm up to you, “you should definitely listen to it at least.”

            “I have!” You chirped, smiling, “yeah - my brother used to play video game soundtracks in the mornings when he’d drive me to school. He said something about it being nice, and then would always make a big deal for his favorite games. I’ve been wanting to play more of the older games, but so far I’m kinda fascinated with the newest one so... one game at a time, I guess.”

            “Yeah, uh, fifteen’s pretty fun actually!” Michael ran a hand through his hair, “it’s different but...”

            “Really good. I’m kinda glad the series took a step away from the turn-based combat, I guess.” You shoved your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, “so... what else do you play?”

            “A lot of old shit,” he shrugged, “Overwatch, sometimes. I haven’t really played recently though.”

            You immediately jump on that thread. “What do you play on? Who do you main?” 

            He blinked at the sight of you, before a small smile cracked upon his face. Maybe you were cooler than he thought. “Uh, PS4 mainly, and... Sombra, D.Va, aaaand Lúcio. What about you?”

            “Same, actually - my brother also bought Overwatch for PS4 and then ended up giving that to me when he left. As for who I main-”

            The bell rung out, interrupting you as teenagers began to shuffle around you. You slowly stood, grabbing your bag and slipping an arm through one strap as you turned back to Michael. He’d already stood, shoving his keys into his pocket and backpack already hanging off of one shoulder. He watched you for a moment, as if waiting to see if you were actually going to pursue conversation or leave him now that class was over.

            “If you wanna keep talking about video games ‘n stuff,” you said, “we can maybe grab lunch together?”

            “Yeah, I’d, uh- I’d like that?” He acted as if he was unsure. He paused as he pushed in his chair, leaning against it, “I don’t eat in the cafeteria though.”

            “That’s valid,” you stepped away, walking with him out of the classroom. “I’ve got money, if that helps-”

            “You... really wanna talk to me, don’t you?” He stared at you, dumbfounded that someone would actually take notice of him past the regular little interactions - asking him to get out of the way, asking him a question about class, all the basic shit that’d be forgotten minutes all.

            You nodded, the fabric of your backpacks straps scratching against your palm to make an uncomfortable noise. You winced slightly because of it, before nodding again awkwardly. “Yeah. I do.” You sort of smile, “is that a problem? You seem cool.” He shook his head as he walked alongside you, one hand fumbling with his headphones. You continued on, “so.. We were talking about my mains, right?”

            The walk out to Michael’s car wasn’t too awkward in the end. He was surprisingly happy to keep talking about different video games, lamenting about this shitty level in Apocalypse of the Damned before immediately shutting up about it. Then the conversation turned to food, Michael suggesting sushi and you just sorta shrugged and agreed since he was driving. On the drive over, there was the whole awkward conversation of “wait, should we eat in or get our stuff to go?” which ended in the two of you deciding just to chill in his car in the parking lot of the school with your food. Twenty minutes later, the two of you had kicked back and were listening to music in his car, enjoying your food.

            “Y’know,” you started, “for a dude who was so eager to get sushi, I’m surprised you didn’t get more sushi.” You shrugged, “I mean, it’s no biggie - I’m just a little surprised-”

            Michael looked over to you, before looking back to his food, “eh. I’m not that big on fish - plus the beef negimaki is fucking god there.” He then stole another glance to you, “what’s up with the fork?”

            “Never learned to use chopsticks,” you shrugged, “my brother always made fun of me for it.” You smiled a little, “I mean - I just can’t really loosen my grip enough, I guess.” You glanced down to the chicken yakisoba you’d ordered, “besides. I mean... it’s not like I’m eating sushi with a fork.”

            “I guess you have a point.” He said. Awkward silence grew between the two of you, only leaving the music to fill the small bits of tension that had developed since you were sort of a stranger in a way.

            “You like music?” You asked, mentally slapping yourself - of course he likes music, who doesn’t like music? “What do you listen to?”

            He lit up immediately at that, jabbing his empty chopsticks in the direction of his radio. “Eighties stuff. Grew up with it,” he began, “mainly because of my moms, but my older brother was big into eighties shit as well. And, uh, he also got me into Filipino eighties music,” he shrugged, “heritage stuff, I guess.” He paused for a moment, idly tapping his chopsticks against the to-go container for a moment, “plus he’s older than me so... I guess I thought he was cool and started listening to stuff because of it.”

            “Are you saying your brother isn’t cool?” You shifted, iron-grip on your lunch, “because you better hope I never meet him or I’ll tell him that.”

            He snorted a little at that, “he’s cool. He ended up moving to Philly with a bunch of friends a year ago.”

            You nodded, reaching for your drink. “Maybe you could show me some music sometimes? I’ve been looking for some new bops-”

            “I can make you a playlist!” Michael then drew back slightly, confidence fading little by little, “I mean, if you want-”

            “I’d really like that.” The minute you spoke, Michael beamed, once again filled with confidence. The way that Michael seemed to light up, all the stars falling into his eyes - it made you smile a little more than you had been before. “Do you, uh - you use Spotify, right?”

            “Yeah! My moms pay for premium,” he beamed, before his smile fell. “Do... you uh-”

            “Want my number?” You offered up, and he nods, unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. You flipped open the contacts, pressing the little plus button and filling in your info before shooting a quick message to yourself before setting his phone back in his hand.

            That afternoon started the constant memes, along with the occasional song that he’d ask your opinion on - always swearing that it was so he could get a better grasp of your taste so that you’re playlist will be perfect. Some you liked, some you forced yourself to listen to past the first minute (and occasionally, you ended up liking them), others you dropped barely seconds in, something not quite jiving with you. He’d usually find you at lunch on the days you didn’t have AP Bio,or occasionally he’d ask if you wanted to run somewhere for lunch since cafeteria sucks. By that Saturday, a link popped up to a playlist just titled ‘tasty jams for [y/n]’ with the description set as ‘because their music taste might suck and im a good person :)’ - which made you laugh, sending a quick ‘thank you for your wise wisdom, mello yello’ before you plugged in your headphones to listen.

            You really, really appreciated Michael’s taste in music, honestly.

            Over the course of the next few weeks, Michael became a regular part of your life. After your insistence that, dude, you were gonna be lonely anyway, just come and sit with you - he sorta caved in and ate lunch with you regularly, animatedly talking about video games or music or this stupid YouTube video he watched: anything and everything, like he was this dam that had been building up and now he finally had someone to talk to, someone to spill everything to. AP Biology consisted of dumb jokes under your breath, Michael’s soft chuckles next to you making you crack little smiles; little notes slipping to one another during your American History class, sometimes little drawings, other times little jokes; and then there was Algebra, where the two of you would text each other from across the room, trying your best to hide your phones. At the end of math, Michael would be waiting by the classroom door, falling into step beside you as the two of you started heading out to the parking lot. 

            “Hey!” He greeted you one day, visibly nervous despite the smile plastered to his face. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “hey, uh, you wanna... come over on Saturday? We could play video games or something,” he shrugged. 

            You mulled over the thought for a minute, before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

            He smiled again, reaching up and fumbling with the cord of his headphones as he looked over to you. “You do know we’re gonna play some spooky shit, right? It’s almost Halloween,” he sorta laughed, “spooky scary.”

            You jabbed him with your elbow, not hard enough to hurt him. “Fuckin’ dork, fine- but I get first pick at characters.”

            “Yeah, fine, you can be player-” He paused, catching himself, “yeah. Yeah, okay!”

            You didn’t push it.

            That Saturday you drove over to Michael’s house, letting your Google Maps app guide you the entire way, calling out directions along the way over the sound of the playlist Michael made for you. You cursed the cold weather outside, your jacket sitting in the passenger seat of the heated car. The moment you pulled up outside of Michael’s house, only his P.T Cruiser sitting in the driveway, you shot him a quick text that you were outside and he best have that door open because you aren’t dealing with this cold shit today. Barely taking a minute to slip into your jacket, you cut off the car and pocketed the keys, clicking the doors locked after you hopped out and dashed to the front door, Michael opening it just in time for you to slide inside.

            He stood there, watching you literally slide to a stop. “You don’t like the cold, do you?”

            You shook your head. “Not when the weather lies to me, dear Mello Yello.” 

            He glanced upstairs, before looking back to you. “I’m gonna grab some snacks - but you can go on up? First door on the left,” he shut the front door, finally cutting the cold air out of the situation. You nodded, awkwardly shooting him finger guns as you strolled past him and head upstairs - after kicking off your boots near the door, having found Michael’s own shoes sitting nearby. You found Michael’s room easily, even if he hadn’t given you instructions, considering his door had been left wide open and his room was as Michael-esque as you expected.

            Band T-shirts littered the floor, some lazily thrown over the chair at his desk, along with what you swore looked like a pizza box tucked under his bed and a few empty cans of soda - all crushed and most around a full trashcan near the bedroom door. You sorta hold back a smile at how fucking stereotypical teenage-boy the mess was - but that little bit of restraint disappeared as you started taking in the posters pinned around his room, all with red or white pushpins holding them up. The Legend of Zelda, Uncharted, The Last of Us, Tomb Raider, Portal - and then, among those, you caught a few others. Old movies posters - things like Nightmare on Elm Street and Alien and The Thing - peeked out from between everything else, and then it all came to a stop at this cork-board that hung above Michael’s desk. Pictures were pinned up everywhere, some of him by himself, others with him and his moms and someone you only assumed was a brother or a cousin or something - due to the striking resemblance that Michael shared with him. And then there were pictures of Jeremy - scarce but still there -  among all the memories of Disney World and sleepy plane rides with a dark sky peeking through the windows. All of them were different ages - Michael and Jeremy at what you could only assume was sometime during their last few years of elementary school, posing proudly with the widest smiles and papers in front of them for good grades or good attendance, the sort of shit that you usually get in elementary school; or Michael chilling at a community pool with Jeremy, both probably thirteen or fourteen, with ice cream and sodas sitting on a wire table behind them, towels wrapped around their shoulders and smiles forced in that sort of way that when you’re thirteen, you don’t want anyone to see you; and then there was a picture of Michael and Jeremy, taken within the last year, with Michael’s arm thrown around Jeremy’s shoulder as this was absolutely something snapped at the most opportune moment, and you couldn’t really make out what they were looking at but they both looked so happy and comfortable with each other. Something inside of you plucked at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to think. 

            You tore your attention away from the board, ignoring whatever the sticky notes littered here and there said, and you started fumbling with a Rubik’s Cube on his desk. His laptop sat, open with a darkened screen - and with an accidental brush of the wireless mouse that’d been positioned a little too close to the Rubik’s Cube, you were greeted with his Spotify open to a playlist in progress, a key-smash for a name and description (very creative) with a few songs listed. Eventually you set down the toy, making your way over to his bed and sitting down, just sort of taking in the sight of Michael’s room while the scent of some air freshener lingered around you.

            “Shit-” Michael said as he approached the room, causing you to turn around. “I was... sort of in the middle of cleaning... aaand I wasn’t sure if I should finish while you were here-” He kicked out his desk chair, it rolling back enough for him to seat himself, the back of it pressed against his stomach. “I can clean up more if you want.”

            “It’s cool, dude. No messier than my room,” you sort of laughed, whether it was true or not. What are we playing?”

            He didn’t answer, standing and handing over a can of soda to you before going over to where his games were stored, flipping through them. “I... didn’t plan that far ahead.”

            He rattled off the titles of games, while your focus drifted back to the photos on the wall. You’d never really seen Michael so happy - well, perhaps when you asked about him making you a playlist, but that moment paled in comparison to the most recent picture with Jeremy - and that twisted your stomach. You didn’t hear Michael stop reading out names, before his gaze settled on what you’d been staring at. He stood once more, clutching a game in his hands now as he walked over to the board.

            “Yeah, uh - my family travel a lot,” he said, looking back to you. “Usually just over summer and breaks and whatever,” he sunk down into the chair, and you crawled over to the foot of his bed, as close as you could get without standing. He pointed out different pictures - the summer he went to Disney World and how he got super fucking spooked on Expedition Everest, or how they took a road trip one summer and jammed out to eighties bops the entire way, or the day trips they took to New York as a family - before you catch his gaze falling to Jeremy. 

            “So!” You interrupt the silence that had started to grow between the two of you, “Mello Yello. What we playing.” You didn’t ask. But he lit up, glad to have something else to think about. You beamed at him as he held up the case.

            “Resident Evil 5.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “got that fucking spooky zombie shit.” 

            “Just in time for Halloween,” you mused, “dope. I get to be Chris.”

            He chuckled, moving to queue the game up and handing you a controller. “Your loss, then.”

            “Dude. I get to be a fucking beefy dude.”

            “But Sheva though.”

            You mulled the thought over. “... You have a point.”

            The game queued up. And then Michael spoke again, nudging you to scoot over as he sat on his bed. “Are you going to Jake’s Halloween party?”

            Something about that question made your blood turn to ice for a mere moment. That... came from nowhere - and you didn’t even know Jake Dillinger past the fact that a lot of people would fucking love to fuck him. So you shrugged the question off. “Are you?”

            And Michael didn’t answer.

            “Michael?”

            He looked over to you, before turning his attention to the game, starting it up. You pinned your eyes to the screen, as the opening tutorial started up after the two of you configured shit. “Jeremy’s supposed to be there,” he finally admitted. “I thought that maybe I’d go talk to him. Y’know, talk some sense into him.” His shoulders fell as he let out a heavy breath, “yell at him about how we were friends for twelve years and how he’s being a huge fucking dick because of the SQUIP-”

            You cut him off: “the what.” He freezed under your gaze. “Michael... you never told me what happened with Jeremy.”

            And he wasn’t going to - judging by how he immediately fumbled with his controller, slowly breathing out as he squeezed his eyes shut. The game started, throwing you into the opening cutscene of the game. You watched as Michael drew his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, before he finally decided to speak again.

            “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said, and the moment you finally nodded, he continued on. “So uh... the SQUIP is this... weird supercomputer-pill-thing,” he started, “and it’s supposed to like... tell you what to do? I don’t know - Jeremy said that this guy at school was going to sell him one and we went to check it out and now he’s too good for-” He hesitated. “He’s too good to hang out with me, since... I guess I’m a loser?” He stared at the TV screen before the two of you. “I dunno - he didn’t... really say.”

            You didn’t speak. You only sat there, playing the game as you listened to Michael filled you in on what limited information he had. The entire time he spoke, he looked so distant. Just mere minutes ago, he’d been alive - talking to you about his family and about the game, and he’d been bright as he greeted you at the door and brought snacks and soda for the two of you - and now... he looked tired. You suddenly stopped, grip on the controller becoming loose as you only stared at Michael, watching his focus stay on the game, movement reflecting in his glasses until he, too, finally stopped. The two of you had been lucky there weren’t any enemies around at that point - you’d probably have died and had to restart if there had been. His gaze slowly met yours.

            “I know it sounds crazy,” Michael breathed, grip tight on the controller, “but... it’s true - I promise,” he paused, searching for words to say, searching your face for disbelief. But he didn’t find it. He found concern, etched into every feature that you had.

            “Michael... it’s not that it’s crazy, as... impossible as a supercomputer-pill-thing sounds,” you said, not sure how else to refer to this SQUIP thing, “I mean... It’s just really, really hard to grasp. Like...” You paused, tracing your thumb along hard plastic, “if you’re going to talk to Jeremy at the party,” you shifted the subject, “are you sure that’s something that you should do-”

            He didn’t wait. “Yes - I have to-”

            “- alone?” You finished, dumbfounding him almost immediately. “Look - I’m not saying that I, uh... go in there with you or anything, but... I can drive you, or just wait in the car-” You cut yourself off, “I just don’t think this is something you should be doing completely alone.”

            You were met with a completely dumbfounded stare, before he finally snapped back to reality, your words sinking in. And then he nodded, immediately spouting off some plan about how you can pick him up that night, and he can change into his costume on the way to Jake’s house and then he’ll crash at your place, so the whole idea of him chilling at your place wouldn’t be a complete lie to his moms. The entire time he went into detail about this whole scheme he cooked up, you couldn’t fight back a smile. 

            Because at that moment, the two of you had become partners in crime.

            Fuck yes.

[coffee-and-uhg]