#PONTING AT THEM LOOK LOOK

[turrondeluxe]

im crying. sobbing even

[musicallad]

MLM Month- Day Nine

Look at the happy boyfriends!!! 🥺❤️

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[starmapz]

what are your hcs on wyk sukuna as a husband

cw ; based on what you know. f!reader. fluff! mentions of sex.

i definitely think wyk!sukuna would struggle with the idea of marriage. not because he doesn't love you or want to spend the rest of his life with you, he has no doubts about that- but because he's afraid. he never experienced the love of two married parents and he doubts his ability to provide for you, and he fears the idea of tying you down when he knows his life is a lot to handle. he fears it isn't what you want.

for that reason, it takes wyk!sukuna a long time to work up the courage to propose. when he finally does, he's beyond relieved that you say yes, overjoyed. he doesn't do grand gestures, he's not the type to make a big show of the proposal, but he does want it to be intimate, something memorable and special for you.

wyk!sukuna doesn't dress up often beyond slacks and a button-up, so seeing him in a full suit at the end of the aisle is just about the most jaw-dropping sight on the planet. his hair is freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, unable to stop fiddling with the sleeves of his suit. when he sees you, every fear fades away because nothing else matters anymore.

husband!wyk!sukuna is obsessed with you. he's not overly vocal about it, he's still the stoic and grumpy man you fell in love with, but it's clear if you're looking for the signs. no matter how quiet he is though, there's no greater pleasure than calling you his wife.

husband!wyk!sukuna is the type of man to show his love primarily through acts of service and physical touch. he's so accustomed to working himself to the bone that he's more than willing to do a few extra chores around the house if it means you don't have to. to him, it's still way less than what his schedule used to resemble, even if you complain that he never lets you help. you help him more than you could ever know, in other ways.

speaking of physical touch, husband!wyk!sukuna is touchy to an almost annoying degree. you're busy working? he'll come up behind you and massage your shoulders, but that quickly devolves into him trying to distract you to gain your attention. cooking something in the kitchen? there's a good chance he's there behind you, his lips on your neck and hands on your hips.

husband!wyk!sukuna has a high sex drive for sure, but the truth is that he just enjoys being the apple of your eye. he enjoys the intimate little pieces of love found within quiet moments watching movies with you held tightly against him. he's at his happiest when you give his foot a gentle nudge under the table at dinner, for no other reason than to shoot him your gorgeous smile.

husband!wyk!sukuna doesn't like to give you flowers. not because he doesn't value the thought behind it, but more because he doesn't like the idea of giving you something with an expiry date. his love for you will never die so why should he give you a gift that will? you're worth more to him than that, so he's more likely to give you a whole plant.

he can't get you too many plants though, because husband!wyk!sukuna wants to make up for all the experiences he missed out on over the years, and travel is absolutely one of them. he loves history and art and wants to visit all the places his dad mentioned when he was younger, but not without you there with him.

outwardly, sukuna comes across fairly cold, but you swear husband!wyk!sukuna melts when you visit paris and ask to do each and every romantic activity. he wants to visit the catacombs and the louvre, but you? you want to write your names on a lock at the pont des arts. he scowls the whole time, but only because if he doesn't, he'll be a big ol' mushy mess.

your house is filled with photos that husband!wyk!sukuna sneaks while you're traveling, though his favorite was taken beneath a waterfall. you caught him off-guard, his attention on the flowing water with his arms around your middle while you grin at the camera. it sits on his desk at work as well.

you're husband!wyk!sukuna's muse. he never stops drawing and sketching, he adores doing landscape pieces based on places he's been and photos he's taken, but you're a part of all of them, whether you're in the original photo or not.

anyone who meets you after college is caught by surprise when you introduce them to husband!wyk!sukuna. he's snide and cold-shouldered, while you're sweet and open. they don't know the bond you share, and honestly, you're more than okay with that. your husband prefers to keep the details of your life between you, anyway. his life is something he shares only with those he's closest to.

still, your new friends begin to warm up to husband!wyk!sukuna through his eye rolls and snarky comments when they get a glimpse of the person he is around you. all it takes for you to get his attention is a simple nudge and he's all yours. anything you need, he's at your service, even if he's teasing you or making a big deal out of it. it's all just a show, when it comes to you.

oh, and those who are privy to the fact he took care of his brothers? husband!wyk!sukuna becomes the go-to babysitter for them. he doesn't mind, either. he likes the opportunity to give his and your friends a break to go out, because he gets it. and although it might not have been the greatest point in his life, sometimes he misses when his brothers were younger and their biggest worries were who would get the last chicken strip. he may not want kids of his own, feeling as though he already has them in a sense, but he likes being an uncle of sorts to your friends' kids. plus, he's a great target for nerf darts. and when they get older? he's the cool uncle who takes them to paintball and horror nights at the local fair.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a dry texter, he's a man of few words both when chatting and texting, so it makes it that much funnier when he sends you a photo out of the blue, no caption. just a photo of a plush rabbit. why? "it's you," he texts back. this is an oddly common occurrence. anything that looks remotely cute and tiny to him, that's you. and when you're 6'11" and pure muscle, most things are small and cute.

husband!wyk!sukuna's prized possessions are the woven bracelets from his brothers and his wedding ring. As the years go by, the bracelets eventually tear and fall off, but Sukuna still keeps them. In fact, many years later, you notice there's a new ring that sits on his right middle finger, and upon closer inspection you find that the torn bracelets have been turned into a ring. nothing means more to him than family.

husband!wyk!sukuna knows he's a lot to handle, and he knows his temper is the biggest thing he needs to work on. he gets snippy easily, but he'll also own up to his mistakes before it gets anywhere. he's lost you once, he's learned his lesson. no amount of frustration is worth losing you.

your happiness is husband!wyk!sukuna's priority. he may be dense as hell when it comes to little signals (he begs you to just spell things out for him), but he's in tune with your discomfort and won't take it lightly. you're out with friends and your social battery runs out? expect his voice in your ear, telling you he's ready to go. he'll always present it to the group you're out with like it's him that wants to go as well, never forcing you to be the center of attention. he knows you wouldn't like that.

husband!wyk!sukuna tucks you so tightly to his chest while you sleep that you can't even get up to use the washroom in the middle of the night. and don't think about waking him up either, he gets so grumpy the moment he's half-awake and thinks you're trying to get away from him. and in case you're wondering, yes, summers are hell. you do need to get a/c.

husband!wyk!sukuna longs for nothing more than simplicity in life. nothing helps him wind down from a long day more than laying his head on your chest while you read, but he certainly won't turn you down either if you run your hand through his hair. he enjoys the silence, and finds joy in doing absolutely nothing, in particular if you're there with him. the greatest treasure for someone who once carried the weight of the world on his shoulders is doing nothing with the person he loves most.

husband!wyk!sukuna makes sure you know how much he loves you. he writes it on your skin in kisses and hickeys. he knows he isn't always the best with emotions, or showing his love, and he particularly knows his eloquence dissolves when it comes to words. sex with you isn't just about pleasure for him. it's the one moment where he feels like he knows what he's doing and can genuinely please you. maybe it's crass, but it lets him show you his love for you how he knows best, physically.

husband!wyk!sukuna is extremely secure with you. he trusts you to the ends of the earth, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like the look of hickeys on your skin. the sly bastard loves to show them off too. you've covered them in makeup? nope. he'll whisk you away for a makeout session and make a point of smudging the makeup, much to your dismay. yes, even at work. to him, it's about the way his love is written in the language that husband!wyk!sukuna knows best.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a quiet lover. You need to read between the lines at times to find the signs, but they're always there and he'll never let a day go by without showing you, even if he rarely uses words.

writing & format © starmapz. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[wlwsoccerfics]

Sick Days(MapiXIngridXLeónReader)

Warning: Google translate used , Asthma attack

Summary: your sister & Ingrid want you to rest but you are really stubborn.

"¡estoy bien!(I am fine)!" You claimed. Even though it was obvious you weren't. In fact you were dangerously close to triggering an Asthma attack. Which was obviously not good at all.

¡No, no estás bien!(No you aren't okay!)" Mapi answered. Looking at you. You were quite stubborn so even though you had the exact same conversation an hour ago when Mapi woke you up for practice and realized how sick you actually were. Yesterday you had a little sniffle. Now you had a bad cough and could barely breath. You actually were wheezing every now and then.

Your sister wasn't the only one that voiced her concern though. No Ingrid did as well.

"y/n, you need to take some days off and rest. Practice could make things worse!" Ingrid let you know.

"No quiero defraudar al equipo.(i don't want to let the Team down.)" You explained.

"¡Tu práctica faltante no los decepcionará!(you missing practice won't disappoint them!)" Mapi answered. Your sister didn't like this one bit. She has seen you have Asthma attacks when you were younger & she knew how bad those were. And how bad they could be even now. When you catch a cold or something like that.

"Si te esfuerzas demasiado, eso los afectará.(you pushing yourself too hard , is gonna affect them though.)" She also added. Ingrid nodded her head in agreement.

"Sólo quiero ver la práctica al menos.(i just want to watch practice at least.)" You told them. They weren't too Happy about that either because you actually belonged in bed but that way they at least could keep an eye on you.

"Bien, pero ponte ropa de abrigo.(fine, but put on some warm clothes.)" Mapi replied.

"and bring a blanket!" Ingrid said.

"bueno.(Okay)" You wheezed out. Mapi and Ingrid glanced at one another. Really regretting to agreeing with letting you Go to practice. Even if it was just to watch. You are 16 years old and have been living with them since you joined Barca a few months back.

You almost fell asleep in the car, but fought against it. You wore a thick Jacket, a Beanie and a scarf. When you walked into the lockerroom. Well walked wasn't actually the most accurate word to describe it. You dragged yourself in. The Hood of your Jacket over the Beanie on your head. Blanket wrapped around you. Everyone was looking at you with concern written all over their faces. You were coughing softly, sitting down on the bench.

"Pequeño, tu lugar está en la cama.(little one, you belong in bed.)" Alexia said right away.

"Sólo estoy aquí para mirar.(just here to watch.)" You let her know.

"Intentamos hacerla descansar, Alexia.(we tried to get her to rest, Alexia.)" Mapi explained, walking in right behind you. Ingrid next to her.

"you know she is stubborn." Ingrid replied. You let out a huff which actually triggered a coughing fit. Aitana right by your side, rubbing your back.

"Te ves agotada!(you look exhausted)" She told you.

"¡No quería perdérmelo!(i didn't want to miss out!)" You admitted. Sniffling softly.

"¡Puedes mirar, pero si las cosas empeoran, te irás a casa!(you can watch but if things get worse you are going home!)" Alexia said.

They got ready to go outside for practice. Doing some drills. You watched them for a bit before you started to develop a fever. Hoping the other Girls wouldn't look over cause if they did they would notice it right away.

Unfortunately that fever wasn't the issue right now. No you started coughing really badly and ended up with an Asthma attack in full swing. Breathing heavy. The noises you made were quite loud appearently because the Girls all looked at you before they sprinted over. Your sister was the first one by your side. Along with Ingrid and Alexia.

"¡Está bien, estoy aquí!(it's okay I am here!)" Mapi told you. She sat you up straight. Grabbing your inhaler from the Pocket of her trainings sweatpants.

"Take a deep breath!"Ingrid instructed once Mapi placed the inhaler in your mouth. And you did take two deep breaths. It wasn't easy. But you managed.

"Ya es suficiente. Necesitas ir a casa y descansar.(that's enough. you need to go home and rest.)" Alexia answered.

You were too weak to argue. Ingrid who helped you up with Mapi frowned.

"you are burning Up!" She stated. Looking really worried. Mapi put a Hand on your forehead.

"Tienes mucha fiebre. (you have a really bad fever.)" Mapi confirmed.

Alexia told them to take you home and make sure you get enough rest. There was a really important game coming up in two weeks and they all knew you wanted to play in it. So resting now was Key.

The two took you Home and helped you into your pjs. Then they put you to bed. Ingrid decided to make some soup for you and Mapi stayed with you. Watching you sleep. She was worried you would have another Asthma attack. You ended up cuddling into your sister's arms. Sleeping for most of the day, you had some of the soup Ingrid made, had a long bath and then went back to sleep once again. Both Ingrid and Mapi stayed with you the entire night. Thankfully the next day was an off day so you didn't had to worry about missing out on anything. You were sleeping for most of that day as well before you started to feel like yourself again so you slowly got back into practice.

And you were able to play in the important game! Which you one and scored a goal in.

[novvabee]

Birthday Present

Summary: poly!marauders x reader, you give Sirius a cute gift

cw: suggestiveness if you squint, general fluff

word count: 1K

“Ok now open your eyes!” You said excitedly to your boyfriend.

He was covering his eyes with his hands, being led by James and Remus on either side.

This elaborate surprise all started about a month ago. Sirius’s birthday was quickly approaching, the first birthday out of all of you. You knew that you wanted to do something special for him. You knew that he was almost impossible to shop for, he has everything he needs or wants, he is terrible at saving his money and impulsively buys whatever he wants when he sees it. 

The few things you knew you could buy for him, James and Remus had already got for him. Remus a few new vinyl records and James a pair of brand new black Converse. 

It was you who brainstormed those ideas up and your boyfriends took them right out from under you before you got the chance to go out and buy them yourself. Those assholes. Those absolutely lovely, kind, and caring assholes. 

You knew that you had to go in a different direction, then. You also wanted to upstage the two idea thieves slightly, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud. 

You then remembered a charm that you could try and teach yourself. You didn’t have long to learn and practice it, especially when all three of your boyfriends were attached at the hip, attached at your hip. You weren’t exactly complaining, you loved them, but you couldn’t exactly practice your surprise in front of the birthday boy and you didn’t trust James and Remus to not ruin the surprise for Sirius.

So that meant sneaking off in the middle of the night most nights, slipping out of the comfort of your boyfriends warm embraces and the soft cozy bed. But you would do it if it meant you could see a smile on Sirius’s face.

So you practiced and practiced all those late nights for this exact moment.

Sirius dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He blinked at you standing in the middle of your shared bedroom. He looked slightly confused.

“Are you my present, love?” he said in a suggestive tone.

You giggled in reply before muttering the complex incantation. Once the last syllable left your lips, the room became lit in a magical glow. The roof appearing to fall away and a universe of stars and planets taking its place.

All three of your boyfriends looked up in awe.

Sirius was the first to step forward, still entranced in the charm. His eyes scanned from point to point, from star to magic star. He smiled, face glowing from the blues and purples being reflected on him by your little trick.

You thought for a moment that maybe you should have gotten him something. This wasn’t a tangible or memorable object that he could have. You waited for a moment before explaining yourself. “Look, I know its not much,” you started, “I just- I thought that I could-”

“This is amazing!” Sirius exclaimed. “I- how did you…” Sirius seemed to be at a loss for words, stepping under the small universe you created.

“This is beautiful,” James spoke up. 

“It's incredible,” Remus agreed.

You felt better about the charm now. You thought that maybe your present wasn’t enough, that maybe you could just say this was what you could come up with as a sort of place holder until you could get a real gift. But their reactions, Sirius’s reaction in particular, set your mind at ease.

“Look!” Sirius said joyfully, grabbing Remus’s hand and pulling him to the center of the room. “It's all of us.”

“All of us?” James asked, amused and confused.

Sirius motioned up at the magic ceiling, ponting at the moon “Well, here’s Moony of course,” He pointed out the brightest shining star in the corner of the room, hanging above the bed, “That’s me, the Sirius star,” he then made his way to drag James under the glowing sun. “And here you are.”

You smiled ear to ear. “Yeah, I guess that is all of you.” you said, admiring your work.

“And you.” Sirius said from across the room, still holding James’s hand.

“And me?” you repeated to him, confused.

He crossed the room to where you had planted yourself since the big reveal. He closed the gap and cupped your face in both hands, tilting your head up to look at him. You were met with the glow of his eyes, both from the magic ceiling you had created and from the look of pure love and joy he was giving you. He looked so beautiful.

“You are the galaxy that holds us all together, without you, there would be no reason for us to shine now would there?” You weren’t too sure about his logic, but it was sweet nonetheless. You turned your face to kiss the inside of his palm and smiled at the feeling of his warmth.

Later that night, once all the gifts were given, when you were through with your fancy dinner date, after you all sang happy birthday and sat in your living room to eat the cupcakes you made for Sirius, when you all crawled into bed, Sirius nuzzled closer to you. 

His head on your chest, his body almost fully encapsulating your own. You played lightly with the ends of his hair, twirling them softly between your fingers. You heard James and Remus sleeping, breathing long and deep, cozied up with one another. 

“Love,” Sirius said softly, as not to wake the other two.

You hummed a response.

“That spell,” He started, “Is it… difficult?”

“Not at all.” you answered him. You had practiced it over and over to the point where you could probably do it in your sleep.

“Well… that’s good.” He said. You got the impression that there was more he wanted to say about it, but had become shy.

“What about it, Siri? You wanna learn it?” You asked. You would gladly teach it to him if he wanted, again, you had practiced it so much you could teach it to him easily.

“No,” He said sleepily, “But could you maybe do it again? Before we go to bed?”

You smiled and whispered the spell. The room lit yet again with the stars and planets. Sirius smiled slightly, eyes taking the whole picture in. You both laid there, under the stars and watched the beautiful night sky, just holding each other and appreciating the beauty before sleep eventually took over you both.

[usaguisenpaisblog]

Being Daniel Molloy's assistant

° Genre: headcanon

° Other tags: gn!reader, spoilers from the season 2

|| Sorry if something is wrong, english is not my first language||

° Daniel Molloy was a complicated person - a fact that he himself recognizes and admits out loud. "Probably because of the age", he would justify, but his sarcastic spirit, his sharp tongue and mind, the lack of any sense of self-preservation along with the fact that he was surly and more tired than when he was younger, made him a difficult person to work.

° The young writers, reporters or journalists who came to him were, for the most part, fans of his work. Boys and girls with a romantic view of their chosen profession, hungry for advice from a veteran in the field, but all they would receive from Daniel Molloy would be a sarcastic comment loaded with a certain truth that would make them offended enough to leave. him in peace and maybe give up on that hole they were digging themselves into.

° And then you came along: a college student in your final years of journalism school who had the audacity to approach him on a random Tuesday at his favorite café. He laughed at you, of course. He found it funny how well-dressed you were with a resume in hands, looking ready to run or fight if necessary. Without a filter or without showing any weakness in the face of Molloy's comments, the eldest had great interest in the youngest's obstinate stance. Reading one of your published articles, Daniel gave in and recognized your talent in writing, deciding to hire you as his assistant.

° The job itself was relatively simple and paid a fair amount, consisting of the task of reviewing some things Daniel hoped to publish, transcribing some interviews, and making sure grandpa took his medicine.

"Mr. Molloy, have you taken your medicine? It's already 3 o'clock"

"Blow me"

"Mr Molloy..."

"Eat my ass"

"Daniel."

(He took the medicine after receiving a serious look from you, along with a low curse).

° When the invitation for the trip to Dubai arrived, Daniel didn't want you with him for fear of what the consequences of a single wrong question asked - flashback to the 70s - could be and how it could affect you, but, once again, you surprised him, showing up on boarding day with a suitcase, a handbag and a laptop in hand, waiting for Molloy to board.

° Louis was waiting for you two, unsurprisingly, a serene smile welcoming you both to his ridiculously expensive residence in Dubai. "Welcome to my home, dear [L/N] and Daniel."

° Truth be told, all the vampire talk didn't go down in the first instance. A part of you thought that perhaps Daniel had finally lost his lucidity and was giving a crazy man an opportunity to tell his delusions, but as you watched Louis de Ponte Du Lac drain a live fox during dinner, you began to wonder what type of situation was you being involved.

° During your stay there (during the events of Season 1), your job was largely the same. When Molloy finally rested, you reviewed your own notes, did some research for Daniel, and transcribed Louis' reports.

° The fake Rashid was always around, occasionally bringing you coffee - and watching over your shoulder the article you were writing. "Can I get you something more?" He asked with those dark deer eyes. "No, thank you, darling" You would respond with a soft smile before going back to what you were doing. There was something suspicious about him, your instincts would tell you. The doe eyes were soft and almost innocent, but there was something wrong there, you just couldn't tell.

° The (sexual) tension was high whenever Louis decided to feed on Rashid during dinner. You and Daniel looked at the scene with a certain curiosity, even though you admired something that you couldn't say yourself. Something inherent in human beings watching something violent so closely. The deer surrendering to the lion with such submission that it enchanted the surrounding animals.

° "What are your thoughts about them?" Mr. Molloy would ask after another end of the interview session, both of you sitting in the room while organizing some documents.

"The twink and Louis?"

"Whatever you want to call"

"Something is definitely wrong. He's hiding something. The way he seems so devoted to Louis, yet prays for another God...that's odd, do you know? I have a feeling that Louis knows about this, but is playing too."

"Do you have a feeling?" Daniel laughed

"The same feeling that I have that you think that's odd too"

Bingo, the old man thought the same.

"Do you think they fuck?" The oldest would ask, sipping his martine.

"You should ask him that. 'Hey, mr. Du Lac, I know you're almost crying because of the memories of you old abusive lover, but the readers would love to know: do you and Rashid had or have sex?' Bet he would love to hear you asking that."

° Reading Claudia's diaries in the silence of the morning while Mr Molloy rested was something almost sacred while silence reigned in that expensive apartment. The passing of the weathered pages was a low sound, taking care not to tear or damage the vampire girl's memories. While the birds sang outside and his pen scribbled notes in his own notebook, Louis would occasionally talk privately with you, curious to know more about Daniel Molloy's sharp-tongued assistant.

° "Tell me, [Name], did Daniel tell you about what happened in the 70s?" He would ask, crossing his legs in a ridiculously elegant way.

"He usually doesn't tell me about his gay nights in the 70's, it's on our contract, you know?" You said without looking at him, too focused on the research you were doing.

° Lestat de Lioncourt was a figure apart from the narrative. Always very charming, talented and dramatic, the French vampire was like a ghost of his own stereotype, sometimes meeting expectations, sometimes making strange decisions that didn't even seem like him. Something is strange, your mind would say.

° Suddenly, Rashid became the vampire Armand, a little bitch with an attitude who loved to look at you and Daniel as if he knew something you didn't. He was more charming with those golden eyes, but there was something that screamed red flag when it came to his memories in Paris.

° "You know I can read your thoughts, right?" He approached you one night while you were smoking outside your apartment.

"And?"

"You should be careful with them" Armand slowly approached you in a clear attempt at intimidation "I don't want you giving your simple and shallow opinion about things that you don't understand."

"....I didn't say anything"

"Yet."

Red (yet beautiful) flag.

° Armand and Louis were a show of defense and explanations when they decided (in a theatrical way) to join forces and face Daniel and you. The oldest wanted to laugh most of the time, just like you, but you held back.

° Ah, but then the truth was revealed and the couple, together for 77 years, separated - the final act of the rigorous and dangerous investigation that Daniel carried out during those days there. Armand had a murderous look at humans, but he didn't move a single muscle as he tried - in vain - to calm down or explain himself to Louis.

° He turned them into vampires, of course, more out of revenge than for any plausible reason. The vampire life wasn't a burden - yet - as Daniel Molloy felt more alive than ever as he hunted men and women at night, while you had another pre-assigned mission: finding the vampire Lestat de Lioncourt.

° You just wanted a conversation. An interview.

[chlmtsdoll]

hi hi ly and ur stuff was wondering if you can do like a little wedding like yk those pics of mike at that wedding with his older art haircut, maybe them at a friends wedding idkk ly <3

Omg ily yesss this is cute <3 I was just rewatching Breakfast at Tiffany’s anddd watching the new season of Emily in Paris so I felt inspired to do something classy and romantic 🤍 this is perfecttt

FRANCE WITH ART

౨ৎ 18 + | age gap, older/sugar daddy!Art, younger/sugar baby!reader, needy art, petite!reader, a little angst, fluff !

“Isn’t she just a beauty?” you sighed out dreamily as you directed your camera to the dazzling city beyond you, panning to the Eiffel Tower that was looking just poised as ever sitting beyond the sunrise. No drowsiness or jet lag was going to keep you from taking in every second you could of the beauty and scenery as long as you were waking up in Paris, France.

You’d been up bright and early but snug in your robe. Hidden away in your suite at the Ritz. The penthouse-like hotel room was Arts sweet gesture to go all out for your comfortability as you were accompanying him on this get away for one of his long time tennis co-workers colossal wedding. Being in this city has always been like a dream to you. Especially now that you got to explore it with the man you were no stranger to showing how much you adored. And he had you glued to him as often as possible too.

You and Art had arrived a few days earlier just to see all the wonders and sight out all the romance spiraling around every fountain and podium. Art planned out everything. Taking you to all sorts of historical eloquent museums, the most upscale restaurants with jazzy night life surrounding the two of you, catching the tower sparkle at midnight. You walked Pont Alexandre hand in hand with the strawberry-blonde and kissed above the waters of Puente Marie.

You didn’t know if it had been the aroma of the city, or Arts way of brainwashing you into staying in his world of poshness and high class wonders forever, but it was like something straight out of a movie. He truly made you feel like the princess of all romance and desire — You even got to be sweetness to his arm when he brought you to a few tennis matches the capital held. With he glamour of vip seats and rosé meeting your lips as Art clutched your thigh in a way that said mine as he peered the tournament.

It was something about everyone knowing who he was and wanting him right then. The paps, starstruck fans, his wealthy tennis friends, all wanting the attention of the enamored man — his smile with dimples showing contrast to his gorgeous features as he signed autographs and took photos with girls and even women much older than you. He was truly a magnet with an essence of adoration for his life post his ex wife and more wealth than ever, pilling on to his retirement. He didn’t have a worry in the world but his ever lasting fame and all the while you, his young, beautiful and spoiled beat, girlfriend that got to look too pretty and absolutely pampered by his side at all times. You just couldn’t wait till after the tournaments, when Art would be buried snug in your sweet tight cunt before you had even rushed to get your shoes off and the door locked properly. The way the pending man kissed every inch of your body, merging his own with you. Pulling your hair in wistful ways, rough in his knuckles but with the upmost love and care as he sweet talked you through his own pent up fixation of you. Heavy thrusts to your soft little body — and when you’d scream his name out at way too late (or early) you knew that he was going to shower you in jewels the next day.

He loved it. And he knew you absolutely loved it.

Your wildness only he could contain kept him feeling young, and he would do absolutely any and everything for that feeling of your girlish youthful smile to never stop making his heart swell.

“I woke up earlier than usual today. The wedding is at noon, so I just ordered room service and had the loveliest breakfast.. Art went out a bit before I got up and he should be back soon I’m sure. I should get ready, but god. I could just live in this suite to be honest.” Your giggle was breezy as you talked to your phone. You loved recording vlogs of all the beautiful places you got to see — and well, you could quite tell people enjoyed seeing what the girlfriend of a international tennis superstar was up on the daily. So that’s exactly what you gave them.

Your expensive and perfect little life.

You had been perched out on the balcony with your hand fluffed cappuccino as you gazed out at the filled streets and soft echo of jazz from down the way when you heard the muffled noise of your suite door being unlatched “Princess?” Art muttered softly as he noticed you weren’t still tucked away in bed. A grin took upon the man’s lips before he called out a little louder. “Where’s my girl?”

When you heard his voice, your smile had gone from dazed to stir in a quick shift as you got on your feet to exit from the window out look to find the tall man standing by the door with hands full of upscale shopping bags. There was no time for him store them before you were wrapping your own much shorter body around his torso. Art chuckled delightfully as he moved to embrace you back in his warmth.

“Mmm, where have you been? I missed you.” Your eyes met his gleaming ones, looking up that the man while he now cupped your cheek. His eyes half perched with colors of brown in his blue, your lips were already inching to lay a solid kiss on his fond simple staring back into your orbs with all adoration— so Art picked you up and kissed you just as sweetly before setting you down again.

“Well.. I supposed you’d still been asleep by the time I got back — I went for a little shopping stroll. Got some pretty things for you baby.. go sit.” the blonde bent to kiss at your neck with a sly smirk as he inched for one of the satin handled bags and your face lit up all over again.

You noticed one bag, a specially tinted turquoise blue and you almost lost all composure right then as Art brought it to you. He opened up a delicate box from Tiffany & Co. and your eyes fell dream like immediately. In his hands were the sparkling silver jewels you’d had your eye on for a good while now, you sunk your teeth into your lips as Art watched your pupils dialing with a grin of his own.

“I don’t care if it’s a wedding that’s not yours. I want you to be decked out tonight, baby. I want everyone to know how opulent you are, and that you belong to me.” Art smirked as he took your wrists in his palms to lock to bracelet around your skin that had a royal ‘A’ initial engraved in it. No matter how much Art gave and gave to you, you were always left speechless by his thoughtful expressions of love for you.

“Oh my.. Art, it’s beautiful- - and it reminds me that your mine,” you gleamed. “I love it.”

Your soft sigh of pleasure was light as your cheeks began to ache with your beaming smile. But the gentleman didn’t just stop there. He still was picking up more bags that followed and you noticed the Chanel logo immediately by the tag of course.

“That’s not all.” He tittered before slipping a gorgeously designed box from the bag, even larger, your jaw became quite loose as the case landed in your palms. You felt like a kid getting exposed to an entire candy store and Art watched you rummage, still with grace, through the box itself — elegantly wrapped in light paper as you breathed out excitedly till your finger tips graced over the soft pink flap beneath. You couldn’t stop your squeal from echoing across the room.

“Oh my god.. baby!” You were gagging on gasps as you pulled out the bag and your eyes ran over the gold chain along with your hands. Art chuckled as you squealed in pleasure and it affirmed that he certainly picked the right choice.

“We have a day left and I just couldn’t go back to the states without you getting one — and you already have the black and white so you needed just the perfect pink one, right sweetheart?” Art sat beside you on the king sized bed with a fond smile on his lips as he observed you. His dimples showcased perfectly and you couldn’t help but pout in admiration of the man beside you. You set the bag to lounge a hug on Art that made him laugh, grasping your soft robe to pull you into his lap with ease. Your arms were tight around him, but lips go in for a smooch that had Art leaning into your touch quick. His eyes slowly fell closed in bliss just at the sweetness that you were. Proud he got to spoil you time and time again — but the best part being as you never took a second of it for what it could be. Him just being a typical man, taking up a fathering role in your life to buy you pretty thinks all so you’d end up on your knees for him. No. He genuinely wanted to lift you up. And you just loved and adored him, and that’s what he always strived for in the long run.

“How did I ever get so lucky ?” Your voice laced with sweetness and sympathetic tones as you look up at Art with your fawning doe eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you.” You hid your smile under your bitten lip as your soft thumb graced over the man’s peachy ones and he just stared into you with all desire of your being.

“Course.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against your exposed neck in admiration before leaving a kiss there.

“Anything for you, love.”

You couldn’t have been more giddy as you finally made yourself get up from the alluring man’s lap, hand still in contact with his cheek.

“Now, I must show the vlog everything you got for me.” You implored with assertion, but nothing could drive away from your girlish giggle that escaped as you skipped for your phone to which Art leaned out of your way for you to grab with a soft chuckle. “Okay, you guys aren’t going to believe me when I show you what Art got me…” your stammering blush matched your excited high pitched tone, and Art had a wide and easy grin on his face — he loved watching your small figure pride around so bubbly just to talk to your phone. You really hadn’t had much else to do in your free time. There was no need to have your own career, certainly no grocery list, or even a worry for your future when at the forefront Art paid for literally every last necessity or just pure want that you needed.

All you were expected to do was be his pretty little thing — traveling around the world and occupying yourself only when he had been busy with tennis, so you had your vlogs. And you were more than happy with that as long as you got him.

Soon enough you were standing in the golden embroidered mirror of the deluxe French country styled bathroom, touching up your lipstick and hair. Your dress a soft silky pink to bring out your cherry colored lips. You tried your best truly not to move much to ruin the flow of your pin curls. You felt the most pretty and expressive you might ever had right now — and when Art Apr approached the door way of the room, he had to hold his breath for a moment just at the single sight of you. Unable to utter a word. He just viewed as he leaned there tall whist his button up just slightly undone, his chest being seen enough to make you peek at the blonde with a soft grin at his icy blues glancing over your own figure.

“What?” You titter softly as you acknowledge the man who now crossed his arms as his lips curved to show his nearly sparkling teeth,

“Nothing, you just look absolutely gorgeous is all.. I don’t know how you expect me to keep my composure all night in that, but it’s a special day, so I’ll allow it.” Art chuckled and you sighed into the marble counter top as you shook your head affectionately.

“Well, this is your work Mr. Donaldson. Everything I have on you got me.” You noted as you gave him a three-sixty of your heavenly body to which the man pulled his lip between his teeth not so subtlety.

“Mmm, your being mean.” Art groaned playfully as he leaned off the wall to grab your waist and pull you into him. Your face immediately got hot as you were pushed into his aroma, YSL cologne that you found all too sexy eluding off of him. “Your gonna be so adored tonight baby, maybe just as much as the bride herself.” The blonde inched into your ear with a rasps as he grasped your limbs in his hands gently and pressed you into his chest with flow. You nearly let his teasing pull you in — but you couldn’t fight the uproar of sudden thoughts in the back of your mind,

“I’m a little nervous for tonight.” You chuckled lightly. And Art kept his eyes beyond yours, with a slight furrow of his brow.

“How come ?”

“Well… I know a lot of your tennis friends are much older. With much older girlfriends.. and wives..” Your fingers went to toy coyly with Arts collar, and you glanced down while he already had been shaking his head as he noted your words. “They might- judge me. Because I’m much younger,”

“No. No, baby.. I know it’s a little different for you, versus me. You’ll always get the short end of the stick. I know.. but I promise no one’s gonna make you feel inadequate. At least not by me. And if you do get a look or two, fuck them. We’re in France. It’s a French wedding. We’re pretty on theme anyways.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his wit, he always knew how to get you out of any overthinking so quickly with his pure charm and sharp-wittedness. Your reaction made Art smile down at you as his eyes followed your pretty face.

“You’re right. Besides, they’ll all be looking at you anyways.”

“What ? Please,” Art groaned before he chuckled and raised your arm so he could spin you. “You’re breathtaking. You’re impossible to go unnoticed and you know it, sweets.” You giggled out as he spun back around to him and held you close with his admirable wealthy laugh filling the air.

“But.. really, you’re the expert, do you think I look okay? I think they cut my hair too short this season…” Art peered down at you blinking up at him through your lashes and you shook your head.

“No. It’s perfect, at least to me most importantly. You look so handsome.” You ran your fingers through the man’s shorter golden locks and he couldn’t help but feel a heat rising to his own at the way you observed him. Fingers fixing every last strand or detail on him, to then grazing his jawline. “Perfect, as always.” You grin.

Arts blue orbs hadn’t been able to pull away from the beauty that was you below him, you just looked absolutely otherworldly in that dress, all dolled up. He liked to tell himself it was all for him — if it weren’t for the wedding fever going around he’d certainly blame something in the air just noting him to lock you down quick. “God, you look so fucking good in that dress..” Art groaned with a huff before lifting you off your feet and meeting you with a kiss. You couldn’t help but half moan and half sigh into it after your soft gasp as the man swept you off your feet. His lips adorned yours, and you were so pushed by the way his hands leveraged your weight effortlessly to collide with him.

Smiling slyly between kisses you mutter “we only have an half an hour before the caravan picks us up, Art…”

he could of taken your breath away but you managed to get the words across even through Arts hungry kisses. (You’d have to touch up your lipstick, again. If not the rest of your attire soon after he’s been done with you.)

“Yeah ? I can work with that.” The tall blonde grinned as he carried you out into the bedroom and your giggled trailed not too far along behind you.

[rafesslxt]

💓 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 — 𝐦. 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

sfw | spanish!reader | words: 3,5k

aesthetic: 🎂🎁🛩️🌺🌊 | requested

「 ✦ the boys planned something special for your birthday and take you on a trip to france ✦ 」

warnings: fluff, kissing, Spanish reader so used google translator. Not proof read til now

note: happy late birthday @samgonecrazy 💓🫶🏻 hope u had a wonderful one and like my little present 🎁

"Can I please take this off now?" excitement rushed through my veins like a bullet would through a pillow. I couldn't see Mattheo but I still heard his teasing smirk in his voice. "No, princess. Not until we are there."

We sat in a car that would take me, Mattheo, Theo and Enzo to wherever. They only told me it's a surprise for my birthday and that I have to wear a blindfold so I wouldn't see to where we were driving.

After a few more minutes I felt the car stopping and the engine being turned off. "Nooow?" I asked again like a little impatient child. "We will tell you when you can take it off, alright?" Enzo now answered, his voice coming from behind me.

I heard the door opening and shutting, leaving me alone in the car for only a few seconds before someone opened my door for me and helped me getting out of it.

"Carefully, okay that's good." Theodore who seemed to be the one who was helping me, spoke. "Just walk with me." He intertwined our arms and started to walk into me straight direction. In the background I heard the door being shut from the trunk, Mattheo and Enzo mumbling a few things I couldn't quite hear while they walked over to us.

We slowly started walking again, passing other people talking and cars driving pass us. I heard Mattheo's voice behind me again before he came closer. "Are you ready?" "Really? Can I take it off?" I asked a little bit nervous but also excited.

Two hands pushed the blindfold over my eyes and what I saw right in front of me, was a huge airport. "The airport?" I asked slightly confused.

"We're going to France!" My eyes widened and my face fell, losing all it's color while I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What?" I mumbled? "What's wrong? Aren't you happy?" I saw the looks on their faces and instantly felt bad. "No! I mean I am so happy! I just can't believe it.." my voice broke down a little at the last few words and I felt my eyes getting watery.

"Awww come here, there's no need to cry okay?" they all hugged me, circling me in between them and kissing my head each. "Where exactly are we going to in France?" I asked, wiping away a single happy tear on my cheek. "Vallon-Pont-d'Arc" Mattheo grinned at me. A big smile started forming on my face. "You guys are too good to me." They all shook their heads in unison. "You deserve the best, amore." Theodore smiled, knowing I loved his thick accent when he called me nicknames.

I didn't saw the side eye he got from Mattheo tho. "Wait – I don't have anything with me! I didn't pack my things!" Enzo chuckled and nodded towards a suitcase. "We told Pansy to pack your stuff in here. You have everything you need – even more. Since I'm sure Pansy took way to long to pack for just 'the necessary' things.

With that we walked inside the airport, my heart pumping faster and faster the closer we got to our gate. We were there a few hours earlier to make sure we got enough time to check in and get the flight. We found seats to sit on with a little table in front of us. Mattheo sat right next to me while Enzo and Theodore sat in front of us, on the other side of the table.

We played a few card games they bought, ate a little bit and thought about what the others may be doing on their holidays. The boys told me that Pansy wanted to come too but her parents wanted her to be at home for some reason.

The flight went really well too – besides Enzo puking into a bag when there were a few turbulences that weren't even that bad to be honest. "Dude come on, you sat on Hagrid's flying big feathered bird that you flew with through the whole sky but a little shaking makes you puke?" he teased him but Enzo just showed him his middle finger right before puking into the bag in his hands again, making the boys laugh even more.

The flight wasn't that long so we all took a little nap at some pint to be fit when we would arrive. After a while I could see France from above, having the window-seat. "It's already so beautiful." I mumbled.

I felt Mattheo's chin on my shoulder, peaking outside the window. "It really is hm?" A little shiver ran down my spine before I turned my head towards his face, our faces just a few inches apart from each other now. We looked at each others eyes without saying a word, just getting lost in each others soul.

Mattheo and I were friends. Best friends. But we weren't friends like I was with Theodore or Enzo. Of course they called me those sweet nicknames here and there but all in a flirty- friendly - harmless way. But when Mattheo did, it wasn't harmless, not to me. To me it was more.

"Dear passengers, we will be landing shortly and thank you for choosing our airline. Please get back to your seats and fasten your seat belts again"

After we landed we went straight for a taxi that drove us to our final destination. I looked outside the car window and smiled as I saw the city blurring into more nature and beautiful lakes some people sat at and laughed, looking like they felt free.

The closer we got the more excitement bubbled in my chest. We were going to be free. Free from any rules, any teachers, people who told us what we have to do. Just us.

"We are here lady's and gentleman." Theodore joked with a extra deep voice, talking through his fist so his voice slightly echoed. The car stopped and the taxi driver helped us getting all of our language out of the car. Enzo paid him and soon we walked into a camping place called "Camping Nature Parc L'Ardechois". The name stood on a sign made out of old wood, looking like it could use a new layer of fresh paint but it made it even more charming already.

The guys took the part of checking in while my eyes wandered around the Camp - as much as I could see from here. There was a little parking lot for all the cars and a few side walks where people jogged or walked down with their friends and family's. I could see a camping place from afar but also a sign with the direction for little huts, which made me wonder in what we will be staying. Now I was wondering – how long are we even staying? I turned my head back to the boys, smiling at them even tho the backs of their heads were turned towards me.

I just stood there and felt happy, relieved even to know I got those three in my life forever.

When they were ready they all walked over to me. "Come on principessa. Let's walk towards our hut." I chuckled at Theiä#s words. I should had known that they would never live in a tent for days.

We walked through the camp which got even more beautiful the more I saw of it. The hut was painted white and had a little patio with a table and 5 chairs. The grass was green and the sun in the background made it as summery as possible.

Mattheo opened the front door with a key he probably got when we arrived and checked in. "Welcome lady's" he joked, smiling at us before he stepped inside and let us follow him. We stood in a little living room with a cute couch, a coffee table and a TV. The kitchen was open and directly next to the living room. Passing the kitchen a door followed which led to a room with 2 big beds. "Oh so you guys plan on sleeping together in one bed?" I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows at them."

"Ha ha. They only had double beds." Enzo answered half joking half serious with rolling his eyes a bit too far up.

I elbowed him with a smirk on my face and set my luggage aside. "So, what are we gonna do now that we're here?" I said smiling, ready to start our little holiday together.

"Well since it's almost your birthday - " Mattheo looked at his watch while starting his sentence. " in about five hours, you should decide what you wanna do first."

They all looked at me expectingly, waiting for my answer. "Let's get ready and jump into the lake!" I giggled and opened my suitcase, searching for a bikini. When I found a few I sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door and shouting " Who's last is a loser!" I changed as fast as I could and left the bathroom running, leaving my previous clothes laying on the floor.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, laughing when I heard them chasing me one after one, getting closer and closer. I got closer to the lake and saw a little foot bridge where I ran to. I stopped at the end of it and took a look over my shoulder, seeing them almost catching up to me.

I turned back around, took a deep breath and sprung off the little bridge. Soon I felt the lake swallowing me down into its fresh coldness, welcoming me like an old friend of mine. As If I belonged right in here with the little fish swimming around me. I moved my arms and swam back up to the surface, hearing splashing around me from the boys just landing right in the water next to me.

I giggled loudly when they came back up, splashing water into my face with shaking their heads to get rid of the water from their hair. They pushed it back and looked even better than before.

My heart started racing again when Mattheo swam closer to me, a sweet little smile on his face, signaling me he was up to something. I shook my head from left to right and laughed, trying to get away from him but he was a good swimmer - I learned that just now - and grabbed me by my leg, pulling me back towards him until I was pressed against his chest.

"Why are you trying to get away, princess?" I giggled again, not able to control it with him that close to me. " I know you're up to something." "Oh yeah? Why do you think that?" "I know you better than anyone else." His smile faded for only a quick moment, If I wasn't looking at him so closely I wouldn't have had been able to recognize it, but I did.

"Well that's true, isn't it?" Before I could even fully register his words he grabbed me and held me in bridal-style, swinging me back and forth. "Mattheo!" I screamed, hearing the other two laughing.

I already were wet and it wouldn't make a difference but the little push of adrenaline still went through my veins. "Don't you da-" Splash.

And again, I was under water. I didn't move for a second, enjoying the feeling of it before getting up again since I could reach the ground with my feet from where we currently stood.

The rest of the day was spend with laughter and joy as you would say. But to me it was more. I was like I was with my own family, the best people I could wish for. The hours flew by in which we sunbathed, played in the lake and looked around the camp, planning what we would do this whole week here.

At some pint, each one of them disappeared for about 30 minutes, one after one, one returning the next one going. But I didn't question it. I knew they would be planning something for my upcoming birthday so I didn't say anything.

"It's ready." Enzo whispered into Mattheo's ear without letting me hear. I was throwing water bombs at Theo, his hands empty since he let his ones fall to the ground. "I'm so going to get revenge the next few days y/n!" he groaned with a little laugh at the end.

I threw my last one right against his chest, leaving Theo even more soaked than before. He groaned again when it splashed against his bare skin.

"Hey pretty girl, your present is ready." Mattheo's deep voice startled me with his sudden appearance beside me. I gasped and turned towards him. "My present? But it's still two hours until -" "Doesn't matter, its's part of it so come on." he grinned and grabbed my arm gently, pulling me with him, Theo and Enzo.

We walked from our hut towards the lake again but this time to the other end of it. "Stop here." Mattheo told me, making me stop walking. He got a blindfold out of his back pocket and wrapped it around my eyes. "Ugh not again.." I mumbled before following them without seeing anything.

After about two minutes his voice whispered into my ear again. "Are you ready for your surprise?" I smiled and shook my head in a sign of a yes.

Just like this morning, he took the blindfold off again and whispering "open your eyes." When I did as he told me, a loud gasp left my mouth without even thinking or acting on propose.

I looked at a little place they created into the sand right next to the huge lake, looking like a little beach. There was a opened white tent with little lights decorating it, making it look even cozier than it already was. Next to it with a bit distance was a large table with food and a big also white cake with frosting that said ' happy birthday y/n '.

In the middle of it all was a fireplace, the fire crackling, making the scene in front of me perfect. "Wow.." I whispered but loud enough for them to hear. "You guys did this?2 I asked in happy disbelief. "Yeah, for you babygirl, 'cause you deserve the whole world." Mattheo whispered again, the nickname sending shivers down my spine, just like the slightest touch of his lips against my earlobe.

I felt tears forming in my eyes again from all of those sudden happy feeling I had in my stomach. "You guys are.. thank you so so much." I sobbed, wrapping my arms around Mattheo first before Enzo and Theo joined us for a group-hug.

"Come on, take a look at the cake." Theodore smiled and pulled me with him to the table. I grinned when I saw it closer now. It was completely white with cute little flowers on the sides, made out of what looked like frosting, and the writing on top of it. "Enzo made this, right?" I chuckled, looking at them. I saw Enzo's cheeks blushing a little when he nodded. "Those idiots would have probably poisoned it by accident."

I laughed at his comment and sat down, them following my action and sitting next to me. "What's up with the tent? I thought we were going to be in the hut?" I asked, shoving cake into my mouth that made me moan by accident, sending chills down Mattheo's neck.

"We knew you would love it and to be honest here none of use would survive in a tent for a whole week but one special night won't hurt." Theodore said in a matter of fact. "True." Enzo mumbled back, shoving even more cake into his face than I did.

"Yeah, we even got marshmallows and bread dough with those long sticks you know?" I nodded, showing them a thumb up since my mouth was filled with food, making them laugh at me.

After we finished eating almost everything on the table, we sat down on those cute little blankets and pillows they had laid in front of the fire. Of course they had bought alcohol from hell knows where but they somehow did manage some. It didn't take long for everyone being tipsy but not drunk so we would remember everything the next day.

"Guys guys guys, it's almost midnight!" Enzo hushed us, remembering us of my birthday when the clock would turn midnight. They all grinned at me like crazy, counting down the last seconds.

" Five.. four.. three.. two.. one.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRINCESS!" they screamed and hugged me all at once, making me fall down with them into the sand even tho I already sat. I started laughing, trying to hug them back all at one. The cuddled me tightly, wiggling around with me in the sand, each of them babbling their own gratulations.

"Finally 18 huh? Not a little baby anymore." Enzo chuckled. "Was about damn time. now we can get into all the clubs we want to with her." Theo added, grinning down at me.

After a few more minutes we all sat up again, brushing the sand away from each others clothes. "Time for presents!" Theo shouted and stood up, getting in the tent and getting out three wrapped items.

"Yo mine first, please y/n!" Enzo took a present that seemed to be from him, wrapped into a emerald green paper. He gave it to me with a mischievous smile. " Before you open it - it's from Pansy and me." he said before I ripped the paper off, curious to know what those two wrapped inside here. "Oh my god." I gasped, looking at a special edition from my favorite book in the whole world, that I thought wasn't even there to buy anymore. "How did you -" "Honestly I don't know. It was my idea but Pansy somehow managed to get it from merlin knows where." he chuckled.

"Thank you Enzo, so much." I hugged him tightly before opening Theo's present. It was a beautiful notebook with my initials engraved. "Wow Theo, that's so beautiful." "Yeah, so you don't eye mine anymore." he winked at me making me laugh. He had one too and I always drooled over it and told him how pretty it was and how cool it would be to have my own.

I hugged him too, him kissing my forehead before I turned towards Mattheo who looked more nervous than happy. "I uhm - I don't know If you'll like it.. it's really nothing special and - " " Matty -" I interrupted him, smiling softly. " Whatever it is, I'll love it, alright?" I saw him gulping and nodding before he gave me my present wrapped in an elegant black paper with a green ribbon around it.

I carefully opened it until I had a little box inside my hand. I looked up before opening it, seeing the looks on Theo and Enzo's face. They looked as curious as me, seemingly not knowing what his best friend had bought for me.

I slowly took the lid of and instantly felt tears building in my eyes again when I looked down at a beautiful golden necklace with an opened pendant with two photo inside. One of me with my family and on the other one a photo of me with the boys. I took it outside and turned it around, reading the word "familia" engraved into my native language, onto its heart shaped form.

"Ella es impresionante." "She's breathtaking" I sobbed, looking back up at Mattheo. He knew how much I missed my family, with them living in Spain, my original home.

" You like it?" he asked almost shyly. "Me encanta más que nada Mattheo" I love it more than anything Mattheo..

I wrapped my arms around him so hard that we fell back into the sand, me on top of him. I felt him wrapping his arms around my body tightly as If he never wanted to let go of me. "I love you."

What?

I stopped breathing for a moment and didn't move an inch. he was quiet too, probably already regretting it since I didn't answer. I slowly looked at him. "What?" he gulped and nodded slowly. "I do." "You do?" I whispered back but more to myself.

"I always did." he sadly smiled at me." Without even thinking, just feeling I returned his words. " I love you too Mattheo." He looked at me in shock, making me giggle. I slowly lowered my head while he grabbed both sides of my face, stroking the skin with his thumbs.

It felt like fireworks when his soft lips met mine, finally. The only thing I felt was us, together. Forgetting completely where and with who we were right now.

He playfully bit my lip before letting go of my lips, smiling at me like a puppy. Suddenly someone cleared his throat, making us turn our heads towards the sound. It was Theo, smiling at us like a goof together with Enzo, who showed Mattheo his thumbs up.

"We are happy that you two finally realized what you have for each other, but we wanna eat marshmallows now." Mattheo groaned and rolled his eyes at them, letting his head fall back into the sand, making us laugh all together.

That was the best birthday ever, I swear.

i‘m so sorry i didn‘t post it on your birthday yesteday and two hours too late bit again; happy birthday i hope u had the best day ever and still like this 🫶🏻🫶🏻💓

xoxo sarah <3

[ccraccz]

Thanks for feeding my obsession 🥰🥰🥰 if you ever need a reason to share your writing/thoughts/whatever about our grumpy boy (hiragi obvs) or the sleepy wonder (TOGOME ISTG HIS NEW HAIR CUT HAS ME BY THE THROAT) please do ❤️❤️❤️ i don’t have any particular requests. Oh! Maybe about reader seeing their new hair cut/ when Hiragi has no product in his hair?? Either way, thanks a million!

Characters: Umemiya, Togame, Hiragi x GN!Reader

YOUR HAIR?!?! (sobbing, crying, throwing up-)

HAJIME UMEMIYA

It wasn't everyday that you'd see your boyfriend with his hair down

like, you know he washes the product out before he goes to bed, but you've never seen him with his hair down

so it took you off guard when he came to get you for your date together and his hair was down?

it was quite cute actually

his hair made him look more like a child, and his smile is brighter than ever as you get out of the house

his goofy shirt and his goofy attitude made you feel like you were staring right into the sun

"Y-YOUR HAIR?!" You call out in shock, ponting at the top of his head.

"Ahahaha! Yeah!" He laughs bringing his hand up to his hair, and moving it back "I didn't have enough product for the week so... uh..."

"Let me touch it, please..." You were suddenly in front of him, stars surrounding your face as jump in place. This makes Umemiya pout before smiles at you again, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his head.

TOGAME JO

You were used to playing with his long hair every time he came over to your place

so when he hadn't come over for a while, you called him to ask if he could come and take a nap together

you expected the usual, him coming over with snacks, talk about each others days, make out and cuddle, and then take a nap together

so when you open the door and see your boyfriend no longer with the little braid you taught him to make but an undercut that makes his face look more wide and cuter, it makes your eyes tear up

Your eyes are wide in shock, already missing the little braid, he looks so much more... squishable and bigger

"Togame!" You call out, making him smirk and rub the back of his neck, the bag on his arm rustling as he chuckles at your reaction.

"Yeah... I cut my hair sweet heart, you know what they say..." He responds as you let him inside your place.

Bringing him close after he puts the bags of snacks down. "So how was your- Mnph!" He gets cut off as you bring his face close and cover his lips with your own, your hands holding the back of his head, one rubbing the under cut on the back of his neck while the other one rubs his cheek.

You lick his bottom lip and lock on of your legs around his waist, making him instinctively grab your thigh and lift you up.

HIRAGI TOMA

It was a few hours after THAT incident with Kanon

hours before midnight hit, he called you to tell you to not go out after 12 since a gang war was going to happen

that made you anxious, knowing the possibilities of different things happening, and due to your fears you couldn't sleep

so you got everything ready for if he were to come over with any type of injury or bring anyone that is injured

but you didn't expect to find him soaked with his hair down and a large scowl on his face in front of your place

As he enters your place, his leather pants and shoes squeaking as walks in. He was mostly annoyed that his pants were sticking closer to his legs and that his socks were now wet inside of his shoes.

"Toma... Are you okay?" You ask, mostly caring for his scratched up face and wet clothes "Y-You should totally go and shower, here, ta-take off your clothes , I'll warm up a bath for you and-"

Your words were cut off as he grabs you wrist and bring you close, holding you firmly against his cold, clothed, chest. He breathes in, taking in your smell before pulling back and kissing your forehead. Nothing had to be said, he was just grateful that you were safe, and you were grateful that he didn't have any major injuries.

A/N: WAAAA I LOVE HIRAGI SO SO SO SO MUCCCHHHH ITS LIKE TOO MUCH I CAN'T SOBBING RN. Anywho's , sorry for not posting last week, i was very tired BUT I AM BACK!! PLEASE ENJOY LOVELY!! I LOVED WRITING THIS!

[magefelixir]

JPC DARRY THOUGHTS AND ANALYSIS

negative out of the way first: wasn’t really grown into the role at first and it felt kind of like he was doing a kermit impression at the beginning of runs in the family 

was absolutely FANTASTIC the rest of the way through. like he was AMAZING.

you could absolutely see him as the young person he is. he played him very mad at the world. you could so see that this is a very young man in a lot of grief facing a lot of hardships

and in this i mean that in a lot of the scenes he wasn’t ANGRY. he played it very “im at the end of my rope” frustrated, anger bubbling inside of him until he snapped. 

and when he snapped. let me just say he SNAPPPED. 

SPECIFIC SCENES: 

GREASE GOT A HOLD: 

everyone was joshing darry around a LOT. ppl were like going aside to fuck around with him a lot

so at some point dally got in his face, blew a bit of smoke and was like “hell yeah” 

soda was going aside a lot, offering cigarettes m, dapping him up etc

RUNS IN THE FAMILY: 

as i said, he wasn’t super grown into the role at the beginning so it felt a bit kermity but he got over that? OUGH!

his voice felt jazzier and deeper than brents 

THE. RASP. ON. “can’t get a break my BAAAACK all day” 

you shouldve been there my godddddd

RUNS IN THE FAMILY REPRISE:

again, he didn’t play it super angry at first

it felt very “you fucked around and now you found out” 

so very frustrated and not calm but “im trying to appear calm so i dont snap” 

of course, until he did

soda was really pushing him back and he was almost hitting soda to get to pont

you could hear like a smack on the arm while he was attempting to get to pony

and he was shoving his hands in ponys face

(this was all on “SEE THESE HANDS??? HOW TORN UP THEY ARE??) 

when he got mad he got MAD it was crazy good

THROWING IN THE TOWEL:

so, i got rush tickets and like the last time i saw it (didn’t post much abt it) i got partial view

so both times i couldn’t rlly see jack shit during titt

but you could just HEAR how upset almost at himself darry was

he felt very sorry for himself

but also like it was him looking rlly wistful on the car

you could absolutely see how soda was the only one who could calm him down lol

they sounded SO SO SO GOOD TOGETHER ITS NOT OK

DARRY/DALLY ARGUMENT: 

very similar to ritfr in that he didn’t start screaming till the end

ugh they ate it up

misc:

he messed uo in the rumble, where he really quietly said “yeah i still got-“ before paul said “i remember it looked pretty good on you!”

his and jasons voices blended AMAZINGLY i need them to uh. cover the whole musical. they sounded ao so so so so fucking good if h igh djdnsnnsbdnsnammf

i hope this is what yall wanted! if anyone has anymore questions, feel free to send asks!!

im gonna sleep now tho so ill try to get to it in the morning

[vespersposts]

You know what I love the most about Knb community? That everyone is so genuinely kind and lovely.

As soon as I complained about the lack of images from Knb official videogame, @medjaybtch told me she had the game and screenshotted me the whole looks! I mean, she used her own time time to bless us with those pics ( I'm gonna post them all but randomly).

Thank you so much, it means a lot!!❣️

Finally Kise looking himself!! 💛💛

Taiga+leather is always a good choice ❤️❤️ ( what are you ponting at, you brat?😉)

Kuroko gives Shaoling monk's vibes 🩵🩵

[kraeftwerker]

One thing that we don't talk about enough with fashion trends like dark academia, cottagecore, etc. is that sometimes the pining for those clothes is pining for an era when clothes were sturdy and dependable. The aesthetic aspect of it for me - and the vintage clothing - is in no small part about high quality materials that are fitted to *your* body and will last.

In this essay I will ...

lol but no really! I bought pants from Torrid that had houndstooth pattern, and I didn't think to check the material (i couldn't see the picture very clearly) and was so disappointed when I got them and the houndstooth wasn't stitches, but just ... a pattern on some ponte. Like. The POINT of houndstooth is that it is a clever way for fabric to be made durably.

I'm really sick of living in an era of expensive look-alikes that don't last over a year. Fast fashion makes up something like 25% of global carbon waste. I just want something that is made out of fabric without any petroleum in it. I know it costs more but that's also why we need to pay people more jfc

[carpetbug]

ML Feline Blue AU Chapter Three: Origins pt. 1/2

1 • 2 • 3

read below or on ao3

Each step back to the Pont des Arts was petrifying. All the muscles in her legs contracted in protest, begging her to stop or for the still fresh soreness to bring her to her knees. What had been an ache in her lungs was now a relentless screaming, and the sound of rushing water in the seine was making her head hurt.

But she had to know. 

It wasn’t like the streets of Paris would be crowded so early in the morning, but Marinette had expected more than the occasional elderly couple or jogger on a morning run. There were no sirens, no policemen barking orders at each other with megaphones like she had pictured in her mind. No one had noticed the bloodbath left behind. Which only made it feel all the more fictional, like some elaborate, fucked up fantasy she had concocted in her mind. 

She had to go back and know if it was real. Know if she had any right to feel as burdened as she did.

There was no reassuring kwami hidden in her pockets, no magical jewels that made her a superhero. No, those had all been tucked away in her closet, where no villain could find them. It was just Marinette, bundled securely under a thick gray hoodie, mind running wild with worst case scenarios. They didn’t stop when she arrived at the Pont des Arts, and only seemed to get louder when she took in the freshly cleaned condition.

She walked the length of the bridge, then did it twice more. It was pristine, easily wiped of the brash color it was stained the night prior. Marinette wasn’t even sure she could remember where exactly on the bridge it had been. The wooden walkway looked almost polished, the entire platform was the spitting image of perfection. It made her fucking skin crawl.

It was too easy, too tempting, to sit on one of the benches sprinkled across the bridge and let herself peel apart. The panic had long set in, leaving her feeling lost and unraveled. This sudden enemy was already plucking away at the careful seams she's used to stitch her confidence together, and he didn’t even know she existed. Sitting on the bench for a few hours, her mind wandered aimlessly on autopilot, yet always circled back to ‘Guardian. Miracle Box. Guardian. Guardian. Miracle Box. Guardian.’ It was still on loop in her head when she picked herself up off the seat and went home.

The idea of doing a mad dash through the bakery and to her room crossed her mind, she had to admit, but it was quickly dismissed. The bakery had already been open for almost an hour now, she didn't want to cause a racket amongst customers. Plus, it’s not like her parents would let it slide either. Then again, Marinette had entered her home in many weirder ways.

She pulled open the doors of the bakery, skirting the customer line and bee lining for the ‘employees only’ labeled door. If she was really lucky, her mom would be too busy to even notice her slipping in.

“Welcome back, why were you out so early?” Sabine commented nonchalantly as her daughter awkwardly tried to creep past, eyes not leaving the cash register as she tapped away at the buttons.

What a fantasy. The idea of Marinette Dupain-Cheng having a single moment of luck. “Sorry Mama, I woke up way too early and couldn’t fall back asleep so I wanted to go out for a quick walk. Then I may have fallen asleep on a bench at the seine…” She trailed off, hands flailing wildly around her as she explained to her mother. It honestly wasn’t too far from the truth, and it also wasn’t too far from something Marinette would do.

Sabine quirked an eyebrow, giving her daughter that questioning look only mothers can, before sighing and smiling to herself. She reached out and stroked her face gently, then pinched her cheek. “Go get changed and enjoy the last week of summer break. No more falling asleep on public benches.”

Marinette nodded in relief, turned to leave, then spun back around and planted a kiss on her moms cheek. “Love you too!” She hummed, bounding through the kitchen with a passing hello to her dad, then up the stairs.

Her mother had helped clear her head momentarily, but it all came crashing back down when she came into her bedroom. It all felt too bright now. The rosy tones and cluttered surfaces were bringing on a migraine, and the nauseating box of magic hidden she knew was in her closet was not helping. Still, she reached for the doorknobs after allowing her eyes a moment to adjust. She had built a nest of fabric around the miracle box, bundling it away in the corner of her closet. The box felt lighter than it had yesterday, maybe because the wood dried during the past day, or because Marinette had a night to sleep on the heavy new burden. Well, a few hours, really. The lid opened easily, and out flew all the kwamis. Tikki and Plagg settled calmly in front of her, both curiously inspecting the room with their eyes. The other kwamis didn’t have such etiquette, and instantly began to wreak havoc on her belongings.

Her lips parted, about to protest, when her voice failed her. Instead she let out a quiet sigh and rolled her eyes, allowing them temporary free reign, then made her way to her desk. The kwamis weaved through the air around her, almost ignoring her presence all together as they discovered the wonder that was her room. They screamed, shrieked, and squealed— Marinette had never been more relieved her parents were in the bakery, too far to hear— about each new unearthing, but she tuned them out into white noise.

There needed to be a record. A journal, a book, she’d even call it a diary. She needed to start writing these things down, making a physical trail of everything that’s happened so far. Documenting about the kwamis, the miraculous, this villain, Master Fu, her total number of panic attacks (three and counting), etc. The important things. It seemed as good a place to start as any.

“Marinette?” The ladybug kwami had followed her across the room and now sat atop her computer, intently watching her write with cautious eyes.

“Mm?” the girl hummed in response, enthralled in her furiously scribbled notes. Her tongue peeked out from her lips just slightly as she wrote.

“What... what are you doing?”

“Screw that, where the hell did you go?” The cat cut in, tail lashing from side to side. His lips were pulled back in a slight hiss, sharp teeth glinting from in his mouth.

“I-I went back to the Pont des Arts.” She mumbled, pen stilling in her hand. It was silent for a second before their voices erupted.

“You did what?!”

“I would have come with you!”

The kwamis were instantly rambling, Plagg listing off all the ways she could have died on his claws while Tikki pressed her for a play-by-play retelling. It was suffocating.

“I’m fine, okay?! I’m alright!” She huffed, slamming the pen down and pushing against the desk to send her chair rolling backwards. Marinette brought her hands to her face to gently rub her eyes before taking a breath. “Nothing happened.” She said flatly, arms falling to her lap. “I just wanted to see why no one was talking about the blood. But it was entirely clean. The whole bridge looked fucking polished.”

The kwamis exchanged a look between them before Tikki quietly repeated, “I would have come with you.” with a small frown and eyebrows knitted together in worry.

Marinettes building frustration melted. She hadn’t even thought the kwamis would worry about her, nevertheless be upset she had gone alone. A small part of her had honestly thought they would prefer she do the dirty work herself. She pinched her eyes closed and tried to shrug off the guilt blanketing her shoulders. “I wanted to go alone. Plus, it’s my job to keep you all safe and hidden now, I couldn’t risk taking you back there.” She explained softly, returning to the desk and plucking the pen from the surface to fidget with.

“It’s your job to stay safe with us!” Plagg hissed, unaffected by her gentle tone. “It’s our job to train you as guardian! You have to work with us, Marinette!” his voice wavered as he went on. “Let us teach you how to be a guardian before you try doing it on your own.

She listened carefully, gaze locked downward on her feet. After a few moments she spoke “I just want to be able to protect you guys.”

Tikki lowered through the air until she rested in Marinettes lap, looking up kindly at her eyes. “We know, Marinette.”

“But, c’mon Pigtails—“ the new nickname caught her by surprise, making her look up at the cat kwami. “We’re not the only ones who need to be protected right now.” he huffed.

“Let us keep you safe as well,” The ladybug kwami pleaded enthusiastically. “You’re not alone.”

Marinette nodded weakly as she reached a hand forward to rub the red kwamis cheek. “I’ll try to remember that. But if I'm going to do this safely, I need to be prepared.” She clicked her pen, pushing out the inky tip. “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”

An annunciatory cough caught her attention, and she turned to see the rest of the kwamis had settled in a small, patient audience around the three as they talked. It was easy to forget just how many of them there were. Seventeen miniature gods living in her room.

“I think I can help with that,” A light green kwami with a shell spoke up. His sclera was a saturated yellow, and a thick antenna sprouted from his head, ending in a round bulb. “The man you met was Wang Fu, the g— uhm.. The previous guardian of the miraculous.” he spoke, wincing slightly as he messed up his wording. “I am Wayzz, the kwami of protection.” a small tail flicked from the bottom of his shell.

Marinette took hasty notes as the kwami spoke. “Wang Fu.” She echoed the name, feeling the heavy way it rolled off her tongue. “I think I remember him saying that.” It felt wrong to say his full name only now, after everything he sacrificed for her.

“Wayzz was Master Fus personal kwami, so he knows the most about the guardian.” Tikki explained, zooming through the air to float by his side. Wayzz gave her a soft smile, but a heavy gloom lingered in his eyes. He tilted his head to lean against hers slightly, making Marinettes heart twist for the creatures.

“You must have been close.” She said gently, giving the kwami a sympathetic smile. “How long had he been guardian?”

That question gave the kwamis pause. Wayzz blinked before awkwardly clearing his throat. “Well, similar to you, Master Fu had to become sole guardian at fourteen because of… a-a tragic event, leaving him the only living member of the Order of the Guardians.” He stuttered. Marinette's throat went dry and she was immediately buzzing with questions, but he went on. “But that happened many, many, many years ago. Master Fu lived to one hundred and eighty six.”

Her mind went blank, all questions gone in a moment's notice. “One hundred and eighty six?” Marinette repeated. She frantically looked from kwami to kwami, eyes wild. “Am-am I going to live that long now?” her voice was tight with panic. Being fourteen felt burdensome enough, how was she supposed to do this for another century— and possibly longer?

Plagg was the first to respond, and he did so with pure amusement. “Fear not, Pigtails. Master Fu only lived that long cause he was a crazy old man who did crazy old man shit.”

Wayzz glared at Plaggs vulgarity, but began to explain further. “It was simple really, he ate a very specific and controlled diet, practiced rigorous healing and meditation practices, and he’d even-”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll live a normal human amount of time.” An orange kwami barked, long fluffy tail flicking back and forth. He resembled a fox, but with purple eyes and long antennas on his ear tips. “Maybe take the anxiety down a level or two. We need you to stick around for a while.”

“Ha-ha.” Marinette said bluntly, rolling her eyes at the fox kwami. She turned her attention back to her journal, pen gaining motion in her hands once again. “What else can you guys tell me about him?”

“A lot, Master, but in due time. First, I think introductions are in order.” the turtle kwami responded, side-eyeing a few kwamis to his left. That’s what made Marinette finally notice some of the creatures literally shaking with excitement. A velvety purple feline and floppy eared dog most notably, both the creature's tails lashing at an intense speed. They looked like they were about to explode.

“You’re right, I don’t even know half of your guys' names.” She realized, and a dull feeling of guilt dawned on her at not having asked about them. She gestured a hand towards them, prompting them all to share.

They went around, one by one, introducing themselves. Tikki and Plagg, the ladybug and black cat, who Marinette was familiar with after last night. Wayzz, the turtle, Master Fus kwami. Trixx, the name of the fox kwami that had spoken earlier. Sass, a snake. Pollen, which is quite a fitting name for a bee kwami. Roaar and Barkk were the tiger and dog kwamis, the two exploding with excitement. Kaalki, Ziggy, Orikko, Mullo and Daizzi, being a horse, goat, rooster, mouse, and pig respectively. A blue ox named Stompp, which reminded Marinette of the story of Babe, the blue ox. A dragon by the name of Longg, and a ditzy bunny named Fluff. Last but not least, the loudest and most chaotic kwamis of them all, Xuppu, a small light brown monkey. According to them all, the butterfly and peacock kwamis, Nooroo and Duusu, were the only missing gods. One was held captive by the butterfly villain, but the other was lost alongside its miraculous.

She wasn’t sure she would ever remember all that.

“Your turn!” The tiger kwami roared in delight.

“Oh.” Since they had known her name and age, Marinette had assumed they had known everything else about her too. That what it had seemed like with Fu, why should tiny animal gods be any different? “I’m just Marinette.” They already knew that. “Uhm- My parents have a bakery, that’s downstairs, we live on top of it. Right now we’re in my room, obviously.”

“We want to know about you, Marinette!” Tikki chirped, returning to perch happily on her computer again. 

“What’s your favorite color!”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“-Or a girlfriend!”

“Why are you so small?”

“What’s your deepest darkest secret!”

The kwamis were a shrieking chorus of voices, all piling up questions without waiting for answers. Marinette watched, eyes wide, until they eventually quieted on their own. Her life was going to be a lot louder from here on out.

“Uh-uhm, my favorite color is pink.” Her face was burning as she waved a hand around her rosy room. Why is talking about yourself so embarrassing? “I don’t have… either of those things right now, the last boy I fell in love with was- uhm- w-we went swimming and-” Marinette wasn’t even sure where to begin explaining the horrific prank she’d been victim to last school year. “He just didn’t feel the same way.” She said quietly, clicking the pen in her hands a few times anxiously. What had the other questions been?

“WHY ARE YOU SO SMALL?!” That question was repeated, much louder and much closer to her face. Xuppu had sprung up in front of her, big ears nestled on the side of his face and a long monkey tail curled beneath him. 

“Cause I’m fourteen?” Marinette slid back in her chair to get some space from the kwami. “I’m not exactly done growing.” She explained in a high pitched voice, somewhat confused by his demeanor. The monkey kwami would take some getting used to. But, then again, they’d all take some getting used to.

“And your deepest darkest secret is?” Plagg purred, his tail lashing playfully.

“You guys. Obviously.”

The kwamis all went silent for a second— which seemed almost impossible to her— and exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Good answer, Marinette.” Tikki giggled. ---

“What do you mean It’s not my box?!” Marinette looked up from her journal at the kwamis and groaned loudly before burying her face in her hands.

“He means technically.” Tikki corrected awkwardly.

“I mean it’s not yours!” Plagg jeered in response. “Look at the Miracle Box. What does that look like to you?”

“I don't know! A box!” Marinette whined, throwing her arms forward and herself back onto her comically large cat pillow, before sliding down into the nest of blankets she had gathered over the week. He gave her a sharp and unamused glare. She sighed and heaved herself back upright. Studying the box carefully, she traced the design with her eyeline; staring so intensely she felt like lasers would beam from her pupils and burn through the wood. The box sat, just barely a foot away, carelessly in the corner of her bed where she had left it the night before. It looked the exact same as the first time she saw it. Still just as unsettling. She was almost scared to touch it. Thankfully, the latter feeling was fading slowly with each passing day. “It looks the same.” She muttered, before tentatively leaning forward to grab the box.

“Bingo. That's not normal Pigtails.” his tail flicked impatiently as she held the box in her lap. “Each Miracle Box has a distinct guardian, and should change to reflect their personal desires and deepest truth. This piece of junk-” Plagg flexed a single claw towards the box between them, “doesn’t look like your miracle box in the slightest.”

Tikki sighed before chiming in “He’s not entirely correct, but his point makes sense.”

“Does it?” Marinette questioned unenthusiastically, palms pulling at her cheeks.

“How do I explain this…” the bug mumbled to herself while scrunching her face in thought. Funny, people always said Marinette did that. “It’s like the box is only considering you a temporary guardian, and so it isn’t entirely connected to you. If it were, the box would change shape, size, color, even its own rules and structure.”

“MY SITUATION DOESN'T FEEL VERY TEMPORARY?!” Marinette wailed in immediate response, arms thrashing wildly at her sides.

“You’re not Marinette, don't worry! It's most likely the box can somehow sense your unease and won't allow you full guardianship… or…” Tikkis gaze took a hard turn to bore into the cat kwami to her right, who shrugged it off easily.

“That's right, I stopped it.” He yawned dismissively. “Kid, you've barely even used a miraculous, you're like nine years old, and you’re going up against an actual murderer. You should be thanking me right now.”

“You don’t think I should be guardian Plagg?” 

“Not what I said.” Plagg huffed, but Marinette wasn’t following. “I understand Fus’ situation was… sudden, but you shouldn’t have to pay for that. I do believe you would make a good guardian, Marinette, but I don't think you should have to be one.” Plagg did a weird thing as he spoke. His voice softened, his gaze became glued to the floor, and his ears pressed gently back against his head.

Her lips broke into a warm smile, and she brought her hand up to the cat to run her fingers across his soft fur. He purred, very quietly, in response. “Thank you, Plagg. It's nice to know you've been looking out for me.”

His eyes widened suddenly before he jerked away and shook out his fur, repressing his growing purr. “Too cheesy, even for me.” He fake gagged, then settled comfortably on her knee. She gave him a breathy laugh before ruffling his head with a careful fingertip and turning her attention to Tikki.

“I think I understand. So, how do I prove myself?”

“It’s not about that, Marinette. The box doesn’t think you're not good enough, only not ready.” Tikki sighed.

“I thought Plagg was the one that stopped it?” Her head tilted in confusion.

“I stopped it from granting full guardianship to you once, but I don't control the damn thing. It's in your hands from here, so take it up with the box.” Plagg huffed, beginning to groom his paws.

“You just need patience and focus. Keep preparing yourself, and the miraculous will tell you when it's time.” Tikki reassured.

Marinette let the words sit for a few moments as the kwamis flew off in search of other activities. Patience and focus. Marinette wasn’t known for either. ---

School was supposed to start on Monday. Two days to finish her studies on the miraculous, which Marinette knew she wouldn’t be able to accomplish. How could she get the flu in the next couple hours? Also, how could she make it last for a month?

“Maybe I could be of some assistance, Master?” Trixx offered playfully as he drifted towards his guardian, her hair unkempt, eyes heavy with dark bags, and body curled over her notebook, taking intense notes. An array of dirty cups and plates littered the space around her, many reeking of old coffee. “Using the miraculous of the fox you could make an illusion of yourself being sick to trick your parents! Free extra long summer break.”

She paused writing to look up at the small fox with skepticism. “Really? And it would work?” Marinette questioned, like such an easy answer was too good to be true. “Also, just Marinette. Not Master.”

“So long as no one touches the illusion, it should. It’ll disappear when it comes into contact with anybody else.” The kwami gave a nonchalant shrug.

It was hard not to roll her eyes, but instead she opted for letting out an impatient huff and pouting her bottom lip. “Thanks for the offer, Trixx, but that won’t work. The second I mention being sick to my parents, they’ll want to take my temperature and feed me soup, it would be a literal nightmare if their daughter disappeared when they touched her.”

“Your loss.” He shrugged again, but his tail lashed in a way that said ‘Don’t come crawling back to me’.

“You’re welcome to my miraculoussss.” Another kwami hissed, bringing Marinette's attention to Sass, the snake kwami. “The power of intuition will allow you to rewind time at your command, letting you try any number of ssssolutionssss until one workssss.” A long, forked tongue flicked in and out of his mouth as he spoke.

This one she gave more thought to before declining. “I would only be able to do that if I transformed.” She frowned, “My parents would definitely have some questions if I was in some random snake get-up.” then began chewing on the already heavily dented cap to her pen.

“My offer sssstandssss should you change your mind.” He nodded politely. “Perhapssss the other kwami with a time related power can help. Fluff!”

The cotton white bunny bounced through the air towards them, big ears flopping with the movement. “Yes, yes, yes, what’s happening?” She was holding a baby carrot between her paws, indicating they had interrupted her lunch.

“Do you know of any way to convince the parents our Master is ill?”

“Just Marinette, please.”

“Of course, Marinette, my mistake.”

Fluff sat on a tomato shaped pincushion on the desk, abandoning her carrot and considering her options. “I can use my power to burrow back a few days ago and find some way to get you sick?”

Sounded weirdly horrific. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but please, please don’t do that. Please.”

To Marinette's surprise, the fluffy kwami bent over giggling in response. “I won’t, I won’t, besides it would cause some horrible catastrophic event.”

“What?”

“If a kwami uses their powers without a holder to channel them, the concept that kwami represents in this universe will ‘break’, causing some calamitous event, which can usually only be fixed with the ladybug cure.” Tikki chirped, joining Fluff on the pincushion.

“Good to know.” Marinette bit down on the pen again, pressing it between her molars as she took in, well, everything. For about the millionth time.

Crack.

Ink exploded into her mouth, coating every taste bud and slipping down her throat in seconds. She gagged instantly, choking on the putrid tasting liquid, as the kwamis around her gasped.

“SHE’S DYING!” Xuppu screamed, a little too loudly, because instantly Maman shouted back.

“What? Who’s dying?”

In a hurry, the kwamis flushed through the air like a flock of birds interrupted by a hunter, all diving for the safety of the concealed Miracle Box. Marinette forced her lips together to contain the ink, a plan forming in her mind as she moved towards her vanity and its sink, pushed against a wall in her room. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a plan nevertheless.

As her parents flung open the trapdoor to her room, she made a big show of dramatically spitting out the ink and starting the faucet with exaggerated gags.

“Me! I’m dying! I was chewing on a pen and it exploded!” She whined, taking a mouthful of water from the faucet and swishing it aggressively through her mouth. It came out a murky dark gray, and Marinette had to grit her teeth as she swallowed the remaining half still in her mouth. It felt just as foul in her stomach as it had tasted in her mouth, but it was a necessary part of the plan. If she was going to fake a debilitating stomach ache, she needed a bit of honesty behind it. 

“Oh, Marinette, I’m constantly telling you to stop chewing on your pens! If you have to do it, at least use a pencil or something.” Sabine said, half joking, as she walked up and gently rubbed her daughters back. 

Marinette nodded in agreement as she continued sipping and spitting mouthfuls of water to clean out the remaining ink. Eventually she stopped the faucet and dried her mouth, then turned to her fearfully observing parents. Tom was fanning his eyes like he was on the verge of tears, for some reason.

“Papa! Don’t cry, oh my god—”

“I was worried you were choking to death!” Tom replied, dramatically stretching out his arms to gesture at his daughter. Sabine continued rubbing her back, then bit back a laugh at the sight of a dark blue ink stain on the corner of Marinette's lip. “How do you feel?”

“I’m alright,” She brought a hand to her stomach and clutched it before pulling her mouth down in an exaggerated frown. “But I think I swallowed a lot of the ink. I don’t feel very good.”

Her parents exchanged a look before sending her up to her lofted bed for some immediate rest and recuperation. The last thing Marinette heard before the door closed was her Mama starting a pot of tea, and her Papa frantically running downstairs to the bakery to make treats for his little girl. Never mind the fact she was supposed to be having a horrible stomach ache right now.

“You got a little something right there.” Plagg flew to his holder's side when the door was closed, his tail flicking at the ink stain on her face. 

She flicked her tongue across her thumb and pulled out her phone, quickly thumbing to the camera, and began to scrub at the mark. “That should get me a few days off at the very least.” She sighed, wiping at her skin more and more aggressively. “I don’t know what I’ll do after that though, it’s not like my parents would let me drop out of school. I doubt they’d even let me miss more than a week.”

Tikki joined the guardian and black cat kwami with a tissue in her hands, and she silently took over cleaning the girl's face. “Don’t worry about that now, Marinette. What’s important is you have time, and we’re all here to help teach you.” The small bug pulled back, taking in her guardian's freshly cleaned appearance. “There, all better.” ---

Marinette's week with the kwamis was busy, extensive, and overall exhausting. When she wasn’t feigning stomach pains to her parents, she was taking thorough notes on the complexities of each individual miraculous, wrestling with the Miracle Box, and not getting nearly enough sleep.

Instead, she spent her nights rotating through the different jewels, pinpointing all the different strengths and weaknesses they had. Some could see in the dark; the black cat, the tiger, the fox, and some others. Some were faster and stealthier, others were sturdy and solid. Each transformation gave her new abilities, but they all made her feel strong, refreshed and ready to fight.

They all allowed her to bounce between rooftops easily, to swing across the city, and balance like she weighed no more than a feather. Her energy was endless. Marinette wondered if it would feel that way when she was face to face with the butterfly’s latest villain. For now, she was focused on finding a good level of understanding of all the miraculous, as well as fostering a relationship between her and the kwamis.

Which she had been able to do, for the most part. She’d use part of her time with the miraculous to transform and use its powers, of course, but the rest of the time she'd spend bonding with the kwami, getting to know their favorite foods and past holders. They’d even play a twenty questions style game to get to know each other. Most enjoyed it, or at the very least tolerated it.

She had learned a lot.

Ziggy is the ‘youngest’ of all nineteen, with Tikki being the ‘oldest’. Mullo likes to spend their time pranking and teasing their fellow kwamis, while Longg prefers to stay observant and silent, surveying and keeping others in check. Trixx talks like he’s constantly trying to scam you into some sort of pyramid scheme, while Kaalki has a thick, prissy accent. Wayzz, Pollen, and Stompp are more on the quiet and calm side, unlike Roaar, Barkk, or Xuppu who can make a sold out Jagged Stone concert sound like a chill lofi playlist. Every kwami had a boisterous presence, regardless if they tried to keep calm or not. Marinette was slowly falling in love with each of them.

But most importantly, she learned the true powers of the earrings of creation and the ring of destruction.

“When combined together, the miraculous of the ladybug and black cat can grant their holder the ultimate power, any wish they ask for. This comes at a terrible price; however, the universe will be destroyed and rewritten in accordance with the request.” Tikki nodded solemnly as she explained, small eyebrows pressed together in sincerity.

“What—What does that even mean?” Marinette asked.

“If you use my ring and tikkis earrings, you get a single, all powerful wish. Could wish for anything you want. Let’s say you wish for a lifetime supply of camembert, as one does. To make that wish come true, someone else would be devoid of its cheesy creamy goodness for the rest of their life! And y'know, existence itself is destroyed and remade.” The cat kwami had an annoying habit of simplifying the most important things.

“That’s… not the example I would have used, but I guess it works.” Tikki shrugged. “That’s why the butterfly wants our miraculous, and why he killed Master Fu.”

“Well… what’s his wish?”

“Fuck if we know,” Plagg scoffed, settling on his guardians shoulder. “It happened too fast. Wayzz had a horrible feeling when the butterfly was activated, and—”

“Wait— only Wayzz? Why not all of you?” 

“It’s not allowed within the order, but should a guardian become a permanent wielder to a miraculous, their kwami will transform and have more intricate and sensitive powers.” The ladybug explained, “Wayzz was able to provide warning due to his connection with Master Fu.”

Marinette glanced at the Miracle Box resting on her chaise lounge chair, and at the kwamis resting around it. The turtle was asleep on top of the box, limbs all tucked inside his shell while his head poked out just slightly. Curled around him were Pollen and Barkk, comforting him with hushed words and soft fur. It made her heart sore.

“And that’s what’s going to happen when I pick one of you.” The realization dawned on her.

Tikki and Plagg looked at each other for a few seconds, a wordless exchange, then turned back to her. “Yes, it will. A guardian has never wielded the ladybug or black cat, since they are the most powerful miraculous, but you are in a… difficult position, so it’s inevitable.” Tikki mumbled in response.

“There’s no way of knowing what will happen when the kwami of creation or destruction is transformed, Marinette. Could be nothing, could be everything. It could hurt you.” Plagg said, pressing his front paws against her hand softly. His eyes were clouded with concern.

“I’m sure it can't do anything worse to me than what that…  butterfly did to Master Fu.” Marinette said softly, petting the cat's forehead with a gentle touch. “Don’t worry about me, Plagg.”

There was only so much Marinette could learn in the short time she'd had so far with the kwamis, and taking on too much was leading her to anxiety attacks and paranoia. Holding up so much all at once was crushing her, it was obvious, but she refused to sit and breathe. Everything needed to be put in the right place for when things went wrong. Everything needed to be prepared, everything needed to be written down. It was the closest thing she had to a guide. 

Because of this, she could tell the kwamis were holding back. There were some things they knew she wasn’t ready for, and Marinette didn’t think she was prepared to challenge them for it. But knowing there was potentially vital information right out of her reach made her heart race, it made her hands start to shake. How could she be ready for anything if she didn’t know everything? It was best to reassure them all that there was nothing to worry about.

There was a blur of motion, then she watched the black cat kwami zip through the air in front of her to the skylight overhead, then out to the balcony above. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was shaking as he flew.

Marinette looked at Tikki, who was also starring after Plagg with a sad frown. “Did I say something?” She asked softly.

Tikki shook her head, “Not in the way you think.” she tried to comfort, then lifted into the air and began towards her fellow kwamis. “I think you should check on him, Master.” The bug flew away before she could correct her.

She reached up and pushed open the passage.

The night air felt fresh, blowing through her unwashed hair and tingling the smaller hairs along her arms and legs. A slight chill flowed through the breeze, raising goosebumps across her skin.

Plagg was curled into a small, black ball in the center of her sun chair, his tail flicking every few seconds. She watched him in silence, until his bright green eyes peeked open from the void to stare back at her.

“What, I can’t take a catnap in peace?” He grumbled, ears laying flat against his head.

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the occupied chair.

“I’m feeling catty, so what.”

“You know I don’t want you guys outside on your own.” Marinette ignored his response, brushing her palm softly across his silky back. “Are you okay, Plagg?”

He shot up with a sudden and violent hiss, batting her hand away. “I don’t know, kid! Am I okay? Are you okay, Marinette?! Is this what we’re doing now?!” He spat, fangs bared.

She flinched back just slightly, unprepared for his outburst. Plagg had just yelled at her. “Wh-what? I don—”

“None of this is okay! And I’m sick of being told not to worry about you!” Plagg floated just above her, black fur bristled out in angry spikes as he snapped. “Why don’t you care, Marinette?!”

Plagg must have known how that stung. “Care about what?! I care about you! I care about all the kwamis, the miracle box, even that old man I knew for thirty seconds! I care about all of it!” Marinette bit back at him, unable to hold her tongue. All she had done was care, how could he say that?

He quieted, then dropped back to the chair without a word. Plagg looked up at her with sad eyes and droopy whiskers, “Why don’t you care about yourself?” he asked.

The words stopped her. Stunned her, really. “I-I… I don’t even— Plagg, I— I care.”

“You’ve been tearing yourself apart, Pigtails. Back-to-back all-nighters studying us, blaming yourself for what happened to Fu, putting our own emotions and wellbeing above your own. It’s too much.”

Water welled in her eyes as she choked on a response. “I didn’t mean… The— I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He watched her for a second, considering her words. “You did the right thing. I just sometimes wish you would do whatever the wrong thing is, too.” he said, then continued before she could question it. “Sit down and do nothing for a while. Go to sleep at nine. Let yourself be selfish, Kid, if that’s what it means to care about yourself. It’s a kwamis job to care for their guardian, too.”

Tears slowly rolled from her cheeks, quickly turning to a steady pour from her eyes. Marinette sniffled, wiping the heel of her palm against her face in a vain attempt to dry her skin. “Th-there’s so m-many of you… and s-so much to do, I-I just want to keep you all safe, and—”

“We’re safe, Marinette. No one else knows where the miracle box is, and you’re going to make sure it stays that way.” Plagg said, tail wrapping reassuringly around her wrist. “There’s a lot of us, sure, but we can manage on our own. And you have all the time in the world to do everything there is to do.” He gently rubbed his face against her hand as he purred, just like a real cat would. “You freak out too much, Pigtails.”

She had no response to that. It was true.

“So don’t tell me not to worry about you.” His voice was weaker now, wavering like he was also fighting against a wave of emotion.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, still wiping tears from her face. “I just want to do this the right way, so I try to control it all, and I freak myself out. I want to be a guardian, and be there for you all, b-but, I—” Marinette trailed off momentarily, “I just want to be Marinette, too.”

Plagg gave her a small smile. “I’ve been telling you since you saved us, this isn’t your fight. You're not in charge of controlling it all. You don’t deserve to go through this, but I won’t stop you from going forward.” He took a deep breath then gave a resolute nod, before diving back inside the room below. He reappeared moments later with a smooth black ring in his paws, and a crowd of kwamis all poking their heads out of the balcony door. 

Plagg held out the ring to her and spoke, “I, Plagg, the kwami of destruction, ask you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, to wield the ring of the black cat. Using it, you will protect the kwamis in your care, you will reclaim the stolen butterfly and lost peacock miraculous, you will enlist the help of a ladybug holder, and you will rest when you need to.” The words had the same effect as the ones Master Fu had spoken at the Pont des Arts, only both she and Plagg started to gently glow.

Marinette reached out slowly, still convinced the kwami would yank back the jewel at the final moment, explaining to her that she wasn’t worthy at all. Instead, he happily let her take the ring, even purring just slightly when her hand brushed his chin. 

She slid the cold, black ring onto her right pointer finger, intrigued that it had the same weightless feeling that the earrings had. A dim, green glow passed over the jewelry and Marinette watched as it changed to an iridescent silver, and a small flower replaced the paw centerpiece. She twisted it slowly with her thumb, eyeing over the camouflaged details. Unless someone knew to really look, it truly seemed like any other ordinary ring.

“It’s never too late, Pigtails. You can always back out.” Plagg spoke gently, his eyes darting between her and the ring. It was her decision, her choice.

“I accept.” She spoke, igniting a bright change in the steady glow encompassing them. The light burst in a flash, passing over the guardian and her kwamis, solidifying their connection. As it subsided, Marinette blinked open her eyes to find nothing had truly changed. Except for the feeling.

This felt final, like a decision set in stone. She was the holder of the black cat. She was the guardian.

She turned to the kwami audience, smiling softly at them. They returned her smile with cheers and congratulations, some of the more emotional kwamis genuinely brimming with tears.

“Oh, we’re so proud of you!” Ziggy bleated.

“You’re destined for great things, Marinette!” The mouse kwami squeaked.

“Never before have we had a guardian so young and with such potential. Under careful guidance she will go far.” Even Stompp seemed genuinely happy for the girl.

Marinette let herself bask in their praises, just for the moment. A happy laugh rose from her throat, one she didn’t try to deny. “Do you guys think I’m ready?” She smiled, hands passing from kwami to kwami as she pet them.

“As ready as you can be for now. You’ll learn on the job, chickie!” Orikko clucked warmly, pushing his feathered head into her palm. The other kwamis agreed, slowly gaining energy in the space around her. Soon they were bouncing in the air, some singing and dancing in excitement.

“Guys, guys! Shh, come on, let’s take the party inside.” Marinette hushed, waving the group inside. The kwamis giggled among themselves and drifted back into her room, followed quickly by their guardian. “Thank you, Plagg. It actually feels… kind of real, now.” She whispered to the black cat as she latched closed the trapdoor.

“It wasn’t me, Marinette. All I did was ask something of you. You’re the one who chose us, we should be thanking you.” He said, when another squeal rang out.

She huffed in annoyance, gave him a small peck on the forehead, then climbed to the ground floor of her bedroom and glared at the kwamis in warning. They quieted, and she pressed an ear to the floor to listen for her parents. The muffled sounds of a video game sounded from beneath them, signaling they hadn’t heard. Marinette turned back to the kwamis, ready to scold, when she finally focused on what her tiny gods were looking at. 

Where the Miracle Box used to sit, there was now a bonsai tree, nestled inside an intricately designed pot. On thick bands around the vase was the same pattern that used to be on the top of the box, but that was the only thing that looked similar between them.

“What… is that?” Marinette gasped as she crossed towards the plant.

“The Miracle Box! My liege, it has accepted you!” Pollen buzzed with joy, flying in fast circles around her head.

“The Miracle Tree, you mean.” Plagg meowed at the bee while nuzzling into his holder's shoulder. “It’s all yours kid.”

She reached out a hand, rustling the orange-pink leaves that sprouted in eager clusters across the branches. At the base of the tree, engraved into the trunk, was a yin-yang symbol with the marking of the cat and ladybug balanced between each other. Arched above it was the fox, turtle, and bee, with the butterfly and peacock on either end. The growth above was occupied by the zodiac kwamis, each one laying claim to their own bushel of leaves.

The plant was gorgeous. If she didn’t know better, she would have assumed it to be an expensive gift or invaluable family heirloom. In some weird ways, it kind of was.

There was only one blemish.

“It’s rotting.” Marinette muttered, mostly to herself, as she studied the tree. Surrounding the butterfly and peacock markings were deep gouges, threaded with dark veins. They seemed empty and lifeless when compared to the other miraculous along the tree. Corrupted, almost.

“It’s hurt.” Tikki chirped, popping into place beside Plagg. “Nooroo and Duusu are essentially dead– or dying, according to your Miracle Tree, which is what’s causing that damage.” The bug flew closer to the trunk, extending a small arm to test the bark. “We’ve never seen a Miracle Box like this before.”

She almost sounded impressed.

“How do I fix it?” Marinette asked, now fiddling with the scarred wood. The kwamis were all still celebrating, but she couldn’t help feeling like she broke the thing. It hadn't hurt before, afterall.

Tikki turned back to her with a blank stare. “You can’t.” She said, flying back to her cat counterpart. “Not right now, at least. Maybe once the butterfly and peacock are retrieved, but even that isn’t a guarantee.”

“The tree isss now connected to you, Marinette. It’sss deeply aware of your feelingsss, moralsss, and desssiresss. In a way, the only one who truly knowsss how to manage it isss you.” Sass chimed in, settling carefully onto the fork in the center of the trunk.

“Me?! I don’t even know the first thing about plant care! Do I need to go get fertilizer? Wait, first, I need to make a list of everything I’ll need so I can go to the store— Shoot, do we still have those gardening gloves Maman bought a few years ago? Where would she put— No, no, we gave those to Nonna for her birthday…” Marinette started to ramble, already beginning to pace around her room.

“Pigtails!” Plagg interrupted, pausing her spiral. “It’s magic. It’s a magic tree. You don’t need fertilizer, or gloves, or whatever else you’re already thinking of buying.”

“Oh.” That’s simple. Why couldn’t it all be that simple? She went back to the potted plant, then took a deep breath and heaved it up from the floor. Straining, she slowly carried it across the room, then hoisted it onto her desk. She’d find a more permanent place for it later.

A cheerful tune began from the computer behind her, bringing her attention to Fluff, Mullo, and Daizzi fiddling with the speaker and song settings. Xuppu and Roaar were spinning and bouncing in rhythm with the music, tails swaying with glee. Even Longg and Kaalki, always the serious and sometimes uptight, looked like they were enjoying themselves.

“Master Marinette?” Wayzz spoke up from behind Marinette, the seemingly only kwami not partaking in the festivities.

“Hm? Something wrong, Wayzz?” She reached for the chair sitting at the computer, pulling it over and taking a seat as she talked with the turtle. Even in her private time with him, he hadn’t said much.

“Well, Its… uhm… You’re aware I was Master Fu's personal kwami.” He began, settling on one of the miniature cushions. “He wasn’t a perfect guardian. But he tried very hard, and… and he would–,” Wayzz swallowed, fighting emotion. “He would be very proud of you.”

It meant more than she realized it would. When Wayzz looked up to meet his guardians eyes, she was crying again, eyes red and puffy with tears.

“Thank you, Wayzz. I really needed to hear that.” She gave a breathy laugh, happy tears trailing down her cheeks. The turtle kwami flew upwards, pressing himself in a loving hug against the side of her face. Marinette returned it with a cupped palm.

“Its not a real party until theres a group hug!” Barkk yipped from the pretend dance floor, inciting the kwamis to swarm Marinette. They coated her head, arms, and torso, all purring and giggling as they wrapped their tiny limbs around her.

Her first highschool party, and she got to spend it with gods. ---

The idea of going to school felt equivalent to some kind of death sentence. How is she supposed to be the Marinette they had known before? Everything is different now. She is different now.

‘You’re still Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a normal girl with a normal life.’ She reassured herself in thought, but the feeling remained. ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng, guardian of the miraculous, soon to be protector of Paris. Normal girl with a normal life.’

Laying partially awake in bed, her thumb lazily toyed with the miraculous ring that now resided on her pointer. She was quickly falling into the habit of checking to make sure it was still on her hand when she woke up. She found it reassuring. The sun was slowly rising, and was currently settled perfectly to glare through the trapdoor above her bed and into her eyes. Blindingly so. She groaned at the brightness suddenly attacking her vision, but sealing her eyelids shut did little to filter the light.

It was time to get up and get ready anyway. Although, being late was definitely more of a ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’ move. She debated it internally for a few seconds before climbing the ladder from her bed to the floor below. Her parents had been nice enough to let her miss the first week, the least she could do was try to be on time her first day back.

Kwamis were already busy floating throughout the room, each fairly settled into their new routine. It was hard to keep track of them all at once, but they tried to stay near the Miracle Tree as much as possible, which helped. Sass and Wayzz were flying from kwami to kwami, scribbling down drink orders for the morning. Marinette had taught the two how to use the kettle and coffee maker in the kitchen, and had shown them any other beverage options they might want. She trusted the two (seemingly) most responsible kwamis, and had made them promise to only use it if her parents were working in the bakery. Longg and Tikki would be in charge of the remaining kwamis. 

“Finally awake, Pigtails?” The recognizable sour meow rang out through the room as the black cat kwami floated through the air to his holders’ side. His eyes were cloudy with sleep, so he clearly had also ‘finally’ woken up. Marinette was too drowsy to tease, luckily for him.

“Mmm… ‘morning Plagg.” She responded through a lengthy yawn, miraculous wielding hand coming up to cover her gaping mouth. She stood herself in front of her mirror, sleep-disheveled hair in messy knots down her shoulder, and eye bags reflecting back to her in all their glory. In all honesty, she hardly looked like Marinette these days. Even worse, she was starting to think that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Wow! You look like shit.” Plagg chirped, stilling in the air beside Marinette and watching her painstakingly comb through her bed head in the mirror.

“Yeah… I do, don’t I?”

He gave her a weary look before responding, “Don’t worry Kid, that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna brush my hair for me?” Marinette smirked, playfully batting at the kwami with her free hand as she untangled the last sections of dark hair.

“I was thinking more along the lines of supervi—sing… Marinette, what’s wrong?” The cats voice trailed off as he spoke, and he turned from watching her reflection to floating directly in front of her. 

Marinette watched her reflection closely, eyes wide in what looked like shock, maybe confusion. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, like she was grasping for what to say. She settled for, “Nothing, Plagg.” and gathered her loosely strewn hair in a hand.

“Are you sure?” Plagg normally didn’t sound so… concerned. There was nothing to be worried about.

“Yes, Plagg, I’m just getting ready.” She reassured, voice becoming curt with annoyance. The way she spoke had a sharp edge, as did her movements as she pulled and tied her hair behind her head before stepping away from the mirror.

It took barely a second for Plagg to interrupt again. “Hold up!” He was flying through the air again, a black swarm of magic as he blurred in motion. “No pigtails?”

A bun, just a simple, basic, plain ol’ boring bun had replaced her signature matching pigtails, and a light pink hair tie held it in place. Marinette usually tied her hair with ribbons.

“No ribbons, either?”

“Aren’t they a bit… I’dunno, childish?” Her outfit for the day was being pulled from her closet, shirts being thrown aside after being quickly compared to a pair of pink sweatpants. She was doing anything she could to avoid his almost pitiful stare. She didn’t need to be pitied. “I think it’s time I grow up.”

“I didn’t think they were childish.” Plagg mumbled under his breath before flicking his whiskers, like he could shake off the weird energy his holder was putting out. “Well, my nickname for you doesn’t really work anymore.” He sat by idly as she dressed, considering new combinations or phrases that fit the teen.

“Most people just call me Marinette or Mari. When I was little my parents would call me Nette and Nettie.” The latter brought back nostalgic memories of walking through Paris, both her parents' hands in her own smaller grasp. They used to lift her from the ground and swing her through the air with each other step. Now, she wasn’t sure she could even remember the last time one of her parents had picked her up. Not like that really mattered right now, anyway.

“You sure you don’t prefer Master? Maybe ‘Guardian of the Miraculous’ suits you better?”

She rolled her eyes at him before stepping in front of her full length mirror. Hair pulled back in a bun, but otherwise untouched. Her frame was hidden under a thick, heavy gray sweatshirt, which pooled just beneath her shoulders, exposing a black tank top underneath. She had abandoned the sweatpants in favor of an ankle length white skirt. The silver ring on her finger fit in perfectly.

“It could use more black.” Plagg commented, looking her up and down in the reflection. 

Marinette smiled, made her way to her desk beneath her bed, and slipped a black messenger bag off a hook and over her shoulders. Plagg flew through the air to investigate it. After giving a few investigatory sniffs, he smiled and looked up at his holder.

“I’ll allow it.” He slipped inside the bag and curled into a black ball.

“Ready for our first day of school?”

“Your first day. I plan to sleep the whole time.” the black ball huffed without moving.

“Lucky you.”

She waved goodbye to the rest of the kwamis, smiling and nodding at their niceties and wishes for her to have a good first day back. It dawned on her as she left her home and began down the stairs to the bakery that this would be the first real time the kwamis were home alone. Marinette at school, parents in the bakery, they would have free roam of the home.

No, they know better than that. Or at least, Tikki, Sass, Wayzz, and Longg know better than that, and they could be trusted to keep the others in check. Right?

“Kid, don’t worry about them. They’re centuries old gods, they’ll be alright without you for a few hours.”

Marinette pouted her lip. “I wasn’t worrying about them.”

“You’re stopped on the first step and haven’t looked away from that door once.” Plagg yawned and poked his head over the top of her bag, peeking out at their surroundings. “Really, Marinette, they’re gonna be alright. Sugarcube knows how to keep them in line.” He chuckled.

She took a deep breath and continued down the stairs. “Sugarcube, huh? I think I’ve heard you say that before.”

“Little nickname I came up with a few decades ago for my Tikki. Fits her well, huh?”

“Perfectly.”

Plagg popped his head back in the bag as Marinette swung open the stairway door.

The bakery was bustling, as it always was the first morning of the week. People coming and going, buying their pastries and baked goods, or placing orders and grabbing business cards. Monday mornings were always Maris least favorite shift to work. Though she’d be willing to sacrifice her school day for a few hours work in the bakery right now, if her parents would let her.

“Good morning, Marinette! Hurry up to the school, it’s already nine o’clock— Your alarms have been going off for the past fifteen minutes.” Heavy emphasis on the if.

“Right. Sorry, Maman.” She was heading for the bakery doors when her father shouted out from behind her,

“Wait! Look sweetheart, I made you macaroons! You know, to take to school and share with your classmates,” Tom shifted from foot to foot as he spoke, a chunky cardboard box filed with macaroons balanced in his hands. “Since you’ve been- uh— well, you missed that first week and uh…”

Sabine softly jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “She’s already late, Tom.”

“Yeah, uhm, thanks Papa, but I should go��“

“Please, Nette? At the very least it’s… it’s a good conversation starter. You could even show off 

the logo you designed.” He settled on, big bushy eyebrows pushing together in a conceded frown. “I also packed some of those gougeres you asked me to make, in case you wanted one for a snack.”

“Fine, fine, hand it over.” Marinette huffed, cheeks warming at her fathers show of affection. It wasn’t part of the plan, but macaroons can’t exactly hurt, and Plagg was sure to be elated by the pastries. As for designs, she hadn’t touched her sketchbooks since the night at the Pont des Arts, and she wasn’t sure when she’d find time to do so again. Designing wasn’t a priority right now. She took the box from her dad, was decently surprised by its moderate weight, and placed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye, love you guys.” 

She hovered by the door a second more before deciding to add, 

“Also, my room is a mess, cause of a– uh, new… science project… so, um, just please don’t go in there. I’ll clean it when I get home. Bye!” Then jumped out the door before they could question her.

Perusing through the treats her father had sent with her, Marinette started towards the neighboring school. She had always viewed her home's proximity to the school as a burden, like some kind of curse. It meant everyone knew where the weirdo-klutz-baker girl— a favored victim of the Bourgeois— lived, and with her own bad luck, it always meant she was late. Daily.

Popping a lemon macaroon in her mouth, Marinette ascended the school stairs and considered the thought that maybe being late every day wasn’t the worst possible thing.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t the ridiculous, dusty, dirty baker girl, late as always.” Speak of the devil. Suddenly the tangy lemon flavor turned as bitter and foul as the blonde bully. “Y’know, I was really hoping you had dropped out Dupain-Cheng. Only you would miss the entire first week of high school, and have the balls to show your face right in front of me.”

Chloe stood, waiting for her prey, tucked behind the large entrance doors to the school yard. She wore an expensive, brand name dress that began with a warm yellow and slowly turned to a rosy orange as it flowed down her body. Her patent white and gold themed sunglasses hung from a hand at her hip while the other twirled a pale lock of hair. Hovering just behind her, as always, was Sabrina. Her very own henchman.

Marinette bit back the growing retort bubbling inside of her. Fighting with Chloe was almost entirely the opposite of the plan. “Yup, I’m back from the dead. Could I get to class now?”

Her attacker blinked, before scoffing and drawing her face into a scowl. She threw the sunglasses to the girl behind her, pushed a manicured nail against Marinettes chest, and used the other to smack the box of treats from her hands. “No, you can’t go to class, your pathetic ass shouldn’t have even come to school! I’m the boss of this whole loser school, and now that I finally got Adrien out of that despicable home, I won’t allow you to ruin it for me! For us!”

Marinette was about to ask who this ‘Adrien’ person was, when a new voice chimed in, smothered in ridicule. “Wow, Chloe, I knew you were a bitch but this takes the cake even for you. If you’re the ‘boss’ around here, why have I heard at least seven people refer to you as ‘Blondezilla’?” Now at Marinette's side, with an arm slung around her shoulder, the third girl stood nonchalantly with an award winning, shit-eating grin beaming at Chloe. “I’m gonna guess you’ll say they’re fired, utterly fired!”

Chloe’s face began turning a violent shade of red as she glared daggers at the two girls, mouth opening and closing as she fumbled with a response. “Mind your own business, four-eyes.” She spat out at the girl, reaching out a hand to flick the lens of her glasses.

“Ouch, you wound me,” The girl thumped a fist against her chest, as if she’d been hit by an invisible weapon. Then she wagged a finger at the bullies and said, “If anything that just makes me feel even more sorry for Sabrina back there.”

The sweater vested, red headed girl cowering behind Chloe ignored the comment, opting instead to fidget with her own glasses and have a strict staring contest with the floor. Sabrina said nothing as she studied her shoes.

“If you had any idea what’s good for you, you’d shut up, Césaire.” Chloe’s words came out as a hiss through gritted teeth.

“If only, Bourgeois.”

With a final sneer, Chloe turned and walked away, followed by her henchman and the tic-tac of her shoes against the concrete. Leaving behind Marinette, and her mysterious savior.

“Thanks.” She said as she bent down to gather the box and its contents Chloe had spilled across the floor. Thankfully, a few macaroons had been spared, and the gougeres had been placed in their own packaging within the box.

“No problem. You’re, uh— fuck what was it… Mariette? Right? I’ve heard a lot about you in the past week. Everyone here missed you, a lot.” She stuck out a welcoming hand, helping her stand up. “My name's Alya, I’m a new student in your class.” Alya had warm brown skin, and thick, brown, curly hair down to her shoulders. The ends of her hair were dyed a soft orange-red color, and resting on the bridge of her nose were thick black glasses frames.

‘You haven’t heard enough to get my name right, apparently.’ She thought in passing annoyance before clearing her head with a soft shake. “It’s Marinette, nice to meet you Alya.” She shook Alyas hand with a polite smile. “Thanks for standing up for me, but you don’t have to. Chloe just likes making my life miserable, so I’m used to her bullshit by now. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“That’s because you let her, duh! It’s stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

Alya flinched back. “Sorry, that was kind of a mean way to say it, but it’s true. Have you ever heard the quote, ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.’?” She didn’t wait for a response as she continued, “Its from the greatest superhero ever, Majestia. It means a lot of things, but I like think the most important are; leaving or ignoring someone in need of help will only fuck everyone over in the end, the only way to take down a bad guy is doing it yourself, and if someone’s being a dick you’re allowed to make fun of them for it.”

Marinette blinked, stunned by what she’d just heard. She was not expecting some kind of lesson on the ‘triumphs of evil’ this early in the morning, or from someone taller than a soda can. ‘Alya and the kwamis would be sure to get along.’ She thought for a second before sighing, “I can understand that, but still. I don’t need a new student getting caught up in my drama.”

“Are you kidding?! Please let me get involved in your drama! I’m well aware I don’t need to, I want to.” Alya slung her arm across Marinette's shoulder again, slithered a hand into the box of treats, and returned victorious with a pomegranate macaroon between her fingers. She took a bite and smiled, “That’s what friends do. Friends, right?”

Marinette froze, the question bumbling around her brain. The light kick to her side from her bag told her Plagg thought she’d be stupid to decline, but the word ‘Yes’ wouldn’t quite come out. “Acquaintances, for now. Let’s see how the rest of today goes.”

Alyas eyes widened with surprise, then she looked at the half eaten sweet she was holding, and back to Marinette. The panic and mild guilt was evident in her expression, eliciting a genuine laugh and smile from Marinette.

“Have as many as you want, don’t worry about it. The baked goods don't cost any kind of friendship.” She said, opening the box lid as an offering. Alya helped herself, plucking another three macaroons from its confines. “I should probably get going to class.”

“You mean we.” Alya added quickly.

“Hm?”

“We should probably get going to class. I’m with Mme. Bustier too.”

“Oh, right.” Marinette yawned, still tired from her extensive learning and practice throughout the past week. She took a nibble of another macaroon, this one, strawberry. “I keep forgetting everyone else started last week. I know it’s not that long ago, but— I don’t know— I feel like an intruder. It’s weird.” She said as they began walking through the quickly clearing school yard.

“I’d feel the same way if blondie treated me like that the moment I stepped foot in the school. Don’t get me wrong, she hasn't been friendly, but she's been nowhere near as mean to me as she was to you today.”

“Yet.”

“Yeah, yet.” Alya waved a hand in the air, like she could shoo away the idea of Chloe. “Anyway, don’t let her get under your skin. This is your school too, same way it’s mine.”

Marinette's eyes stayed glued to her feet as they climbed the stairs and headed for the classroom door. “I’m not worried about Chloe anymore. I have bigger problems under my skin to deal with already. I just want school to be school.”

“You…do know this is the start of high school, right? A.K.A the period of time people make entire movies, shows, and books about?” Alya questioned in a teasing manner before swinging open the door and stepping into the busy atmosphere. “The dramas going to happen anyway, might as well try to enjoy it!”

No one stopped to acknowledge their entrance, no burning stares turned onto Marinette and no one was whispering about why she was only just now starting school. ‘Maybe it’s a bit egotistical, thinking everyone in class would spend all their time thinking about you.’ She thought, taking another bite of her macaroon and timidly following Alya to an open table, towards the front-right part of the room.

Alya took her seat and excitedly patted the space beside her for her new acquaintance. “I was told to save you a spot last week.”

Marinette paused, casting a glance around the room at the bustling students and landing on a table in the second row, on the left side of the room. Where she had sat through all of last year, with Soqueline. Now Chloe and her drone resided in those seats, while Nino and…some new blonde boy took up the table in front of them. Marinette gave Nino a sympathetic frown, though he wasn’t looking anywhere near her. He hated sitting in the front of the class.

“Earth to Marinette!” Alya snapped her fingers mere inches away from Marinette's nose, capturing her lost attention. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry. I try not to, just get lost in thought.” Marinette inspected her new spot, noticing the small addition her table mate had added. A bright pink sticky note that read ��MLLE. DUPAIN-CHENG’ was stuck onto the back, like she had reserved it ahead of time.

“Fancy, huh?” Alya asked, eyebrows jumping up and down with amusement. It was easy to see she found herself hilarious.

“How much did the reservation cost?”

“You don't want to know.”

Marinette rolled her eyes playfully and took her seat with a smile. “I think it's very fancy, thank you Alya.” She removed the sticky note from the back of the chair, folding it carefully to tuck away for later. As she fiddled with the small paper, her attention wandered around the classroom. 

Juleka and Rose, sitting together like always, although now with a lot less space between one another. Mylene and Ivan were on opposite sides of the room, but it didn’t stop him from stealing quick glances at her. Kim and Alix were arguing about who’d win in an arm wrestle, while Max provided the possible outcomes of said wrestling match. At the back of the classroom, Nathaniel was bent protectively over his sketchbook as he drew. She watched him for a few moments before her gaze went back to the table she used to occupy, and its two newest occupants.

Alya stared at her with a weary look, before tapping her shoulder in quick repetition. “I get that he’s handsome, and a famous model, but you can’t be into him that fast, girl.”

Marinette looked back at her, one eyebrow arched in complete confusion and her mouth hanging open, awaiting an explanation.

“Weren’t you just gawking at Adrien?”

Adrien? Adrien. Adrien! “That’s Chloe's boytoy or whatever, yeah?” She questioned, swiveling her head back to the two boys across from them, trying to catch a glimpse of the blonde one— Adrien’s— face.

For a model, his outfit lacked any kind of style. An open, white button up overtop a cool gray shirt. A boring  teal pair of pants, though they were leaning more towards a turquoise. And to top it off, orange converse that burned into her memory like a red, hot branding iron. She could ignore all that though, because of his face. His resplendent expression. His laugh that made her tune out any other noise. His golden hair that looked like he’d been blessed by King Midas himself.

He was definitely handsome, and he was definitely a model. Adrien Agreste, famous model and teen heart-throb, son of the beloved late actress Emilie Agreste and the globally revered fashion designer Gabriel Agreste— one of Marinette's idols in the world of design—, was a new student in her class. She’d have recognized him faster if he’d been wearing one of the famous designs he’d so often advertise, but that wasn’t exactly conventional school attire.

“She’s dating him?”

“It definitely seems that way from her behavior, but the first day she made a big deal about how she and her ‘Adrikins’ are childhood best friends. They practically grew up together, so they’re family to each other. She said something about having to convince Adrien’s dad to let him attend public school for the first time, called him ‘Uncle Gabe’ or something.” Alya said with a nonchalant shrug. “But that did all come from Chloe, so take it with a grain of salt.”

“What the fuck.” Marinette stated with blunt disbelief, making Alya burst out laughing. “That’s literally Adrien Agreste. I had no clue they were so close— shit, I didn’t even know he was going to the same school as me, until now.” Marinette sat back in shock, mind running through all his fathers designs she’d looked up to over the years. “No wonder she took my seat.”

Alya gave her a quizzical stare, one that said ‘Do you not see the amazing chair you’re currently sitting in?’

“For all of eighth grade, me and my best friend sat where Chloe and Sabrina are right now. I thought they’d taken it just to bother me, but I guess even Chloe takes a break from her evil ways.” She explained “I know it’s kind of ridiculous, but I was honestly looking forward to having that seat again. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Only when you compare that seat to your new fabulous one!” Alya joked, but quickly recoiled when Marinette didn’t laugh in return. “Sorry. That’s not ridiculous, if I’d known I would have reserved that spot instead.”

That one did make Marinette chuckle. “I’ll live, but I appreciate the thought.” She rubbed the iridescent ring with her thumb, eyeing the flower centerpiece. “Anyways, it’s like I said earlier. I have bigger problems than Chloe Bourgeois.”

The bell rang out, and class began, cutting off the conversation. The rest of the day passed along at a sluggish rate, each hour-and-a-half long class slowly boring Marinette to death. Mme. Mendeleiev had rambled on and on about the periodic table without even pausing for air, M. D’Argencourt made the class run laps all period long because Kim wouldn’t stop cracking jokes, and to top it all off, Plagg had eaten all the gougeres by the time lunch eventually came around. So, she sat with Alya, sharing a few pieces of her lunch.

“How do your parents run a bakery, and you don’t have lunch for school?” Alya teased as she ripped open a small bag of salted potato chips, then popped one in her mouth.

“Poor time management skills.” Marinette shrugged, reaching over and snatching a chip for herself. “When we were in second or third grade, Chloe used to steal my lunches.”

“That’s so fucked.”

Marinette let out a small laugh, “Right? Jokes on her though, my mom would make me traditional chinese meals. Imagine eight year old Chloe eating tofu for the first time.”

Alya snorted at the thought, then looked around the room with realization. “Speaking of, where is she? She almost always comes to bother me at lunch.” ---

Public school was almost nothing like he had expected. Even after everything Chloe had told him throughout all the years, nothing would have prepared him. It was… weird being recognized in public. The first day people had flocked around him in crowds, all pleading for pictures and autographs. When class began, he would mess up attendance out of pure confusion, or he’d get lost trying to find a book in the library. Adrien stuck out from the rest of the class like a sore thumb, even though he had joined at the beginning of the school year like everyone else.

Truth be told, he mostly had himself to blame for the latter problem. After a week of his childhood friend endlessly berating his father, Adrien had been allowed to attend school. He had stayed by Chloe’s side each day like she was his security blanket, and when he wasn’t stuck to her, she was undoubtedly stuck to him. Walking beside him in every hallway, sitting beside him in every class they had together, and practically hissing at anyone that approached them.

The other students had been nice enough, asked his name if they hadn’t already known it, and said good morning when they passed by, but they all seemed a bit weary of him. Like he was someone to avoid, to be scared of. Someone you didn’t want to be around. It wasn’t the impression Adrien had been wanting to give.

Despite that, he had made one new friend. In Mme. Bustiers class, a person besides Chloe finally took the seat beside him. Granted, it was because he was assigned to sit there, but he was next to Adrien nonetheless. Nino had been closed off for the first half of that beginning week, but he had slowly come around to the new boy. What started with frustrated grumbles about being moved to the front of the room and untrusting side eyes, slowly turned to sharing music recommendations and watching videos together in the mornings before class began. Adrien wasn’t sure what he’d done to get on Nino's good side, but he was happy to have him as a friend.

Chloe wasn’t as thrilled about sitting behind the two of them, but it wasn’t enough to stir her to action. She still got to be near Adrien, and she had Sabrina right at her side. Not to mention, it was a… refreshing break from her constant presence. Sometimes Adrien felt like her very own real life Mr. Cuddly, the stuffed bear Chloe has clung to since they were toddlers. He preferred when they felt more like cousins, siblings even.

That's what made him wander back to the classroom early, with a handful of minutes for lunch still to spare. Chloe was nowhere to be seen the entire meal, which in Adriens experience, meant only bad things were happening.

He came straight up to the door, then leaned his head carefully against it to listen inside. After a few silent seconds, he slowly opened the door– just an inch– taking the utmost care to remain silent.

Chloe was perched atop the table where Marinette and Alya sat, with Sabrina kneeling on the ground by her feet. “Ready?” she asked the girl accompanying her.

She nodded, to which Chloe fished the gum out of her mouth and into her friends' waiting hands. Sabrina carefully took the chewed wad of gum, obviously hesitant to even touch it, and practically threw it onto the seat. She pressed her thumb against it, then smeared the sticky substance across the surface. Her eyebrows were quivering with nerves as she did so.

“Perfect, Brina! God, this is going to be so funny.” Chloe clapped her hands in quick succession as she praised, voice thick with amusement.

“Chloe? What are you doing to Marinette's seat?” Adrien interrupted, stepping inside the classroom with a concerned expression. The two girls turned to look at him, first both in surprise, then one in guilt and the other is annoyance.

“I'm just commanding a little respect from certain brats. Go back outside, Adrikins, you’re not involved in this.” Chloe rolled her eyes as she disregarded him.

“What? How is this about respect?” Adrien asked, walking closer to the bench. He kneeled beside Sabrina, nudging aside Chloe to reach the tampered chair. “I thought you were above childish pranks, Chlo.” He frowned at her, inspecting the gummy seat with a cautious hand.

“I’m not above anything when it comes to Dupain-Cheng.” She grumbled in response, but made no effort to stop the boy.

“Nino told me about your weird vendetta against her. Is she that girl in all those stories you’ve told me? The one that you say hates you?” Adrien huffed, now prodding at the gum with a tissue covered finger.

Chloe shuffled her feet uneasily in response.

“I thought so. I love you Chloe, but the only brat I see here is you.”

The classroom door swung open behind them, followed by an exasperated gasp. Before Adrien could turn and open his mouth to explain, Alya had pulled him from the floor, first clenched into the neck of his shirt. The rest of their class stood behind her in the doorway, eagerly watching.

“What are you blonde bitches doing now?!” She demanded. Chloe stepped back, shielding behind Sabrina as Adrien was ambushed. Seeing Alyas' furious expression only made the two girls laugh.

“I wasn’t—!” He began, only to get interrupted.

“Oh, really mature you three. Gum in her seat! What’s next, gonna start pulling her hair and stealing her lunch too?” Alya shoved him backwards with a pointed look at Chloe, throwing the boy into Ninos arms, who jumped to his defense.

“Woah, woah! He didn’t do anything, Adrien’s a good dude, alright? Just hear him out.” The taller boy argued, helping to steady his friend with two hands on his shoulders. Adrien shot him a grateful smile.

“I saw it with my own eyes, he was literally sticking it to her chair when we walked—”

“I was trying to remove it!” Adrien stressed, hands raising to pinch and pull at the back of his neck. A nervous habit he’d developed since Maman passed.

“See, he was just trying to help.”

“We didn’t ask for his help.” Alya was inches away from Ninos face, with clenched fists at the ready by her sides.

Marinette stepped behind her, hand tugging gently at her arm in an attempt to alleviate the tension. “It’s fine, Alya. The damage is already done anyways, just leave it.” She whispered into her ear, eyes glued to the two boys. Adrien stared back at her, his eyes a mixture of cautious hope and guilt-racked pity. Even if he was telling the truth, and removing the gum, part of him still felt responsible for it.

Alya gave her a unsure side eye, but ultimately heaved a frustrated sigh. “Fine, fine. Just get out of our way.” She huffed, waving away the two boys with a scornful glare. Nino gave her a weary look before leading Adrien away to their respective bench.

The growing crowd of students dispersed, settling into their own seats with nosy whispers as the passing period transitioned to an end. Marinette reached down to inspect her side of the bench, now ruined with seemingly invulnerable gum, and frowned as she quickly gathered tissues to layer over top of it.

“I’ll clean it off, I swear.” Alya said, reading her expression. She reached out a hand to rest on Marinette's shoulder in a friendly gesture, something that said ‘I’m sorry, that sucked.’ or ‘Don’t worry, it’s okay.’, neither of which Marinette needed to hear.

“Don't worry about it.” She sighed, taking her seat with great care to avoid the gum. "Thanks for standing up for me again, Alya." Marinette turned to look at the girl as she took her seat beside her, "You're a good friend."

Alyas mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise, then spread into a big smile. She hooked an arm around her new friends hip, and pulled her into a tight bear-hug. "Of course, girl!" ---

Normally, rain wouldn’t deter her from the quick minute long jog across the street to her home. But this was a steady downpour, bringing fat drops that bounced off your head like marbles. Dirty water pooled at the curbside and threatened to flood the streets. A few seconds out under the clouds would waterlog her, undoubtedly.

Accompanying the constant drumming of the rain was the frequent crack and boom of thunder in the distance, paired with a bright flash of lightning. Each time another light struck, it would reflect from the sky onto the wet pavement, followed by the familiar thundering clap ringing out soon after.

It was the kind of storm Marinette would love, were she nestled away safely in her room, watching through a closed window. Now, all she could think of was that she hadn’t asked if any of the kwamis were scared of loud storms. Dogs will sometimes freak out from thunder, could Barkk be cowering under her bed? Was Daizzi rolling in mud puddles outside, forgetful of the rules Marinette had put in place?

Suffice to say, some separation anxiety had blossomed in her weeks with the kwamis.

“Marinette?”

She jumped in surprise, somehow managing to suppress an involuntary squeak. Adrien stood behind her, inquisitive expression burning holes through Marinette's skin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Adrien.” He stuck out a hand in greeting, eyes never wavering from her face.

She squirmed under his direct gaze. “I know you're Adrien. Do you need something?” She asked quietly, avoiding meeting his eyes with her own. Briefly, she considered whether or not ruining her sweater in the rain was worth the escape after all.

“Oh, no, no, I— Well, I just— I just wanted to say sorry.” He stumbled over his words, clearly struggling with what to say. When it became clear she wasn't going to shake his hand, it anxiously found its way back to his neck. “For the gum, and not explaining properly, and… Chloe. I know she’s been horrible to you.”

Marinette watched in silent awe, not daring to speak. Bullies didn’t often apologize in her experience.

“For what it’s worth, I really was trying to remove it. Chloe isn’t perfect, believe me, I know that better than a lot of people— Well, probably not you— and…and she can be childish and petty, but I can't throw her under the bus. I know she can be good too,” Adrien rambled, free hand motioning in the space between them. “Before last week, I had never been to school before. Because I’ve known her since we were little kids, Chloe had been my only friend. She was the one that was able to convince my father to let me go to school.”

The rain continued in the background. What had been a persistent pounding of water against earth was turned into white noise around him.

“The only new friend I’ve made is Nino, and I don’t even know how I managed that.” He chuckled, pulling aside his bag and taking an umbrella from it. “It’s all sorta new to me, you know? I’m still trying to figure it out.” he opened the umbrella and peeked out to the street. “Is your ride getting here soon?”

“I-I’m walk... doing walk—The walking thing — Me t-that. No car.” The word vomit poured forth without control, leaving Marinette in a daze. What had she just said? Doing the walking thing?

Somehow, it didn’t affect Adrien. He looked up at the still darkening clouds with a frown, “You’re going to get drenched if you’re walking.” They stood in silence for a few moments, the only sound between them being the timely rumble of thunder. Then, a sleek, dark gray limo pulled to the school's curb, fitting neatly over the intimidating puddle. Adrien pursed his lips in thought, then stuck out his hand, with the umbrella in his grip. “I think you need this more than me.”

Marinette blinked in confusion, eyes bouncing between the outstretched hand and its owner's face. “No, I’m-I… it’s just a-a cute— quick walk, really, I—”

“Consider it an offering of friendship!” He pressed the handle to her palm before she could refuse anymore than she already had, then turned, raised his bag over his head, and ran out into the storm. It was like he passed through a waterfall, the way the rain soaked him through in a few seconds. Halfway to the fancy car, he looked back over his shoulder, rain water dripping from his hair despite the desperate cover he’d attempted. “It was nice to meet you, Marinette!” He shouted over the hissing of the rain.

Her eyes wide, still in shock, Marinette opened her mouth to yell back, maybe something like ‘Thanks, Adrien! I forgive you!’ or ‘Do I need to give this back?’, when the umbrella folded inward on her. A loud burst of laughter followed, and when she raised the plastic covering from her eyes, Adrien was standing at the open car door with a delighted smile, taking his time in the downpour. He raised a hand, waved goodbye, then climbed in the limo to the tune of his disgruntled chauffeurs complaints.

“Hello, Adrien, how was your day? Who is that girl there?” Nathalie asked politely from the front seat, eyes fixed on him through the rear view mirror. His bodyguard grumbled and frowned, grumpy about the soggy teenager sitting in his pristine backseat, but pulled the car back out into the road and back to the Agreste mansion.

“My day was incredible, Nathalie. That’s Marinette, a new friend of mine.” He said, eyes filled with joy.

“That’s wonderful, Adrien. I’m happy to hear you’re doing well in all aspects of school.” She praised, then turned her attention back to the tablet in her hands. ---

Marinette waved a shaky goodbye, which continued long after the limo pulled away and out of sight. With a long— and exaggeratedly loud— stretch, Plagg flew from her bag to float by her side. “First day back and you’ve already found yourself a boyfriend! Good job picking a rich one, it’s exactly what I woulda done.” He purred with an affectionate tease.

“No, no, no. No way. He’s—He’s just a friend, and that’s it, and that’s all he is! I do not have a crush on him. I don’t.” Marinette's brain instantly went into panic mode, alarms ringing off in her head at the idea. She had no time for romances, she barely had time for friendships.

Plagg flicked his tail from side to side, saying nothing, but staring her down with an eyebrow that said ‘Really?’

“I don’t!” She insisted, umbrella waving wildly as she motioned with her entire body. Marinette let out a long, frustrated groan, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she let it out, she turned back to Plagg, face serious and focused. “The miraculous has to come first. Above everything else, everything, I need to be the guardian and the black cat.”

She walked forward without waiting for an answer, umbrella partially shielding her and her kwami from the rain as she made for the bakery across the street. The stoic expression plastered on her face was a good try, but the way her eyes kept darting back to the street the gray limo had sped away on was betraying her thoughts.

“I ever tell you how brave you are, Kid?”

“You can tell me once I’ve beaten my first akuma.”

The bakery door swung open with the sing-songy ‘Ting!’ of its bell, announcing a visitor. With a storm like that, it was no wonder the bakery was empty of any costumers, and Marinette quickly made her way up to her home. Inside the living room, her parents were cuddled on the couch, both asleep in front of a long ended movie.

“Now I see where you get it from. What a bunch of lovebirds.” Plagg gagged quietly from beside his holder.

She shot him an exhausted glare, silencing anymore playful attempts on his behalf. Marinette gently laid a blanket across her parents, turned off the tv, and climbed the stairs to her room.

Inside was a mess. Craft supplies and decorations were scattered across the floor, the cat pillow she kept in her bed was propped at the computer like a person, and the kwamis were wreaking utter havoc. Some swinging from light fixtures and railings, others painting and drawing on the pale pink walls, and she thought she saw some quickly hide a game of cards.

Not as bad as she had imagined.

Tikki flew to her guardian with urgency, face fraught with worry. “Oh, Marinette, I’m so, so sorry! We tried to keep them all in line but—”

“Master Fu would contain us all within the miracle box for this very reason! Some kwamis are not to be trusted on their lonesome!” Longg interjected, his usually calm face pulled down into a disappointed frown.

“We will clean it all, don’t worry, young Marinette.” Sass reassured her with a solemn expression.

Marinette nodded, observing the state of her room. It would take a few hours, if not an entire day, to bring back to its original state. “Everyone’s inside, all safe, no worries?”

The kwamis she had left in charge looked between each other before the bug spoke up, “Well, yes, but—”

“Then it’s okay. Just—just clean it all up, and it’s okay. You guys did a good job being in charge.” Marinette complimented with a smile, then walked across the room to her desk, and to the bonsai set atop it, just beside her sewing machine. She pulled it forward, studying it as it sat in front of her. The Miracle Tree had sprouted a few new buds of growth. “Are you ready, Tikki?”

“Do you think it’s time?” Tikki chirped, flying into place above the plant. She must be so impatient, so antsy without her old guardian and no new holder, yet she hadn’t made a single complaint. Marinette thought of how she would manage being guardian without the little bugs support in her ear. It was going to be hard without her.

“Yeah, I do.” She decided, fingernails digging into her palms. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. Tikki flew effortlessly through the yin-yang symbol marked in the tree stump, phasing through the wood with a hazy pink light. She reappeared moments later, small jewelry case in hand. Marinette took it slowly, hesitant to remove the earrings from the safety of the tree, scared to let them out into the world where she couldn’t hide them away. 

Still, that was one job she couldn’t do herself. “I need a ladybug holder, and fast.”

[poppinspops]

Can you pretty please make a story on Peter pan x reader (female reader) who is a crew mate of captan hook enemies to lovers (before or after wendy visited neverland) and how she's kinda a younger sister to captain hook and his crew? And how she might have to choose Peter pan or her found family in the end (choose whichever ending you want)

Take my hand

Paring: Peter pan x pirate!Reader

Genere: Hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers

Warning: none just my writing loll and spelling/Grammer mistakes as always!

A/N: GOSH THIS WAS A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE. ALSO, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!!! Listening to the crane wives whilst writing this so if you know their music u know this isn't gonna be happy.

You had decided to go on a stroll as it was a nice day out, and you had wanted to get away from the crew for a bit to have some peace and quiet

As you walked on the beach near the boat, taking in just how beautiful neverland could be when there wasn't an annoying flying pesk, always trying to get you to leave behind your pirate life and to join him be a lost girl.

But you always declined his offers as you couldn't possibly leave the people who took you in with open arms when you had nothing but the clothes on your back and your heart. You promised you'd never leave them, and you never broken a promise before and don't intend to now

So why are you now thinking back on all those times he's offered to make you a part of his family?

Why did those little words always leave your mind frazzled, cheeks red, the snarky remarks you were going to make died in your mouth until the only thing you could manage to get out was a rude no.

but you where brought out of your thoughts by a loud shout of your name, hook, followed by to another yell at you return back to the ship, making you sigh a small smile dancing on your lips as and turn around making your way back to the ship

But you turned quickly back around at the sound of that pixie, your hand flying to your sword that was in its scabbard, taking it out and ponting it at pan that was standing behind you the sword pointing at his throat now

That boyish smirk that always seemed to be on his face was there as always as he spoke, "Have you given it more thought?" Jumping back as your sword swung at him

Peter eventually, after dodging your swings, took out his sword from its scabbard and swung it at you. Your eyes widened as you rather Messily raised your sword quickly, blocked it with your own sword

You weren't expecting how hard that collision from the swords was until you were knocked off of your feet by the forced making you fall onto the sand sword flying out of your hand to your left side

Peter put the sword back into its scabbard on his side, taking big strides towards you, looking down at you from your new spot on the sand. "Come with me," was all peter said, looking at you with a calculating gaze

You watched his face with an unreadable expression on your face. You got up dusting yourself off of any sand that was still on your person walking away from him to grab your sword him following after you with furrowed brows

"Leave me alone, pan.." you muttered, getting your sword that had landed near the shore line where the water met the sand, wiping it off with your sleeve before placing it back into its scabbard before turning to face pan again "you already know my answer. It hasn't changed." You said as your hand unconsciously went over your scabbard

He gave you that look he always did looks confused on why you just wouldn't go with him no matter how hard he tried but of course he always held that childish hope with him his confused and almost hurt look turned one of determination "Than I'll continue to try! We have all the time in the world, I have all of the time in the world to try and get you to come with me."

Peter pan had that stupid smile on his face, that fairy finally decided to come back landing on his shoulder staring at you as you shook your head at him a smile tugging at your lips at his strange unwavering determination that never ceased to amaze you truly.

You took a step forward towards him leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek before quickly turning away from the boy leaving him standing there in the sand as hurriedly walked back to the ship cheeks turning a deep red color

Pan raised a hand to his cheek eyes wide, a smile taking over his face as he stood there, the fairy just crossed her arms and huffed but Peter pan ignored the angry fairy on his shoulder as he replayed that moment again

Maybe one day you'd except his offer, taking his hand in yours and running off with him one day

But for now, he was peter Pan, a lost boy, and you were just you, a pirate, one of Hooks' crew mates, and Peter pans sworn enemy.