Counting Ripples

So what I need you to do is this. Send me an ask.

Character (or pairing), a short blurb ("Adrien confronts Nathalie about the lies his father told him" sort of thing and send it to me!

Luka has his songbook on his head and Adrien sprawled across his lap, fingers tangled in his shirt and pressing against his hip.

Adrien has a tendency of burrowing into his partners like they're the only thing keeping him from falling apart the moment he falls asleep - it's the only time he's unguarded.

Wanton, sure. He's a greedy little thing as seen by Luka's undone trousers and mussed look.

But unguarded? Never. Except when he’s too exhausted to stay awake.

Luka lowers the book, cheeks flushing like they haven't been lovers and roommates for almost three years. "You're the only one here without a Miraculous." He complains in a soft voice.

"I know every door and floorboard." He jokes softly, lowering his bag. "When did he get home?"

"Six. He was almost manic, made too much oatmeal. Then he put too much sugar in it and I thought he would crawl out of his own skin. Plagg was almost gray with exhaustion."

Often. Too often. He hates Gabriel Agreste with a fire that rarely cools, but he keeps it carefully banked inside him. The man's sins are many, and his judgements will come.

Jalil lifts his legs carefully, and Adrien half stirs, mumbles something, and turns his face into Luka's stomach. "Do you think we could get him to bed?"

"You could." Luka says wistfully, voice full of doubt.

"He's asleep on you." But Jalil slides his arms carefully under Adrien's body, lifting him carefully to his arms.

At twenty-three, Adrien is lanky. But despite the hard edges of muscle under his skin, he is too thin and too light.

Luka gets up and closes the book, tucking it under his arm and lifting Plagg and Sass into a gentle one handed grip.

Jalil is an outsider, a hostage rather than a prisoner. But what he has to share he gives them.

As much as their masters will allow. Adrien and Luka are both held on leashes, one of spirit and one of heart.

These days, he wonders if Adrien is as much a tether for Luka as his sister is.

He wonders if he is becoming another wall of their cage as well.

Long bodied or not, Adrien's eyes flutter open and his lips curl into a catlike grin, arms lifting to wrap around his neck. "You're back."

"I am back." Jalil agrees. "And I have thought of nothing more fondly than sleeping in my own bed for six weeks, my moonlight, will you indulge us?"

It is easier for Adrien to yield to his own comfort of he thinks he is providing for someone else.

Adrien's sleepy smile warms, and he nestles against his shoulder. "Of course."

Luka stops in the kitchen, and the bathroom, while Jalil focuses on stripping himself and Adrien and getting to the bed.

Adrien is asleep by the time Luka returns, bottles of water under his arm and a tray of snacks - mostly for the Kwami if they wake up.

"I could go to my room, if you want time alone with him?" Luka days quietly, arranging things on the side table.

"I said we." Jalil murmers, setting his glasses on the bedside table and crossing the room to him. "We are in this together, starlight." He tucks a fading strand of hair behind his ear, leans to kiss him.

Luka is quiet under his touch, reserved, but presses his hands to his chest. "I just don't want to intrude."

"This is your home. You aren't a consolation prize." He presses a kiss to his forehead, and gently eases him out of his clothes. "Or an intruder. We both want you here."

Curse Jagged Stone. For making Luka feel like a guest in his own life, curse Gabriel Agreste for making Adrien feel like a puppet in a play.

And curse him, he supposed, for loving them both. But he refuses to stop.

In this stupid situation, of the choices available to him he will choose this every time.

Luka's hands slide down his waist, and Jalil smiles as he returns to kissing him properly, again and again.

Adrien is asleep in his bed, curled up on his side with his hands up near his face.

Ray is hungover enough that he doesn't have the resistance to the fact that Adrien Agreste is adorable.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be a one night stand. But now Adrien has been here for a week, and the apartment he bought with daddy's money doesn't seem to be the thing he's staying for.

Double fuck.

Ray doesn't belive in relationships. It's like the one rule he keeps for himself. Getting close to Adrien had been something his father wanted - and he had done it. Done it well. Adrien had been looking for something easy and Ray hated complicated things.

Perfect. Plus, it's not like sleeping with Adrien Agreste is hard. He's gorgeous and he loves getting fucked.

The rule is just to keep feelings out of it. Keep it simple, keep it easy.

There's a soft pattern of moles on his shoulder that look at bit like stars.

No. Bad. He slaps his own face lightly. No strings. No feelings. Just a international super model who crashes at his place on the regular.

Keep it real, keep it casual.

Adrien stirs and gives him a sleepy smile, rolling towards him.

And yeah, shit. That makes his heart do an odd little fluttery thing in his chest.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and resists the urges to say something really silly.

Adrien smiles and lifts his hand to cup his face. "Sleep ok?" And hell, he sounds like he really cares about the answer.

"Dreamed of stars." He mumbles clumsily. "And woke up next to one."

Adrien gasps, and then laughs in delight and pulls him down into a kiss that definitely feels like more than just crashing at his apartment.

"Adrien learns the truth and Plagg and him have a honest conversation?" (I think Plagg couldn't tell him earlier because of Ladybug related magic?)

I hope I did this right. But you're a cool writer and I hope you have a good day!

Adrien has known, factually, from Fu's instructions mostly that the Kwami can be controlled by the people who have their Miraculous.

It's just - well. He thought of it as something Hawkmoth did. To force the kwami to do evil. Nooroo, and Duusu. And then the rest.

Plagg's breathing is a soft metronome to his own, his tiny body sprawled near his ear they're both laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The truth feels hard and heavy in his chest, and he's still learning to breathe around it. "What was he like as a holder?"

"Thankfully brief, but a fucking jerk." Plagg snorts softly, tail flicking. "He grabbed me from Pigtails. It was really fast."

"I feel like I knew. Somehow." Adrien says softly, turning his head to look at him.

"That's Tikki's gift. But he was controlling you too, so you might have figured him out and been put back in your room."

"Who asks anymore, right?"

Plagg snorts. "You and me both, kid."

Adrien laughs, though it isn't funny. "So. I'm a Sentimonster. Does that bother you?"

"Some of my best friends are concepts made from emotions. Why would it?" Plagg returns, rubbing against his cheek lazily.

"I'm telling the others you called them friends."

"Traitor." Plagg laughs.

"Only for the little stuff." Adrien rubs his cheek against the Kwami.

Plagg purrs softly.

He feels weirdly calm, his entire body heavy and relaxed except the knot in his chest. "Should I talk to her?"

"When you're ready, yeah."

Prompt- he finally gets to snap. He deserves it. Does he have anyone left that isn't lying to him?

It hit him all at once, like the door shutting triggered the thoughts in his head.

The cold that seeps over him is breath taking, in that he loses his breath entirely in a rush, sightless eyes staring at nothing in his dark, half changed room.

His hands are pressed against the side of the foosball table without him realizing he's moved- he stares down at it, heart racing like he's run across the entire city, blood rushing through his ears like he's been swallowed by an ocean of lies.

He'd been locked in that room to keep him out of the way, and his father had given him this. Locked him in as an Akuma drove him mad.

The sound that escapes him is more gutteral than human, not a scream, not quite.

The foosball table flips with a satisfying crash against the floor, bits of plastic flying in every direction as it breaks.

Something hits his cheek - he barely feels it. He's moving already, to the next toy that was given to keep him controlled.

A gilded cage for a canary with clipper wings. A princess in a tower so no one could see her.

He hooks his fingers under the air hockey table and throws it against the windows as hard as he can.

The glass cracks, but doesn't shatter. He has to kick the leg to get it free, but his makeshift club surrounds him in a rain of glass shards.

His face is wet.

He might be crying. He doesn't care.

Again and again, until the curtains are tangled and the air from outside rushes in.

Someone is crouched on the wall.

Félix. He knows it. He bares his teeth at his cousin and the other comes no closer.

He rips things off the walls, posters shredded, lights broken. He smashes fixtures and destroys everything.

Until nothing is left but ruin. Until nothing except for a few books are left whole in the room.

His hands are wet, his club dropping from his fingers as the rage drips out of him.

"Adrien." Félix drops the transformation, walking gingerly across broken glass.

"I don't want to hear it." He snarls.

"Then I won't speak. But let's clean you up." The hand that grips his arm is gentle, and he finds he doesn't have the energy to fight as he is led to the bathroom.

Félix is quiet as he takes the first aid kit down, and doesn't scold as he carefully takes bits of glass and splinters out of his hands.

Adrien makes no sound at the bite of the aneceptic, staring at his cousin.

The cold is there, still.

He flinches back from a hand coming to his face, and Félix breathes out, brief, pained, but says nothing as he gently washes blood away and applies a plaster.

It all feels fragile.

"I don't want to stay here." He says thinly.

"Then don't. Mum will make us tea. "

"She got Akumatized for me." He whispers dully. "Because she didn't want to lie."

"She did."