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dyslexic-gremlin · 1 year

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Goose is the Best Emotional Support [ch. 6]

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Chapter title: Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Carol decides to leave Goose with Peter when she's needed for an away mission. During the weekend he has her, Peter shows Goose off to the other people at the Avengers Compound. Some of the reactions are mixed, but how can you not love such an adorable kitty?

Notes: Basically just a bunch of fluff with Goose and Peter hanging out with people.

Main characters: Peter Parker, Goose, Wanda Maximoff

Important tags: Fluff (that's it)

Word count: 947

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday, 3:45 PM

Wanda sighed to herself as she walked around the grounds of the compound after one of her bi-weekly meditation sessions. It had been almost three months since she started training with the Sorcerer Supreme, and along with traditional physical training she also had to suffer sit through meditation. Despite her complaints, however, she couldn’t deny the improvement she’d seen was impressive.

Even with the differences in their magicks, Doctor Strange had been successful in helping Wanda build her control. It was slow going and required a lot more self-reflection than Wanda had assumed, but if it was what she had to go through in order to do better, she would.

She had felt more in control than ever, and magical outbursts that happened due to emotions were almost non-existent (they still happened, sadly. On her really bad days when grief and guilt consumed her. But it took a considerable amount more than it used to). As her control strengthened, so did her output level. She was able to do more and more as each month passed.

The witch (now that she was doing proper training that title fit surprisingly well) stretched her arms above her head and continued her walk to work some feeling back into her limbs. Wanda knew she’d get used to how still one became during meditation eventually, but it was still a foreign enough experience that it lingered with her.

Just as Wanda rounded the side of the compound to enter from the front (she liked speaking with the receptionist– they were close in age and both came from Eastern Europe) an orange cat scampered through an open window. The woman stopped as the feline leapt to the ground and started to calmly lick themself in the middle of Wanda’s path.

“Oh, hello,” she absently greeted, still slightly out of it due to her previous engagement. It took a moment for Wanda to comprehend the situation and, once she did, she quickly did a double-take between the cat and window.

Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing she had run into while at the compound (an alien that resembled a raccoon and a person that looked like he was made of rocks came to mind). She didn’t have much to do with Vision in his own training session and everyone else was similarly preoccupied, so Wanda decided to postpone her chat with Ana and instead settled near the cat.

With her legs bent so she was closer to the ground, Wanda slowly extended her loosely curled fingers for the cat to sniff. Her offer caught the tabby’s attention and, with only slight hesitance, the cat leaned over to sniff Wanda’s hand.

The close proximity coupled with her recent training meant Wanda was able to glean a basic telepathic read of the animal (which shouldn’t have been as easy as it was. While she had improved, Wanda still wasn’t as good at reading the minds of beings that had a lower cognitive ability than an average human). She could tell the feline was a female, and, surprisingly, was able to catch her name.

“Hmm, Goose, huh? A very interesting name for an intriguing cat.”

As Goose dubbed Wanda worthy enough and began to rub herself against the hero’s legs, Peter appeared from around the corner. He looked stressed and worried– the teen must have had something on his mind because Peter didn’t notice the two on the ground and stumbled over them.

Out of reflex Wanda threw strings of her magic at Peter to grab him before he fell to the ground. Even if she hadn’t, Wanda knew Peter would have been able to catch himself with his reflexes.

“Sorry!” the teen exclaimed once he was settled back on his feet. “I’ve been looking for someone and didn’t see–”

Once Peter’s gaze landed on Goose he cut himself off and lunged towards the cat. Wanda had expected his movements to frighten the animal (and she also hadn’t expected that kind of action from Peter, he seemed much better with animals) but if cats could look resigned then Goose did.

Peter scooped her into his arms quickly, “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Bucky said you left him right after you ate and if I somehow lost you Carol would kill me!”

He stoked Goose’s back a couple of times before amending his statement.

“Actually, scratch that. If I lost you I would kill myself before Carol could get to me.”

Goose let out a quiet mrrow in what seemed to be comfort as she bumped her head against Peter’s hand.

Off to the side, Wanda watched the interaction in amusement.

“So she is yours?” the witch asked and reached out herself to pet Goose (who, thankfully, allowed her to).

“No,” Peter explained, “but I’m watching her this weekend.”

Wanda made a noise of understanding and then fondness as Goose started to rub her face against Wanda’s palm.

“Then we should move inside, so Goose doesn’t make another attempted escape.”

Peter nodded in agreement and shifted his hold on the orange feline as they quickly finished the walk to the compound’s entrance. For good measure, Wanda made sure to use her powers to close the window Goose had escaped from earlier.

“Were you able to watch those videos I sent you the other day?” Peter asked.

Wanda shook her head, “I haven’t. We could watch them now?”

A large grin broke across the teen’s face in excitement as he nodded vigorously and an extra pep was put into his step.

She might not have been able to do what she had planned, but Wanda was glad she ran into the strange cat.

Chapter index: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

#Jagged’s fics #GITBES #Peter Parker #Goose (the cat)#Wanda Maximoff #Fanfiction #MCU fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #Fluff #Peter Parker fluff #Peter Parker is a little shit #Goose is a little shit #slice of life fanfiction

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lunarharp · 4 months

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pretty & cute witch men

#witch hat tag #orufrey #i'm not drawing as much or as well as i'd like to be doing. i'm trying to get through a comic i've been really wanting to do #but i'm just finding it so hard. disheartening. btw the 2nd one relates to some official art of qif wearing a dress like the girls #and the 4th one relates to how i've been drawing EXTREMELY SMALL for years. idk how to explain it but i always clicked 'fit to screen'#and so all my art EVER has looked bad when you zoom in bc it's already like size 1 zoomed in to the MAX pfhgguguhfpfhGHAHHHHH #i was so confused allll this time why brushes always look different for me than what they're supposed to #'wow this brush is so jaggedy..really rather jaggedy...calling it the Jagged Cai Special..bringing it out for those jaggedy moments..#really quite jaggedy i must say...' and it's literally not jaggedy #but now i have to get used to how all those brushes that i'd gotten used to indeed look how they're supposed to finally. Alarming #I have simply been working out absolutely everything by myself for years and that's why my technical progress is slow #ppl say my progress is fast and i certainly have improved much since i began doing all this but #like..it took me a year and half to start using a program where i could Colour In The Lines aka the..whatever it's called. whatever..#just on my lonely confused solemn journey to express gay love better than yesterday.. -_- *picks up my pack n continues through the snow*#btw thank you sm for people's kind words enjoying my narumitsu art & fic over the christmas & new year period <3

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pizzaqueen · 11 months

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Another entry for day five of @steddie-week for the prompts 'together' and 'established relationship' because I thought of this after posting my other one

393 words of domestic fluff / rated T

Steve loves sleep-in days. They usually mean that neither he nor Eddie are working, so they get to spend the whole day together, instead of just the evening before they both collapse into bed.

They also mean he doesn’t have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, and he can get up at a decent hour. The closer to midday the better (though he doesn’t spend all of those hours asleep.)

But his favorite thing about sleep-in days is when he wakes up first, like he has today. His head is still lazy with sleep, but he feels rested, and he stretches out—not too much, though, he doesn’t want to wake the other occupants of the bed.

There’s Eddie, snoring softly, his head resting on Steve’s chest, leg hooked over Steve’s thigh, and his arm tucked under Steve’s arm.

Then, at Steve’s shoulder, Mercury is curled into a black ball of kitten fuzz, purring happily. On the other side of Eddie, there will be a similar ball of tabby fur, in the shape of their eldest ‘child’—dubbed by Eddie—Pippin. Steve wonders what they look like from the outside, the four of them tangled together in sleep.

And it hits Steve how damn lucky he is to be here, in this bed, with the ridiculous man he loves—who loves him back—and their two cats, in their apartment, getting to sleep in because, today, there’s nothing else to do.

Beside him, Eddie stirs, blinking his eyes open in a way that reminds Steve of their cats. Warmth and love rush Steve as Eddie peers at him, unseeing for a moment, before his eyes focus. He grunts something that might be good morning.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Eddie grunts again, shifting so he can run a hand over his face. There’s an indignant meow from behind him as he upsets Pippin from her perch. “Time is it?”

“About 10.”

“Shit,” Eddie starts, looking panicked, but Steve smooths a hand down the side of his face.

“It’s okay, it’s sleep-in day.”

Eddie breathes out. “Thank fuck.”

“You know what that means?” Steve asks, rolling onto his side, gathering Eddie to him. When Eddie shakes his head, still too sleepy for full sentences, Steve adds, “We don’t have to be up for hours.”

Eddie slips his hand under Steve’s shirt, answering with a grin.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddieweek2023 #pizzaqueenfic #just came out of a crying jag so i needed some fluff 🙈

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skinnyazn · 4 months

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I Will Not Ask and Neither Should You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 2/3 Notes: inspired by Hozier's Like Real People Do, Jag Backstory unlocked!!!

Part One | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST Why were you digging? / What did you bury Before those hands pulled me / From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from / I will not ask and neither should you

___

You were in the kitchen getting water for the both of you when the message came in.

55.7249º N, 37.5541º E. Tuesday, 14:00.

The +7 country code made a cold sweat break over your body. Russia. You didn’t know how the sender got your number, but if it was who you thought, they would have their ways. All you could do was stare at your phone as your heart hammered through your chest.

“Everything al’right?”

You hadn’t even noticed Simon come up behind you.

“Mmhmm,” you managed, passing him a glass of water as you set your phone screen-down on the counter. You lowered your head onto your arms, resting them on the surface to hide your face while you backed your nakedness against the colossus of a man. A raspy grunt was his response.

“Dangerous, Jag,” Simon warned, but closed the gap all the same. He kissed your shoulders and back, setting down the glass of water next to your phone. “Heart’s racin’,” he murmured against your skin as his hands smoothed down to your hips. “Can hear it from ‘ere.”

“You have that effect on me.” It wasn’t a lie—not usually. But at present, the contents of the text message were still etched into your brain. You felt like throwing up.

“Thought you needed a break, luv.”

“Changed my mind,” you tried your best to even your voice, but it still came out shaky.

Ghost’s hands stilled on your hips as he paused. “We don’t ‘ave to—”

“Need you, Simon,” you interrupted, raising your head to look back at him while snaking his tattooed hand up and around your neck.

Dark eyes glinted in the low light, looking at the phone on the counter, then searching yours for a moment—for an out, a reason. But all they found was benediction. He tightened his grip around your throat and kissed you softly.

When your beautiful man was finally asleep, sound and unsuspecting, you hated yourself for exploiting his weaknesses. For knowing that he got sloppy around you in this domestic setting; that he slept deeper—you both did—after a few rounds. That he knew you’d get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or refill your water.

You slipped out of the warm bed, packing as quietly as you could—shoving your life with Simon “Ghost” Riley into your black duffel. Hating yourself more as you scribbled on the back of a receipt and set it down next to his mask.

Something I have to do.

You looked at him one last time—perhaps for the final time. His blonde hair was exposed, his ultimate layer of trust in you; you watched his scared back softly rise and fall as he slept. Numbness ran through your body at stupidity of thinking you’d finally escaped your past. Cut all the ties. That you naively thought you had built something here, too. People in your line of work never get happy endings. Your throat tightened as you slipped through the front door, locking it behind you. Your cab was already gone by the time he woke.

______

Moscow was frigid and covered in a light dusting of snow when you landed. And all those memories of a life left behind seeped back up from their well of suppression on the cab ride to the coordinates. It seemed like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was. There was a split in the road then, where you made a choice. One that lead you to San Francisco and to Kokshetau and to Leeds. One where you chose your life.

Yet here you were, back in the cold and snow—despair growing in the pit of your stomach with each mile passed. You worried your jaguar pendant between gloved fingers.

The cab stilled in front of large bronze doors, now a dull green after centuries of oxidation.

Новодевичье кладбище: Novodevichy Cemetery.

You paid the fare and got out, duffel slung over your shoulder. There were tourists and locals alike visiting the historic cemetery. It made you even more on edge as you entered through the double doors. You were too vulnerable out here in the open.

Checking your watch, you were thirty minutes early, giving you enough time to scope out the location. It calmed you some, passing by the beautiful tombstones and monuments of Russia’s most notable and respected citizens. Anton Chekhov, Vera Mukhina, Lyudmila Gurchenko. Pristine marble and greying stone and wet concrete. It was an odd location for a meeting but you hoped with all the people around you could let your guard down a little. You wandered through the maze of the deceased. But then you saw it: a mound of freshly laid earth and an ornate marble bust. You stopped completely. Felt your heart stuck in your throat and a flush of heat to your face. Your hands went numb as you just stared.

Vladislava Ignatyev.

The thread that lead you to where you were now. In memory you heard the gentle clink of a tea cup and the soft rustling of a maid’s dress.

You’d make a fine spy one day, my beautiful Odette.

That your wish or mine?

Neither. It’s your nature, dear. The same way a fish takes to water or a swan flight.

…

You can give me that look but you know I’m right. You were a caged, pretty little thing when I discovered you. And now you’ve grown majestically into your true nature. Just remember who gave you your wings when you are enjoying your freedom. My door will always be open for you…

The marble bust on the cold floor did the older woman no justice. It failed to capture her elegance and the magnitude of her character. You’d learned so much from her. Vladislava was a woman who silenced a room when she entered, through no other means than just being her. And now she was in the cold ground beneath you. Beauty and stature decaying. You wanted to cry but the tears would not come.

“It’s you…”

The gentle voice snapped you to the present again. Standing across from you was a handsome man, with blonde, wavy hair falling to frame his young face. His blue eyes took you in.

You inhaled deeply. “Dimitri.”

He smiled and you felt a tightness in your chest.

“I…I was not sure you would come.” Low chatter from the other visitors passing by filled the silence as you took each other in. His smile grew wider. “You look so different, and yet exactly how I remember you.”

“And you’ve grown,” you found yourself returning the smile slightly. Dimitri shifted on his feet, like he wanted to take your hand like he used to, but knowing that too much time had passed. You continued, “Surprised you even recognized me.”

He looked at you kindly and chuckled. “You weren’t always in ballet attire, my lisIchka. The short hair suits you though.”

You ran your gloved fingers through your choppy hair, recalling the muscle memory that had sleeked it into a taught bun countless times in the past—not a flyway in sight. Streamline. Efficient. Orderly. Your true nature.

Dimitri stepped around the grave so that he was facing it too, the both of you staring at the bust on the floor.

“We were just kids, then, weren’t we?”

You hummed. “You more-so.” You sucked in a breath. “When did she pass?”

“Last week. A stroke. It was so sudden—she had been in perfectly good health," his voice wavered slightly. “I was the one who found her in her bed in the morning. She just looked like she was sleeping...”

The statue’s hollowed eyes stared into nothingness. You had to look away, so you looked up at Dimitri. “I owe your mother a lot. I… I’m sorry I never came back,” you paused, studying the side of his face. He must be twenty six now—a decade gone in the blink of an eye; all those memories of the two of you when you were younger filtered back. You steadied your breath. “But I had to experience the world for myself.”

The younger man turned to you. “I understand. Never could keep you caged. No one could.”

You smiled but it didn’t meet your eyes. Nostalgia was a deceiver.

Dimitri cleared his throat. “There is another reason I asked you here, though. Something I have for you. From Vladislava.”

He reached into his wool peacoat and procured a long velvet box. Hesitating, you reached for the it, staring at the plain box in your hands before opening it.

It was the necklace that Vladislava had worn the night you first met: a massive canary diamond choker, surrounded by ornate gold and diamonds. You recalled the burning in your legs as you took your closing bow for the Vaganova Ballet Academy, peering into the crowd and seeing a glint of yellow among the blur of the audience. She’d come to you after, as you were removing all the feathers and makeup backstage. Introduced herself. You had no idea her influence at the time; you were only eighteen. But soon you were living with her. Wandering her massive estate with Dimitri. Being her eyes and ears at events with the most affluent; sometimes the most corrupt as well. Learning all you could from her as you started down a completely different path than when you first moved to Russia.

The significance of the necklace wasn’t lost on you as you stared down at the gorgeous piece. You closed the box quietly.

“I can’t take this, Dima,” you passed the box back to him, but he didn’t move. He just looked down at you, fondness in his eyes at the familiarity of his moniker. He wrapped his hands over yours.

“I'm afraid you don’t have a choice, lisIchka. It was in her will.” His hands stayed for a moment, then fell back to his side.

You simply stared at the box.

“You know,” he said softly, moving slightly closer to you, “there’s always a place for you here. In Moscow. At our home.”

And for a moment, the sun peaked through the grey day, alighting Dima’s golden hair. But when you looked at him, all you saw was Simon and his flat and the rain and his warmth. You gave a sad smile.

“Ah,” he said, understandingly.

You reached out and took his hand, running your gloved-thumb over his knuckles. “In another life, perhaps.”

He squeezed back. “I’ll look for you, then.”

You heart hurt at the whole situation. Vladislava was a force, now extinguished. And a childhood crush had clearly become something more. You held onto him for a while longer, then finally let go of his hand.

“Well, you must be exhausted from your travels,” Dima looked around. The oppressive sky was continuing to lighten. “To be honest I wasn’t sure you would even come, but I reserved a room for you at the Kempinski anyway. Stay as long as you need.”

You tucked the box into you jacket and looked at the younger man one last time, reaching up to touch his face. “Thank you for everything, Dima.” He leaned into your caress. “Take care of yourself.”

“And you.”

You gave a final glance at the grave, then left, not looking back. ______

Dima bb we're so sorry T^T Thanks for the wait, one more chapter to go! if you'd like to be (un)tagged for updates let me know! @deadbranch @solidly-indulgent @aalxrose @dotcie

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anonymous-dentist · 6 months

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Bad Romance Chapter Four: Road

Chapter Summary:

Roier tells a story. Cell does the dishes.

NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER

REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG

Portuguese translations by @susie-dreemurr!! Thank you so much!!

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#broken jagged little mirror au #i did Not edit this shit lol

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justminawrites · 10 months

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there are no synonyms for half

AO3

Summary: For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half. It was only when he turned fifteen, watching the dying sun set over the Seine, did he realise that the other half of him had only ever been other people’s secrets.

For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half of something.

It came with the territory of being a twin, his mother would tell him as much, but Luka’s melody sounded empty in a way Juleka’s never was. Every birthday, every anniversary, every time a neighbour cooed and fussed over how much of Anarka’s face her children had inherited, however infrequent that was. A houseboat rarely had anything resembling a neighbourhood, after all.

‘Ma.. why didn’t Dad want us?

At five, Luka had somehow gotten it into his head that his incompletion lied in the absence of a parent. His missing notes were hidden in the ever elusive tune of who his father was, and once his mother told him, he’d finally be able to complete his song. Anarka Couffaine only huffed in disbelief and switched off the Jagged Stone TV Special he’d been watching.

Yer father was a real scallywag! Luka looked down at the acoustic guitar he’d held closer than any stuffed animal, and wondered if he too was half scallywag.

I don’t want to go.

His mother stiffened, one leg out the door of the gilded school gates. Juleka turned around in confusion as he dropped her hand and then slid off his backpack. Unzipping the blue-and-green printed fabric, Luka pulled out the ukulele he’d hidden and held it up triumphantly like it was some sort of prize.

I want to go to music school. He panicked when Anarka crossed her arms in disbelief, and tried to find the words to promise how he’d learn every instrument and do all of his and Juleka’s chores everyday if she let him.

Luka was only ten at the time, so he didn’t know how to tell his mother that he believed he was half music, that it was the one thing that made him feel whole. The tunes would echo off of the walls of his heart and fill up the empty parts of him until he could imagine them colliding, overflowing, and finally spilling out of him again.

His mother only sighed, ruffled his hair and picked up the discarded backpack, before turning to leave.

Luka ran after her, leaving his twin behind, a lone ship in the sea of melody.

Jules, what’s wrong?

Even before Juleka rushed into his arms, her face already crumpled and stained with tears, Luka was half rage.

She refused to tell him what exactly happened but clutched his fingers tightly all the way back to the Liberty. He could feel the anger bubbling under his skin as he took in her skinned knees and the bluntly chopped ends of hair she’d braided so carefully that very morning. The feeling was so all encompassing that when Anarka took his face in her hands, she pulled away almost immediately, claiming he’d contracted a fever.

Ow..

Luka was half fire the night he pierced his own ears. Juleka looked at him with wide eyes as he ran his bloody fingers under the faucet, and gave her a reassuring smile. Doesn’t it hurt?, she asked him unable to do much more than look at the black studs that would forever adorn his ears.

Luka didn’t know how to tell her that he could simply pour whatever pain was left into the empty parts of himself until it fell so far down that he didn’t hear it anymore. So he shook his head instead.

When he insisted on walking Juleka to François Dupont Elementary the next morning, Anarka sharply took his face in her hands again, so quickly that Luka winced. Her eyes grazed the new, round black dots on his ears that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday and met her son’s defiant blue eyes. Yer not burnin’ up anymore, was all she had to say about the matter.

Is that Juleka’s brother? He looks really scary!

Luka was half pride as he pushed through the crowd of fifth graders that had gathered around him despite themselves, their faces shining with admiration and envy, gold and green.

It was a mixture of pride and justice, he would realise much later, that made him exaggeratedly stomp his way over to Juleka’s bullies and wave a threatening finger at their ringleader, a blonde Bourgeois who was so startled, she fell backwards into a puddle of sludge. He didn’t say anything but he hardly needed to open his mouth amidst the cruel laughter of forty kids to know his job was done. Relief shone in the corners of his sister’s eyes when she rushed out of school that evening.

Nice to meet you ma-ma-marinette.

Luka was half shame when he saw the girl’s face fall, her dollish blue eyes crinkling with tears. He hadn’t expected to feel something stirring in the empty parts of him when one of Juleka’s friends stumbled into his room, every emotion under the sun flickering on her face, and he’d been just as startled by her presence, as she was by his.

Sorry.. I tend to make more sense with this.

Luka clutched his guitar closer even though he was the one that asked her to sit beside him, and braced himself. Sure enough, the hollowness inside him steadily filled with the flutter of a thousand beating, insect wings as Marinette carefully acquiesced, the ends of her ballet flats hovering inches above the ground. Ladybug wings.

For once, it was the outside world that held its breath as Luka’s insides roared with a harmony he didn’t know how to play. He forced himself to remain composed as she blinked her secretive blue eyes up at him, concealing a question and a challenge of her own.

How do you do that?

He’d hardly strummed a tune, but her face betrayed wonder as his fingers echoed the chords that clanged around in her own empty spaces, whatever he could hear over the clamour of newness in his own heart, anyway. She slipped away in the midst of his explanation, taking the white noise with her, to admire the Jagged Stone poster he’d spent hours gluing down, and the collection of guitar picks right below it.

The silence in him returned, somehow louder than before now that he knew it could be filled.

You can have it if you like.

He was beside her before he knew it, eyes glued to the guitar pick between her slender, calloused fingers. Marinette gasped in delight and the flutter-buzz returned, rising a notch, arresting Luka’s heart, as though the ladybugs that had overflowed his empty half had now begun to crawl into his lungs. But there, under all the white noise, when they were standing this close, he could almost taste it– one unmistakable beat, and then another and another; the morse code of her heart song.

You’re a funny girl, Marinette.

He didn’t want to go but Luka was afraid he’d completely lose his wits if he listened to the full force of the ladybug wings any longer.

It was only when he was halfway up the stairs did he realise there was a lone buzzing bouncing off the walls of the vacant half of his heart. She’d left something behind.

Personally, I think a girl like you deserves to feel more like.. this.

Luka slipped off the deck chair to sit beside Marinette, guitar in hand.

It had only been a week since they’d met but he’d found himself unable to enjoy sleep in its entirety. The lone ladybug she’d forgotten haunted his nights, humming a tune too faint for him to hear, and he would stay up, straining his ears to grasp a single note, as the light of dawn flooded through the portholes of the ship.

Luka liked the way Marinette always closed her eyes while she listened to him play. He pretended not to notice the slump of her shoulders, as she relaxed into the chords he strummed specially to catch her. He’d long since stopped wondering if people experienced the world the same way he did. He simply brought her peace, in exchange for a bit of her chaos.

And whoever made you feel this way, is nothing but a–

He played a slightly funky tune and she giggled, filling his chest with so much fluttering (an applause of wings) that he hardly dared to open his mouth for fear a ladybug might escape. And then how would he explain himself?

Say, are you free tomorrow..

For her? Luka was free for the rest of his life.

You should probably go over and talk to him.

The cavernous silence returned in the subway.

Luka was half regret as he shifted on the blue polyester seat, trying his best to stare out of the window, to concentrate on something, anything, besides the bittersweet silence in his lungs. The ladybugs in his chest must’ve frozen to death hours ago, in the skating rink, where he’d watched Marinette watch Adrien with the unwavering focus of a musician bent on mastering an instrument.

He told himself he didn’t mind, not really. Adrien filled her with wings of her own (butterflies maybe?) and he’d be too busy piecing together his new melody to do the same. It would be best to let her go, now, when the feelings were fresh enough that they’d wilt under the slightest pressure.

It would be best to forget about the kiss.

The quick peck. The obligatory press of Marinette’s soft lips to his cheek before she was whisked away, by the wind, by the universe. He breathed out slowly, catching a glimpse of himself on the dark glass of the of the subway car. Oh no.

It could’ve been from the from the sudden drop in temperature in the skating rink, but the nape of his neck, the tips of his ears, and quite damningly, his cheeks– were a bright, unmistakable scarlet.

The ladybugs had found a new home.

Are ye blushing?

Luka was half mortification when he finally made it home and buried himself under ice packs and blankets, determined to be rid of the crimson flush if it killed him.

Anarka didn’t need to take his face in her hands this time to know something was bothering him. He watched her quietly slip into his room and rob it of anything with sharp points, before gently closing the door.

Still no news about the contest?

Luka meant it to be encouraging but when Marinette’s face fell he wished he could take it back immediately. He wished he could take everything back and never say another word again. While the blue-eyed girl fretted about wether her costumes influenced the reception Kitty Section’s audition tape received, he put an arm on her shoulder to stop her train of thought and remind her about the wonders of real-life paperwork.

She smiled up at him gratefully but before the ladybugs under skin (he still hadn’t managed to get rid of them) sensed this opportunity, Ivan’s outraged yell from across the room, scared them back into hiding.

You’ll never have a future in this business, you’ll never make another costume, because as far as everyone’s concerned– you’ll be the ripoff artists!

Luka was half fury, a cold fire this time, as he watched Bob Roth’s sleazy grin drip with venom as he held Marinette’s hand in his vice-like grip. She shook him off quickly but his words hung in the air like a promise, threatening to choke them both permanently if they didn’t leave immediately like the good little children they were.

Hello Silencer..

He would’ve appreciated the irony if it were any other situation. Hawk moth couldn’t begin to imagine just how much the power of silence was befitting of someone like him. Luka put on the akumatised mask obediently as the supervillain’s monologue came to an end.

He stopped fighting the darkness and for a while, Luka was half nothing.

Did you really mean those things you said when you were akumatised?

Luka knit his eyebrows in frustration, wracking his memory for some kind of indication of what he could’ve said to fluster Marinette so much. Had he said something about the ice-rink? Had he said something about the kiss?

He took a deep breath and decided it was time for the speech he’d rehearsed over and over again in front of the mirror, since he’d returned from their not-date weeks ago. Clear as a musical note, Sincere as a melody, Luka couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pools of blue in her eyes, even as he had the sinking sensation that he’d already passed the threshold of no return.

Luckily, the lights were so erratic, he was sure she couldn’t see the ladybugs huddled beneath his mask, but the buzzing was deafening, pop rocks in the back of his throat, leaving him so light-headed he’d promptly run from Marinette before she could figure out how to respond.

He hoped he hadn’t ruined everything by telling her.

Luka Couffaine, this is the Miraculous of the Snake.

He was half fear when The Hero of Paris held out a palm sized miracle box in her red and black-spotted hand.

The emptiness in him leaned into the idea of using the superhero persona to fill the void but the other part of him, the only part of him worth listening to, quaked under the pressure. But Paris wasn’t his priority, saving his mother and Juleka was. So he took it.

When the Kwami of Intuition, Sass, appeared, bowing his head formally, Luka wondered if those snake-like eyes could see right through him. From his cheeks filled with ladybugs, all the way through to his bottomless pit of emptiness that now held the aftermath of an affection, a wreckage of insect wings, wrong chords, and crumpled speeches.

The Kwami only smiled knowingly, and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. Still he said the words, and then Luka was half Viperion.

What do you think?

Luka looked up from strumming the tune trying to gauge Marinette’s reaction from behind a tower of macaron boxes. Her eyes softened, but stayed open, and he immediately knew it was nowhere close to being good enough.

She was quick to praise his skill though, and he offered her a ride to Le Grand Paris for the Bourgeois’ 20th wedding Anniversary, on the back of his delivery bike.

The ladybugs from Luka’s face swarmed back into his chest with vengeance as Marinette hugged his torso, her fingers clutching his jacket for dear life as he pedalled through Parisian traffic as quickly as he dared.

This time, when she thanked him with a kiss, Luka was able to pinpoint the exact moment the crimson menaces overran his flushed cheeks.

He turned away quickly, (hiding his face in her spare helmet), so quickly that he couldn’t hear the last thing she said to him over the sound of a million ladybugs taking flight.

Are you sure you want to hear it?

She knew what he was really asking her, of course. Are you sure this is what you want– that I am what you want?

Marinette nodded, leaning into him and Luka held his breath, plucking out the perfect rhythm as the watery sunshine glinted off the slick, cobblestoned pavement across from them.

He’d listened carefully for the chords in her heart every time they’d talked, and painstakingly pieced together its melody but even though he’d double checked, triple-checked even, Luka felt the inescapable presence of doubt slither from out his stomach, curling its wicked tail around his half-empty heart.

Marinette’s tune sounded just as incomplete as his.

Under the moonlight, by the sea– KISS ME!

He rubbed the back of his neck (where the ladybugs were gathered), embarrassed. It was the easiest question he knew, so he hadn’t counted on Marinette’s ridiculously competitive spirit when she’d yelled out the answer with her whole heart.

I mean, if you want to.

She did want to, and so did he. But even as Luka leaned in to press his lips to hers, to pray his kiss would somehow wake the sleeping butterflies in her chest, strain to hear the final note in her shrouded melody– he felt the interruption before it came.

The ceiling shook and Marinette ran off to get them something to drink, forgetting the white linoleum cup that she’d left beside him, filled to the brim with orange juice and disappointment.

He watched her go, like he’d done so often. Taking her secrets and her chaos with her.

The truth, Luka, is the only thing I can’t tell you.

He had never been half pain before, not like this. Not poisonous, acidic agony that filled the empty parts of him so throughly that it flooded his lungs, burning the ladybugs, drowning the music out completely.

It hurt to think, it hurt to breathe.

Luka wasn’t surprised that the akuma found him so quickly, but he curled into himself as Marinette’s voice scrabbled for purchase in his mind, begging him to fight the temptation, fight the evil that would undoubtedly lead to more suffering.

He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t understand how her voice was the thing that hurt him the most.

Why did you abandon me?

Jagged Stone’s lips were painted white with Truth’s compulsion power but Luka knew that whatever came out of his former hero's mouth now wouldn’t matter at all.

The damage had already been done. He’d seen the scars it’d left on his mother’s broken melody, his sister’s quiet song.

His own silent, silent heart.

It was hard to tell which part was him and which was the akuma, when he hurled his would-be father from the terrace of a several-story building and set off towards the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

You know, not seeing you is a hundred times worse than seeing you, Marinette.

The familiar rush of ladybugs filled his chest when she put her forgiving hand on his shoulder, as though they were flowing out of her and into him through the lightest of touches.

Luka swallowed the confession in his throat when she asked to be friends, much to the chagrin of a hundred scarlet wings beating in his ears, and pulled her in for a hug so she wouldn’t see it on his face, plain-as-day.

The milky white moonlight caressed his cheek fondly, like a mother would, as he breathed in Marinette’s rose perfume. He knew had to let her go, it was just a matter of time.

Foolishly, he wished he’d kept the snake miraculous he’d borrowed weeks ago, just so he could have a second chance with her. A chance to do it again, do it right this time. A chance to sweep her off her feet; to put the butterflies under her skin before Adrien, before anyone.

But Luka understood with a sinking feeling that even that wouldn’t be enough. He’d watched the way his parents clawed at one another’s sanity mere hours ago, unable to see that their fighting was turning down Juleka’s quiet symphony even further into herself.

People like them, like him, didn’t get second chances. Not when it mattered, anyway.

Awesome! I always wanted to be the Knitting Fairy in real life!

Luka was half terror when he watched Paris’ bravest superhero transform into the love of his life.

It transcended panic, surpassed horror. The worst thing in the world that could’ve happened just happened and he had no idea what to do about it.

Marinette? He said her name like a prayer, like a wish that hovered on his tongue ever so delicately, ready to disappear into the wind. But as the girl turned around and beamed at him, the happiest smile on her face, Luka finally felt the final piece of of her melody click into place.

Second chance!

He took the dread and stuffed it down, deep, deep down inside of him; somewhere under the graveyard of ladybugs, shredded posters and scales. The shock would have to wait, he could only be one thing at a time and right now he had to be Viperion.

When I was a kid, I always wanted to be what my parents wanted me to be!

Luka wished he hadn’t turned around.

Where Chat Noir once stood, now Adrien Agreste took his place, looking vaguely cheery despite what he’d just said moments before. He didn’t even need to use his powers to know Chat Noir had gotten hit by the akuma on purpose.

Marinette hadn’t noticed yet, too busy talking to a man whose childhood dream was to become a stuffed animal, and the anxiety rose up like bile in the back of his throat. He’d been half pain before but this was something new.

Luka was half pity, half hope. Half defeat.

His heart seemed to be breaking over and over in his chest, the muscle spasming so violently that everything in him was instantly ground to dust. The walls, the silence, the ladybugs. All the pain he’d carried around with him since his very first akumatisation.

Because nothing he was going through could ever compare to Marinette and Adrien being... to them being..

Second chance!

Viperion was wholly conviction when he reassured Ladybug that he’d make sure no one would discover their secret identities. If he were still Luka he’d wonder how he hadn’t seen it before– her strength, her determination, the way Marinette’s nose crinkled when she was focused on something, all of it matched the red and black-spotted superhero to a T.

But he, much like the rest of Paris, had only ever seen what they wanted to see. And Luka hadn’t wanted to see her in pain.

Not even me- luckily Wishmaker never hit you or Chat Noir.

He expected the lie to sour his tongue, turn his skin blue with irony, but it came easily, almost too easily for his comfort. But Marinette (because she would only ever be Marinette to him) smiled like his word was more than enough for her to trust him forever and turned to leave, like she’d done so many times before.

Now he knew why.

The ladybugs in chest (ha!) swarmed against his rib cage as she left, tiny wings beating furiously as though they were trying to break right through his skin and follow her back home.

Before Luka could think to question why, he was already running after her, reading the fluttering inside him like a compass, leading him further and further away from the street, down the sidewalk, all the way to the only thing that ever made him whole. All the way to her–

Luka! Thank you for hiding me in here!

He wanted it to be a dream, a really bad dream; a really awful, terrible dream he’d wake up from any second, but when she’d opened the door, a nanosecond before he’d knocked and smiled up at him, her shoulders slumped over with the weight of the world; all he could think was how lucky he was.

Lucky to have known her, lucky to have loved her. Lucky to be empty enough to carry her secret for now, for forever.

You guys are okay!

“We’re all okay,” Luka smiled, looking between his two friends, “Thanks to Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

He’d almost meant it this time, but as he watched the Ladybug and Chat Noir in front of him look into each other’s eyes, completely unaware of all the forces of the universe that had conspired to bring them both to this moment, Luka knew he would never be whole.

For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half. It was only when he turned fifteen, watching the dying sun set over the Seine, did he realise that the other half of him had only ever been other people’s secrets.

-fin-

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verfound · 18 days

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WIP Wednesday: 04.10.2024

I think I've added another two chapters to this fic because Jagged, and I'm not even sorry.

Juleka had called Rose in the next day, and they shanghaied Marinette for a day of cheesy romcoms, mani pedis, and too much ice cream. They had all been sprawled out on the couch, passing a bowl of popcorn between them, when Jagged had shambled down the stairs in gold-striped boxers and a purple tank top, his hair a mess and his socks falling off his feet. Luka had been in the middle of saying something to her when she squeaked, and he looked away from the screen to find her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open.

“Oh my God, it’s Jagged Stone!” she hissed when he poked her arm, and he turned to find her staring at his dad as said dad scratched his stomach and yawned. Luka groaned and threw a pillow at him.

“Gross, Dad!” he called. “Put some fucking pants on!”

“My house, kid!” Jagged snapped back as he chucked the pillow back towards the couch. Luka caught it before it could hit Marinette in the face. “I’ll wear pants when I damn well feel like it! After coffee!”

He continued on to the kitchen, and Luka rolled his eyes before looking back at Marinette. She was still staring after his dad with wide eyes, a light blush on her face. He reached over and laid a hand on her knee.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked.

“It’s just Dad,” Juleka said, looking over Rose’s head at her. Rose was oblivious, squealing as something happened on screen and crushing the popcorn in her hand as she wiggled. “You knew who our dad was.”

“I know, but…I mean he’s never here!” Marinette hissed, gesturing blindly. “I’ve never actually met him before!”

“Rock ‘n roll is busy work,” Jagged’s sleep-grumbled voice said beside her, and Marinette squeaked and threw herself into Luka as she turned and found Jagged Stone leaning against the back of the couch, right beside her. He grinned at her and held out a hand. “Hey. I’m Jay.”

“She knows who you are, Dad,” Luka said, rolling his eyes. He squeezed her shoulders, rubbing them absently as she shook against him. “She’s kind of a huge fan.”

“No shit?” Jagged laughed, Marinette nodded mutely, and he wiggled his fingers at her. “You ok there, kid?”

“FINE!” Marinette screeched, and when Jagged’s eyebrows rose she groaned and slapped her burning face in her hands. “I-I mean yes! Sorry! I…oh my God, kill me now…”

“Dad, this is Marinette,” Juleka drawled, grinning at her when she peeked out over her fingertips. “Our friend from school.”

“’Friend’, huh? You two seemed pretty close last night,” Jagged said, grinning at Luka. He wiggled his fingers again as Luka groaned. Marinette smiled nervously and took his hand, giving it a timid shake. “Nice to meet you, Marinette.”

“S-same,” she said. “I…I really am a big fan. Your last album got me through finals.”

“Don’t tell him that — his ego’s big enough,” Luka groaned.

“Is that so?” Jagged laughed, giving her hand a firmer shake. “Happy to help. I like her, Lu.”

“Dad,” Luka hissed, but Jagged just waved him off and told them all to behave (the fact that it was Jagged meant none of them took him seriously). He was off to the basement studio with a mug of coffee and a plate a few minutes later, and Luka sighed as he dropped his head back against the couch. “You get used to him. Sorry.”

But Marinette just smiled and settled against him, reaching for the popcorn as she turned her attention back to the movie. If Juleka shot him a look over her soulmate’s head when Marinette stayed there, tucked against him, Luka pretended to ignore it.

#wip wednesday #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #jagged stone #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #julerose #wip fic #ver fic #all these signs #it was this or the faceoff with gabriel #I need to just start posting this damn fic 😂#this has been a week of mondays and I need jagged giggles

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blondiest · 3 months

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[repeatedly to myself] i'm allowed to be mediocre i'm allowed to be mediocre i'm allowed to be mediocre i'm allowed to be mediocre I'M ALLOWED TO BE MEDIOCRE

#^ writing troubles. u understnd.#for some reason instead of working on. anything i need to update. i ended up writing up the final installment of the ghost fic.#and it's nothing outstanding T__T i want it to be really Good #and that's literally what editing is for but rn i'm like [throwing myself onto a pile of jagged rocks] leave me to die this is all i can do #okay i'm normal now. UGH

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writer-rider-flirty-thirties · 3 months

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The Gorille Is In?

For the @mlbigbang this year, I've written a new fic! Feel free to check it out!

Summary:

Gorille isn't sure how any of this happened. One day he was waiting to drive Adrien to his next photoshoot, the next he was... a sounding board for couples???

Rated: E Relationships: Emilie/Gabriel, Tom/Sabine, Adrien/Marinette, Nino/Alya, Emilie/Gabriel/Nathalie, Luka/Adrien, Kim/Alix/Max, Jagged/Anarka/Penny, Luka/Adrien/Marinette, and Gorille/??

#mlb 2023 #miraculous ladybug big bang #miraculous big bang #miraculous ladybug #Gabriel/Emilie #Gabriel/Emilie/Nathalie #Tom/Sabine #Adrinette #DJWifi #Lukadrien #Klimax #Jagged/Anarka/Penny #Lukadrinette #le gorille #crack fic #ao3 fanfic

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goggles-mcgee · 1 year

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Too Late: Jagged, Penny & Clara

Latest Chapter in the story for @miner249er

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Regret is a funny, ugly little thing and Jagged regretted a lot, but nothing more than not noticing how much Marinette was hurting. He regretted not being there, so he's ready to help in anyway he can, even if Marinette isn't there to see it.

Random notes swam through the air as Jagged plucked at his guitar string every now and then, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He wasn’t a man that liked to be weighed down by his troubles, it was what made him a great Rockstar because usually he could put his troubles into notes and make a killer song out of them which in some weird way helped him work through them. But I don’t think all the songs I could write in the world could get me through this…He thought with a grimace. It hurt to move his face much given the amount of tears he had shed since Paris had been “liberated.” What a joke that was. Paris wasn’t liberated. Not really. Sure they no longer had Hawkmoth looming over them like some kind of sadistic twisted talent scout, but they weren’t better. The random bouts of yelling and crying and laughing at inappropriate times were a testament to that.

No one knew how to feel their emotions healthily anymore so they all came out in these ugly blobs. Jagged felt bad, he really did, especially given he wasn’t in Paris a lot of the time during Hawkmoth’s reign. Sure it seemed like he was but Jagged could only handle so much of Paris before he felt like a balloon filled with too much air and Penny knew that. So they would always go to one of his houses in Daresbury where his mother had lived before she passed. If there was one thing Jagged understood and prioritized with himself, it was his emotions. When he was younger, about mid-teens, his parents fought about his “behavior” and how he was a bad egg. Well that’s what his father said, it was always something along those lines and he always used what he said as an excuse to hit Jagged, to “shape him up.” His father had always said he was ungrateful and lazy and had too much of an attitude, but his mum, God bless his dear mum, she knew something wasn’t okay.

It was when she took him to a doctor to talk about it that his dad really freaked, he never liked to talk about that night but that was the night Bruce Lewis went to prison and Jagged and his mother were admitted to the hospital. That was also the night his mother decided to change Jagged’s last name to her maiden name, so there was no part of him attached to his father in any way. That was the night Jagged became Jareth David Stone and he had cried. Things got better for them and things got a bit worse of course, his mum had to provide for the two of them and on top of that they were doing their best to learn about BPD, specifically Bipolar II Disorder since that was Jagged’s official diagnosis. It wasn’t always perfect but damn it was a happy time for the both of them, of course Jagged still had his ups and downs but his mother was always there to help him or just support him during his episodes. She was a kind soul that always saw the good in people and she was so protective over those she cared about.

Maybe that’s why he liked Marinette so much. She reminded him of his mother in all the best ways and unfortunately all the bad ways too. Both women were too afraid to tell people no or let people know when they themselves needed help. Jagged’s heart hurt at the memories that rushed into his head but it was true. His mum had the weight of the world on her shoulders for so long that when she had the opportunities to ask for help, she never did, and on some levels Jagged understood but then he’d remember that damned phone call that came. That one from a doctor he hadn’t known about told him the words he dreaded to hear most, his mother had died. At first he hadn’t believed the man, he thought it was some cruel joke by some obsessed fan of his that was looking for his attention, or perhaps some tabloid journalist that was looking for a story to make a fool out of him by saying he cried over the phone. Unfortunately it was neither of those things, his mother had well and truly died in the hospital due to a nasty case of pneumonia.

It had torn his world apart. He canceled everything once he was sure, his remaining tour dates, his guest appearances, his CD and record signings, all of it. History repeats itself, he mused. When he heard that Marinette had gone missing he had honest to God felt the World tilt in an attempt to dislodge him. He had been floating in space in this numbness before he had one of his worst episodes, it wasn’t as bad as the one he had when he found out his mother died or when he found out he had been a father of twins and hadn’t been there for them or Anarka but it was up there. The teen had kicked the door to his heart in and basically lived there with all his other loved ones. It wasn’t an exaggeration when he said, even if it was only to himself, that Marinette was like another kid to him. He saw her as a daughter and that made everything so much worse. Jagged knew she had Tom and Sabine but there was no denying that he and Penny saw Marinette as a daughter and they both knew that Tom and Sabine knew.

He had just gotten back into Paris after going on a small tour for his new album when the world crumbled around him. Penny had gotten them their usual room at Le Grand Paris while they had been trying to close a deal on some property so they could have a more permanent home there as well so they wouldn’t have to stay at the hotel every time they came back to Paris. Jagged had been so excited that he had been back in Paris and that he would be able to spend time with Luka, Juleka and Marinette that he barely slept on the plane ride back so he basically crashed as soon as they checked in and he blamed himself for that everyday now. Maybe if he had been awake, maybe if he had had seen the news he would have been able to call Marinette and maybe just maybe she wouldn’t have been akumatized. No one deserved to be akumatized but if someone had to be he would have taken that possessed butterfly a thousand times over for Marinette.

Knowing that Luka and Juleka had been akumatized had ripped his heart into messy pieces, knowing he hadn’t been there for them even if at the time he hadn’t known about them but when he knew he made sure both of them knew they could call and that he would be there for them no matter what. They were all learning how to rely on each other, them with their everyday issues and him letting them help and even just see his episodes. It was tough to be so vulnerable in front of his children because he wanted them to rely on him and he had those twisted thoughts that screamed that once his kids saw one of his episodes, that they would turn tail and run. He knew it wasn’t true, they proved time and time again that they didn’t think any less of him, nor were they afraid of his episodes and God…he loved his kids. He loved them so much. Jagged had never understood when parents had said that a parent’s love for their kids was something that could never be described, it was all encompassing, it was … frightening. Jagged had never understood until he did.

Loving his children was as easy as it was heartbreaking. It was easy because there were just so many things about each one that added to his ever growing love of them, and it was heartbreaking because of every hurt they felt and that heartbreak seemed to multiply ten-fold with Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth had managed to akumatize two of his three children and maybe it was awful of him to wish and pray it, but dammit did he wish and pray that Marinette would be spared. Of course he wished Luka and Juleka weren’t victims of Hawkmoth over and over like that pigeon guy, but there was just something about Marinette that made it seem like if she got akumatized, things really were bad. They all found out what that something was he mused as he played the familiar cords of his Ladybug song. It was common for him to make all his songs work on piano and guitar. Piano for his Mum, guitar for him. His Mum adored piano and had come from a pretty well-off family when she was young so she had been classically trained in piano.

“Have you heard?” The familiar voice of Clara Nightingale crashed through Jagged’s thoughts.

“Hello Clara.” Penny, ever so polite, greeted.

Jagged sat up on his couch and gently put his guitar down as he gave the younger singer a once-over. It had been a good while since she had ditched her signature microphone so it was no surprise to not see it. What was a surprise was the look of fury on her face. “Heard what?”

“Goodness you haven’t.” Clara sighed out harshly, it almost sounded like a growl as she began to pace. “I…I hate to be the one to give you the latest “miraculous” news but I mean, this might be better than hearing it on the news like I just did. They are planning to make an animated show revolving around Marinette! As Ladybug! The sketches they released look exactly like her! And, and they are basically just making it a biography in cartoon form! With “creative” additions.”

“I’m scared to ask what those “creative” additions are.” Penny wrinkled her nose, most likely trying to think up what they meant by “creative” and whatever she was thinking was particularly unpleasant.

Clara continued to pace and Jagged distantly wondered if it was actually possible for someone to wear a floor down so much they just fall through. Then it all caught up to him and his blood froze before boiling. “They must actually be fucking insane. Pen…Pen, get the lawyers. All of them. Mar…Marinette has gone through enough. She doesn’t need this, she doesn’t need people exploiting her life for money. Her likeness for money.”

“I’ll add my lawyers to the pile too if it’ll help.” Clara offered as she plopped herself down on the couch opposite of Jagged. The poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She hid it well, unlike her heartbreak which Jagged related to all too well. When everything hit the fan, Jagged became quieter and louder, it was exhausting, and Clara…Clara lost her spark. She stopped rhyming. She stopped dancing. She still wrote music, he knew she did because she would come over to either work on said music, collaborate, or just work through the emotions with music. Jagged also knew it was as out of worry for a friend as it was guilt. Clara had confided in him and Penny that she had recently commissioned Marinette for a new jacket and matching skirt for a new music video she was going to shoot just before the teen had gone missing.

Clara had weeped, wailed, thrown whatever was in reach because she blamed herself for adding stress on Marinette’s plate. Everyone in the room knew the teen had a problem with saying no to others but they had thought they had made sure she knew that she could always tell them no, no matter the circumstances. They should have known that no matter what they said the teen never would have taken it easy if it meant she could help them, Marinette loved helping others even if it meant the decline of herself. Whether that be in time, mental or physical health or even personal care. It reminded him of himself or Clara when they were in a creative rut and felt like they needed to produce something.

Whatever they pushed themselves to do always could have come out better if they had made themselves relax and take a moment to just breath and exist. That was just the curse of creative people though, or that’s how Jagged felt anyway, and Marinette was a very creative person. She didn’t stop at one medium of art, she excelled in fashion, she loved to do digital art, any crafts she could make with her hands were mastered in no time. It was like she was made from pure creativity. It was insane and it was like if you were near her, you just felt so inspired to create. It was one of the many things that Jagged loved about the girl. She knew how to help bounce ideas around and when too much was too much, sure it would take her a while to find her voice but when she did you couldn’t help but listen.

Marinette was an inspiration without even being Ladybug. Being Ladybug just added to it all. So it was no surprise that people wanted to tell others about her, it was the way they were doing it that was pissing Jagged off. “I want to talk to the show’s creator, the writers, the works! Pen, we also need to call Tom and Sabine, if they don’t already know we need to tell them, and if they do know then we need to tell them we are calling the lawyers up and what we are planning to do to make sure this show doesn’t do Marinette wrong.”

“I’ll give them a call now.” Penny confirmed with a soft smile directed at Jagged, one he hoped he reflected but honestly he felt so drained. “Clara, how about you get comfortable? We were about to order lunch and we would love to have you.”

Clara slumped further into the couch and gave Penny a fond smile as she shook her head. They both knew it wasn’t a question to stay and have lunch, Penny was telling Clara she was having lunch with them. “Whatever you say Pen.”

While Penny did that Jagged turned to Clara to really look at her and sighed, “How are you doing kid?”

“As well as I can be. I’ve been seeing that therapist you suggested. The one in London? She’s been helping.”

“Good. I’m glad. Maggie is always a joy to see when I visit her sister Anna for a session. Anna was the one who suggested Maggie, and maybe it’s a bit of a little sister bias but she did say sometimes it’s easier to speak to people that are closer in age to us. Well for some people.” Jagged shared.

Clara nodded. “Yeah, I think her being closer to my age does help. It feels like I’m just venting to a friend or something which is nice.”

“See? Therapy ain’t so big and scary.”

“Not if you have the right therapist you mean.” Clara snarked.

“Okay, fair.” Jagged conceded.

Penny walked back over to them, plopped herself next to Jagged, and laid her head on his shoulder before she let out a long sigh. He rubbed her back slowly, “Tough call, Love?”

“I just can’t handle hearing Sabine cry anymore Jareth. It breaks my heart.” Penny practically whispered.

“I know, Love. Me too. But we’re gonna do something to hopefully help her days get a little more bearable.”

“If only we could sue The Followers. They’re doing more damage than anyone.” Clara huffed, her eyes wet with tears. The Followers…they had all been hurt in some way by the group. Jagged’s heart still hurt at the thought of his Eiffel Tower glasses that had been stolen from the very hotel they were staying in. They even got their grubby little hands on a pocket square, the very first thing Marinette had made for Penny. At first, Jagged hadn’t even wanted to stay at the stupid hotel after the pain it had caused due to its lax security, but after watching the footage of the overwhelming rush/attack of the hotel, he really couldn’t blame them. There were just so many of them, and they acted all at once. It was terrifying.

“Dad!” That one word broke their little bubble and immediately set Jagged on edge. He didn’t even realize he had gotten to his feet until he was already halfway towards the door meeting Luka and his friend Kagami.

“Luka. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is Juleka hurt? Your mom?”

“Dad. Dad, no. We’re fine. None of us are hurt.” Luka said as he put his hands on Jagged’s shoulders that sank when he realized his son, daughter and their mother were not in danger or hurt.

“Well I wouldn’t say we are fine but we are not in immediate danger.” Kagami said from her place beside Luka.

“Come sit down. Lunch will be here and you guys can tell us what is going on.” Penny said calmly, Jagged was once again thanking his lucky star that he met her and fell in love with her. She always knew how to keep a level head.

“Lunch sounds swell, thank you.” Kagami, also someone who knew how to keep a level head nodded before she took a seat next to Clara. Luka was still standing looking more than a bit harried though.

“You okay kiddo? You look like five different genres of music are blasting at full volume in your ears.” Jagged put a hand on Luka’s shoulder and gently guided him to the couch so he could sit down. Now that he got a closer look, it seemed as though both teens had been running at some point. Maybe even to the hotel and that worried Jagged.

Luka sighed but gave Jagged a relieved smile, “That’s exactly how I feel. Everything is just…it just feels so…if I had my guitar I’d be able to show it but…everything is just so overwhelming is the best I can put it.”

“Well, lay it on your old man, what’s going on?”

Luka bit his lip before he took a deep breath in, locked eyes with Kagami and then with Jagged. “Kagami and I had been noticing weird things while we were out…and like at first we didn’t think anything of it, I mean everything has been weird since…since Mar-...well you know.”

Jagged nodded, he did know. Marinette’s disappearance was like Paris’s own Pandora’s box. “Yeah I getcha.”

“It was actually a couple days ago that things progressed but we never thought they would act so quickly or in such a way. Basically, we noticed people watching us at first, which was strange but given everything that has happened we thought we just had to get used to it.” Kagami picked up after Luka.

“Watching you?” Clara echoed, worry clear in her voice. “How many people?”

“We never got a good enough look at first.” Luka mumbled like he was ashamed they hadn’t been more observant. Dammit they were kids! They shouldn’t feel bad about not being on guard twenty-four seven, and they certainly shouldn’t feel the need to note everything going on around them. “But then it uh, upgraded.”

“Upgraded?” Penny’s voice and grip on the back of the couch was tight.

“A group of people started to follow us. It was small. We thought we could handle it.” Kagami informed them stiffly.

“Kid…” Jagged breathed out.

“We…They weren’t saying anything or chasing us. We thought it-that they would go away. Like a rumor or something.” Luka tried to explain.

“But from there we noticed the groups getting bigger, they were following us longer…” Kagami trailed off as she started down at her lap. “Then we noticed them following us online as well.”

“We thought if we blocked the random people it would help. It didn’t. Eventually we went private, if you noticed that’s uh, that’s why. We didn’t know why they were doing all of this until today…” Luka sounded so small and Jagged wanted nothing more than to pull his kid into his arms but they were still mapping out physical affection and he didn’t want to make things worse in case that was a no-go for Luka.

“Today they group approached us…” Kagami said, her voice shook. Jagged’s heart broke all over again, this was a spunky girl who usually was never bothered by anything. At the end of the day though, she was just a kid, a kid trying to deal with too much by herself. “I should have brought my sword. I always take my sword but today I didn’t and…The group approached us and started shouting questions. They even tried to get us to sign things.”

“Sign things?” Clara asked, alarmed.

“Nothing bad, just autographs.” Luka jumped in to comfort Clara.

“Autographs.” Penny deadpanned.

“To be frank,” Kagami began, “They believe that Luka and Myself were Viperion and Ryuuko respectively. Apparently we have…fans. Though some of the questions asked were why we failed Ladybug, or something similar.”

“They asked us to confirm our “identities.” Other questions were just really creepy. They kept trying to shake our hands.” Luka shuddered.

“Apparently some even run blogs about us. One even knew my favorite drink.” Now it was Kagami who sounded small.

Jagged was burning mad. He was trying his best not to lose it, but FUCK he was scared for his kid! Mad for his kid! Luka and Kagami did not deserve this, any of this. They deserved to mourn their friend, hope for her return, binge eat ice cream and cry. They did not deserve to be stalked. No one deserved to be stalked, and if there was anything that Jagged hated, it was stalkers. “Penny. Clara. I need you both to call up any good bodyguards you know. No Luka, no arguing. These people are stalking you. Stalking you. Stalkers escalate, Son. I don’t want to see you hurt, either of you. So until we can figure out what we can do legal wise, I need to know you two are safe and that means bodyguards.”

Luka and Kagami just looked at Jagged like he hung the moon and he did his best not to cry from feeling overwhelmed himself. He was doing the bare minimum of being a parent he thought. But he would earn those looks, he promised himself at that moment that he would.

Next Chapter

#too late commission #goggles writes #goggles commission #ml salt fic #jagged stone #penny rolling #clara nightingale #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #kagami tsuguri #marinette dupain cheng #marinette deserves better #angst #hurt and a wee bit of comfort #none of marinette's family and friends are having a good time #they all need a hug #drowning in guilt #jagged loves his kids

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venomouschocolate · 7 months

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kristherapy...

#ace attorney #aa #aa fanfic #kristoph gavin #a nameless faceless doctor... a snapshot of jagged memories... trauma... insanity...#because last time y'all really though i - I. VENOMOUSCHOCOLATE - would give him a chance #there are no chances #this is a terrible fic in which everything goes wrong all of the time

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dyslexic-gremlin · 1 year

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Goose is the Best Emotional Support [ch. 4]

Read on AO3!

Chapter title: Eddie Brock & Venom Symbiote

Notes: Basically just a bunch of fluff with Goose and Peter hanging out with people.

Main characters: Peter Parker, Goose, Eddie Brock, Venom

Important tags: Fluff, romance (ig?? kinda between V + Eddie)

Word count: 2127

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday, 11:00 AM

Food.

Eddie sighed as Venom complained, again.

Food, Eddie. We need food.

We’ve still got a few miles to go, love. We can eat when we get there, promise.

Venom’s growl reverberated throughout their being and Eddie pointedly ignored it. After all, their need to make a cross-country road trip on a motorcycle was because of the symbiote. While the reporter never liked flying (due to being forced into a contained space that was very far up in the sky) he used to be able to take some drugs that knocked him out for the duration.

Ever since their merge, however, medicines either refused to work for them or caused them other problems. He still would have put up with it if not for the pain generated by the frequencies an airplane would emit. So, a drive it was.

The fact they needed to have the trip in the first place was also Venom’s fault. Well, technically, it was Drake’s fault when it came down to it. After all, he was the one who introduced symbiotes to Earth. But they were the ones who had gotten contacted by the Avengers and were forced to head to New York.

Why they couldn’t have had the meeting near their house was lost on the pair, seeing as there was an Avengers base on the west coast it could have been held at. But nope, they were told to make their way to New York for it. Damn self-entitled heroes.

To be fair, Stark had offered to comp the plane tickets or send one of his private jets to pick them up, but Eddie had to refuse. They had made decent time anyway with Venom taking the controls whenever Eddie needed to rest, and it was the beginning of day three when they pulled into the compound. Eddie was grateful for that fact because, while their motorbike was top-of-the-line (at least when Eddie had first bought it), it wasn’t comfortable to ride it for a long amount of time.

Eddie quickly parked their bike and jumped off it to stretch. He secured his helmet to the motorcycle and shrugged off his biker jacket. Without any prompting, Venom reached a tendril out and dug through the duffle on Eddie’s back to pull out a comfortable pullover. It probably wasn’t the best thing he should wear when meeting a group of superheroes, but neither of them cared enough (if they were going to drag them across the country then they can put up with his casual clothing).

He quickly tugged the hoodie on and eyed the cameras he could see warily. Even though there was a promise, after the threat of a lawsuit, that any recorded material of the pair would either be sealed or destroyed after the meet Eddie was still anxious. He begrudgingly trusted the Avengers, though, and strode towards the building.

“Where the hell is the entrance?” Eddie muttered while he scanned the area and shoved his hands into the jacket’s pockets. There didn’t seem to be any signs or directionals so the pair resigned themselves to walking around until they came across someone.

We could break down the wall–

No!

Thankfully it didn’t take long for them to see someone. It was a sturdy-looking man with a larger build who eyed them in suspicion. Eddie waved a greeting and he ignored Venom’s grumble about how uncool it was.

The man swiftly approached them with a frown, “I’m sorry, this is private property and only preapproved personnel are permitted. If you would allow me to escort you back to your car–”

When he saw the hand reaching for their person, Eddie knew he had to do something before his other reacted in his hungry, annoyed state. The reporter took a few steps back and raised his hands in a non-threatening manner.

“Uh, sorry. I’m Eddie Brock. Tony Stark asked me here, so..?”

The man blinked and took a moment to check his phone. At least he stopped approaching and even gave Eddie more time to reel Venom back in as he spoke to someone on an earpiece.

He’s just doing his job! Exacerbation seeped into his mental exchange, He’s probably security or something, we can’t eat him just because he’s doing what he’s paid to do.

He is in our way, keeping us from food. I can smell chocolate in the air… so close…

Their mental conversation was broken by a throat being cleared. Eddie turned to look at the man who had his arms crossed and only looked slightly more receptive.

“Follow me, please. Seems like you arrived earlier than expected.”

Without even a glance back to make sure he was being followed, the man started towards a glass wall. Well, he’s had worse welcomes.

“Hey, we’re a little hungry,” Eddie sheepishly admitted as he hurried after the man, not noticing his slip-up, “would we be able to get some food?”

What looked like a window turned out to be an automatic door. As soon as the three of them got close it opened inward with no resistance and an accompanying blast of cold air. All the pair got in response was a nod (either he was naturally quiet or he just really disliked them. Or both).

“Thanks, Mister..?”

“Hogan.”

At least they finally got a name so they could stop addressing him as ‘the man.’

I liked it.

Shut up.

Mr. Hogan led them past a reception desk (where the receptionist didn’t even look twice at them) and into an empty sitting room. He soon left with a promise to come back with refreshments, leaving the two to their own devices.

Just as Eddie was assessing the space they were in a young man with an armful of cat and chocolate wandered in. He stopped halfway through shoving a chunk of milk chocolate into his mouth (and it was weird that they could identify the type of chocolate just by the smell) when his eyes landed on Eddie.

Out of an impulse rather than anything else, Eddie waved yet again. This time it was accompanied by a genuine smile.

The kid opened his mouth to say something (maybe to question why they were there) when the cat in his arms snagged the remainder of his chocolate and squirmed their way to the ground. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they bolted to the seated partners. A bewildered squawk escaped the stranger while he reached for the cat.

“Goose! No! I don’t think you can eat that!”

Eddie had barely processed the situation when the cat, Goose, had bound up to them and deposited the lump of chocolate in their lap. Only a moment later did Venom shoot a tether out that consumed the chocolate whole. The pleased hmm the symbiote let out almost distracted Eddie from the literal child who was gaping at them. Shit.

“Oh. My. God!” the kid exclaimed. His tone sounded more excited than scared, which was surprising but good.

The only adult in the room stood up abruptly and he made sure to not hit the cat (Flerken, Eddie. She is a flerken)– made sure to not hit the flerken and flailed his hands, “Look, kid–”

Said kid had taken a few steps forward and absentmindedly supplied his name, “Peter. Not a kid.”

“Look, Peter,” Eddie would have taken a step back but their calves were already pressed against the front of the chair, “I’m sure there’s a completely reasonable explanation for whatever you think you saw! Lemme just think of one quickly…”

Venom never pulled his tether in from earlier and it swiftly morphed into the silky black ink of the alien’s head. Eddie saw Peter’s eyes widen at the display.

“For a reporter, Eddie, you are not good with words.”

“Okay, love, not what I need to be hearing right now, alright? We’re hungry and tired and now this kid– sorry– Peter here is probably in shock and his cat won’t stop rubbing our damn leg!”

Eddie ignored his other’s comment about how the correct species for the being currently pressed against them was a flerken. He didn’t have time to consider whatever that meant.

His words snapped Peter out of the daze he had been lulled into when he watched Venom materialize. He rushed forward and gathered Goose in his arms– then he began to struggle as the flerken tried her best to break free and reach out to the symbiote.

“I’m so sorry! Usually, she’s super chill and never jumps at strangers like that! Well, actually, she has been doing that more recently…”

Eddied paused the argument he had been having with Venom and turned towards Peter in confusion.

“That’s what you’re most worried about? Not the parasite oozing from my body?”

Venom growled at their partner, “Not a parasite.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie placated and reached over to stroke Venom’s head soothingly, “y’know I mean nothing of it.”

The huff he got in reply would be the best he could get, so he took it.

“Well…” Peter spoke up and drew the pair’s attention from each other yet again, “I’m used to weird shit. I mean, if someone has a gooey alien S/O who am I to judge? Might as well just roll with it.”

Eddie blinked at him while Venom reached a tendril out to pet Goose (an action that calmed the cat flerken down enough that she stopped her struggle). Something had to be wrong with that kid because not even Annie and Dan accepted their relationship that fast. Whatever, he could also ‘roll with it.’

“Okay then. Anyway, thanks for the chocolate. We’ve been pretty hungry and Vee says certain foods are better for us than others.”

Peter just waved them off, his gaze still locked onto Venom’s form in interest. “No worries. May says I eat too many sweets anyway. It’s nice to meet you two! What’re your names?”

“Idiot, stupid Eddie. Forgetting introductions.”

“I’m sorry I was too busy panicking! Anyway, I’m Eddie Brock, and you can call him Venom.”

That finally made Peter’s eyes shift to the human part of their pair, though the interest in them didn’t diminish at all.

“Eddie Brock? Like the Brock Report? Oh, man! I loved your show! It’s so great to meet you. MJ’s gonna be so pissed she had to leave early.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. Teenagers would be teenagers, he supposed. And fans would be fans.

“Excuse me,” a voice spoke from the other side of the room. Eddie was the only one who jumped (Damnit Vee, give me a heads up next time!) and they all turned to see Mr. Hogan standing there with a platter in his hands.

“Hey-ya, Happy,” Peter greeted him with a wave and a smile.

Mr. Hogan nodded at Peter and returned his smile, “Hi, Peter. Boss asked me to tell you to ‘stop bugging our guests and clean up that mess in Steve’s room.’”

Peter groaned and gently squeezed Goose against his chest. “It’s not my fault Steve threw Goose out a window! He had it coming. Who the hell reacts to a cat in their room that way?!”

Regardless of his complaining though, the kid sighed and pulled Goose away from Venom (an action that made both of them react with sad noises) before he headed towards the exit Mr. Hogan was standing in.

“She holds a grudge, y’know,” Peter advised the man as he passed by, “Steve won't even see her coming when she decides to enact more revenge.”

Happy just rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion with one of his hands. Peter paused his grumbling to say goodbye to both Eddie and Venom before he continued his way around the corner and out of sight.

“Now,” Mr. Hogan said as he turned to address the only people left in the room (he must have been briefed somewhat on their situation because the man didn’t even blink when he caught sight of Venom), “if you’d please follow me. Mr. Stark, Captain Rodgers, and Ms. Gamora are waiting to speak with you.

Before he turned to leave, Venom shot out a pair of tentacles to grab the platter from Mr. Hogan’s hands and pulled it close to them. Another tendril appeared and they started to shovel food into their gaping maw. That, at least, caused Mr. Hogan to pause for a moment in what was most likely disgust.

Eddie shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manner before gesturing for Happy to lead the way. After another second the man did, and Eddie followed. Hey, Vee, Eddie silently voiced to his partner as they walked and he kept eating, what’s a flerken?

Chapter index: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

#Jagged’s fics #GITBES #Peter Parker #Goose (the cat)#Eddie Brock #venom symbiote #symbrock #Fanfiction #MCU fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #Fluff #Peter Parker fluff #Peter Parker is a little shit #Goose is a little shit #slice of life fanfiction

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nerdypanda3126 · 1 year

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Playing with Fire – Ch. 10

Hiii! lol this story isn't dead or abandoned, I promise! 😁 Huge thanks to @verfound for the eternal bog conversation 😆 and to @mintaka14 for betaing this chapter! 💖

Jagged catches up with Tom and Sabine, Marinette and Luka start their search, and Juleka has an unexpected visitor.

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

As Jagged made his way through the little town on the way to Luka’s tower, he noticed instantly that something was wrong.

For one thing, the bakery was closed.

And for another, not one person asked him about his new mandolin, or told him to stop playing.

Everyone just seemed… jumpy. On edge. Watching each other out of the corner of their eyes.

He stashed his mandolin on his back and shoved his way into the bakery door, despite it being closed. Tom and Sabine had never had an issue with his visits, considering he was a regular, one of the King’s Wizards, and always bought huge quantities of their bread.

Instead of the bright, booming laugh he’d come to expect, though, he was greeted by Tom’s big hands shoving him back out.

“No bread today,” he growled, “just like yesterday and the day before that. Not until the people of this town apologize.”

“Wait, whoa, hold up!” Jagged yelled as he stuck his hands and feet in the doorway to prevent being shoved out. There was a harsh crack of wood behind him and he groaned as he realized his brand new mandolin was probably broken at the neck. Again. “I’m here as a friend!”

The hands pushing him out were pulled away and Jagged turned his head to look. Tom had taken two huge steps back and was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry, there, Jagged, I guess I thought…”

Jagged relaxed and slipped the mandolin from around his neck to assess the damage. Snapped completely in half, strings ripped apart… geez, how much brute strength did the guy have anyways? Luckily he knew the repair spell by heart and he forced the wood back together to perform it.

“Now then,” he said when he finished, “what’s going on in this town?”

Sabine scuttled forward with a cup of tea and she laid a hand on Tom’s arm as she set the cup on the table and invited Jagged to sit. He waved her off and the couple shared an uncomfortable look.

“Marinette was here,” Sabine started carefully, “...with Luka.”

Jagged snorted. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“It does?”

“Sure, great leapin’ lizard shows up outta nowhere. ‘Course people are scared.”

“Well, no, he wasn’t… he looked human, it was just…”

“He’s not,” Jagged completed simply. “And people don’t like what they don’t understand. Can’t understand.” His own brow furrowed with the thought. Wizards hadn't been all that acceptable at first, either, until the King realized they were useful. Still left a bitter taste in Jagged's mouth.

“There was some sort of stand off in the town square,” Sabine continued. “They both escaped, but the townspeople… well…”

“They formed a bloody mob and went after them!” Tom thundered. Sabine laid a hand on his forearm and he quieted.

“We tried to explain, it was out of self-defense, but no one would listen to us.”

“Then they wanted bread the next day like they hadn’t just gone after my family,” Tom growled.

"Wait, they went after them?" Jagged asked, his attention snapping back to Sabine. "What do you mean 'they went after them'? What happened?"

Tom let out a little snort of laughter and sat to cover his chortles. It made Jagged feel somewhat better that he was laughing and not distraught, but the question remained.

"They weren't there," Sabine explained, with a fond sidelong glance to Tom. "We went up with them to try to do something, or convince someone. They'd already left, but—"

"My daughter's a genius," Tom managed between laughs.

"The townspeople heard one wail and ran. Turns out Marinette had strung some armor up. When the wind blew through it, it sounded like some sort of moan, and it made the townspeople think the tower was cursed."

Jagged blinked at Sabine, then at Tom, who was still laughing. Sabine just shrugged, smiling a little, and finally Jagged let out a whooping laugh.

"That's my little baker's girl!" He nudged Tom's shoulder good-naturedly and they fell into laughing together. When they finally stopped, Jagged had to wipe some tears from his eyes. "I can definitely work with that," he said, grinning. Sabine and Tom exchanged a nervous, knowing look.

"No enchanted bogs, Jagged."

"I would never—that was—" Jagged spluttered indignantly. "That was one time!"

"Once was enough, thank you," Sabine said curtly. He rolled his eyes at her and pulled out his mandolin to pluck a few lines.

"Just because that mayor's daughter fell into it doesn't mean—"

Sabine silenced him with a look. He couldn't help grinning, though, as he nodded and clamped his lips shut.

Later, when he made his way up to the tower, he realized what Sabine and Tom had been talking about. The air was filled with unearthly wails and moans that sounded like the dead had been raised, along with the tell-tale clink of empty armor against the trees. Through the greenery, he spotted one of Marinette's rabbit traps holding up a cuirass and he had to smile. Tom was right. Genius.

Jagged rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as he decided how best to enhance Marinette's plan. A few simple rune traps would add to the effect. Nothing big, just some eerie mist, maybe a spectral form here or there… When they were stepped on they would activate and the whole thing would work like a "keep out" sign for suspicious villagers.

When he'd finished the perimeter, he stood back to admire his work, then turned his attention to the tower. Luka would've left a note, he was sure of it, explaining things. That's the way the kid was. He liked to have things buttoned up and tidied away. He would've said goodbye.

When he did climb the tower, he found the small blue flower that Luka had left, preserved with a little bit of magic Jagged had taught him and kept in place by a stone. When he opened the note, it was blank except for the words, "Thanks for everything."

But, thanks to the preserved flower, Jagged knew exactly what to do to find his real message.

He crumbled the flower and blew the resulting powder into the paper. The residual magic stuck to the encoded words and shimmered a glittery blue in the fading afternoon light.

Jagged, it read, we're headed west into the forest. I'll leave a trail for you so you can come visit wherever we end up.

You've probably already helped Marinette with her idea. If I can ask one more thing of you, there's a trapdoor hidden in the floor in the back of this room. I'm not as skilled in magic as you are, so I couldn't protect the door with anything but a simple lock charm. I know you'll come up with something better.

No enchanted bogs.

Jagged rolled his eyes. Seriously it was one time! Why was everyone so focused on the one time he tried a new spell and turned the entire town into an eternal bog. It wasn't even eternal—the whole thing only lasted a month or so, although, well, the smell did linger a while longer.

He looked around and found the door Luka had mentioned. While it would be hard to find for anyone who wasn't looking, he understood why Luka would want it protected. Those books of his were his life while he'd been here. He looked back to the note and there were only two lines left.

Until I see you again, Luka.

P.S. Don't worry, I'll take care of her.

Jagged smiled as the last line thrummed with a magic Luka probably hadn't intended. He really had to teach that boy about the way love and magic so often coincided.

Although he had a feeling that Luka was starting to discover that for himself.

***

"Dragon?" the merchant asked, rubbing his chin in thought. "No, none of those in these parts. Heard tell of one the next village over, though. 'Round a tower. King's offered some gold for its head if memory serves."

Marinette offered him a tight-lipped smile in return as she paid, conscious of Luka's tense energy beside her.

She turned, handed him the gloves, and pulled at his shirt to prompt him to walk away. He followed, albeit stiffly.

"Luka, I told you already, no one knows it's you they're talking about."

"Doesn't make it any easier," he grumbled back. But he glanced down at his forearms that were still covered in scales despite their stones and tugged the leather gloves on anyway. "Besides, I doubt anyone around here will know where to find Jules. We keep to ourselves, really, and if it hadn't been for my incident I doubt anyone would've even known dragons were still out there."

When he held up his hands to show her what the gloves looked like on him, she glanced over them in approval, then frowned in thought and reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

"Nothing we can do about these, I guess."

"Or the teeth," he added, smirking for effect.

“Or the teeth,” she agreed fondly. “I guess just don’t… smile at anyone for now.”

A dry chuckle slid out from between his clenched teeth as his eyes darted around the square they were in, on guard and suspicious, taking note of the people still around them. "Not a problem, love."

She tipped up and kissed the edge of his jaw, which surprised him enough to jar him out of his rigid paranoia and turn that soft look on her. For good measure, she brushed his hair out of his eyes again, more to trail her fingers along his cheeks and down the sides of his neck than because she wanted to see the bright blue of his eyes match the blue of the stone at his neck.

Something ignited in his gaze as he looked at her and she blushed as she pulled her hands away. She'd never felt in danger with Luka before, but that look was definitely dangerous.

"Come on," she muttered, lacing her fingers through his and tugging him along. "There are still some people we can ask, and maybe we can find a place to stay tonight."

***

Juleka startled to attention as footsteps resounded in the empty space of the cave she'd hunkered down in for the time being. It wasn't as cozy as other places, but there was a village nearby that was too close for comfort and she preferred to keep her distance. Stay invisible. Stay alive. That'd been her saving grace for as long as she'd been on her own.

Arguably, she was young for a dragon to be by herself, but without Luka to smooth the waters between them, Juleka and her mother were… inflammatory.

She thought she'd done well enough, but the human stumbling into her cave proved her very wrong. The tiny thing looked up with bleary blue eyes under a fringe of bright blonde hair and gave Juleka a wobbly smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice weak, "I just… I'm so tired… I need to…" She didn't even finish the sentence before her knees gave out from under her and, without thinking, Juleka darted towards her to catch her with an armored claw. The sprite of a human gave her a thankful little smile, snuggled into her scales, and promptly fell asleep.

Juleka lowered her head to check that the human was still breathing, careful not to transfer her fire. Luka's mistake had been drilled into her head and she knew—she knew—that if a dragon shared their fire they shared their life. It wasn't worth it, her mother had said, giving up the freedom of the skies for anyone or anything.

Not that Juleka wanted to. Looking at the tiny, helpless thing in her arms that she could easily swipe aside without another thought—protect herself and protect her secret—she couldn't see why a dragon would ever bother with them. If it weren't for Luka's accident, she knew he wouldn't have chosen a human.

Still, she had to admit, the way the blonde's eyelashes fluttered in her sleep was… maybe a little cute.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #jagged stone #sorcerer!jagged #tom and sabine Dupain-Cheng #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #dragon!luka #juleka couffaine #dragon!juleka #rose lavillant #LBSC Exchange 2021 #fic title: playing with fire

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