#even before she feels ready to come out she likes to show her identity subtly

[moonmoonthecrabking]

in my personal headcanons, constance starts making sure that every outfit she wears has some pink, purple, and blue once she realises she's bi

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 9: Lover

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Inspo: Lover (First Dance Version): Taylor Swift

A/N: the awaited chapter is here!!! i hope y'all enjoy! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 5k

Summary: As (y/n) and Lew explore Paris, the city itself seems to push them together, and the city of love brings them together atop the Eiffel Tower in a beautiful culmination of the past few years.

(Y/n) woke up with the sun, its gentle rays filtering through her room’s curtains, casting a warm, golden hue on everything it touched. She let out a soft, tired yawn and gracefully extended her limbs, feeling a slight twinge as the mended muscles in her side protested at the movement. The wound, though healed, still sent stabs of discomfort whenever she exerted herself or took a breath too deeply.

A sigh escaped her, and she glanced at the clock by her bedside: 8:34 AM. Then, a wide, contented smile curved her lips as the memories of the incredible night spent with Lew danced in her mind. The magical evening had brought them even closer, and the potential of the day ahead filled her with excitement.

Throwing back the covers, she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, her heart already beating a little faster in anticipation. Clad in her PT shirt and shorts, she tiptoed to the hallway, steps light with excitement. As (y/n) knocked on Lew’s door, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjá vu. The last time she stood there, it was with a different kind of worry; a deep-rooted concern for his well-being. But today, it was all about the anticipation of the day ahead.

Expecting to find Nix either still asleep or in the process of waking up, she was surprised when he opened the door, fully dressed and ready for the day. She raised a brow in suspicion at the unexpected sight. 

“Good morning,” he chirped, his gaze subtly trailing down her body to her bare legs before he seemed to catch himself, letting her in his room. It was almost an identical match to hers, right down to the less-than-appealing bright orange bedspread. She playfully plopped down on the mostly made-up bed. 

“Where are you headed off to? I didn’t even think you’d be up,” she remarked, curiosity lacing her words. 

Leaning against the closed door, he rolled his eyes, a light blush gracing his cheeks “Well, I have a big day planned for us, so we need to get an early start.”

(Y/n) looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you, and what have you done with Lewis Nixon?”

He chuckled, moved closer to her and took her hand, leading her toward the door. “Go get ready and I’ll come get you in an hour.”

“What have you got planned, Lew?” She asked, a sense of anticipation building within her. Opening her door, she leaned against its frame. “Please tell me,” she begged, peeing up into his soft browns. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, (y/n/n),” he grinned mischievously. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

Sighing with a fake pout, she entered her room, giving him a wary look. 

”Go on,” Lew retorted, playfully gesturing for her to shut the door. “I’m not gonna tell you…yet.” 

The twinkle in his eyes promised a day of adventure, and with the click of the door, she began running around getting ready. Excitement bubbled within her, and the thought of spending the whole day with Lew, exploring Paris, made her heart flutter. She quickly changed out of her PT gear and into her khaki service uniform, paired with a jacket. 

In what felt like no time, she was ready and stood before the small mirror, adjusting her clothes with a smile. The longer she inspected her reflection, the more her smile fell. The memories of donning flattering dresses for dances and nights out with friends tugged at her heart. 

A light knock on the door startled her from her thoughts, and she opened it to find Lew waiting outside holding a package, wearing his own khaki service uniform.

“Special delivery,” he grinned. 

As (y/n) spotted the package in Nix’s hands, confusion danced in her eyes. She had no inkling of what could be inside. She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the unexpected gesture, then took the package from him with a warm but puzzled smile.

“Is this…for me?” she asked, turning the package over in her hands.

Lewis nodded, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. “Open it.”

With a hint of skepticism, she moved to the bed and sat down. Her fingers traced the edges of the wrapping, feeling the paper under her touch. She slowly tore it open, revealing the lavish box within. As (y/n) opened the box, her eyes widened in surprise and delight. She gently lifted its contents from the box, a soft fabric flowing through her fingers. 

It was the dress from the shop window.

The colors were beautiful, a blend of blues and greens, like that of the ocean on a clear day. It was absolutely beautiful, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“How did you…?” she started, lost for words.

Leaning against the doorframe, he grinned. “A little bit of magic. I have my ways.”

“Oh, Lew,” she breathed, looking up at his with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “This is…wow.”

“Try it on,” Lew encouraged gently, noting her hesitation.

Her voice was full of pure joy as she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Feeling her excitement, Lew chuckled softly. It was a joy to see her so happy, and the sound of her laughter filled the room, making everything seem a little brighter. She pulled back slightly and planted a grateful kiss on his cheek. It was a soft touch that left a lingering warmth on his skin. He could feel the gentle press of her lips, a touch that seemed to linger for a moment longer.

Nix grinned down at her as she pulled away. “Go on,” he urged, nodding toward the bathroom.

She hurriedly went to change, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. Slipping out of her boxy service uniform, she carefully slid into the dress. As she stood before the mirror, clad in the dress, her breath caught in her throat. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in years, a vision of femininity that had been suppressed for years. The dress draped over her frame gracefully, the fabric gently caressing her skin. Her eyes met her reflection, and for a moment, she was taken aback. It was her, and yet, it felt like she was seeing someone else. The woman in the mirror was strong, resilient, and beautiful. The dress, with its simple yet elegant design, accentuated her features, highlighting the curves and lines of her body.

Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling within her. It had been so long since she felt like a woman; feminine, delicate, and simply herself. The war had taken so much from her, including the chance to embrace her womanhood. But in this moment, in this dress, she felt a glimpse of it once more. She took a deep breath and attempted to zip up the back of the dress. Despite her efforts, she found it surprisingly difficult to do it on her own. The zipper seemed determined to elude her, mocking her efforts. 

(Y/n) emerged from the bathroom, her steps tentative, but her face radiant with a newfound sense of confidence. Her hair was down, and her eyes shone with a captivating blend of excitement and nervousness. She stopped a few feet from him, allowing him to take her in. Nix’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. It was an unspoken compliment that made her feel more beautiful than she had in years.

Lew was momentarily struck by her beauty, a mixture of awe and adoration enveloping him. He had seen her in her uniform every day, but this was different; She looked like a vision, like a magnificent piece of art that hung in the Louvre. He stood up off the doorframe, a beaming smile gracing his face as he took in her appearance. 

“Would you mind…uh…zipping me up?” she asked, a blush tinting her cheeks. It was a simple request, but it held a significance that made her heart flutter. For Lewis, her request set his heart racing. It was an intimate act, and he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

As she turned, her back exposed, he saw how the dress delicately revealed her skin.  She brushed her hair gently to the side. (Y/n)’s skin was bare against the zipper, and Lew could feel his fingers trembling slightly with nervousness. He took a steadying breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

His fingertips brushed against her back as began to pull the zipper up, his touch light and cautious, yet filled with a tenderness he couldn’t contain. The sensation of her bare skin beneath his fingers sent shivers down his spine, igniting a warmth that spread through him. Lew tried to keep his focus on the zipper, on the task at hand, but he couldn’t help being acutely aware of her presence and the intimacy of the moment. 

As Nix finished zipping up her dress, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him. (Y/n) looked stunning, the dress accentuating her features in a way that made his breath catch. He felt a surge of pride that he had chosen something that made her smile and feel beautiful.

When she turned to face him, her cheeks dusted pink with a sheepish smile and he grinned back. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he breathed, his voice laced with awe.

“Thank you, Lew,” she replied. “That means more to me than you know.”

Nix gently brushed a few strands of her (y/h/c) hair back from her face. His fingers were careful and tender, lightly grazing her skin, allowing her to feel their warmth. For a brief second, their eyes locked unspoken emotions passing between them like a silent conversation.

In that moment, it was as if time slowed down. She felt his touch, gentle and reassuring, and something more; a connection that stirred her. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them.

He stepped back, breaking the gentle spell, and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?” 

(Y/n) closed the door behind her with a wide smile. “Absolutely.”

As they made their way to the lobby, she noticed the bustling atmosphere of the hotel. Guests were going about their day, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air. There was a certain charm to it, one that she’d come to associate with the beautiful city. 

Lew held the door for her as they stepped out into the lively Parisian streets. It was a beautiful morning, the city alive despite how desolate the night before had been. The crisp air carried the faint smell of coffee and pastries, mixing with the sounds of distant street musicians and the lively chatter of the bustling city. 

“So what’s first on the agenda?” She asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

He beamed, tucking his arm through hers as they strolled down the street. “Breakfast.”

(Y/n) chucked, feeling pure joy as they wandered through the vibrant streets, looking for the perfect café to start their adventure.

After a hearty breakfast and several cups of coffee to fuel them for the day, (y/n) and Lewis set out for the day’s adventures. Lew guided her through the cobbled streets, past charming little shops, cafés, and artistic displays. The world seemed to be at ease, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance.

As they walked, he shared stories of the city, tales of its history, art, and its resilience under Nazi occupation. She listened intently, captivated by both the tales and the storyteller himself. Every once in a while, he’d move his hand to her waist to direct her through a crowd, and each time, a gentle flutter danced in her chest. 

They found themselves in Montmartre, a place seemingly frozen in time with its cobbled streets and rustic buildings. It was there that they stumbled upon a charming art gallery tucked away on a cobblestone side street. Sharing an intrigued look, they decided to step inside.

Lew’s eyes were drawn to a particular piece that captured his attention: a painting of Paris at night. The artist had beautifully blended dark blues and purples to form the backdrop of the city with twinkling lights like stars on the ground. The Eiffel Tower stood tall, a beacon of bright elegance against the dark canvas.

“Look at his,” he said, gesturing toward the work.

(Y/n) stared at the piece in wonder. “I don’t know how people are so talented.”

“Me neither.” 

As they stood before the painting, they became captivated by the way the artist had recreated the magic of Paris after dark. It was a beautiful representation of the city and echoing its vibrant nightlife. The gallery held many such treasures, each reflecting the essence of the city they had grown to love. After a few hours of perusing the artwork and exploring, Lewis led them to their next stop.

In the heart of Paris, Notre Dame Cathedral stood as a timeless testament to history and faith. (Y/n) and Lew approached the iconic structure, awestruck by its intricate details and towering spires.

They stepped into the cool, dim interior, and were greeted by the hushed whispers of other visitors. Rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the worn wooden pews and mosaic floor.

“This is my mother’s favorite,” Nix spoke, his voice hushed. “She loved to come here and pray.”

(Y/n) watched his eyes slowly rise to the cross at the front of the sanctuary as he continued quietly. “She needs it being married to my father.”

Sliding his arm from hers, she wrapped her hand around his bicep, squeezing softly in a gesture that told him she was there. “We’d sometimes come here just to get away. She never told Blanche and I, but we knew.”

Their footsteps echoed through the ancient halls as they slowly walked down the aisle. (Y/n) could sense the weight of Lew’s memories as he revisited the cathedral. She was honored to be allowed into a part of his life that was incredibly personal, but also heartbroken that he had such memories.

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) said gently, her voice filled with empathy.

He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Visiting here makes me feel close to her. I miss her more than I thought I would. Her and Blanche both.”

They reached the side chapel, its walls adorned with flickering candles and well-worn prayer benches. Lew paused, gazing at a flickering candle as if lost in thought. 

“When I visited alone, sometimes I’d light a candle for her,” he continued, his voice still soft. “I’d pray for her peace, for our family.”

(Y/n) watched the flame, feeling incredible respect for the woman who shaped him into the man he was today; the man she’d fallen in love with. She imagined the strength it must have taken for Lew’s mother to endure and protect her children. 

“Your mother sounds like an incredible woman,” she murmured.

He nodded, a distant look in his eyes. “She is. Back home, she’s the national vice-president of the AWVS.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

Looking down at her, he grinned, a glint of love in his eyes. “So are you,” he whispered as he gently hooked his arm around hers began leading them to the exit. 

(Y/n)’s face warmed as they stepped out into the chilly Parisian air, and Lew took a deep breath, exhaling a sense of relief. “(Y/n), thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For being there.”

She gently squeezed his arm, offering a somforting smile. “Always.”

It was around noon by the time they made their way back to the main street after visiting the beautiful Luxembourg gardens. Amidst the lively street scene, (y/n) noticed a quaint bookshop, its windows decorated with book covers and handwritten signs announcing what she guessed were the latest arrivals.

She gasped softly, her eyes brightening with excitement as she pulled on Nix’s arm. “Lew, look at that bookshop! Can we go in?”

He smiled at her eagerness. “Lead the way, corporal.”

They stepped into the bookshop, and (y/n) felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia. The scent of old and new books mingled, and the soft lighting created a cozy atmosphere. Wooden shelved reached the ceiling, packed with books of varying sizes, colors, and languages. 

“This is what I imagine heaven is like,” (y/n) whispered, her eyes alight with glee.

Her eyes danced with delight as she roamed the aisles, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Lew watched her, admiring the way her face lit up with each new discovery, her enthusiasm infectious. He might not be an avid reader, but seeing her so joyful made his heart swell. As she continued to explore the shelves, Lewis found himself pulled into her enthusiasm. He picked up a few books that seemed interesting to him, mostly based on historical events and memoirs. 

As they browsed through the shelves, they would occasionally pick out a book that caught their eye, sharing it with the other. They read aloud interesting excerpts, laughing or pondering over the words.They spent a good amount of time immersed in the shelves, exchanging stories and good conversation. Sometimes, their fingers brushed against each other, causing a blush to creep onto their faces.

Lew was engrossed in the books before him as (y/n) browsed the neighboring bookshelf. She couldn’t help but steal glances at the man she was completely in love with. His focused expression hinted at the stories and emotions the books invoked within him. Fascinated by the glint in his eye and the subtle smile gracing hi lips, (y/n) drifted closer to him. 

Lew’s deep boice pulled her from her thoughts, his words tinged with excitement. “Hey, (y/n). I think you’ll like this one,” he called, holding up a slightly worn book with a dark red cover. 

Her eyes widened in amazement as she read the title,”Roméo et Juliette.” A gasp of delight escaped her lips. “No way! And it’s in French!” she exclaimed. “I don’t speak French, but I have to have this.”

She watched as Nix smiled, the affection in his gaze not lost on her. “Mon cœur a-t-il aimé jusqu'à présent?” he began, the words rolling off his tongue beautifully. renoncez-y, vue! Car je n'ai jamais vu la vraie beauté jusqu'à cette nuit.”

Entranced by his almost perfect french, she listened intently as his gaze remained on her. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished and appreciated, as if she were the most beautiful story in this quaint bookstore.

“What does it mean?” she asked softly, her voice unsteady under his gaze.

Lew shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “It’s a quote from Romeo and Juliet, but I can’t remember which part.”

(Y/n) raised a speculative eyebrow as amusement danced in her eyes. “If you say so,” she paused, grabbing the book from his hand. “I’m gonna get this.”

Little did she know that he knew exactly what he’d said.

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For i ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

Later That Night:

The city was awash with the golden hues of twilight, slowly surrendering to the incandescent glow of a thousand streetlights. (Y/n) and Lewis strolled arm in arm down a broad, bustling street, their breath visible in the cold evening air, drawing them closer together in search of warmth. A musician serenaded the area with the sweet melodies of his violin from a nearby street corner. The couple walked in silence. It was welcome, but (y/n) decided to break it with a question.

“So,” she began softly, the night breeze carrying her words gently into the air. “What do you think you’ll do when we finally go home?”

Lew looked down at her, the soft glow of the streetlights playing across his features. An indiscernible expression passed over his face as he carefully chose his words. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied, hiding his true desire. “I think I’m going to offer Dick a position to work for me at the Nitration Works.”

In truth, he knew exactly what he wanted to do when he got home. He wanted to marry the woman in front of him, to start a life with her, to build a future together. But those words remained unsaid, guarded in his heart as he waited for the right moment to reveal them.

Her thoughtful gaze met his, and a playful grin tugged at her lips. “What if someone else happened to be looking for a job? Someone like your best friend?

Lew chuckled, masking the way his heart jolted at the suggestion. “Ehh,” he shrugged, his expression light-hearted. “Harry’s gonna marry Kitty the second we get back, so-”

(Y/n) mockingly scoffed, releasing his arm and stepping back, feigning offense. “Shut up! You’re such a-”

But her rebuke was halted as he gently drew her back toward him, his hand resting warmly on her waist, bringing her almost flush against his chest. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and a wave of shudders passed through her. 

“-Wonderful human being?” He finished, a knowing glint in his eyes and a touch of mischief in his voice. They stood close, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. “I think something can be arranged. I do know the owners, after all.”

“You wouldn’t get tired of me?” (Y/n) mumbled, feeling his warm breath on her face, the possibility both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

His eyes locked onto hers, seeing a future reflected in their depths. “Never. I’ll never get tired of you, (y/n/n).”

A tender smile crept across her lips, her heart pulsating with a mixture of excitement and affection. “Well,” she softly murmured, laying a gentle hand on his chest. “I’m glad that’s settled, then.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice smooth as honey. ”Look up.”

(Y/n) glanced at him briefly before lifting her gaze to follow his. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Eiffel Tower before her and how it seemingly touched the clouds. 

 “Wow,” she breathed, the wonder and awe evident in her voice as she took in the sight. “It’s more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

Lew’s eyes softened as he looked at her, a smile gracing his features. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “More than words can describe.”

Her awestruck gaze shifted to him, and he turned and held his hand out for her, the other gesturing toward the tower’s entrance. “Shall we?”

Nodding, she took his hand, intertwining their fingers softly, a heat spreading up her arm at the contact. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, anticipation in the air as they boarded the lift and ascended the tower. The iron structure offered a breathtaking view of Paris, like a million stars scattered across the earth. The Seine River glimmered below, winding its way through the heart of the city.

Reaching the topmost platform, they exited the lift and icy wind hit their faces. (Y/n) instinctively turned into Lew, and he wrapped an arm around her waist carefully, pulling her into his side. They made their way to the railing and leaned against it, taking in the panorama before them. At the top of the tower, amidst the twinkling lights of Paris, the air was charged with expectation, and the city below them a dreamy canvas where romance seemed to linger in every corner.

“It’s like a sea of lights,” (y/n) marveled, her voice tinged with wonder.

Lew nodded, captivated by her. “It never gets old.”

They stood there holding the other close, lost in the beauty of the scene. The night seemed to stretch endlessly, time freezing as they reveled in the magic of the moment. After a while, Lew looked down at her in his arms, his gaze soft. 

“You know,” he began, voice gentle. “Today has been one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

She smiled, the moment washing over her like a warm embrace. “Me too, Lewis. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

This was it.

Lew hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before turning to face her and taking her hand in his. “(Y/n), you’re the most important person in my life.”

When you got hit,” he continued, his voice strained but steady as he cleared his throat. “I realized that I can’t live without you. When you were gone, I-” His voice trailed off, a lump forming in his throat as he grappled with the memories of that moment.

(Y/n) stood in front of him, her breath held and heart thundering in her chest. The gravity of his words sank in, and she searched his eyes, finding a vulnerability she’d glimpsed only once before: the moment she lay bleeding out before him as he begged her to stay awake. She couldn’t bear to hear more and her heart urged her to act. So, before he could continue, a surge of courage and longing flowed through her. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him down toward her slowly. Lew then tugged her tightly against him, her body fitting perfectly into his embrace. The warmth of her presence, the scent of her hair, and the beating of her heart against his chest fueled the intensity of the moment.

As their lips met, it was an electric collision of emotions. Passion surged through their veins, a fierce and tender connection that ignited a fire within them. Her lips were soft and yielding as Lew fervently deepened the kiss, fueled by years of unvoiced affection. He slid his hand up her waist, feeling the curve of her body. His fingers gently cupped her jaw, tilting her head for a deeper connection. 

(Y/n) responded in kind, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Her hand slid into his hair, fingers intertwining with the soft strands. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her touch, matching the tempo of her own. 

As they reluctantly pulled away, their breathless pants mingled in the cold night air creating a visible mist. Their lips tingled, the echoes of the kiss lingering. Nix could feel his heart racing, an adrenaline-fueled excitement that made him momentarily forget the cold. He smiled, his cheeks flushed with a mix of cold air and warmth from their embrace. 

“Wow.” he managed to say, breathless and amazed.

(Y/n) laughed, a delightful sound that filled the space around them. “Yeah, wow,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with joy and love. 

They stood there, caught in a bubble of euphoria, their laughter ringing in the Parisian night. The world below seemed to carry on, but for that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the magic of the Eiffel Tower. 

Lewis brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle and affectionate. “I’ve wanted to do that for years, you know. You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. 

Blushing, (y/n)’s smile widened. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for years,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his coat.

“What?” He asked in disbelief. “I didn’t know that!”

She shrugged. “Well, for an intelligence officer, you can be clueless.”

Smirking, he brought her close once more, their foreheads touching. “I love you. More than anything,” he whispered. His hand, warm and gentle, cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing circles as if to memorize every contour.

(Y/n) smiled, a radiant expression that illuminated the darkness around them. “I love you, too,” she responded, her voice tender, as if afraid this might still be a dream.

The years of unspoken feelings, the shared laughter, the late-night conversations…they had all led to this moment. The Eiffel Tower, with all its history and romantic lore, bore witness to the birth of their love story.

Their lips met again, softer this time, a gentle affirmation of their confessions. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and futures. Nix let his hand fall from her cheek to her waist, pulling her close in a tender embrace.

(Y/n) rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that they had crossed the line they’d been wanting for the longest time.

“I never want this moment to end,” Lew whispered, his voice a tender murmur.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and a tinge of sadness. “Me neither. I wish we could always be this close.”

He nodded, a sense of completeness settling in his heart. The view of Paris below them was still breathtaking, but it paled in comparison to their love, which encompassed their world, lighting it in a dazzling haze. 

(Y/n) gasped suddenly, the sound echoing in the cold air and joltingLew from his thoughts. He looked at her, concern furrowing his brow. “What?” He asked, eyes widening with a mix of surprise and worry.

“Is this why Dick gave us the passes?” She asked, amusement filling her voice.

Nix’s laughter joined the chorus of the Parisian night, a hearty sound that seemed to reverberate through the beams of the tower itself. He found himself shrugging, an innocent look on his face. “Maybe,” he admitted, mischief floating in his eyes.

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[vivaciouscynner]

People vs SPOP Artists

A judge looks at a file in their hands and then glances at you. The judge has resting-you're-fucked face and you already feel the tingles of doubt creeping over you. You swallow hard. Breathing is more difficult as you sit ramrod straight in the hard wooden chair. Your sitting bones and back have given up but you convince yourself that punishing yourself might earn you a lighter sentence.

The judge sighs in length. You catch a glimpse of what they're looking at. It's your art. It's Catra and the eyes are drawn Yellow|Blue instead of Blue|Yellow. You know this! But you were excited to share.

The papers land on the desk and the judge folds their hands over them. They give you a long, hard stare and you're sure they've noticed the beads of sweat accumulating over your brow and temples.

"How long have you been a fan? Hm?" They offer a flicker of a friendly smile.

You begin to speak, but you've forgotten your breath and it comes out as a muted croak. You cough for a moment and then you finally say, "D-During the pandemic. I-I lost my job a-and I know it's s-s-suppos-"

"Alright, alright," they say, "So roughly two years. Is that correct?"

You give a hard nod, "Yes."

They lean back in their chair and nod subtly into their hand. It looks like pondering, but you know they've already had a lecture prepared. "The penalty for this is severe. Loss of follows, being canceled, you'll need a new identity," they cut themselves off, "ehhh I don't agree with it, but it is the law."

You immediately feel completely fucked. Your brows furrow hard and you're ready to sob right then and there. "But, considering this is your first, well, first notable offense, I may be able to offer some leniency. But let me first ask, if Catra is facing you and you're looking at her, can you tell me what color HER right eye is?"

All you can think about is how you drew the eyes Yellow|Blue over and over in your mind. You immediately say, "Yellow." Dread washes over you, "BLUE! BLUE! HER RIGHT MY LEFT, IT'S BLUE!" You offer the most pathetic pleading eyes you can.

They put their hand up, "Order now," they say calmly and you quiet down. They say now, "I was there from the beginning, you know. I was there when it was already getting massive attention from those who said the characters didn't look like women. And this was before the show even aired! And when it finally did, you know what I did? I watched it out of spite. Quickly, I became obsessed. This show consumed me. I'd rewatch the episodes over and over on a constant loop. It might have been much, but it made me happy. Tell me, does the show make you happy?

"Very much, your honor."

They nod, "The first season," they huff a laugh, "the first season had so many animation errors. Did you know there was a scene where Adora was missing her shoe straps in Princess Prom? One of my absolute favorite episodes. I found easter eggs, flaws, I went through that episode and others, frame by frame some days. And you know what I've learned? People make mistakes. People fall down. In the case of Catra, people fall down hard," they chuckle, "Am I right?"

You force a chuckle and it's absolutely soaked with anxiety.

"Even the creators of the show had messed up Catra's eyes. Not once, but multiple occasions. It seemed whenever there was a reflection, they'd forgotten, too, which side those eyes were on. All the way until Season 5! It was brief, but it was there." They breathe a moment and begin to look at your art work again. They smile like they're admiring it. "Alright," they set the images down again, "I hereby sentence you to..."

You want to throw up. After all that, they're still sentencing you. FUCK YOU YOU OLD PIECE OF SHIT!

"...a full 5 season rewatch of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power with greater attention to Catra's features. A list of steps of how you'll be remembering to flip the canvas, and maybe accepting a commission from me if you have time. How does that sound?" They look at you with a smile.

You breathe! You breathe like you haven't in years. You nod emphatically. Relieved! Relieved it's finally over.

The judge bangs their gavel, "Court dismissed, you're free to go." They offer one last wink as they walk off the bench and exit the courtroom.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[mc-lukanette]

42 More Lukanette Thoughts

Marinette making a lucky charm bracelet for Luka, but being afraid to give it to him since Adrien also has one and she doesn’t want Luka thinking that he’s just a replacement for Adrien. Luka finds the gift eventually and naturally does not think that at all.

Luka being a morning person (or at least more of one than Marinette) so he helps Marinette’s sleep schedule by calling her to wake her up in the morning. This also leads to late-night calls between them where they both check if the other is sleeping at the right time (which can lead to either good or bad things; good because they’re checking on each other, bad because they clearly don’t have self-control and might just keep each other up).

Luka ends up hurting one of his hands and proceeds to avoid Marinette, knowing that his lack of ability to play music might affect him emotionally. He doesn’t want her to see him vulnerable. Marinette inevitably figures it out and frets over him while also thinking up ways to help him out.

Marinette being miserable every time she hears the ballroom music that she used to associate with her (former) love for Adrien. She was with Luka once and he got to witness her shouting angrily at the speakers playing the music that she has a boyfriend who is NOT Adrien and she doesn’t appreciate this reminder of Adrien’s existence.

Marinette struggling to confess to Luka, but then having no problem rambling off praises for him to other people.

Marinette tries on Luka’s highlights once and surprises Luka with it. He’s so caught off-guard that he reaches up and touches/feels her hair himself, earning a blush out of Marinette. Now she has to try his looks more so he’ll initiate physical contact more.

Luka getting his own version of “Copycat” (not him being jealous, but just an akuma who’s out to make him look bad). The name? Lukalike.

AU where Marinette isn’t technically into Adrien, but has been brought up/grew up to plan and schedule for the future to an obsessive degree (in line with all her scheduling in canon). She actually wasn’t romantically in love with Adrien but saw him as a viable option and he was “already in her plans” by the time Luka showed up. Marinette cut Luka off in a panic after realizing she was in love with him, but realizes her mistake later on and absolutely drops an emotional bomb on him when she reveals that she returned his feelings this whole time and had to get over her obsession for planning/organization first..

Luka still being the calm, collected individual he is, but he’s actually really excitable and “loud” over text. Marinette learns that after they exchange numbers and it’s adorable.

Vagabond (Homeless) Luka who travels all around, playing music for people. Marinette loves his music and will happily walk around to find him playing, even if she’s crunched for time. He provides lots of inspiration for her though it sure is weird how long he’s been around??? what could he possibly be sticking around for? (bonus if he sticks around so long that it leads into winter and obviously she’s not letting him stay outside)

Luka and Marinette meeting as Viperion and Ladybug, falling for each other, and they want to date but they also don’t want people to know so cue superhero dating.

AU where Juleka either wasn’t born or she and Luka simply didn’t grow up together, so Luka didn’t have to grow into the “big brother” type. He’s also bad with physical contact, as his mother isn’t a very physically-affectionate person, so he seeks out a way to be better with being touched. In comes Marinette and she happily offers to get him used to physical contact. Bonus if she starts feeling jealous at the idea of him eventually being able to touch other people and Double Bonus if she just ends up being the exception more than anything else and they’re both okay with that.

Pre-dating, Luka and Marinette knowing full well what they do to each other and going out of their way to make the other blush.

“Felix” divergence where it turns out that Marinette was still pursuing Adrien because she was convinced that Luka wasn’t actually crushing on her (thought it was her overthinking/hoping for too much because she “is used to being disappointed” by now, plus the fact that he confessed and then walked away without saying a word), but she realizes that he is when he makes the comment about “being there for her.” She explains it to him in relief and Luka’s heart is sent on a ride because he was convinced that she didn’t feel that way about him. Bonus if now Marinette is panicking about the video and will later be glad that it didn’t go through.

Sass “challenging” Marinette and teasingly saying that he’ll take Luka if she doesn’t want him. Cue Marinette being very jealous of Sass hanging around Luka all the time and she eventually gets fed up to the point of confessing to Luka outright, then being all smug to Sass who had planned this from the beginning so he’s not complaining.

Rose gets a cold, so Luka temporarily takes over as Kitty Section’s singer for practice. Marinette isn’t ready.

Childhood Friends AU where Marinette grows up believing that Luka and Juleka must have the same romantic orientation because they’re twins and she doesn’t know how orientations works. Thus, clearly Luka is gay which means that he doesn’t return her feelings obviously (she’s very wrong).

Marinette wanting a song to replace the ballroom music she remembers when she was still crushing on Adrien, so she non-subtly tries to find a song that Luka would like that they could slow dance to (either pre or post dating).

Post-battle, Viperion asking Ladybug if it’s okay for him to hang onto the snake miraculous for a little longer, then going on to explain that Marinette, a friend of his, seemed really sad that day and he figured it’d help to be visited by a hero. (Ladybug is screaming internally because she knows that she’s not supposed to let them keep them any longer than the battle but his request is so pure and sweet and he’s doing it for her--)

Viperion setting up for Second Chance. During the battle, he and Ladybug end up bonding and/or kissing, but Viperion ends up needing to go back, thus erasing it from the timeline. However, while Ladybug doesn’t seem to remember the specifics or what happened, she seems to have vague feelings that he used Second Chance and even touches her lips at one point with a thoughtful look.

Marinette learning how to do her own make-up to try and look closer to the age that Luka looks. She very much doesn’t need it to impress him/make him think that she’s pretty..

Marinette getting into bouts of being extremely lame and romantic, like texting Luka things like, “I was just thinking about you,” and then regretting it when he responds with something equally lame with no hesitation.

Fu being okay with Luka knowing Ladybug’s identity, as Luka is someone who keeps to himself, is able to keep a secret, and actively supports Marinette.

One day, Marinette accidentally catches Luka working on a love song that’s clearly written for her. He’s embarrassed for once, partly because he’d never intended for her to hear it, but she assures him that it’s okay and she’d like to hear the full thing. She shows up occasionally to listen to his progress, Luka suspecting nothing, then cut to when the full song is done and she ends up singing it alongside him without warning, essentially confessing back to him.

Event where Marinette is put in charge of selling custom-made “Ladybug Fan” and “Chat Noir Fan” T-shirts. And then in comes Luka with a white shirt and a shoddily-but-lovingly-written “Marinette Fan” on it (bonus if he tried to draw her pink flowers).

Marinette drawing something for Adrien in her sketchbook and keeps abandoning it to spend time with/visit Luka (a metaphor for her slowly getting over Adrien and falling for Luka instead). She’ll end up making something for Luka instead in the end.

At some point in adulthood, Marinette admitting to Luka that she’s been crushing on him for a long time, but was afraid of saying anything. Luka assures her that there’s still a place in his heart, but Marinette needs time to accept that (out of guilt and being convinced for so long that he’d never forgive her) and/or Luka needs time to really confirm to himself that she means it (not that he doesn’t believe her but he’s thought for so long that she didn’t like him that way). Cue awkward dorks slowly working their way into a relationship with hand touches, cheek kisses, and finally the full acceptance that they’re willing to forget about what they thought before and just love each other.

Luka and Marinette being married with kids. Whenever Marinette has to let Luka sleep, he’ll wake up later but with their kids telling him that she told them to tell him that she loves him (she also might’ve skipped breakfast because she doesn’t like having it without him and Luka will definitely be going to meet with her for lunch, complete with kisses for giving him so many feels in the morning).

someone: Marinette, don’t hide your face in your hands. [Marinette proceeds to use Luka’s hands to hide her face instead]

Marinette and Luka, having never met, being in a pet store and buying a pet mouse and snake respectively. Unexpectedly, the two pets escape from them at some point before they leave the store, and after frantically searching, they find the mouse and snake next to each other and actually seeming to get along as if they’re friends. The store owner confirms that the two animals frequently escape to see each other and they have no idea why, but Luka and Marinette acknowledge it and decide to exchange addresses so their pets can still see each other. Meeting up “just for the sake of their pets” quickly becomes an excuse.

Luka is definitely the type who wouldn’t wash off Marinette’s lipstick kisses for the longest time. Marinette ends up having to clean them off herself (which really just encourages him not to do it himself more).

Likewise, Marinette forgot her gloves once while it was cold and Luka warmed her hands for her, so she continued “forgetting them” after that.

Luka and Marinette end up getting a pet and Marinette struggling between finding Luka playing with their pet adorable and being extremely jealous because now the pet is stealing her Luka time.

Post-dating, Marinette having self-esteem issues over being as short as she is (maybe having gotten rude comments from models before). She keeps trying to kiss Luka from above and insisting on being the big spoon.

Kitty Section getting a singing game and Luka getting to hear Marinette singing for the first time. Now he has to hear it so much more. Bonus if their voices blend well together when they sing together.

Marinette wanting to give Luka promise ring but being convinced that he’d hate it because he “already has so many accessories” (as if Luka wouldn’t enthusiastically wear anything she gives him).

Luka being an exhausted rock star who flees from paparazzi and his fans. Marinette ends up seeing him and letting him hide in her house, being a huge fan of him but not getting to star-struck levels since she grew up with a famous model friend and knowing celebrities. She allows Luka to hide at her place whenever he wants and eventually worries about him seeing her as “just like his fans” when she realizes that she’s crushing on him.

Marinette breaking up with Adrien in adulthood, which starts a lot of rumors from people about how Marinette will just turn down any guy she sees because who in the right mind would break up with the sunshine model??? Then, cue Luka (who may or may not have met Marinette yet) coming in and seeing all the distance people make from Marinette (and not getting it), so he happily approaches her and strikes up a conversation because he doesn’t care about rumors or anything like that.

Marinette getting a two-seater bike for Luka and trying to be subtle about it like

Alya doing a scheme by inventing some sort of game where someone gets chosen and has to shout out the person they love because, “Girl, you blurt things out all the time! You’ll totally say Adrien’s name,” and then Marinette blurts out Luka’s name because she loves him and not Adrien, shocking everyone.

If Marinette and Luka (i.e: the “thinkers” of the hero group) were akumatized together, Paris - no, the world - would be officially screwed.

Fashion Designer Marinette and Rock Star Luka. Marinette has been trying to confess to Luka for a while, but things usually go wrong or the timing is always off. She finally says “screw it” to subtlety, and waits for them to have an interview together (as Luka wears Marinette’s clothes constantly and they’re best friends), then unzips her jacket to “get comfortable” while they’re sitting next to each other, revealing an, “I Love Luka Couffaine (yes, romantically),” shirt. The interviewer and audience notice immediately (especially due to the large screen in the background that shows an enlarged view of the interviewer, Luka, and Marinette) and then it’s just a matter of waiting for Luka to notice (probably after he stops gushing about Marinette’s amazing clothing choices).

[san-fics]

COZplay

Felinette

Ao3

[Authors note: This story is gonna be an emotional ride, so make sure you went through tags on Ao3 before reading it - I will mark the smut-chapter with 18+ sign, so if you want avoid reading it you want, it won’t give too big impact on the plot of the story, but I suggest you read it if you are ready to at list Teen And Up-Audiences rating for hot 18+ marked parts]

Part 5

“Marinette!” Miss Bustier called. “Could you come to me after the lesson?”

From the guilty expression on the teacher’s face, Marinette realized that she wanted to give the girl some of her work again, citing her position as class representative.

Before, Marinette hadn’t objected to such errands, but lately, her prolonged silent depression didn’t leave her strength for unnecessary things.

Marinette realized that while she was distracted by such things that didn’t concern her at all, she missed more important things when she failed as a Guardian.

Of course she blamed herself for everything! Marinette fell for the same trick twice, confusing one boy for another, and gave up the weapon that was used against her.

Marinette let her feelings for Adrien cloud her mind and the akuma’s influence only made it worse. She didn’t pay attention to the little things that now seemed so obvious to her...

And now that this traitor was in the same class as her, she just fumed every time she saw him.

Marinette couldn’t calmly endure any of his actions and sometimes she was even worried that her such an obvious attitude towards him would betray her secret identity.

Fortunately, Felix managed to harm not only her and not only in this, so her classmates attributed everything to her deleted confession from Adrien’s phone.

Confession of love that she left behind.

Her silly crush on Adrien had caused enough troubles in her life. And after her feelings for him made her act so recklessly, she realized that she couldn’t look at him at all.

It lasted for a while.

Then her warmth gradually returned, but now she saw the guy more alive, real, and really could see a friend in him, leaving naive sighs to the new generation of schoolgirls.

A few weeks ago, Marinette turned 18 and now she looked at her future with a more sober look.

Until a few days ago this guy showed up…

In recent months, Marinette has been very focused on fighting akumas: repelling the miraculous from her akumatized friends, strengthened by the miraculous themselves, was not an easy task, and Hawkmoth was smart and sophisticated…

Her friends often said that she was too stressed out when she refused to participate in their parties. Though Marinette wasn’t THAT depressed, but more like very concentrated and a little sad.

And then Adrien suddenly gave her this phone number.

During their long midnight conversations Marinette felt that she was falling in love with great speed – his every word fell deeper into her than she could expect from a stranger.

Besides, at this point she was hungry for romance, and these poems, as well as his soft slightly familiar voice in her ear, poured into her hungry heart like a full-flowing river...

Marinette approached the teacher, thinking how to subtly refuse her request.

“Marinette, I want to ask you to help Felix fill out these papers.” Miss Bustier said. “Since he’s only been with us for a few weeks, he’s the only one in the class who hasn’t filled them in yet, and I have to turn them in by the end of the week. Therefore, it would be best if you participate in order to make sure that he doesn’t have difficulties and we are all done on time.”

At the mention of Felix, Marinette was so fumed that she even forgot that she was going to refuse this job.

She grabbed the papers and walked away.

Well, at least everyone had already dispersed and she had some time to calm down, otherwise Marinette would have attacked him again and spoiled her mood even more.

*

Marinette was sitting in her room when her phone buzzed.

Miss Bustier: Marinette, you left so fast, I forgot to give you Felix’s phone number in case you need to contact him out of school for finishing those papers

Miss Bustier: here is his contact information

Marinette sighed and reluctantly began saving the new number on her phone.

“This number already exists,” – her phone reported.

Marinette frowned. She didn’t remember saving Felix’s number before. And in his case, she definitely would.

She tried again with the same result before finally checking, which contact her phone considered to be recurring.

Her back went cold.

Marinette stared at the screen of her phone, not believing what she was seeing.

That shouldn’t be right, her mind protested.

But gradually pieces of information formed in her head into one picture, and Marinette realized what exactly had happened.

Adrien gave her his cousin’s number – that’s where the weird name came from. And when the model realized his mistake, he didn’t tell her…

But he alone knew what Felix had done to her! Not to her, of course, to Ladybug! But still! Is this good-boy ready to forgive all the villains: Chloe, Lila, Felix, maybe even Hawkmoth?!

And Felix himself…

He knew it was her from the start! He even heard her conversation with Adrien!

What a sophisticated revenge for her constant scandals with him! What a cruel game, with poems and long conversations...

This red dog made her fall in love with him just as one of his pranks!

But she will show them both! Especially this vile traitor!..

Marinette didn’t even notice that her mind didn’t resist the confession of her feelings that sounded in her head for the first time.

*

Marinette entered the class with a tense face, and it seemed to Felix that there was some nervousness in her gait too.

He couldn’t tell what exactly, but something was off.

“Adrien!” She exclaimed, passing by his cousin. “I just wanted to thank you again!” Marinette continued, “You are such a good friend!”

“I uhh…” Adrien looked at her confused. “Thank you, Marinette. You are a very good friend too.”

“Oh, but not as good as you are!” Marinette insisted. “You helped me so much when you gave me your friend’s number! I think I almost fell in love!” She added.

Then she abruptly turned away from the model and went to her seat without waiting for his response.

Felix saw Adrien turn slightly pale as he turned his surprised face after the girl. Then he lifted his gaze and looked into his cousin’s face with horrified eyes.

Felix straightened up in his chair and stared at Marinette’s back, feeling his body shake slightly at this unexpected turn of events.

If she hadn’t almost confessed her love to him before, Felix would have thought it was sarcasm – so hard her voice sounded. But maybe something just spoiled her mood?

And he definitely didn’t expect her admitting her progressing feelings towards her new friend in front of her crush. Ex-crush?

As soon as the lesson started, a new message appeared on Felix’s phone screen.

Marinette: i feel his eyes on me again

Coz: who’s?

Marinette: there is this boy in my class

Marinette: he is kind of hot

Of course! – Felix thought woefully. How could he dream about her confessing her love to him when there was Adrien nearby!

Wait, Marinette couldn’t talk about Adrien, he’s sitting in front of her and can’t see her…

Felix looked around the class: Kim?

Marinette: he is sitting behind me

. [part 4] … [part 6]

Chapters 6-7 are available on my Patreon

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[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[flooffybits]

Dreamcatcher reacting to s/o being non binary

Idol: Dreamcatcher

marshmallow: Hi! May I request dreamcatcher reaction to reader being non binary?

☕buy me a coffee☕

Jiu:

Minji is a very empathetic person. Ever since you started dating, she takes pride in how well she’s able to read you and match your mood whenever she could. If you were feeling extremely happy, she sees that twinkle in your eyes right before you open your mouth to tell her what it was that brightened up your day. When you’re down, she sees how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyes refuse to meet anyone else’s just because you think no one will notice.

But she does.

So it worries her when you come to her one day, the anxiety seeping off of you when you cross your arms across your chest, almost as though you were shielding yourself from whatever may happen with the conversation you were about to have.

And to be honest, it kind of scared her to see you this way. But after you were finally able to tell her what was bothering you, her worries slowly melt away as her shoulders relaxed the more that you explained.

This took you a whole lot of courage to finally tell her and she could see it with how your posture shifted every now and then that she couldn’t help but pull you into her arms and gave you big hug.

“It’s okay. I’m so proud of you, and thank you for trusting me.”

Sua:

You’ve been trying to think of ways on telling your girlfriend about being non-binary for a while now. While it didn’t exactly bother you when you first got together, you eventually started to be more and more aware of your own identity when time passed and it scared you when you came to terms with who you really are.

You didn’t tell her right away because you wanted to be sure, yet all the thinking had only ended up with a headache, so when Bora came home, she was extremely worried to see you curled up on the couch instead of being in bed. Carefully, she crept over to check if you were asleep before she quietly laid behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she buried her face into your neck, pressing a light kiss against it.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why aren’t you in bed?” When you turn around to face her, she can see the uncertainty in your eyes and she feels more worried as she caresses your cheek. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

She’s patient when she sees that this is taking its toll on you until you finally admit that you are non-binary, your voice barely a whisper and she presses a tender kiss to your forehead before she tightened her arms around you.

“It doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you’re you and that you’re happy with who you are. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ll still love you either way.”

Siyeon:

You know that you shouldn’t worry about your girlfriend accepting you once you tell her, but the fear is still there, lingering in the back of your head like a parasite that won’t leave you alone.

As confident as you were that she wouldn’t react negatively towards you, the what ifs still popped up when you think you can finally tell her. And with your inner turmoil, you don’t realize that she’s noticed.

She sees it on your face that you want to tell her something, but back off just at the last minute. She wonders what it is and she wonders why it’s bothering you so much, but she doesn’t ask, wanting to give you the time and space that you needed to be ready to tell her whatever was on your mind.

So when you sit her down one night to finally tell her, she looks as you nervously avoid making any sort of eye contact when you talk. The way her piercing gaze cuts through you was nerve wracking enough as it was, so you didn’t have to look at her to know that she was staring at you.

“Hey, look at me.” She’d call you when you finish your little ramble, gently taking your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s okay. I’m only going to keep loving you more than I do the day before. Don’t think it’ll ever be any less.”

Handong:

You were honestly afraid of your girlfriend at times because she could be so random in the times you least expect her to be, but she’s cute like that. However, it doesn’t take away the nerves of telling her you were non-binary.

In fact, you’re way too nervous about how she’ll react because you don’t know what her stand on the whole thing is.

You try to ask her about it, how she feels about people who are non-binary, showing her posts and whatever you found online that would seem interesting, resorting to memes even just so it wouldn’t be too odd to randomly show it to her.

But all the distractions and attempts at delaying the inevitable was all futile because as soon as you decided to finally tell her, your hands would not stop shaking and you couldn’t fight back the tears as they began to sting your eyes.

When Handong saw this, she quickly scooped you into her arms and ran her fingers through your hair as you clutched at the sleeve of her sweater. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She would be so worried and you’re not sure why you feel even more scared, but you were lucky that she was able to understand your words even if you were a little choked up.

Instantly, her expression would soften while her arms tighten around you. “Oh, Y/n, I’m not going to leave you for something like this. You’re you, and I chose to accept every part of you no matter what since the beginning.” She’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you calm down, reminding you again and again of how much she loves you.

Yoohyeon:

Yoohyeon is a very openminded person and you had no doubt that she wouldn’t react negatively to you telling her about how you identified yourself. Though there was a touch of doubt at the very back of your mind, you decided that it was better to be upfront about it rather than delaying.

So when she comes to your apartment as planned, you were already waiting for her in the living room and shuffling your feet. “How is the most amazing girlfriend in the world?” She asked cheerfully and you awkwardly clear your throat before shrugging your shoulders in attempt to seem nonchalant. “I don’t know, how are you?”

She pouts at your response before giving you a light hit on the arm. “I’m fine, but how about you?” This was it. The start of the conversation gave you the perfect opening, so you decided to bite the bullet. “Well, for one, I’m not a girl, and two, I’m feeling a little nervous about you reacting to that.” She’d pause at your statement and you can see the gears in her head turning as she stared at you.

Slowly, she’d blink as the words finally sink in and a very soft “oh” would pass her lips before walking up to you and cupping your face as she stared at you with a very determined expression on her own face. “I love you so much.” You’d be taken aback by her sudden declaration, but before you can question it, she’s already showering you with so many praises.

“You are amazing and the most loving, caring, and loving partner I could have asked for and you’re so strong, and I just want you to know that I love you so much.”

Dami:

You honestly do your best to be subtle when Yubin is around. She picks up on things quickly, so if you drop enough hints, it’ll be easier for you to ease it into a conversation with her because at least she’d have an idea as to what you want to talk about with her.

While you were already bracing yourself for a long talk with your girlfriend, you were thoroughly surprised and maybe just a tad bit disappointed when she nodded her head. “Oh, that’s nice.” She’d then proceed with asking you what you want to eat for lunch and what you’d wish to do afterwards.

Her lack of a reaction had caused your thoughts to run the whole day, and you wonder, did it bother her? Did she care?

You wanted to know that you made the right decision, so you go to look for her in the living room. But as you came closer, you were more surprised than you were that morning when you saw her scrolling through her phone with various topics and articles regarding non-binary and transgender people.

“Dami?”

At the sound of your voice calling out to her, the rapper would turn her head, subtly putting her phone away as she’d smile at you and wave you over. “Hey, there you are. I was wondering where you went.” You’d be confused by her words before she’ll gesture for you to sit with her, arms wrapping around you as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

Your initial reason for finding her flew out the window, and instead, she was the one who did the asking. “I just wanted to know a few things and I hope this isn’t too much for you, but is there a different name you want me to call you now?”

The gentleness of her tone and the way she tries to be careful with her words and approach melted away your doubts, but it’s her question that brings tears to your eyes because you know just how much she really cares.

 Gahyeon:

While you think Gahyeon doesn’t really notice when you shift or become an even more awkward mess when she calls you her girlfriend when she’s boasting to her members, you have no idea just how much the girl worries because she thinks that she’s done something to upset you.

Did you not like it when she showed you off? Did it make you uncomfortable? Did you not like people knowing you were together?

You were both having your own internal conflict and you were surprised when she was the one who called you over to talk, making your nerves skyrocket when she said she had something to talk to you about.

“I just want to know that you’re not having second thoughts about us.” You were so shocked by her words and you immediately shake your head when tears start forming in her eyes as she explained how she’s noticed your odd behavior whenever she talks about you.

“No, no, of course I’m sure about us! I was just, well you see...” You stumble over your words, but eventually, you’re able to tell her just why you didn’t look so comfortable when she talked about you and she felt both extremely relieved yet a bit disappointed with herself for not noticing sooner.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She immediately does her best with correcting herself. Though there will be times that she forgets out of habit, she always catches herself before properly addressing you, wanting to make you feel as comfortable and cared for as she can.

“I’m sorry that I keep forgetting, but I swear, I’ll keep trying harder.” She might need to adjust a bit and get accustomed to this bit of information, but when she’s unsure of something, she’ll always ask you before anything else.

[bevvydraws]

Sweet Justice (cont.)

1, 2, 3

Chapter 4

Chat Noir almost wanted to groan at his current predicament. Tied up by a rope that the knights had managed to scrounge up somewhere, unable to move and a million thoughts racing through his head. 

Ladybug is--was--Marinette. 

Marinette is now akumatized. 

Chat Noir loves Ladybug. 

Adrien loves Marinette.

Adrien didn’t see that Marinette was struggling. He didn’t see that she needed help. He wasn’t there for her as a friend or as a partner. He had failed. She probably got akumatized because she felt she couldn’t trust anyone, even him. Even Chat Noir. 

Chat Noir began panicking slightly, feeling overwhelmed by the new information and not sure where to go from here. This would normally be the part where Ladybug would tell him her plan and he would see it through with her. But Ladybug wasn’t here. And she wouldn’t be showing up any time soon. He looked around at his classmates, all turned into knights ready to follow Princess Justice to the ends of the Earth if she asked. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset at them, because he could only imagine the guilt they must have felt before succumbing to her powers. 

He had to figure out how to escape without hurting any of them. Chat Noir sat quietly, gently chewing on his lip as he racked his brain with ideas. His baton was just out of reach, no one taking it since Princess Justice hadn’t told them to. If he could just stretch his leg out far enough to get his baton back, he’d feel a lot more prepared to make another move. Chat Noir tried to subtly stretch his leg out, scooting forward a little bit in order to get the toe of his boot around the baton. He had almost had it back to him when the classroom door opened. 

In walked Ivan and Kim, the two knights who had carried Lila to outside to be publicly humiliated in her stocks. In the back of his mind, Chat Noir was pleased with that knowledge. Behind Ivan and Kim, however, walked a third knight that Chat didn’t recognize. As the knight marched to him, Chat scooted himself backwards as far against the wall as he could, his baton forgotten. Normally, Chat wouldn’t have acted so cowardly in front of a villain. 

But these weren’t villains. These were good people protecting someone dear to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel right now. 

The knight stopped in front of him, extending a hand out to show that they were holding a letter. Chat looked up at them, and trying to sound as normal as possible, said, “Now I can’t very well take that letter with my arms behind my back, now can I?”

While this was meant to be sarcastic, the knights looked at each other pensively. 

“Her Royal Highness told me to deliver this letter to him,” the knight holding the letter said, “and to only let him read it.” 

Nino looked at him, glazed over eyes narrowed in contemplation. Alya spoke up, “If Her Royal Highness wants him to read it, then we have no choice but to untie him long enough to let him do so.” 

“You’re right,” Nino nodded, before forcing Chat Noir to stand up and beginning to untie him, “No funny business, cat.” Chat tried not to think too hard about how the voice coming out of his best friend was Nino’s voice, but at the same time sounded nothing like him. 

“Cat’s honor,” Chat replied smoothly, forcing his usual confident attitude. Once he was untied, he took the letter from the knight and read over the letter as the knights were on guard, expecting him to try and escape. 

“Dear Chat Noir,” the letter started, “You have no obligation to trust me, but I have no intention of giving Hawkmoth what he wants. I have a plan, but I need you to help in order for things to go in our favor. I know where his lair is. I was right before to suspect Gabriel Agreste. I know this will be hard on you… given your identity, but I trust that you will help me on my quest to make things right once and for all.” Chat felt tears well up in his eyes, not sure whether to cry over the fact his father was Hawkmoth afterall, or over the fact that Marinette said she trusted him even now. Wiping his tears away before they could even fall, he continued reading, “I need you to remain a prisoner for now, and trust me.” At the bottom of the letter the name Princess Justice was signed in regal, swooping letters, but it was obvious that she wrote this in a hurry. 

Chat Noir folded the letter up and stuck it in the pocket of his suit before holding his hands out in surrender. “Alright, you can tie me back up now.” 

--------

“It’s odd that Ladybug hasn’t shown up yet,” Princess Justice mused out loud, feigning concern. “Maybe she doesn’t care about her little kitten as much as she previously let on.” She mostly said this out loud for Hawkmoth’s benefit, as she had come to realize that Hawkmoth couldn’t read her thoughts, only hear what she was saying. Even the view he had from her eyes seemed to be limited, as he hadn’t said anything about the note she had written to Chat Noir. 

Now all Princess Justice had to do was act busy as she assembled her army. She could feel her ranks growing, a single thought resonating clearly throughout everyone’s minds: to seek justice. To free Paris of the plague it had been cursed with for so long. It was time to set things right. 

As she moved through the streets, she had a flock of knights surrounding her at all times. She was more than capable of defending herself, and she was confident no one would try and attack her, but she had to save face before Hawkmoth became too suspicious of her. “Set up a throne for me in the school courtyard. I have a few declarations to make. Our army is just about large enough.” 

-------

It didn’t take long for everything to be set up in the gym. A makeshift throne was quickly built by dismantling various furniture around the school. It wasn’t perfect, but Princess Justice found herself fond of it anyways. It was situated on the upper floor of the school overlooking the rest of the courtyard. Princess Justice was already settled into place on her throne, Alya and Nino on either side of her as her most trusted and dearest knights. 

Of course, when she had approached the school she had seen Lila in her stocks, no longer screaming but begging desperately to be released. She whined and complained about her wrists being sore, and her back hurting from her awkward standing position. Princess Justice was barely able to contain her laughter, finding humor in the situation. Because for once, Lila was being honest about her ailments. But despite that, she did not stop to give Lila any attention and simply brushed passed her like she wasn’t there. 

Now that she was away from Lila, however, she allowed her amused smirk to grace her lips as she looked down at the courtyard. Slowly, the area below was being filled by knights. One by one, or sometimes in small groups, they would march in and automatically fall into formation. They stared ahead at nothing, on standby until their Princess addressed them. Princess Justice turned to Alya, “How did our kitten behave?” she asked, keeping things cryptic enough to where Hawkmoth would not understand what she was actually asking. 

“He seemed dejected the entire time, Highness,” Alya responded, “but he did not put up a fight.” 

“Excellent,” Princess Justiced said, with a little too much relief in her tone. She coughed quietly and looked to Nino, “Get someone to bring him out here to me. I want him right at my feet.” In a flash, Nino was gone, and a moment later he and Kim were bringing Chat Noir to her. Chat didn’t struggle even the slightest bit, his gaze fixed to the floor as he was forced to sit on the ground right next to her feet. 

“Oh kitty,” Princess Justice crooned sweetly, her fingers slightly ruffling his hair, “I know how hard it must be for you, not knowing where your spotted heroine is. You must feel so abandoned and alone.” She knew she would have to play up her role as someone on Hawkmoth’s side, but she prayed her kitten would be able to read between the lines. 

“I know my Lady hasn’t abandoned me,” Chat whispered, “She’s never let me down before. I don’t believe she’d start now.” 

Princess Justice was touched, but wouldn’t let it show. Taking advantage of Hawkmoth’s limited sight through her eyes, she gently tilted Chat Noir’s face up to look at her and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. Chat’s eyes were watery, and he sniffled the tiniest bit, but he still grinned at her. The same grin he always gave Ladybug. 

But there was something more to it now. The innocence and trust in his eyes, even behind the mask, reminded Princess Justice so much of Adrien. Chat Noir was so naive in most things, despite his obvious intelligence and competence as a hero. He flirted clumsily, as if he were the protagonist in a cheesy rom-com, but it was obviously genuine. He made poorly timed jokes, like someone who hadn’t been taught to read a room, but he never had ill intentions. 

Yes, it was obvious to Princess Justice now, that Adrien and Chat Noir were one and the same, and briefly she wondered why she had never put two and two together before. But she knew the answer. She was afraid of knowing. Afraid that once the secrets were gone she would be forced to open up more of herself to him, something she wasn’t sure she could do. Her fear of showing weakness to one of the most important people in her life, even though he’d never given her reason to fear opening up to him, crippled her to the point where she wasn’t able to see the answer right in front of her. 

Literally, he sat right in front of her. And she never noticed. 

If Hawkmoth knew that the owner of one of the miraculouses he was so desperately hunting was his son, would he stop? Would he feel guilt or remorse? Princess Justice sincerely doubted it, and the thought made her heart break. 

“Ladybug won’t show,” Princess Justice whispered, “Obviously she’s too much of a coward.” 

“You and I must be talking about different Ladybugs,” came Chat’s quick response. 

Princess Justice wanted to argue, but it would do no good. She had a mission to accomplish. Slipping another note to Chat Noir, detailing her plan to take down Hawkmoth, she stood from her throne and made her way to the railing. Instantly all eyes below were on her, their attention focused entirely on the powerful presence before them. 

“My dear knights. Today is a day that will go down in history. Today, you shall protect me on my journey to escort Chat Noir to Hawkmoth personally. Should anyone stand in our way, I trust you will take care of them quickly and with grace. Our aim is not to harm anyone, because violence only breeds more violence,” her voice rang out into the courtyard, her words like a magic spell. Which, technically, was true for the knights. But it was likely that even those untouched by the macarons would have followed her anyways. “There is no time like the present, and since Ladybug is nowhere to be found, we’ll take Chat Noir first and then go bug hunting after!” 

The crowd of knights let out a resounding cheer, ready to serve their Princess. She smiled down at the sea of supporters, and felt a sense of relief. Everything was going to be okay. She would be able to pull this off. No one was going to get in the way of her justice. 

The only warning signs before the attack was the sound of soft footfall on the school roof behind her. Princess Justice barely had time to process as she ungracefully leapt out of the way. A red flash whirred by her before the shape retreated back towards the roof. She would recognize that sound anywhere. 

It was her yoyo. 

Someone had donned her old earrings. 

“Ladybug?”

-----------

taglist:  @fandom-trapped-03 , @justafanwarrior , @ultimatetornshipper , @lunadensmidnightprowl​ , @starpony999​ , @minth0l-illness , @the-bollywood-miraculous-girl​ , @akioshiwarrior​ ,  @queencommonsense ,  @id-dance-with-draco ,  @all-mights-asscheeks , 

Author’s note: so this will probably be the last chapter for a few days (i have exams until the 16th so ~fun~). But! There will hopefully be some artwork and doodles that i can post between now and the next chapter. 

Thank you for the support on this story so far! I’m glad everyone seems to be enjoying it and I’m excited to keep working on it! 

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Ch 5

Faking It Masterlist

Aelin groaned upon realizing that the last chocolate chip cookie was gone. She glanced towards the stovetop where another empty tray sat. 

"Lys," she yelled, "what happened to all the cookies?"

Her best friend emerged from the bathroom with a wide grin on her face. "I think you ate them all."

Aelin laughed and slumped into the chair nearest from her, suddenly feeling the tightness in her chest back in full force. "I guess so."

Lysandra's smile faded slightly as she took in Aelin's tone. "What's on your mind?" She asked softly, pulling up a chair.

Aelin took a moment to think back on all that had happened. In all honesty, things had not been good. Rowan had pointedly ignored her after their hallway confrontation, to the point where Aelin hadn't even bothered merging their friend groups for lunch like planned. Instead, both of them just chose to pretend the other didn't exist. She texted Rowan last night to confirm that he was still picking her up for Dorian’s party tonight. All she’d gotten in response was that dumb thumbs up emoji he always used. The only other person she knew who used that emoji was Aedion’s literal fucking grandfather. 

Aelin swallowed slowly and loosed a breath of air. "He still thinks I cheated on him."

Lysandra bit out a harsh and humorous laugh. “Of course he does. You told him that.” 

Aelin flinched, surprised by her friend’s harsh tone. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

Lysandra sighed. “I am,” she paused to think about her next words. “I am Aelin. But you told Rowan you cheated on him and then never bothered to tell him the real truth. If you want him to forgive you, than just tell him what really happened.” 

Aelin willed herself not to cry. She’d done enough crying over Rowan Whitethorn to last her a lifetime. “I can’t tell him.” 

Lys just shook her head in exasperation. “You can Aelin. You’re just too scared of what might happen.” 

Lysandra was absolutely right, but Aelin would never admit it. Ever since her parent’s death, she’d spent the following years in a constant state of fear. Over time, she had just gotten better at hiding it. 

“Come on,” Lys said, sensing the shift in Aelin’s body-language. “Let’s go get ready for the party.”

They got dressed quickly, Aelin doing Lysandra’s makeup and vice versa. She took a moment to examine herself in the mirror. She looked hot, even if she didn't really feel it. Her black mini skirt was unnecessarily short, to the point where one wrong move would have her ass falling out, and the red tank she’d pared it with left little to the imagination. Her lips were painted light red and silver eyeshadow had been brushed across her eyelids.

She fiddled with her hair before finally settling on just leaving it down. She couldn't find a hair elastic anyways. Aelin plopped down on her bed to watch Lysandra pick a pair of shoes. Aelin was wearing doc Martens - but when wasn't she - and couldn't really care less about Lysandra’s shoe choice. 

“How about these?” Her friend asked, showing Aelin a pair that looked identical to the previous four. 

“Sure.” Aelin nodded, and picked up her phone to scroll mindlessly through instagram. There was nothing of interest, so Aelin searched up Rowan’s name for the first time since their breakup. 

Her phone slipped through her fingers at the same second Aelin took in his most recently post. She scrambled for the phone, picking it back up to stare at the post.

It was her. 

She was in sweats and his hoodie, her hair up in a messy bun. She was rolling out the dough to make sugar cookies, using all different shaped cutters. Rowan must have taken the photo without her noticing, which is why she wasn't smiling at him. There was no caption, and the comments were off. 

May 5th, 2019.  

The date was the only thing under the picture, but it was enough that Aelin had to crane her neck to check in the mirror that the tears in her eyes hadn't smeared her makeup. 

Two days after that photo was taken, on May 7th, Rowan had fucked everything up. At least, she liked to pretend that he was the one who screwed up. It made not hating herself a little bit easier. 

Her phone buzzed and she looked back down at it. Aelin read the words and sighed, preparing herself for this dreadful evening. 

“He’s here.” Aelin said, climbing off the bed. 

“Fuck I don't have any shoes yet.” Lys squealed. 

Aelin laughed and gestured at the piles of heels and platforms of every colour. Sighing, Lysandra grabbed the one closest to her and threw it on. They walked down the stairs, Lys nearly tripping, and opened the door. 

Rowan’s black car was pulled up in front of her house. He was sitting in the passenger seat, glaring at the front lawn like he could still see their breakup taking place. Aelin walked down the porch steps and cleared her throat as she neared the car. 

Rowan tore his eyes from the grass lawn to look at her. He didn't show any reaction to her appearance, merely nodded. Lysandra snorted softly behind her, and Aelin elbowed her friend subtly. 

Rowan was in the passenger seat, which meant that considering Fenrys didn't have his licence, Lorcan must be driving. Aelin internally groaned at the thought of being in a confined space with the always brooding teenager. 

Unable to avoid it, she backed away slightly so that Lysandra could climb in first to put separation between Aelin and Fenrys. 

Fen, unfortunately, noticed and offered Aelin a pitiful smile across the seats. It was at that moment, that Aelin realized for the first time, that she missed Fenrys Moonbeam. When she’d been with Rowan, her and Fen had been nearly inseparable. He constantly made her laugh, engaging in whatever trouble making scheme she asked of him. 

She’d gone to see him actually. Right after Rowan and her had fought on the lawn, she’d gotten in Aedion’s car. Her body was shaking with the weight of her sobs, to the point where she was barely able to see. For a reason she couldn't even figure out now, she’d driven to Fenrys’ house. 

Aelin had gotten out of her cousin’s truck and made it all of three steps before she’d vomited all over Fenrys’ porch. He’d come out of the house then, but the normal playful look on his face was wiped clean. In it’s place, was nothing but hatred and disdain. 

He’d picked her up and driven her home. When he thought she was passed out, he’d kissed her on the forehead and mumbled he was sorry. 

As Aelin noted the slight tic in Fenrys’ jaw, she finally understood what he'd meant by those two words. 

Fenrys’ wasn't sorry about something that he’d done. He was sorry because he knew what she’d done. And why. 

Aelin supposed she should've known that Fenrys would've figured it out first. He wasn't clouded by blind love or hatred like Lorcan and Rowan. His view of her allowed him to think clearly. Work through the logic of it. 

She’d pull him aside later at the party. For now though, she just smiled back and slammed her head against the back of the seat. Fenrys turned away from her to stare out the window, and Aelin felt like she could finally breathe again.

“So,” Lysandra began hesitantly,  “Are we going to talk about this?” 

Aelin’s head whirled in Lysandra’s direction, her eyebrows shooting halfway up her forehead. 

“No.” Rowan answered bluntly, saving Aelin from speaking. 

“Why not?” Fenrys whined before Lorcan turned his head to shoot him a glare. 

Aelin watched Rowan’s knuckles go white from his grip on the door handle “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Lorcan made a sound that was some sort of cross between a laugh and a grunt. “Sure there is. You two,” he waved his finger between Aelin and Rowan, “are back together.” 

“We’re - “ Rowan began, but Aelin cut him off. 

“We’re not actually together. It's just an agreement that works for both of us.” 

Fenrys let out a long suffering sigh. “Yes Galathynius, we are all aware.” 

Aelin flinched at the venom in his tone when he used her last name. She adjusted herself in the seat and cracked the joints in her fingers. Tonight was not a good night for her anxiety. 

“How do you plan on getting Rowan on the football team?” Lorcan asked, always the skeptic. 

“Cairn.” Aelin told him, her toes curling and uncurling inside her shoes. Moving parts of her body helped to relieve the pent up tension swirling in her gut. 

“Cairn doesn't do favours for anyone.” Fenrys replied, sounding slightly dejected. “If that's your plan, it won't work.” 

“I’m not just going to ask him for a favour.” Aelin snapped back, upset at their lack of faith in her. “I’m going to offer him a deal.” 

“You and your deals Galathynius.” Lorcan mused under his breath. 

Aelin made the smart decision not to reply, and the rest of the drive was completed in silence. 

------------------------

She looked good tonight. Rowan wasn't stupid enough to deny that glaringly obvious fact. They’d walked into the party side by side, earning a few shocked glances from fellow classmates. Aelin had offered him a smile, one which he didn't return, and went off to get them both drinks. 

She’d been gone for all of three minutes, and Rowan was already incredibly uncomfortable. This was Dorian Havillard’s party after all. Rowan and Chaol were high-school’s definition of mortal enemies. So, by association, he and Dorian were enemies as well. 

The dark haired and blue eyed heartthrob hadn't ever been explicitly rude to Rowan, but he still got the feeling he wasn't totally welcome. Fenrys had gone after Aelin, mumbling some lie about not trusting her with his drink order. On another day, Rowan might've gone after them to eavesdrop. But not tonight. 

Instead, he just slumped against a wall and glared at every human in the room. Music was blaring across the speakers, so loudly that he could feel the vibrations in his lower stomach. People all around were swaying awkwardly or chatting against the wall with plastic red cups in hand. 

Rowan looked around for familiar faces, more specifically Vaughn or Gavriel, but found neither. For a brief second, he wished he was better at making friends. 

“You look miserable.” 

Rowan almost sighed in relief at the sound of Lorcan’s low and rough voice. His friend held out a cup of some sort of alcohol, but Rowan shook his head. 

“Aelin’s bringing me a drink.” 

Lorcan let out a breath through his nose. “I wouldn't count on it. I saw her and Fenrys heading up to the bedrooms.”

Rowan’s heart stopped dead in his chest for a moment as he processed Lorcan’s words. The loud music became nothing more than a subtle roar in his head. 

“Fenrys and Aelin?” He managed to stammer. 

Lorcan, realizing his mistake, swore under his breath. “Not like that, holy shit. Just to talk.” Lorcan paused. “Fenrys would never do that.” 

Slowly, Rowan’s body began to function normally again and he managed to take a deep breath. His hands were shaking, so he took the solo cup from Lorcan in an attempt to calm them. 

“Talk about what?” Rowan finally asked. 

Lorcan shrugged. “I don't fucking know.”  

“Whatever man. This party is shit.” Rowan took a long sip of the liquid in his cup and nearly spit it out immediately. It was some mixture of coke and beer that tasted like pure vomit. 

Lorcan laughed at the expression of disgust on Rowan’s face. “Yeah it’s pretty bad. The brunette making it was hot so I couldn't really say much.” 

Rowan involuntarily laughed at his friend’s antics. “You always were a sucker for brunettes.” 

Lorcan’s jaw fell open in shock. “I don't have a preference.” 

“Sure man. Whatever you want to tell people.” Rowan finally spotted Dorian across the room and his heart rate began to accelerate once again. “Kaltain, Nesryn, Maeve, Nehemia, Sar -”

“Okay okay,” Lorcan conceded, cutting Rowan off. “Don't pretend you don't prefer blondes.” 

“I do prefer blondes.” Rowan’s eyes trailed from Dorian to the figure beside him. Chaol. “I would never hide that fact.” 

Lorcan held up his cup in a mock cheers. “At least we’ll never fight over women.” 

Rowan clinked their plastic cups together, happy for any excuse to celebrate something. Even if that something was that Lorcan Salvaterre had a thing for brown hair. 

At long last, Chaol spotted him from across the room. His brows furrowed and he whispered something in Dorian’s ear, who then turned to look at Rowan. As the two friends continued to discuss Rowan right in front of him, Aelin Galathynius chose that moment to reappear. 

---------

They were in Dorian Havillard’s bedroom. A place that Aelin was uncomfortably familiar with. She’d lost count of the hours she’d spent on Dorian’s bed, on the phone with Lysandra, as Chaol and Dorian played video games. 

Now, her legs were cross as she sat against his headboard, Fenrys Moonbeam on her left. 

“What do you want to talk about Aelin?” Fenrys asked, clearly anxious to return to his party. 

Aelin figured there was no point to dancing around the truth. “You know.” 

He stiffened, but let out a relaxed sigh all the same. “What do I know.” 

“You know the real reason behind what happened last year. I never told you, but you somehow know.” 

Fenrys, it appeared, also didn't see the purpose in faking dumb. “It wasn't that difficult to figure it out Ace.” 

Her heart squeezed at the casual use of the nickname he’d given her. “Rowan and Lorcan couldn't do it.” 

“Lorcan hates you and Rowan’s heart was shattered. Emotions can hold you back if you’re not careful.” 

She elbowed him playful, and internally rejoiced when he smiled. “When’d you become so all knowing?” 

“Probably around the same time you had a huge growth spurt. You’re a fucking giraffe now Aelin.” Fenrys’ tone was light and joking and a familiar hint of laughter was present. 

“Five Seven,” she announced proudly, “and still growing.” 

“Maybe Rowan was slipping some anti-growth potion in your drinks.” Fenrys joked. 

Aelin chose to laugh, rather than dwell too much on Rowan. “That’s why water at his house always tasted off.” 

Fenrys eyes widened and he turned to look at her. “It does doesn't it.” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 

Aelin laughed, a real laugh, and smiled broadly at Fenrys. For a moment, there was a tension filled pause, and then Fenrys spoke again. 

“I get why you did it Aelin, truly I do. But don't you think he deserves to know the truth.” Fenrys’ eyes were full of pity, and Aelin had to turn away. 

“It won't make a difference?” Aelin shot back. 

Fenrys gave her an incredulous look. “Aelin you were scared. Your parents died and it fucked with your head. Rowan told you that he loved you, and you got scared.” 

Aelin’s heart was racing, but she finished the story anyway. “I panicked. Thought that if I let myself love him, he’d hurt me just like my parents did. So instead, I hurt him first.” 

Fenrys picks it back up again. “You told him you cheated on him, because you knew that was the only way he’d stay away.” 

“Then I went back to Chaol because it was safe. Because I didn't love him enough for him to hurt me.” 

Aelin felt like she was floating above her own body. She could do nothing but watch as the biggest secret in her life was exposed to Rowan’s best friend. 

“Why didn't you tell him?” She managed to say through her own terror. 

Her lips felt raw, and she realized with a start that she had been chewing on them with reckless abandon. A shiver ran down her spine and grit her teeth in an attempt to hide her discomfort. 

“It wasn't my secret to tell.” A lock of Fenrys’ golden hair had come undone from his ponytail, and Aelin had to fight the urge to tuck it back. Aelin sometimes found herself jealous of just how pretty Fen was, if that made any sense. 

Rowan and Lorcan were the type of heavily built males with hardened features and miles of muscles. Fenrys was prettier, with attributes so perfect that it hurt to look at him. Now though, it hurt to look at him for an entirely different reason. She felt exposed, like the barrier she’d crafted for herself was crumbling down. All her insecurities were on display for Fenrys to see, and Aelin fought the urge to flee the room. 

Luckily, Fenrys made the decision for her. “Ill give you a moment. Meet me downstairs?” 

The last part was a question, but Aelin couldn't bring herself to show any response besides a subtle nod. 

He seemed to deem that answer enough, and left the room to rejoin the party. Aelin suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion take over her body. She lay back on the pillows, not bothering to climb under the duvet. With her baggage weighing her down, Aelin fell promptly asleep. 

-----

TOG Tag List

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[scarletwinterxx]

Timeless pt. 3 - Doyoung AU

First, I apologize for the long wait. I’ve been busy this past week, been meaning to write more but I just couldn’t fit in my schedule. Thank you for waiting and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!! xx -A

For my other work you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART TWO.5 || PART THREE || PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX || FINALE

“I should not be here”

This time instead of saying it in my mind, I uttered the words outloud, Not that the person I was saying it to was even listening

“Joy, can you even hear me? Gosh I feel like my ears are about to pop” I said as I shake my head, the bass from the speakers feel like it was right next to my ears

Why did I agree to go out tonight with Joy was a wonder to me, I could be at home right now catching up on some sleep I’ve been deprived of for so long. 

“Just drink, here” she didn’t even hear my previous question so she just handed me a shot glass. Gesturing for me to take it, I rolled my eyes at her before throwing my head back and downing the shot at once

“That’s my girl! Look we have like two more days before graduation then we’re done with school. Forever! If that does not make you want to party then I don’t know what will” she said, already asking the bartender for another round of shots

“Can we celebrate two days from now?” I asked, but again she just handed me another glass. One turned into two which then turned into three until I lost count.

“We deserve this, you need this. Just don’t think about anything else for now okay?” that was all it took for Joy to finally convince to just let go, even just for tonight. And she is right, I needed this.  

By the end of the night we were both a giggling mess, I don’t even remember what we’re laughing about. 

“Yah Soo Young-ah, how will we go home?” I asked with a pout, I was pretty out of it but I guess my common sense was still working

“Call your fiance, ooooh yes let’s do that. You haven’t seen him since your date”

“It wasn’t a date” I mumbled, slumping on my seat then taking my phone from my purse. 

She was right, I haven’t seen Doyoung since our little trip and that was a couple of weeks ago. He’s been busy at work and it was hectic for me too. I was swarmed with requirements, projects, exams and papers I needed to finish in order to finally graduate. It’s a wonder how I survived all of that with little to no sleep at all. 

With my clumsy hands, I searched for Doyoung’s name on my phone before pressing the call button. 

It was pretty late, around 1am. I didn’t expect him to answer but a big part of me was hoping he will. 

“Y/N?” I hear his voice from the other side of the call, he didn’t sound like he just woke up. It really wouldn’t surprise me if he was still up and working. 

“Doie!! You answered” I happily replied, it was obvious it was the alcohol talking

“It’s 1am, are you out? I can hear music” I could barely hear him too so I decided to stand up from the bar and walk outside

“I’m out with Joy, I was suppose to be take us home but I don’t even remember where we are”  I let out a giggle when I finished talking, definitely drunk at this point

For awhile I didn’t hear anything from him, I thought he hung up the phone

“Okay, can you just stay there until I figure out where you are?”

“Oooh you’re coming?” I asked, a wide smile now on my face

“If you tell me where you are, are you outside right now?” he asked back

“Yes”

“What do you see, any street sign?

“Uhhh wait I see a convenient store across the street” I hear a sigh from the other side of the line

“Y/N, there are convenient stores everywhere. Is there anything else?”

“We took a cab from Joy’s place, she said something about uh... near the fire restaurant” I said trying to remember what Joy said but my mind was too hazy

“Fire restaurant? You mean Ember?” Doyoung asked, it was like a light bulb turned on in my head

“Ah! Yea that one!” I said while laughing, atleast one of us found it funny

“Okay, I know where that is. Please stay there and stay safe. I’ll call you when I get there”

“Okay”

After the call I went back inside to find Joy leaning her head on the table, she looked like she’s about to pass out

“Ya, wake up. What are you doing?” I told her, giving her a poke on the side

“I just want to sleep. Leave me alone” Joy said then swatted her hand away, she then shot right up making me jump back

“Okay, let’s have another drink. For you and your wedding”

“My wedding?”

“Yes, your wedding. Cheers” we downed yet another shot, knowing full well this will not end great for the both of us. We’ll definitely feel like hell tomorrow. 

After a couple more drinks, the both of us were definitely out of it. If anyone asks me for my name I probably would take a while to remember it. 

“I’m getting married?” I asked her, she just looked at me like I was asking such a stupid question

“Oh my god! You forgot? Look at your finger, Y/N”

When I raised my hand I see a diamond ring on my finger, just like Joy said

“Wow, this is pretty”

“My bestfriend’s going to get married” Joy cheered loudly

“Wait wait wait, who am I going to get married to?” I asked her,

“Him” she said, jutting her chin at something behind me

“Huh?”

“That one, that angry looking guy walking towards us. I think. I’m not sure”

“Where?” Just as I turn around to see who she was referring, a tall person blocked my view

“Excuse me, I’m trying to see the angry guy”

“Y/N” I hear Joy say from behind me

“What? I’m trying to see who I’m getting married to. Excuse me, mister can you move” I said then moved my head to the side

“Y/N” this time it was the guy who was standing infront of me calling out my name, making me look up at him

“Oh! I know you!”

“Yah Y/N, that’s the guy! You’re getting married to him!” Joy not so subtly whispered to me, the guy infront of us looking between us

“Him? No way! I know him, I know you. Don’t I?” I said pointing back and forth between Joy and the guy infront of me

“I know you from somewhere, wait let me think. Hey! That’s my bag” The guy sling my bag on his shoulder then took a hold of my arm then Joy’s

“Everything alright here?” The lady bartender asked

“Yes, she’s my fiance. Has everything been paid for?” The guy answered before either of us could speak

The lady bartender shot him a look before turning to me, “You know him?”

“Me? Uh-” “Yes she knows him, look look this is their engagement ring. Pretty isn’t it” Joy interrupted me by bringing my hand up to show off the ring on my finger

“Look here, is this proof enough? She’s safe with me, she called me to come and get her” The guy showed something from his phone, the lady bartender then only nodded in our direction before going back to her work

“You two, let’s go” the guy said then guided the two of us out the bar and into his car

Joy got dropped off first then it was just me and him. I didn’t feel worried or alarmed that I’m literally drunk out of my wits and here I am with a guy whose identity I can’t remember. There was just this sense of comfort and security about him I can’t explain. 

“You alright there?” the guy asked, I know that voice. My drunk mind just can’t seem to pinpoint who he is. 

Then it clicked. 

What happened these past weeks, why I was out drinking, why I haven’t talked to Doyoung in those weeks and why this guys seemed so familiar. 

I turned my head to look at him, his gaze focused on the road. 

“Y/N?” Doyoung called out my name, it sounded so gentle as if he was trying not to scare me away

“You came” I told him, I wasn’t sure if he even heard me 

“You’re the one who called me”

“I just wasn’t sure if you were really going to come” I sounded like a kid who wasn’t expecting their parent to come to their recital

“You’re the one whose been avoiding me these past few weeks, I don’t even know why”

“Only because you’ve been mean to me” I mumbled, I can see him give me a quick look

“How exactly have I been mean to you? You’re the one who hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. I even went to your apartment but you weren’t there, or you just didn’t open the door”

Maybe it’s the combination of the alcohol and weeks worth of stress because the next thing I know I was bawling my eyes out. Like legit crying and wailing. 

“You... I.... I heard you say you... do you hate me?” I said in between hiccups, in the end I just couldn’t even complete the question

“Where did you even get that?”

“You! You’re the one who said you hated me! I heard you say it in your office when you were talking to Sejeong” 

I didn’t hear Doyoung say anything for a while and I was too out of it to think more, so I just sat there crying my emotions out while he drives. 

After a few more minutes, Doyoung pulled up in a building and parked his car. Quickly running to my side to help me out. 

“i can do it on my own” I mumbled but just as I step one foot on the ground the other one didn’t feel like cooperating so I stumbled a bit. If it wasn’t for Doyoung’s arm that was out and ready to catch me if I fall, I would’ve face-planted in the floor

“Clearly not, atleast let me help you” He said as he pull my arm to him to help me walk a little safer

“No, you hate me. You said that”

“Y/N-ah” he said looking down at me, like a kid who was being told off I felt like crying again. So I did.

I hear him sigh, resting a hand on his car while the other one holds me steady

“Just go, if you don’t want to be here” I whispered but instead of letting me go he just pulled me to him and lead me inside the elevator up to my apartment

“I can’t leave you when you’re like this and I would appreciate it if you stop putting words in my mouth”

I didn’t say anything after that, the fatigue and everything else catching up to me. I was just about ready to pass out right then and there. I don’t know if I would even remember half of the conversation we’re having right now. 

When we got to my place, Doyoung opened the door for us. Helping me sit on the couch before walking somewhere. I hear him opening some cabinets from the other room before returning with a glass of water

“Drink all of this so you won’t feel as bad tomorrow, I’ll go see if you have some medicine just in case” He said then walked away again before I could say anything

After finishing my glass of water, I decided to walk to my room as I was feeling really sleepy. When I got it my room, I shook my coat of and jumped on the bed already half asleep. I head Doyoung enter the room but I didn’t open my eyes, too tired from everything that happened today.

I feel him lift up the blanket to tuck me under it, making sure I was comfortable. When I can feel my self dozing of I feel a wet thing touch my face, then the familiar smell of my make up remover invaded my sense of smell.  Sometime during that I passed out.

By the time morning came, my head hurt so much I couldn’t be bothered to think how I got home. I assumed Joy got us an uber or something. The curtain was only halfway drawn so there some light entering the room, it hurt my eyes and my brain feels like it’s just about to explode. Just as I was about to fall back to sleep I hear something from outside somewhere in my apartment. I don’t live with anyone else, who would be here this early in the day?

I stood up and walked out of my room, the sight that welcomed me was a shock. It was Doyoung standing in the middle of my kitchen, cooking something with my bright yellow apron on him.

“Doyoung?” I croaked out making him turn to where I was currently standing

“You’re awake, go sit I’m almost done” he said then turned his attention back on the stove

“Uh why and how are you here? In my apartment” 

“You don’t remember?”

“What? Did I do something stupid? say something stupid?” I said getting alarmed by what happened the previous night

“Something like that, we can talk about it after you eat and take a medicine for that headache” he answered me, walking to the counter and putting a bowl of what looks like hangover soup infront of me. 

I said a low thank you before taking the spoon and eat the soup he prepared. I hear him walk down the hallway before returning to my side and taking a seat beside me. “Medicine for you” he said void of any emotion. 

I must have said or done something. Everything about this situation seemed off, I can just tell, he didn’t sound mad but it’s like he’s also holding himself back from saying something. 

We spent the rest of mealtime in peace, while putting away the dished we used I could just feel Doyoung’s stare from behind. Wiping my hand on the towel, I turned to face him and sure enough he was leaning with his back on the counter, arms crossed and an intense stare on his face

“Okay, go. Lay it all on me. What did I do?” I said, there was no use beating around the bush

“Remember your 20th birthday?” Doyoung asked me, but before I could give him an answer he was speaking again

“You went out with Joy that time, you had one too many bottles of soju. Joy had to call me to come and pick you up. You were so out of it, you probably don’t remember anything from that night”

And he’s right, up to this day I don’t know what I said that night. Joy keeps on making jokes about it but there’s also something she’s not telling me about that day. 

“You wouldn’t let go of my arm, you were just clinging onto me. Every time we tried to make you seat at the backseat you would start crying, Joy had to drive the car back to your place. The whole ride you were just holding onto me” 

My cheeks were flaming from the embarrassment. I don’t remember ever doing that. I feel horrified just thinking about it. 

“I helped you sit on the couch, went and got you a glass of water but when I came back you were passed out on the couch. You looked so peaceful that time”

“Joy told me why you were out drinking, said something about you being broken hearted and all that. You needed that break, I don’t know if you heard her but suddenly you woke up and pulled on my hand, looked me dead in the eye and said ‘I’m sad’. I asked why and all you said was ‘because you love her’. At first I didn’t get what you were saying, turning to Joy to ask what you were talking about”

“You heard us didn’t you?” he asked me

“Huh?”

“At my office, you were there. You heard us” he told me, I couldn’t even look up to him but I could feel his gaze on me

THREE WEEKS AGO

After the little get away trip with Doyoung, I felt more at ease. Even when I have tons of work to do before graduation, that one day trip was enough relaxation time for us.

It so happens that I don’t have any class today so I decided to drop by his office, it wasn’t that far of a drive from where I live and it was around lunch time. I should’ve called first and checked with him but I wanted it to be a surprise.

Turns out I was the one going to be surprised when I get there.

When I got to their building, I made my way to the elevator and up to the floor where Doyoung’s office was. I’ve only been here a couple of times, my dad always took me with him whenever he had some business to take care of.

“Hi, is Doyoung in?” I asked his secretary, pointing to his office

“Mr. Kim? Yes, he’s currently in his office” I blushed a bit when she said Mr. Kim, I almost forgot that this is the life that Doyoung lives whenever he’s in the office. Not as Doyoung but as Mr. Kim.

“Oh okay, is he busy or in a meeting?”

“No ma’am, you can wait here. I’ll go ahead and phone you in, he’s talking to someone right now” she told me with a smile, I also managed to catch her eyes wandering on my finger.

“Thank you” I quickly returned with a smile before taking a seat nearby “Excuse me, may I ask where the comfort room is?”

“It’s pass that door straight in that hallway, the door on your right” I mumbled a quick thank you before walking towards the direction she just said. The hallway just happen to be near where Doyoung’s office was, with his door bit ajar I could overhear the conversation going on as I pass by.

I wasn’t going to listen. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but then I heard my name being mentioned

“When you said Y/N was just a friend, that was never the case was it?” I hear a female voice asked

It was clear enough that whoever and whatever they were talking about in there, it was more personal rather than business.

“She is my friend, we’ve known each other for so long” I hear Doyoung say

“But even when we were together, she was always in the middle. Like we knew it was inevitable. Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Of the engagement, Doyoung!”

“No I didn’t! Neither did she. If I had a choice do you think this is how I would have wanted to tell you? It was beyond my control” Doyoung exclaimed, he didn’t sound mad. He just sounded frustrated.

“That hurt, it hurt so much when I heard about the engagement. It even hurt more when I learned about it while I was scrolling through the morning news. When I called you, I was hoping you’d say it’s just another one of those things they made up”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way”

“If she wasn’t your friend, would you have said yes?”

“I don’t know the answer to that”

“It’s a simple question” I didn’t stay to hear what his answer would be, I don’t think I could handle it so I just left.

“I didn’t mean to”

“I don’t hate you, I never said I hated you. I never did and I never will. This situation we’re in? yes I hate it because I don’t want this to be the reason for you to be mad at me” at this I looked up at him, slightly taken aback by what he just said

“I take it as you didn’t hear what I told her since you’ve been ignoring me since that day” he told me, I can’t say no because he was right

“I don’t think I could handle to hear whatever your answer was” I mumbled

“If I had a choice... I would have asked her to marry me but on my terms. Not like this. That’s what I said ” I looked up at him to see if he was joking or not, but I was just making myself more anxious. 

This is Doyoung, he would never joke about things like this.    

“You’re the only person that would hear me even when I’m not speaking, you don’t push me to do things I don’t want to. You’re on my side not because you need something from me. To you, I’m this guy that always persuaded to switch lunch meals with you but I only did that because I knew you didn’t like yours. To you, I’m that person you feel safe with. You would always hold on to the end of my shirt and curl your fingers around it whenever we’re in a crowded place or you feel anxious.”

He took a pause, walking a bit closer to me making me shuffle backwards until my back hit the counter, 

“But next time.. next time when you feel anxious or it feels like you need a safe space just hold my hand. I’ll be there”

“Doyoung”

“I’m sorry you were sad again because of me. And because of Sejeong, too. But please never say that I hate you, Okay?”

He put a hand under my chin to lift it up, now we’re looking at each other

“I meant it when I said I’m glad you’re the one I’m marrying, I hope you are too” he took my hand and lift it up to his lips, laying a gentle peck just where my ring was. 

“Next time something like this bothers you, just talk to me okay? Please don’t shut me out, I understand if you need some time for yourself but know that I’m here to listen” Doyoung told with nothing but sincerity in his eyes

“Did I say something so stupid last night?” I asked, this made him laugh out loud before pulling me in for a tight hug. Tucking me under his chin, my head on the crook of his neck. 

“Yes, lots of times actually. You really said I hated you, silly girl” I feel him pat me on the head before resting it on my back

“From now on, let’s stay together like this okay?” He whispered, his hand running up and down my back in a comforting manner. 

I wanted nothing more than to stay like this with him for the rest of the time. All the worries I had these past weeks now washed away. 

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (04)

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre/warning: fluff, angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: poor attempts at humour (as usual) mentions of blood/wounds, a little bit of action, even more pining—would this be considered slowburn now? hm... unless? word count: 7,574

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                          FOUR.

Suffocating tension hangs in the air like a thick fog and Jungkook mentally curses the chambermaid for her feebleness, revealing something she should not have. He knows the situation is dire and stakes are high, therefore it’s quite easy to have a slip of the tongue. But she still should have known better.

He regards the three men with compelling confidence, hoping they do not see right through his façade. One of the men leans forward and murmurs something to the other. The eldest of them throttle closer to him and Jungkook straightens his back and pulls on his horse’s rein to guide him closer towards the stranger.

“Your Majesty?” Finally comes the bandit’s hoarse voice, eyes flickering at the carriage behind Jungkook with interest.

Jungkook tries not to make it obvious he’s reaching for the sword strapped around his waist as he shrugs at the man with feigned disinterest. He did not want to incite a fight that he knows will put you in danger. Yet his hand couldn’t help but hover subtly over the handle of his trusted weapon.

“Shouldn’t we all treat our wives like royalty they deserve to be?” Jungkook states slowly, making sure to get his point across despite feeling squeamish over his choice of words. In his mind, it sounded way more chivalrous than when he’d uttered them. Hearing it echo out of his mouth feels silly and inept.

Apparently, it sounds as ridiculous to the strangers as it did to Jungkook because they look at each other with brows knitted in confusion. The two younger men snicker to themselves, meanwhile, the one Jungkook’s talking to merely rolls his eyes.

“We aren’t too far from the palace, so it may be an actual royalty riding in that carriage.” He mocks, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the deep scar running on the right side of his cheek. He deduces he could be the leader since the other two listen intently and nod along to his statement.

“The question is…” the leader trails off, eyeing Jungkook with a newfound interest. “Why would a member of the royal family ride along on this particular path, and with seemingly just one palace guard? That is what you are, no?”

The bandit regards Jungkook, but he doesn’t flinch, fighting hard not to give anything away. He made sure to pick clothes that didn’t stand out too well, for all intents and purposes. Therefore, he donned garments usually worn by merchants — light sapphire outer coat with navy blue pants — yet they’ve managed to figure him out, much to Jungkook’s dismay

Jungkook is slightly appalled that they’d assess him as a mere palace guard—no offence to his dear friend Mingyu — he did not come all this way to be belittled in spite of his accomplishments. Then something in Jungkook’s mind clicks. And if one listens closely enough, they’ll hear rusty gears slowly churning, the crevices of his mind being put to good use. If they don’t know I’m a general, then that must mean…

“I’m sure you’re all very fine gentlemen.” He begins once more, a pretence of calmness intertwining between the cadence in his voice despite his stomach twisting into several knots. “So, I would appreciate it if you’d let us pass through—”

“Does this man think we’re idiots, San?” The man with a scar on his cheek cuts Jungkook off, an apparent smirk forming on his lips. He glances at the young boy beside him, who Jungkook believes is not old enough to be running around with men who are up to no good.

“I think he does, m’lord,” the young boy nods and by this time Jungkook’s grip is firm around the handle of his sword.

“Lord…?” Jungkook’s brow furrowed in confusion, eyeing the man with the scar. “May I ask whose bannermen you all are?”

It’s possible for them to not know the great families of Sejo if they are truly outsiders. He is sure they’re not his family’s bannermen, of course, as he prides himself in being well-informed when it comes to putting faces into names. So, that rules his family out; he doubts his father will do something as scandalous as to send people to possibly assassinate the princess – he sees no reason for him to do so.

The Kim family, on the other hand, rarely let their men wander without carrying a banner that showed their sigil. He’s sure the Knight of the Flowers – as he recalls you’ve oh-so-fondly referred to the current head of the Kim family – has a lot on his plate after inheriting his father’s title.

Surely it can’t be your own family. The king will let his general know if he planned on having his men follow him. But it didn’t make sense because they came from the opposite direction; he doubts they’re the royalty’s bannermen.

Perhaps it’s the Yoon’s; their recent seclusion and the fact that they barely provided aid and garrison during the previous war makes Jungkook think they could be behind this mess. The Yi’s of Naath, despite being a recently assimilated part of Sejo, will not dare defy the crown and send men after the royal princess whether they knew of the king’s plans or not.

“Aren’t you a little too curious for a mere merchant – or so you claim? Your clothes may conceal your true identity but the weapons you carry betray your theatrics.” The man smirks in a way that contorts his scar, making him seem more intimidating. “Surely, you are aware mercenaries can’t be bannermen.”

Hearing him admit he’s a mercenary alarm Jungkook because it means they didn’t run into these three men by accident. Someone possibly paid them to be here. He combs his brain, attempting to name those who know about the plan and comes up with a very concise list. Since the king wanted the meeting of the two royalty to be kept a secret, there aren’t many who know about the situation and are powerful enough to hire mercenaries.

Jungkook glances at Jimin, who nods towards him with a look of acknowledgement; he’s ready.

He may not know Jimin personally, having formally met him days before they had to depart the castle, but he’s heard from you that Jimin also fought during the war. He was in General Kim’s garrison, so Jungkook doesn’t doubt Jimin’s ability to brandish a sword if it has to come down to that situation.

“I’m cutting to the chase because this is getting extremely tedious, especially for an old man like me.” Scarface — Jungkook thinks the name has a nice ring to it — declares, and as soon as he does, the two young men on either side unsheathe their sword. Jungkook couldn’t help but snort because it seems like a disgrace to classify their needle-of-a-blade amongst those that were forged from the mightiest Sejon steel. But perhaps now is not the right time to be comparing who crafts better weapons.

“We want whoever you’re carrying inside that carriage,” Jungkook is surprised when San speaks up, his meek voice not suiting his wicked intentions.

He inhales slowly before sighing. He puffs his cheeks out in an attempt to look annoyed and confused, hoping to still put up the air of pretence. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I have no patience to stick around. As I said, my wife has to see a physician right away.”

Jungkook recognizes the futility of repeating himself over and over to the men who pose a threat to your safety. But if he stalls further, it could help him figure out who’s behind all of this. He’s learned that impatient people tend to reveal their intentions when they don’t get their way. Or perhaps he just likes how the word my wife rolls seamlessly off the tip of his tongue. The thought of domesticated life with you is enough for the muscles in his cheeks to twitch, pulling his lips into an undeniable grin.

He can’t decide between the two, but he prefers the latter.

“I guess we’ll just have to take her by force,” the man with a scarred cheek sneers before nodding towards Jungkook.

He didn’t have time to assess what’s about to come. But he hears one of the horses neighing loudly before he notices San is racing towards him, his blade pointed out. Jungkook unsheathes his sword just in time to unhand San without injuring him. He loses balance before falling off his horse completely.

The second young man, who’s also around San’s age, comes up at Jungkook much stealthier, catching him completely off guard. The blunt end of the sword scratches the nape of his neck ever so slightly which startles Jungkook, causing him to slash the young man’s torso. The younger recoils back and relinquishes his sword.

Jungkook scoffs as he slips off his horse before walking towards scar-face confidently.

“You consider yourself mercenaries?” He mocks and Scarface’s jaw tightens in response. From the corner of his eye, he observes the two of them scramble to their feet to gather their weapons and Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s been in enough spars and had plenty of experience to know the two are novices, and quite frankly awkward.

To put it simply, he knows they don’t have an inkling on how to properly brandish a damn sword and at least pretend like they know what they are doing.

In a few swift moves, both young men were down on their knees once more, much to Jungkook’s dismay. It brings him no pleasure to trample over enemies—especially those younger than him. He knows what it’s like to witness such cruelty at such a young age.  

“Stay down, kid,” he murmurs to San before patting him once on his shoulder. The younger man grunts menacingly and moves away from his touch.

“You’re not just a mere palace guard, are you?” Scarface says slowly as if he’s still deliberating the certainty of his claim. Jungkook holds his hands up and shrugs. He knows better than to give anything away to the person attempting to kill him.

The mercenary pulls out his longsword and throws it down the ground.

“I think it’s only fair if we fight with our fists. The winner gets the package while the loser receives the privilege of dying.”

“None of this is fair,” Jungkook sneers and eyes the mercenary, who merely shrugs. “And don’t you dare refer to my —”

“Your wife, yes, my apologies, m’lord,” the mercenary mocks and mimes a half-bow. Jungkook sighs defeatedly, placing his sword down near the hooves of his horse.

Not too far away, Jimin is busy ensuring the two young men won’t run away.

Jungkook gets into a sparring stance, his hands clenched into fists and his knees slightly bent. The mercenary mimics his movements and it irks Jungkook to no end, feeling as if he is being parroted for the sake of exaggeration.

He’s in a defensive position, his hands slightly obscuring his face for protection. The mercenary’s right arm flinches so Jungkook’s instinct tells him to dodge left but when he does, he is met with the man’s uppercut which strikes him square in the jaw.

He stumbles back from the sheer force of the blow, but he’s more taken aback by his lack of awareness; in hindsight, he should have seen that one coming. He hears a small gasp from behind him but doesn’t turn to see who it could have been, admittedly terrified that doing so could put him at an even more disadvantage.

Scarface chuckles and Jungkook fights the urge to tackle him down. Focus, Jungkook.

Jungkook notices that the mercenary is off-balance every time he shifts between his feet, seemingly nursing an injured part of his right leg. A possible sign of weakness doesn’t surprise him, and he does his best to maintain the same composure as to not reveal his motives. Beads of sweat roll down the nape of his neck as he waits for a sliver of opening; it doesn’t help that he towers over Jungkook and seems much heavier than him now that he sees him up close.

Scarface loses footing and Jungkook takes the chance to swipe his leg with his right foot before jabbing him square in the stomach. The latter groans, recoiling with his back hunched.

“Why don’t you tell me who you really are, and what you’re doing here?” Jungkook seethes. The mercenary merely chuckles before looking at him, eyes gleaming with amusement despite his disadvantaged state.

“My apologies. The name’s Pyo,” his familiarity and friendliness irk Jungkook. “And I thought I had made my intentions clear over and over, and over again.”

The grin on Pyo’s face morphs into a menacing scowl. That is the only thing Jungkook remembers seeing before feeling a benign coldness creeping from his torso to his chest. It’s only seconds after that he realizes the pooling liquid of blood seeping throughout his thin tunic that he notices a small blade wedged somewhere in his midriff.

Well, that can’t be good.

“General!”

Jungkook hears Jimin’s voice laced with panic, sounding far-reaching and muffled despite only being a few steps away. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, but he makes the effort to stand his ground, refusing to let the scum mercenary think he’s won.

Jimin rushes to catch Jungkook’s teetering body before he hits the ground. It’s clear the mercenary is not threatened by Jimin’s presence at all when he makes no effort to stop him.

“You’re a general? And all this time you made me think of you as a mere palace guard,” Pyo says, fingers skimming over the scar on his cheek thoughtfully before shrugging. “Anyway, they’ll be glad to know I stole the princess from the protection of the general, himself. Perhaps I’ll get double the amount I’m owed.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up at the mention of you. With Jimin propping him up, there is almost nothing stopping Pyo from taking you. Jimin seems to notice this as well and mutters an apology to Jungkook before letting him go and grabbing the nearly forgotten sword on the ground.

Pyo scoffs, unimpressed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a princess to save.”

Before Pyo could turn away from him and Jimin, Jungkook hears the faint whistle of an arrow slicing through the air. He hears a loud grunt and before he could blink up to see what has happened, the mercenary falls on his side with a resounding thud. He watches in confusion as blood sputters out of Pyo’s neck where the arrow has lodged itself deeply into. Truly a gruesome sight that makes his stomach clench, but he can’t bring himself to look away. His head spins frantically, and he could practically taste bile crawling its way up to his throat.

Only when he hears another snapping of the bow that he wakes from his stupor. He doesn’t see where the arrow lands in particular – somewhere in his back perhaps?

He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Where in the heavens did that come from in the first place?

“Your Highness!”

Jimin practically squeals beside him, before sprinting away from Jungkook. He looks up to see you dangerously out in the open. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Yet he couldn’t help as his jaw slackens in awe as you lower the weapon slowly, your eyes locked onto his. Neither you nor he wavers until you collapse on the ground, the crossbow slipping from your grasp. Jimin is quick to react and grasps your shoulders firmly as he kneels beside you.

Jungkook hisses and breathes in through his gritted teeth — it’s just a knife to the torso; I’ve experienced worse.

Miyoung rushes out of the carriage to help Jimin prop you up, knees wobbling and all.

“I’m fine, it’s just…I was nervous about —” you pause, eyeing Jungkook before mustering a foolish grin. “That was the first time I stretched my legs in hours. I’m fine.”

“How did you even manage to obtain a weapon?” Jimin admonishes you in the slightest, though it’s apparent that he’s only worried you could have gotten hurt in the process. You reply with a sheepish smile, but Jungkook is unsure because everybody is moving and spinning in all directions and wait…why the hell are there two princesses?

“I might or might not have gone through your belongings behind the carriage.”

“I tried stopping her from going out but —”

“I hate to break your little chat but…a little help would be nice.”

Jungkook manages to string a few words, attempting to stand up but failing miserably. He ends up landing on his knees before he sees you running up to him, with a dumb worried look painted across your face. Your brows are furrowed together in concentration, cheeks tinted from the heat and mouth agape as if you’re a fish out of water. Your hair is completely dishevelled and out of place, strands swinging wildly in the air.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook allows himself to laugh unprompted; a kind of giggle that bubbles up from the depths of his stomach and blossoms its way up to his chest. His shoulders shake uncontrollably as you place his arms around your shoulder in an attempt to help him up. Jimin rushes to follow you and does the same on his left side.

“I think he’s starting to become delirious. Might be loss of blood.” Jimin mumbles as he grunts before hoisting Jungkook up to his feet, bearing most of his weight so you don’t have to.

Not really, Jungkook thinks to himself. Or maybe he mumbled it out loud — he isn’t certain at this point. It’s just that…her face was so damn hilarious. Running up to me with that expression and all.

“I have ointments and bandages that my mother asked me to pack.”

You rush out of Jungkook’s grasp and Jimin grunts, bearing all of Jungkook’s weight in one swift movement. Miyoung is conflicted and is unsure whether to follow you or to help Jimin out but in the end, you rush back out while carrying the supplies wrapped neatly in white cloth.

“We should probably set him down somewhere,” Jimin announces rather obviously.

“Inside the carriage is an ideal place,” you murmur, and Jungkook nods in a daze. Jimin glances behind him before wrapping Jungkook’s arm around you.

“Here, you take him inside. I’m going to deal with those two out here.”

Jungkook sways in your direction and he has enough decency not to lean all his weight on you. Miyoung holds the door open and Jungkook climbs weakly inside, letting his body fall back into the cushion. There is a brief sense of relief Jungkook feels now he’s certain of yours as well as everyone else’s safety. He slowly sinks within the comfort of the soft chair, allowing himself to focus on something other than the throbbing pain in his waist.

The next few seconds feel like a whirlwind of blurred scenarios, but he remembers being asked to bite down on a thickly rolled cloth. Jungkook finds it odd at first, but he knows it’s not the right time to question the motives of those that are trying to help him.

He attempts to comprehend the need for the bunched-up cloth in his mouth when—

“Augh,” his eyes widened as he groaned, hands clutching the nearest object which happened to your arm.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but at least the worst part is done.” You whisper soothingly before lowering the arrow beside you. Jungkook visibly relaxes as his eyes slowly close but you gently tap him on his cheek to prevent him from doing so. “Probably best if you stay awake.”

Jungkook grunts in response but follows your instructions, making sure to keep his eyes open, even if it’s just halfway. He removes the cloth from his mouth and watches as you quickly disrobe him of his bloody tunic. He’s tempted to say something, his lower lip edging between his teeth.

He ignores the odd looks that Miyoung keeps giving him and focuses on you instead. It’s hard for him to miss the bright red tint of your cheeks as you continue to tend to his wounds. He’s inclined to crack a joke and poke fun at your embarrassed state, but he thinks it’s probably best to keep his mouth shut this time around. You are dressing his injury, after all, and if he acts up god knows how you’ll choose to retaliate.

You unknowingly place a hand on his bare chest as you shift around to apply ointment directly at his wound. He clears his throat as his cheeks heat up from the contact and turns his head away from you, only to be met by Miyoung’s knowing grin.

“Are you feeling feverish, General? Your face is looking as bright as an apple,” she teases, and he makes the briefest eye contact with you before looking elsewhere once again.

“If that’s the case, that’s not good. The wound might be infected.”

The concern laced with your voice makes Jungkook’s chest constrict as if the airways to his lungs had been blocked completely. Is this particular feeling a side effect of the injury as well? He, too, is starting to believe he’s becoming delirious despite knowing the injuries he’s suffered are not dire enough to put him in that state.

“How do you know so much about this, anyway?” Jungkook murmurs, referring to your seemingly vast knowledge of wound treatments and infections.

“I trained with a physician a while back, shortly before the war started. I thought it would be valuable in case my father permitted me to help, even just something small like tending wounds. I was not allowed, of course,” your forehead creases either in concentration or annoyance. Possibly both.

You press a folded linen gently on top of his wound and Jungkook moans in discomfort. He stirs to move his body to a different position, but you press the hand you have on his chest. You quietly instruct Miyoung to wrap gauze over the linen before too much blood seeps into the cloth.

“Well, aren’t I lucky you decided to come along on this exciting journey with me?”

He couldn’t help it. He has to crack a joke, or else he will burst from overheating, courtesy of his rapidly beating heart.

“I’m delighted you’re aware you’d be completely helpless without me,” you grin up at him as Miyoung finishes tying up the bandage around his torso.

“Done! You’re good as new, General Jeon,” Miyoung sighs in relief, and Jungkook grins up at her.

“Stay here and rest. I’ll go and ask Jimin if he brought a mortar and pestle with him so I can prepare medicine for you to drink,” you instruct Jungkook as he struggles to put his tunic back on. He winces in pain as he extends his arm out. “Maybe you shouldn’t move around too much yet.”

“How am I supposed to get dressed, then?” Jungkook whines as he cautiously peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, hoping you’d take the bait.

“Here, give it to me,” you roll your eyes and take Jungkook’s clothes from his grasp.

“Why don’t I go ask Jimin if he has the supplies, instead?” Miyoung takes the medicine from you and grins at Jungkook. She leans in towards you to whisper something Jungkook couldn’t hear and watches with curiosity as your forehead creases, features forming into a scowl. Miyoung hops out of the carriage before you can say anything else.

“What?” you eye him with suspicion.

“What, what? You’re just going to sit there and leave me in this state of undress?” he mimes over his chest and you grumble, motioning for him to come closer.

“You’re full of it sometimes, you know?” you roll your eyes at his theatrics. But it does nothing to deter Jungkook’s foolish attempts at enlightening the mood. You frown and he immediately leans towards you, head bowing forward as a signal for you to continue.

Alright, I get it. I’ll behave.

Jungkook murmurs a small thanks as soon as his head pops out of the collars of his tunic. The crimson hue on your cheeks is unmistakable, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flit from his eyes down to his lips. He catches his lower lip between his teeth for good measure to see how you’d react. He isn’t disappointed in the way you turn your head completely to look at the windows, pretending as if you hadn’t been staring in the first place.

Jungkook blinks.

Is he being delirious, or did he just think you’d wanted to kiss him? Or did he want it to happen?

Probably just the loss of blood. It has to be. He continues to dress in silence, carefully pulling each arm through individual sleeves.

“Maybe I should’ve left you to bleed out and just escaped with Jimin and Miyoung.”

Jungkook chuckles and winces as soon as he does, the pain of his wound is somehow becoming more unbearable every fleeting second.

“You’d want that, wouldn’t you? You’re probably itching to have some alone time with Jimin.”

Jungkook swears to the gods he saw your eyes twinkle for the briefest moment before you break out into a beaming grin as if you’re agreeing with what he’s said. Your response is not at all what he expects, so his brows knit in confusion.

“That’s the first time you addressed him by his first name.”

“Was it that big of a deal?” Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound completely like a pompous prick, but was it that big of a deal? He quickly concludes that the answer to his previous question (which was more of an attempt to torment you, really) is yes, and decides to switch the topic.

“I mean it though. Thank you.”

“I can’t have you dying on me, General Jeon. You still have to deliver me to the Northerners in one piece, right?”

Jungkook is taken aback by the ambivalent tone of your voice accompanied by the solemn smile on your face. In an instant, he’s pulled back to the reality you’re faced with along with the true weight of what this trip entails. His eyes search for any hint of regret in yours; one that will make him turn this whole expedition around if you so much give him the tiniest hesitation.

But all he finds is silent determination, and he has no choice but to respect that. He wants to sympathize with you and the situation you’re under, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to undermine the sacrifice you’ve made. He knows that’s the price you’re willing to offer for the sake of peace.

I hope it’s worth it.

“I hope so, too,” you sigh deeply and Jungkook’s eyes widen. He’s certain he didn’t state the phrase out loud.

“Your Highness, I didn’t mean it like I was opposing the king’s decision—”

“Hey, you two! Get back here!” Jimin’s roaring voice cuts Jungkook off, and you quickly turn away from him to see what the commotion is about. He attempts to follow, but you stop him before he could get up.

“Stay. That’s an order,” you instruct sternly.

Jungkook doesn’t have the time to respond as you rush out of the carriage. He pokes his head out of the window just in time to see Jimin chasing the two captives who’re now apparently fleeing.

“Jimin, stop! Just let them go!” You scream out, and it’s enough to make Jimin halt his tracks. He whips his head around to look at you quizzically before turning back to the other two who are now too far to track down. “It’s not worth the trouble. Plus, they were merely children.”

“How noble of you.” Jungkook shakes his head disapprovingly, though he is out of earshot for you to hear what he’s said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t come back,” he says much louder this time.

You turn your attention to him and shrug. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t allow them to hurt you again.”

Miyoung approaches Jungkook and hands him the liquid concoction and encourages him to drink it.

“Her Highness: One. General Jeon: Zero.”

Jungkook turns to your smug figure and mimics your posture.

“Oh, it’s so on.”

*  *  *

Night falls quicker than you’ve anticipated it to. But after a long day full of surprises you welcome the calming breeze that blankets the dark surrounding. Your companions on this trip think otherwise as Miyoung urges Jimin to start the fire, grumbling about regretting not bringing a thicker tunic along.

“I have some spare shirts,” Jungkook announces, having come out of the tent he just finished setting up. Miyoung beams at him expectantly, rubbing her shoulders as if to explicitly show how uncomfortable she is with her thin clothing. “You can never go wrong with too much white tunic, as they say. So, I have a lot —”

“I do too!” Jimin stands abruptly from where he sits and holds up a finger at us, signalling for us to wait as he jogs towards the carriage. He leaves the dry twigs he’s collected earlier to presumably look for his spare articles of clothing. You roll your eyes as you make your way towards the middle of the camp and attempt to take a crack at starting a fire — something Jimin’s been patiently trying even before the sun has set, but unfortunately failing to cause even a tiny spark.

You grab some wood chipping and dried leaves, setting them carefully on top of several twigs. Inhaling sharply, as if to prepare yourself mentally for what you’re about to attempt, you wedge a twig between your palms before rubbing them in a quick motion.

“Your Highness, I don’t think it’s safe for you to do that,” Miyoung rushes to your side but you pay her no mind.

“Since when has she ever listened to any of our warnings? I’d say leave her be,” you hear Jungkook explain somewhere behind you. “She’s been asking for something to do. But honestly, how could we order her around —?”

“Ha!” You exclaim, which startles Miyoung. Your eyes widen in awe as you stare at the tender flicker of the small fire in front of you. “It’s the first time I’ve made one!”

The embers flicker out of existence just as rapidly as they began; it’s as if they weren’t there, to begin with. You slump your shoulders and pout. Jungkook doesn’t serve your cause as he doubles back in laughter as hints of smoke rising.

“It can’t be worse than Jimin’s attempt though, right?” You pout and Miyoung consoles you with a soft pat on your shoulder.

“You’re supposed to feed it more dried leaves and branches as soon as you see that small spark,” Jungkook explains as he grabs the stick from your hands. He mimics the actions you did earlier, only this time he follows his advice and stacks several branches to sustain the fire.

Not long after, the blaze grows bigger and Jimin returns with his promised garments.

“Should we really be stopping to rest near the place where we were ambushed?” Jimin questions warily as he sits beside Miyoung, across from where you and Jungkook are. Both of you watch as she successfully weaves her arms near the heat of the fire.

“We should be fine. The two of us will just have to take turns keeping watch throughout the night,” Jungkook muses, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Worse scenario would be the kid comes back with more mercenaries. Highly doubt it will happen soon, though.”

“What do you mean?” your forehead creases with worry, forgetting for a moment the prisoner who was able to flee your capture. Granted it was the fact they were mere children that made you pardon and not pursue them, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t dread their potential return. All four of you — but more so Jungkook — barely escaped unscathed, so you’d rather avoid trouble as much as you can.

“I’ve been thinking about something Jimin pointed out earlier — they’re dressed too warmly. I did notice Pyo was wearing a thick animal hide sewn into his tunic,” Jungkook trails off, lost in thought. You attempt to put the pieces together, unsure of what Jungkook means.

“It is a little unusual. Especially this time of the year; we don’t get enough cold weather to warrant wearing clothing with thick animal hides like that.”

“Precisely, Your Grace.” He extends his arms out and leans back, groaning as he puts his hand over his wound. “This was a calculated attack.”

“You think someone planned this?” Jimin asks with a worried expression evident on his face.

“It would seem that way. Especially because only a handful of people are aware of this. I’m unsure if the Mins kept their side of the bargain. Assuming they did, I’m certain only important people know of your arrival.” Jungkook elaborates and you agree with him.

“I’m not one to speculate, and wouldn’t normally run my mouth like this in front of other people but… you don’t think they were responsible for this, do you?”

You gulp and look at Jungkook who is bearing the same distraught expression as you. No one speaks for a while, and the crackling sound of the log burning is the only thing that fills the quietness in the air. Accusing a royalty of committing possible abduction is a hefty allegation, so no one dares to follow your statement.

“Based on what little evidence we have, that’s not entirely out of the conversation. It’s not hard to determine why they would do this—it could be some sort of payback for losing the war.” Jungkook warns in a hushed tone, causing everyone to feel a little bit on edge. “I should add that we cannot be hasty in our conclusion. We may be mistaken about our accusations.”

He is right, yet it’s strenuous to eradicate the roots of doubt once it’s planted in your consciousness.

You begin questioning everyone’s safety, as well as the decision not to bring as many guards as possible. It’s not because you doubt Jungkook’s ability. But even he’s not invincible, evident by the current gash on his torso. Which reminds you of the event prior.

You killed a man.

It had been a long day for you and everybody else, so you hadn’t given it much thought. But as soon as your nerves settle and weariness sinks in, the reality is becoming clearer to you.

Jimin had kindly disposed of the body once you told him not to worry about the young men who’d escaped, stating he is ‘used to that kind of thing’. He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t question him further.

“What’s wrong? You look spooked.” Jungkook says softly beside you.

Your head dips and you swallow the taste of bile on your tongue.  

“I still can’t wrap my mind around how I…” you pause, unsure of what to say next. Cold sweat forms on your back and your hands tremble at the image of the man lying on the ground, blood pooling around him. It hadn’t been your intention to end his life. But when he hurt Jungkook and declared his plans, you threw better judgement out of the window. “I’ve never had to witness somebody die in that manner…by my hands...”

The air grows tense at your words, and silence ensues. Your eyes stay glued to the fire, aware of the intense gaze Jungkook is pinning on you.

“It’s my fault,” your head whips up in surprise to meet Jimin’s sombre expression. “Had I acted quicker, perhaps General Jeon wouldn’t get hurt, and you wouldn’t have had to make that decision.”

“No! No…” you shake your head defiantly. “If I’d stay put like I was supposed to —”

“You’d have been taken from me,” Jungkook’s voice is stern but quiet. Before you have the time to process his words, he continues. “Or worse. If something were to happen to you, I swear —”

Jungkook pauses, eyes filled with unrest and trepidation despite the tone of anger in his voice. Your heart swells, and comfort blooms in your chest despite the cloud of fatigue that looms.

“I’m sorry you had to witness what you did, and I’m sure you did not intend to end his life. But I hope you don’t admonish yourself for wanting to save your own life.”  

Jungkook’s voice is soft, almost lulling you to slumber. His hands reach for yours, strong grip offering warmth and comfort. The sincerity in his voice causes your heart to perform somersaults, and his proximity didn’t help. You will yourself to pluck your gaze away from him, fearing you might implode from the intensity of his gaze.

“I apologize for souring the mood,” you grin sheepishly toward Jimin and Miyoung as you retract your hand from Jungkook’s touch. He doesn’t concede, and your cheeks flare.

“Don’t apologize, Your Grace. I forget you’re not used to that kind of environment. It puts a lot into perspective.” Jimin offers a friendly smile, and it puts you at ease. “I didn’t know you were a skilled archer, though.”

His tone is light, eyes looking at you with wonder. You silently thank him for steering the conversation elsewhere. You shrug, grinning.

“Beginner’s luck, I suppose.”

“Modesty suits you well.” Jungkook mumbles, his tone teasing. “Bravery even more so.”

You squirm, not used to the attention he is giving you. It’s even worse than it had been in the carriage hours ago. You could excuse his flirting for the lack of blood pulsing through his veins. Is this even considering flirting? For all you know, it’s nothing but a mere complement. Your head swims in confusion.

“I should probably get some rest. My head feels like it’s being pummelled with a rock.”

You lean away from Jungkook as you stand, and he finally releases your hand. Miyoung begins to do the same but you shake your head, wanting to be alone with your thoughts even just for a while.

*  *  *

Outside, the three are quiet after your departure. The fragility that you’ve put on display has Jungkook on edge, rocking the boat of confidence he has about the trip. Despite his faith in his skill and the tenacity you’ve shown, having to face the uncertainty of possibly being ill-prepared doesn’t sit well with him. There’s no one to blame on today’s outcome but him, and it pains him to see you bear the brunt of his shortcomings.

Jungkook knows you’re capable of defending yourself, but the outcome of ending a life is something he didn’t think you’d be affected simply because he’s desensitized it.

Jungkook thinks back to his brother’s face and the listless look in his eyes, blood gushing out of his mouth.

There is too much red. Everywhere. The noise that surrounds him blurs into one cacophonous scream of agony and pain. His heart shatters into a million pieces as he cradles Hoseok’s cold, lifeless body.

Perhaps he’d been foolish to delude himself into thinking that he’s great — that the damn recognition and honour in the form of a medallion proves nothing. Not when he couldn’t save the one person who mattered to him more than his own life. It should’ve been me, instead of Hoseok.

Jungkook shakes his head and pushes the thoughts away. There’s no room to feel weak when three lives are counting on him. His nails dig into his palms as he clenches his jaw.

Pull yourself together, Jeon.

No one speaks for a while, and it gives him time to sort his feelings out. And by sorting, he means concealing and burying. He throws fresh lumber into the fire and stares at the burning log as the image of his brother’s demise is swallowed in the blaze.

Miyoung begins the conversation around the gossip of the palace, trying to guide the conversation away from today’s experience. Jungkook appreciates her sentiment.

Although it’s short-lived when the topic eventually lands on him.

“So, those rumours were true then?” Jimin grins in good nature. Any air of uneasiness between them has somehow dissipated, much to Jungkook’s surprise. “About your supposed ‘unrequited love’ for Lady Siyeon.”

“Word travels fast in the palace.” He chooses not to answer Jimin’s question, hoping it’s enough to divert him from the topic.

Jimin shrugs nonchalantly.

“It’s no surprise. Now tell me, philanderer.” Jimin’s eyes turn into smaller crescent shapes as his smile grows wider. “How exactly do you have so many women pining for you, yet you choose one that’s specifically not allowed by the rule of land to have a partner?”

“Philanderer’s a bit…” Jungkook murmurs and scoffs, taking slight offence to the scandalous nickname. He isn’t one to sleep around so carelessly.

“I’ve heard of court ladies being allowed by the king to leave, though. So, they’re not bound to the throne by the rule of the land,” Miyoung points out. Jungkook smiles sheepishly at her statement.

“I suppose I have a knack for being smitten to people who can’t reciprocate my feelings for them.”

Jimin winces after hearing Jungkook’s words. “Sounds like you need a good glass of ale, my friend.”

Jungkook laughs and nods in agreement, although he knows they can’t drink because they have to stay awake to keep watch as the evening rolls through. He is about to say something when your call for Miyoung cuts through the air.

“General Jeon. Jimin.” She bows to both men before hurriedly strutting over to your tent.

There is a short pause before Jimin turns to Jungkook once more.

“You say you have a ‘knack for being smitten to people’. That means it’s not the first time you’ve experienced this.”

“Nothing ever goes over your head, no? Also, you’re invested in this.”

Jimin raises both his hands before shrugging. “It fosters good conversation.”

“Recalling the memories of my rejection is your idea of a pleasant conversation?”

“What can I say? I love a good gossip.” Jimin admits, which prompts Jungkook to shake his head with a small smile tugging the corners of his lips.

He can’t resist sharing his thoughts, however. He’s never really had anyone to confide in terms of having feelings for someone. After all, when you’re entrusted to be a commanding officer in the middle of a war, mundane notions of sentiments come last among the lists of priorities.

“I was explicitly rejected by Lady Siyeon, yes,” Jungkook begins, before exhaling. “That felt nice to let out. Also just letting you know that I’m too damn sober for this type of discussion.”

Jimin chuckles and motions for him to continue.

“The previous one — well, that was a long time ago. I was too young to recall specific events, but I remember wanting to see her every chance I get. Times spent with her were scarce because she’s practically attached to my older brother at all times.”

Jungkook’s voice lowers every sentence. He’s terrified that if he speaks any louder, the imaginary barrier he’s built around him and Jimin will somehow crumble.

“I was taken by the way she carries herself. Despite her social upbringing, she always managed to treat everyone with the same attitude. Which I thought for an eight-year-old was quite impressive. She isn’t the type to look down on anyone, but at the same time, she doesn’t just let anyone step all over her. Truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Years pass, and I see her less often because my father made sure to start training me for combat earlier than he did Hoseok. So, I never saw much of her. Eventually, the feelings waned, until they were gone completely.”

I think.

Jungkook didn’t want to add the last phrase. Even inside his head, the sentence sounded doubtful and unconfident — two words he doesn’t like associating himself with.

“She liked Hoseok instead?” Jimin’s mumbles glumly.

“I never knew. In those years I never mustered the courage to go up and make a conversation with her.” Jimin’s mouth is agape, eyes wide with shock, but Jungkook continues. “Although she constantly had that look of admiration in her eyes every time, they were together.”

“I didn’t think there was going to be a day when I’d associate the words ‘General Jeon’ with ‘timid’.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. I was practically unapproachable; the complete opposite of my brother.”

Jimin shakes his head as he grins, still in disbelief.

“Why don’t you ask her now, then?”

Jungkook fights the urge to laugh, struggling to keep himself composed.

“Ah, well, she’s somewhere unreachable, I suppose,” he grins ruefully as he shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. “Moreover, that was a long time ago. Perhaps in the next lifetime.”

“Perhaps…” Jimin trails off.

Jungkook chucks another log to feed the fire, which roars back into life.

— prev ; next ; series masterlist

[dise7se]

gone, gone (thank you)

by @spideysforce (8.1k) for @tonystarkdadmode ( @irondad-fic-exchange )

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page

Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary: 

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home."I've got a show waiting for you in Manhattan."

— prompts: presumed dead, hypothermia, and hurt/comfort

read on ao3 (leave comments and kudos)

“There is no way Parker is Spider-Man!” Flash said, voice distant down the hall of the snow-lodge cabin, game pieces clacking against the board.

“And why can’t he be?” Betty asks, voice muffled over a piece of licorice.

“We’ve already been over this,” Ned sighs, the room quieting except for the crackle of the fireplace in front of them where they gathered on the living room floor surrounding the coffee table.

“Bullshit.”

“The dickwad is right here, you know,” MJ says, setting her mouth straight to hide her laugh. She fails. “Ned, let’s hear him out. Can Flash really connect Peter Parker to Spider-Man? JJJ couldn’t.”

They can, not that the Daily Bugle should have aired out his business for all of his home city to prey on, for Mysterio to get into his head, and target every last of his loved ones. It had only been a few months since the older man had faked his death on television, had the Daily Bugle ruin his reputation more than they’ve already tried, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly with Pepper Potts to backtrack on this PR nightmare that carefully painted a brushstroke target on each of his loved ones.

Peter has paranoia looming behind him, always watching him, never lingering too close but never leaving him alone. In each dark corner of any alleyway he’s in, paranoia follows him. The green gases and mists seeping out of his city’s storm drains, twirling mystically around his feet, those are all Mysterio. His anxiety-addled brain has convinced him each warp of sulfur dioxide twirling through the air, green subway lights illuminating each particle is Quentin Beck, taunting him in his home.

These last few months, his previous mentor has been out of commission, along with other Avengers. He can’t complain, though, he has a feeling he’s making new allies in his home-burough while being a vigilante. Possibly a new mentor, but that’s him projecting. There is no Mysterio if he buries himself in school and work, if he’s exerting himself.

He walks over and joins the rest of them in the living room of the cabin from the hallway where he set down his suitcase and organized it before aunt May came back.

“You hear back from MIT?” MJ asks, scooting closer to him once he sits down on the floor beside her and the coffee table.

“Not yet,” he says, all the attention shifting to him. “I think we’ll all hear back by next week.”

“Well, we may have applied, but it doesn’t mean all of us will get in..” Flash announces, earning an elbow to the ribs by an exasperated Betty.

This is their new dynamic now, really, maybe it was their subconscious way of coping with their previous summer vacation, they began gravitating towards each other.

Peter watched the confusion flicker across Flash’s face, mumbling an apology and a sarcastic, “it’s true..”

He’s been doing that more often, and even though he’s made it clear that he hates it when Peter looks at him with that, ‘psychoanalytical’ face, he’s trying to figure him out. Flash is an electrical current, a neon light buzzing, flickering and it seems like there’s a fuse ready to burst into flecks at any time. He doesn’t mind when Flash is annoyed with him, he knows sophomore and junior year bailing on Academic Decathlon was his fault, but there’s a weight off his shoulders since his identity was revealed to the entire world, he’s in a legal case with a local Queens lawyer to soften the blow currently, and he can handle these little outbursts.

If Flash goes around the school revealing his identity, well, he doesn’t have much leverage.

He puts everything he has into tormenting Peter, but that’s how he is. That’s how their classmates see him, he likes being the center of attention.

The second time he noticed it happen, it was after their Europe trip. He was hugging May, holding her close, Betty, Ned and MJ scattered, and he caught sight of Flash. May turned their 1940s Revolvo on and they sat with the cold air blowing on their faces, May’s face flickering between him and Flash and his butler.

He never dared to bring it up. Ned and MJ never allowed him to, no matter how subtly he planned to. It wasn’t fair of his family, it wasn’t fair for him to go through alone. He never fooled Petter with his facade, but the sinking feeling in his stomach felt worse. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, no matter how many obligations he has to worry about.

Ben taught him when any situation arises for him to be the bigger person, he needs to be the bigger person and assume responsibility. He knew he needed to help find Flash a safe space if he couldn’t by himself. Or, fuck, even just support him whenever he needed to.

In his own fucked up way, Flash had his back as well.

He shoved a skateboard into his arms one afternoon after leaving a Decathlon meeting, murmuring he needed a skating partner today. To not take it personally, they wouldn’t hold hands or anything, but to make fun of someone else if they fall off the board or eat shit.

He had a feeling, and he thinks he’s right. That morning, Peter came in late, nearly dragged in by May because of a late night run-in with Silver Stable. With the scrapes and bruises from being dragged through Manhattan, he might as well have been dragged by a skateboard and not his web shooters.

So, they skateboarded.

And he did eat shit.

Ned, MJ, and Flash scold Betty for accidentally shoving the Monopoly board too far to the left, Ned yelling at Flash to stop cheating and taking his money. May comes in at the perfect time, yelling over the teenagers that she bought everyone’s sandwiches from the sub shop.

“May, you bring my camera in?” Peter asks through a full mouth of lettuce, bread, tomato, cheddar, and deli-meats, earning a light playful smack upside the head.

He doesn’t miss Flash’s furrowing brows, his body immediately freezing from across the kitchen island. She mutters, “Yes, Peter, next time I’ll make you walk a quarter mile in the snow for it.”

He snorts, earning a small, ‘smeck,’ on the forehead and watches May pass out the rest of his friends’ food and chips and drinks. He forgot what this was like, back in Europe with Ned when they felt independent on their own and like they could take on the world from a small, cramped space with all their friends.

“Hey, Peter, did you get an email back from that lawyer?” Ned asks, chewing loudly from his chips and turning back to him. His other half, the other part of his brain, oh, where would he be without Ned? “Remember, you said you’d get one.”

“Mm!” Peter exclaims with a full mouth, taking his phone out from his jean pocket. He doesn’t give the group any details, ever, just the public information the brand new firm allows to go to the press. They’ve strategic in their methods, and May was the most doubtful at first, but the two lawyers and impressive secretary were not as amateur as their clientele suggested.

He turns his phone screen to let May watch his email app load, slurping loudly on his drink while May sighs. “You know, I won’t miss that when you go off to school next year. I think you do it on purpose.”

“Hm, a schemer never tells.”

An email with the subject Please read by tonight, 12/11 which makes his stomach lurch. May hesitates, grabbing onto his hand holding the phone and her hand shakes slightly before she presses on the lock button. This could mean anything. His paranoia, the slight buzz constantly whirring behind him at all times from his senses could be triggered by anything and everything, could be confirmed by this email.

May squeezes his shoulder, ready to talk to the rest of the group once she notices his jaw lock-up in anxiety. “We did get an email. Come on, after you guys eat, we’ll do ice skating as promised.”

MJ continues with their conversation about MIT earlier, which leads to an argument over whether or not there truly is a class on street fighting mechanics, or do they call it that to glorify physics.

He knew forgetting about the email until he could be alone to read it with me would not help him at all. He excuses himself, picking his phone up and ignores the worrying glances from his friends.

Before he can think to text Tony, his caller ID flashes across the screen. “Hello?”

“ Hey, Peter ,” he begins, “I only have a few minutes to talk, Morgan’s taking a bath and is currently making bubble potions that may or may not be spilling over the bathtub. Wanted to check in on you..”

“Don’t let Morgan flood the bathroom again, Tony,” he says lightheartedly, knowing why he’s calling. “Listen, were you cc’ed into the lawyer’s email? I haven’t read it yet and—”

“Whoa, slow down kid,” he says, and Peter walks up the wooden stairs of the lodge, watching the living room between the wooden panels. He really needs to give Tony shit for inviting them to a cabin the size of his apartment complex floor. “ That actually is why I’m calling. They said Nelson has reason to believe Mr. Beck may be conspiring inside of the prison, but he can’t know for sure. This is not a reason to become anxious, okay?”

“What do you mean he’s conspiring?! ” Peter yelps, yanking the nearest door open in the long hallway and closing himself in with an unnecessary slam. “What reason does this lawyer have?”

He thinks his friends can hear him from downstairs, he knows May can.

“ Calm down ,” he chastises over the phone, his voice rough and quiet. Peter curses himself for making the man drop his own familial responsibilities for him, but his guilt complex the size of Manhattan won’t let him go through this by himself. Like he needs to. “ Don’t get worked up. I wanted to call and let you know I have someone looking into this even further, along with Murdock and Nelson. It’s probably just a threat out of boredom, probably got a smack on the wrist for staying out past curfew and he wants to take it out on everyone. ”

Peter sighs, sinking down onto the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. It’s large, has fluffy white towels on a rack to his left, a large walk-in shower, and is bare of bath-mats but signs point to supplies under the sink. This is good, he thinks, he can ground himself.

The tile is cool on his hand, it’s freezing him through his jeans, one of the laces on his snow boots came undone, and he can hear Morgan screeching in the background over her magical bath potions that she’s going to make a mermaid out of.

“ You still with me? ” Tony’s voice comes through the other end of the phone, and he swears he can hear more crackling than usual. It might just be the snow drifting outside messing with the nearby towers and powerlines.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here.” His voice comes out even smaller than intended.

“Can I call you back? I need to call May now, and— Morgan, you can’t use scissors on the bubbles! ”

A sense of familiarity washes over Peter, and he succumbs to the feeling of safeness associated with Tony and Morgan. He’d been too close to death already. He was dead. And after navigating life without Tony for a while, he piled each responsibility like building blocks, a delicate glass structure he could shatter at any given moment, and Mysterio took a hammer to the glass. Thanos buried his glass structure, leaving part of him under with it.

“Yeah, Tony. Talk to you later. Miss you, too.”

The rest of the night goes on, and May prepares them all hot chocolate before she heads off upstairs to take a hot shower. The uneasiness never settled inside of him, a nemesis unwilling to leave him alone.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest, his hands shake and feel numb, and he wonders why .

Is it his body’s reaction to having to spend a few nights away from the city during their holiday trip, unable to patrol? Is it lingering stress from senior year, that he and May haven’t properly celebrated all of Hanukkah yet?

He must be incapable of relaxing, turning back to the couch where he’s curled up with 4 of his friends watching Home Alone 2.

“Hey, is anyone else’s toes feeling numb?” he turns to the group, watching them blearily blink at the TV from exhaustion.

“Your toes are numb ?” Flash asks from beside him on the floor, leaning against the couch with his head tilted to the side. He has no idea how that could be comfortable at all.

“Yeah, numb.”

He needed to keep talking to someone, hearing his friends talk, too. It might just be anxiety, or his PTSD symptoms bothering him. After Europe, the school forced everyone on the trip to attend at least one counseling session, and Murdock and Nelson had suggested the same when they took on the case early-autumn.

He wanted to take the advice, especially since it meant so much to May.

The cabin’s living room TV is quietly playing a documentary about the dangers of climate change and the remarkable effects the current generation will face when Peter’s jolted awake, his heart thudding in his chest and his alertness draws him from his sleep. He must’ve fallen asleep when he was in between MJ and Betty a couple of hours ago, he’s covered in a blanket and feels a pillow that wasn’t there before, supporting his neck- May’s doing- and it’s now when he realizes MJ isn’t beside him anymore, there’s too big of a gap on the couch.

He stills, not wanting to call out her name if she’s just using the bathroom or went back to her guestroom. Peter reaches his head over to check the time on the TV clock, and it’s nearing 2:30AM. The anxious feeling of danger looming in the distance, of now being watched returns and he needs to run some sort of perimeter check, maybe they have security--

“Peter!” he hears a distant shout from outside, a girl’s shout— and he immediately blanches. MJ .

His heart rate picks up, and he kicks the blanket off of him and stands. The snow is falling heavily outside, still, never seeming to let up and blocks out the nearby street lamps and backyard lamps. “MJ?!”

He turns to check if his whispering disturbed the others yet, but he decides he’ll go investigate first. He’s Spider-Man, he can head outside to check for her.

He turns to grab his oversized winter coat and his snow boots when he notices the backyard sliding door’s open— where he must’ve heard the scream from.

“Guys!” Peter shouts into the quiet living room, interrupting the warm peace from the TV playing and whatever phase of their sleep cycle there in. “Wake up! I think MJ”s outside!”

Peter runs out into the cold, a gust of wind hitting him immediately and causes his whole body to shiver while he shrugs his coat on for 25 centimeters of snow. It reaches his mid-calves and it seeps into his pants, each frozen entity stinging him and dragging him down into the ground while he runs— he doesn’t know where he’s running to, but his throat goes raw from screaming for MJ.

Frustrated none of his friends woke up in the wake of his own panic, his senses are screaming at him, danger, danger, danger , he’s too cold, his heart feels frozen. The low hum of his senses dial all the way to his limit. He screams and falls into a pile of snow on the ground, hiding himself from the danger that doesn’t seem to be there. Yet.

“MJ, where are you?” he screams, his mouth betraying him with the sound of wrecked sobs, desperacy ready to escape him, his eyes are wide and terrified. He gets back up, swaying on his own feet and he’s inhaling too many snowflakes, they’re everywhere.

He needs to find MJ, right now. She could be out here completely alone, but his senses won’t tell him where --

Before he can reach her piercing scream, the lamp post next to him flickers on, illuminated in green. His heart stops, and he feels the bile rising up inside of him.

No, no, no, no— not him, he’s supposed to be dead- wait, no, he’s supposed to be in prison—

Peter watches in pure anguish as the snow picks up, dangerous icicles falling from the lamp post and sky pierce his skin and he steps forward behind the shadows of the moonlight and snow, towering over him in his old suit he thought was destroyed. Was evidence, locked away to never be touched again.

Except it flickers away, into a cloud of smoke.

Maybe he’s hallucinating because he’s sick? He’s tired?

He has only gotten eight hours of sleep in the last three days, but what drove him so mad he came out here to the snow , the blizzard that seems to never let up-- the one that Mr. Stark mentioned-- is sending a small snowstorm to the boroughs of New York. Must be due to Global Warming.

The hum of a drone is loud, careening and he ducks his head before it strikes him, it nearly catches him and his breath won’t come out past the burning and aching in his throat.

Honestly, Peter assumed he’d be dead by now, no one telling him a word to protect him. Or, would it protect him even further to tell the truth that he is hidden away, rotting in a cell, truly plotting against him like Foggy Nelson said not to worry too much about.

“If you wanna save your city, you’re gonna need to come with me,” the familiar voice announces into the middle of the night, pushing him past his threshold of sanity and sends a wracking shiver down his spine and arms.

“I’m not really here, no, where would the fun in that be?” he replies smugly, probably watching from around the corner while Peter frantically runs back to the snow cabin to secure his family. “I need you to find me.”

He can only think about MJ, if this is an illusion she must be safe. What if he’s truly lying, crawling out of a grave somewhere in Manhattan where he was buried. Forgotten about. Rotting. For the last few months, he’s been here. Around every corner, lingering, falling behind every alleyway light to stay hidden. Quentin Beck has been the one watching him, it probably isn’t paranoid tendencies.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get back inside NOW!” May shouts from behind him, his neck twisting to catch sight of her. His hands shake while he fishes somewhere in his pockets for his phone, hoping it didn’t get buried in the snow where he fell.

He feels heavy, like there’s two tons weighing over him and pulling him down into the ground even further, the slush eating away at his boots.

“May! Get away!” Peter shouts, his voice too raspy to be understood. “Find MJ inside!”

“Aw, Peter. Don’t worry about them, they’ll be safe right here, in the warm cabin under their warm blankets. Let’s hope the fireplace doesn’t catch anything around it, though,” Beck chuckles. “I think that’d be even enough for you getting me killed.”

“Killed? ” he exasperatedly asks, navigating his way back to the cabin and freezing in the dark. “You’re still alive. All of those people you killed in Europe are not .”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Beck says sharply, appearing right behind him. He can see him better this time, his hair is slightly grown out but gelled to the side. He’s wearing a black coat over this old shitty suit, completely concealed by his jacket. He clings to his helmet at his right side, Peter watches the inside fill up with snow.

Every miniscule detail, he can’t believe it. He can’t be here in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You know, I couldn’t wait any longer. You don’t deserve the title of Spider-Man, your big family. It was a big mistake letting them continue to believe Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

“Because I will protect them. You can’t underestimate me, I got away from you last time. And now?” Peter steps towards Beck, going farther away from the snow cabin. “You can take me. Don’t you dare touch them.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Beck’s voice is layered in eagerness, like a child. “I’ll show you what I want and what I’m doing.

“And if you don’t? Millions  are going to pay for what you did. You know, that Jester King, Tony Stark, he really played me when he played dead for months. He did. He takes my holographic system, I take it back from him through you. You try to get me murdered, now I take away what you love most.

“What I want?” he says, finger tapping on his chin in amusement. “That’s bringing you down along with everyone you love. Excuse me, I mean, after I bring down everyone you love.”

Beck signals a drone over to him, smiling pointedly and gleefully as he waves a projection over, projecting New York City in a small screen in between them. There’s barely any snow covering the city like the forecasts predicted, and he swallows hard for what’s about to happen.

If he was capable of all the infrastructure damage to Europe, each disaster caused by G-ddamn drones, he’s capable of bringing down a few boroughs in New York City.

He stares at Beck, refusing to look down at the projection in front of him. At this point, his clothes clings to him and if he isn’t hypothermic, he thinks he will be soon. This isn’t part of his illusion tech, no. This time it’s real.

“Come on, Pete!” Beck yells cheerfully, nudging his shoulder roughly to turn back to the drone. “Where’s the fun in it if you don’t get to see what’s gonna happen, huh?”

He calculates his options, watching from his peripheral the snow attack the city. Shouts are emitted from the drone. “At least it’s not like Europe! I have no problem using more of my illusion tech here, but I’ve got a show waiting for you in Manhattan.”

Peter stares hard at the screen, anger and malice replacing every other feeling he’s felt up to now. He thinks back to his illusions and what he knows , he’s been sitting on top of every secret about him, hoarding them, using them to manipulate them before and knowing his secrets work against him.

“Here, I’ll take you there through one of my drones. So you’ll know what it’ll feel like to be on 85th when I destroy it.”

Peter’s hidden in plain view under a fire escape, it’s 2AM in the city, but he can hear all the people that are outside. Dogs being walked late at night, late-night epiphanies happening on fire escapes in the light snow, taxi-drivers in the middle of their shifts, the nearby hospital emergency room full of trauma cases from car accidents from the slippery snow. It’s the quietest he’s heard in New York, and he’s looking around and making sure nobody’s lurking around any corners. He needs to give Beck what he wants, and get out of here to get to the real New York.

“Beck, NO!” he hears Ned scream from above him, and he runs from under the coverage of the fire escape and into the middle of the grimey alleyway to see Ned tethering on the edge of the 30 meter building. “You can’t do this, it’s not fair!”

Beck appears behind Ned, and he panics in search of his web shooter attachments and comes up short. He’s still in his soaked clothes from the snow cabin. “Peter! You’ve gotta help m—”

Peter screams Ned’s name, crawling up the building as far as he can before he can leap out to catch Ned. He misses, and Ned collapses to the ground.

An illusion, this isn’t real, none of this is real. It’s not real. Not real.

He gasps and tumbles onto the ground, landing back at the snow cabin.

“Let’s play another one, you haven’t seen the best part!”

He’s standing on a highrise building, in his Spider-Man suit, and he knows it’s still an illusion. The snow is falling even heavier than it did at the snow cabin, but it’s covering pedestrians walking around late at night or very early in the morning. Random people still out eating, teenagers skipping curfew, people leaving their office jobs far too late deemed acceptable

The snow covers the cars , and he can hear emergency coverage playing on radios and TV’s while the city falls into a panic over Beck’s illusions. The snow is it’s true amount, but he’s redirecting it everywhere through the stupid drones. He’s playing an illusion on his city.

He hears a child scream out for Spider-Man’s help, his daddy’s stuck under a car and he won’t stop bleeding. He’s trapped on this high-rise beam, paralyzed by something. Why can’t he just leap down, shoot his webs, he can see all the coverage he has to get to. Now.

He gasps when he feels two hands on his back, shoving him forward in anger. He sees Flash, balancing with him on this yellow beam full of venom as he says, “This is all your fucking fault!’

He listens, watching with his jaw dropped because he’s too stupid to do anything else. He doesn’t have anywhere to run, he brings his hands to his ears and shuts his eyes tight, he’s guessing what Beck’s putting illusion-Flash up to. This seems too simple, but he doesn’t want to play his chances. He wishes his city could see him right now, he’s their beacon, they aren’t collectively helpless.

“I’m done, Beck!” Peter shouts over the whistling wind and heavy snow. “I’m not running. You don’t have to do this.”

Darkness falls around him, it covers him and the snow, and Beck’s gone. His body’s equilibrium is off from being out in this avalanche, the snow now nearly up to his waist is pure agonizing wetness. There’s no more Manhattan skylines, or a cityscape at all, no more traumatized Flash, only the cabin with the porch light on.

Peter turns on his heels, running through the thick snow, holding onto himself, and starts racing in the snow. He keeps his eyes wide open despite the snow seeping into his eyes, he’s gone, the paranoia died down, the feeling of being watched simmered away like a light burning out. His legs feel like two tons of steel are weighing them down, and launches himself inside the door to find May, Ned, Flash, and to see if MJ is here.

He can almost sense where things are, he scoops a pile of snow off of his face and litters it to the ground, shrugging his jacket off which might be his worst decision of the night, his eyes feel blindfolded by the sleet.

“May!” Peter yells, holding back a sob sitting in the back of his throat, his voice quivering. “P-please. Please tell me you’re okay.”

He picks his lead feet up, waiting for an answer. He can sense bodies nearby, so they're here in the perimeter, but his senses have gone haywire after his encounter with the drone and Beck. Whatever frequency and illusions he uses, he feels less keyed now and less like he’s going to wake up from this nightmare.

He feels real.

“Baby?” he hears May whisper at the top of the stairs, now noticing the upstairs light flickered on and illuminating the living room and the stairs. He’s sisyphus climbing the stairs, his own body betraying him, and this is his punishment. Too weak to move right now, too weak to go hug May. To go tell his friends everything’s gonna be okay.

“It- it was him, May. I saw him,” Peter whispers, elation and adrenaline still coursing through his body. “He’s alive, I mean you already knew that but-- May, he was here. I have to go.”

“Peter,” May says carefully, lifting her arm that was protectively holding Ned back. He’s crying in a steady stream watching them at the top of the stairs from the bottom, he’s his own impossible boulder. He can’t reach them. He can’t get to the top.

She’s careful in her tone. “Why did you go outside? What did you see?”

“May, you have to believe me. I need to go to Manhattan— I have to send Mr. Stark a message and you-- you guys need protection,” he rambles breathlessly, half of his words ununciated, “I can’t let you guys die.”

“Okay, Peter,” May confirms, and he’s never seen her look so sad. She’s covered in moonlight, she’s backlit by the upstairs light, but he can’t see her eyes clearly like he usually can. And, oh fuck, he thought this was real— “Name five things you can see right now. Just five.”

“I— May, no, I need your car keys. I need my suit,” he says, watching his friends faces fall and hears their heartbeats pick up. “And MJ, she’s okay? She was screaming, and--”

May sighs, resigning, and takes a few steps down the stairs to meet his eyes. “Baby, are you having an episode?”

“May, no!—“

“I can help. We can all help. Nobody’s judging you, I know you didn’t find the best coping mechanisms, but—“

“Call Tony. Please. For me.”

“Okay,” May says, running a hand through his soaked curls and he feels her shaking movements, and he gently catches her hand.

“I’m so sorry, I brought this here.” He glances up at his friends, watching their own storms on their own faces, the aching, the fear caused by him. Ned’s quietly crying now, keeping his face as stoic as he can.

“Go, Peter. I’ll set security up around the perimeter,” Ned whispers bravely, swallowing back tears. “Just.. Can you tell us what you saw outside?”

Peter’s mind instantly flashes back to Ned’s body on the pavement in the illusion, and swallows the bile back down but allows more tears to fall. “I— He made an illusion about MJ. About all of you. Everyone was inside except for her. He’s in New York. Just like Foggy said.”

He turns outside to face outside, and it’s nearly morning now. The sun hides far on the low horizon, not daring to rise yet but is still covered by snowfall.

May finally relented, grabbing her cellphone to get in touch with Mr. Stark and Nelson and Murdock. It was Claire who answered first, insisting she talk to Peter. Her worries over the phone brought a wave of nausea over him, she described New York right now. There’s hail and snow slides and blizzards which should be impossible in their terrain. Peter tore his clothes off and put his suit on, feeling idiotic for wearing a jacket over his spider suit. Ned sets up his own perimeter check, signaling and coding spider-drones to confirm the validity of Beck’s own drones and keep an eye out for unwanted visitors.

He web swings 100,000 meters back to the city, internally thanking May for convincing Mr. Stark to only send them into upstate New York, not too far out into the mountains and terrain.

For once, the Parker Luck might be working on his side once he thwips off of the Statue of Liberty and soars through air with his webs and wings, back out towards the nearest island’s edge. He promises himself to come out here more often, especially in the snow. Whatever New York borough Beck is in, he isn’t nearby Ellis island, and his senses continue to buzz.

New York’s loveable grizzled seen-too-much detective is back in his home city, and he web-swings across vast swaths of water into his city through the heavy snow.

Beck lied to him. He had trusted him. He destroyed his image, causing him to flee from his real life for months . He told him he was a disappointment, and his goodness was a weakness. He watches teenagers play in Washington Square Park, tourists crawling to the nearest safe spots, and ice skaters somehow skating this late at night/early in the morning.

He swings off of the nearest building, listening out for an intel on Beck and he races through Manhattan. It’s an obstacle course for Beck, but not for Peter.

He hears a nearby construction site and a low groaning, something not good. If he reaches these construction sites with free equipment lying around for him to use, he needs to stop him in time before doing anything too drastic. He’s hoping his setup is randomized drones, secured away from the population like in the terminal he last fought him in.

But he knows this is highly unlikely.

Spider-Man finds Beck easily, scanning the construction site for any heat signatures, easily finding him and the drones. How he wanted to be found, near the heart of Manhattan.

“I must be honest, I am so glad to see you again, Petey,” Beck says, voice distorted and warped while he slowly walks further into the construction site, mapping each drop to the floor below or opening above, and each window covered in tarp. “My abilities, my talent, they can’t be stolen from me again.”

Peter turns, scanning via his suit for any signs of Beck, but his ocular scans come back distorted and something lands in front of him, his senses screaming at him at the last possible second and he stumbles into the ground.

Beck’s voice disappears further into the building, and he tries to follow it. He veers left, in a crouch and stumbles into storage bins. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Admittedly, not for too long, but long enough.”

Peter’s warped back into the city, green gases swirling in the air and black fog consuming the city. No matter how hard it is to stay grounded, he stumbles into the nearest buildings, cars, and people.

“It’s not real,” he whispers to himself, not quite believing it.

“It’s going to be a shame when many people here will have to die, with Spider-Man buried in the snow,” his voice rings to his right, then above him. He sees Beck walking in the shadows of the plot, he follows as closely behind as he can.

Beck disappears above him, and he launches webs onto the nearest pillar, beaming up to the next floor. He leads himself through a new haze of fog, it spans wide and far and out into the real city where real residents live. He runs down a narrow hall, turning a corner into a wider area and sees Beck leading himself outside. He’s a few stories up, and can see Beck standing one story up from the ground.

“Stark wanted to use me. He did use me. Now, your precious lawyers want to destroy my life,” Beck sounds echoey, and it’s freaking him out, because how far away is everybody? Does he need to contact anyone else, like the PD?

“And where were you, Peter?” Beck asks, voice rising and thunderous, “ Living lavishly, spoiled, wealthily like a trust fund kid.”

Spider-Man jumps another floor down, sending another array of webs around the pillars of the building. He placed webbing on all three floors, following Beck’s path back down into the city where the lights will go dark.

“You knew what you were in for, kid, yet you fled,” Beck says bitterly, and he watches the green mist form back around him in his signature suit and helmet. “You couldn’t save yourself, you’re a cancer spreading in this city.”

“You will be exiled for what you did to me, and there will be no return back this time. You will have nobody to save you from your own track record.”

He internally yells, finding another structure to throw his webs. He needs a netting for when the infrastructure falls, undoing Mysterio’s work.

It’s dark, snow flurries escape from outside the plot, and Peter stills once he sees a pile of dead bodies in front of him. He can’t see his city like this, he refuses to get to this aftermath. He turns and runs to a quick stop in front of Beck on the walkway outside.

“I will bring this entire city down, do NOT underestimate me!” Mysterio shouts into the sky, the snow falling heavier into the city illuminated by the glow of the pink sunrise. “Just watch me do it.”

“I won’t let you!” Spider-Man yells, attacking the first drone Mysterio sets in front of him. He casts his webs onto it, launching it into Mysterio. He hears yelps from below, hoping everyone takes the hint and leaves, no matter their commute.

“I said I WILL destroy your city,” Mysterio outcries, sending a thunderous wave of force into the ground, shaking the perimeter and the building’s core.

“ Uh-oh, ” he panics, flipping off the ground and avoiding the skittering and electrical impulses he sends waves of. He’s electrocuted, and he scrambles back far, watching big chunks of cement fall off of each floor's foundation, and he gasps as he tries to catch each piece before it lands onto the street below.

They’re on top of the high rise now, the top of U.N. headquarters, right at the edge. He gasps, watching the plot they were just in a few moments ago crumble to the ground. The screams from the street below ache his bones, and he’s too far away, no—

He’s right inside, but he can’t fucking see where he is, if he walks forward he’ll fall off the building, he’s sure of it. There aren’t any grips for his webs, and he shakes along with the front. There’s more cold wind, sending chills throughout his body. He sees May holding onto the edge of the building, he recognizes her rings. Her fingers desperately cling for life, her blood curdling screams rush into his ears. Everything below them is so small, and he steps closer to the edge of the building where the snow drifts down below them.

This isn’t real.

Beck is playing him, again, and he’s somehow winning right now. He sucks a breath in through his nose, shuts his eyes, and remembers the fate of New York is in his hands. It’s out of Tony’s, out of the PD’s, out of everyone else’s hands but his. It’s his uphill battle, and he hopes the boulder doesn’t fall over the edge.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he aims his arms nefariously to catch each boulder, hears each gust of wind and each terrifying pull of gravity giving the boulder more energy, and he strikes each boulder to stop from collapsing the building.

Mysterio’s making him vulnerable again, and the curtain’s close in front of him. He sprints into the dark before anything can appear, thwipping his webs out into the Manhattan buildings now that the construction site is taken care of.

He listens out for Beck, listening to the buzzing carrying him away in real life, making the city more vulnerable the further he goes.

May is counting on him. She was certain he was having a paranoid episode, and it probably contributed to what he saw, but they’re counting on him. The real Mysterio is right here, heart drumming wildly from his adrenaline. He has no room for error again/

He ignores an incoming phone call from Matt in his mask, catching up to Mysterio transporting to below the Chrysler building. He thrusts his entire body into the velocity of his webs, falling dangerously slow to the ground and ascends straight into the heavy snow.

Spider-Man catches up to Beck on a new rooftop, taking a giant leap off of the Chrysler building to the supporting one below. He glides, landing on the rooftop. He’ll never be tired of the feeling of falling, the snow emulating the act even more and he moves faster.

He runs into him from above, tackling Mysterio to the ground.

Mysterio’s upgraded tech clatters across the ground, and the storm does not clear at all. None of the hail stops, the buildings shake in anticipation for a disastrous fall. Peter sees stars when he swings his arm back, landing a punch on him and immediately getting striked in the head by a drone.

Beck grabs Peter by the neck, using his size on him to slam his head back into the brick wall of the building. He kicks himself off the wall, tackling him and hits him. He strikes, producing red, blue, and purple contusions that the snow can’t cover now. He attempts to yank his helmet off to strike more skin, avoiding drone strikes surrounding him.

“She’s ready!” Mysterio shouts, shoving Spider-Man off and he’s too frozen to strike any of the drones now in formation, in an arrow.

Like a deck of cards shuffling, he watches a new scene in front of him, where his webbing failed and crushed a few dozen meters of buildings crushed under rubble, dust and snow swirling in the sky while the city bursts into haunting tears.

Spider-Man quickly recovers, shaking under his webbing that attaches to the drones, flying at full force. He tries to web them all up, but they relentlessly demolish and set flame to each high-rise nearby. He watches the city crumble, the tarmac of the streets withering under destruction, and he watches helpless people fall into these abysses along with cars and tons of snow, and he tugs on his webs.

“S..See, I was ri—ght, I will kill everyone you love— we will be back.”

He stops one drone, but halts to a stop when the drones crash into another building. He hooks Beck’s suit into a drone, finally having the upperhand and more leverage on the older man. He uses his free hand to grab the helmet, slamming his face into the drone repeatedly, watching the glass break and shatter, cutting him up.

Peter continues to land blows to the face, red blooming and turning to blues and purples around his face. His nose is bloodied, his mouth is ripped apart, and glass shards cut him further. He hopes his head slumps forward, watching an avalanche in the distance makes it way towards fucking Manhattan. His own chest flickers in pain, and he looks down to see the suit torn in half at his chest to reveal a pool of blood thickening. He checks to see if Beck is unconscious, they can hardly hold onto the crashing drones in flight.

He presses the controls, any, hoping to override his coding and deactivate them. This is all too familiar, he must be behind him, waiting. He’s hauled through the sky, grazed against each apartment complex and school and office buildings. He’s woozy, spinning in the air at a high velocity and they begin to crash head-on into FEAST, and his heart lurches.

He sees black.

He’s buried deep in the snow, searching for a pocket of air to breathe through and begin digging from. He can’t feel his hands, but he blindly flops around, trying his hardest to hold his screaming back and failing. His suit is soaked through, offline, and the seams tore and burned his skin with pure frozen snow.

He gasped, not remembering if Matt called back or not, did he ever answer the call? Was the call an illusion? He hears more blood curdling screams surrounding him, and this is real. Not an illusion. Real, real, or.. Fake?

He screams into the dark, the irony of the white-reflecing snow drenching him in blackness. Pounding fear in his body, his veins giving up on him, his cells killing him. Frozen. Only fear courses through each neuron and each cell.

Not knowing if Beck destroyed his city, his family—

He needs out, maybe this is an illusion. Is he back to a few months ago, not believing anything is real? He didn’t see Beck, but he heard him, he should be dead from those drones.

He stares into the finally relenting sky, wondering if he escaped his sisyphus destiny. His vision falls into another illusion, everything’s black, but no this is real, he’s real. He succumbs to exhaustion instead.

His body feels too heavy, he slumps down weakly and lies on his left side.

“I just said, found him outside of FEAST--”

“And what the hell were you doing there?--”

“Does it matter? I called him, he ignored me, and we knew the consequences when we agreed to take on this case--”

“Matt, it’s alright. Foggy, take a breath. You both handled it well.”

He’s in a car. The low hum soothes his aching body and it smells like clorox and blood in here.

“He lost a lot of blood on the scene, he’s hypothermic, for hell’s sake! Do not antagonize me right now.--”

“—We’re not!—“

“He’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. Matt, this is extraordinarily worse than when I found you half dead on your couch, already writing your eulogy because I didn’t think I could save you. You were doing it all alone, and I—“

He hears cloth moving around, probably a hand rubbing their back.

“We have it handled.”

“What do you mean handled?! You mean a just as self-sacrificial vigilante clad in red that’s a total maniac? Possible psychopath mercenary? With pool in their name?!”

“Foggy, calm down before your artery bursts.”

Pans clattering and humans talking around him awoke him, and he could’ve sworn he was just at Nelson and Murdock’s law firm in search of a first-aid kit. The talking is what he becomes most aware of when he returns slowly to consciousness, able to feel his limbs.

“Hmfh,” he hums, burying himself further into the warmer clothing he’s wearing and the familiar Hello Kitty blanket a 6 year old he knows owns. The pillows feel like homes, though.

“Welcome back, walking dead,” Tony greets, waving someone over from beside him. He’s walking in from around the corner where the kitchen is, a familiar smell of his favorite chocolate babka simmering through the air. Tony sits down beside him, feeling the couch cushion sink down. He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his shoulder and sighing. Peter props himself up on one elbow, his smile returning when he sees May run into the room and tackle him into the couch cushions with a hug.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you, honey,” May tears up, pulling back to take a closer look at him. He’s hyper aware of his surroundings, his memories slowly fade back in. He sees the confusion run across her face, and she makes no move to bring it up. “You did so good.”

The next few days result in the same ways. He’s bedbound for now, receiving updates by his own lawyers that the city isn’t suing him for damages this time and that local vigilantes and authorities are cleaning up the city. He was an open book to his family and friends, splayed out for all of them to pick, poke, and prod at.

Even with the best intentions, they were overbearing.

He spent most of his newfound freetime continuing his part-time jobs. His photography job at the Daily Bugle is allowing him, graciously, to write articles in the meantime he’s out of photo-commission. He picked up writing articles for Nelson and Murdock, who were still a mess.

He and May both had many emotions over this, what this meant for his recovery, and how he won’t put his recovery on the back-burner.

They all avoid talking about him. Where he is, what happened. News articles never seem to reach him.

Closer to Christmas during the time his friends celebrated, he can’t help but feel isolated and the paranoia coils through him once again. He needs to begin recovery slowly, because he can’t handle being separated from Tony, Pepper, and Morgan currently, and especially May when she leaves for work or to pick up groceries.

Despite receiving a scholarship to MIT, all of his trauma probably counts out any chance of college anytime soon. He doubts he can go back to being a normal person, preparing every possible scenario for when he returns, and he feels like begging on his knees for help. He and May pass more time saving up for tuition money, just in case.

He’s safe now. He’s home. He waits for the other shoe to drop. For the boulder to fall off the top of the cliff.

[caffeinetheory]

Everything Stays

Big thanks to @theatreandcomicfreak for helping me work out my idea!! Can’t thank you enough <3<3<3 

This is a Jasonette song fic to Everything Stays from Adventure Time, had this idea like a week ago and I’ve been working on it for almost 2 days now. It is the longest thing I’ve written so i hope you enjoy, and I didn’t check over it to much so sorry if there are many errors, but otherwise I hope y’all enjoy :>

///

Here she stood, it made it all to real. ‘Here lies Jason Todd, may he finally have peace’ A sob wrecked her small frame, Marinette no longer had an excuse to accept the inevitable. Years had past yet she still didn’t want to believe he was gone, it still feels like yesterday when she first met the boy with attachment issues. 

It was a busy day in the bakery, the family was preparing for the massive gala they were catering. Marinette was now 12 so her parents let her help with preparations, they would need all hands on deck, this wasn’t any gala it was the Wayne Gala. Bruce Wayne himself had come in with the request a few months prior, it was to celebrate some achievement the Paris branch had achieved, it was something had gone completely over Marinette’s head at the time, she was just happy to help her stressed parents. The gala was tomorrow and they were finishing the decoration on the treats, everything from cupcakes and small pastries to thousands of macaroons still needed the finishing touches. To say it was hectic would be an understatement but the family had done it, 2 am everything was ready for transport to the venue. 

Mari had dressed in a simple but elegant baby pink gown for the gala, her parents had dressed in formal attire with pink accents to match their branding. After the family with the help of the buildings staff set up Sabine and Tom decided to let Mari enjoy the gala, all the dresses of the high class event was sure to be an inspiration to the little fashion designer. As the doors opened to the massive ballroom a little girl was sitting off to the side to absorbed in drawing designs out of the Gothic architecture to notice. The gentle music was calming and helped inspire her more, once she had filled many pages she looked up and it was then the man himself made his grand entrance.

Bruce Wayne made an extravagant entrance after finally getting his new ward to put on his clothes presentably. Jason was hiding behind him, he had been living with Bruce for a few months now but that didn’t mean he was used to the attention, let alone positive attention.  The large crowds combined with Dick not being there, Jason clung to his pseudo-brother like a lifeline, was getting to the young boy. Blue eyes surveyed the room, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to hide or sneak out, currently no luck came his way as he clung to Bruce’s leg, the older gentleman lightly petting his head, noting the kid’s distress. 

Bruce quickly looked over the room, remembering that a little girl around Jason’s age was here with her parents who were catering. The parents seemed kind enough so when he spotted their child he subtly pointed Jason her way right as she was getting up. Jason nodded and while reluctant to leave the one person he knew, made a beeline to the wall where the small girl was. She had just finished smoothing out her dress when Jason reached her. Hand on the wall, slightly out of breath, he looked at her. A kind smile graced her lip, her hand already out, “Hi, I’m Marinette.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship, while it lasted at least, the two were attached at the hip for the rest of his stay in Paris. She made him feel at ease and Mari was more than happy to make a new friend her age. The pair spent hours getting to know each other and became inseparable. It was a pleasant surprise for both sets of guardians, but not an unwelcome one. The call Dick got the night of the gala was not the one he expected, but one of Jason telling him all about the kind girl who told him stories about her life. Dick was happy Jason was able to find someone to be with while he wasn’t able to make it due to classes starting up again. When the Wayne’s had to go back to Gotham tears were shed, but promises to talk everyday and tight hugs were shared. 

It wasn’t until almost two and a half years later that Marinette’s heart broke. She had been trying to contact him for a few weeks with no response, not totally unusual but still worrying, that she finally got a response that broke her. The news was playing in the background, but she couldn't hear it anymore, “Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne has died today as a result of fatal injuries” that was all she needed to hear to break down. She couldn't look at the screen when they showed his face, she didn’t read the letters she got from the Waynes, or acknowledge the invitation to his funeral. The pile was growing on her desk, the dust forming a noticeable layer, she couldn’t, it she did it would be all to real. For over a month she didn’t leave her room, her sobs could be heard from the living room. It took her almost two months before she would return to school, two weeks more before she said a real sentence to anyone besides her parents. Everyone who knew the sunshine that was Marinette was worried about her but didn’t want to make it worse so they just gave silent hugs and support where they could. Three and a half months after the funeral she was more or less back to her former self, though anyone who knew her before knew what things to avoid. 

Six months later, she had caught up on all the work she missed and the new school year was starting Mari saved the life of an old man by the bakery on her way to class. It was later that day Ladybug and Chat Noir made their first appearance, almost 16 and she was tasked with saving the city she loved from a maniac who controlled people with butterflies and bad emotions. It was a good thing she learned how to keep her emotions in check before she was given this mantle. Chat and Ladybug decided to break to rule of not knowing each other's identities after it was clear they would need more help and had to call on other heroes. Fu wasn't happy about it but trusted their decision, it was about this time he started to teach Marinette how to become the next Guardian. 

Six months after becoming heros the duo knew each other’s identities, a year after there was a team of full time heros. It was after they had been fighting for over a year and a half that the team agreed they needed more than themselves, they called the Justice League. At first they were ignored but through persistence they got the back up they needed. Two and a half years after becoming Ladybug Hawk Moth was tracked down and  in cuffs before he could transform. The Watch Tower had been monitoring the Akumas and traced his location down to the Agreste manor, Nathile had put up no fight, and gave herself willingly to the authorities. 

Three years had passed since she had been given earrings that changed her life when a note appeared on her balcony inviting her to the Watch Tower. At 19 years old Marinette was apart of the Justice League, the rest of her team had moved on. They had lives to live, and while they didn’t regret being heroes they had other obligations. Adrien fell off the map with some help, he didn’t want or need the spotlight any more he was done, Luka was Touring with Jagged Stone, Kagami had become a world class fencer and had to carry on her family name, Alya was becoming the next Nadja so she was the face of the Tv network, Nino was well on his way to being a famous DJ, Alix had extreme sports to compete in and street art to make, Cholé had began to take over the hotel business and working to make it international, Kim was an Olympic swimmer and Max was on his way to being a  head engineer at one of the leading technology companies in the world. Marinette was the Guardian and while they all said they would continue to help she couldn’t ask them to do that. 

For the next 2 years she spent most of her time at the Tower, slowly building money from commissions to buy a house of her own. MDC was known around the world and was commission only, you had to know someone who knew someone to even get a chance to get a design. Close to her 22nd birthday she finally started to look for a place of her own, she needed a proper place for the Kawmi after all. After many long nights Marientte decided to move to the last place she knew he was. It hurt but she had put it off long enough, and to Gotham she went.

When she told Batman where she planned to move he was surprised initially but helped her find a place to call home. She ended up settling on a home in the outskirts of the city, isolated enough for privacy but plenty of room and ways to get to the city. When Bruce got a call from the girl about 2 weeks after her 22nd birthday asking if he could tell her where Jason was he was shocked to say the least. ‘Does she know’ was the first thing going through his head, granted it had been almost 4 years since Jason had come back from the dead but as far as he knew, no one outside of the BatFam inner circles and the Outlaws knew that. The fact that she hadn’t gone to the funeral and never mentioned him until now perplexed him as well, what had suddenly changed. Sure both had learned the other’s identity when she joined the League but that was a while ago, why now. The choked sobs brought him back to reality and the young women on the other side of the line, he gave her directions to the former grave. They left it there because they couldn’t bring it in them to remove it, it was a reminder.

Let’s go in the garden

Today was the day Marinette told herself. It had been years, she could do it, no matter how hard it was. She picked some marigolds, lilies and roses before leaving her home. If she was going to do this she might as well bring something to leave there. Marigolds, why did she ever plant those, must have been because subconsciously it was something he always called her. A single tear fell down her cheek before she wiped it away and tried to smile.

You’ll find something waiting

Right there where you left it lying upside down

Marinette’s small bag didn’t hold much; just her keys, phone, some tissues and the letters finally opened. She had finally opened them the day she asked Bruce where she could see him again, but couldn’t make herself read them until the night before. She cried reading about it again, condolences and an open invitation to stay with the Waynes for a while if she needed to. She felt 15 again, crying alone in her room. Only this time she wasn’t alone, she had the Kwamis and they helped her sleep. The tear stains still noticeable on the one she couldn’t bear to open from Jason himself. It was to be given to her if he ever died, she still wasn’t ready to full accept he was gone. She may be older but it still felt like there was a hoel in her heart that she couldn’t fill.

When you finally find it, you’ll see how it’s faded

The underside is lighter when you turn it around

Marinette finally did it, the tall gates towered over her. She hesitated as she reached to open the last barrier keeping her from the inevitable. A hand absentmindedly went to the earrings. She had thought about it once, using the wish, but she knew better. The cost could have been anything and while she missed him she wasn’t that selfish. How was she to know that is even what he wanted, it wasn’t right so she only had the thought once on the anniversary of his death after she found out about the wish. 

Everything stays right where you left it

The metal was cold when her hand finally made contact, this was happening. Almost 6 years after and she was finally going to have to admit it to herself. But it was okay, that is what he would want, wasn’t it? Shaking her head before she went down that rabbit hole again she followed the cobblestone path to the Wayne plot of the cemetery. No backing out now. The whole area was varying states of care, you could tell who had family that loved them and who was the last of the line. Many headstones had vines covering them, clearly older than the pristine graves with fresh flowers and candles still burning. How the candle stays lit in a place where rain seemed more common than the sun she wouldn't know. 

Everything stays 

The sizable plot had a small black fence around it. There were five distinctive burials. The tomb of Martha and Thomas Wayne was white and while simple it was elegant. Not a single crack and a single dying rose laid beneath the inscription ‘May Martha and Thomas Wayne rest in peace, hand in hand forever’, it was sweet. Truly loving parents taken from this world to soon. Next to the tomb was a far more simple Romanian burial, the grass still growing a healthy green. Mary and John buried how they would have been back in their home land, Bruce insisted they rest in the same place his family did. It was the day it was clear how much Bruce really valued family. 

But it still changes

Mari finally brought herself to look at the last grave.  ‘Here lies Jason Todd, may he finally have peace,’ seeing the words made her break down. It was all to real, the dirt was even looking recently moved. Her sobs must have been heard from the other side of Gotham, her legs gave out. Lightly tracing his name she finally let out everything she had been holding on to for years. Her broken heart was allowed to properly feel the hurt it had locked away so long ago. The flowers forgotten by her side, she stayed kneeling on the fresh dirt crying her eyes out for what must have been hours before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways, when everything stays

Dick Grayson was doing his monthly flower change at the graves when he heard broken sobbing. His slow pace suddenly was a light jog, someone sounded broken, he had to help. Turning the corner he saw the unmistakable midnight hair and crumpled figure of the one person he never thought he’d see again in civilian life, let alone here. The one place he swore she’d never be, on his brother’s grave. He did the one thing he could think of and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair from her tear stained face and pulled her into a comforting hug. “It’s good to see you again Mari,” she held him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to this realm. 

Let’s go in the garden

“You want to come back to the manor with me, I’m sure Bruce would love to see you again. Alfred too,” her small head nod and last sniffles was enough of a confirmation to him. Helping her up, Dick took Mari’s hand and lead her to his car. During the ride he brought her up to speed about the new members, (Tim, Damian, Stephine, Cass), about how many pets they had, about really anything in their lives. Throughout she was slowly perking up again, laughing at his anecdotes about his siblings, completely avoiding bringing up Jason. Dick had already warned those at the Manor she was coming with him, and not to mention Jason.  By the time they had arrived everyone was filled in and Mari had a smile on her face and a soft laugh as she heard about Damian bringing a cow home.

You’ll find something waiting

The movement the dark wooden doors opened Mari was engulfed with the smell of fresh cookies and a welcoming embrace of none other than Alfred. “Long time no see,” she patted his back and she returned the hug, the slight guilt in her tone immediately washed away when he held her tighter. 

The family led her to the living room, she meets the other members of the house she was told about in her way there. Everyone was kind in their own ways, though those who had not heard of her before that day were wary of the newcomer. She livened up the room, it seemed that comfort and warmth followed her wherever she went. Alfred had brought tea and cookies for everyone and they talked about where life had taken them since they had last talked, then the topic came up.

Right there where you left it lying upside down

Damian didn’t mean to make the slip août Jason being a prick, he really hadn’t but the second Mari quieted he knew he said something he shouldn’t have. ‘How you you know’ was all that went through her mind, but quickly brushed the thought off, this could help. Everyone in the room held their breath as they waited to see how she would act, Dick had warned them and they didn’t understand until now. To say they were surprised when she had a small smile on her face after whipping a single tear would be an understatement. 

When you finally find it, you’ll see how it’s faded

Marinette started to tell stories of her and Jason, about their close friendship. Everyone who knew the edgy man in question were in awe that he was once a ‘normal’ kid without problems expressing his feelings. She told them about the late night calls, the constant letters and gifts they would send each other. She spoke so roundly of him they couldn’t figure out why she had never come up until Dick had found her at his grave, what fallout must have happened caused her name to never be said, why were Alfred and Dick so happy to see her, so many questions went through the newer members’ heads.

The underside is lighter when you turn it around

Throughout her stories she had started to mess with the chain around her neck, it was going to need to be replaced soon, the daily wear was getting to it. When Marinette finally took it out to show, Dick’s eyes widened, he knew pendant. Mari gave it a sad smile before exhaling it was the last thing she had of him, it was the thing she valued most. It was the last gift he had sent her, a silver pendant with a warn robin resting on a blossom branch. Dick had helped Jason pick that out so many years ago. She told the group how she never took it off, only to fix the chain or replace it.  Eventually she admitted, both to herself and the people in the room, her still existing feeling, “I think that’s why I couldn’t let it be real, let him go… I always wanted to be by his side, with him through thick and thin.”

Everything stays right where you left it

Everyone in the room heard the helmet thump when it hit the hardwood floors. Standing in the doorway was one Red Hood, domino mask still on with his mouth hanging open wide. Marinette was quickly out of her seat ready to strike should he pose a threat, but Dick’s gentle hand on her shoulder made her relax slightly, still not taking her eyes off of the new comer. “Jay-bird…” Dick wasn’t able to finish what he was saying or stop her when Mari launched herself at Jason, crying openingly again as she held onto him for dear life. 

Everything stays 

After the initial shock of finally seeing her again he returned the hold, just as strong petting her hair lightly, “I’m here, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” the pair didn’t care to notice when the rest of the Waynes left the room to give them privacy, nor did they care. They were finally in each other’s arms after so long, the dam broke all over again for Mari but this time her tears were joyous, her Jay was back in her arms. It didn’t matter how what mattered was he was there and he was real, actually here not some joke or illusion but the real thing, nothing would take him from her again if she had a say about it.

But it still changes

Finally pulling back to look at each other they took in the small changes. Marinette’s hair was longer and to her mid back hanging in a low ponytail, her freckles seemed more prominent. She stood tall and confident, it was clear she was built and while the years had been tough she had come out stronger because of it. Her eyes were still the most beautiful blue Jason had ever seen. Jason had become tall and puberty did him many favors. His muscles would show in pretty much any shirt he wore. And while those were big changes the most noticeable to Mari was the unnatural white streak in the inky mess of hair he had and the supernatural green that seemed to move in his eyes. It was still him though, nothing could change the fact he was still the Jason Mari had fallen for and couldn’t bring herself to let go.

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

Mari took his hand, leading him to the couch so they could properly catch up. The helmet forgotten and domino mask on the coffee table. If anyone had walked in they didn’t stay. They talked for hours and hours, the sun was rising by the time Mari had yawned for the first time, it had been a long day. “I could take you home if you’d like,” reluctant to see her leave. “Why would I go anywhere, you’re right here,” she made herself at home on his chest snuggling ever slightly closer. The light breathing lulled Jason to sleep not long after. 

In little ways, when everything stays

Tim was the one who found the pair sleeping, in what looked like the first time in a while, peacefully. Sneakily taking a picture to send to the family chat he left the room to get more coffee, they deserved to sleep.

Marinette woke up to slight nudging and warmth, “Come on Mari, we should eat.” Startled she jumped up, almost hitting the table, forgetting where she was for a second she panicked but seeing his face brought back memories from the night before. “Oh thank god it’s you,” and with that she pulled them both in the direction of what smelled like food. Alfred had left out some food for the two before going out for the day. Marinette left after eating leaving her phone number with him and in return she got a small business card from him.

Do down to the ocean

Two days later and Marinette sat kicking her legs of the dock in the warehouse district. The card just told her to wait on this dock today and to be there by 6 in something casual but flexible. Is here she sat, waiting with light blue jeans, black vans and a dark red hoodie, music played in her ear as she waited. Being early she had nothing to worry about, she trusted he’d show up and it’s not like if something did happen she couldn’t protect herself.

They crystal tide is rising

The cargo ship in the dock next to the one she was sitting on was almost finished unloading its crates. A horn behind her brought her out of her thoughts, a motorcycle was waiting for her expectantly.

The waters’ gotten higher as the shore washes out

Grabbing the extra black helmet Mari held on tight to the person already on the bike. Once she was secure they sped off down the docks and to the amusement park all the while she was having the time of her life. Speed was something she loved and he gave it to her, taking the scenic route so they admire the view of the ocean and enjoy the ride.

Keep your eyes wide open, even when the sun is blazin’

The moon controls the tide, it can cause you to drown

Skitting to a stop in front of the waterfront amusement park Jason took off his helmet, a sly smirk as he watched Mari jump up and down in excitement. “That was the most fun I've had in years!!!” she handed him the helmet taking in the lights of the park, they were like stars on the dark night sky, shining in a rainbow of colors. “Well Cream Puff, we are just beginning, I got a lot of missed dates to make up to you,” Jason slung an arm around her shoulders and lead her into the park. They stayed up all night playing the carnival style games, winning each other prizes until they couldn't hold any more. As the sun rose they ended up back at Mari’s home collapsing on her bed in a fit of giggles, it was just like old times. Their prizes surrounding them as the two as they looked in each others eyes, they felt like they were 14 again. Maybe they could make this work, not maybe they would.

Everything stays, right where you’ve left it

Everything stays, but it still changes

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways

When everything stays

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: Luka's replaced his broken guitar with a kazoo. Marinette realizes just how important that guitar was to their burgeoning relationship....Maybe she should've made sure no one was around before she ranted about that to Tikki.(Set during/after the end of Miracle Queen)

Word Count: 2569 | Chapter 1/2

Notes: No Luka bashing is intended with this fic, but it is lovesquare endgame Disclaimer: I love kazoos and if someone tried to woo me with a kazoo I would probably swoon. Rip to Marinette but I’m different Disclaimer 2: I didn't come up with the idea for kazooka, @bugaboo-n-bananoir did in this post ). sorry for all the shoutouts lately bud lol you're just an inspiration Special thanks to @botherkupo for betareading!

XXX

“Are you okay?”  Luka asked when Marinette returned from getting ice cream.

It took some effort to pry her gaze away from where Adrien and Kagami were sharing at the other end of the ledge, but she promised herself she wouldn’t be jealous.  

...Or at least, she wouldn’t show it this time.  Both of them were her friends, and they deserved to be happy with each other.  

Did that mean she was okay?  No, not really.  But she didn’t really want to get into that, especially since Luka had already seen her so vulnerable last time.

“So, uh… where’s your guitar?”  she asked instead.

“Oh.”  Luka blinked, as if surprised his instrument wasn’t there either.  “Remember the last time I saw you?  When you were… crying in the street?”

She’d really been hoping he forgot about that.  It definitely wasn’t her most awkward moment, but Adrien at least tended to ignore the worst of hers.  He hadn’t even breathed a word about the whole constipation incident.

But comparing Luka and Adrien wasn’t fair to either of them.  

She shook her head.  “Um, what about it?”

“I dropped my bike when I went to hug you.  My guitar fell out of the basket and… yeah.”  He moved his hands as if to strum a chord, only to slump when they just stroked the air.

“Oh, Luka, I’m so sorry.”  She winced.  She knew his guitar was basically an extension of himself; she hadn’t intended for him to sacrifice it for her.  Was she really that important to him?

“It’s alright.  I’ve almost saved up for a new one.”  He shrugged.

She couldn’t tell if he was actually alright or if he was just faking.  “Well, I’m still sorry.”

“It really is alright.  You’re the music that’s been playing for me since we met, anyway.”

She blushed and looked away.  Luka had always been more forward, but she really didn’t know how she felt about his love confessions, especially considering…

No, she wasn’t going to glance back towards Adrien.  (Not that she could do that subtly, with all their classmates packed between them.)

But the point was, she couldn’t return Luka’s confession while her heart still hung somewhere in the balance.  She could try to move on—she should try to move on—but no matter what Luka said, she didn’t want him to feel stuck as a second choice.

“Well, um… thanks, I guess.” 

She took a bite of her raspberry ice cream to fill the awkward silence.  Normally his guitar did that.  Ivan’s hand drum sort of helped, but it was too far away (and too sporadic) for her to pretend she was focused on his music.

“I guess you can’t play that song for me now,” she added when he didn’t speak up.  It was too bad, because she thought she might actually want to hear it, if only to give them something to connect over.

Had she really listened to his music that often?  It was painfully obvious now that his guitar was absent.

“Were you ready to hear it?”  Hhe asked.  “I still can, if you’d like.”

Her head tilted, her eyebrows scrunching together.  “But you don’t have your guitar.  Unless you’re going to borrow Ivan’s drum.”

He chuckled a little at that.  “I’ve got something else.”

His hand reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out…

“Is that a kazoo?”  

Was this a joke?  Was he playing a joke on her?  He’d never shown that much of a sense of humor before.  If Juleka hadn’t been in the middle of the group sharing ice cream with Rose, Marinette would’ve flagged her down for help.

“Yep.  Juleka got it for me as a replacement present, you know, until I can pay for my new guitar.”

“Oh.”  She forced a grin.  “That’s… sweet of her.”

So no help from Juleka then.  Maybe this wasn’t such a big deal.  Maybe Luka would be an amazing kazoo player, and sweep her off her feet with his buzzing melody and help her forget all about Adrien and— 

Yeah, even her normally-vivid daydream couldn’t paint that picture.

“It really is.  She’s the best.”  He smiled.  She hadn’t heard him talk about Juleka often, honestly.  It was a little weird to remember that he was her friend’s older brother, but Juleka hadn’t seemed to mind Luka showing an interest in her.  

Well, unless the kazoo was more of a warning than a present.  But that was branching into conspiracy theory territory.

“Are you going to play it, then?”  she asked before she could lose her nerve.  Maybe hearing the melody, even if just on the kazoo, would give her the answers her heart was looking for.

“Right.”  He nodded and raised the blue piece of plastic to his lips.

She didn’t wince at the first high-pitched buzz.  She might have just… cringed a little.  Kazoos weren’t really meant to be played at close distance—at least that’s what she assumed, because could anyone really want to unironically listen to that?

The melody was… hard to pick out with all the screeching.  She tried to smile through it—he’d written this for her, and it wasn’t really meant to be played on the kazoo—but then Marc and Nathaniel looked up in shock-slash-horror, and Mylene just about fumbled her ice cream into the river, and Juleka let out an uncharacteristically loud cackle.

Luka’s playing petered out with a sad doot doot.  He still looked up at her expectantly.

And because he was staring at her, of course the rest of their group did too.  Including Adrien, the green mint of his ice cream still staining his lower lip.

“Um… that was…” Marinette’s face burned as she sprung to her feet.  “W-well!  Look at that I have to go—buy a birthday present for my grandpa’s mouse!”  Wait, had she used that one before?  It didn’t matter, her legs were already wooshing her away, leaving only the cherry from the top of her ice cream behind.

She hurriedly shoved the rest of her ice cream into her mouth to cool her burning face.  That was… probably an overreaction.  Luka had just tried to play her a song.  It wasn’t her that everyone else was laughing at.

A horrible feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just the odd mix of raspberry and cotton candy ice cream.  She should’ve stayed to cheer him up, right?  

“Tikki, what’s wrong with me?”  She groaned, dropping her forehead against the side of the alley.  “Why did I run away like that?  I probably made Luka hate me!”

The kwami flew out from her purse.  “I don’t think he can hate you, Marinette.  He still liked you even when he knew you were in love with Adrien.”

“For some reason.”  She sighed.

“Do you want him to like you?”  Tikki prodded gently.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”  She bonked her head against the wall again. Ow.  “He likes me, and he’s nice, and we… have absolutely nothing in common.”

There.  She admitted it.  They both liked Jagged Stone, but lots of people liked Jagged Stone.

(Adrien liked Jagged Stone.  He’d asked for her autograph, and she’d just about melted.)

What she felt with Luka was nothing like that.  It was nervous usually, until he started playing his guitar.  The chords, if simple, were still soothing.

“Did I just think he made me comfortable because he played the guitar?  Am I really that shallow?”

“Of course you aren’t.”  Tikki rubbed her cheek to hers.  “A boy liked you, and it sounds like you liked him at least a little bit.  Even if it was mostly because he played guitar.”

Marinette groaned.

“But now he plays the kazoo and I don’t want to hear his song!  And I really can’t think of anything else we have to talk about.  And I won’t go on dates with him and move on from Adrien and I’ll end up old and alone with a tarantula instead of a hamster and—”

“Marinette, you know that’s not going to happen.”  Tikki patted her face again.  “There are plenty of other boys besides Adrien and Luka.  And you don’t have to move on with a boy.  You have plenty of time to just be you.  Maybe that’s for the best, with you being the guardian now.”

“Don’t remind me.”  She squeezed her eyes shut.  She wished she had someone to rely on as the guardian.  Luka had been there that one time when she couldn’t take it anymore, but she couldn’t actually tell him anything.  If only she could talk to…

“Chat Noir,” she whispered, eyes going wide.

“What?”  

She paced back and forth across the width of the alley.  “I want to talk to Chat.  I can do that now, can’t I?  I’m the guardian.  No, but Master Fu did what he did for a reason.  I can’t go sharing important secrets.  But if Fu did tell us more maybe we could’ve protected him better.”

“Um, Marinette—” 

“Either way he’s gone and I don’t know what to do, Tikki!  He didn’t finish teaching me everything and here I am worried because of a boy playing the kazoo!”

She spun, breaths coming too quickly, hoping to hear Tikki’s words of wisdom to help her calm down.

Instead, she came face to face with Adrien.  Adrien, whose eyes were practically bugging out of his head.  A cute smear of ice cream still clung to his parted lips.  That was easier to focus on than the fact that he’d almost certainly heard every word she said to Tikki.

His mouth opened and closed again.  “Uh.”

“Oh no.”

“You’re…!”

“No, no, of course I’m not!”  She waved her arms frantically.  Tikki’d had the sense to dive back into her purse, but the damage was already done.

“You’re Ladybug,” he breathed.  “It’s you.  Of course it’s you.”

Tears pricked her eyes.  One day into being the guardian, and she’d already let someone figure out her secret identity!  And it was Adrien, and while she thought he could keep a secret, she couldn’t ignore the incident with the beret, and if he told anyone and that awful future happened— 

“Marinette, hey, hey, it’s alright.”  He stepped towards her, too close, not close enough.  “I’m not going to tell anyone.  I swear.  I—I didn’t mean to.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and then I heard and I can’t unhear and—please don’t be mad.”

He looked down at her with such a distraught expression, she couldn’t imagine him ever breaking that oath.

“I’m not mad at you, Adrien.”  She bit her lip and looked down, afraid she might actually start crying if she had to see his pain any longer.  Which was ridiculous, because it was her identity that was compromised.  “You were just trying to help, and—and it’s my fault for not being careful enough.”

Her voice choked.  His arm reached towards her, hesitated, fell back to his side.  Of course he wouldn’t pull her into the hug that she craved.  He was dating Kagami now; it was surprising enough that he’d left her just to come make sure she was alright.  He really was a wonderful friend.

Maybe that was all she needed right now.

“It’s not your fault, my—Marinette.”  He swallowed.  “It could’ve happened to either of us.”

“Yes, but it’s not a big deal if someone finds out you once used the snake miraculous.  Nearly all of the other heroes were compromised yesterday, anyway.”

Her fault again.  She was back to square one, just her and Chat Noir against the world… and possibly Adrien too.  He hadn’t been revealed yesterday.  Maybe it would be worth it to give him a miraculous again?

He laughed awkwardly.  “Yeah. Of course.”

“So… yeah.”  She nodded.  “I’m just going to.  Go home now.”

Where she could cry in peace and Tikki could lecture her and she could find someone else to pass off the miracle box to because clearly she wasn’t ready, only there was no one else who could possibly do it except maybe Chat Noir, and he didn’t deserve that kind of pressure either, and— 

“Marinette, wait.”  

This time Adrien did grab her hand.  She did her best to control her flush.

“I know you didn’t want me to know, but… I’m still your friend, okay?  You can tell me anything.  Especially now, if you need someone to lean on…”

She did.  Oh, she did, and any other day she would leap headfirst into that offer.

But all she could think of now was Adrien smiling softly as he wiped ice cream from Kagami’s cheek.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t still be her friend when he was dating someone else, but she wasn’t sure her heart could take trusting him with all of her secrets except the one she’d actually wanted to tell.

She loved him.  Even now, knowing he had just become a threat to her identity, she loved him.

And it was too late to say it.

“Thank you, but I’d actually rather talk to Chat Noir right now.  I hope you’ll understand.”

He blinked and opened his mouth before shaking his head.  “Right.  Of course.  I’m glad you trust him.”

“I do.”  She looked towards the sliver of sky above the alley as hope blossomed in her.  She did trust Chat.  He would be able to help her through this, just like he’d supported her during Miracle Queen’s short reign.  “I wish he’d been the first to know my identity, but if anyone else had to… I’m glad it’s you, you know.  I lo—I trust you too.”

Really?  Now she almost said it?  He didn’t seem to notice, though.  His expression softened into a smile.

“Thank you, Marinette.  That means a lot to me.”

She smiled back, palm braced against the alley wall to make up for the weakness in her knees.

“Oh, um—is Luka alright?”  She barely remembered to ask.  It was probably the least of her worries, but it was still worth checking.  “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.  The whole kazoo thing was just���I was so embarrassed and I ran away without thinking.  He was just trying to be nice, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t like it.”

“You never seemed to have a problem telling that to Chat Noir,” he said.  Was that a hint of… jealousy she detected in his voice?  No way; she had to be imagining that.

“That’s because I know Chat Noir.  He knows I don’t return his feelings…”  she trailed off, blinking at the ground.

Chat had been the first person she wanted to talk to when she was upset.  The one who always supported her, who knew all her weaknesses and flaws and still looked at her like she’d hung the moon in the sky.  Who wouldn’t hesitate to risk everything for her, who trusted her even when she was wrong but was always, always there to make things right.  

He was the one who called her his Lady.  He was the one whose hug felt like home.  

“Marinette?”  Adrien asked.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“Oh?”

She looked up and met his eyes, and before she knew it, she was confessing to the wrong crush.

“I think I’m in love with Chat Noir.”

[andtheyweredeskmates]

In which Chat Noir is an idiot and Marinette is a really “good friend”

Oh my god I didn’t proofread this, its 6 am and I haven’t slept yet don’t judge me

Edit: I made a comic companion piece to this

It honestly started with Chat trying to be nice. He was on his way back home after an akuma attack when he saw Marinette walking and shivering in the cold.

“Cold, little lady?” Marinette gave him a disapproving look.

“NO,” she chattered. Chat chuckled and gestured to his stick.

“Wanna ride?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna bite, just hop on my back.” Marinette hesitated, but after a long moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hopped on his back .

Chat leapt from building to building, admittedly showing off a little bit. Whe he glanced back he was happy to see Marinette looking longingly at the world as it passed by.

“Liking the view?” Marinette grinned at him.

“I’ve never really gotten the chance to admire everything. I’ve passed these streets a million times but I’ve never taken to time to see how beautiful Paris really is.” Chat gaped at Marinette for a moment before abruptly turning his head back to the path ahead.

“Yeah its really something,” he said softly. He tried to think about all the times he’s hung out with Marinette at school. He’d never seen her as calm and comfortable as she was now. She had always seemed awkward and panicked. Chat had to admit that he liked seeing this side of her. When they finally made it to the balcony of Marinette’s house Chat shot her a wink.

“Hope you enjoyed the ride.” Marinette rolled her eyed.

“Thanks kitty, I’ll see you around.”

“Oh yeah?”

And just like that Marinette was as flustered as she always was.

“Um yeah, ya know, like on TV while you’re out saving the world… and stuff.” Chat laughed.

“Right, well I bid you adieu mademoiselle.” He gave her a little salute before making his way back to his own home. All he could think about was that face she made as they’d leapt around the rooftops of Paris. He hoped he’d see it again.

The next time Adrien saw Marinette as Chat, he was furious. He was tired of being cooped up at home and tired of being treated like a child. So he left. He was wandering Paris aimlessly when he saw her on the balcony. Marinette was gazing at the stars in what looked like her pajamas and it was the very same gaze she’d had when Chat had carried her across Paris. He stopped for a moment to admire her. She looked so content. Chat wanted to feel like that. More than anything. He blushed a little when Marinette noticed him giving him a little wave and a chuckle. Without even thinking he made his way to her balcony and settled atop the railing.

“Are you stalking me now kitty?”

Chat ran a clawed hand threw his hair and over his ears, throwing his head back dramatically.

“I knew you wanted to see me again.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Oh yes, my hero,” she said sarcastically. Chat grinned.

“Stargazing?”

Marinette smiled softly.

“I like looking at the stars sometimes. Gives me a little perspective. I feel like sometimes I get too caught up in my own little world.”

AS Chat looked up at the sky, he said, “Yeah I know what you mean.”

“What are you doing out here? Out on patrol?”

Chat scratched his head and looked back down apologetically.

“Not exactly, I guess I needed to get out of my own little world too.”

“Well your welcome to sit out here with me if you want, just try not to ruin the moment with stupid puns.” Chat grinned.

“Your wish is my command princess.”

There was a slight blush that appeared on Marinette’s face when he said that but Chat didn’t notice. He’d already turned his head back to the sky. They sat like that in silence for hours. Marinette slowly transitioned from standing, to sitting, to laying on her stomach until eventually she fell asleep. Chat chuckled a little as he picked her up and brought her back down into her room, placing her gently on her bed. His eyes lingered on her face for a few moments before Chat padded out of the room and made his way back home. And all he thought about the rest of the night was the face Marinette made when she was sleeping.

+

It became a regular occurrence for Chat to stop by Marinette’s house when he went out to blow off steam. She always found a way to make him feel better. He had to remind himself at school that Adrien didn’t have the same relationship with Marinette that Chat did and it bothered him. He hated that Marinette seemed so uncomfortable around him when she was able to speak so effortlessly with Chat. He tried to confront her about it subtly but he ended up more confused.

“… and that’s when Alya spilled her lemonade all over me and when I got up to clean it all up I ran right into this really popular guy from my class and I looked like an idiot and it was so embarrassing so I...” Marinette was rambling but of course Chat knew exactly what she was talking about. He decided to use this as an opportunity.

“Popular guy, huh?”

Marinette leaned back with a defeated look on her face. She groaned

“Yeah, his name is Adrien. As in Adrien freaking Agreste. The famous model.”

“Wow, you go to school with that guy huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like him?” Marinette started blushing profusely.

“I mean I like him but I don’t like him -like him, I mean, he’s just a friend- well we’re not really friends but he’s always been nice to me-“

“Mari, calm down, I just meant do you think he’s nice.” Marinette straightened up.

“Oh, yeah I do. I think he’s really thoughtful and sweet.”

Chat had no idea what to do with that information. If Marinette thought he was thoughtful and sweet then why did she always freak out around him? He had no idea how to ask why she was so weird around Adrien without giving up his identity so he just let the confusion slowly drive him insane.

+

Eventually Chat was visiting Marinette more than he wasn’t .Even Ladybug seemed to notice how quickly he was ready to race back to Marinette’s every night after patrol.

“Got any plans after this Minou?”

“Oh just gonna go see a friend.”

“Oh? Whats she like?”

“Incredible. She’s strong, she’s funny, she’s smart. Way cooler than me.”

“She sounds great Chat.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s kinda like my best friend.”

+

They talked for hours and they didn’t hold back.Sometimes he would model designs that Marinette wanted to try, sometimes Chat would sit in front of Marinette while she played with his hair and put it in braids, sometimes Chat would try out new puns and Marinette would rate them, sometimes they would talk about Hawkmoth and how they hoped he would be caught soon. Sometimes they would comfort each other.

Chat nearly lost it when he came to Marinette’s balcony and saw her red rimmed eyes.

“Mari, whats wrong?” Marinette started sobbing immediately. Without even thinking, he pulled her in for a hug and let his head settle on the top of her head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. He was a little frightened. He’d never seen Marinette like that before. Ever.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away and wiping at her eyes.

“It’s just this girl at school. She’s a liar and I can’t stand it so I tried to call her out but no one would believe me. They all told me that I was just jealous and it was my own friends and I-“ Marinette broke down again. Her words were almost incoherent but Chat already knew what she was talking about. His heart broke a little. He knew Lila was a liar. He knew that Lila was being mean to her and he knew that no one at school believed Marinette. Except him. He had let it all slip from his mind because never in a million years had he considered that Marinette would be fazed. She was so strong and so resilient it hadn’t even occurred to him that Marinette could get knocked down. And then Chat felt like an idiot.

Of course Marinette was hurt. Anyone would be hurt if their own friends turned on them. Marinette was a normal girl like anyone else even if she was strong, and she had feelings. That’s when Chat got mad. Not just mad, but pissed. The kind of pissed that makes you shake so hard that your vision turns red. He made up his mind right there. Tomorrow he was gonna put a stop to this. No one deserved to be treated like this, least of all his Mari.

Chat was so caught up in his own thoughts as he held Marinette in his arms he didn’t even notice that from then on, when he thought of Marinette, he always thought of her, as his Mari.

+

The two of them got increasingly more comfortable with each other. After that night, they stopped just being close emotionally. It wasn’t uncommon for Chat to lay his head in his Mari’s lap or for her to lay her head on Chat’s shoulder. Sometimes when they would look at the stars, Chat would drape his arm around her shoulder.

After that night, Adrien made more of an effort with Marinette at school. He wanted her to know that there was always someone on her side to stand up for her. Not because Marinette couldn’t stand up for herself, but because he didn’t want her to have to.

“You know I find it a little crazy that we talk almost everyday and you haven’t talked about boys once.” Marinette stiffened.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we talk constantly but you’ve never once talked about a crush or a guy you like. I think its weird. You know that I’m in love with Ladybug. How come you won’t tell me who you’re in love with.”

“Maybe I’m not in love with anybody!” Marinette protests. The two of them were together on the balcony again. Marinette was sitting with her legs crossed, leaned back, supporting herself on her arms. Chat had his head in her lap, body strewn out as he played with a flower he’d stolen out of someones yard. They’d already been sitting together for at least an hour but they’d spent most of it in a comfortable silence.

“Everyone has a crush on somebody. You’re 16.” Chat was smirking as he started to pick the petals from his flower one by one.

“Well how old are you? I heard you were over 5,000 years old so I bet you can’t even remember what it’s like to be 16.”

“First of all, my age is classified information. Second, you’re avoiding my question. You can’t lie to me, Mari.”

Marinette was quiet for a moment.

“You can’t make fun of me.” Marinette suddenly looked embarrassed and she looked away.

“I would never! Scouts honor.”

Marinette sighed before placing her head in her hands

“Ammphm.” The sound was muffled and completely unintelligible.

“Mari, I can’t hear you with your face in your hands.” He could, however, hear her groan of frustration.

“It’s Adrien. I have a huge, stupid, giant, crush on Adrien.” Chat sat up so fast his head slammed right into Marinette’s.

“Ow, Chat what the hell?”

“Adrien?” Marinette rubbed her head.

“I said you can’t make fun of me.” Chat straightened a little, trying to appear unfazed.

“No I’m not making fun of you, just surprised I guess.”

“Why are you surprised?” Chat was backing himself into a corner and he was scrounging for ways to get out.

“Um- because- I – I mean- I met him once and he seemed like a jerk.” Chat was mentally hitting himself. He seriously couldn’t come up with a better lie than that?

“That doesn’t sound like him. Maybe you just met him when he was in a bad mood?”

“Well, are you sure that you don’t just find him attractive because he’s famous?”

And just like that, Marinette shoved Chat out of her lap faster than Plagg could gobble Camembert and she gave him the look. The one that she used when Chloe was terrorizing her classmates or when Lila would lie. The look that he’d prayed to God would never be directed at him.

“Of course not you ass. You don’t even know him. He’s kind and thoughtful and all he wants is to make friends. And you know what?! I don’t even care that he’s famous. And quite frankly I can’t believe that you would even think that matters to me.” Marinette stood up and crossed her arms.

“You can show yourself out.” She stomped her way down the ladder and into her room, slamming the door behind her without so much as a second glance.

Chat put his head in his hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

+

Adrien didn’t know what to do. He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about how he had no clue what to do. He replayed Marinette’s words over and over and over in his head.

He’s kind and thoughtful and all he wants is to make friends. And you know what?! I don’t even care that he’s famous.

He hadn’t really thought about the way he felt about his Mari. She was funny and strong and cute and she was his very good friend. Was she just a friend to him?

He was in love with Ladybug. But lately, he’d kind of put his thoughts for her on the back burner. It was almost a knee jerk reaction. Who did he love? Ladybug. It was automatic. And it wasn’t like he just wasn’t in love with her anymore. If anything he felt like their relationship had gotten a little stronger. Their teamwork started to feel more in sync. She started to laugh at his puns instead of looking at him like an annoying little brother. She didn’t scold him for his flirting.

He knew he could never let go of what he felt for Ladybug, but he couldn’t dismiss that he might also have feelings for Marinette. Would he be an asshole for pursuing her while he still had feelings for Ladybug? Adrien was so screwed. He couldn’t keep up with all of his thoughts and he hated that he couldn’t confide in anyone about it. Especially because usually when he wanted to get something off his chest, he would immediately talk to Marinette.

How did it happen? How did he get there? How did it go from being nice, being friendly, to whatever this was? When did he start feeling like this? He felt like an idiot.

Adrien felt like an idiot and all he wanted to do was scream. What the hell was he gonna do?

“Plagg.”

“Yeeees?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“When in doubt, I just do what I want. It usually works out.”

“Didn’t you tell me you destroyed Atlantis.”

“I said usually works out.”

“You aren’t making me feel any better.”

“Look kid, I don’t know anything about love, but I know that you’re gonna do the right thing. In the end, you always do.” Adrien didn’t respond.

+

When Chat finally decided he was ready, he made his way to Marinette’s balcony. He was so nervous he was shaking and he was shaking so much that petals were beginning to fall off the flowers he’d gathered into a bouquet. She wasn’t on the balcony when he got there but he bent down to the trap door and knocked gently. Chat felt like time was passing around him in slow motion. What seemed like hours later, Marinette cracked open the trap door.

“Have you come to apologize for being an ass?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The door flew open and Mari climbed up until she was sitting on the edge, legs dangling into her room and arms crossed. Her hair was down and she was in her pajamas and most importantly, she looked beautiful. Even if there was a scowl on her face.

“I’m listening.”

Chat took a deep breath.

“I’m an idiot.” It came out fast and loud like the words were tumbling out of his mouth. Marinette looked unimpressed.

“Uh huh.” Chat scratched his head.

“I was acting like an idiot. I know you aren’t the kind of person who would fall in love with someone just because they’re famous. You’re smart and a good judge of character and you would never feel strongly about someone just because of the way they look on the outside. I know that. You caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to say so I just said something stupid and I’m really sorry.” Marinette held her expression for a mere moment before giving up and giving Chat a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

“Well, there’s more..”Marinette cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I have something I have to tell you and its really important to me.” Chat handed the flowers he’d been holding to Marinette.

“Okay, whats wrong?”

“Look Mari, I trust you more than anyone else in the world. You’re my best friend and you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re kind, and- and you’re beautiful.” Chat looked everywhere but at Marinette’s face as he kept talking.

“I’ve thought about it a lot over the past few days and I realized that you’re one of the most important things in my life. And because of the trust I have in you and the way I care about you, I decided that you deserve to know who I am.”

“Wait- Chat-“

“Plagg, Claws In.”

Marinette dropped the flowers.

“Oh my god.”

“Marinette I love you and you deserve to know that.” Marinette put her hand to her forehead.

“Oh my god.”

“Mari, are you okay.”

“Um…. Oh my god.” Adrien fidgeted with his shirt awkwardly.

“Not to ruin the moment, but I’m staving.” Adrien rolled his eyes and pulled a pieve of camembert out of his shirt pocket.

“Plagg, please shut up and sit down. Marinette do you want me to do anything right now? I know this is a lot, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“I- Chat-Adrien-Oh my god.”Marinette was staring at the trap door like she wanted to slip down into it. Adrien was standing there awkwardly, still fidgeting with his shirt. Finally Mari pushed herself up to stand, put her hands on her hips and looked Adrien dead in the eye.

“Tikki spots on.” Adrien stared and for a moment it didn’t register with him. But then-

“Oh my God.” And then Adrien was laughing. It was a hysterical laugh that laughed when nothing else made sense. When irony is shoved so far down your throat you think swords will come out of your ass.

When Adrien finally stopped laughing, he plopped himself down on the floor of Marinette’s balcony and laid down so that all he could see was the stars.

“You broke him,” Plagg said.

“He broke me first,” Marinette grumbled. She sounded far away.

“I don’t really know what to say,” Adrien admitted.

“ Me neither.” Adrien glanced at Marinette who was transformed right in front of him. She looked as far away as she sounded.

“Can you just lay here with me and hold my hand while I figure it out. And then Marinette looked at him and Adrien felt like an idiot all over again. Because in her face he could see her. She wasn’t Ladybug, she was his Mari. And they weren’t two people he loved they were one person he loved and somehow things were simpler and more complicated all at the same time.

Marinette didn’t respond to him. She just walked over to him and all but fell down in the space next to him and grasped his hand tight in hers.

And after a long while of the two of them rifling through their thoughts, Marinette spoke.

“You’re an idiot.”