#We don't appear to be any closer to grasping the history of what that truly is and I think narrowing it down could be fascinating

[vaalthus]

After 6 long years...

Moroz is finally free to reunite with his son.

[yourmidnightlover]

i’ll never be ready

Summary: when you've been taken by the recent unsub, you both come to a shocking realization.

TW: torture, self-hatred (derek, spencer), scars, noah (the sucky date guy), angst, fluff if you squint. let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,486

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saying the case was rough was under kill-which, ironically, was opposite of the unsub's mo. everyone had nearly lost count of how long they had been awake. 36, maybe 38 hours of nonstop work? going over case files and reviewing them for something - anything you might've missed. it all seemed a bit pointless because each time you reread a file you felt your eyes dropping down, threatening to betray you and make you succumb to the sleep.

"y/n," hotch spoke. "you've been up the longest. go back to the hotel with derek and get some rest. be back here in 5 hours," he demanded in a soft tone.

"won't argue with that," you chuckled best you could before morgan grabbed the keys, ushering the two of you to the car.

your hotel room was a few doors down from morgan's. he bid you goodnight before he opened his door, allowing you to continue on to your room. you decided to get a bottle of water - the sleep deprivation probably making you feel more dehydrated than you actually were.

after you paid for the bottle, you took a swig of it and trudged on to your room. only, you didn't make it. it felt as though the sleep you yearned for had finally taken over as it was accompanied by a throbbing migraine in the back of your head.

-

"what's taking them so long?" emily asked, looking at hotch for answers.

l"i'm not sure. i told them to only be gone for fi-" he was cut off by morgan slamming into the police station.

"she's gone," he uttered plainly, worriedly as he avoided any eye contact with the rest of the team.

"what do you mean 'she's gone?'" jj argued, feeling the worry bubble up inside of her as morgan continued talking.

"i knocked on her door to let her know that we had to leave. i-i thought she might've just slept through her alarm. but then she never answered," his eyes finally met someone on the team's. "i kicked through the door and the bed -it-it wasn't even slept in. i'm so sorry," he mumbled to that particular team member.

spencer felt his heart drop in his chest. he wasn't angry, per say. he was furious. he was frustrated and confused and wanted to hit something - someone. but not morgan. he wasn't mad at morgan. it wasn't his fault you were gone. at least that's what he thought until Garcia pulled up the footage from 6 hours ago.

the image of derek going inside his room, allowing you to wander past yours and retrieve the water before walking halfway back to yours, only to be hit over the head, was the only thing he could see. and what he did see... well, what he saw was in red.

"you didn't even walk her to her room?!" spencer accused derek.

"kid, we were all tired. i'm sorry, i really am," he pleaded with the young man.

"don't 'kid' me! 'sorry' won't bring her back! we know what this guy does to people and you didn't even make sure she was safe!" spencer walked closer to derek. "i can't believe you. we all had a discussion about how she was the unsub's type. you knew that and you still let her get taken," he poked his finger in his chest.

"i didn't let her do anything. i didn't want this to happen, reid," morgan tried to calm him down, only for them to be interrupted by jj coming into the room, asking for spencer to come with her before promptly leaving derek by himself. "i-i swear, babygirl, i didn't think th-"

"that's the problem, derek," she cut him off. "you didn't think," she said in a calm, sweet tone. "i love you, i truly do, but even when your guards are down when you're tired... you need to think."

"i know... i know. i don't- i don't know what to do now," he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"now you go be the hero i know you are," garcia smiled before signing off, leaving derek staring at a blank, black screen.

-

"look who's up," the unsub sang as you turned your head whilst lying on the cold, steel table. "before you try anything, there's no point in fighting. you're strapped down with reinforcements and the room is sealed with a steel door that can only be unlocked with my key."

"so what? should i just let you do whatever you want to me?" you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, observing the state of the room.

it wasn't very clean. it was dirty and grungy and the smell was absolutely horrid. you nearly gagged upon looking to the corner of the room, seeing an abundance of takeout and old pizza boxes - clearly old and moldy.

"that'll happen regardless, sweetheart," he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, humming as he did so. "such a beautiful girl, truly," his hand travelled further south, grasping your neck tightly with the one hand before he brought a second one up to join it.

you stared him in his hooded eyes as he strangled you gently. you didn't make a show if it - that's where he got off. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. although you would have to throw him a bone so he wouldn't kill you.

he was a sexual sadist. he got the relief from your pain and struggle. he would keep at it until you gave him what he wanted - your pain.

the profile had revealed that the unsub had a history of hatred for women from his own mother - who was most likely abusive. it was assumed that his father left at an early age and his mother blamed him for his departure.

"damnit!" he slapped your face, relinquishing his grip on your throat to allow you to breathe.

"what? can the big-strong-tough-guy not get off?" you mocked him, another slap hitting your face.

"shut UP!" he shouted at you. "when i get back you better be more cooperative," he spat out before grabbing a duffel bag and leaving.

a sigh of relief left you when the doors shut, hearing the deadbolt latch lock to signal you were stuck. you wriggled your wrists around, noticing they were bound by leather straps, as were your ankles.

-

"alright," hotch began as they gathered in the makeshift conference room, "so he has a 12 hour lead on us with her. we've profiled that the unsub keeps all the women at the same location. it'd be too difficult to move them with all the equipment he uses on them..." he looked towards spencer as he spoke, wanting to make sure he was alright.

"this has to be a power assertion move," emily added.

"you're right," rossi agreed. "taking a fbi agent would make him arrogant."

"so maybe he'll screw up? maybe we could find her?" spencer lit up at the brief sight of hope.

"don't get too excited, we still need him to make that mistake. but, yes, there's hope," hotch agreed.

penelope appeared all too sudden on the laptop screen, looking rather worried before she announced, "i'm gonna send you the video that just appeared on every screen in my bat cave. just... be prepared."

and then you were there.

you were strapped to the table, your shirt cut open to reveal your skin to the screen. the camera seemed to be hovering above the bed, focused on your body and the marks that already adorned it. you had a hand-shaped bruise on your trachea; a bruise on your cheekbone underneath your eye was contrasting your pale skin. the gag in your mouth held it open in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. you looked tired. reasonably so, you never did get that proper rest you wanted.

and spencer would never get to tell you what he wanted if you couldn't make it out of there alive.

he never thought of you as anything but a friend but now that there was the possibility of you not making it back to him, he couldn't help but feel different about you. his heart was aching and he knew it would never stop until he was able to give it to you. now, he knew he wanted to hold you as more than a friend. he wanted to dance with you romantically rather than a silly platonic friendly thing. he wanted to kiss you, and tell you that he'd never leave you alone again. he just wanted you.

"look at how pretty she is lying there on the table," a voice that was off-screen cheered out. "although she's always quite the hottie, isn't that right... spencer? was that the name you told me, agent?" he grasped your chin, forcing your face to contort as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp. "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed before releasing your face.

your eyes welled with tears upon the realization that the team might not make it to you on time. you had tried to put up a fight - you swore you did. but you could only fight so hard for so long. the light left your eyes in the form of tears streaming down your face, leaving them on display for your own team to mourn with you.

"looks like he won't be saving you, after all," he chuckled as shuffling was heard from over the screen. "let's see if they like the show, huh?" he brought a knife from out of his bag before removing the gag from your mouth.

"turn it off! turn it off!" you begged. "they-they don't need to see this, hudson," you revealed his name.

"hudson was the deputy that went home 13 hours ago. he was the one that gave us the files and intel on people in town. i guess he didn't actually go home," reid reminded the team.

"shut up, BITCH!" hudson wiped the knife down your right arm, a light hiss leaving your mouth from the intrusion.

"how about we get something to eat, yea? order some more jonny's pizza?" you emphasized before the knife went back into your skin, this time on the other arm.

"jonny's pizza is in a neighborhood only 10 miles away from here. hudson might own property near there. garcia?" spencer announced once more.

"on it," penelope declared before working her magic. "it says here that hudson's family owns an old restaurant that was shut down three years ago. it was passed on to him once his mother died. i'm sending the address your way."

"morgan, you're with me and emily-"

"i'm going with you," reid interjected.

"are you sure you're in the right-"

"i have to see her. i have to... i have to make sure she's okay," spencer tried to reason. hotch sighed before nodding his head in agreement.

they brought an ipad with them so they could watch as they traveled to the location. your arms were bleeding, but he had avoided the major arteries that would've killed you. your sobs wracked through the device, shattering spencer's heart more than he thought possible.

when they got to the restaurant, there were wooden boards surrounding every entrance. they left the sirens off in hopes to not scare the unsub into killing you.

"fbi!" morgan did his classic entrance, kicking the door in promptly. "hudson williams! fbi!" he led the team to the back of the room where a large, steel door rested.

spencer and hotch went to the sides of morgan, nodding at him to continue before he kicked the door in. the three, followed by more swat members, flooded inside the room quickly. spencer's eyes locked on yours as you lay on the table, looking sideways to see him. he saw the tears flow from your eyes as the unsub swung his knife up into the air, intent on stabbing you once more, this time fatally. spencer could swear he saw you mouth something to him before a shot rang through the air.

he looked to his side to see morgan had fired the shot that killed hudson, his knife falling beside your body as your body began shaking with sobs.

"let me go! let me go ple-please! get these off!" your arms struggled at the restraints before spencer holstered his gun, running to your side to work at the leather bindings.

"i'm here," he undid your wrists before you wrapped them around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder before sobs overtook you. "you're safe now, you're safe," his hand stroked the back of your head as you cried into his skin. "here," he pulled back momentarily before he shrugged off his vest and cardigan, handing you the cardigan to pull over your body.

"thanks," you sniffled as you pulled it tight over your body, covering your exposed state before embracing spencer once more, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

"i'm never letting you go again, y/n," he whispered before placing a kiss to your hairline. "never."

"good," you responded before he took you in his arms, carrying you to the ambulance that made it's way to the restaurant soon after they did.

you were severely dehydrated. the lacerations on your arm caused you to lose a lot of blood. you had a concussion. but you would be okay. you were alive. by some miracle, you were alive. you were alive and he'd never let you out of his sight again.

the entire time you were gone, you couldn't stop thinking about spencer. i mean, yes, your team entered your mind but not as much as spencer. who did you cry out for when he would hurt you? spencer. where would you go to distract you from what was going on? spencer's arms. spencer was the answer to all of your problems. it was spencer.

"spencer?" you asked as your head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as a mild attempt to keep you warm.

"yes?" he turned his head down to face your droopy face.

"i..." you stopped once you realized what you had planned on revealing. "please don't leave?"

"i won't," he gently took your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to see his. "i promise."

you nodded your head contentedly, satisfied with his answer. you couldn't say anything about how you felt now of all times. you needed him, as selfish as that seemed. you needed him to lean on as a crutch right now. telling him how you feel is risky. he could run away and distance himself from you once you open your mouth. so instead, you'd keep it shut.

as the weeks went by, your wounds healed. your heart tried to mend itself as time went on, but the process wasn't as smooth as it was with your external wounds. it was a rollercoaster process. you tried to convince yourself that you didn't love spencer. each night when he would come to your house to check up on you and watch a tv show or movie, you allowed yourself to imagine a life with him. a life where you didn't have to hide your feelings from him.

and spencer thought that telling you right after might've brought on too much stress for you. he thought it would be selfish to tell you such a thing after you nearly died. so, he pushed his feelings down as well.

and then penelope happened.

she had set you up on a date with one of sam's friends from counter-terrorism. you didn't really want to go, but you felt bad enough after skipping all of the girls' nights once you got abducted. so, you had gotten ready.

you wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt, the sleeves to avoid a conversation with a stranger you truly weren't ready for. to be honest, you were dreading whatever would happen tonight. you had mentioned the date to spencer, telling him how you didn't even want to go anywhere; you weren't ready to go out in public by yourself yet. he wasn't excited for you, who would be after you confessed your hesitance on going anywhere.

"i'm heading out now, spence," you walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where spencer was standing, waiting for you to get ready.

"al-alright," he nodded before turning towards you. "you look... you look beautiful, y/n," he sighed, making you blush lightly.

"thank you," you went to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. "for everything," you kissed his cheek before pulling away. "i don't think it'll be that long, i hope it's not that long," you chuckled before continuing, "so i'll see you after?"

"uhm, yea," he agreed. "i'll see you later."

you sighed before grabbing your keys and leaving, driving to the restaurant penny had told you to go to. it had only been two months since your abduction. you hadn't been anywhere without someone with you, most of the time it was spencer. you parked the car, grabbing your purse from the passenger seat and placing it in your lap.

you shouldn't have come. you shouldn't have done anything. you should've stayed with spencer. you should've let him know how you felt. you should've...

you felt tears well in your eyes before you pushed those thoughts down. you took a deep breath to compose yourself before you walked into the restaurant. you were led to the table noah miller would be at by the host.

"hi," noah greeted you.

"hi," you tried your best to muster up a smile as you sat down.

"uhm, penelope mentioned how beautiful you were, but i think it was severe underkill," he chuckled,

"oh, wow, thank you," you smiled. "you look pretty great yourself," you motioned. there was a moment of unsettling silence before you continued, "i haven't been out in a while. so, be patient with me tonight."

"sam mentioned that you went through something... an abduction, i believe?" you nodded your head. "that is beyond cool. do you... do you have any scars?" his eyes widened at the thought.

"ex-excuse me?" you furrowed your brows at the question.

"do you have any scars from the abduction?" he asked once more as if he didn't sense what was wrong with it in the first place.

"you... you're seriously asking to see the scars from when i was almost killed?" you scoffed before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"are those your scars?" he awed as he pointed towards your arms, the sleeves had ridden up on your skin.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you jerked your sleeves down once more before you stood up and grabbed your purse. "i hope you rot in hell you freak."

you ran out to your car before calling spencer, tears already streaming down your face as you locked your car door.

"spencer reid," he answered the phone.

"spence?" you sniffled, wiping your nose.

"y/n? what is it? what happened?" he rose from his spot on his couch, shutting his book worriedly.

"i just... the date it - i need you, spencer," you cried out once more.

"do you need me to pick you up or are you alright to drive to my place?"

"i-i can drive," you replied as you wiped your tears.

"alright," he said. "i'll be waiting. should i stay on the phone with you as you drive? you could put me on speaker?"

"yea-yes, please," you answered before putting the phone on speaker.

you drove there as he read his book to you. his voice calmed you down a bit... only a little bit. not as much as his touch would. so, you sped there as fast you could without getting pulled over.

once you knocked on his door it opened in a matter of milliseconds. spencer's arms went around your waist as yours went around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. your sobs rang through spencer's skin as he rubbed circles into your back, walking the two of you inside his apartment before he closed the door.

"what happened?" spencer asked as you curled into him whilst sitting on the couch.

"the guy wanted to see the scars," you sniffled. "when i got upset he saw them because my sleeves rolled up and well... the rest is history," you chuckled humorlessly.

"he really...?" spencer leaned back to look you in the eyes.

"yea... i know," you rolled you eyes.

"well whoever that guy is sucks. he doesn't deserve you," he twirled your hair in his fingers before continuing. "would you want to talk about it?"

"mm-mm," you shook your head. "not yet. i'm not ready."

and then it was more than abundantly clear. you might not ever be ready to tell him.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

[poppinisperfection]

Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop. 

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had. 

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle. 

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague. 

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out. 

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven. 

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain. 

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer. 

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside. 

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished. 

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway. 

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed. 

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision. 

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen. 

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice. 

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else. 

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream. 

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe. 

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform. 

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment. 

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again. 

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence. 

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently. 

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

[lvnatiq]

Cheers to the mess pt.1 |

Nicky Valentino x Reader

a/n: Hello, my love. So this was based on the idea of Jealous!Nicky Valentino. Let me know if you have any suggestions or questions about anything concerning my writing or Nicholas Valentino because my heart, soul and ass belongs to him truly. By the way, I proofread for the first time so make a wish while you’re at it lmao.

-Italic phrases in quotation marks are indicating readers inner monologue, meanwhile, words in italic are used to emphasize the meaning of the word itself-

warnings: usage of inappropriate language, slight angst.

The night is still young, the speakeasy is filled with the late-night conversations of people with humorous expressions and the delightful sound of the jazz music. You, on the other hand, curiously explored your surroundings as the sweet and sour taste of your booze lingered on the tip of your tongue. You asked Ralph to let you have some time with yourself while you were waiting for Nicky to come. You two spoke on the phone, arranging your rendez-vous, approximately two hours ago. Now, there you were sitting at a casual table in the speakeasy for an hour waiting for your sweetheart. Worried that something might've happened to him.

"Where is he? I hope the meeting didn't take a turn for the worst."

You thought to yourself as you tapped your fingers against the wooden material of the table, letting your anxiety get the best of you. Your eyes focused on the entrance gate of the speakeasy, wishing for him to stroll in at that moment. Today seemed like it wasn't your lucky day as your wishes are not being granted. The feeling of loneliness soon turned to utter boredom. The more bored you got, the more attractive the thought of losing yourself at the bar became.

"If I am about to let my stress romance it's way into giving me a nervous breakdown, at least I should get it a nice drink. It would be rude of me not to."

Your desire for a Manhattan led you to take a couple of steps towards the bar. Settling down on the stool, you slowly took off your gloves. The feeling of warmth left your fingertips, the cold surface of the glass table taking its place. The bartender took his shaker as he made his way towards your spot. You opened your mouth, eager to spill the magical name of your remedy.

"A Manhattan-"

"A Singapore Sling for the lady."

Your words were cut short by the silhouette of a stranger located behind your stool. This moment felt too familiar for your liking, almost like a Deja Vu. You slowly turned your head towards the unknown figure as they casually sat down beside you.

"Very rude of me to not introduce myself."

He said, extending his hand in your direction. The bartender's eyes followed the young man's gesture, holding an unreadable expression. You could feel the unusual tension in the air, nevertheless, you remained unbothered. Looking at his hand and then meeting his gaze, you extended your hand for a handshake. Your attempt went unnoticed as he gently turned your hand placing his lips on top of it.

"Matteo Bianchi."

The moment Matteo said his name, the bartender dropped his shaker, practically spilling whatever was inside of it. Shaken by the sound you averted your gaze to the bartender. His hands were shaking, hurriedly trying to clean up the mess he created. He glanced at you, his eyes had panic written all over them as if he was trying to tell you to be cautious, making you even more curious.

Unaffected by his gesture you slowly pulled your hand back as you directed your gaze back to the drink menu.

"Pleasure to meet you, Matteo."

You said, paying him no attention what so ever. Matteo laughed under his breath as he studied your figure. Your drink came into sight, you were still upset at not having your Manhattan.

"Where are you, Nicholas ?"

"I'm impressed that I managed to choose a drink that suited your aura well, miss...?"

You didn't want to give him your name but the reaction that the bartender gave at his name made you reevaluate your choices. Not wanting to cause trouble to anyone including yourself you took a sip from your drink as you responded.

"(y/n)."

You paused as you turned to him, letting your curiosity do the talking.

"How come this drink suits my aura well, Mr. Bianchi ?"

He smiled as he lifted his drink pointing it at your way.

"You seem like a bittersweet woman. Just like the drink."

You laughed, entertained by his way of using words, you decided to let yourself loose by following his game. Observing his looks for the first time, you realized that he was quite charming. His face reminded you of Paul Newman.

You let your thoughts wander as two women with enchanting appearances passed by greeting Matteo with flirtatious looks, giving you a death stare on the side.

"Alright, you seem pretty involved with bittersweet women."

Matteo laughed throwing his head back.

"Enough about bittersweet women-"

"Oh, so you want me out of here? Because I'll make it happen."

Your attempts at escaping failed as he caught you by your waist. Making you feel inevitably uncomfortable.

"Matteo, please-"

"Hands off."

The voice of the man you craved for the entire day has finally appeared. Nicky's harsh tone made Matteo take a step back. Then Matteo opened his arms wide, followed by his sarcastic tone.

"Man of the hour, Nicholas Valentino to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Nicky placed his hand at the small of your back as he pulled you closer to him. His grip on you was tight, making you feel safer than before.

"I thought that we were supposed to meet next week."

Nicky said his eyes burning through Matteo's skull, filled with enough rage to kill him right on the spot.

"I need to settle it now, I have a meeting with Romano tomorrow. You don't want him to get the deal do you?"

Matteo said unconcernedly. You could hear Nicky curse under his breath. You placed your hand on his giving it a squeeze, trying to reassure him.

"Alright then, let's get this over with."

Nicky let his hand loose as he started to walk to the booth alongside Matteo. Appalled by his behavior, you started to follow their steps. They sat down and you moved to sit beside Nicky. Noticing that you followed them Nicky turned to you lowering himself as he whispered in your ear.

"Toots, would you mind giving us some space while you treat yourself at the bar?"

You looked at him, getting angrier each second passing by. Being kept in the dark wasn't something that you fancied.

"Excuse me? Are we really doing this again Nicky?" You said, your tone exposing your frustration. Your mind brings up memories of your first time in this speakeasy, where Nicky left you stranded because of business. But now you are a part of the Valentino family, so what was the problem.

His expression softens as he takes in a deep breath. You tried your best to understand what made him so uptight.

"You two... are you together?"

Matteo's voice made you snap out of your thoughts as you turned to Nicky, who was definitely not in a good state of mind seeing that he froze.

"Nicholas-"

"We're not together."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. The waves of shock washed over you as you dropped your gaze on your hands. The thought of leaving right now seemed like a good idea but something inside of you was telling you to dig this situation deeper. This wasn't Nicky, you had to find out what was disturbing him so profoundly.

"Still that doesn't explain your overprotective response, Nicholas. Nonetheless, I am glad if Venus is single by any means."

"Let's get this venture over with, shall we Matteo?"

You wouldn't be lying if you said that this was the first time you saw Nicky this aggressive. He looked like he was so close to shot Matteo dead. You didn't say a word throughout their conversation. Patiently waiting for Nicky's breaking point.

The business they fussed about didn't seem skeptical at all. It was the usual, large amounts of illegal cash transactions and exchanging men for personal protection. Still, your questions remained unanswered. So you decided to follow up with plan B.

"If that's all, it's time for us to leave. Buona serata, Matteo."

Nicky said as he stood up. You, on the other hand, remained unruffled as you grasped your glass tightly completely ignoring him.

"So, Mr. Bianchi, you and Nicky seem to have a history. Do you two go way back? Based on something other than business-related, of course."

Upon hearing your voice Nicky slowly sat back. Taking in a deep breath, he averted his eyes to the bar. Trying to avoid Matteo's gaze.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

"No, he did not."

Matteo let out a breathy laugh as he took a cigar out of the silver case placed in front of him. Nicky's hand sneaked up on top of yours under the table, holding it firmly. You intertwined your fingers with his.

"Have you ever heard of The Count of Monte Cristo, (y/n)?"

"Alexandre Dumas, how can I not? One of my favorite novels."

"You become even more interesting by the second, my dear."

Nicky started to pull on his collar to get it loose. His grip on your hand gets even tighter. You can feel the distress radiating over him but you had no choice, he wasn't planning on opening up to you when he should've.

"Our situation is similar to Dantès, Mondego, and Mercédès love triangle. Nicky thinks that I am the Mondego of our scenario."

Finally, it sinks in. Still searching for more clarity you ask,

"You betrayed him, by stealing his lover--"

"Aha! That's the part I am trying to justify for the past five years. I didn't steal her- Minchia! I didn't know that she and Nicky had a thing. I mean she ran after him for quite some time but Nicholas didn't give a shit. How could I know?"

"Matteo cut the bullshit."

Nicky said, eventually joining to your conversation. You most definitely understood the situation at last. At this point it wasn't important whether or not if Matteo was right or wrong, Nicky was insecure at the fact that there might be a possibility of such a thing happening. He couldn't take risks when it comes to you, so he just acted like you meant nothing to him as if that would make Matteo uninterested.

Now that your worries came to an end, your only interest was to get Nicky all riled up.

"I think I heard enough."

Both of them stopped their bickering, turning their appalled gaze towards your direction.

"It looks like we are dragging out our dirty laundries. Well then, let me do my part."

Your devilish smirk took over as your playful aura filled the air.

"So, there is this guy, or more like this utterly, unbelievably handsome fella that makes my heart flutter."

"Oh? Tell me more Venus."

You focused your gaze on Matteo, eyeing him from head to toe. Knowing damn well that Nicky was watching your every move.

"He is compassionate, determined, enthusiastic, fearless, hard-working, kind, loyal, and everything that only a real man can be."

"Gesù Cristo! Who is this man? Are you sure that he isn't just a piece of your beautiful imagination?"

You laughed at Matteo's words. You were savoring every second of this mess, meanwhile, Nicky was chugging his whiskey on rocks.

"I would say that he is a gift from the gods, but unfortunately he is lacking something very important."

"He must've stolen the devil's dime. What does such a man lack that made you back up?"

You looked at the pair of hazel eyes intently watching you. You took a couple of seconds, staring adoringly into his beautiful eyes. You caught yourself getting lost in the honey hue of them. His feelings dripping from his glance, telling a story that only his eyes could tell.

"He is not honest."

You said without separating your eyes from Nicky's. Matteo raised his eyebrows, looking at Nicky and then back at you.

"Do I know this fella?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I like my men bare, in various ways."

Nicky laughed under his breath, placing his hand on top of your thigh.

"Oh my, do you?"

You grasped his tie pulling him to yourself, your lips almost touching his.

"You have no idea-"

Matteo cleared his throat,

"I should get going, you wouldn't want your girl falling for me. I know that my charming nature could cause trouble for a lot of people."

He said as he gave you a wink,

"Get lost Matteo."

Nicky hissed as Matteo approached you taking your hand in his giving it a goodbye kiss.

"Pleasure to meet you, (y/n). I hope that one day you can introduce me to the guy that got you head over heels."

He said jokingly as he turned to leave. Nicky slowly leaned in to kiss you but you stopped him midway.

"I don't kiss random men that have nothing to do with me, Mr. Valentino."

He gave you a smirk that summarized his plans for tonight.

"I might have nothing to do with you, but I certainly have a lot to do to you toots."

You took the last sip from your now empty glass and lifted it in the air.

"Cheers to the mess, my darling."

Vocabulary:

Minchia: in this context used as fuck, as exclamation of surprise.

Gesù Cristo!: Jesus christ!

Buona serata: “have a good evening”

[motherofwoofers]

Chapter 7 I'd Rather be Hibernating

As Marinette closed the hatch above her, and settled into the dark of her room, still chilled from the lack of power to her heater, she pulled the hoodie to her face. Luka's smell enveloped her: cool, spicy, and a hint of salt water. As if the very ocean had claimed him over the years. She sat there, legs bent over to her side, bundled in his jacket, beyond calm and satisfied.

She opened her eyes when her bed shifted, glowing green eyes holding her stare. They slowly blinked at her, but maintained their intense gaze. He made no move to come closer, even less so to speak.

"It seems everyone knows who I am," Marinette grumbled, letting the hoodie fall from her face. She felt oddly bereft once it was no longer caressing her face. There was no response in the dark. Annoyed Marinette climbed down from her bed, maneuvering around her dark room through memory alone until she found the space heater and cranked it up. The warm glow lit the room, and the deep shadowed figure on her bed became illuminated.

Chat Noir's suit had changed over the years. No longer the bell-ed and adorable bachelor of Paris. He was still quick, refined, and full of attitude. But he was sharper now. Less forgiving. A house cat turned panther. His appearance had altered to reflect that. Deep metallic green reflected in well placed stitching, finger tips no longer prickly, but full clawed. He was svelte. Suit clinging and moving in a way that showed he was lethal: deadly. Restrained. He had once shown deeply hidden matte spots in places along his suit.

Before the reveal.

Before the betrayal was known.

But now he no longer reflected anything but himself. His mask had shaped aggressively soon after that, ears in a constant state of irritation. The last 2 years had helped ease those harsh lines. It would take far longer for Chat to find himself again though. Find true peace. Until then, the cat miraculous gave him a way to control that anger. Siphoning off the overflow into power.

Marinette climbed back into her bed, unceremoniously making him move out of her way. She pulled the covers out from under her pillows and unfolded a pink and white spotted blanket to wrap her shoulders in. She refused to speak to him until he broke the silence himself. It took long moments of avoiding his intense stare. She took the opportunity to reflect on the scent of calming still wrapped around her *Menthol? Mint?* she felt it was the latter that made up the cool undercurrent of the scent.

"I was under the impression I was the only one who had figured it out." His voice was low. It had been a voice that had at one point made her breath catch and her cheeks warm. It no longer did. It was a voice that reflected everlasting partnership; trust. But butterflies didn't flutter in her chest. She had the feeling they hadn't fluttered in his for some time as well. Marinette waited for him to continue- he didn't.

"I was unaware anyone had. I thought I was better at hiding my identity than I thought I was. Apparently I underestimated my team. Foolish, I know. I needed to though, Chat. It endangers those who know. I can't add anymore danger to your lives." She couldn't match his gaze as she rambled, picking at a stray thread she would need to clip.

"It was," he sighed, before turning his attention away, settling into a tension-less pose. Weight heavy in his shoulders. A weight he would only reveal to her.

"Dangerous?" She questioned, as he settled his back against her wall.

"Foolish."

"Oh." She was quiet.

"Things have changed. But your protection is still paramount. You should know that by now." Chat didn't mince his words, but was hushed all the same. Silence fell between them again for awhile. The only sound the humm of her heater.

"I just-"

"I know why you did it," he cut her off. "Doesn't mean it was the right choice though. I was hurt for awhile once I'd figured it out. Felt like just another betrayal… but I know it wasn't. It was the kindest thing you could have done. A choice and responsibility that you harbored. So I never said anything. I watched though. I was there for you at every turn. As you were for me," he was quiet again. He looked down at his hand that held the miraculous ring, flexed the fingers. "These powers. A dream come true. An out. But for some of us- it's the weight of the world." He let his hand drop to her duvet.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Marinette pulled her knees to her chest. Curling her arms around them, staring down at the heater.

"I know you are."

The warmth and quiet wrapped them up once more. The silence empty but comforting. A natural balance in the room, like the feeling of true neutral. A room temperature you couldn't feel. They would always be the embodiment of yin and yang- in their part of the world at least. But while it was the ultimate balance, it had also left them balanced with eachother.

At first they hadn't figured it out. *She* hadn't figured out why she was so drawn to Adrien, and Chat to Ladybug. It was a desperate grasp to feel your other half. It had eventually led to their civilian selves having a short fling at some point. But it had ended quickly. She had more on her plate than she thought she could handle at the time- she had handled it though. And Adrien's life had begun to spiral. Things coming to light and coalescing in a way that couldn't be ignored any more. Needed to be faced.

Then it had exploded.

She had realized soon after that, that they had ached for eachother because of who they were and the miraculous they held. The feelings of love, merely a confused feeling of infatuation and need.

But as she had realized it, he had also turned away from everyone else as well. He was wounded deeply. Truly orphaned. The miraculous team had rallied around him, keeping him as grounded as they could to keep him falling into something he couldn't return from. Even more difficult when they had discovered that Nooroo's gem had been snatched right out from under their noses. The police had stormed into the Agreste mansion as the battle was ending. The raging carnage shaking the very city.

It had been a moment. Perhaps even a heart beat that the butterfly had been released from between Miraculous hands. Then it had been gone. As if it had never been in the room at all.

Chat had taken the loss as a failure of his own actions. It had been gasoline to his raging inferno.

The team had searched and scoured. Finding nothing. Not even whispers. Then some sort of strangeness had happened in Spain. Turkey. Ukraine.

Akumas.

A pair of miraculous had been awoken in Moscow, a Guardian chosen. Then the akumas had dissapeared again.

Until six months ago.

When Monarch had found Paris.

The butterfly wielder wasn't set on stealing other miraculouses. They had waited to see if she had true plans. Battled the akumatized victims at every turn. Watching them become more and more dangerous.

Monarch just wanted to sew chaos. She used all emotions. Anything strong enough to catch her attention- she snatched.

A father brimming with joy at the birth of his first child. She had seized that. Twisted it.

The akuma had built a tower. A tower in which he had held his wife and child, far from everyone. Brambles and vines with thorns thick as arms had climbed the bricks. Preventing any from coming closer. Then he had begun to collect all the infants from Paris, gathering them in his tower. He had been *protecting* them. Even from their own parents.

But Monarch struck at random. She would akumatize multiple victims in a week, and then disappear for awhile. Becoming impossible to track. Without a true goal, they had nothing to go off of. They found political elections or grand scale decisions afflicted, but not all. And none of them in line with each other.

Just chaos.

Her victims intelligent. Guided. Without anger blinding many of them, they were more focused.

Encounters in summer had been one challenge. The cold weather becoming an entirely different battle ground.

But Monarch had slowed her own actions. The butterfly miraculous beginning to affect her as well as the rest of them. The cold difficult to function through.

Marinette found herself close to drifting off as the room warmed. Then Chat shifted once more.

"Did you tell him?" It was quiet. Barely audible. Something in his tone held back.

"No." A deep breathe washed out of his chest and he closed his eyes. "He's known." She mumbled into her knees, the hoodie having snuck back up against her chin.

"Mmm," was all Chat replied with. He slid his fingers along her comforter. They had history together. Nothing would change that. "I trust him." Marinette wasn't aware that she had craved his approval of the situation until he spoke it aloud. "When did he…?"

"Before the.. before," she couldn't find the right words, but he nodded all the same.

"I'm not… *happy* about it," his voice had gone back to his normal tone. No longer raw. She gripped the loose fabric of her fleece pants. "I know how he feels. I've seen it. He hides most of it. Keeps it hidden beneath layers of coy and natural caring. He's smooth, I'll give him that," Chat chuckled. "But I'm not… hmmm. I don't… We're not together. But it's hard for me to see you wearing someone else's clothes." His eyes slid to her, gleaming in the dark. They both knew she still had a few of his things. From the heated nights they'd shared. Though they had kept it a secret from others.

"I want something real Chat," she met his eyes. Held them. "I want to try at least. I want to feel again, in the open this time. We had… we had what we needed at the time. You and I. But I had something with him, too. Something warmer and deeper, than us," something *real* she added to herself. It had been real between her and Adrien, but it hadn't been the real she craved. "Luka…Luka is-"

"What you need now," he finished for her. Marinette could only nod in response. The dim light of the heater filling the space between them again. "I came here to see if you were alright. You weren't performing well in the last fight. Deep winter is settling in early this year. I don't know what went wrong. But I know something did. I could see it all over his face. See the fear he keeps buried deeper than most can see. I see it, though. I know where to look now." He began to shift his body, moving into a crouch. Chat would leave soon.

"I know he escorts you home. Or close enough lately. Filling my position," she watched the muscle in his jaw flutter, before he unclenched. "I needed to be sure. But when I found your bed empty, I stayed. I've only been waiting a few hours." He maneuvered to her roof hatch. "It seems I didn't need to worry, though. Even without his jacket his scent is wrapped around you. I can barely tell where he ends and you begin..." he looked away from her. "I'm not happy to step back. But I know you're safe. And that's what truly matters."

Then he was lifting himself through the open door, preventing most of the newly shifted snow from falling in.

"Thank you, Chat," Marinette whispered to him. Well aware he would hear her.

"Always, M'Lady," and then the door closed softly. She couldn't hear him leap from her balcony or roof. But she hadn't been able to hear him for a long time.

It took awhile after he left, for her mind to settle. To absorb everything from the last day or two. Things had changed. Perhaps they had already changed, and she had yet to notice them. But things had definitely shifted. And even though her heart ached from the words that had been said between her and Chat- they were merely things that had not been voiced yet.

The room had finally warmed to a sweltering level, and sleep tugged at her once more. Marinette settled into her bed, shifting beneath the covers until she was thoroughly bundled. Cradled as if she wasn't alone.

She felt alone though. A feeling she hadn't recognized she felt, until the space beside her had been filled, and was now empty again. His smell was strong beneath the covers with her, breathing him in and out within the cocoon. She craved the feel of him, once more.

The teenager he had once been, had always been strong, resilient. Skilled at making any situation feel natural. He had held and cuddled her even when she had pushed them all away, in her stress. But it had never felt forced to ease into his side, drift off against his shoulder. His gentle touches and brushed fingers as he exchanged things with her. It had always been natural. Normal. Second nature.

He pushed and pulled her in a dance she hadn't realized she was waltzing in. So focused on the fire around her, never realizing his steadying presence. A presence that he maintained into adulthood. There had been moments when he had pulled away from her. She had felt them distinctly. The lack of connection was noticed. But he always drifted back. Whether of his own accord or a string she subconsciously tugged him with. A rhythm that beat between them seamlessly, even when the harmony of Ladybug and Chat Noir drowned things out, by pure force alone- he was there.

A quiet spark protected in a glass deep within her. Hidden behind that fortress she had built to keep everyone out. She had tucked it in there, close to her heart, but out of sight. Never allowing it to bring him harm.

But he *knew* now.

Had always known.

And she wanted to bring that small spark back to life, just to discover it was already a flame. A flickering flame within it's own gilded lantern.

Marinette offered small bits of kindling to the flame. Wanting it to shine, to illuminate the places within her, that were *her*. That were *Marinette* and not Ladybug. Not the Guardian.

But the whole of who and what she was now. All parts of her.

She wanted to cling to that flame and watch it thaw all the places the winters of her life had frozen over.

Chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3 :)