itsjusbleh

[itsjusbleh]

Beneath the surface

Chat Noir x reader

Chapter one — Acrophobia

Moving to Paris is a fresh, fresh beginning for you. Maybe it was a too big of a leap, but you’re excited, and you’re young, so why not? Though you can’t ignore the tender ache in your stomach. Gotta love anxiety.

It’s only when you step through the inside doors that you realise you have left your damn water bottle behind at your apartment. But then the bell rings, and immediately there’s a hundred footsteps, talking and yelling and someone actually barges into you. You can’t tell who it was anyway because they get lost in the sea of moving people. Scrambling for your campus map, you try and find your class. B5?

Finally finding the room, you open the door with an exasperated energy. But upon seeing the space, you realise that the class is not cinematography. At all.

A naked muscular man sits in the front of the room, posing on a stool as the student artists paint a portrait. Your eyes spring open and you can feel people start to look at you. You go to leave, stepping backwards. “Shit— sorry! I’m in the wrong class—“

You bump into a table filled with clay figures, fumbling a bunch of apologies as you knock one over and it smashes on the ground. What’s even worse is that people begin laughing as your skin flushes warm. You fall to the ground and scramble at the broken pieces.

”Hey—“

At the sudden close proximity of a voice, your head snaps up. A clean hit to the owner of the voice’s nose. A groan comes from above you as you whip your attention to the person.

His hand clutches at his face as you blabber, “I am so so sorry, oh my god…”

”It’s okay, it’s okay,” he pinches his nose, eyes squinted. “You dropped this,” he extends your book towards you with his free hand.

You tuck your hair out of your face and when you get a proper look at him, you swallow dryly. It’s when his green eyes finally meet yours, and you take your book with quick fingers.

He offers you a little smile, but it falters when he looks to the smashed pot on the ground.

You tuck your book tightly into your chest. “Was that yours?” You ask softly, face contorted in shame.

“Yes,” he slowly says, lolling those green eyes back to yours, and you catch the smallest twitch of them widening. “It’s… fine, though.”

Oddly enough, there’s a second of silence before the professor echoes a loud ‘ahem’. You scramble out of the class, offering another clumsy sorry as you leave, unknowingly having the same pair of green eyes following you as you do.

Once you’re finally in cinematography, a nice girl with tan skin and dark red hair chats to you as she polishes her glasses. She says her name’s Alya and it’s hard because you’re trying to listen to the teacher, especially because he was a bit annoyed at your lateness but she’s blabbering in your ear. You don’t have the heart to try and tell her to stop especially because you’re new and well, alone. You need to make friends.

”I was supposed to be taking audio and film instead of this class, but apparently, this branches more opportunity,” she uses quote fingers, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I can thank my boyfriend for that—“

She gets hushed by the teacher, but after five seconds she slowly turns her head back to you, as if expecting you to start talking.

“I’m taking a performing arts bachelor,” you whisper. “I’d like to be an actress… or something like that.”

“Oooh nice,” Alya wiggles her words, once again getting hushed by the teacher.

After two full, long classes, you head out into the main courtyard like most of the students at the university. Some are on phones, some are in animated conversation. You see an oak tree at the far end of the courtyard, with a wide trunk and plenty of shade. You can’t see anyone nearby, so you make your way over, and you plan to sit on the grass against the tree when you feel someone clutch your shoulder.

”Girl, where do you think you’re going?” Ayla’s voice seeps into your ears, her glossed lips stretched in a smile. You open your mouth to reply but she beats you to it, pulling your shoulder to walk with her. “Come meet my best frieeend, oh my god, you’ll love Marinette, she’s amazing.”

You follow her with a nod, a pleasant wave of relief actually washing through you. She pulls you to a table under a tree’s shade. Marinette has black hair with a tinge of blue hue that just curls around the mid of her neck, kind blue eyes and you can just tell she’s a warm soul. She waves, offering a hello.

She tells you she’s studying in fashion design, and as you tell her your bachelor, she coos. “Performing arts? Are you looking to book any roles in Paris? We have some opportunities here, theatre wise— oh, and advertisements, films…”

“I would love that, I just… need to see if I’m actress material, I guess. I know how difficult it is to get into the acting industry, and I’m taking some extra classes with a studio every week, so…”

”Hey, I know a guy that can hook you up with some opportunities,” Alya grins, nudging Marinette with a smug look. “Adrien Agreste,” she lets the name roll of her tongue, smooth and knowing.

Marinette rolls her eyes at Alya, but she turns to you with a hopeful smile. “Actually, that is true. He’s done plenty of things like that.”

As they say this, you wonder who this said guy is. It’s obvious that they know him well, which is good in your case. You pick up a french fry and dip it in ketchup.

“Who’s that?” You munch on the fry, voice muffled a little by it.

”Uhh… oh, he’s over there,” Alya points behind you. You turn and see where she’s pointing, to a group of people standing around. “The one in the navy pullover.”

The one in the navy pullover. You look for the clothing, and once found, you rake your eyes up to the face to match. You almost choke on your french fry, a strangled sound coming from your throat as Alya pats your back immediately. That’s insane because that’s the guy that you socked in the nose. Not to mention, you broke his clay piece.

Shit. Yeah, that’s him. What a small world. You turn around slowly back to the girls, shrinking in on yourself.

“What?” Both girls say in tune, confused at your expression.

“This morning I mixed up my classes and I bumped into him and I smashed his clay piece,” you clutch at your forehead, embarrassed. They both ease into a laugh. Your mind reels at just the thought of the humiliating situation. They attempt to reassure you, and you smile at their pure friendliness, but it drowns out a little as you take another peak at him.

To your utter shock, you catch his gaze. He seems surprised too because his expression sets into a stunned one. He quickly adverts his eyes, regaining his attention on a friend. You screw your lips up, a tinge of confusion bubbling in your chest.

Your first day wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t a piece of cake either. The first bite into your freshly baked croissant has you drooling. The buttery, flaky layers of the pastry melt in your mouth, releasing a rich, buttery flavor that dances on your tongue. It’s a nice breeze through Paris, seeping against your cheeks and you’re thankful for the spare time you have.

Suddenly the ground shakes, and the salts and peppers on your cafe table fall to the ground with an eery smash. An earthquake? You never knew they were prone in Paris. But then you hear a maniacal laugh echo throughout the street. The rustle of chairs moving and shoes squeaking fills your ears, and looking around you see that people are running into hiding.

What is going on?

A fast blur of red and black whips past, a powerful feminine voice yelling something out. You’re frozen in your chair, croissant now splattered along the pavement. You tilt to look at your treat now gone, a wave of grief rocking you.

Another suited figure runs by you. He wears a black suit, golden blond hair and shifting cat ears. He tosses a shout, “You should be inside! It’s too danger—rooooouuussss…” his head turns as he looks at you, sharp, emerald eyes giving you a one-down as his run slows to a stop, “hello.”

You look around quickly, seeing if he’s talking to anyone else but there’s no one else. Anywhere. “Hi,” you say, a tone of a question as you feel a shudder slip down your back at the way his eyes gobble you up. There’s a sinister swing of his hips as he walks toward you, a challenging stare that you can’t replicate.

“Ma chérie, you can’t be out here,” he tsks. With him this close, you can really look at him. His soft blond hair running wild at his neck, defined muscles cut against leather, the little dimple in his cheek from his wicked grin. What a being. “There’s a possibility you can get caught in the crossfire, and I would hate to see this pretty face get hurt.”

You nod gently, spacing out a little.

A truck gets thrown across the street in the background. His flirty demeanour flattens as he blinks, his whacky grin slipping. “Are you in shock?”

You shrug. You hear him mumble something under his breath, maybe along the lines of ‘shit’ and ‘poor thing’ but you can’t really tell from the loud crashing and banging noises going on around you. He taps his foot a little, cat ears flicking like he’s thinking.

“Chat Noir!” The same female voice from before snaps, and you watch the way his ears flatten, an exasperated groan escaping his lips.

”I’ll come back for you, ma chérie, just—“

Another loud shout, and he suddenly clutches you by the arm.

“Be a good girl and go into the cafe, come on,” his voice is tender and guiding, leading you through the cafe doors and practically carrying you there. “There we are, that’s it, puurfect.”

The way he mutters that last word against your ear makes you shiver, and all you can do is nod to him and his words. He sits you down on one of the couches, giving your arm one last graze before zooming out into the Parisian streets. You aren’t in shock. Are you? You’re just confused. As fuck.

You don’t know how long it’s been until there’s a flash of pinkish white that blinds you and you cover your face with an arm. Blinking away the shine, there’s an evident clearing of the sky, and herds of civilians creep out from their hidings. You decide to stay in the cafe for a while, grabbing for your phone as something comes up on your web, Ladyblog News.

Superheroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir. How have you never ever heard of this? You feel stupid, ridiculously stupid. Making your way out of the cafe and heading to your apartment, you duck into an alleyway shortcut.

”Why such a rush? I said I’d come back for you.”

The sudden noise makes you swish around, coming into contact with a leathered arm. Thick, leathered arm. The feline heroine has that arm leaned against the alleyway’s brick wall, looking you down like a predator. This guy is big on dramatic effect.

“I’ve just moved to Paris, and this… this is all very new to me,” you explain, wondering why it was difficult to keep eye contact.

“Oh, chèrie, I know…” he draws out, letting his eyes roll down your figure. “I might need to go home with you.”

His words send your mind in a frenzy, it makes your throat grow tingly. “Why?”

”For safety measures, of course. Why else?” He tilts his head at you as if it were obvious, the bell on his suit dinging lightly. That implication was prominent and you knew it, he was sly. “Your legs feel okay?”

”They feel fine,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You have to admit, they’re a bit jittery from before. You duck out from the alleyway and he follows.

“Mmm, I’m not sure I believe that,” he reaches behind himself to grab something, and when it comes into view it looks like a metal bar. He slides an arm around your waist. “You afraid of heights?”

You raise an eyebrow at his question, confusion once again filling you as he grabs your arm to wrap it around his neck. “…No.”

There’s a glint of a grin on his devilish lips. “And which one’s your building?”

You point in the direction to the blue apartment building in the distance. “That one,” you respond.

Without warning, you’re lifted up into the air. You screech, arms flying out and attaching to him magnetically. You can hear a low chuckle from him as your heart pounds against your ribcage. You don’t dare to peek out from his chest, eyes sealed shut as wind snips through the gaps of your hair.

“Which one?” Chat Noir asks, giving you a little nudge.

”Seventh floor, farthest left,” you rush, gripping him as if your life depended on it. There’s a thud and a commotion, and when he gently sets you down, it takes you a second to detach from him.

You immediately go to land a solid punch into his shoulder, a hiss like noise screeching out of him.

“Heeeey…” he pouts, to which you jab a finger at his chest.

“You should’ve warned me!” You scold harshly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His tongue runs along his smirking bottom lip, a glimpse of his white canines catching your eye. You only groan frustratedly, folding your arms. “Your balcony has a beautiful view,” Chat Noir praises.

You sigh. “I know, you can see the Eiffel from here and I didn’t even pay extra—“

”I wasn’t talking about the landscape,” he mutters. You turn to see his sneaky green eyes locked on you, seemingly proud at his flirtatious quip. Your arms tense in your hold, unable to play it cool as you let a smile creep onto your face. You hear a quiet beeping sound and you catch the way his eyebrows stitch down as he looks at his ring finger.

“What’s wrong?” You utter, unfolding your arms.

“I have to leave,” Chat Noir grunts, annoyance twinged in his voice. He takes your hand in his, giving it a swift kiss in apology. “Selfishly, I beg of you to go into shock more.”

You actually giggle at his silly statement, going to take your hand back but his grip doesn’t falter. His slimmed, feline pupils dilate with your sound.

“What’s your name?” He asks gently, smoothing his gloved thumb over your knuckle. You say it without a thought, quiet enough that it could be mistaken for another gust of Paris’s wind. He leans back towards the bars of your balcony with a smirk, and with one last look that he steals, he jumps off your balcony.

[itsjusbleh]

sam zablowski x reader oneshot

a/n: GRRSRRSARTA sam is so under appreciated and his actor is just… ughhhhh anyways the time is set when reader and sam are juniors in highschool.

It was first day for eleventh grade and Sam felt muggy. He attempted to walk into school with one bag strap off his shoulder but ended up aggressively putting it on his shoulder because it was just too damn uncomfortable and awkward. Walking alongside Gabe and almost tripping on the stairs to the entrance, his mind was in a tired blur. Summer break went way too fast and he felt like he just couldn’t keep up.

Barging past people, he hooked a hand around Gabe’s shoulder to avoid losing him in the ocean of teenagers.

“Ouch, my nipple,” Gabe seethed after getting barged by a random passing through. Sam suppressed a laugh from spilling out as he grinned at him.

Losing the traffic finally, they reached Sam’s locker and Sam tossed his bag onto the floor with an exaggerated groan. Gabe resumed his gamblings as he leaned against the other lockers. Sam turned his head to see Anna and Maya chatting away, smiles cheesy and wide. His stomach churned a little. Things were always a bit weird with Maya after they had stopped going out a year ago.

“Back onto my theory that Darth Vader was actually dead all along. When Vader says to…” Gabe’s words went through deaf ears as he watched the two girls break into a funny dance splitting apart slightly and revealing another girl in the middle of them doing the same thing.

His chest tightened and his heart did a little spin. With a dry mouth, he muttered, “Who’s that?”

“Huh?” Gabe says, following Sam’s eyesight. “I dunno.”

She was really pretty. He’d never seen her before, ever. Her smile was capturing and her style was dope. He sucks in a tight breath.

“She must be pretty weird if she’s talking with Maya and Anna,” Gabe adds with a scoff.

“Yeah,” Sam looks away, pushing down his thoughts with a forced laugh.

*

Moving schools was hard for you. Like any other person, it’s different and new, something that humans don’t like at most times. You parked at your locker with awkward insecurity and were lucky enough to have a blond girl named Anna’s locker next to you, with her friend Maya talking to her.

After exchanging names, Maya tilted her head at you. “You’re new, right, because.. I’ve never seen you around, right, Anna?” She looks to the blonde, to which she nods in response, shifting a piece of hair from her face.

“Yeah, no, I haven’t seen you around…”

“I just moved. I used to live two hours away,” you say, looking down at Maya’s blue shirt and seeing Bratz printed on it. “You like Bratz?”

“Yeah,” she drags out, smiling as she exchanges excited looks with Anna. “The intro song is like, so catchy cause it goes like…”

Both her and Anna start moving their bodies in a little dance, going, “Ooooh, Bratz.”

You giggle, mumbling the song too and moving your shoulders like a wave. You all burst into laughter, backs hunching over. First friends, maybe you aren’t gonna do so bad.

Your first class was history, and you piled yourself into a chair blindly, a bit anxious to start your first lesson at your new school. About forty minutes into the class, your pencil’s led had gone flat. Rummaging through your pencil case, you frown to see no sharpener in there. You bite your lip, turning your head to see a brunette boy.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and his eyes flicker to you. Gosh, they were such an intense colour of brown, it actually took you aback. “Um, do you have a sharpener I could borrow. Please?”

He stares at you for a second, but he snaps out of it, muttering, “Yeah, let me just.. grab it for you.”

When he hands the sharpener to you, your fingers graze and while your sharpen your pencil, you can feel his eyes at your shoes.

“I like your shoes.”

Looking down at your converses, you smile. “Thanks, my mum got them for me last Christmas.”

When you look up, he’s staring at you again. His head turns away really quick and he looks to something, squinting his eyes a little.

Looking back at your book, your nose crinkles. He’s a bit weird.

“I’m Sam, by the way.”

You look at him again to see he’s not even looking at you but at the board. You say your name as well, turning your attention to the teacher. For the rest of the lesson, you strangely had a fluttery feeling inside of you.

A few weeks later, you’re settling in more than you thought you’d be. Anna and Maya were really good friends to you, and you were understanding your classes pretty well.

On a Friday, you had history last, and you were paired up with Sam for your assignment. There was a specific sort of tension between the two of you. Not awkward, just.. odd. Odd tension.

“So my house?” Sam asks while the class packs up, flipping his book in his hands.

“What was that?”

“Do you wanna come to my house. For the assignment, I mean. We’ll get some done this afternoon, maybe. If you want to,” he explains.

The bell rings. “Um, sure. I’ll just go quickly ask my mum,” you reply with a smile.

“Cool,” Sam points a finger gun at you, but he retracts it within an instant. “Fuck, that was so bad.”

You break out into a laugh, walking out the classroom doors with him. “I just cringed, like, so bad.”

When you got to his house, you knocked at the door and his mom opened it. She was really nice and your nerves eased at the homely welcome. She led you up to Sam’s room, and that’s when the nerves came rolling back in.

“Now, I’m leaving the door open,” his mum scolds in a joking manner, and your skin burns with the embarrassment of the implication behind it.

“Mom, oh my god—“ Sam yelps, slapping a hand to his forehead in stress. She leaves with a few giggles, and he looks to you with a sympathy felt expression. “Sorry about that, she’s so…”

“No, no, it’s okay. She’s nice,” you wave your hands. Your eyes skim around his room, head turning. “Your room’s cool.”

“Thanks,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair a little. His legs spread out slightly, and the motion makes you look somewhere else. “So,” he pats his thighs. “The assignment. You can come sit on my bed if you want.”

You have to fight the butterflies spawning immediately in your stomach. You were so pathetic that sitting on Sam’s bed was excruciatingly extreme for you. You awkwardly sit on his bed near him, flipping open the assignment sheets and taking out a pencil from your case.

About thirty minutes pass by of work when Sam gets up from the chair and stretches, groaning a bit. He moves to sit on the bed as well, even more closer to you as he leans up against the headboard with his legs in a pretzel.

It’s probably been a hour and a half and you’re tired. You keep on yawning and your eyes itch every two seconds. Your concentration disappears by the minute and you’re ready to head home for dinner and bed. Wanting to finish the last paragraph on the page, you turn to Sam. “Hey, how should we word the last sentence?”

He licks at his lips as he leans over to you and your sheet, looming over your shoulder. “Um…” As he thinks, you feel his breath fanning at your skin, making goosebumps arise. He smells of clean laundry and grass, stirring the mushy gather of butterflies in your belly. “Link it back up to the first sentence, so be like… yada-yada proves this accusation to be false due to what’s-his-name’s quote stated above.”

The air is still and it’s all quiet for what feels like for an eternity as he looks to your face. “Yeah, okay,” you quip, writing just what he had said.

What you don’t expect is for him to still be there once you’re done writing and you audibly suck in a breath when you turn to see him so close. He blinks a few times, and you catch the way his eyes drop a split second to your lips. Your heart begins to speed up, the tension now clear to you.

His head moves and he captures your lips in a kiss. You accept it as you let go of your breath, nimbly placing a hand on his knee to stabilise yourself. Breaking apart for a second, he kisses you again, this time with a tad more energy.

His hand comes up to hold your neck, as his tongue prods at the slit of your lips. You allow access to him, shyly allowing his tongue to slide along yours as his head tilts at an angle. You turn yourself more to him, and his other hand moves to grip at your hip, thumb drawing circles on your jeans.

You can feel your insides melt to a goop, can feel the tiny pulse beginning in the middle of your thighs. His lips are feathery and his mouth is warm, and you can feel your heartbeat now pounding against your ribcage.

You’re the one to let go, as your lungs feel like they’re going to burst. Or maybe it’s your heart, you don’t know.

There are his gorgeous brown eyes, staring so deep into you. “Sorry,” he mutters with a few puffs of ragged breath, and you could just melt right there.

“Why are you sorry?” You whisper back, unable to keep the unevenness of your breath at bay as well. He looks down for just a moment before he looks back up at you.

His shoulder lightly shrugs, “I dunno.”

You can’t help the way your lips swirl into a tiny grin, cheeks at a temperature of a burning oven. “You shouldn’t be.”

His eyes run around the map of your face, awe shun clear in them. “Then I’m not,” he states softly, smoothing his hand around your neck to support the back of it. He lets his fingers skim through your hair as he pulls you in for another kiss.

[itsjusbleh]

character.ai bot i’m roleplaying with: you look so sexy with that blue shirt on

me, wearing a blue shirt, and hasn’t typed one single thing about my appearance yet:

[itsjusbleh]

my babiessss :(