#also adrin is so nice i want him as my friend

[readinshadows]

Baby this was perfect as always, thank you for posting it early hehe delicious bedtime story fr

Reader is so in denial omg I love her sm. She's obviously in love (and can feel the bond??👀) but no. Heartburn. The sun is too hot. Sure girl, whatever makes you feel better I guess, except that you don't feel better lol

But at least Azriel realized it!! You did not have to make me tear up with that part tho. Rude. But you're forgiven bc what do you mean he noticed the hair tie and the stance? As someone who's had the same hair tie at my wrist for idk how long, I'd kill for someone (*cough* az *cough*) to notice that was so sweet

Are We Still Friends? — Part Five

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: A chance encounter offers a break from your tangled thoughts about Azriel. Meanwhile, Az reaches a pivotal realization.

Warnings: training, sparring and weapon use, severe overthinking, longing, brief use of recreational drugs (lovely 'mirthroot')

Word Count: 7.1k

Part Four

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Even in the early hours, the heat was suffocating. 

You’d been half-tempted to cancel on Mor, to crawl back under the covers and enjoy the blissful cool of your room. But you knew better. Mor would’ve winnowed straight into your bedroom, dragged you out of bed, and reminded you that you’d made a promise. 

So now, here you were, on the training grounds, sweat already collecting at your brow, watching Azriel and Cassian spar on the far side.

Both of the males were dressed in their usual head-to-toe leathers, though Cassian seemed just as bothered by the weather as you. You’d noticed he’d trained shirtless more often lately, something you attributed to the presence of his mate, but today he was fully covered. It probably had something to do with the steady, focused gaze Az held. Something to be cautious of. Wary. 

Unlike his brother, Azriel’s expression was detached, as if the sun didn’t touch him at all— like he was completely unbothered by the sweltering heat. His wings shifted slightly against the back of his leathers, but that was the extent of his discomfort, if any. 

You’d never visited Illyria in the summer months, never experienced the full brutality of its heat. Perhaps it was there, under that oppressive sun, that Azriel had learned to manage heat in such attire. But, then again, Az was entirely too skilled at masking what he actually felt.

Something about him, now before you, made you want to continue staring—his wings, the way his body moved with the smoothness of a predator, the effortless strength in the curve of his form. Lately, everything about Azriel had been doing that— distracting you. Overwhelming you. Calling to you like a siren song. His voice, his smile, the way he moved.

A laugh from Mor pulled you from your thoughts.

"It’s a shame the healing balm worked so well," Her voice teased from behind you. You turned at the sound, watching as she tossed a sword from one hand to the other with an ease that was almost poetic. "Seeing you turned me into a softie, you know.  All those bruises and that pouty face— I had to go easy because I felt bad for you.”

You snorted, catching the blade she tossed your way. "Oh, so that’s the only reason I beat you last week? Because you were going easy on me?"

Her grin widened. “Yeah. But Runa got too many hits on you. You’re rusty. So maybe I’m not doing you any favors by going easy." She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe Cassian’s been going too easy on you, too."

“Or maybe,” you shot back, stepping into the ring, “I was just going easy on a citizen.”

Mor’s laugh was loud and unapologetic as she followed you. "You’re saying that like you didn’t know exactly who she was when you threw the first punch."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you squared up to her. “Okay, can we maybe stop reminiscing over my recent regrettable actions? Please?”

“Never.” She slid into a stance with ease. “But if you beat me, I’ll stop laughing about it for a week.”

“Only a week?”

“That’s all you’ll get, babe.”

You rolled your eyes, lips still curved in a grin. “Fine. Deal.”

And then, without hesitation, Mor lunged. Your blades collided with a sharp ring, the sound vibrating up your arms. You let the adrenaline of the fight pull you out of your thoughts, focusing on the female in front of you.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that before anything else, Morrigan was a warrior. Graceful, clever, and impossibly skilled. The kind of fighter who didn’t rely on brute strength but on speed, precision, and an uncanny ability to read her opponent. Skills she’d learnt to outmaneuver and beat males that may have been twice her size, twice her age. And if you looked hard enough, past her glittering makeup and the plethora of gold jewelry she adorned, you’d notice the scars scattered across her body, small slices from knives and swords that didn’t have enough time to heal during the first war. 

Mor didn’t hold back, her strikes coming faster, sharper, until your muscles burned from the effort of keeping up.

From across the ring, Cassian’s booming laugh carried over, followed by what sounded like a gruff remark from Azriel. You glanced over almost instinctively, your eyes following the movement of Az’s shadows. They twisted around him, stretching into the shaded spaces between Cassian’s body and the ground, curling around the general’s feet in an attempt to constrict his movements.

Mor’s grin widened as she caught your sword mid-swing. “You’re distracted,” she said.

You twisted to break free, stubbornly meeting her gaze. “Am not.”

You tried to return to the rhythm of the fight, but Mor was right. You were distracted. Every glance in Azriel’s direction made your heart race, your mind spiral. Even from across the yard, you could feel the heat of his presence. It threw you off balance. And before you knew it, Mor disarmed you, sending you crashing to the ground with a grunt.

“Like I said,” she hummed, smirking as she extended a hand to help you up. “Distracted.”

“Maybe a bit.” You winced, rolling your shoulders as you stood straight. “I have too much on my mind. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Mor tilted her head. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, wiping at the sweat on your brow. “That’s the last thing I want to do, actually.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing you before she nodded. “Well, we just got some new weapons last week—I’ve been dying to test them out.”

You raised a brow. “What kind of weapons?”

Mor shrugged. “Not sure. Rhys says they’re lighter. I think you’ll like them.” She grabbed your discarded sword, tossing both it and hers onto the rack with ease. “You’re too cautious for a regular sword anyway. You don’t like getting hit.”

“No one likes getting hit.”

“True,” she said, laughing slightly as she bumped your shoulder. “But you’re smart about it. Always letting them exhaust themselves first.”

“Go get them,” you nodded to her. “I want to try them out.”

Mor grinned. “Good. Then I can start kicking your ass with them, too.”

She turned to leave, and you watched her go, ready to grab some water. But then, just as you were about to turn, you felt it—a presence behind you. You knew it in your bones, from the soft breeze you swore his shadows danced in, that it was Azriel. Still, when you turned and saw him standing there, you felt unprepared, like something in your chest tightened, hot and sharp, like heartburn. You shoved it down, burying it deeper, just like you had been doing all week.

He raised an eyebrow at you.  “You’re really gonna let her beat you like that?”

You ran a hand over your face, trying to settle your racing pulse. “What can I say, it’s been an off couple of weeks.”

It was hard not to notice how close he stood, the way his presence seemed to fill the space, pushing the air around you in a way that made it harder to breathe.

“Yeah,” Azriel glanced at you, and his expression softened just a fraction. “Are you okay? I mean, now?”

You nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just hot. Overwhelmed.”

He studied you, his brow slightly furrowed, but there was something else behind it. Something he wasn’t saying.

“You can’t possibly be comfortable,” you said, gesturing at his leathers. “Aren’t you boiling alive?”

Azriel tilted his head as if considering your question, then replied evenly, “I’m alright.”

“You’re lying,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him. “You have to be.”

That earned you a faint smile, a quick twitch of his lips that you might have missed if you weren’t already watching him too closely.

“You’re welcome to try them on,” he said smoothly. “See how they feel.”

You blinked, a small flutter echoing in your chest at the teasing edge in his voice. You frowned and said to him, “I’m wearing the exact same thing as you.”

“Mine are different.” His smile tugged again. “They’re cooling leathers.”

“Really? That's a thing?”

The look he gave you— a mix of amusement and something else— told you everything you needed to know. You scowled at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re messing with me.”

When your eyes met his again, they were practically glowing in amusement. He shrugged, and his shadows seemed to dance with the motion— still clinging close to him, hiding from the sun, but seemingly content despite it. He gave you a quick, warm smile— as if he were afraid for the rest of the public to see.

“I am,” he replied, leaning closer. “My leathers are, sadly, just as basic as yours.”

The sunlight caught in his hair when he stood like this, painting it with faint golden streaks. Along with your growing frustration at the heat, your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of him. You fanned your face with one hand, trying to ignore the ache building in your chest. You blamed the sun for making it tight. 

You suddenly became aware of your presentation—of the disheveled way you must have looked. Your hair had fallen loose during the sparring with Mor, strands clinging to the sweat at your neck, a messy halo around your face. You reached back, gathering it in both hands, attempting to tighten the hold of your hair tie. As you twisted it around, the elastic snapped, the sharp sting of it flicking against your skin.

“Shit.”

A quiet sigh left you as the broken tie dangled uselessly from your fingers. Of course. As if you didn’t already feel like disaster enough. You pushed your hair back again, fingers combing through the tangled strands, debating whether to leave it down or try to secure it with something else.

You realized, quickly, that perhaps this small inconvenience was a blessing in disguise— a reason to walk away from the conversation, to regain control of your scattered thoughts. You opened your mouth to excuse yourself, to say you needed to go put your hair up, but before you could, Azriel spoke.

“Wait.”

You paused, turning back toward him as he reached into one of the hidden pockets of his leathers. When he pulled out a hair tie, your eyebrows shot up.

“What—”

Azriel’s expression was uncharacteristically sheepish as he handed it over. “You always wear the same one. I noticed the band was wearing out. It was only a matter of time before it broke.”

“You… noticed that?”

His shadows shifted around him, curling between you two, and he subtly gestured toward them with his chin. “They did.”

Your fingers closed around the band as you stared at him. “So you’ve been carrying this around just in case?”

He nodded and you blinked at him, unsure if you should laugh or melt into the floor. “That… is very considerate of you.”

Az glanced at you, quiet for a moment, before he replied. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to snap and pick a fight with someone because you're overstimulated with your hair clinging to your skin. I’m just trying to protect the public.”

You rolled your eyes at that, though the thought of your family endlessly reminding you of your actions over the past few weeks made the corners of your mouth twitch. The infamous calm you’d prided yourself on—gone. You’d be hearing about your fight with a citizen for at least the next century.

“Shut up,” you said, but your heart still stuttered painfully. “But, also, thank you,” you added, focusing on twisting your hair into a knot to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Better?”

Your throat felt tight as you looked up once more, meeting his molten gaze. “Yeah,” you said. “Better.”

Azriel nodded, stepping back to give you space again. But you caught the faint curve of his lips, the small, quiet smile that made your chest ache.

You felt some relief as the wind ruffled your now-updo, but your thoughts circled.

Azriel had proven to be a male of his word. He’d spent the past two weeks showing you, in every way he could, that he was sorry. It wasn’t loud or showy—Azriel never was—but his apology seeped into the small, thoughtful things he did. Helping with reports, lighting your room’s fireplace when it got too cold. Nothing demanding, but everything that proved he was trying.

It almost felt normal again, like you and Azriel had fallen back into your usual rhythm. Your routine. 

Almost.

“Good luck,” Azriel said, nodding toward where Mor was returning with the new weapons. He leaned in slowly, his shadows drifting between your shoulders, curling in the pocket of shadow created by your closeness. “And, if you want… we can go flying afterward. To celebrate you beating Mor.”

The idea of being so close to him, of having him hold you to his chest, feeling his heartbeat against yours as he carried you, made your stomach churn, made you feel nauseous. Nervous. But you nodded anyway, smiled like it was just another plan, like old times. It felt tight. Diplomatic. 

“Okay,” you managed to say.

Azriel smiled, and you heard Mor’s voice asking what you were conspiratorially talking about. You didn’t answer, didn’t bother to pay attention if Azriel answered, either. The new, sleek steel weapons she’d returned with felt different in your hands. Lighter, faster. Mor had been right—these suited you better. But it didn’t matter. You were too lost in your head, too tangled in your thoughts.

Even if Mor had kept her eyes closed, she still would’ve won the next fight. You weren’t focused enough to stand a chance. There was a brief, confused look in her eyes when she realized how easily she’d taken you down once again.  But she didn’t press, not even as you yielded for the day and ran home, slipping into a cool bath with the hope that it would clear your mind of everything that tainted it.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You stacked the last of the reports on the living room table, smoothing your palm over the top page before grabbing a scrap of parchment.

Rhys—went through the latest proposals and highlighted the ones most viable. Let me know if you need anything else.

You stuck the note on the pile and stepped back, scanning the work you’d spent the past few weeks compiling.

Rhysand would be by later to go over them with Azriel—discussions about Hewn City’s reformation efforts, the best way to bridge the centuries-old divide between the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams. You’d done your best to outline a path forward, to present the grievances of its citizens in a way Rhysand could use to negotiate.

Your fingers drummed idly against the edge of the table before you caught sight of your wrist. The small hair tie sat there, snug against your skin. And although it was nothing, just a simple band, it felt as if it were burning. You weren’t sure why you were still wearing it—why it wasn’t in a pocket or left in your room, ready to be summoned when needed. You ran your fingers over it, jaw clenching as frustration rose in you, sudden and sharp.

At what, exactly? You didn’t know.

You did know, however, that it was likely related to Azriel.

You’d been avoiding him since the other day at training. Since he’d given you the small elastic now circling your wrist.

It wasn’t intentional, not really, but you’d been thinking too much. Feeling too much. Uncomfortable in your own skin, hyperaware of yourself and Azriel in ways that made your stomach twist. Like pressing against a tender bruise.

The anger you’d been holding onto—the indignation that had burned hot and bright in the aftermath of your fight—faded much faster than you’d expected. You still wanted to be angry, to hold onto the grudge that felt like armor, but Azriel made it impossible. His kindness had chafed against you, rubbing away at the edges of your resentment till all that was left was an overly aware sense of him. Of his presence, his care. His devotion to something as simple as your forgiveness. 

You’d forgiven him within a week, had taken all of his baked goods with open arms, had expressed appreciation for the times his shadows brought you snacks during your late nights with Rhys and Feyre, going over negotiation plans for the reformation efforts. 

But Azriel was being too nice now. Too thoughtful. Too much. And it was starting to wear you down.

You were noticing him in ways that felt deeper, heavier, and far more dangerous. It was overwhelming, this shift in perspective—like seeing him in a new light that illuminated details you’d never thought to look at before. The slope of his shoulders, the way he always seemed to be aware of you, even when he wasn’t looking at you. You felt blinded, too rushed to adjust to this new, backlit version of Azriel.

It stressed you out— made you want to sit down and create a list, sort through the pros and cons like some sort of strategy meeting. Analyze the feelings bubbling in your chest until you could pin them down and find the most equitable, profitable, and logical path forward. The right direction to take.

Realistically, you should wait it out. Let the feelings settle and fade before they could complicate the beautiful, solid friendship you’d built over centuries. You weren’t even sure what you were feeling. You couldn’t risk something so vital over emotions you didn’t fully understand.

The front door clicked open.

You turned at the sound of footsteps, eyes falling on Azriel’s figure as he stepped inside. His hair was a little mussed, dark strands sticking to his forehead like he’d flown through the midday heat. A faint flush tinted his cheeks, and for a moment, you wondered if the sun was still blazing in the midsky—if the warmth on his face was from exertion or simply the sun pressing down on him.

He took two large strides before his hazel eyes landed on you. His expression shifted, then, brightened, as if he hadn’t expected to find you here. The soft tug at the corners of his mouth, almost a smile but not quite, was enough to send your pulse into a sharp, erratic rhythm.

“Hey,” he said, lightly. “You’re home.”

“That I am.” You smiled and met his eyes. “Hi.”

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped farther into the room, something small and wrapped in plain paper in his hand.

“I’m glad I caught you. I have something for you,” he said, holding it out to you.

You blinked, glancing between him and the package. “What is it?”

“Some tea,” he said, his gaze flickering to yours before darting away. “For sleep.”

“For sleep?” you repeated, taking the package carefully, his shadows greeting you with a gentle circle around your wrists.

Azriel nodded, his hand falling to his side. “I noticed the other day. When you were sparring with Mor. You were leaning more on your left. You do that when you’re tired.”

Your chest tightened, your fingers curling instinctively around the package. “It was that noticeable?”

“Yeah,” he said. “ To me at least. I thought this might help.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, the simple thoughtfulness of it wrapping around you like a weight you weren’t ready to carry. You opened the package carefully, revealing a small tin filled with pouches of tea. You swallowed, staring down at the item in your hands.

“Thank you. This is…” You trailed off, your voice failing you. “This is really sweet, Az.”

“Let me know if it helps,” he said, shifting his weight slightly, his wings twitching behind him. “If you like it, I’ll get more.” He gave a small, almost tentative, smile. “Or maybe I’ll try it myself.”

You nodded, clutching the package tighter. “Okay. Yeah. I will.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you. You turned, intending to step away, to put some distance between you and the sudden awkwardness settling in your chest. But as you moved past him, Azriel stepped closer, just enough that the space between you disappeared. For a moment, you were not quite touching, just close enough that you could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of night-chilled air and cedar.

And then his hand caught yours. When you glanced back at him, his expression had softened, a sense of concern flickering in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, intimate. Like he was sharing a secret despite you both being the only ones in the room. 

Your breath caught. You could see the faint crease in his brow, the way his gaze searched your face like he was trying to find his answer there, in your features. “Yeah,” you said quietly, even though your heart was pounding.

“Are you sure?” he pressed. His thumb brushed over your skin absentmindedly, as it usually did when he soothed you on bad days. Your breath hitched at how intimate it felt now, how aware it made you of his touch. “Are we okay?”

You blinked, frowning at his words. “Yeah, of course. Why would you ask that?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. I just…I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” you replied quickly, but the excuse felt hollow even as you said it. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, but something in his tone made you think he didn’t believe you. After a moment, he added, “Are you still mad at me?”

“No,” you said after a pause, and it was the truth. You weren’t angry at Azriel, not anymore. It had completely faded, morphed into something else entirely.

You felt guilty about how you'd been acting, how you'd resorted to avoiding him in an effort to make yourself feel better. Because, despite you telling him otherwise, you knew Azriel was interpreting your distance as proof that you were still mad. 

Azriel nodded, but his expression didn’t quite relax. His hand tightened slightly around yours. “But you’d tell me, right? If something was wrong?”

“Of course.”

His gaze softened further, his eyes almost pleading. “Because I always want to know,” he said quietly. “If something’s wrong. I want to know.”

You couldn’t breathe. His hand was still on yours, his thumb brushing soft, slow circles over your skin like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. You were going to vomit. You were going to be sick. You had to leave. You had to get out of here before you did something reckless, before you said something you couldn’t take back.

“I know, Az. But, I should… I need to go,” you said, stepping back and gently pulling your hand from his. “I have a lot of errands to run.”

Azriel blinked, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Oh. Okay.”

You clutched the package tighter to your chest, avoiding his gaze as you backed toward the door. “Thanks again for this. Really.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then stopped, nodding instead. “Let me know if it helps.”

You nodded quickly, forcing a tight, polite smile before slipping out of the room.

When you made it upstairs, you grabbed a coat, barely paying attention to which one, and were out of the townhouse before you had the chance to run into Azriel again. You didn’t know where you were going—only that it needed to be away from him.

For a strange, fleeting moment, you found yourself wishing you were angry at him again. Wishing he was being stubborn and unfair instead of sweet and thoughtful. It had been easier then, even when it hurt, because at least you’d known how to deal with it.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Velaris buzzed with midday energy, alive with movement and the sounds of life. The streets teemed with couples strolling hand in hand, children darting between legs, their laughter woven into the hum of conversation. You wove through it all in a haze, your mind spinning like a top. For a brief moment, you scowled at the love surrounding you—wondering if it had always been this prevalent, this visible, this... everywhere.

You hadn’t come up with a plan since leaving the townhouse, still unsure of where you were going—or if you even wanted to go anywhere at all. All you knew was that you needed to keep moving. Moving meant you were occupied. And being occupied meant you could at least try to ignore the noise—both the loud thoughts and the feelings twisting inside you. But no matter how fast you walked, how hard you tried to lose yourself in the busy streets, the fluttering in your chest wouldn't let you forget.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what it meant, even as you fought with everything you had to deny it. But maybe... maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe Selene had gotten into your head and now you were overthinking everything—reading too much into Azriel’s kindness, his care. You’d seen it before, convincing yourself of something that wasn’t true, spiraling until you couldn’t trust your own judgment.

You didn’t see the person you bumped into until it was too late. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, shaking yourself from your thoughts, but when you looked up—

“Oh,” you said, startled. You blinked at the male before you. “Hello.”

The golden light caught his hair—a rich, burnished brown that framed sharp, handsome features. Made them seem almost celestial.

Adrin smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, two small dimples forming at his cheeks. “Y/n. Hello.”

“Adrin,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No harm done,” he said easily. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of concern as he studied your face. “Are you…doing all right? I heard about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, nodding. “It's a long story. But everything is okay.”

Adrin tilted his head, and although the smile was still there— that warm welcoming smile— his brows drew together slightly. “You seem…bothered. Long day?”

You huffed a small laugh, rubbing absentmindedly at your chest. “Something like that.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “I know the feeling. It’s been one of those days for me, too. I was about to try and make it better—clear my head a little.” He hesitated, then added, “You could join me, if you’d like.”

You blinked at him. “Oh, no, I don’t want to interrupt your plans—”

“You wouldn’t be.” He was quick to shake his head. “Really. I’d like the company.”

You hesitated. Thought through the idea. You liked Adrin. And while you wanted to run—hide away, retreat into the quiet of your own mind—you knew it would only make your thoughts spiral faster. But being around your family, or anyone who might see through you immediately, made you itch with unease.

Maybe this was exactly what you needed. The chance to be with someone who wouldn’t pry, someone who seemed genuine in his invitation.

“Sure, yeah. What are you thinking?”

Adrin’s lips twitched into a small grin. “I might have just the thing we both need.”

An hour later, you found yourself at his apartment, stretched out on his balcony overlooking the city. The air was cooler here, quieter, the noise of the streets below softened into a distant hum. The smell of mirthroot curled in the space between you, something so distinctly warm and earthy.

You breathed it in, already feeling lighter, like you were melting into your chair—but in a good way, not like earlier, when the heat had pressed against you relentlessly.

You took a slow pull from the rolled mirthroot stick Adrin had handed you. For the first time that day, your shoulders eased.

“Feeling any better?” he asked.

You exhaled slowly, watching the plume of smoke dissipate into the air. A soft laugh escaped you.  

“Oh yeah. I kind of forgot how much I like mirthroot. This is dangerous.”

Adrin chuckled, and you glanced over at him, watching as his lips curved into a lopsided smile—only one dimple visible now. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You tilted your head, studying him further. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into this,” you said, gesturing to the rolled stick in your hand.

His brows furrowed. “Why's that?”

You shrugged, still smiling, your face warm—not from embarrassment, but from the pleasant haze settling over you. “I don’t know. You’re from the Dawn Court. You’re a healer. You just seem disciplined. Like, above this.”

Adrin let out a full, rich laugh, the sound making your grin widen. “Please. Let’s go through that again. I come from Dawn. I’m a male healer. A pacifist, even.”

You paused, letting his words replay in your mind before it finally clicked.

“So it makes total sense,” you said, correcting yourself.

Adrin nodded sagely, and another small round of laughter followed, easy and unhurried. You realized how much you liked that about him. That his presence wasn’t demanding. That he let things be light. Maybe that was why it was always easy to converse with him whenever you’d stopped by Madjas. 

You inhaled again, letting yourself sink further into the feeling, into the rare quiet of your thoughts. Even now, though, even floating, something tugged at you. Some part of you that refused to be fully untethered. The rational side of your mind begged for a break from the relentless circling of your thoughts, but you shoved the worst of them away, opting instead to focus on the ones that didn’t hurt.

“Hey,” you said suddenly. “Can I ask you a really weird question?”

“Sure.” Adrin straightened slightly, tossing you a quick glance as he brought his mirthroot to his lips.

You hesitated, but the mirth haze had worked through your nerves, made you bolder, more loose lipped. “Do you have a crush on me?”

He choked on his next inhale, coughing before looking at you, eyes wide. “Sorry?”

“Nevermind. That was weird. Sorry,” you said quickly, looking away, waving it off. “Forget I said anything.”

But he shook his head, smiling faintly as he leaned in slightly. “No, it’s okay. I’ve always appreciated how forward you are. Honest. It’s refreshing.”

You blinked at him. “Really?”

He nodded. Then he paused for a moment, contemplating.  “If you’re asking if I find you attractive, the answer is yes. I think you’re beautiful.”

Something in your chest tightened.

“But,” he continued, “I wouldn’t say I have a crush on you. That feels… shallow. I don’t know you enough to call it that. It would be liking the idea of you. I don’t like doing that.”

His honesty was just as refreshing as he claimed yours to be. It loosened something in your chest—some small guilt that had settled when Mor first suggested you go out with him. Guilt at the idea that someone you’d grown to enjoy might want something from you that you couldn’t give.

If only everyone was this articulate. If only Az—

You shoved the thought away and exhaled slowly. “That’s… a really nice answer.”

Adrin smiled again, but this time, it was smaller, softer. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It doesn’t.”

“Good,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I have no expectations here. I enjoy the friendship we’ve built—if you’d call it that.”

“Of course I would,” you said softly. A small chuckle escaped your lips as you raised your rolled mirthroot and nodded toward the one between his fingers. “And if I didn’t consider you a friend before, you’re definitely one now.”

Adrin’s laugh rang out, warm and melodic, filling the space between you. It was soothing, like the sound itself carried the calm of his healing touch.

You settled into a comfortable silence, the easy rhythm of conversation lingering between you as you both watched the city below. But then, without warning, your mind wandered once more.

This time, it drifted toward the upcoming event Rhys was hosting—a formal gathering to show appreciation for allies and those who’d supported him. At his own home, too. A gesture of humility. You could already picture the glittering decorations in the River House, the couples dressed to the nines, gliding together in effortless, practiced harmony.

Usually, those scenes didn’t bother you.

You’d never minded attending events alone, enjoying the freedom to slip in and out of conversations as you pleased. But now, the thought of walking into that hall, of watching so many people in love around you… It grated. And you knew exactly why. Azriel’s words, his reasoning for changing while dating Selene—how everyone was falling in love, moving on—echoed in your mind, and you hated how tightly they clung to you.

They’d made you feel like something was wrong with you for not actively seeking out love. For being content with being single. Alone.

You glanced at Adrin.

“Adrin,” you said, clearing your throat. “Are you busy this weekend?”

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“There’s an event—Rhysand is hosting. It’s an appreciation for those who help him. I was wondering if you’d want to come with me. Considering everything you’ve done to help Madja… and us.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering in his expression before he smiled. “Really?”

You nodded, waiting and watching him as he thought through his answer.

“The company of a friend is always nice for events,” he said finally.

Your heart stilled at his use of the word "friend.” It felt reassuring. Safe. A reminder that he truly didn’t hold any expectations, just as he’d said only a few minutes prior.

“Yes,” you replied softly, a small smile curling your lips. “It always is.”

“I’d be honored to go. Thank you for the invite, Y/n. I’ve never been to big events like that.”

You laughed lightly. “If you keep letting me smoke your mirthroot, you can come to every event with me forever.”

He grinned, shaking his head, his hair falling across his forehead in an effortlessly charming way. “Is that what I’ve become now? A drug dealer and a friend in one?”

“Yes,” you teased. “A breath of fresh air, really.”

You both fell into another comfortable pause, settling into the easy rhythm of each other’s presence. You wondered what was going on inside Adrin’s mind. His eyes had grown distant, like he was retreating into his thoughts. He had mentioned having a long day too. You hoped he was feeling better now, just as you were, that perhaps your company had offered him what his had offered you—a reprieve.

Adrin reminded you of someone else in your life. Someone with teal eyes and the same easy, friendly humor. You smiled at the fleeting thought that crossed your mind, something quick and bright, like a shooting star.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel’s meeting with Rhysand had taken longer than expected, forcing both males to venture to the Hewn City itself. By the time he returned home, the city of Velaris was already asleep.

Azriel felt conflicted as he passed by your door, his shadows lingering just long enough to confirm that you were safe and asleep in bed. He was relieved, glad that you were finally getting the rest you needed, but a deep, quiet disappointment gnawed at him.

He was planning to catch you one last time today—to talk, even for a moment. To tell you about the meeting with Rhys and how brilliant your plans were, how he was praising them despite you not being there to bask in the compliments. He knew you loved the feedback, knew you loved hearing how your hard work paid off. It always did.

But Azriel knew, even then, the conversation would feel off.

Things had felt off since the night he apologized—and even his shadows had confirmed it wasn’t just in his mind. That he wasn’t simply overthinking.

You’d said you weren’t mad anymore, that you two were okay. But Azriel still felt, still knew, that something was wrong. 

Things weren’t normal. They weren’t hostile, and Azriel was beyond thankful for that, but it wasn’t comfortable like it used to be. You seemed to be hesitating around him. It gutted him to think that he had made you wary, made you overthink how you acted around him. He’d stripped himself of his own comfort.

Azriel stepped into his room slowly, feeling the weight of the day begin to catch up with him the moment he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the frame as he let the quiet settle around him.

The familiar emptiness of the room greeted him. His dresser was bare, the surface wiped clean once again. Mor had, strangely excitedly, offered to clear it out for him when she first learned about Selene’s betrayal. Despite the anger simmering inside him, Azriel had made her promise not to take any drastic measures—he didn’t want her to engage with Selene at all. Mor had reluctantly agreed.

Azriel took a few more steps into the room, and with each movement, the exhaustion that had been nagging him all day seemed to settle more heavily on his shoulders—his body was sore, his mind buzzing with a thousand half-thoughts.

His shoulders slumped as he sank onto the edge of the bed, his hands moving to rub his face, fingers dragging through the mess of his hair.

Azriel hadn’t placed all the items Selene moved, the minimal decorations he owned, back where they belonged yet. But he opened his bedside table and grabbed the one thing he was thinking about—the strange clay creation of him you’d made.

His mind wandered to the night he cleaned your wounds and apologized.

He’d traced the change back to that moment.

Azriel didn’t know why he felt disappointed, why he had expected something different from that interaction. He’d apologized, finally, as he’d intended to—though too late, he told himself, because you’d gotten hurt. But you had accepted it, had looked at him with that same softness he’d come to admire, and accepted it. You’d cracked a joke. You both laughed. It had felt simple again, natural, like Azriel had finally found his way back to himself. But something in him sank when he’d said that one line—when he said he didn’t know why he’d entertained the idea that you’d ever have feelings for him.

He wasn’t sure why, but it tasted so wrong—sour, like something rotten.

He let himself sink further into his thoughts.

Azriel had never seen himself as lovable. At least, not in the way everyone else was. 

From the moment he was thrown into that dungeon as a boy, he’d believed he deserved every punishment, every scar, every moment of suffering. The people who should have loved him—the people who were supposed to care—had only taught him he was a burden, something broken and unwanted.

When he left that darkness behind, it followed him, reshaping him into something sharp and unrelenting. A weapon. He became what was needed, what a High Lord required, committing acts that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He wore those deeds like armor, each one another layer of the male he thought he had to be.

Love, he assumed, had to be just as hard. How could it not be? He was unworthy of the softness others found so easily. While Rhysand, Cassian, Amren, and Mor managed to find it, to hold onto it despite their own sins, Azriel had only ever known heartbreak.

So he told himself that love—for him—would never be simple. It would require blood, pain, sacrifice, and suffering. He thought love needed to ache in his chest, leaving him hollow and desperate, clawing for scraps of something he couldn’t quite hold. That it had to be fought for with every ounce of strength he had. And maybe even that wouldn’t be enough.

Something had changed, though, regarding how he thought about love. 

His fingers brushed the rough edges of the clay figure in his palm. It was uneven and messy, painted in smudges that bled into each other. The proportions were laughably off—the wings crooked, the body too long—but it fit perfectly in his hand nonetheless.

He held it carefully, turning it over as his chest tightened. You’d made this for him, drunk off your ass and laughing with the others, your hands coated in clay. You’d sculpted a miniature version of him without a second thought.

And though it wasn’t a gift, though you hadn’t even mentioned it after that night, Azriel kept it. Kept it somewhere safe, somewhere he could easily grab it and remind himself that if someone as kind as you could love him, care for him the way you did, then he must not be as awful as his mind often tried to convince him he was.

You’d seen the worst of him—all the jagged edges and dark, unspoken parts. He was the softest with you, a side of himself he never showed anyone else, but somehow also the worst. You’d heard the things he’d done, seen him caked in blood that wasn’t his, and still, you had sculpted him. Still, you thought of him when you were having fun.

Azriel had begun to realize that, in reality, love seemed to be… patient. Gentle.

The love his family had found was hard at times, yes, and needed to be fought for, like everything important. But it was kind. Natural.

And so Azriel thought long and hard, the clay figure resting warm in his hand, his shadows curling and twisting softly around him. They whispered your name, over and over, like a quiet, delicate prayer.

And that was when everything clicked into place.

That deep longing he felt to see you, that comfort he found in your presence, the ability to be open, bare, seen, and unafraid—

That feeling was love.

He was in love with you.

And he suddenly couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: hey yall.... how we feeling?????

so like im invested. and also i kinda love Adrin like yesss gimme a stoner healer man who respects a persons boundaries and doesnt crush on the idea of them before knowing them!!!

and yesss for azriel being in love!!! hes gonna be struggling with this new realization, fighting the Voices in the corner of his room and being jealous over things he doesn’t need to be jealous over. mmmmmm delicious

i do believe….there may only be one (1) part left 🫢

as always— thank you for reading 🫶🏻

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten  @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon  @glam-targaryen 

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @motheroffae @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @yesiamthatwierd @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic  @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls  @louisa-harrier

[vgckwb]

ML: Isolation Chapter 20: Real Emotions

Adrien spent the next three days splitting time between his friends, his extracurriculars, and taking on a few more Noir Notes requests. While a lot of them were simple and easy to just talk through, some of them were challenging. However, they weren’t so challenging for Adrien who was pretty physically adept to handle some strenuous activity.

However, on Wednesday after fencing, Adrien took a look and saw a rather odd request on Noir Notes. “What’s this?”

“Hi there, Mr. Cat Noir. Before you read this message, I must assure you that I am perfectly safe. Now, I would like your assistance. You see, my friend is preventing me from seeing his other friends again, or even from leaving the house. I miss his friends. He says I can’t visit them anymore because ‘they aren’t ready’, but I have evidence that suggests otherwise. Please come to the following latitude and longitude to help: …”

Adrin looked this over. No matter how many times he read it, he was still confused. So he figured the easiest way to solve this would be by doing as the message said. He changed into his disguise and went off, using his phone to get the precise coordinates.

Adrien looked around once he got there, but nothing stood out to him. On a whim, he checked Noir Notes again. He saw a new message. “Ah, you’re here. Perfect. Now, from where you are currently, turn to your left.” Adrien did and continued reading. “Look in the windows. When you see a claw waving at you, go to that house.” Adrin looked. He found the aforementioned claw and headed over.

Adrien knocked on the door. He was completely flabbergasted to see his new friend and classmate Max answer the door. Max was equally surprised. “Cat Noir? What are you doing here?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” Adrien said. Again, he felt like the best course of action was to be direct. “I got this odd message on Noir Notes.” He presented it to Max. “I just wanted to follow up on it, due to the confusing nature.”

Max looked at the message. “Oh, son of a bitch” he said. He sighed. “Fine. Come in, I guess.” He handed the phone back to Adrien, who was still thoroughly confused. They walked to Max’s room. “Markov! Why did you post something to Noir Notes? Now Cat Noir is here.”

Markov, a floating robotic orb, popped out from the woodwork. “Because I WANTED him to show up. I asked him for help, and he’s here!”

“Are you that starved for attention?” Max asked.

“Max, don’t get me wrong, you’re amazing, but…” Markov began.

Max sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said down.

“Uh, so…” Adrien said, interrupting. “You posted on Noir Notes?”

Markov turned to him. “Why yes. I am Markov” he said, waving the claw Adrien saw beforehand. “And this right here is my best friend, Max.” Max waved half-heartedly.

“Well, I guess that explains a few things,” Adrien said. He pulled up a chair and sat backwards in it.

“I just… I kind of wish you would have told me beforehand” Max said, rubbing his head.

“Why?” Markov asked. “You would have said ‘no’. Besides, I made my own account, and hid any trace of you.”

“Except that I live near the coordinates you posted.”

Markov processed a little bit. “Deleted.”

Max grinned but was still a bit upset. “Well, I guess that’s fine.”

“So, let’s just get everything on the table,” Adrien said. “Markov, you are a robot created by Max?”

“Well, technically, I’m an A.I.” Markov said. “I can inhabit any robotic form, so long as my chip is there.”

“I see,” Adrien said. “And you want to meet with Max’s friends again.”

“Correct!” Markov answered.

Adrien pondered for a second. “What happened the first time you met them?”

“Ah, how astute,” Markov said.

“Not really,” Max said. “You did say ‘again’.”

“Well, what had happened was,” Markov began to explain, ignoring Max, “one day there was a virus overtaking the school’s computers. Max offered to help, and I helped Max. With our combined efforts, we put an end to that pesky virus.”

“Wow,” Cat Noir said.

Markov turned grim. “Afterwards, Max introduced me to everyone. It was a nice little celebration. However, Ms. Mandeleiev thought of me as nothing but a toy, and said I needed to be put away.”

That tracks Adrien thought to himself.

“However, someone tried to argue that I wasn’t just a toy,” Markov continued. “They went to the principal’s office, where I was taken, and told the principal that I belonged. However, the principal wouldn’t listen.”

“Why not?” Adrien asked.

“Because” Max explained, exacerbated, “that person was only interested in making fun of me…”

Adrien was concerned. “Allow me to elaborate,” Markov said. “The person who wished to see me come back to class was a girl named Marinette.” Adrien was shocked, but not surprised. “Max tells me that she is a bully. Or at least became one after she grew jealous of another girl named Lila. Because she was the one who wanted to rescue me, Max is now more ashamed of me than ever,”

“I’m not… ashamed…” Max tried to protest.

“Hmmmm” Adrien said, thinking. “I think I have a solution.”

“You do?” Max and Markov said at the same time.

Adrien nodded. “Believe it or not, this is not the first time I’ve heard about this Marinette person. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but she no longer goes to school with you, correct?”

“Correct…” Max said, disheartened.

“Well then there should be no problem, right?” Adrien concluded. Max and Markov were confused. “If you were worried that Marinette would bully you, she's not there anymore. She can’t bully where she isn’t.”

“He does make an excellent point,” Markov pointed out.

Max continued to hold firm. He then let out a sigh of desperation. “Can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it that way,” Adrien retorted.

Max rolled his eyes. He got serious once more. “...As much as Marinette bullied Lila, I don’t think she actually stole Lila’s necklace.”

“Huh” Adrien replied.

“And I think it’s only a matter of time before the school figures it out and reinstates her as a class member” Max said.

“I will say, I disagree with Max’s assessment a little bit,” Markov said.  “I think it seems odd that the person who would so valiantly try to save me would also have such a notorious mean-streak” Markov pondered.

“It’s just…” Max began. “I’m not sure what will happen if and when Marinette comes back and I have Markov. I don’t want her to pick up where she left off.”

“If she was leaving off there to begin with” Markov corrected.

Adrien had to think. He knew Marinette wouldn’t do such a thing, but he could also understand Max’s point of view. Max was unsure after failure last time. However, being unsure was a place Adrien was familiar with.

Adrien smiled. “I’m going to let you in on a secret,” Adrien said. “As Cat Noir, I have access to all kinds of information. That information led me to a possible lead on a missing item. On Friday, I’m going to pull out all the stops to find it. The thing is, I’m unsure if this plan will work, or even if I’ll find it.”

Max was curious. “Huh? But how can you go through with it?”

“Faith,” Adrien said. “I believe in my plan, and that I’ll find it. Come what may, you have to be bold enough to try. Otherwise you’ll end up going nowhere.”

Max had to let that sink in for a bit. Markov was puzzled. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means he wants me to bring you in regardless of Marinette,” Max said. He sighed.

“Do you not want to otherwise?” Adrien asked.

“Of course I want to!” Max yelled. “It’s just… Last time was a mess. I don’t know what will happen and I don’t like that.”

“Max…” Markov said.

Adrien tilted his head slightly. “Did you know what Markov was going to be like when you created him?”

Max looked at him. “Well, no…”

“And do you think that turned out alright?” Adrien continued.

Markov looked at Max, awaiting his response. Max smiled. “Well, in all honesty, he’s better than I could have imagined.” Markov lit up. “I have no regrets in his creation, or his continuing friendship.”

“Max!” Markov squeed.

“I think that’s your answer” Adrien said

Max smiled. “Thanks Cat Noir. I guess my head was clouded by everything else going on. Because of this talk, I remembered working away on Markov; Always worried about what was going to happen, but always saying to myself this is something I need to do.” Max turned to Markov. “Thank you too Markov.”

“Me?” Markov said, surprised.

Max nodded. “If you hadn’t contacted Cat Noir, I would probably still be in my own head about this. You saw that something was bothering me, and did what you could to help.” Max reached out his hand. “That’s what a true friend does.”

Markov was still confused, though shook his hand. “Well, truthfully, I just did it for my own reasons. I don’t think I should get credit here.”

“Well, I guess that’s part of what makes you human,” Adrien said. “While it’s true that acting in one’s own self-interest all the time is cause for concern, people indulge themselves all the time. So long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s fine. And sometimes it could be helpful.”

Markov looked at him. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“What can I say? I’m only human” Adrien responded. I mean, I did don this getup as a way to start a conversation with my fashion idol, and now it’s turned into me helping people.

Max thought about something. “Maybe I can negotiate with the school about bringing you in.”

Markov looked at him. “And what will you do if the school says no?”

Max smiled. “Well, we can always meet outside of school.”

“Max,” Markov said.

“Well, it sounds like my work here is done” Adrien said.

Max nodded. “Thank you Cat Noir.” Adrien began to leave, but was caught slightly off-guard by what Max told Markov next. “Oh right. There’s a new student in my class. I’d love for you to meet him.”

“What’s his name?” Markov asked.

“Adrien. Adrien Agreste” Max answered.

“The fashion model?” Markov responded.

“The same,” Max confirmed.

“Wow” Markov awed.

Max continued. “And he’s actually a really cool guy. I know you’ll love him because everyone loves him.” Adrien blushed and quickly left before he could overhear more of that conversation.

Once he got home, he went to his computer and messaged Marinette. “So, apparently you have another admirer out there.”

“Well of course. A lot of people admire Ladybug.”

“I mean someone admires you as Marinette.”

“Really?” Marinette asked. “What kind of person would admire me at this point?”

“They aren’t a person, but they will tell you they aren’t a toy.”

“...Wait, Markov? Max’s little robot buddy? You met with him?”

“Yup. The little guy posted on Noir Notes, and he, Max, and I had a bit of a heart-to-heart.”

“What happened?”

“Well, Markov wanted to meet with Max’s friends again, but Max was hesitant. He was nervous people would make fun of him.”

“What made him think that?”

“...Well, it’s kind of a mixed bag. See, while Markov thinks of you as valiant for trying to save him from Principal Damocles, Max is worried that you only did that to make fun of him.”

“But I’m not there anymore. Why would that worry him?”

“See, there’s the silver lining. Max believes that you didn’t take Lila’s necklace. His concern comes from the idea that the school will learn that truth and reinstate you.”

“Huh… That is something I guess…”

“Yeah…”

“...”

“Hey, it's OK. We’re going to get through this.”

“...Yeah. You know, it’s crazy. I never used to believe that. I used to believe my place was in the shadows. But you showing up out of nowhere, and doing all this, and telling me things will be alright… It kind of brought back my faith in that…”

“That’s all I could ask for.” Adrien saw another message pop up. “Uh, I’m getting another message. You wanna hang on for a bit?”

“It’s fine. I have a message as well.”

“Great. Thank you.” Adrien switched over to the other message.

It was from Chloe. It was short, but very demanding. “Adrien. My house. After school. Tomorrow.”

“Huh” Adrien said to himself before responding “OK.”

Meanwhile, Marinette got a message from Kagami. “Hey, can I come over tomorrow and pick up my stuff? You do have it, right?”

Marinette giggled to herself. “Of course I have it. Ladybug is a designer of her word. Stop on by tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Kagami answered.

“No problem.” Marinette switched back to talking with Adrien. “That was Kagami. She wanted to come pick her stuff up tomorrow.”

Chloe messaged me. She wanted to meet with me tomorrow as well.”

“I see. Do you think she’s nervous about Friday?”

“Maybe. I know I am. I’m going to have to talk to Lila for a whole evening.”

Mariette chuckled to herself. “Be serious.”

“Yeah… It’s a lot. But I think we can pull it off.”

“...Me too. Good night Adrien.”

“Good night Marinette.”

They both logged off. Adrien laid down on his bed. He did wonder what Chloe wanted to discuss. However, those thoughts drifted away, as him laying down brought him to him and Marinette lying on the grass staring at the sky together. He went back to that every night going to be since then, and it helped him fall asleep.

[vgckwb]

ML: Isolation Chapter 13: No Boundaries

After school ended, Nino looked at his phone and sighed deeply. Adrien noticed this. He put his arm around his friend. “What’s up?” he asked.

Nino looked at him with a smile. He sighed. “It’s complicated,” he told him. “My boss wants me to come in early today for an all-staff meeting.”

Adrien seemed confused. “So, what’s the problem?” he asked.

“Well, I was supposed to watch my little brother until my mom gets back from work” Nino answered. Nino got another alert. “And he’s here now. I’m just going to have to walk him over to the after school care building.”

“I can watch him,” Adrien offered.

“Oh no,” Nino said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you’re still getting used to regular humans. No way am I going to unleash a little monster on you.”

“Why not? I like Fred Savage” Adrien replied.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Nino asked.

“Oh yeah. I guess you wouldn’t get that reference” Adrien said. Nino looked at him confused. “See, there’s this old movie called ‘Little Monsters’ and it stars Fred Savage” he explained. Nino still seemed clueless. “Just one of the many benefits of growing up alone.”

Nino hugged Adrien. “It’s OK dude” He said. He stopped hugging him. “Maybe you can invite me over and we can watch it together.”

“That’s OK,” Adrien said. “It’s...not that great…”

“Even better,” Nino said. “We could totally MST3K it then!”

“Wait, you know about MST3K?” Adrien asked.

“Well, from the revival” Nino said. “But my mom did show me some of the classics afterwards.”

“I see,” Adrien said.

Nino got another alert. “Oh crap, it’s Chris. He’s probably getting impatient. We’ll continue this another time.” Adrien and Nino walked out.

When they got to the front of the school, Chris spotted them immediately. “Where were you?!” he demanded.

“Sorry Chris,” Nino said. “I was just talking to my new bro, Adrien.”

“It’s OK,” said a voice. Adrien turned to see that it was Lila. “I saw him waiting here and figured you were a little busy.”

“Oh, thanks Lila,” Nino said.

“So, where are we going today?!” Chris asked, excitedly.

Nino looked downtrodden. “Sorry Chris. But I got called into work early today. You’re going to have to go to after school care.”

Chris got grumpy. “You ALWAYS do this!” he yelled.

“Sorry” Nino said. “I can’t help it.”

Chris continues to simmer in anger. “Now now” Lila said. “It’s not like he WANTED to do this. He’s just busy is all.” Chris groaned. “He’s doing this to help you all out, right?”

Chris’s anger gave out. “Yeah. You’re right” he relented. “I was just so excited about today.”

Nino smiled. “I’ll make it up to you some other time,” he said. “I promise.”

“Well, if you promise…” Chris said.

“Alright then. Let’s go!” Nino said.

“Right,” Chris said. He turned to Lila. “Oh Uh, thanks for helping me out with my problem.”

Lila smiled. “It’s quite alright.” Adrien didn’t quite like that look on her face.

“Come on Chris,” Nino said. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Coming!” Chris said. He rushed to his brother.

Adrien smiled. “I’ll join you,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Nino said.

“I insist,” Adrin said.

“Well, suit yourself,” Nino said. The three of them started walking together. Nino looked at Chris. “By the way, what did Lila help you with?”

“Oh. I was just wondering how to deal with a bad person” Chris said.

“I see,” Nino said. “Well, if she did that, I gotta thank her the next time I see her.”

Adiren grew lost in thought. Is this person bad? I mean, it IS Lila we’re talking about here. Then again, a broken clock is right twice a day. Besides, Lila does have to keep up the appearance of being nice. So she might do some good things.

The three of them arrived at the care center. “Here we are,” Nino said. “I gotta check Chris in, and then it’s off to work.” Adrien nodded. “Let’s go.” He took Chris in.

Adrien waited outside. He saw someone walk out. Nadja Chamack. It was then that an awful thought occurred. Could that bad person be…? It can’t be, right? He thought it over some more. Chris never specified who this “bad person” was, if anyone specific. Still, Chris is a bit rambunctious, and Lila would do a lot to hurt Marinette. But would she go this far? He looked at the building. I can’t risk it not being an option.

Nino came out. “OK. He’s all set. Let’s go.”

“Actually Nino, something just came up on my end” Adrien said. “You go on ahead. I don’t want to keep you from work.”

Nino seemed confused, but said “Well, OK. I’m going to make it up to you as well.”

Adrien smiled. “I’ll hold you to it.” NIno ran off. Adrien raced off in a different direction soon after.

A little bit later, he was running towards the after school center as Cat Noir. If something were to happen... I hope I’m not too late! He kept running. He made his way to the outside area and saw his worst nightmares coming to fruition. Chris had backed Manon into a corner, and he looked serious. He made a mad dash and hopped the fence. “Woah woah woah!” he said, modulator on. “What’s going on here?”

The two kids stopped in shock and looked at Adrien. “Cat Noir?” Chris said. Manon rushed to hide behind Adrien. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Manon said. “He’s here to protect me!”

“But how?” Chris said. “How would he know to protect you.”

“Because he and I have a special connection!” Manon argued.

Kids do have such an imagination Adrien thought.

Chris hissed. “Well, you’re only protecting a bad person!” he yelled.  He made a motion to crack his knuckles, but they didn’t actually crack.

Adrien panicked. “Settle down Chris.”

Chris stopped and stared at him in awe. “How do you know my name?”

“Well, uh…” Adrien said. I messed up.

“Duh!” Manon said. “It’s GOT to be one of his superpowers. He could probably tell you the name of anyone here.”

Thanks Manon.

“Really…” Chris said sceptically. He looked around and pointed at another young girl. “What’s her name?”

Adrien was nervous. He decided to try and make a joke of it. “...Jean?”

Chris looked at him. “Wow. You really DO have super powers!”

That worked?!

Chris glared back at Manon. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s bad!”

“Woah woah woah woah woah”  Adrien said, trying to calm Chris. “What makes you so sure she’s bad?”

“She’s protecting someone bad!” Chris argued.

I knew it. “Who is she protecting?”

“Our old babysitter,” Chris said.

So. Marinette babysat for Chris too. I guess that makes sense.

“Marinette didn’t do anything wrong!” Manon shouted.

“She bullied someone so much she made her cry for a day!” Chris fired back.

“SHE DID NOT!” Manon scrambled.

“OK OK, calm down,” Adrien said. “Let’s just think here. Now Chris,” Chris looked at him, “whether or not she did do that, is what you’re doing an appropriate response?”

Chris looked at his hand. “Well, she’s a bad guy! And bad guys need to be defeated!”

“From the sounds of it, it’s this babysitter that you say is bad,” Adrien said. “Did Manon bully that person?”

“Well, no…” Chris said. “But she’s supporting her!”

“But she’s not hurting anyone, is she?” Adrien asked.

Chris thought about it. “Well, I just talked with her. The girl that got bullied, I mean. She said that whenever someone praises our old babysitter, she can’t help but feel pain.”

Adrien looked serious. “I know how hard it is to deal with something like that,” he said, “but is this going to help her?”

Chris seemed frustrated. “I thought if I could punish evil, I’d be a hero. Like you.”

“Corning someone and intimidating them doesn’t sound like a hero now, does it?” Adrien asked. Chris finally relented and shook his head. Adrien smiled. “There you go.”

Chris smiled back. “Thank you. For stopping me.” He looked off.

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked.

“I was just thinking” Chris said. “If you had been around earlier, you could have stopped the bully.”

“She’s NOT a bully!” Manon shouted.

“HEY!” said one of the care center employees.

Adrien looked alert. “Well, I better let them finish helping you out. Seeya!” he saluted and ran off.

Once he got home, he contacted Marinette. “Hey. Something happened.”

“What?” Marinette asked.

Adrien sighed. “Lila crossed a line.”

“!! What did she do?”

“She manipulated Nino’s little bother Chris to attack Manon.”

“!!”

“Don’t worry. I stepped in before it got too far.” No response. “I had to leave because one of the supervisors came out. But I think I got through to Chris.” Still nothing. “Are you OK?”

“OK.”

“OK what?”

“I’ve made a decision. If it’s for the purposes of defeating Lila, you can tell people who I am.”

“Really?!” Adrien replied.

“Yes.”

“So, anyone as long as they’re helping me defeat Lila? Even if by chance that person was Chloe?”

“I don’t care. Lila’s mad at me? That’s fine. She wants to destroy my parents? They can defend themselves. But Manon? Manon is completely defenseless. What kind of person would I be if I just let Lila trample all over her life before it can even truly begin? I have a means of dealing with her, so I need to take it before something even worse happens.”

Adrien smiled rebelliously. “I can see why Manon really likes you.”

“So you’re going to tell Chloe?”

“Well, and Kagami. She’s already been helping me out a little.”

“That’s fine. ANYTHING to expose Lila.”

“On your command, my lady. It might take a bit of time, since Chloe can be a tough nut to crack sometimes. Also, I want to see how things play out with Chris.”

“Understandable. Thank you for saving Manon.”

“It’s what a hero does.”

“He he. Goodnight Adrien.”

“Goodnight.”