#Watched under Paris while knitting it the other day

[kaiyonohime]

Now officially past row one hundred! Not halfway yet, but more than a third. Each set of rows takes more than an hour, so it's going to be a while before I hit halfway. And, apparently, the bind off will be rather involved as well.

But row one hundred, yay!

No clue how I'm going to block it when I'm done. I mean yes, I know how to physically block it and I have the space. But how to do it with a one year old running around and helping I don't know. So that will be the true ultimate challenge.

Probably just ask my mother-in-law if I can block it at her place, and then leave it for a day or two to dry. That should work.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut. the famous banana skirt is mildly NSFW.]

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

[blackboxtheater]

Perhaps a mumpearl as Olympic athletes for the inktober prompts :D!! I always imagine mumbo would be a cyclist of some kind and pearl might be some sort of swimmer/diver ?! ( that is like our number one Olympic sport after all),, feel free to do whatever with this tho :D

Sorry anon, I took like two thirds of your prompt and the other third.....went in a different direction. But maybe I'll write another drabble where Mumbo is an athlete because we need more Jock!Mumbo representation in this world.

Modern AU, Olympic Diver Pearl x Sports Photographer Mumbo, meet cute chaos, Paris 2024 games

The thing no one tells you about the Olympics, is how much free time you end up having.

Before your event it's all a frantic haze of nerves and training and excitement and practice and adrenaline and press and even more nerves. But before you know it, you're standing on a podium, hair still dripping wet from the diving well, overwhelmed with more emotions than you thought possible as you watch your flag rise towards the rafters even if there's another national anthem echoing off the walls of the Olympic Aquatic center as it goes.

But a silver medal is still fantastic. Pearl is more than satisfied with her dive in the finals and it takes another two days for the fact that she's an Olympic champion in the 10 meter platform dive to sink in. 

The problem is that even after all that, there are still 8 more days until the closing ceremonies.

8 days is a long time, and you know what they say about idle hands.

"That's a great shot of you, Pearl, did you see this?" Skizz flips his phone screen around across the table in the Olympic Village dining hall, flashing an Instagram post in front of Pearl.

She barley has time to register the photo before the other half of the Australian men's synchronized diving team plops his breakfast down next to Skizz.

"What are you two looking at?" Impulse asks, and then the picture is gone as Skizz pulls it back to the other side of the table to show Impulse.

"Oh yeah, that’s a great photo. You should save that one," he nods in agreement, looking at Skizz's phone even as he starts to peel the wrapper off his muffin without looking down at his hands.

"I didn’t even really get to see- you know just send me the link." Pearl tosses out because just then Tango emerges from the crowd of athletes to join them for breakfast. Then Gem texts her about going to watch a women's beach volleyball match under the Eiffel Tower later that day and Scott stop by their table to trade for another Australia pin and Pearl completely forgets about the conversation and the photo in the general chaos of life in the Olympic village.

She doesn't even remember the conversation until the next day as waits for Tango's turn in the qualifying rounds of the men's 3 meter springboard. Should she be scrolling through Instagram while sitting in the stands for the Olympics? Probably not. But there are so many divers at this stage, and Tom Daly is sitting 10 rows ahead of her knitting an entire sweater, so she doesn’t feel that bad. 

So she opens the link that Skizz sent her and starts to flick though the pictures in the post. It’s a pretty generic wrap up of the Australian Olympic team's happenings; a cool cycling action shot, an athlete hugging his girlfriend in the stands, a misty eyed gold medalist on the podium. The usual. 

But there is it.

Buried in the middle of the carousal.

A shot of Pearl, her fingers just touching the water as she finishes her silver medal winning dive.

The boys were right.

It is a really good photo.

Pearl can probably count on one hand the number of good photos that exist of her diving. Hell, she can probably count on one hand the number of good photos that exist of anyone diving.

Diving is a sport of marvelous precision and grace that does not translate well in photography. It turns out that flipping and twisting your body at high speeds as you plummet towards the earth results in a lot of photos with weird faces and strange contortions. Not to mention whatever is usually happening with her hair.

But there is none of that awkwardness in this photo.

Instead it’s just the single clean line of Pearl's body pulled taught just before she slices into the water. Even in the photo she can feel the tension in her muscles as she arches her back, the momentum of her body as it races towards the water, the anticipation of an impact as her fingertips make the tiniest hints of a splash as they break the surface of the water.

It's gives her the incredible feeling of motion captured in stillness.

She's so engrossed in the picture she almost misses Tango's distinct shock of red and bleach blonde hair on the diving board until the announcer calls his name.

He has a great dive, not that she would expect anything less from the Olympic veteran. But what she notices most as she watches Tango effortlessly slip below the water is the wall of lenses beyond him on the other side of the pool.

She wonders if the photographer who took her picture is over there. She wonders, out of the sea of cameras clicking along the pool deck, which one it was.

Under any other circumstance, maybe that would have been it. A stray thought and some idle curiosity. Pearl would have saved the photo to post in her Olympics wrap up photo dump, and moved on.

Except for the next 3 days, she has nothing to do but sit in the stands of the Olympic Aquatics center, watching her friends dive for a few seconds at a time before going back to just staring at the wall of camera lenses right in front of her.

She cannot stop thinking about that photo.

So it starts off simple enough. First she checks the post for a photo credit and learns exactly how little a generic link to Getty Images will tell you about the actual photographer.

Then she does some some Google searches. Then some some. Then she falls down a lot of internet rabbit holes, and complains a lot about said searches and rabbit holes to all of her friends.

If her friends weren't also drowning in free time after finishing their events, maybe that would have been it. A series of forgotten mindless conversations over the chatter of Olympic crowds under the hot Parisian sun.

Except Gem's boredom manifests in her dragging everyone she's ever met to every event she can get tickets for, which is how Pearl meets False at an equestrian event neither of them really understand. And as they watch the horses conduct nearly identical jumps one after another, Pearl recounts the long, circuitous, frustrating saga of trying to track down this elusive photographer.

"Stress might be able to help you find out," False offers, glancing over at Pearl as she fans herself with a folded up event program.

"Who?"

"Stress. She's…" and Pearl follow where False is pointing with the edge of her program to an announcer tucked up inside one of the press booths. Even from here Pearl can see the woman in the vivid magenta suit jacket gesticulating wildly, her curly brown hair crushed in the center by a headset that appears to have large fake flowers stuck all over it.

"She's here with BBC. I've known her since the London Games I think? Maybe she knows how all that works," False shrugs.

If Pearl had literally anything better to do that afternoon, maybe that would have been it. A missed connection of friends of friends that she forgot about.

Except Pearl has no plans for the rest of the day other than drinking her body weight in champagne, so she convinces False to wait until all the horses are done competing, and then she drags False over to the press section to make the introduction.

It turns out that Stress Monster, equestrian legend and BBC announcer darling, does not, in fact, know how any of that works.

But she does know Iskall, who is either a Swedish language translator, a global media executive, a camera operator, or just a parent watching his stepson compete on the trampoline. Maybe all of the above. Between the Swedish accent, the Bristish accent, and the champagne Pearl had already had, its hard to keep track.

"This picture?" He asks, looking up from Pearl's phone where she pulled up the original Instagram post.

"Yes. I tried looking if there was a-"

"I got it." Iskall says, fingers already flying over her phone doing god only knows what. "I'll do it. I will find the person who took it. Iskall-man is on the case!"

"You're so dramatic," Stress rolls her eyes in a huff, nudging his shoulder.

"Do you not think I can do it? That I can find him? Or her? Because I can. I can find anything. I can do anything. Name one thing I can't do," He snaps his eyes up from Pearl's phone to glare at Stress, even thought she can tell there is no anger behind his eyes.

"What do you even know about diving?" Stress snarks back, barley suppressing a smile.

"Plenty! You don't know that I don't know about diving! And I don't even need to know about that to…"

Iskall doesn’t even look back at Pearl as he hands her the phone back, too busy bickering with Stress to say any more about Pearl's mystery photographer.

At that point, Pearl really thinks maybe this is it. This is a dead end as a friend of a friend of a friend with a real job and things to do other than obsess over who took a single stray photograph won’t remember Pearl's convoluted side quest of these games. Even if the question still nags at her every time she sees the swarms of media that suddenly seem to be everywhere at the games.

Except a day later she gets a call from Iskall as she is walking into the stands for Canoe Slalom. Which is not only an event, but apparently an event Australia is actually pretty good at.

"Hello? Iskall is-"

But before she can get a word in edgewise, he's already talking, voice moving a thousand miles an hour.

"Halo. Go down the stairs on your left right now."

She turns, staring at the stairs on her left, and at this point suddenly remembers that she has no memory of ever giving Iskall her number.

"How do you know where-"

"Your location. I shared it. You're there. At the danger canoe race. Go down the stairs."

"What the fuck? Why did you share my location with yourself, we just-"

"For this reason. So I could know if you were near him. You need to go down the stairs on your left right now because he is there. The guy who took the photo. Go to the photographers. Ask for Mumbo."

"Mumbo?"

"Yes. Mumbo. Go. He's there."

And just as abruptly, the call ends, leaving Pearl reeling.

"What just happened?" Tango asks as he and Gem just stare at her, the only 3 people standing still in the crowd shuffling towards their seats before the start of the event.

Pearl looks at her phone, and then back at the staircase on her left.

"I think the guy who took that picture is here."

"The diving photo you're obsessed with?" Gem asks, raising an eyebrow at her, but Pearl is still looking down at the stairs.

"Yeah. That was False's friend's that we met."

"The Swedish guy? How did he know we were-" Gem starts, but before Pearl can overthink the insanity of not just the phone call, but of this entire insane quest, she turns.

"I'm going to find him."

And she pivots to her left, striding down the stairs two at a time.

"Well of course we're coming with you!" Gem calls after Pearl, the sound of her and Tango's steps echoing after her.

Iskall is right, the press boxes are for the photographers are just down the stairs, and maybe that’s the only reason she gets to the edge of the barricade and shouts out "Mumbo!" into the dozen or so bodies pressed together facing the river.

She watches the shoulder of one guy stiffen before he lowers his lens, straightens up, and turns to look at her.

"Did you take the picture of me?" She calls over the click of cameras and the rush of water from the river below.

The expression on his face shifts to confusion as he looks back at her.

"Maybe?" he says, gesturing with the camera still in his hand.

"This one."

She shoves her phone towards him, the screen full of the image that she has stared at for so long over the past few days. It still takes her breath away every time, how someone could so perfectly capture how it feels to execute a perfect dive. And now the only person who managed to do that might be right here in front of her.

He steps away from the crowd of all the other photographers, coming closer to get a better look at her screen.

He looks at the picture, looks at her, looks at the picture again, and then looks at her.

"That’s you." He says, as if it some sort of revelation.

"Yes. Did you take the picture?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"How?"

"Yes how. This is a fantastic photo. This is amazing. How did you do this?"

"I mean, well, it's quite simple really. The thing with sports photography, so you just have to know when there will be moments that have a good composition. And opportunity, of course, so sometimes…"

As he talks it registers that not only is he blushing as he nervously rambles on, but that he's actually pretty good looking. The photographer who took the photo that she's been obsessed with for a week is not some abstract artist or featureless face behind a long lens among a sea of other lenses. Suddenly it is the attractive guy in front of her who still hasn't looked up from her phone.

"My photos don't look that good though," Tango says, suddenly appearing next to her along the barricade.

"Oh! I know-I recognize you too, you're, you're one of the other-" the camera man stumbles out, finally looking up to dart his gaze between Pearl and Tango with a flash of recognition. "Well okay, so I take a lot of photos so there probably- I mean not all of them get published so there are probably some that are- I might also be a little biased because you-"

"Biased?" Tango says, tipping his head with a glint in his eye, and Pearl swears the camera man's blush deepens.

"Mumbo! You gonna chat all day or what?" a voice shouts from the crowd of photographs.

"I have to go so," Mumbo says, starting to turn back.

"No," Pearl says, reaching for his arm, pulling him back towards the barricade. He's blinking down at where her hand is wrapped around his forearm, but he's not pulling away

"I spent an entire week looking for you. You're not just disappearing on me. What's your instagram?"

"It's just my name. Mumbo. I mean its @ MumboJumboPhotography cause I'm, you know," he says with a nervous laugh as he gestures with the camera one more time. She can feel the muscles in his arm shift under her fingers as he lifts the camera.

"Race is about to start man!" come from the line of photographers.

"I really need to- but it was nice meeting you! Thank you for the- yes. It was really great to meet you!" he stammers out, and this time Pearl lets him go as he turns back towards the Canoe Slalom race.

When Pearl, Gem, and Tango finally make their way back to their seats, she immediately follows @ MumboJumboPhotography on Instagram. It's just so she can tag him in any post she makes with that photo. After all this searching, its the least she can do.

But when she DM's him later that night after a few drinks at the club Impulse and Skizz drag her to…well she still has a few days of free time left to kill in Paris. And he is pretty hot.

[trishacollins]

Birthday ODNLB

GiftFic for Anarchist Gang Server

*~*

He watched the clock click over into midnight, arms wrapped around his knees.

He was sitting against the windows, head pillowed against the glass.

So close to freedom, so far, far away. How many times had he darted through these same windows without a thought for what it would be like to have them closed against him? How wild and reckless had he been, wasting the finite time he had with his friends – with her – and now. Now, he was alone again.

“Happy birthday, kid,” Plagg said softly, tucked against his shoulder.

Midnight.

He was officially eighteen. The gateway to adulthood.

Nothing would change.

He would still be under his father’s thumb; he would still perform on cue. A good little trophy, a perfect, obedient son.

His phone chimed with a message. Nino. Wishing him a happy birthday. Last year, his phone had been going off nonstop for the first hour.

But he had burned those bridges now to protect the people he loved.

“Thanks, Plagg.” He whispered, clearing the notification on his phone.

It was better for all of them if he wasn’t involved. If they stayed as far away from him as possible.

‘You’re thinking loudly.’ Felix’s complaint was soft in the corner of his mind.

‘Sorry for interrupting your sleep.’ He returned, phone pressed lightly against his knee.

Felix’s sigh was felt, not heard. An impression of air leaving his lungs. ‘Are you going to be maudlin the entire day?’

Adrien felt like his silence was sufficiently pointed.

‘The party will be fine, and then you can go back to hiding away from everyone.’ Felix’s faint amusement leaked between them. ‘I am sure you will only need to dance with Lila once.’

‘Is Kagami going?’

Embarrassment over the link was an interesting sensation, as though Felix’s presence in the other half of his mind heated up.

‘She has been invited, as have many others. Chloe assured me she would be.’ Felix replied stiffly.

‘Right. No wonder you are looking forward to it.’

He massaged his forehead, eyes closed as he thought about it – the party was his father’s. Every part of it planned, every part of it a presentation.

With Adrien at the center as a guest of honor.

Just another part of his life sentence.

There was a soft thump on the other side of the window, and he jerked on reflex, looking up.

Ladybug was standing there, studying him. She looked – different than he remembered. Carved from stone that looked to weary and bleak until she smiled at him, tentative and quiet.

He opened the window – it was stupid choice, but he opened the window for her and she stepped inside and a part of him wanted to scream a warning at her, to beg her to go, while the rest of him was turning towards her like a plant starved of sunlight. “Ladybug?” He whispered.

Her smile was smaller than he remembered it, the mischief gone, but she still smiled at him. “It’s your birthday.” She said, quiet, intense.

“Just now.” He waved his watch.

“Happy birthday, Adrien.” She pulled a small package from behind her back, offering it to him.

He took the wrapped package carefully, heart in his throat.

If Lila knew – if his father knew – if anyone knew she was here.

But he couldn’t send her away.

He couldn’t make himself send her away.

“Thank you.” He whispered, caressing the paper with hungry fingers. It probably smelled like her. It was still warm from the yoyo.

His eyes burned with tears, but he didn’t want to cry with his lady right there. There were words crowded behind his teeth, begging to be said, explanations she deserved.

“Open it.” She prompted.

He found a corner of the paper and tenderly unwrapped it, careful not to tear the wrapping. Her cheeks went faintly pink, but she didn’t move from the window.

Inside was a soft, hand-knitted sweater in a deep blue. A smaller package held macaroons.

“Passion Fruit. My favorite. Are these Tom and Sabine’s?” He asked.

Fuck. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

Her smile was quiet. “Only the best in Paris.”

“Thank you.” He put as much earnestness into his voice as he could manage. "Do you want one?" He opened the box of the forbidden treat, holding one out to her.

Her lips twitched, a faint hint of something warm and familiar settling over her face as she took it. He picked up another and gently bumped it against her cookie before taking a bite, letting it linger in his mouth, savoring it. "They're as good as I remember.

"It's been a while for you?" She takes a small, careful bite. No crumbs fall - not that anything would really ruin her costume. They're practically indestructible. But she's neat and careful. There is no careless joy to her movements, no argument that ends in messes.

He nods but says nothing. They finish the cookies in silence. His yearning for her only puts her in danger. It would be better to say nothing, to close this door too. But he can't.

“I hate my birthday.”

“Why?” She blinked, sinking down to the window. Their feet touch. It's a ridiculous thing to notice.

He had seen her like this a thousand nights before, and yet he had never seen her like this at all.

“It’s always a big production my father puts on. It’s never….it’s not….” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “It makes me wish for things that can never be.” His mouth still tastes like passion fruit and sweet, crumbly cookies.

Ladybug nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He longed to touch her but knew he couldn’t, or he would break in ways that could never be repaired. “I remember Hawkmoth made an Akuma out of one of your friends.”

“Nino.” He closed his eyes, a breath leaving him.

Doors were closing and being closed all around him. At the end of it, he would be nothing. All he would ever be allowed to be was a perfect doll that followed orders.

He hated that most of all.

Hated the leash that held him back. “He’s away. For an internship.”

“International?”

“Mhm.” He stroked the soft yarn of her gift and knew he would probably never be able to wear it out of the confines of his bedroom.

But she had given it to him, this soft, hand-knitted sweater.

He wished he could smell it to determine if it did smell like her.

“So it’s just going to be you and…”

“And the whole of Paris. The valuable ones.” His voice was bitter, and he lifted his eyes to her as well. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“I know what it’s like to be alone.” She said softly, after a moment of studying him. “Even with so many people around, the ones you truly want to be there are gone.”

It felt like a knife in his soul, and he held her gaze for only a moment before dropping away.

“I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Happy birthday, Adrien.”

“Thank you, Ladybug.” He whispered.

She touched the back of his hand, and stood.

He wanted nothing more in the world than to follow her out the window. But he can’t.

Chat Noir is dead.

His father made sure of it.

And Ladybug – unknowing, kind, perfect – is his enemy now.

“I hope you have a little bit of fun.” She offered quietly, and was gone.

“That could have gone worse,” Plagg muttered from his shirt. “Kid?”

He finally gave into temptation and brought the sweater to his face, inhaling deeply of the scent. Floral and spice, warm.

His lady.

‘Someone gag me.’ Felix muttered in his head.

@wackus-bonkus-maximus

@paracosmicat

[lily-drake]

Gifts

Any holiday or day where gifts were given was taken with utmost seriousness in the Wayne household.  Or in other words, it was a competition to one up each other’s gifts.  It all started when Jason came to the house and Dick had come back to visit for the holidays.  Marinette hadn’t really understood what was happening when she happily opened Dick’s present, which was a new knitting kit with so many different materials.  She ran over to him and hugged him tightly as Alfred took photos.  Dick had glanced over at Jason and smirked at him, but Jay-Jay only rolled his eyes with his arms crossed.  She still hadn’t opened his after all, and he was around her more now than Dick was, which meant he had a higher advantage of knowing her new interests and endeavors.  So he watched as she pulled out a thick book of fashion design and her own embroidery set.  Her eyes practically glowed as stared at the set.  Jason hadn’t even seen her move because next thing he knew strong arms were wrapped around him.  The 7-year-old had definitely been taught by Dick on how to hug people.

Bruce gazed lovingly at his children, but he knew about their competition, and he would not be outdone by his sons.

“Daddy, Daddy, look what Birdy and Jay-Jay gave me!  They’re so nice!  Feel the material Birdy got me, I can make so many things now!”

“That sounds amazing, Bluebell.”

Marinette smiled brightly as she showed Bruce the gifts that she got.

“Do you want to see what I got you?”

He asked amusedly.  Marinette began to hop on her toes in excitement, because daddy’s always had the best gifts!

“Yes please!”

Bruce smiled and pointed out a small, thin, rectangular box under the tree.  She leaped over to it and when she opened it her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

“You got me tickets to Sophie Theallet’s fashion show?!”

She was jumping with joy as she stared at the five tickets in her hand.  Bruce looked over at and smirked at the boys.  He won, again.  They groaned and sulked in annoyance.  Why did he always win?

________

Marinette was 9 when she finally figured out what her family was doing, and she knew that she would be the one to give the absolute best gifts to her family!  Her family deserved something super special, so she went to work.  Her Birdy was part of the circus and they had a lot of equipment he often used.  But what could she do that would be super special and make her win the competition?  Then it hit her, she knew exactly what she would do!  She would need to ask Alfred for help, but it would be worth it!

Next was Jay-Jay.  She didn’t know much about his past as he always told her that she had to wait till she was older, but she knew about him now.  Jay-Jay loved to read and would often read to her, he really liked hoodies and comfy things, and he liked to bake with Alfred and her.  So maybe…….yea!  She would do that, it shouldn’t be that hard to do.

Daddy always got her such nice gifts, how could she ever beat him?  There had to be something she could do to outdo him.  He was Batman, he worked with the Justice League, he loved all of them, and sometimes if he finished his work early would watch movies with them!  But he was always so good and knew exactly what to get.  She would try though, she had an idea and she hoped it would work.

Alfred, he deserved the best gift because of everything he did for them!  She already knew the perfect gift for her grandpa Alffie!

________

Christmas arrived and she stared out the window as the snowflakes fell onto the covered yard.  Maybe they could go sledding today, that would be so much fun!  She was so transfixed in the snow, and thinking of how pretty a dress would be with the same color and different designs, that she hadn’t noticed her brothers sneaking up on her.  A squeal left her lips as she was lifted into the air and twirled around wrapped in the warm embrace of her Birdy.  She giggled as he spun and squeaked as she was gently thrown into the air, only to land on the couch.

“Good morning Blueberry.”

Dick chirped happily.  She giggled again and leaned into Jay-Jay’s hand as he ruffled her hair.

“Morning Pixie-pop.  Sleep well?”

“Morning Birdy and Jay-Jay.  I slept great, thank you.  Did either of you?”

Jason shrugged with a small smirk,

“I slept fine, though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping a little longer.  You missed Dick’s hallway caroling this morning.”

“I sounded amazing, thank you very much.  And I was too excited to fully sleep.  I’m going to win this year.”

Dick said pridefully.

“No way, I’m totally going to beat you.”

Jason deffied puffing out his chest slightly.  Marinette giggled and called out,

“No, I’m going to beat all of you!  I will be the champion gift giver this year.”

They looked at her and smirked.

“Only in your dreams Pix.”

“You’ll see,”

She replied, crossing her arms and lifting her nose in the air like she had seen some of the people at the galas do.

“Then you’ll have to agree with me!”

They all gave each other sceptical looks before laughing and continued to talk until daddy came down.  When he finally did, the competition commenced.  The first person to open presents was her, obviously, as she was the youngest.  Dick had given her a really nice and fancy art kit, and she loved it!  Jay-Jay had given her tickets and backstage passes to the theater for The Nutcracker, she had been wanting to see it for a while now.  Alfred had told her that he would teach her how to make a super secret recipe, and she would be able to help him with dinner today too!  Daddy, he was too clever, too cunning.  He had given her a pet hamster, and it was beautiful!  She couldn’t beat him now, her gift was nothing compared to-to this!  She tries though, and maybe she could win second?  Yea, she would be ok with second, if she got this adorable baby creature.  She couldn’t even be mad or disappointed, because look at its cute little feet and adorable eyes!

Next was Jay-Jay.  The others had given him some really nice things, but she felt that hers was the best!  So when he opened it and his eyes shined, she knew she made the right thing!  It had taken her hours to find it, and she had to ask Dad if she could get it since she wasn’t allowed to use the card without permission.  It was one of the first books of Pride and Prejudice ever published, she even got him a fancy ink and quill set so he could better embrace his Harry Potter nerdom.

“This is amazing, thank you Pixie, I guess I do owe you an apology, this is amazing.”

She smiled up at him while gently petting the top of her new hamster's head as it laid on her lap.

“Told you!”

For Dick she had knitted him a collection of stuffed animals that he talked about from the circus.  Alfred had helped her find the material and helped her when she made a mistake or needed help on a particularly tricky part.  She thought she saw Dick’s eyes water for a second.  The next thing she knew she was being tightly hugged, but he left enough room to not squish her furry child.

“Thank you Blueberry, it’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I made them!”

He chuckled as he pulled away and ruffled her already messed up hair.

She had made Daddy a picture book and had decorated it with black and yellow glitter, bats, and different birds.  Throughout the book were all of the pictures that she was able to get her hands on dated and labeled in order from oldest photo to most recent.  He had a soft smile as he looked through the book and when he finally looked back up to his slightly nervous daughter he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“I think you won this year.”

“Nuh ah!  You gave me a hamster!  There’s no way I could have won!”

“Well, I think all the others would agree that you thought of and made some very amazing gifts.”

She turned to look at the others as they gave gentle nods and thumbs up.  Her cheeks felt really warm and she smiled at them all.

“Thank you.  Now Grandpa Alffie needs to open his presents!”

Alfred smiled at the small child and opened the gifts he had received from the others.  Marinette had made and embroidered a new handkerchief for him.  He seemed to like it as he immediately placed it in his pocket.  She was the victor of this year's Christmas gift exchange, but she still felt that Daddy beat her.

________

As years passed and her family grew so did the competition.  Sadly, it would be harder to her her family their most desired gifts as she had decided to study abroad in Paris that year, but she would be da*ed if she didn’t try her hardest.  She had gotten better with her skills for making things over the years, and so much had happened.  Jason had died and come back, that was the hardest time of her life.  They had new people adopted into the family, and she even had a little brother!  She was going to meet him this year when she went to visit for the winter break.  She would have the glasses with her at all times in case there was an attack so she could quickly come back here and take care of it.

When she arrived at the Gotham Airport and saw her large family standing and holding a sign as they looked for her she ran up to them as quickly as she could.

“Pixie!”

Jason called out, catching the small girl and twirling her around.  She laughed and when she was put down created the rest of her family just as happily.  When she finally came face to face with her little brother she held out her hand.  Her family said he was more formal and was very against physical touch that he did not agree to or initiate.  He eyed her hand suspiciously before shaking it and giving her a nod.

“Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.”

“Marinette Wayne.  It’s nice to finally meet you Damian.”

They both let go after a firm shake.  She already had a gift for him, and Kagami helped her find the perfect one.  It was a nice blade, the blade was completely black, but had a red tint to it and red gains that delicately ran through it.  The hilt was of fine golden metal and a strong leather grip.  She had made the sheath for the blade.  With strong leather and an inner layer of Kevlar so the sword would be protected.  She had carved in Arabic symbols to spell out “Son of Bat” and had sewn a few almost unnoticeable small robins along the bottom and top of the inky black material.

For Tim, she had gotten him the best coffee beans in all of Paris and she had made him new lounge clothes that identified with his hero persona of Red Robin that had many hidden pockets and two large to-go coffee cups, one on each sleeve.

For Jason she had made him a new leather Jacket with book quotes embroidered all over the inside of the inner material.  There were lots of different pockets, and a few tailor made to fit his guns.  She had put a few Jagged Stone concert tickets in one of the pockets too.

For Stephanie, she had made purple silk pajamas that had waffles all over it.  She had even made sure that there was a hood connected to the pj shirt.

For Cass, just like Jason had done for her, gotten tickets for The Nutcracker.  She had also gotten her ballerina shoes, the best one and most highly recommended ones from the Paris Ballet.

For Dick she had made him an elephant onesie.  Why you may ask, well because for her birthday he had given her a mouse one.  So was it spite for being called short, or was it her trying to match, nobody needs to know.

She had made Alfred a new apron with the words “Don’t try anything, I already know.”  Neatly sewed in cursive into it.

She had gotten Babs a new eskrima stick infused with a bit of her luck in it so no one would underestimate her in battle as she would always have luck on her side giving her the upper hand.  She may be disabled, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking butt.

Finally, her gift for her dad.  This one was hard, because she wasn’t around to know what had caught his eye this year, and her siblings refused to tell her.  It was fine though, because she would figure it out.  And she did, or at least she had tried.  She ended up making him a bee suit jacket with everybody’s names sewed into the inner lining, multiple pockets for convenience, and black bats that would only be shown in the right lighting.  She would win this year, she would!  Sadly, Dick had won last year, but she would regain her crown again this year!  She would be the best gift giver of her whole family!!!

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess

[foodieforthoughts]

Journey through time - Part 5

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warnings: fluff and only fluff.

A/N1: Last part to this mini photo series. Thanks to @agniavateira who has provided me with so much inspiration. Also thank you to everyone who read and liked and commented. You guys make me so happy. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

A/N2: I'll be taking a small hiatus from posting fics for now. But I'll be back soon. ❤️

As much as Sy adored his daughter, secretly he had always wanted a son. Two years after Adeline was born, when he was back from his oversees tour for three weeks, Sy took it upon himself to get you round and plump with his kids again. He was overjoyed when you told him over a call that you were pregnant. Although it saddened you both that this time, Sy wasn't going to be around when you gave birth to your child. When you told him he was going to be a father to twin boys, Sy had hollered with glee, making a couple of his men come knocking at his door to see if he way okay. That was a very awkward call, where you were waving at his men while they congratulated you. You sent him a copy of your sonogram, along with a picture of you with Adeline in a care package. "Mini me's," He would say while looking at the picture, "And my princess with my queen." Your heart would flutter like the very first time he had kissed you; upsetting you at the distance and yet also filling you with love. Sy asked his parents to come live with you, help you with Adeline, as you got big and started experiencing difficulty in moving around. When you went into labour, his mother tried to get him on call, just like he had requested. But they were unable to connect to his phone, wondering if he was safe and sound or just away doing things that were expected of him to do as a captain. Your emotions were unbounded when you gave birth to your sons, worrying about Sy and going through the long process without him. The next day, Sy saw his sons for the first time over the video call, happy tears springing in his eyes as you cradled the two boys in your arms. "They have your eyes, Sy. Have you thought of names yet?" You had asked, having decided long time ago that since you had named your daughter, Sy would name his sons. "James and Noah." He had sniffed out, smiling at you lovingly.

Captain Syverson retired as Major Syverson after serving 20 years of active duty. Sy joined as a coach for Little League Baseball team, becoming a favorite amongst his players and their moms. Every morning you would kiss Sy goodbye as he walked out the front door, holding little Adeline's tiny hand in his to drive her to her school on his way to work. Your days were filled with less worrying about Sy's safety and more on providing a loving family for your kids. It helped that at the end of the day, your dining table was occupied with your children and your loving husband, sharing their day's events. Weekends were spent in parks with the whole Syverson clan out for picnics, you watching your husband running around with James and Noah, Adeline who was a spitting image of her father, perched on his strong shoulders. Somedays you couldn't believe your life turned out the way it did, mostly when you would walk inside the living room to find Sy sprawled on the sofa with Adeline curled on his side, James and Noah snoozing on his chest. You would wake him up, carefully peeling your daughter away from her father and take her to bed, while Sy got both boys in his arms with little to no effort and took them to their own room. At the end of the day, when parenthood and responsibilities left you both weary, you and Sy found solace in each other's arms while drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

It was the most devastating day in Sy's life when his teenage daughter told him she wanted to pursue modelling. Adeline was stubborn and opinionated, graced with Sy's beautiful features. He had stared at his daughter with wide eyes, cup of coffee stopping midway to his mouth. "You want me to be okay with grown men gawking at you?" He had gruffly replied, anger evident with his eyebrows knitting together and his lips forming a frown. You had learned over the years to not interfere with Sy's ways of parenting. James and Noah had awkwardly slid off their chairs, both of them avoiding what was to come next. The discussion had ended with father and daughter, arguing with each other, eventually Sy sending a crying Adeline away to her room. Neither of them had spoken to each other the rest of the day, Adeline refusing to eat dinner and Sy drinking too many glasses of whiskey. "I cannot believe she thinks modelling is a career choice." He had scowled later in the night, you both staring at the ceiling while lying in bed. "Didn't you once tell me you had hated your father for sending you off to military school? Do you want your daughter to hate you?" Sy had sighed, turning on his side to face you. "That's different. Adeline's our little girl, it's my duty to protect her." Understanding completely what Sy was feeling as a parent, you had too turned on your side and placed your hand on his scruffy cheek. "You taught her to be strong, independent. She will always be our little girl. Don't you trust her to take decisions for her life? And even if she fails to do what she desires, don't you want to be there for her when she would need her dad?"

The next day you had watched from your kitchen window as Sy and Adeline talked while sitting on the swings in the backyard, ending with long hugs and lots of tears.

While Adeline roamed around the country for fashion shows, Sy groomed his sons to join the army someday. It was not an acceptable behavior, but both of you had your favorites when it came to the twins. Noah, the stronger of the two was decidedly his father's favorite, adding to his delight when by the end of high school, he wanted to go to a military academy. James, the apple of your eye, on the other hand, wanted to become a doctor, much to Sy's dismay. But lessons were learned from the time with Adeline and for that reason only, Sy did not oppose. Noah was sent off to Virginia to a military academy, going on to join the air force as it was affiliated with his school; while James buried himself in studies, moving to Connecticut to attend medical school. Weekends that were spent with picnics in the park, now consisted of video conference calls with your three kids spread out over the country. "It's just going to be you and me in the end." Sy would say, shutting the computer off and looking at you pensively. Wounding your arms around the love of your life, you would rest your head on his shoulder and agree, "Till death do us part."

On your 30th wedding anniversary, Sy gave you an unexpected surprise. He had been missing from the house since morning, only to send a vague text with "Pack your bags and come out in ten minutes." When you walked outside on the front porch, you were left stunned to find Sy dressed in riding gear on a super bike. "I think we need to relive our days from the time we were dating. Come on, I've planned a road trip for us." And with that, Sy had driven all the way to San Antonio for the weekend. With a hotel room on the river, Sy pampered you with all his love and the best Tex-Mex food he could find for you. You spent the day shopping and exploring, while in the night he made love to you with unbridled passion. "My better half," he had called you, kissing your hands while cradling you to his chest. When you both came back home from your trip, you had another surprise waiting for you: Your three children all under the same roof again, holding up a sign board with "Happy anniversary, mom and dad."

Noah had successfully climbed the ranks in the airforce to become Lieutenant at an age younger than when Sy was one. But it was when James, inspired by his twin, decided to join the armed forces as a field doctor, you saw Sy's chest puff in pride. "Syverson men always join the military." He had told his friends over dinner one night, soaking up the praises for his children. Adeline joined a major modelling agency that speared her career forward. She roamed around the globe, sending her old folks trinkets from the new city she was in, and one day added a picture of her and her boyfriend in the mail. Sy turned into a protective father quickly, inviting her and her man to have dinner. "I like him." Your old man had chuckled, when he had scared Adeline's boyfriend, making him blabber incoherently with nervousness. You could only watch in a haze as one day Adeline's boyfriend showed up to your house unannounced, to ask Sy for his daughter's hand in marriage. "Listen boy, Adeline is precious and if you hurt her, you know there wouldn't be anything worse than us. You don't want to be on the bad side of the Syverson men, is that clear?" You had heard Sy warn, a shiver running down your spine listening to his commanding tone, even if the threat wasn't meant for you. A few weeks later, when Adeline was in Paris, she had called home only minutes after the proposal, screaming on the phone that she said "yes." The rest of the night, Sy had you looking at Adeline's baby pictures from old photo albums. "This little bundle would be getting married soon. Can you believe that?" He had laughed, wiping the tear at the corner of his eye and throwing his arm around your shoulders when you couldn't hold onto your own tears.

The day after Adeline, Sy's little girl, was married, he threw a brunch for the newly weds and their families. James and Noah, back from their deployment in time for their sister's wedding, had introduced their own girlfriends to both of you before the ceremony. You knew Sy would never admit it, macho behavior of his never fading, but you could see his eyes glisten watching his family grow. He had tried to keep a straight face throughout the ceremony too, but he had let go of his tears when Adeline had laid her head on his shoulder during their father-daughter dance. Halfway through brunch, Sy pulled you away from the crowd and took you towards the orchard outside the country club. He held your hand while taking you to stand under the shade of a massive tree. "It's like I'm living in a dream." You admitted, looking out at the sprawling orchard, thinking about how you were a mother-in-law to someone. Sy pulled you close to him by your waist, encircling his arms around you. Gray hair on his temples and his face beginning to be marked with wrinkles and yet for you, Sy looked like he had never aged. "I know I don't tell this to you very often, but darlin' running into you, falling in love with you, building a life with you, is the best thing that could have happened to me." He kissed the top of your head, taking your face in his hands before planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you and thank you for everything, Sy." You whispered as the birds chirped on the branches above, a whistling breeze blew by carrying the sweet fragrance of fruits in the orchard and you stared at the brilliant blue orbs of the man who had owned your heart and soul since many years ago.

The End.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language? 

-

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

-

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

-

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

-

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

-

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

-

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

-

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

-

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)

[sassyduckqueen]

So I watched Wishmaker...

And I actually enjoyed it! Surprising given that it’s part of the train wreck that is season 4 but I generally enjoyed the episode. There are one or two things I didn’t like (LUKANETTE BEEN BROKEN UP!!!) but other then that, it was good. The Villain was fantastic. He looked amazing, his build up was good and his power was frankly brilliant. I loved that he actually made the dreams come true. Like just straight up come true. No warped reality, no nightmares. Just pure innocent dreams becoming reality and the chaos that ensured was great. I mean Mr Banana wanting to be a cucumber, Jagged wanted to be a crocodile, the toymaker wanting to be santa... brilliant. 

And the Luka content was glorious. It just makes me love his character even more. From the way he handled Alec’s insult and actually made him cry to the way he tried to help and cheer up Sadrien to how he saved the day as Viperion. Beautiful. And the way he tried to reassure Adrien and Marinette about their futures. Lovely. The fact that he was willing to sacrifice himself to draw the robot away to protect his friends. Amazing. Like that is how you do a self sacrifice. It was the right moment and of course! Viperion to the rescue!! 

Speaking of second chances, I thought Marinette’s wish to be the Knitting Fairy was adorable but chat... oh chat... I get why he did it. I really do. He didn’t remember his childhood dream and it was hurting him not knowing but he knew what was at risk. He knew that his identity would have been revealed and he didn’t know if Viperion had activated his second chance yet, meaning he had no idea if his reveal could be reversed... yet... he still let himself be hit. Let that sink in. He let himself get hit, knowing it would reveal his identity and might not be reversed. Luckily, Viperion is one smart cookie and knew how to save the day but seriously chat. Grow the fuck up. Say he wasn’t Shadow Moth’s son but he was known and his identity revealed. Do you think Shadow Moth would leave his family alone? Because he didn’t with Alya. He was willing to endanger his friends, his family, the entire of Paris and Ladybug... all for a dream that has been long forgotten because as people grow so do their dreams. I will say though I love the character development we got here for Marinette, Luka, Adrien and Alec! 

And Finally that ending. I’m actually glad Luka didn’t tell Marinette but I don’t think it’s because he now fully believes in the love scare. Nope. My personal HC for his sad expressions isn’t because oh look Marinette is Ladybug and is in love with Adrien who is actually Chat Noir and is in love with Ladybug... no, no. I don’t accept that because of Miracle Queen and Truth. You see Luka is the one person who has seen how much pressure and stress Marinette is under. He knows she can’t tell him what her truth is and that it is crushing her so his sad expression isn’t to do with the love square but to do with the fact that the girl he loves is the superhero of Paris. He now knows why she couldn’t tell him and he knows the full extend of the pressure she is under. And it hurts him to know that plus there’s truth. He tried to expose Marinette’s secret so imagine the guilt he must feel now he knows what said secret is. As for the sad expression regarding chat, it’s a similar thing. While Chat is certainly not a great choice for a hero, he is still a hero and both of them are still children who are carrying the weight of an entire city on their shoulders. That is why Luka looked sad! Not because of some stupid Love Scare bull (i’m looking at you asstruck) but because his friends are risking their lives to help the city against a crazy madman! He isn’t sad because of them, he’s sad for them!

So in conclusion, Luka is best boi, Marinette’s childhood dream is adorable, Adrien is an idiot but I guess it’s like father like son, this was the best episode of season 4 so far and it is straight up something out of a fanfic (i know what you did there, writers of miraculous. I know). Oh and a little call to Sass for been the best Kwami and one of the only two adults in the actual show with the other one been Luka himself.

Side Note: While I love the idea of Luka making instruments, his whole thing about Music been his nature and the fact that he can play violin, I do wish they had brought in earlier instead of dropping in this episode and been like ‘surprise, motherf*ckers!’ Like if you want to make him a musical prodigy with the dream of building instruments then show it and build it up!

[quixotin]

Ladynoir July Day 15 - Forbidden

This is a gift for my beloved @sparklylovegiver because today is their birthday and I love them very much, and mom I am so sorry sketchy and I are always tormenting you with angst so here is my gift to you: I try to NOT be as angsty as usual, and offer you some warm humanitarian relief <3

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPARK!! 💞💞💞

--

Day 15 - Forbidden

For Sparky

“Chat, are you sure everything’s alright?” Ladybug said, interrupting the silence as she and Chat Noir patrolled the streets of Paris a few days after Nino’s last akumatization. “You’ve been very quiet lately.”

Chat frowned. “I’m okay, LB,” he reassured and offered her a smile, but Ladybug saw right through it.

She stopped and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look squarely at her. “Chat...”

“I just... I was just wondering...” He sighed. “It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about it. You... you’ll get mad I asked.”

Ladybug searched his eyes with concern in her expression. “Chat Noir, I promise I won’t get mad. You can talk to me. What’s wrong, minou?”

He looked down, unable to deliver his question while being pinned by her piercing stare. “I was just wondering... why can’t we know each other’s identities? I mean... you are the Guardian, aren’t you? You-you're the one that makes the rules, and I was just thinking... I mean, it’s because... Well, I just... Never mind.”

“Tell me,” Ladybug encouraged.

Chat Noir shook his head. “I can’t. If I tell you more I might give myself away.”

Ladybug was warmed by the fact that despite Chat had always longed to reveal his identity and even was asking about it, he still respected her decision.

Ladybug sighed and took a step forward to him. She grabbed both his hands as she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said immediately; a distinct discomfort settled in his stomach. That of not being able to tell whether he was telling the truth, or acting out what was expected of him.

“It’s to protect you.”

“Protect me?” he asked, puzzled. “Protect me from what?”

“From being akumatized.”

Chat frowned, itching to explain exactly where the question came from because Ladybug’s explanation made no sense. But he knew if he were to speak, he would probably unravel a gossip mill that would wound up with his identity being discovered and him losing Nino’s trust. Against his own will, he bit his tongue.

“But how--”

“Trust me, chaton.”

He let go of an exasperated breath. “Can I ask you something else, though?”

“Of course.”

“And you promise to be honest?”

“As honest as I can be.”

“Are--are there any wielders that know each other? I mean, under the mask.”

“Why do you--”

“I just... was curious. I kept thinking about Rena Rouge and Carapace. They... they seem like they know each other. I mean, I can’t possibly explain why they act like a couple when they’re not even permanent wielders like us.”

Ladybug bit her lip, feeling her stomach plunge with nervousness. She promised to be honest. And really, what could possibly happen if she told him the truth? Chat was being curious, nothing more. Right?

“Yes,” she admitted. “They know each other behind the mask.”

Chat knew what the answer was going to be and yet he found himself feeling the same searing anger that briefly overtook him when he learned the truth from Nino. He took a deep breath and reeled in.

Ladybug could see the disappointment in his reaction. She waited for him to say something, but only silence met her. Anxious that Chat was angrier than he was letting on, she disposed to explain herself.

“It was an emergency,” she said, her voice helping Chat find his footing among the whirlwind of emotions that mangled him. “It was on Hero’s Day. When Scarlet Moth attacked, remember? I sent you to get Chloe and I went for Carapace and Rena. I found them together and I didn’t have time to come up with an excuse to separate them. I had no choice but to give them their Miraculous at the same time.”

The sigh of relief that escaped Chat was almost a little too obvious. It made Ladybug wonder whether his questions were really stemming from curiosity alone.

“Ladybug,” he said. “Can I ask you something else?”

She smiled sweetly at him and teased, “You’re quite inquisitive today, aren’t you? Okay, shoot.”

Chat Noir couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips as he rolled his eyes.

“If you didn’t have to “protect” me,” he air-quoted. “Would... would it still be forbidden for us to know each other?”

“Chat...”

He looked away, unable to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay.” His baton beeped with an alarm clock he had set. He needed to be back in the mansion in ten minutes. “That’s me,” he said. “I have to go now. See you around, LB.”

“Wait,” Ladybug said, grasping his wrist and forcing him to wait. She sighed, and then looked at him with a pleading, a longing, Chat had never seen in her before. It made his heart skip and stumble.

“I had never thought about it,” she explained and knitted her eyebrows in concentration. “But I guess... it depends. If the stakes were lower, maybe. But kitty, you have to remember, our main objective is to defeat Shadowmoth, and we cannot afford to be vulnerable.”

“But Carapace and Rena...”

“I can bench them whenever I please, even change wielders. But I can’t fight without you. You’re irreplaceable.”

Chat Noir pouted, determined to push his argument. “But--but... aren’t they stronger for it? Wouldn’t we be stronger if we knew? And if you’re scared that we may become akumatized... can’t-- can’t you just... I don’t know, make one of those charms you’ve learned to make?”

Ladybug couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not so simple, Chat. I’m still not exactly sure how to do that. And don’t you remember what happened with them during the Hero’s Day fight? Carapace was distracted and Rena sacrificed herself, then Queen Bee was taken off guard because Hawkmoth knew her identity and used her family against her. It’s not as easy as just Akuma-proofing.”

“But would you want to?” he insisted, desperation becoming apparent in his voice. “Would you want to know who I am if none of this were in the way?”

A painful knot forming in Ladybug’s throat prevented her from speaking more clearly. “Yes,” she muttered. “Of course I would, Chat.”

Chat Noir looked at her with hope.

“We’ve been through so much together, of course, I would like to know who you are. What you’re like when you’re not making horrible puns, what sort of movies you watch, if you play any sports, what your dream job is... I’d like to know all that. But... we can’t,” she said, sadly. “At least not yet.”

“Not yet?” Chat Noir repeated, his voice broken and evidencing the fact he was holding back tears.

She smiled with a light blush on her cheeks. “Once this is over, chaton.”

“R-really? You promise?”

Ladybug took a moment to reply, if only because she was making the conscious effort to make sure she was promising something she’d be able to deliver. “Yes,” she said softly.

Chat’s eyes glistened with tears, which he hurried to wipe off with his forearm. Then, the alarm went off again.

He hiccupped, trying to not let the menacing tears get the best of him. “Okay.”

He unclipped the baton and disposed to vault off. At the last minute, he turned back to her. “LB?”

“Yes?” she said, smirking. “Weren’t you about to leave?”

“Meowch, trying to get rid of me already?”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and chuckled. “What is it, Chat?”

“We’re good at keeping secrets, right?”

“Right.”

“Do you mind keeping one for me?”

Ladybug looked at him with amused curiosity, then nodded.

Chat gulped, trying to swallow the hammering pulse stuck in his chest. He bent down and quickly pecked her cheek, catching Ladybug by surprise and eliciting a deep, crimson blush on her face.

“Thanks for answering my questions, m’lady,” he whispered before rushing out of view.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

soulmate au?????

Soulmate Au where things that people love/hate appear tattooed on their soulmate’s body. If they love it it’ll be on their front, and if they hate it it’ll appear on their back. The more important it is the closer it is to the heart. They can also move around/disappear over time.

Tim Drake is two years old when he receives his first soulmarks. There are two: the names Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain are found in elegant script over his heart.

He was alone when he’d found it, attempting to learn how to button up his shirt, and they’d sprung from his skin. He didn’t bother crying. He’d long since lost hope that someone would come for him if he did.

Instead, he’d waited for a maid to come into the room on her rounds and called her over.

The woman had smiled kindly as she explained soulmarks. How they were actually a good thing. How they meant that he was going to fall in love one day and one day he could get married! Like his mommy and daddy!

He’d seen how his mom and dad were sometimes. He wasn’t all that impressed.

Tim decided that the whole ‘soulmate’ thing could wait. He had a shirt to learn how to button.

~

On the other side of the world, however, Marinette Dupain Cheng is born without any tattoos on her body. Her parents don’t think much of it. She was just older than her soulmate, then. Or maybe she didn’t have one. That was fine.

But then, three years later, a computer appeared over her heart.

Marinette didn’t even notice until she was pulling off her shirt for a bath.

She hadn’t been shocked or scared like Tim had been, instead she’d beamed and waddled over to her mother with the widest grin on her face.

“Maman! Maman! Look! I have a soulmark!”

Sabine had smiled and turned to look but, much to Marinette’s confusion, it quickly morphed into an anxious expression.

Then her mother brought the smile back and she figured it must have been her imagination. The woman had reached out to ruffle her hair.

Marinette had finished getting ready and gotten in the bath, and her mother looked her over for a soulmark as she cleaned her. But there wasn’t one. There wasn’t one on her back and, outside of the one that had just formed, there wasn’t one on her front.

Then what was going on? Even abused kids tended to have their parent’s names somewhere on their bodies. But there was nothing.

The next guess was that her soulmate’s parents were dead. Usually, orphans had their housemates’ names on them, so the kid would have to be on the streets. Could a street kid really get enough access to a computer that it appears over their heart?

Sabine finished toweling off her daughter and pressed a kiss to her head after pulling her shirt on.

“Want to watch Pere bake some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

~

Whoever Tim’s soulmate was, they were really good at making friends. His chest was littered with names by the end of their first year of school.

And then there was one name on his back, right over his heart: Chloe Bourgeois. He frowned when he saw it.

For the first time since his first soulmark had appeared, he found himself curious about what was going on.

He pulled out his computer and looked up the name, not expecting to find much.

But, it turned out he did. After running an article through google translate (which didn’t work great) he managed to gather that she was the daughter of the mayor of Paris.

So... his soulmate was French.

(Unless they just had a vendetta against a random 3-year-old. Unlikely, though.)

He pulled up a new tab. It never hurt to learn a new language.

~

Their likes and dislikes slowly cropped up on their bodies as time went on.

Tim had smiled despite himself when he saw the pictures cropping up. A whisk was found on his shoulder, and then a video game console popped up on his stomach, and then a sewing needle and buttons could be seen under their parent’s names. On his back, he could find what appeared to be homework and broccoli. Whoever his soulmate was, their life seemed quaint and pleasant.

Marinette had been happy to see all the little things popping up over herself as well. A circus tent on the sole of her foot, a skateboard on her neck, a camera by the computer. On her back, she could see what looked like playing cards. She thought all their hobbies sounded cute (if a bit random). She was just concerned about the distinct lack of names on her body; she hoped that they were at least getting enough social interaction.

~

When she was twelve, it finally happened: a name appeared!

She stared at the script that had displaced the computer and her eyebrows knit together.

Batman.

Maybe a pet’s name? Human names tended to give a first and last name, so...

She typed it into her phone to try and translate it to French and her eyes widened when it actually gave information on someone in this place called Gotham.

A vigilante?

She laid back in her bed and frowned to herself.

In order for a person to show up as a name, there had to be a personal connection. If there wasn’t, like a celebrity crush, it would show up as a picture. But this was text, so…

Well, she hoped that her soulmate was safe.

Over time, more names appeared. They were all just as odd.

Nightwing?

Batgirl?

A simple google search showed they were vigilantes, too. She frowned slightly.

As long as they were okay, she supposed she should just be happy that they were talking to good people.

Besides, being friends with vigilantes seemed kind of cool. She could understand the appeal. She wished that Paris had something like that.

~

When he was fifteen a polka-dotted yoyo appeared over his heart, displacing their family’s names slightly. He stared at the yoyo for a minute in the mirror and then snickered to himself.

“Damn. They must really like yoyos.”

He laughed to himself and glanced at his back to see if anything changed, and was surprised to find that Chloe’s name had been moved away to make room for…

Was that a butterfly?

“And hate butterflies, apparently.”

~

She stared at the tiny bird over her heart.

Computers, skateboards, circuses, photography, and… birdwatching?

Whoever her soulmate was, their hobbies had range.

~

Tim had been changing out of his Robin costume when the names started disappearing.

Panic filled him. He’d heard before that, when your soulmate dies, your tattoos start to disappear.

But a few stayed, as did their hobbies.

He looked over the remaining names.

Their parents were still there, right next to the yoyo. Their family life was okay…

He stared at the other name and his eyebrows knit together.

Who names their kid Chat Noir?

He shook his head slightly. Maybe his soulmate had a black cat and wasn’t good at naming things.

Tim checked his back, mostly out of habit more than anything, and frowned to himself.

The butterfly had disappeared, and in its place were two names:

Lila Rossi and Hawkmoth.

~

She grinned as she twirled around in the dress she’d made. She was rather proud of it, it had a nice red and black color scheme.

She started taking it off, only to realize something.

Everything was gone.

She looked over her skin, running her fingers over where all the tiny tattoos had once been and felt tears form in her eyes.

Her soulmate was…

And then, slowly but surely, something appeared on her chest.

She wiped her eyes and looked at it, only to frown.

A gag gun that said ‘BANG’.

Nerves rattled around inside her. Something was definitely wrong, she could tell. But how could she fix it?

Maybe she could convince Master Fu to give her the horse miraculous? She could drop into Gotham as Ladybug for a little while and check up on them? Sure, she had no idea who her soulmate was, but she knew who they hung out with. She should at least make sure they’re okay.

A few hours later she was dumped unceremoniously onto a Gotham rooftop.

She looked up at the portal Master Fu had dropped her through and made a rude hand gesture, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked to the edge of the roof, dusting herself off as she went, and looked over the side.

Wow, this place definitely looked like the most dangerous city in the world. She could see a guy holding a gun while walking an old lady across the street it was so bad.

She pulled out her phone and looked up a picture of the vigilantes that she’d seen on her chest. Nightwing… Batgirl…  Batman…

Man, did they have to wear such dark colors? It was night! How dare they do the smart thing and make it hard to see them!

Fine. Time to wonder around and pray, she supposed.

She had been considering detransforming and seeing if she could buy a coffee when she heard a click behind her head.

Ah. Fuck.

~~~

Part 1/21, 34k words in all

Next

The version on AO3 was edited by me to make it better (in my opinion) but this is the original version if you'd prefer that

You didn’t really give me any specifics so I’m sorry if this didn’t turn out like you wanted. You were probably expecting fluff but uhhhhhh,,, don’t know why you were asking ME for that --

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (21)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 9,2K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Tag List:  here

Notes: SO! I hope you guys like it. I’m sorry for the delay. Next one will probably take some time as well. I’m an anarchist now, and updates will come out as I finish the chapters or once a week, no schedules.

PLEASE! Tell me if there is anything you would like to read regarding cute/suggestive scenes so I can include them <3

                                                      ////

    You closed the door behind you with a heavy sigh.

    It had been just a few hours ─ if you could call about eight hours just a few ─ but it felt like time enough to last for a week; the exhaustion from a day too long crushing you mercilessly. You hesitated for a second, staring at the woody surface as you held the doorknob, before letting out another sigh while dropping your shoulders. The soft thud that filled your ears as you rested your forehead on the door was somewhat comforting, emphasizing the silence that met you in the living room.

    Fucking finally.

    Perhaps you were just too overwhelmed by all the things that happened along the day but as you wandered your eyes to the floor ─ meeting the familiar surface under your feet ─ there was an impossibly tight feeling in your chest that urged to be released. The realization that you were indeed at home crawled you little by little, getting to your mind and making you tear up. You never thought that day would come to an end but then you were right there in your living room, enjoying the comforting silence of your home.

    You inhaled deeply, feeling every single corner of your lungs being filled by the air and holding it in as you closed your eyes to focus on everything that you shut away inside your head. The flickering thought that crossed your mind ─ two dark orbs that dived into your soul; a hurt twinkle dancing in them ─ made your breath falter for a second. The urge to cry hit you like a truck, and as soon as you choked on your own emotions and memories, the moment died in your throat.

    You couldn’t let Paris see you crying for him.

    You opened your eyes slowly, frowning as you focused on the complete lack of any sounds in the dorm. Why was it so silent in here? You detached your forehead from the door, turning around with narrowed eyes that roamed around the place just to find it empty. What was going on? You finally placed your eyes on the TV ─ turned off, therefore explaining the lack of the background noises ─, confused as to why Paris wasn’t watching it as usual.

    “Paris?” You called unsurely, stepping away from the door to get a better look inside the house, “Paris?” You tried again, knocking on her door before opening it and peeking inside her room. No one to be seen. You frowned as you closed the door, divided between feeling relieved or worried about her absence.

    Did she mention anything to you?

    You roamed your eyes around the room again, looking for any piece of paper that could vaguely resemble a note but finding nothing in sight. There was something definitely wrong here. It wasn’t like Paris to go out so late at night… Especially without a previous warning. Did something happen to her? You pursed your lips, fumbling through your pockets to find your phone ─ hopeful of any kind of message or missed calls ─ and setting your sadness and tiredness aside for a moment.

    No message or missed calls.

    As much as you wanted to be alone ─ finally allowed to mourn over your poorly made decisions ─, you didn’t want to be crying while Paris could be out there in need of a friend. At the same time, the realization that it was yet another thing to deal with at the end of this excruciating day didn’t help much. The way your eyes turned watery again brought another heavy sigh out of your lips as you rubbed your face in distress, trying to organize your thoughts.

    You pinched your nose bridge ─ index and thumb holding it firmly ─ before you let your fingers slide to make some pressure on your eyes. The motion ─ the closest thing that you would have from a calming massage ─ was barely able to ease your nerves, relieving the pent-up stress in an unsatisfying way that would have to be enough for now. You felt your eyebrows knitting as you tried to hold back your tears; lips quivering and chin trembling.

    You had to organize your thoughts… You should be thinking… You should be doing something… You should make a decision… Why weren’t you calling her? Why were your feet stuck on the floor? Why weren’t you running or yelling or crying or –

    The creaking sound snapped you out of your thoughts and your eyes glued to the entrance as the opening door revealed a smiling Paris carrying some plastic bags. You let go of your phone to stare at her blankly; arms dropping to your sides as she closed the door behind her. The way she walked to the counter ─ placing the bags there without much thought ─ was an incredible indicator that she was fine as hell and you were worrying over nothing.

   Honestly? You didn’t even have the energy to be mad at her.

    “You’re here” There was something under her tone that raised your suspicion immediately. The sentence hung in somewhere between excitement and acknowledgment, and you couldn’t help but frown at her input “I bought us some stuff” She shifted to a somewhat knowing tone, looking at you with glinting eyes as she gestured to the bags.

    Usually, you would ask what was going on with her. Or at least you would study each motion and pattern she had ever presented to you so you could figure it out. But not today. No… Not today. Today you just wanted to go to your bed, tuck yourself inside your blankets and bawl your eyes out for rejecting Hyunjin.

    You wanted to suffer for something you put yourself into and were now regretting. You wanted to be alone, and safe, and able to ignore anything that could add to your already stressful day. You wanted to ignore Paris and any strange antics she was displaying right now for whatever reason she had.

    You wanted to feel at home.  

  “Yeah… Yeah, I’m here” You agreed mindlessly, averting your eyes to your door and nodding your head at it “And now I’m going there,” You said, forcing a small smile as you took the first step to your safety nest. You didn’t miss the way her expression dropped ─ a mix of shock, confusion, and upsetness going through her face ─ but you choose to ignore it as you took another step towards your goal.

  “Wait” She blurted; eyes darkening as she looked at you “Don’t you want to tell me about your day?” She sounded conflicted ─ maybe even offended ─ as she crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side “I thought… I thought that since I missed classes yesterday and we didn’t have much time to talk…” She mumbled unsurely, frowning before averting her eyes “And today…” She trailed off, darting her eyes back to you.

    Today?

    There was just so much one could ignore and pretend not to notice at all… As much as you wanted to believe it was all a coincidence, you didn’t really think that Paris would show up with your favorite ice cream and wanting to talk about your day ─ especially today ─ if she didn’t know anything. You stopped in your tracks, sighing before turning around to look at her with narrowed eyes.

    “What about it?” You asked just to throw her off, watching as she licked her lips before biting them ─ a quirk that showed up every time she was anxious ─ and swallowing dry “Do you have anything to say to me?” It was clear by your tone that you had picked up on something, and the way she darted her eyes around the room to avoid yours was a good indication that she knew it too.

    Paris and Chan were working together.

    You should have seen it earlier ─ actually, it had been happening quite a lot to you lately, hm? ─ but you had no doubts now. Of course, it could be just another gossip going around… Maybe someone had seen both of you? No… Paris wouldn’t just believe in a rumor like this… Not to the point of showing up with your favorite ice cream and asking about your day… Not to the point to get that disappointed.

    On the other side, there was someone who Paris would believe on the spot… Someone that knew far too well why you were waiting for Hyunjin. Someone who knew your feelings and his. Someone who was encouraging you to go after him. Someone who tried to trick him and make him jealous just so he would do something about it. Someone who made sure to clear his real intentions up before walking away… Someone who had been suspiciously close to Paris lately.  

    There was no way they weren’t working together.

  “No… It’s not that I have something to say but…” You watched as she uncrossed her arms, letting them drop to her sides, “I mean… It’s just that I thought… I guessed you would…” She floundered before clearing her throat; the nervous antics confirming your assumptions “… Want some ice cream after a long day?” She risked, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else.

    “Unbelievable” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

    “Fine!” She whined, pouting as she stomped the floor “Chan told me you and Hyunjin had a talk today, okay?” She confessed bitterly as you threw her a disappointed look “I’m sorry but I am waiting for that ship to sail for too long to not be curious!” She said as if it was a good way to defend herself “Can you blame me for wanting to hear that you finally got someone who loves you?” She tried to appeal, getting another scoff.

    “Yes, I can” You said matter-of-factly, huffing before looking away from her for a second “It’s my personal life, Paris! You shouldn’t be meddling with it!” You scolded, returning your gaze to meet hers “Now what? You and Chan will be like two old ladies gossiping about my life behind my back?” You sneered, huffing “My love life is none of your business” You reminded her, tone wavering slightly with the anger boiling inside you.

    You weren’t quite sure what made you react the way you did.

    It was like your mind had split up into two different trains of thoughts that were totally opposing each other. On one side, you felt the need to be focused and rational, so you pursed your lips and tried to stay composed, pretending to be calm on the outside. On the other side, the sadness was giving way to anger and it boiled and burned you in the unhealthiest way possible.

    You wanted to scream and cry and fight and be mad and… Anything.

    You wanted anything that could put all your fears away.

    Maybe that was why you were being such an asshole.

    “Hey” Paris blurted in surprise; brows arching as she stared at you without a clue of what was happening “What the hell?” She didn’t sound offended as she said it but lost, frowning at you while tilting her head “You don’t seem too happy… Didn’t he… I mean… I thought you would be really happy right now” She admitted, trying to play dumb and not give away his feelings.

    “Yes, he did” You answered blandly; a faux calm settling in your face as you stared at her blankly “He confessed; if that’s what you’re wondering” Of course, you knew far too well that this was exactly what she wanted to know. You knew that your next line would get you into an argument but somehow you didn’t care; you even urged for it “I rejected him” You stated simply, watching for her reaction.

    The expectation raised on you as Paris seemed shocked by your input; eyes lost in yours as she didn’t have a clue of what to do now. You studied the lack of expression on her face, catching the slight change when a hundred thoughts seemed to cross her head at a time. You pursed your lips as her brows slowly knitted together ─ as if each second that went by made her realize what you had just said ─ until she finally frowned at you, mad eyes connecting to yours.

    “You did what?!” Her tone was heavy and stern, a reprehension that fueled you as she scrunched her nose to show you how she despised your decision “Y/N!” That was it! That was the anger you were looking for “Why would you do that?! You like him!” She inquired in dismay; eyes diving into yours to find any signs that could explain your behavior.

    “What does it have to do with anything?” You knew you were being obnoxious and Paris swallowed it hook, line and sinker. The way her eyes glinted in disappointment and outrage fueled you to keep pushing her boundaries “I don’t get why you’re so interested… It’s not like you want him anyway” She scoffed, averting her eyes to try and not take her anger out on you.

    “You know what?” She sighed, still refusing to look at you “I don’t get you” She shook her head in wonder; the grimace present in her face insinuating how pissed off she was “I don’t get what is going on inside your head… I really don’t” She admitted, returning her gaze to you “You’re being ridiculous and I know you know it” She added “I just don’t understand why” She stared at you, disgusted at your antics.

    “Maybe you should ask Chan” You taunted, getting a scoff as she rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look at the ceiling in a fed-up manner. You watched her curiously, waiting for her to blow up but she didn’t. Paris returned her gaze to you once more and threw you a look that almost made you ashamed of yourself.

    Almost.

    Because that was exactly what you wanted.

    You longed for her outburst.

    “I’m not going to play this game” She smirked knowingly; surprising you as she seemed to pick up on your plans “If you want to fight, you need to do way better than that” She grimaced, shaking her head to show that she wouldn't give what you wanted “If you have all this energy to keep bullshiting me then go to Hyunjin and sort things out, Y/N” She sighed, scowling “What do you expect me to do? Yell at you?” She scoffed, arching her brows skeptically.

    “Yes…” You didn’t intend to answer her so honestly but before you knew it, the word hung in the air heavily, making you shrink. You lowered your head, peeking at her reaction just to see her expression morphing into a surprised one, clearly not expecting you to actually answer her “I mean… No, of course not” You lied, voice so low that you couldn’t even convince yourself.

    “I don’t understand” She admitted simply, tilting her head in wonder. You noticed how she started moving away from the counter ─ careful as a hunter afraid that their prey might run away ─ and came in your direction with hesitant steps “Why would you want me to yell at you?” She asked with caution, glancing at you unsurely.

    “Because I deserve it…” You muttered under your breath, prompting her to hum in confusion, questioning you again without any words “Because I deserve it!” You finally snapped; head going up to allow you to meet her eyes. She yelped ─ startled at your break out ─, looking at you with wide confused eyes that couldn’t grasp what was going on “Because I’m a coward, Paris!” You added; voice shaking as you let the tears roll down your face and eyes overflowing with hurt and regret.

    “Y/N…” She mumbled; pity oozing from her eyes.

    “Don’t Y/N me!” You cut her off “Yell at me, Paris! For Lord’s sake! Yell at me! Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me I’m awful! Anything!” You wailed, hand going to rub your face and wipe away some of the tears “Anything! Just tell me that I’m a coward! Tell me that I do nothing but run away! Tell me…” You hicked up, choking on your own tears as you let yourself slowly go to the ground.

    You curled up as you sat, rocking your body back and forward.

    “Tell me I don’t deserve him… Tell me I blew everything up…” You begged, raising your eyes to meet hers. You could feel your face twisting in a pained grimace that threw her off for a second “Tell me I’m a coward, Paris… Please, tell me I’m a coward…” You couldn’t help but curl up again, hands pressing hard against your eyes as you let all your feelings out of your chest; the crying loud and ungraceful.

    She stared at you silently; gaze burning your skin.

    “Why don’t you yell at me?” You mewled; swollen eyes going back to meet hers in a suffering question that you knew she wouldn’t answer “Why can’t you do this, Paris? I’ve been bad… I did everything wrong again… I messed everything up and I can’t stop doing it!” She kept her silent stare at you, and the lack of response prompted you to keep rambling “I run and run and run and run… And I keep coming back to the same mistakes again, Paris” You vented; hand going to rub your running nose and wet cheeks.

    Again, she just stared at you.

    “Say something!” You yelled, eyebrows knitting together in renewed anger “Anything, Paris! Hit me if you want! I don’t know… Just…” You tried to fight back the quivering in your lips, tangling yourself with your own arms before lowering your head again “Just hurt me…” You pleaded, shutting your eyes as much as you could “Gimme a reason to cry, Paris…” You choked on your own words, hiding your face from her as you burst out in tears once more “I don’t wanna cry for him” You mumbled, voice muffled.

    The steps echoed in the room along with your crying but you didn’t raise your head to follow her path, shrinking when you felt two arms wrapping you. The warmth provided was very welcomed, and you leaned on her touch; the unexpected tenderness being enough for you to pour everything out of your chest. You felt Paris kissing the top of your head, no words being said as she silently supported you through your breakdown.    

    “I’m so sorry” You howled but what you really meant was thank you.

                                                       ////

   You stared at the dancing branches above you.

  The light beams that managed to get through the heavy layer of leaves decorating said branches painted the air with thin yellowish strings that caught your attention. You let your mind wander as your eyes followed every single notch that came together into a messy crease pattern, getting distracted by the falling leaves that blocked the beams every once in a while. The moment meant to be calming and reassuring to your soul but you couldn’t help but feel melancholic as the grass underneath you tickled your skin, reminding you of brighter days.

    It was kind of funny how the blue sky peeking at you behind the treetop, the insufferably shiny sun casting beams all around, and the perfectly shaped clouds couldn’t brighten up your mood. As much as you could tell that this was a beautiful day ─ maybe the most beautiful day of the whole season ─, you couldn’t feel healed by any of this. You could see it was all dazzling and colorful and perfect… Yet, you felt exactly the same as if it was a cloudy rainy day with nothing but grey to take in.

  The wind fanned all over the place; a soft puff that intensified the branches’ dance and disturbed the sunbeams’ path, allowing it to hit right at your face. The forced warmth wasn’t enjoyable and the sudden brightness that hit your eyes was even less welcomed, prompting you to close them shut. The motion was harmless and it wouldn’t bring you any suffering on any other day but something about it brought you everything you were trying to push aside right now.

    Perhaps it was the fact that you cried so much on the day before that your swollen eyes felt too heavy ─ even if you had plenty of time to get used to it by noon ─ and closing them just reminded you of your own feelings. Perhaps it was the fact that closing your eyes brought you the urge to cry again ─ even if you had already cried enough for an entire lifespan ─, reminding you of the sadness you pretended not to feel right now. Perhaps it was the fact that the blackness and emptiness behind your eyelids served as a screen to project all of the details ─ his eyes, his mole, his nose, his smile, his dimples, his tears… Just all of him ─ that you didn’t want to remember.

    You exhaled heavily.

    Perhaps it was because you were a fucking masochist that decided to lie down under the very same tree that witnessed everything… From your laughter ─ such as when you caught him pretending to read a book ─ to your bonding ─ such as when he cried while venting about his insecurities ─ to your confession ─ such as when he kissed you as if you were the only thing that mattered in his world ─ to your departure… Such as when you walked away from him, leaving all your true feelings unspoken.

    Yeah, perhaps it was because you were a masochist.

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” You snapped your eyes open, startled at the sudden intrusion as Chan’s voice made its way to your head “Do you mind explaining to me why the fuck are you lying down under this damn tree instead of making out with the bloody guy I had to trick to confess his own feelings to you?!” You sighed; eyes softening into a vulnerable gaze as you shifted to sit down and look at him “Because I sure as hell don’t have a fucking clue!” He groaned, clasping his hands together as he met your gaze in a demanding and inquiring glare.

    “I don’t know what you want me to say” You confessed, exhaling heavily as you crossed your legs, resting your arms on your lap as you lifted your chin to fully return his gaze. He scoffed ─ closing his hands on a fist as he bit his lips to hold back a comment that would have probably hurt you ─ before throwing his head back to huff at the sky. Chan returned his eyes to you with nothing but outrage, grimacing before pinching his nose bridge tiredly, trying to stay composed.

    The façade didn’t last even for a second.

    “Say that you fucking love him!” He snapped, floundering his hands in the air to try and calm down “Wasn’t that what you wanted to say to him?” He asked in distress, eyes urging for your answer “Isn’t this how you feel?” He insisted, offering you a lost and yet frustrated look that prompted you to sigh “Just go and kiss him! I don’t know!” He pressed his temples, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily to try and organize his thoughts.

    You stared at him blankly, studying his upset features for a few seconds before you lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your lap. Contrary to what you would have expected, the sudden outburst didn’t startle you. If nothing else, his scolding felt like a warm comforting hug and a pat on the back. It was just what you needed. The way he yelled those words at you ─ demanding to know why you had chickened out like that ─ was just like hearing everything going on inside your head out loud.

    There was something about hearing it from him and not from yourself ─ from actually hearing it and not just torturing yourself with those thoughts ─ that fulfilled your needs. It felt real. It was like all those words and feelings weren’t just inside your head anymore. You weren’t the one mourning and reliving everything. You weren’t the only one who despised your actions; plus, you could see it plastered over his face in a way that was impossible to ignore.

      And you didn’t want to.

      As you looked at him, you felt the urge to take care of Chan… To calm him down… To soothe him. This feeling ─ the kindness that finally ran through your veins instead of the hatred and contempt ─ was strong enough to distract you from your mind. Maybe that was what you really needed. Although you could reach out for Chan─ place your hand on his ankle and squeeze it reassuringly ─, you couldn’t do the same for yourself.

    You didn’t deserve it.

    The disappointment you held for your actions was too much to allow you to be this kind to someone so unworthy of it as you. The way you saw it, there were just two possible ways to deal with it. You either cried everything out ─ and you didn’t think you had the right to do it ─ or you relived it over and over again ─ punishing yourself for being like this.

    There was no time to be kind to someone like you.

    But you could be kind to Chan.

    Maybe it could make you worthy of something other than hatred.

    You didn’t need any words as you lifted your eyes to meet his; thumb rubbing circles on his skin and lips twisting in a small smile that was meant to tranquilize him. You sensed it wasn’t the right time to talk ─ as you could see in his embarrassed and regretful eyes ─, so you waited patiently for him to say something, giving him enough time to think about whatever was going on inside his head. He let out a heavy sigh, sitting down across you and taking your hand into his, holding it gently as he stared straight into your eyes with a tiredness you never saw before.

    “I’m sorry” He huffed, hold tightening just a little bit as if to say that he meant it “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like this” You couldn’t help but fight back a smile, finding it amusing how he was so apologetic about something that made you feel so at ease. You shook your head ─ a slow motion that was meant to conceive how untroubled you were about his behavior ─ before smiling at him, dismissing the idea that you were somewhat offended by anything he said “I’m just really tired…” He sighed, rubbing his face in distress.

    “Why? What happened?” You asked softly, and he scoffed before looking away in disbelief. As you stared at his profile, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes but you choose not to comment on it “Do you need my keys?” You offered, tilting your head as you tried to read his expression but getting nothing out of it.

    “Are you really going to ignore why I’m here?” He asked grudgingly, returning his eyes to you “Y/N… I thought you loved him” He admitted “I really did… I…” He chuckled bitterly, pinching his nose bridge before sighing one more time “I spent all night long watching ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ and seeing Hyunjin crying and eating everything he could find in his way” He confessed, and the picture was somewhat funny and yet depressing.

    You didn’t answer him; there was nothing to say.

    “If I’m gonna be honest with you… I thought you guys were meant for each other” He scoffed “I thought you loved him as he loves you… I thought you guys shared so many struggles that you could heal one another… I thought…” He hesitated, letting his shoulders drop as he lowered his gaze to his lap “I thought you would say yes, Y/N…” He confessed, clearly disappointed at you.

    He let the silence hang in the air, expecting you to say something.

    You didn’t.

    “Nothing?” He sighed “Really?” He raised his gaze to meet yours.

    “I don’t know what you want from me, Chan” You tried your best to let your tone unwavering but you failed, and you knew it. You noticed how his eyes twinkled, picking up on your oddness “What do you want me to do?” You asked obnoxiously, scoffing as you looked away “Lie to him?” You felt your lips twitching slightly; the lie tasting too bitter for you to keep a straight face.

    “Haven’t you done that already?” He asked knowingly; voice softening as he seemed to figure out everything “Y/N…” He smiled kindly; the corner of his lips sinking just enough to show his dimples as he played with your fingers “Why are you lying to yourself?” He didn’t sound judgingly but gentle, trying to look into your eyes but failing as you avoided his gaze for dear life “You love him” He stated matter-of-factly, chuckling in relief.

    “No, I don’t,” You scoffed, still refusing to meet his eyes.

    “So what is this for?” He asked, hand going to your face.

    You allowed him to lift your chin and guide you to look at him, shivering as his finger slid from there to the corner of your eyes. You knew far too well what he was going to find there. You pursed your lips as firm as you could, trying to hold back everything that you wanted to pour out of your chest. He caressed your skin gently, and you could feel the faint watery sensation there as he let go of your face to show you his finger; a single drop balanced in there.

    You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge it.

    He chose to stay silent, waiting for you to be comfortable enough to say something. Anything. The way your entire face twitched and spasmed ─ especially your jaw that seemed settled in quivering nonstop ─ brought the realization that it was too late. You couldn’t fight back your tears anymore. You threw your face back, opening your eyes in a vain attempt to allow the soft wind to dry your tears away but it didn’t. The way you clenched your jaw and tensioned your throat did nothing but bring you pain before you finally let everything out, bursting into tears.

    “Why are you doing this to me?” You howled, choking on your own feelings as you threw Chan a look that was meant to be a glare but turned out to be more of a cry for help “I don’t want to talk about it… I don’t want to feel it, Chan!” Both of your hands shot to your eyes, pressing them firmly to try and hold back the tears “I don’t want to love him!” You cried, shaking your head repeatedly “I don’t want to!” You insisted, voice stressing in a pained mewl.

    “But he loves you, Y/N” He pointed out carefully, placing his hand on your head to stroke your hair gently “He really does” He reassured you, body sliding on the grass ─ the soft sound giving him away ─ to get a place beside you. He let his hand trail down to your back before sneaking to your shoulder and trying to pull you closer to him but you didn’t give in to his touch “There is no need for you to run away… He’s already yours” He hunched his back to try and take a look at your face but you still had your hands over your eyes “Why not take this chance?” He tried again, and this time it was too much for you.

  “Because I’m a coward, Chan!” You snapped, removing your hands from your eyes and glaring at him “Because I’m a fucking coward that can’t face my own feelings!” You cried, connecting your eyes to his even though you couldn’t clearly see him “Is that what you want me to say?!” You let the corner of your lips quiver, knitting your eyebrows together “Do you want to hear that I won’t ever have someone to love because I’ll keep running away from it?!” You choked, overwhelmed by everything that crashed over your feelings.

    You threw your head back, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

    “Do you want to hear that no matter how much I run, I always end up in the same place?!” You scoffed ─ almost a whimper as your throat tightened by the second ─ before returning your eyes to him “No matter how much I run, Chan… I run and run and run and run… And I always…” You took a deep breath, air wavering to get into your lungs “Always” You emphasized, averting your eyes from him “End up alone, Chan” You muttered, hugging yourself as you lower your gaze.

    “Y/N…” He whispered, shocked by everything you spilled on him.

    “I don’t want to be alone, Chan” You howled, throwing your arms around him as you shoved your face on the crook of his neck, letting your tears soak his shirt. He wrapped you up in his arms, rubbing gentle circles on your back as he let his lips graze over your strands “Just don’t leave me alone…” You pleaded in a choked way that prompted him to shush you.

    “Never…” He promised quietly “I would never”

                                                           ////

    How exactly did you end up in this situation?

    You cut the beef on your plate awkwardly as you avoided looking him in the eyes, the scratching cringe noise making you shrink and grimace as you fixed your gaze on the fork and the knife in your hands. Now that you thought about it, maybe you should have weighted your options a little bit more… Wisely. It was too late for that, though, as Han sighed before dropping his cutlery in his plate, raising his eyes to stare at you uncomfortably.

    “Lemme see if I got this right…” He said, covering his mouth and muffling his voice as he tried to manage swallowing down his food and talking at the same time “You’re asking me advice about your relationship with Hyunjin?” He stressed out the word love, throwing you a skeptical look “Because I hate him” He added in confusion, frowning at you.

    “Yeah…” You cleared your throat, refusing to look in his eyes “Pretty much yeah” You risked a glance at him, bringing the food to your mouth as you tried to buy some time. He stared at you fixedly; head slightly tilted down, which made him look judging and attentive as you munched your food. It went down your throat as gently as a rock, prompting you to cough “I mean… Is tha such a weird thing?” You shrugged but the answer was quite obvious.

    Yes.

    “Kinda” He chuckled, arching his eyebrow funnily “I mean… You stumble over me on the way to have lunch” He raised his index finger in a counting motion “You comment on how Hyunjin missed today’s classes and how Paris saw him wandering around and went after him, leaving you alone” He pulled the second finger “You have puffed eyes and dark circles and look like literal shit” He pulled the third finger, and you couldn’t help but to chortle.

    “Oh, Thank you!” You chirped mockingly, lifting your head so you could fully stare at him, “Such a nice thing to say” You pointed out playfully, getting him to pale and deadpan at you for a second. You could almost hear his system rebooting but it didn’t prevent you from laughing at his face “I’m just kidding” You decided to take pity on him.

    “That was totally not what I meant!” He reassured you eagerly; system finally back and eyes settling for desperation “You’re beautiful as fuck, I swear!” He rushed to say, frowning at his own words “No! I mean… Not like beautiful in a flirting way, you know? Just like beautiful as… As in beauty and... Hm…” He rambled, seeming embarrassed as he trailed off and stared at your grin “You know what? You can do the talking” He sighed, holding his cutlery again and shoving food in his mouth.

    “I think the saddest part is that you’re still being awkward as fuck around me” You mentioned, leaning back on your chair as you tilted your head and looked at him teasingly “The bright side is that you always were kinda weird anyway” You joked, prompting him to lightly kick you under the table and making you laugh.

    “Ha-Ha! You’re hilarious” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief “Pardon me for not wanting to make it more awkward than it already is” He grumbled; mouth making soundless complaints as he took another bite at his food “I mean─ I literally confessed to your all sweaty and smelly and mouth full of sauce… God, that was terrible” He cringed, hand going to hide his face “And then I go all–” He scoffed, taking his hands away from his face “You’re so beautiful” He spoke in a silly low tone, mocking himself.

    “If it makes you feel any better this is the first time that I genuinely laugh in three days” You offered him, face twisted in a playful frown “Also… You weren’t that smelly and sweaty… You didn’t practice hard enough that day, I think” You taunted, and he snorted before looking to the ceiling and huff.

    “Okay… So first: No, it doesn’t make me happy” He knitted his eyebrows together, throwing you an inquiring look “You literally just said you’ve been sad for three days” He pointed out, eyes widening slightly to emphasize his sentence “And two: Coach practically shoved that ball up in my ass! How can you say that?!” He whined, grimacing grudgingly at you.

    You laughed at that ─ like wholeheartedly laughed at that ─, and for a second you actually believed that your attempt to brush aside your feelings was working out. Silly you. It struck you again ─ just like a truck ─ and your laughter died in your throat little by little until the twinkle in your eyes vanished like the flame of a blown candle. Something about it must have caught his attention because Han mimicked your expression, staring fixedly at your face as he waited for you to voice out your thoughts.

     You didn’t.

    “Everything fine?” He asked concerned as you didn’t offer anything back. Hell no… No, it’s not fine. You could never voice it out loud, though, even if it was the truth, “What’s with that face?” He risked, arching his brows to invite you to answer his question.

    “Got it when I was born” You tried to joke it off.

    “I see your jokes didn’t get any better” He taunted; a playful tone trying to mask the worry you could see in his eyes. He cleared his throat before reaching out for you; hand slowly slinking its way to lay on top of yours in a reassuring motion. The situation itself made you fight back a smile, and you found it somewhat cute the way he tried to push aside his shyness to make sure you were okay.

    “Tough crowd” You smirked at him, and as much as he rolled his eyes playfully, you knew he wasn’t buying your cunningness. Wasn’t the fact that you could deceive neither of you kinda funny? You sighed heavily as you lowered your eyes, knowing that pretending there was nothing going on inside your head wouldn’t get you anywhere “Hyunjin confessed to me” You admitted dejectedly, peeking at him to see his reaction.

    Contrary to what you expected, Han didn’t seem surprised or enraged at all, deadpanning at your statement for a few seconds before clearing his throat again and lowering his gaze. He didn’t say anything for a while, diving deep into his thoughts and pursing his lips as his eyes changed from time to time. Maybe you shouldn’t discuss your love life with a friend that confessed to you not that long ago… But now was a little bit too late for that.

      Were you capable of doing something right at this point? You didn’t think so. You sighed heavily as you studied his features, wondering how could you have put so much unnecessary stuff on everybody’s shoulders in so little time. To be fair, you had a lot on your plate right now… It didn’t mean you had the right to fill someone else’s cup, though. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, ready to push the subject aside and move on to any other thing but Han beat you to it.

    “So you love him?” Han’s tone wasn’t really loud but it startled you just like he had shouted right to your ears and then hit you in the face. You didn’t even answer him, mouth closing shut and eyes staring at him blankly for a few seconds as your system seemed to reboot “You wouldn’t tell me he confessed to you if you weren’t interested…” He mused, narrowing his eyes at your reaction “But you rejected him” He assumed wisely, stating it in a matter-of-factly way that made you wonder when did he start to actually be able to figure out what was going through your head.

     There was no way of taking it back now.

    “Love is a strong word” You mumbled, averting your eyes from him and fixing it on your plate again; fork poking the food and scrambling things all over. Well… As people say: You are what you eat. You grimaced bitterly at the sight, grossed out at the mixture you did yourself and dropping your fork with a clink before swallowing down the lump on your throat.

    “Yeah… It is quite strong” He agreed softly, almost sounding mindlessly before he squeezed your hand once to invite you to look at him “But is it the right word?” He questioned solemnly, and you could only be thankful for not giving in to his squeeze and refusing to meet his eyes, or else he would have seen things you didn’t want to show to anyone.

    Things you were trying to hide from yourself.

    The truth was that the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced through Wednesday and Thursday brought you a realization: There was no way to fight those feelings away. Well… If you were really being honest with yourself there might be a way but you just didn’t have enough willpower to succeed in it. If you had feelings for him but you didn’t want to and you couldn’t fight them away, there was just one other option available for you… Ignore them.

    Initially, you felt guilty for trying to fight away your feelings. Especially with how harsh you were about it while rejecting Hyunjin. Although you weren’t rude, you weren’t gentle as well… You were raw, to say the very least. You knew how much it meant for him to face his fears and voice his feelings out loud. You knew hard it must have been for him to say that he loved you and wanted to be with you even though he was terrified of bonding. Now, you couldn’t feel guilty at all.

    Now, you couldn’t help but think that you should feel proud of what you were doing. So what If you were running away from your feelings? So what if you were scared to handle this maturely? So what if you didn’t want to risk your mental health for him? You weren’t meant to do this. It wasn’t your job to take. You shouldn’t feel sorry for protecting yourself from the instability that was bound to come from this relationship.

     You shouldn’t feel sorry for running away again.

    It didn’t matter how many times you chanted it to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel guilty anyway. In retrospect, you couldn’t remember a time when you managed to overcome your feelings… You couldn’t point out one time that you didn’t give up and decided to run away… You couldn’t point out one time that you fought for dear life for something you wanted. And it destroyed you. You couldn’t help but run away from your problems and every single time you did it, nothing was resolved.

    Your father? You watched as he walked away from your life and you did nothing about it. You let him abandon you and your mother and when he came back ─ as if nothing had happened ─, you let him walk into your mother’s life just so you could follow your own path. Your mother? You left her behind just like your father; ran away from all the problems she got you and herself into and didn’t even look behind. You let her with the one man you could never trust for the rest of your life and pretended you weren’t as bad as him in the most hypocritical way you could ever have done. Hyunjin? You rejected him as if you didn’t love him as much as he loves you… You settled on finding a reason why you shouldn’t love him back and held on to it for dear life.

    Maybe, if you could convince yourself he wasn’t good enough for you, then you could finally let him go. Maybe, if you ignore your feelings like you had been doing throughout all your life, you would eventually grow used to it. Just like, eventually, the pain of being left behind was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the disgust of acting like your father was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the façade that you weren’t just like him was manageable to maintain. Just like, eventually, you would be capable to manage to not feel affected by your feelings for him.

    You didn’t need to fight it because, eventually, it wouldn’t even affect you anymore. You didn’t need to be a fighter ─ to be fair, you weren’t really a good one ─, you just needed to be a good runner. And that you could do for dear life. You were a hella of a runner and if you needed you would be the best of them all. You would run away from your feelings for dear life. You would proudly and actively pretend that not seeing him in the morning didn’t affect you. You would convince yourself that knowing he couldn’t even bear to go to the same classes as you didn’t affect you.

     You would convince yourself that this was your best choice.                        

    You would convince yourself that the tight feeling in your chest meant nothing but an overattachment that you would be able to manage eventually. You would convince yourself that the fact that you kept turning your back to people didn’t affect you… That you weren’t afraid of being abandoned again… That you weren’t afraid of not being enough… That you weren’t afraid of being crazy just like your mother… That you weren’t afraid of being untrustworthy just like your father… That you weren’t afraid of running over and over and over–

     “Hm… Y/N?” Han called you unsurely, trying to catch your attention by waving his hand right in front of your face “You’re still with me?” He asked jokingly; a vain attempt to lighten up your mood. You blinked a few times, trying to regain consciousness. What were you talking about before? You didn’t even remember anymore “So… Do you love him?’ He cleared his throat, searching for your eyes.

    “What I feel doesn’t really matter” You dismissed his question, though your answer made it quite obvious “What matters is that I don’t think he’s the right person for me” You lied but the scoff you got as an answer was a good indication that Han wasn’t buying it at all “And Paris and Chan don’t seem to share my vision… And I was wondering if…” You glanced at him unsurely “You know?” You grimaced sheepishly.

    “You were wondering if I wasn’t up to badmouth him since I hate the dude” He completed for you, arching his brow amusedly “You want me to say that he’s a fuckboy and there is no way that he loves you for real and you shouldn’t fall for his charms, right?” He licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair “You want me to say that he’ll cheat on you and hurt you because he’s a huge piece of shit” He added, and you felt your throat itching to refute him, and yet you urged to believe in it.

    “Yeah… Kinda” You nodded, getting a chuckle as an answer.

    “This can never get out of here…” He muttered, moving forward to lean on the table as he cupped his mouth to mockingly pretend to tell you a secret “And I mean never” He emphasized; eyes glinting in amusement. You nodded, confused as to why he was acting so lighthearted to the fact that you just implied you loved Hyunjin and needed reassurance that not acting on it was the right choice.

    “Just spill it” You rushed him, frowning in confusion.

    “I don’t think I can give you what you need” He admitted, and to say that you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. You gawked at him, surprised to see him shrugging his shoulders as he returned to his seat “I know I tried to meddle a lot in your love life… And I know I said he just wanted to get into yours and Paris’ pants that day” He coughed to hide his embarrassment, eyes darting around before fixing on you again “But the truth is that… He did a lot for you guys” He said grudgingly.

   There was no fucking way.

    “You’re kidding me, right?” You scoffed “What happened to your attitude?! You hated him!” You scowled; the rage suddenly building up. What were you going to do now?! You were counting on it! You needed to hear someone supporting your decisions! “Now what?! The fact that he fucked the whole campus doesn’t matter anymore?! The fact that he’s always pissing you off?! The fact that he’s annoying to the point of being obnoxious?!” You slammed the table, though it wasn’t strong enough to catch anyone’s attention.

      “I don’t believe I’ll have to say it…” He sighed; the grimace that narrowed his eyes ─ as well as the whining and ridiculous whimpering ─ showing that he wasn’t happy to say what he was about to say “So what about the fact that he went way out of his way to help Paris?” He scowled as he defended him “Or the fact that you’re constantly defending him when I roast him?” He added, eyebrows moving to emphasize his point “Or the fact that both of you always seem comfortable around him even though he’s a dick? Or the fact that you literally let him kiss you on the stairs?” He pursed his lips judgingly, and you couldn’t help but feel your face burning at that.

    “It was a fake kiss!” You retorted eagerly “And what about the fact that you were always dismissing all those arguments?! What about the fact that I don’t want to hear his good points but his bad ones?! What about the fact that I’m freaking the hell out here?!” You yelled, getting up from your chair and placing your hands on the table to look more threatening “You were supposed to tell me that he sucks, Han” You whined “I need you to help me hate the idea of being with him” You sighed tiredly, returning to your seat.

    “No, Y/N…” He offered you a small smile, reaching for your hands once again “You need to face your emotions” He said softly, rubbing circles on your skin “You were the one to encourage me to tell my father my real thoughts… My dreams…” He sounded grateful, and you couldn’t help but stare deeply into his eyes “I was afraid too, you know? I was afraid I would disappoint him… I was afraid… Well, it doesn’t matter” He chuckled, shrugging “The point is that you’re afraid of your feelings… You’re afraid of being hurt” He moved his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently.

    You lowered your gaze, unable to look him in the eyes right now.

    “And it’s normal” He reassured you “But to be honest with you… I don’t think you would be like this if you didn’t believe he loved you back” He admitted, prompting you to nod softly “You would just know that you couldn’t give in to your feelings and be firm about it… I was on the other side once, I should know it” He laughed, making you cringe for a second “If you love him and you really think he loves you back… I mean… Someone who comes to his enemy to ask for help for a friend couldn’t be that bad, hm?” He offered you, and this time you looked at him again, catching the disgust in his features.

    “Who would think that you would come to like him one day” You joked, chuckling as he scrunched his nose and retreated his hands from you, shaking his head eagerly to dismiss the thought.

    “Not a word about it to him!” He said threateningly, narrowing his eyes at you “If he comes even close to knowing that I don’t hate him that much now, I’ll make your life a living hell!” He grumbled, making you laugh wholeheartedly.

    “You know what?” You rested your cheek on your hand, leaning on the table “I think you deserve a hot dog tonight” You offered him, a grateful smile on your face “Really… Thank you for saying that” You sighed “I think… I mean… I knew it was the right choice but…” You cleared your throat “You inspire me to be bolder, Han” You cringed, hiding your face behind your hand “God! I’m so cheesy and emotional nowadays” You grimaced, making a gagging sound as you let your index go into your mouth jokingly.

    So maybe you were freaking out about your emotions… Maybe you were too afraid of being hurt and hurting him… Maybe you were terrified of not being enough for someone you loved so much. Again. Maybe you were terrified of not being able to support him… Maybe you were just too afraid to allow yourself to fully express your feelings for him… But that was why you were in therapy.

    You would learn how to deal with your struggles…

    Eventually, you wouldn’t be so afraid anymore…

    Eventually, you would learn to manage it.

[honey-dewey]

Rodeo Romeo and Agent Juliet

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Kingsman Reader

Word Count: 2,118

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Jack was never a fan of classic literature, but when Agent Juliet comes in from Kingsman for the annual Statesman Holiday Gala and immediately calls him the ‘Rodeo Romeo,’ he may be a little bit, okay a lot, in love with the totally off limits woman. What he doesn’t know is that darling Agent Juliet is just as deep in it for her beautiful Rodeo Romeo. Expect many references to Shakespeare, and I promise no one dies at the end.

Author’s Notes: Based off a wonderful post by @pedrocentric that cursed me into writing 2,000 words in a day. I love you for the stab of inspiration I was given. 

The Statesman annual holiday gala was, in Jack’s words, a fancy pain in the ass. It was an excuse to get dressed up and horribly drunk, and while he knew his night would end in some beautiful woman’s bed, he didn’t want to go through the actual gala to get there. 

“This is bullshit,” he decided firmly, adjusting his hat and mask. Every year, the gala had a theme, usually pretty vague so people could get creative. This year, the theme was masquerade. Jack, at Ginger’s request, was wearing his usual tuxedo that he wore to every gala, his hat, and a gorgeous black mask with intricate silver details. It was a pain in the ass, but he had to admit, the mask made him look really good. 

“I know,” Ginger reassured, tying her own delicate golden mask. “But as two of the more involved agents, we have to attend.” 

Jack sighed. “Anyone new attending this year, or will it be a familiar crowd?” 

Ginger reached over his chest and readjusted his bow tie. “Kingsman is coming. Eggsy, Harry, and I think they’re bringing a new agent. Agent Juliet? They’re rebranding to have classic literature names instead of Arthurian legend names. Something about inclusivity, I think.” 

“Yeah well,” Jack mumbled. “I was never a fan of classic literature.” 

They left the room together, ready for the music and the lights of the party. It was a bit more toned down from last year, with quieter music and gentle lights. Plenty of Statesman agents filtered around, along with some of their business partners. Jack did what he always did at these parties. Started his night off with a glass of whiskey and went right into flirting with some pretty thing in a tight rose colored dress. 

“Heads up,” Ginger said behind him, sliding up to the bar as Jack’s rosey target walked away. “Kingsman’s here.” 

Jack turned, seeing the familiar two Kingsman agents he’d tried to kill. In his defense, he hadn’t been right in the head, and they’d both forgiven him. Apparently holding grudges wasn’t the Kingsman way. 

“Whiskey,” Eggsy greeted as he walked up to the bar. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Jack said smoothly. “Who’s the lady?” 

Standing by Eggsy’s side, chatting happily with another woman, was the prettiest lady Jack had ever seen. Delicate features barely hidden behind a midnight blue and silver mask, Jack traced down perfectly shaped lips lined in dusty pink and a beautiful silver necklace that laid across her collarbones perfectly. Her dress was a soft looking midnight blue, all flowing fabrics and cinching at her natural waist with a silver belt. The heart shaped neckline and semi-sheer sleeves lay across her skin in a way that made her look, in a single word, like a goddess. 

“This is Agent Juliet,” Eggsy introduced, nudging Juliet forward. “Jules, this is Agent Whiskey.” 

Juliet scanned Jack from top to bottom, her brows knitting a bit as she thought. 

“Oh!” She finally exclaimed. “Is this the one who couldn’t flirt for shit?” 

Immediately, Jack almost choked on his drink while Eggsy laughed out loud. “Yeah!” He said. “Something like that.” 

Juliet smiled. “From the looks of it, I’d say he’d a regular rodeo Romeo.” 

Just like that, Jack was deeply in love with her. The way the corner of her mouth quirked as she gave him the nickname, the way her hands clasped in front of her, the look she gave him. It was enough to ruin the newly christened Rodeo Romeo. 

“Jules?” An unfamiliar man came up, sliding a hand around Juliet’s waist. “Who’s this?” 

Juliet sighed, a deep and unsatisfied sigh as she shifted the man’s hand off her hip. “Darling, this is Agent Whiskey. Agent, this is my boyfriend, Agent Paris.” 

And with one word, she had broken his heart. Jack drew a breath in, an action that went entirely unnoticed by everyone but Ginger. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s wonderful to meet you Agent Paris. Jack and I are going to see if we can’t find Champ, I’m sure you’ll want to meet him.” 

Jack nodded halfheartedly as she pulled him off. Suddenly, he wasn’t very happy about meeting the new agents. 

———

You sighed, watching Agent Whiskey get dragged away. He seemed so nice, and his brilliant brown eyes were so deep, you could’ve easily gotten lost in them all night. Instead, your boyfriend had to walk up, ruining the moment. 

“Babe,” he said, kissing your neck, much to your disgust. “Want to dance?” 

“No thanks,” you said sourly, hoping he understood your tone as you walked away, heading towards the bathrooms. 

Sliding down the wall, you sighed, adjusting your shoes so they weren’t so tight, and finally abandoning them altogether. 

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice said, knocking on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” 

Unlocking the door and allowing Eggsy to slide in, you smiled, seeing him holding two drinks. Accepting one and immediately swallowing down the soda sweetened liquid, you collapsed back against the wall. “Fuck me Eggsy, I hate him.” 

“So break up with him,” Eggsy said plainly, joining you on the floor. “You’re an adult. Tell him he sucks complete ass and run right into the strong and manly arms of your cowboy Romeo.” 

You punched his arm playfully. “Firstly,” you said. “It’s rodeo Romeo. And secondly, I am not in love with Agent Whiskey.” 

Eggsy raised an eyebrow at you. “Yes. You are.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are to.” 

You burst into laughter. “We sound like children,” you realized. “What was in that drink?” 

“A bit of whiskey, some coke, a few ice cubes,” Eggsy recited. “Now go get your man.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood and smiled. “Maybe I will.” 

You headed off to the balcony, intent on clearing your head. It was barren, the cold weather deterring most from braving the outside. You sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at Statesman’s garden. It was beautifully kept, with fields of trees you assumed grew fruit in the warmer months. 

A rustling broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you saw Jack wandering the gardens, his mask still on. He looked up, seeing you and smiling. “Ain’t this like, a big part of your story?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You said, leaning over so you could see Jack better. “She’s wondering why he has his name, because that is the only thing preventing their relationship.” 

“Yeah I was never into Shakespeare.” 

You gasped. “Really? Romeo and Juliet is an undeniable classic! Hold on, I’m coming down, and when I do, you are in for one hell of a literature lesson.” 

Hurrying down the stairs and into the gardens, you met Jack under the balcony. “I cannot believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet,” you grumbled to yourself. 

“I never said that,” Jack said. “I’ve read it.” 

You smiled, following his aimlessly wandering feet. “It was Shakespear’s greatest comedy, a work of absolute genius.” 

“Back up,” Jack interrupted. “Comedy?” 

“Yeah, comedy,” you said. “Shakespeare was incredibly, well, I don’t want to say he was anti-love, but he wrote Romeo and Juliet to poke fun at couples who said they were soulmates. After all, Romeo and Juliet spanned about three days time from start to finish.” 

You continued to go into detail about the intricacies of Shakespeare, wasting away a good portion of the night. Jack was an excellent listener, occasionally asking a question that sent you on a tangent, but always quiet and respectful while you talked. 

Finally, when the clock tolled twelve, you two headed back to the gala. 

“It was nice getting to know you,” you said softly, not wanting to enter the building again. “Agent Paris is kind of a jerk about me talking to other men.” 

“Oh my god, is there any redeeming thing about him?” Jack asked. 

“Not that I can tell.” 

Jack took your hands. “So break up with him. Find a man who’ll treat you right.” 

You stared deep into his eyes, into the depth and complexities he kept hidden behind a deceptively simple brown color. “A man like you?” 

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he cupped your cheek and kissed you, molding his face to yours and satisfying that craving that had building in you since Paris. 

“Jules?” 

Jack broke away, sliding out of sight so quickly you had to wonder if you’d only imagined him. Eggsy came up to you, confused and a bit concerned. “Jules? Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Never better.” 

That night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The ghost of Jack’s lips kept waking you, until you were forced to pull a robe on and open your balcony so you could get some fresh air and hopefully clear your head. 

Settling on the stone and leaning your forehead against the railing, you stared out into the Statesman stables. “Romeo, Romeo,” you said, mostly to yourself as a comfort. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.” You had memorized large portions of the story in order to keep yourself calm during Kingsman training, and even now, the familiar passage eased your troubles.

At least, until someone responded. 

“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.” 

You stood, looking out at the stables. Standing there, lit by the light of his phone, was Jack.  

“Are you reading that off your phone?” You asked, a laugh bubbling in your throat. 

“You’re getting the lines wrong!” Jack called back, coming closer so you could hear him properly. 

Laughing, you leaned against the railing and stared at Jack. “You kissed me earlier.” 

“You’re still getting the lines wrong.” 

“Jack!” You said happily, unable to not laugh. “I’m serious!” 

Jack’s grin was obvious even from your distance. “I did kiss you earlier. Are you mad about it?” 

“No.” 

“So shall we make love like your namesake?” He asked. “Run away and get married after having known each other, what, a few hours?” 

You shook your head. “No. Because then we’d both have to die.” 

Stepping closer, Jack shrugged. “Yeah, that would throw a wrench in my plans to woo and marry you.” 

You yawned, and Jack smiled. “Does the lady need her beauty sleep?” 

You gave him a very ladylike middle finger. “Goodnight Romeo.” 

“Goodnight my fair Juliet.” 

The next morning, you went out for a walk with Eggsy and Paris, walking by the stables and admiring the horses. 

“Juliet!” 

You turned, seeing Jack atop a beautiful black horse. He rode with ease, as if he’d been doing it all his life. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he said. “Y’all sticking around?” 

Eggsy shrugged. “Jules wanted to stay for a bit. Airplanes make her wonky, so we’re leaving later tonight.” 

Jack’s face visibly fell. “Aw damn. I liked having a beauty like you walkin’ around.”!

“Leave off,” Paris said, wrapping you in his arms. “She’s taken.”

“Might wanna reconsider that one,” Jack said with a wink. “What’d’ya say Juliet? Wanna take a ride with your Rodeo Romeo? Saddle’s got room for two.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. Squirming out of Paris’s grip, you eagerly jumped the fence and joined Jack. “Just as long as we don’t die at the end.” 

Jack helped you up in the saddle, kissing you long and hard. “Well, like I said, I’m not one for the original story anyway.” 

He rode off with you, leaving Paris and Eggsy behind. Holding you tight as he jumped a fence, he continued out, beyond the orchards and the buildings, until you two had reached a small, run down church. 

After helping you off the horse, Jack pulled you inside, where there was light and warmth. 

“You’re really not helping our horribly cliche love story,” you said.

Jack raised an eyebrow, pulling you down onto a couch and wrapping you in his arms. “Am I? It’s been such a long time since I read Romeo and Juliet.” 

You laughed. “Clearly. Although this is very close to the part where they both die.” 

“And we definitely aren’t doing that, right?” 

You nodded. “Definitely not.” 

Jack looked around. “One day,” he said decisively. “I’m going to marry you. Right here, in this church. I promise.” 

Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Sure you will Romeo.” 

Three years later, he asked you to marry him. 

You, as if it were any question at all, said yes. 

After all, how could you say no to your Romeo?

[karlyfr13s]

One Love, One Lifetime

A Phantom of the Opera inspired Captain Swan AU

Rated M, cover art by @hollyethecurious

Chapter Two: Think of Me

Friday dawned clear and bright, and Emma woke earlier than usual. While she was normally happy to lay in bed until mid-morning, today marked the beginning of the season and the opening gala at the opera house, and she was anxious to get limbered up and ready for tonight’s performance. The day would require all-hands on deck, and Emma loved it when the whole venue was buzzing with excited and busy cast and crew members. Today was particularly special for Emma as she was given her first starring role. Regina hadn’t shown her face since the incident earlier in the week, though several of her lackies had been spotted skulking around backstage, most likely gathering gossip for her as usual. Emma was sure the managers spent most of their waking hours attempting to call Regina back and garner her favor. Sure, she wasn’t beloved by most of the crew--who she constantly berated and treated like personal servants--and a substantial portion of the cast ran hot and cold in their feelings--probably because she criticized everyone but Sidney and herself--but... Emma lost her train of thought as she stretched with her fellow dancers. Regina was the leading lady, so surely they had no choice but to try and lure her back, right?

Emma wondered aloud to Ruby whether Booth and the others were hellbent on getting Regina back on stage because they didn’t have faith in Emma’s own abilities, guessing that her managers might already fear the worst in tonight’s opening show. Ruby dismissed the thought out of hand as any best friend would do with only hours remaining before showtime. Of course, her managers had no idea how nervous Emma was, but ever since the impromptu audition on Tuesday evening, Emma had nightly conversations with her hidden Angel. He had coached and encouraged her as she practiced, working to perfect her enunciation and ensure she hit each note of the final cadenza in the complex aria with precision and confidence. Though the Angel didn’t always speak to her, Emma never felt alone in the moments she practiced despite the rest of the large venue sitting dark and silent in the small hours of the night.

As she readied herself for costume and makeup, anxiety rushed through her, sending Emma’s pulse racing and her breathing became shallow gasps. She tried to still the fluttering in her stomach, tried to shift into the single-minded focus she usually felt as she warmed up with the rest of the chorus, but doing so alone was far more difficult. Yet as she gazed at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, Emma felt a strange and sudden quiet fall over her. She could do this--she was going to do this. Tonight. She had trained for it, had been practicing numerous complex pieces for years now, had intentionally set herself the repeated challenge of playing secret understudy to Regina. With a nod to her reflection, Emma left her room and made for the theatre and the final rehearsals for blocking.

That evening as she slipped into the sparkling white ball gown, as the costuming crew clipped glittering crystalline stars into her long golden waves, she coached herself under her breath. She said a quick word of gratitude to the spirit of her father and to the Angel whose influence brought her to this moment. As she took her place backstage, Emma straightened her shoulders and Ruby snuck in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “They’ll never know you’re sweating a river under that thing--way too many layers for anyone to notice. Plus, they’ll be so blown away by your voice that nothing else will matter. Go get ‘em, girl!”

With that, Emma Nolan took the stage and had her first moment in the spotlight. It was an out of body experience. Surely it wasn’t little orphan Emma who commanded the entire stage? There was no way some girl from small-town Maine stood at the Paris Opera House-- at Palais Garnier --and bespelled an entire audience with the light, complicated, and wondrously beautiful “Think of Me”. Knowing the box would be vacant, Emma set her sights on box five and put her whole heart into the next four minutes. She could feel the swell of the music accompanying her, letting the warmth of the strings pull her onward, compelling the crowd with the sudden softness as she reached the third verse, and allowing herself to be taken over by the moment as the song crescendoed.

Recall those days

Look back on all those times

Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you

In the back of her mind, she heard a loud call, “Bravo!’” ring from the audience, and in the last verse of her solo, Emma felt as though she were flying. Her voice building higher and higher in the cadenza, each note crisp and clear as it rang across the theatre and back to her so that when the last two notes burst from her like some wild, magical thing they were half drowned out by the standing ovation that spontaneously began right in front of her.

Emma didn’t have time to remove her makeup or change before she was completely swamped by well-wishers. Cast, crew, and several attendees who’d somehow made their way to the hall that led backstage all vied for her attention. She couldn’t catch half of what they were saying, wished desperately to get out of her heavy gown, and found herself repeatedly saying ‘thank you’ more than anything else. It was entirely overwhelming. Thankfully, her managers interrupted, Jefferson swooped in and took a bouquet from her laden arms, offering her a flute of champagne instead. “Hell of a first night, Emma,” he beamed at her and they clinked glasses. “Seems Madame Lucas was right about you -- we’ve had to set half the stagehands to temporary security so we can get people out of the building instead of having them wander in search of you.”

“He’s right,” Locksley chimed in, freeing her other arm from the elaborate bouquet of stargazer lilies, which had been starting to make her nose tickle. “You’re quite the sensation, Miss Nolan!” She thanked him for the kind words and he insisted she call him Robin, introducing the dark-haired woman who’d appeared at his elbow as his wife, Marian. “With that, we must take our leave. Babysitters are ludicrously expensive in this city, and Roland should already be asleep anyway. Enjoy the moment, Miss Nolan, it certainly won’t be the last.”

Gradually, the crowd began to disperse and Emma was given a small amount of breathing room between introductions and congratulations. Her feet were aching and she was about to call it a night, when she saw a familiar face lingering in the crowd. “Graham?” She took a few steps toward the man, his light brown hair falling into his eyes as he grinned at her. She took off at a run, kicking off her heels, and he caught her in his arms. “I knew that was your voice -- I just knew it! What are you doing here? How?”

He spun her in a circle, the vast skirts of her gown swirling around them and clearing a space as several onlookers gawked at the pair. “My parents are patrons of the opera,” he explained briefly, kissing her cheek and blushing pink at the public attention. “When I heard tonight was your debut, I told them I’d represent the Humberts for the opening gala -- Emma, you were incredible out there!” The reunion was abruptly interrupted when Granny caught Emma’s eye where she lingered near the hall to her apartment. Granny gestured to her watch and Emma immediately stepped back from Graham’s embrace.

“It’s so good to see you, but...I have to go for the night, Graham, it’s late.” As she spoke, he took both her hands in his, wrapping her slender fingers in his warm grasp and insisting they go out and celebrate both her triumphant debut and their unexpected reunion. “I can’t, Graham, I’d love to -- it’s been so long since we saw each other -- but curfew is strict here, and I have to go. Goodnight.” She stepped back, gathering up her shoes as she fled the attention. The last thing she saw before making her way to her room was Graham with his brow knit in confusion. The image was quickly swept from her mind when she saw her whole apartment overflowing with bouquets and congratulatory gifts.

She turned to face Granny, her eyes wide. The old woman offered a kind smile, though she didn’t mention Graham or even ask who he was, which seemed odd. Instead, she handed Emma a single, perfect pink rose unlike any she’d seen. The stem was tied with a black satin ribbon and as she passed the delicate bloom to Emma, Granny’s only explanation was “He’s pleased with your performance, Emma. You sang like an angel tonight.” She helped Emma out of the elaborate costume, taking care to brush out her hair as she removed the numerous clips and pins. Emma hummed to herself as the two worked, Granny focusing on the items that needed to be brought back to the costuming department while Emma swiped her way through layer after layer of makeup until she was left fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked from the experience. She slipped behind the wardrobe screen after Granny left, changing into a soft floor-length robe.

Graham was here. It had been years since they last saw one another, and Emma tried to hold the vision of him now -- a man grown, complete with stubble on his cheek -- alongside the boy she’d spent so much of her childhood with. So many days had been spent at the top of her father’s loft, daydreaming and sneaking chocolates with Graham -- he was an excellent storyteller, and seemed to have a knack for knowing when her father was feeling particularly unwell. After they received the news that her father’s illness was incurable, Graham had become a daily presence in the house. He was always helping out -- fixing leaky faucets or repairing the shutters after a bad storm. As she sat and pondered her own reflection, Emma was drawn back to their freshman year of high school and to her first kiss -- their first kiss --she’d always assumed she’d end up with the boy next door.

That had changed with the revelation her father was taking her to Paris. Graham had not taken it well, and had stormed out her door for the last time two weeks before she uprooted her whole life with the move. She had needed him, had relied on him as a constant in her life, but almost immediately she saw him around town with someone else. Emma found out later it was some woman a few years older than Graham, and heard they had followed one another through Europe for a year before starting university in England. While that clearly hadn’t worked out, the old wound still stung. Undoubtedly, he had been through Paris several times, and he knew precisely where she was. So why had he never visited until now? It seemed likely she was only catching his attention now that it was her name on the marquee.

“Darling, who exactly is Graham Humbert to you?” came the voice in the darkness. Though Emma knew it could only be her Angel, she’d also never heard him like this. Usually the voice was low and encouraging, a mentor and gentle guide to her, but now...something was off. His pitch was too high, his pace too rapid and it felt angry somehow. She explained to the darkness around her that Graham was a friend, and had been for years. “Uncanny, isn’t it? He reappears suddenly just as you step into your own destiny,” the voice trailed off, his tone harsh and clipped.

“What do you mean? You don’t think...Graham wouldn’t do that! We’ve been friends since we were kids -- his family’s a patron of the arts, that’s all.” Emma felt oddly torn, needing to defend Graham’s intentions, while also feeling compelled to soothe the hurt her Angel so clearly felt right now.

“Men of low ambition seek greatness only through possessions -- through acquiring what is not theirs to have , darling.” His voice kept shifting, changing its origin as though he was everywhere and nowhere. “You are a marvel,” he crooned, voice softening to a low purr in her ear though he remained out of sight. His tone shifted abruptly, voice nearly a growl. “You were born for more than his small mind can imagine, and I will not see him bask in your glory. This triumph belongs to us -- to you and I alone.”

Emma realized then that she mattered to this unseen Angel, though for the life of her she couldn’t understand why . What’s more, he seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere -- had he been in the crowd after the curtain call? Had she seen him and simply not known? The thought seemed impossible; she’d always been sure she would know him the instant she saw him. “I know that,” she began, not knowing what he wanted from her, but wanting to try. “I never thought I could do anything like I did tonight, and without you, I know I never would have tried. Please,” she faltered then, wondering where to go from here and how best to help him understand how much she valued every lesson and moment they’d spent together. She squared her shoulders, looking at her resolute expression in the mirror. “Please, let me finally see you. Let me know who you really are -- who it is that made tonight possible.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear. Go on then, if you’re sure you can handle it, keep watching your mirror, Emma.” She leaned forward, at first seeing only herself gazing back until the surface swirled with crimson smoke and from the cloud emerged two brilliant blue eyes set in an astoundingly handsome face.

“Oh,” she heard herself gasp softly and she reached toward the image as the smoke cleared. She took in the black hair that tumbled artfully into his eyes, the confident smirk that gave her a brief flash of white teeth. She reached out, startling herself when her fingers found, not the solid glass she’d expected, but the scratch of the stubble that dusted his cheek.

“Come now, darling. I know you’re more curious than that,” he hummed, waiting patiently and leaning against what now appeared as a doorway rather than her mirror. She took her time, sweeping her eyes over his strong, lean frame. He wore all black from the embroidered silk waistcoat to his full-length leather coat and Emma was sure on most men it would look outlandish, but he was definitely not most men. His wolfish grin must have erased something in her brain because she realized belatedly he had a gleaming silver hook where his left hand should be. It appeared deadly sharp, and she wondered what story had led to its existence. She knew she was staring and tried to say something, anything at all.

“How?” she eventually sputtered, not knowing how to form the question she wanted to ask. He was real, and here. The man -- the Angel? Did angels look like this? -- who had watched over her for years now. The man who taught her to take raw talent and shape it into art. He was real. She reached out, laying her hand flat against his chest, her eyes fixed on the place over his heart. Taking a steadying breath, she slowly turned her gaze up to meet his eyes. “You’re real.” She felt stupid the instant it left her mouth, though his low chuckle wasn’t unkind.

“Real indeed, darling. And to your earlier enquiry: magic.” She tittered, faking a laugh at this and thinking she may have found herself at the mercy of a lunatic. He broke out in a warm laugh at her expression. “Not many people greet me in such a way, but you are not most people are you Emma?” She briefly wondered if he read her earlier thoughts, but before she could think much more he offered his arm which she took out of pure curiosity. “Perhaps a demonstration then?” And suddenly the world was shrouded in crimson smoke.

...

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for beta-ing this piece, and @lonelyspectator12 for being an incredible brainstorming partner.

Shout-out to @eastwesthomeisbest for your artwork--it inspires me to persevere past writer's block!

Tagging CSMM Discord and those who've asked:

@kmomof4, @teamhook, @veryverynotgood, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @laschatzi, @donteattheappleshook, @lonelyspectator12, @the-darkdragonfly, @zaharadessert, @winterbaby89, @jrob64, @wefoundloveunderthelight, @ultraluckycatnd, @stahlop, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @superchocovian, @monosalvatore16, @snowbellewells, @batana54

[peterxwade24]

BWYD Shorts

Grandparents' Day

So this was born almost entirely out of my desire to write more about the Kents and their newest grandbaby. So, I decided Caline Bustier treats her students like they're in elementary school and has a "Grandparents' Day" event in which the children invite their grandparents and they just kinda hang out with each other.

Masterlist

Anyways, enjoy~

In the time between them being placed in Paris and the time they went back to Gotham for Spring Break, the Wayne children had been informed of Grandparents’ Day. They were of course familiar with the event, seeing as how they’d had it in Gotham (although none of them had ever brought anyone aside from Alfred) but they were confused since they were in the French equivalent of middle school and the event was exclusive to elementary school.

Marinette, having only ever brought in Alfred in junction with Damian, had decided to let the boys share Alfred this year (although they would also share whoever came for her) sent a series of emails. One of her emails was sent to Ma and Pa Kent while another was sent to Rolland Dupain and a third was sent to Gina Dupain. The three emails were nearly identical in content, although the tones differed, with Ma and Pa’s addressing them with familiar titles and Gina and Rolland’s only calling them Nonna and Nonno in respect. Marinette wasn’t hoping for much, she was only really hoping that she’d get emails back from her paternal grandparents.

---

The day of Grandparents’ Day dawned like any other, bright sun in the sky, too many animals on her floor, and her siblings fighting in the living room. Marinette, wanting to embody her Uncle Clark’s courage, dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans with a red and black flannel shirt under an oversized jean jacket with a pair of brown ankle boots paired with a brown belt with a Superman belt buckle. She accessorized with a delicate and roughly hewn Peridot gem, that shined like a hunk of Kryptonite in the light, linked with a delicately twisted silver chain and a pair of daisy ribbons tied into her hair.

She went to school with Damian and Colin, Damian dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans with a black turtleneck and black shoes while Colin wore a white tee with denim jeans and a pair of blue trainers, and the three almost siblings slunk into the desk just like they always did. They didn’t pay attention to their classmates or their classmates’ grandparents, only anxiously waiting for Alfred to walk into the classroom (so they all had at least one grandparent there).

Alfred did walk into the classroom, dressed in a pair of nice khaki slacks with a warm gray cable knit sweater (one of very few that hadn’t already been stolen by his grandchildren but he knew by the end of his visit his youngest granddaughter would end up stealing it before reallocating it to one of her siblings) and a pair of black shoes. He spotted his grandchildren and efficiently crossed the room to them.

The students, and their grandparents, watched the older man approach the three Waynes. The three gave a cheerful cry of “Grandpa Alfie!” as he approached. The four Waynes stood in the back while Mlle. Bustier stood in the front and smiled.

“Are all of our grand-” Mlle. Bustier was cut off by the classroom door opening again.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Marinette vaulted over the back of her chair and ran to throw her arms around the two. “I wasn’t expecting y’all to show up, I just thought you’d video call.”

“Well sweetpea, there was no way we were leaving you and those two yahoos with only one grandparent between the three of ya.” Ma Kent smiled and squeezed the girl to her chest.

“Of course we came, little calf.” Pa noticed the teacher’s eyes on them and gently led the two girls back to the desk with the two boys.

---

Alfred, Ma, and Pa took the three kids out for ice cream after school, and Alfred noticed that sometime between the time they’d left the school and arrived at the ice cream cart Marinette had shed her jean jacket and was wearing Pa Kent’s purple cable knit sweater over her flannel and he knew. Marinette was getting more comfortable within the family and was branching out to include extended family and non-immediate family members in her stolen clothing rotation.

Taglist: @dast218 @amayakans @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @marinettepotterandplagg @duckies16

Gina and Rolland were invited however they just didn't show up. Rolland had no real reason for not showing up, he lives and works really close to the school and Marinette told him where and when the event was. Gina also had no real reason, she just didn't feel like it (she also was told where and when the event was). But Ma and Pa Kent went, can we get a round of applause/acknowledgment for the two Kents (casually called Grandma and Grandpa by Marinette and Colin) in the comments?

[fictionadventurer]

Thoughts on "the comedy genius of the first 100 episodes of the pbs' Arthur series"?

I really, truly believe that the early seasons of this children’s show can stand among the great sitcoms of American history. It pains me to see the Internet reduce it to stupid memes, because this show deserves to be recognized for its high-quality humor. It might be aimed at elementary-age children, but it’s full of jokes that would be funny enough for any adult sitcom. The jokes range from sharp to satirical to just plain silly, but they’re never anything that’s inappropriate for the children watching, which takes talent.

Some of my favorite categories of jokes include:

The one-liners. This show is intensely quotable, and to this day, my adult siblings and I will come up with quotes fitting to any given situation. D.W. is an excellent source of these, but the show’s humor, ranging from dry to sassy to just plain silly, provides quotations from all the characters that are useful for all sorts of situations.

The background jokes. The early seasons are filled with visual or audio gags that provide extra hilarity if you take notice of it. One of my favorites was the time that Arthur’s parents watched Extreme Knitting on television, showing two old ladies knitting massive scarves beneath a digital clock keeping time like it’s a sporting event. The other major example is “D.W. Gets Lost”, where the store’s overhead announcements are unfailingly hilarious. (”Books without vowels now half-price.” “Carbonated milk. It’s the drink that puts you to sleep, and burps you, too.” “Chocolate-covered cabbage. The dessert that makes you go, “Blech.”)

The parodies. The early-season writers were masters at writing parodies that were funny even if you didn’t know what they were parodying. One of the prime examples is “Buster Hits the Books”. As Buster tries to find a book he likes, he reads things that are parodies of everything from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Dr. Seuss, which capture the spirit of the story while making a segment where the jokes stand on their own. I had no clue what “The Jolly Jollisters” was a parody of (until about a year ago, when to my great delight, I stumbled upon “The Happy Hollisters”), but that didn’t stop the segment from being funny. The parodies here are funny without being mean-spirited; they poke fun without lazily relying on references. They have heart and intelligence like all good parodies should.

The adult jokes. Not the “we secretly put some innuendo in here” type of adult jokes. I’m talking the types of jokes that fit more adult concerns; they don’t take away from the humor for the kids, but add something extra for the grown-ups watching. One of my favorite examples is the family reunion episode, when all the adults are playing charades. The team fails to guess the clues Arthur’s pseudo-intellectual uncle gives, and he says, “It’s Over the Bridges of Medieval Paris.” “We said pick a popular book.” “Well, all my friends have read it.” 

That’s just jokes. What about stories? My favorite episodes to bring up when I say that Arthur can stand up against any sitcom are two Joe Fallon classics:

“D.W. Goes to Washington”: This episode is great gag after great gag. 

We start out with the hilarity of Arthur remembering all the terrible vacations that D.W. has chosen before, such as “Share a Sundae with Santa”, which turned out to be a guy who put a false-front igloo on his house, comes out in a half-torn-off fake beard and a tank top, and says, “Didn’t you bring a sundae? How can you share a sundae with Santa if you don’t bring a sundae to Santa?”

Then we get D.W. snarking at every single attraction in Washington D.C. (”Oh, look, another closed door. We could have stayed at home and locked each other out of the bathroom. It would have looked just like this.”)

And we finish off with gags coming from the Secret Service. (”Her name is D.W.” “That’s it? Initials? You didn’t give the kid a whole name?”).

Yes, it’s an implausible plot, but I maintain that any sitcom would kill to have jokes this sharp.

“The Rat Who Came to Dinner”: Mr. Ratburn is staying with Arthur’s family. (Oh, the horror!). The classic plot of “Oh, no, the teacher has a life outside of school” is full of hilarity.

We have one liners: “Is it true what Arthur says about you hating all children?” (Strong contender for my favorite line in the entire show).

We have silly imagine spots as Arthur considers what it’ll be like to have the teacher there: “Are you doing homework?” “I’m taking a bath!” “I’m sliding a waterproof pad under the door. Write the names of the continents in order of size.”

We have parodies, like when Arthur desperately turns to educational television: “Today, we watch grass grow, in real time.”

We have character moments: “I couldn’t help overhearing, because D.W. handed me this juice can and told me to listen.” (He says while holding out string-and-can phone.)

It doesn’t matter that this plot is based around an elementary student’s concerns. These jokes are just plain funny.

Like any show, there are weak episodes mixed in with the strong ones, but the early seasons have a relatively high level of quality. It gets a little rockier as the seasons go on, but I’ve long considered the 100th episode to be a decent dividing line between the good and bad eras of the show. The 100th episode two-parter (which is excellent) occurs in the middle of Season 7 (aired in 2002).  Some terrible episodes occur early in that season, and a few classics air after that. Once Season 8 hits, though, there’s a painfully obvious drop in quality. The good episodes stop being the norm and start being exceptions. The characters stop being endearing and start being annoying (do not get me started on the wrong done to Muffy). The parodies become lazy and trite, and the jokes are few and far between. However, the terrible decline of the show does not erase the roughly-seven seasons of high-quality children’s comedy that came before it. This was a smart show, a funny show, that also contained some good lessons for children. It really doesn’t get much better than that.

[cosmiclatte28]

#6 A December to Remember (Jaemin x you)

Sixth day of Christmas

A December to Remember (Jaemin x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

It is the sixth day of Christmas, you’re having your holiday already and you are simply enjoying the peaceful winter inside your room. You tune on to Christmas carols, turn the heater on and binge watch your favorite film. It is always the best feeling when you’re snuggled inside your thick warm blanket, with the pillows on their best supporting position and the amount of light coming through the window is not too bright.

“Perfect,” you sigh as you play your movie marathon and put your phone aside. Leaving the online world for a while won’t be a nuisance right? You almost fall asleep but your phone rings and causes you to jolt from your slumber.

The noisy ringtone doesn’t end even after you leave the caller there, lazily you pause your film and reach out to pick up the call.

“(y/n)! You did not forget right that you asked me to pick you up at four to drive you to the mall, right?” your best friend Jeno called and the first sentence he mutters was that.

You shake your head and scramble from your bed to fix your face and change to appropriate clothes. You glance over your phone “No I did not forget. I am preparing myself.” You lie and Jeno just buy your lie, he can clearly hear you running to rush your preparation.

You jump on your bed, “Shit-“you curse slowly when you totally forgot about this.

“Why? You forgot?” Jeno sounds confused on the other side.

“Don’t run. I’ll wait, besides I am not on the way yet.” He sits down on his sofa when he knows you’re not ready yet. What’s the point of waiting inside his car when you’re not ready yet?

“Give me 15 minutes and you can pick me up. Thanks, Jeno,” you hung up as you quickly take a shower, do your hair and apply a thin make up.

How could you forget, tonight is the night you and the Dream squad gather in Chenle’s big mansion to celebrate your late Christmas and just hang out until the year comes to an end. You were going to do the countdown with them and maybe stay over if you’re too tired to go home.

You’re glad you’ve packed your belongings last night and you just need to change into a nice costume tonight. You did not bother putting on a full make up, you just do what’s comfortable for you and right on time when you spray your perfume, your phone rings.

Jeno’s name appears and you gladly pick it up, “I am going down.”

“Hey there!” you greet him heartily when you make it into his car. “Here’s something for you. Merry Christmas and happy new year!” you hand him a bottle of perfume. His eyes twinkle, “Woah are you my santa?” he asks. You chuckle and shake your head, “No. I gave that because you’re my favorite and I want to give you a present. I will be buying the present for the secret santa now.”

“Woah thank you! So shall we go?” his map starts navigating the car and the two of you made it into the mall in half an hour.

“Want me to go with you or do you want me to meet you here later? Maybe you want to keep it anonymous the prize…” the taller man raises his brow.

You’re glad Jeno is a smart one, of course it won’t be fun if he knows what you are buying. So, after you two agreed on a time and a meeting place, you split up.

You use the directory to find the electronic shop you’re looking for and rush there. You know the person receiving this gift will be super happy, this person loves this thing so much and you happened to successfully make yourself skip coffees for weeks to be able to afford this gift.

You smile when the cashier hands you a nicely wrapped present. You did not take the bag and just bring the present in your bag.

You find Jeno waiting for you and you told him you’re ready to head to Chenle’s.

Chenle’s big house is always the best place to party and just gather around. Your friends are present there too and the other Dreamies are bringing along their significant others. You thank Jeno for the ride and waltz to greet your boyfriend with a surprise back hug.

“Nana!” you giggle when you successfully surprise him with a back hug and the blonde man jumps a little.

“(y/n)!! Sorry I cannot pick you up, my mother just came back from Paris.” Nana greets you into a tight hug and even kisses your cheek although there is Renjun and Jisung there.

“I miss you!” you change the topic, you’re already here with him and that is all that matter.

“Don’t challenge me. You did not know how hard it for me was to keep my head straight when you are running around in my head!” he dramatically gasps and you playfully pinch his cheeks, “My drama king. Just being away for a week to attend a Winter course for his dancing and acts like you’re back from the war!”

He giggles, “That is how much I miss you! It feels like hell! The training was tiring, and they did not allow us to use our phone during breaks. I couldn’t call you and at night the Internet sucks.” Jaemin explained. Well, he was in Russia one week ago to join a ballet winter course. He almost turned the offer down because he did not want to be away from you, but you reminded him how hard he worked and how hard was it to get a chance to join the workshop. So, with much bribing he left.

He did enjoy the class; he learned many new skills and Jaemin is more than excited to teach them to his own ballet class. You know Jaemin from your dance studio, you were there to send your niece to her ballet class and that was how you meet Jaemin. He is an angel when he teaches young classes the basic theories, but once he moves to teach the older and advanced class you see how serious he is about teaching ballet.

“Thank you, Jae, for going there and doing it for me too.” You rub his back, well ever since your car crash accident you’re not able to dance anymore and so when Jaemin took his chance to get to know you, you slipped your dream into his shoulder. You dated Jaemin for a good four years already and still going strong.

The dinner soon started and everyone of you are seated around the room, enjoying the barbeque party Chenle called for tonight and after dinner comes the game time.

Whoever has the idea to put on Just Dance on the screen, must be given a reward. Everyone is competitive to win the highest score, and while taking turn to play, you sit beside Jaemin on one of the sofa. Squishing yourself to half sit on the chair and half sit on his lap, He automatically rounds his hand over your waist and holds you in place so you cannot fall or slip away to the floor when you were laughing at how competitive Mark, Jeno, and Haechan are.

“Not cold?” Nana asks after he examines your dress. You’re wearing a dress while he is snuggled warm inside his favorite knitted wear.  You shake your head and he frowns.

You sip on a glass of wine in your hands to warm your body a bit. Mark opened a special wine for the night which is probably also why those three guys are super competitive over a dancing game.

“Wait here, let me take a blanket.” Nana pushes himself to stand from the sofa and you just let your body fall to the sofa. Your eyes are still glued on the screen and suddenly Jaemin has returned to you. He nicely sits himself back, have you on the same position and he drapes the blanket over your lap.

“Thanks,” you smile to him as he is being warm and considerate to you.

“Of course, anything for my love.”

The night goes deeper and it’s finally time to exchange gift. Everyone has placed their presents under the Christmas tree and one by one we will take the gift with our name.

Once everyone has done that, we all take turns in opening it. You’re excited when you get an Alexa home assistant! Wow everyone was jealous of yours up to now.

It was Jaemin’s turn that has you secretly holding your breath. Well it’s you who was assigned to find hm a present.

Jaemin unboxes the small wrapped box and was cheering when he finds a velvet box.

“Woah is that gold?!” Haechan already jumps forward to look closer, Jaemin laughs and feels his heart also nervous. What is this, inside a very nice box. Is it what he is thinking about? Or is this just a joke?

When Jaemin opens the box, he tears up and closes his mouth. He was speechless and Haechan who is dead curious walks to see the gift and he screams “THIS IS THE REAL DEAL!!”

“What did he get?” Mark also looks interested. Everyone is, you also play along to not make it obvious. You’re glad Nana seems to love it already.

“This, a necklace I’ve been wanting since long time ago.” Jaemin brings out the golden necklace with his zodiac and initial engraved. He gladly undo the hook, and with Jeno’s help (who is sitting beside him), Jeno helps Jaemin uses the necklace.

“Wow seriously whoever got me this. Thank you! I really love it and whoah what did I do to deserve this?” Nana wipes his happy tears and he just looks into the pendant with hearts in his eyes.

Everyone unwraps their gifts. It’s an hour to midnight and you all take a seat on the floor circling. Everyone shares stories, sends gratitude speeches and just reminiscing what you all did this year and what you wish to happen next year. You’re enjoying the night as you sit next to Jaemin and just holding hands as you listen to your friends’ talks.

“Let’s go out and see the fire works,” Chenle opens the door to his indoor garden and you guys flood the places. Looking for the best spot to capture some fireworks pictures.

“3…2….1..”

“Happy new year!!!” you hear different kinds of screaming and yelling. Everyone’s giggling and hugging one another, glad that we can start another year with good health and complete like this.

Jaemin pulls you into his embrace, “Happy New Year love,” he whispers and places his lips over yours. It’s a nice kiss to start the year and you smile when he pulls away.

“Happy new year too Nana,” you whisper and snuggle your head into his neck.

He hugs you close and when his friends pass by he just gives them high fives while shouting “happy new year!”

You stay with Jaemin under the bright sky from colourful and loud fireworks. He hugs you from the side and the two of you are looking to the sky.

“Thank you for everything, for being by my side. Trusting me, loving me, caring me! I am so lucky to have you. I love you so much (y/n) and I just want us to continue and take small steps together until we’re ready to tie our bond.” Nana looks seriously into your eyes. You blush and kiss him quick. “I’ll be here, don’t worry. Thank you for also being there for me. I love you too! Let’s hope this year can be a good year for us.”

“Also I want to thank you for the gift.” Nana smiles and your face drop, “You know?”

He giggles, “No one else knows I want this. I only told you and I got it for Christmas. It must be you.”

You laugh at your action, “Well sorry if it’s no longer a mysterious santa. Glad you like it.” You reach out to see the pendant and you really have no regret of saving money for this present.

“I’ll keep it safe and use it with me everywhere I go! This is like a piece of you in me!” he ruffles your hair and when you shudder from the cold wind Nana wraps his arm around your waist and ushers you back to the big house.

“Guess you need to change if you don’t want to get sick. Anyways see you tomorrow!” Jaemin waves his hand after helping you with your bag to the guest room Chenle provided for you.

You blush, “Thank you Jaemin, see you and happy new year! Love you!”

He smiles after closing your door and walking away to the boys room. It’s the best present he ever wanted, but you are the best present for him everytime!

He kisses the pendant and tucks it inside his sweater, if it’s near his heart he can keep you safe and warm right?

 see you tomorrow

Christmas masterlist