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liyawritesss · 1 year ago

Text

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x!Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 11.8k

Synopsis: It’s your sister’s 25th birthday, and she invited you over for the extravagant birthday bash. However, there’s only one problem. Shuri has never met your family. She also isn’t aware of their past mistreatment of you. So when your parents begin to make jabs at you on what is supposed to be a joyous event, Shuri might have to apologize to your sister for what is to come next.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of verbal + physical abuse, mentions of severe anxiety, a very angry Shuri shuts shit down, shitty parents, dysfunctional family dynamics

A/N: So....this came about after watching a clip of Love & Hip Hop ATL, where in the clip one of the guys on the show was confronting his mother about the mistreatment and neglect he got as a kid and how his mother took all her frustrations out on him when he had nothing to do with what she was going through. That video touched exceptionally close to home so I wanted to writing for such an event but with Shuri, as I think for someone who is quite family oriented (or who appears to be), she would definitely have a few choice words to say to parents like that. Plus, I wanted to provide comfort to those going through similar situations as teenagers and young adults with their own parents. So I hope that this brings comfort to some of you, as it has done to me when writing it.

Song Suggestions: "Naked" & "Everything" by Ella Mai, "Let Me Down Slowly" by Alec Benjamin ft. Alessia Cara, "Let It Go" by James Bay, "Losin' Control" by Russ, "Control" by Zoe Wees, "You're Not Here" by Cynthia Erivo, "You Let Me Down" by Alessia Cara

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdraco @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @h34rtsformilli @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @nichole-224 @niyahwrites @lppriceisright @blacksapphhicmaddonna @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Note: there are some of you that for some reason tumblr won't let me tag, so I apologize in advance.

The closer you were to pulling up to your sister’s home, the harder it was becoming for you to breathe.

It wasn’t like you were ignorant enough to believe you could escape this. You’d always known, deep down inside, that one day, you’d have to face them again. Yet, here you were, tucked into the smooth tan leather of Shuri’s car, hiding the fact that you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and your girlfriend to the left of you filled with positive anticipation to meet your family.

Your sister, Alex, was turning twenty-five today. It is a big celebration for your bloodline, and though much of the original purpose of the celebration had been lost due to oral passing, the general belief was that the lucky lady who’d survive to her twenty-fifth birthday was to be guaranteed a long, fulfilling life.

Of course your sister would have a long, fulfilling life. Alex was a woman of greatness. She’d worked hard in school, got into an amazing college, met a handsome guy who she’d married as soon as she landed her first official big-girl job at some law firm in your home city. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Alex was guaranteed for greatness.

Alex was…perfect.

You didn’t want to go. As much as you knew it would have hurt her to not have her sister at her side for her big day, Alex would’ve understood. You never liked the elaborate, extravagant lifestyle. You were a simple girl with simple pleasures, who led a simple life and wanted nothing more than to live simply.

Though, that seems contradictory, since about a year ago, you found yourself gaining the attention and affections of the very Queen of Wakanda. How you managed that feat, you would never know.

It was Shuri who had found the invitation. She was visiting you during an monthly check up at one of the outreach facilities posted in your town, when she had inevitably seen the pretty invitation sitting on your kitchen island. It was all written in cursive, no doubt the product of your sister’s perfect penmanship, and most of all, it was addressed to you and Shuri.

You’d only told Alex of your relationship after the six month mark. You wanted to be certain that such a relationship would last; though, now that you thought back on it, what good would it have done Shuri to play you? Her intentions and integrity were clear the first day she had introduced herself to you. She’d never given you any reason to not trust her, and yet, you had still doubted her. It was a period of time you regretted most, and yet, Shuri still loved you. And in realizing that she would continue to do so, even after seeing the ugly parts of you, you allowed yourself to truly love her back.

Shuri was ecstatic to go. She wanted to meet your sister in person, having only ever seen each other through video calls and communicated through text. And with Shuri’s pretty brown doe-eyes that had always been a weakness to you, you couldn’t say no.

And now, here you were, gripping the door handle tightly as you released tight breathes, wondering if it would have been beneficial to sit Shuri down and tell her the reason why your eyes showed a glimpse of dread when she’d picked up that invitation.

“Darling?” The Queen’s voice cuts through the cloudiness that fogs your brain, grounding you in a way only her honey-laced voice could do. “Are you alright?”

No, you want to say, turn the car around, take me home. I don’t want to go there-

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

Shuri looks at you quizzingly. You have not been acting as yourself since the day she’d stopped by your apartment. Since, she’d been trying to pinpoint the cause, but to no avail. Even after a year together, she still found you hard to read sometimes. It was endearing to her, a challenge she greatly accepted as part of the packaged deal that came with your relationship.

However, she couldn’t deny that this time, things felt…different.

There’s a melodic beeping that comes from the vehicle, and the red flashing on the dash panel alerts Shuri that the car is running out of gas. And not a second later, a familiar voice speaks from the surround-sound speakers:

Panther, the vehicle is reaching low fuel. It would be wise to refuel soon. There is a petrol station approximately ten miles ahead. Fuel here is priced at four ninety-seven per gallon.

“Thank you, Griot,” Shuri hums, turning to you, “we shall stop there. Fill up on gas and get some snacks. You haven’t eaten much today, my love.”

Though you fix your lips to protest Shuri’s ever so keen observation, the way her hand slips over your thigh, her open palm meeting your skin through the large hole in your ripped jeans, it’s almost enough to have you relent. “I did eat; at breakfast.”

“Which was eight hours ago,” Shuri reminds you, “almost nine, once we arrive at your sisters. I’m sure there will still be room for the food if you just have one bag of chips to hold you over.”

You hate how well Shuri knows you. It makes it hard to hide things with her keen perception and observation skills. Though, you suppose those traits all come with the territory of being The Black Panther.

A sigh escapes your lips, and the lack of a reply worries Shuri. Yet, she does not push. Instead, her thumb continues to swipe in soothing strokes along the smooth skin of your thigh as she continues to drive to the designated gas station.

All of five minutes pass until it comes into view. When Shuri parks at one of the gas lanes, she fishes into her pocket for her wallet. From it she produces a black card, and hands it to you. “Fifty should bring it back up,” the Queen says, “and a bag of chips for you should do the same.”

“Shuri, I said I’m fine-”

“Darling.” Shuri’s tone is firm, yet gentle, and leaves no room for argument. So all you can do is press a kiss to her cheek - a practice routine of mundane intimacy that brings you both pleasure - before exiting the car and walking towards the entrance of the gas station.

Shuri sits back in her seat, a sigh pushing past her lips. She’s not quite sure what to make of your behavior.

In the year that the two of you have been dating, never once did you bring up the topic of your family. Shuri didn’t even know you had a sister until six months ago. Alex reminded her much of Nakia in some sense - powerful and self made, and in that regard, she was glad that you had some semblance of family you could reach out to.

Your parents, however, were another story. A story you had well avoided, and as of recently as a few months ago, downright refused to talk about. It became quite clear that it was a touchy subject for you, so Shuri didn’t pry. However, she could not deny that part of her grew…heated, at the unpleasant thoughts that plagued her mind when it came to the reason for the non-existent relationship between you and them.

“Griot.”

“Yes, Panther?”

“What were my beloved’s vitals during the ride?”

A beat passes, as Griot computes.

“(Y/N)’s heart rate had been jumping from one hundred forty-five to one hundred seventy beats per minute. Her grip on the door was strong enough to break a thin glass cup. It appears (Y/N) was on the verge of an anxiety attack, but had been fighting it off for the duration of your journey.”

Shuri curses under her breath, more or less to herself at the information that had been relayed to her.

“She has been on edge all morning,” Shuri says aloud, “I did not ask, for fear of triggering her, but I cannot allow her to feel threatened.”

Shuri knows your triggers like the back of her hand. She’s learned to speak in a level tone to avoid startlement; she’s learned to make her presence known when entering your space; and most importantly, she reassures you, letting you know each and every day how much she loves you, how much she treasure your existence in her life, and how she vows to hold your heart with the utmost care in the world.

Shuri is the smartest person in the world, and yet, she cannot decipher the reason behind her lover’s heightened emotions. If it weren’t for the fact that she was focused on figuring out why you were like this, and how to calm you down, she’d surely find the thought embarrassing.

“Might I speak freely, Panther?”

A hum rumbles from Shuri’s throat as a sign for the artificial intelligence to continue.

“(Y/N)’s vitals have been heighted since one week ago,” Griot points out, “around the same time she had received the invitation to her sister’s birthday party. It would be safe to assume that these two instances have a correlation with one another.”

“You are insinuating that Alex’s birthday party is somehow the cause of my love’s anxiety spiking?”

“Perhaps not the party, but rather, who will be there, Panther.”

Silence fills the car as Shuri takes in the information given to her. Though, she doesn’t have much to think on it, as she spots your figure exiting the sticker-covered glass door of the gas station, a black plastic bag in hand, of which she hopes holds the snacks she had requested of you to get for yourself. She exits the car and takes hold of the gas nozzle, opening up the tiny door and unscrewing the protection cap, and slots the nozzle into the car to fill with fuel.

A few moments pass before Shuri returns to the car, having placed the nozzle back in it’s place and secured the gas compartment. Her black card rests on the arm rest, which she slips back into her wallet as the corner of her eyes catches you with something in your hand - something that’s not a bag of chips.

“I thought I told you chips, darling?” Shuri asks as she starts up the car again.

“I got chips!” You respond. “I wanted a Twix, too.”

Your free hand fishes into the black plastic back to produce a bottle of water for Shuri, slotting it into the cup holder.

“What is this?” Shuri asks, gesturing to the water bottle.

“You were thirsty,” You point out.

Shuri indeed was thirsty. She can’t help the smile that paints her lips soon after, taking the water bottle into her hand, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig of the water.

“Are you sure you’re alright, my love?” Shuri asks once more after setting the water back down, preparing to put the car into motion.

To busy chewing on the cookie-chocolate-caramel treat, you opt for nodding your head, a short ‘mhm’ to accompany it.

As much as Shuri wanted to question further, she knew nothing would come of it. So she slips her hand back onto your thigh, presses down on the gas, and rolls out of the gas station, the conversation with Griot filing back into her mind as she drives down the long strip of highway.

“My parents are gonna come.”

You’d said it the second Shuri had parked into the driveway of your sister’s home. With each second that passed on the way there, your chest kept growing tighter and tighter. You thought that maybe if you focused on Shuri’s touch on you, or her low singing voice when Tems starts to flood the car with her hypnotic, warm and swelling voice, that maybe you would be able to calm down and not worry her. It usually worked, but perhaps because this instance was due to the fact that you would be seeing your parents for the first time in years, what was usually the cure for your attacks did very little to help.

Shuri pauses as the words leave your lips, and for a moment, it looks as if she is cross. And while she has every right to be, you hope that it isn’t at you.

You should have told her before the two of you left, as you thought to do. It plagued your mind when you were in the shower, when you were fixing your hair, when you were choosing your outfit. And Shuri had been in the same apartment with you the entire time. You had ample enough time to tell her and yet…you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You know Shuri. She would try to remain calm and collected for you, to not show her anger, because of course she would be angry either way. The car ride would have been in silence, the air thickening with each mile crossed from one city to the other. But you would know that she was upset. She should be upset now because you just dropped this bomb on her and-

“Beloved,” the Queen mutters to you, bringing you from your thoughts once more, “look at me.”

Your head turns to face Shuri. She’s put the car into park, one arm leaning on the arm rest, the other reaching over to soothe your nerves by caressing your outer thigh. She looks at you with a softness that relieves some of the pressure on your chest stunting your breathing. Her gaze tells you that she is not cross with you.

“Hey,” she says, “I am not upset with you.” And the reassurance helps you unclench the fists your hands have balled into.

She doesn’t speak again until she’s certain that your breathing has evened out, as opposed to the harsh and forced inhale-exhale pattern from before. “Is there…anything I should know?”

You tear your eyes away, but Shuri’s gaze remains firm. Consistency is key, she’s learned, when it comes to you confiding in her. Her eyes are your safe space, you will return to them. And you do, after a short moment, trying to gather your mind together.

“They’re not nice people,” you confess, eyes hesitantly returning to hers, “they’ll try and woo you and shit, but don’t fall for it. They ain’t shit.”

“Okay,” Shuri hums, “and…is there anything I can do? For you?”

“Um,” a shaky breath racks through your throat, as you speak, “they’re not here now. Alex texted me that, so I should be fine, but when they get here…j-just, don’t leave me alone.”

“I will not leave you alone.” Shuri assures. Her hand gathers yours into hers, your palms rendered chilly from cold sweat. “I promise.”

Gathering your hands into hers, Shuri brings them to her lips and presses a kiss to them. She then reaches over to press a kiss to your lips, of which you reciprocate gladly.

“Thank you for talking to me about this,” the Queen commends, “and telling me how to best take care of you. I know it is not easy-”

“I hate it-” you correct, which brings a grin to Shuri’s lips and a chuckle from her throat, because yes, she knows you hate it.

“-but you are doing it, and I am very proud of you for it.”

It’s sincere, Shuri’s praise. It’s still not easy for you to digest it, but you know her love is not transactional, conditional. She means what she says, and you know her love for you is unconditional and unyielding.

She loves you.

She is proud of you.

The pressure on your chest becomes lighter.

Upon exiting the car, you’re approached by your sister, Alex, who had seen the two of you pull into the driveway and wanted to be the first person you’d engage with. You’re not shocked when you see her eyes glassy looking - it’s been years since you two last saw each other face to face.

Alex is hesitant when approaching you - she wants to envelop you in the most bone-crushing hug she can muster, because she misses you and it has been so long since she’d held her baby sister. Though all it takes is for you to outstretch your arms to her, and Alex embraces you in the way she had been dreaming of.

“Oh, mama,” Alex breathes as she pulls away to get a better look at you. You notice the youthfulness in her face and the life in her eyes. She looks happy, “look at you. All grown up. My baby sissy is all grown ‘nd shit.”

It’s heartfelt, her words, and they make you smile. Alex turns to look at Shuri, who’s chosen to stand to the side to witness the sisterly reunion without interrupting. “And you have a girlfriend? You have to tell me how this happened.”

“By complete accident,” you say, as Shuri steps up. Her hand presses into the small of your back, encouraging you while she holds the other out to greet Alex officially, “but I guess anything can happen when you spill coffee on someone in the middle of a morning rush.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Alex.” Shuri says.

Alex shakes Shuri’s hand, and the Queen notes the hesitance in the older sister's movements. “Well, it’s not every day you meet the queen of a country. Much less, a queen of a country that’s also my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Well, I hope not to bring too much excitement with my titles,” says Shuri, “I am more than alright with being just Shuri.”

She sincerely hoped that she could just remain Shuri. For if a situation arises that she would have to act in the manner of either of her titles - Queen or Black Panther - she could not promise that the birthday celebration would remain a splendor.

An hour passes before either of you know it. You’ve found entertainment amongst the younger cousins who all gawk at your girlfriend, who sits not too far away. Shuri has a cup of punch in hand as she watches you chase the children around the yard, a small smile on her lips. It’s as if you are reliving a part of your childhood you’ve missed, the way you seem so content with the children. It all but warms her heart.

“So,” Alex’s voice interrupts Shuri’s not so discreet admiration of her girlfriend, nearly making the Queen jump, “you and my sister?”

“Ah,” Shuri breathes, looking down into her cup as a rush of heat travels up her dark skin, “me and your sister.”

“I’m not gonna go into the whole interrogation thing, grilling you on if you’re treating her right,” Alex says, “I see how you look at her. If that ain’t the look of someone in love, then I’on know what is.”

Shuri chuckles at that, because she knows that Alex’s observations are true. In fact she has no idea just how correct her observation is.

Shuri leans forward in her seat, elbows propped up on her knees as she finds your figure amidst the mess of kids once again. Her necklace dangles from her neck, the gold contrasting against her black tee that nearly meets the fabric of her ripped blue jeans with her hunched over position.

“(Y/N) is…the ray of sunlight one sees after a long, dark night,” the Queen hums fondly, “and had I known my gods would send me such a woman, I would have prepared myself better.”

Alex smiles warmly. She can tell the strong connection between you and Shuri is pure and unadulterated. It warms her heart beyond comparison.

“Thank you for coming, truly,” Alex says, “I was almost worried she wouldn’t, since our parents would be here and everything.”

And at the mention of them, Shuri finds her jaw tightening just the slightest.

“Your parents?” Shuri is beginning to put two and two together, and she doesn’t like the outcome that is unfolding from her assumptions, however careful they are.

“I…assume she’s told you about them?” Alex implies.

Shuri shakes her head lightly, taking a sip of her semi-forgotten punch. “I find myself piecing the picture together on my own…She does not talk about them.”

“That isn’t a surprise,” Alex says, “given…well, everything.”

Shuri turns her head to look at Alex. Her eyes are firm, inquisitive; Alex’s words have sparked an interest in Shuri.

”She says they aren’t good people. Is that true?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Alex replies, “to the community, their saints. To us they’re just….people.”

Shuri notes the hint of solemness that laces Alex’s voice as she speaks. “They weren’t good to either of us…but they were especially bad to (Y/N).” Alex clarifies. “You know what they say; hurt people, hurt people.”

Not when the person is your child, Shuri thinks, but keeps to herself, taking another sip of her punch. Things are starting to make sense now, and Shuri finds that perhaps she will also have to have you at her side to ground her whenever your parents decide to show up.

“So you mean to tell me you got yourself stuck in a tree, and then got angry because she tried to help you get down?”

“I was not stuck! I was admiring the view.”

“Sure you were…with tears coming down your face.”

“I think this classifies as bullying-”

Shuri had grown quite comfortable as the next hour passed. More of your family had begun to show up, a number of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins wishing Alex a happy birthday as they passed through the foyer of her house and into the backyard. Shuri couldn’t count the amount of gasps she’d heard when their eyes fell upon her, sat comfortably in the outdoor gazebo, her presence obviously a surprise to the many relatives who had come to celebrate the special birthday girl. Much more, the fact that she had you close to her side as she greeted them.

The behavior of your family members irked her. Shuri suspected that Alex had talked to each of the adults to assure that they’d be on their best behavior for the occasion, given the tight smiles and curt greetings between each of them and you. Or perhaps it was because of her own intimidating presence next to you, and the fact that she wasn’t even trying to hide the look in her eyes as she analyzed each adult that seemed to pass through.

“Babe,” you cleared your throat, “stop looking like that, you’re scaring them.”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’re contemplating murder.”

Would it have been so bad if she was, though?

Shuri sighs as she places the red solo cup she had been nursing for a while onto the table. “Just behave, for Alex-”

“I am behaving for you,” the queen clarifies, “and your sister would say the same.”

Unable to comment any further, you released an exhale through the nose, sinking back into Shuri’s side.

“It’s guilt, y’know.” You try to reason, but Shuri had already considered that route. Perhaps there were a few who did have a guilty conscience. Shuri didn’t find herself caring if that was true or not. “They’re not bad.”

“Beloved-”

“Shuri.”

“-I am merely observing,” she says, “I promise.”

Of course Shuri was only observing. Observing the behavior of each adult family member. How they acted towards you. How very little regard was given to you. How, with the amount of bodies that have accumulated in the backyard, the gazebo area remained relatively desolate, beside the two of you, Alex, and Alex’s black and white spotted cat, who had made a home on the red painted banister.

Sure. Shuri was just observing. Definitely not questioning anything at all. Definitely not formulating words she would say to your parents if they decided to make themselves an issue.

“I’m gonna go get a shot,” you say, before propping yourself up with your hands and lifting from the cushion of the outdoor couch, “you want a refill?”

You take Shuri’s cup before she officially gives you a response. You needed a way out, to move around so that the beating in your chest could quell.

Inside there isn’t much of a party scene - it's practically empty besides a teenage family member fighting their sleep on the couch while watching an infant in the living room. The music from outside is muffled when you enter the house, and you take the time to admire the mahogany walls and deep maroon floors of the home. You could compare it to the childhood home you’ve grown up in, and you think that perhaps this was Alex’s way of healing. Recreating your shared childhood environment in a more peaceful manner.

You find the kitchen quite easily, rounding the kitchen island in pursuit of the adult punch purposefully left inside so that the underaged family members wouldn’t get it confused with the family friendly punch that rested in a big glass bowl on the party table outside. On the counter is an array of liquor choices, from fruit flavored tequila to everyone's favorite, Hennessy. You weren’t a drinker, but this far into the party, you needed some sort of incentive to get you to relax a little bit.

Once you’ve chosen your choice of liquor, you take a red solo cup, pour what you deemed to be a shot's worth, and downed it in one gulp. The burn in your throat definitely woke your senses, of which you were grateful for.

On your way towards the kitchen doorway, Shuri’s refilled solo cup in hand, the sound of familiar voices drifted to your ears from the foyer, and it made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Happy birthday baby!”

“Happy birthday, babygirl.”

“Oh, look at you, all grown up-”

It took everything in you to not drop the cup in your hand at the sound of your parents making their presence known. You backed into the kitchen again, your back finding a nearby wall to ground yourself with. Your chest began to tighten, a tight lump forming in your throat, and in that moment, your hand fished for your phone in your back pocket to text Shuri.

Kitchen. Now.

There was a light shake in your hands. You hated how just the mere sound of their voices sent you into a spiral; how much of an influence they still had on you after trying so hard to separate yourself from them. Then they had the nerve to act pleasant.

There was a growing ringing in your ears, accompanied with the muffling of surrounding noise that made you breathe harder as you tried to stabilize yourself from the very apparent anxiety attack that was waiting to crash into you. You couldn’t decipher if it was the same one from before that you had fended off by sheer will, or if this was a new, more powerful one. However, when the smell of patchouli made its way to your nose, the thought of it became seconded.

“Hey,” Shuri whispered, one hand running the length of your arm, the other taking the cup from your hand that was seconds away from meeting the floor, and settling it onto the kitchen island, “hey, I am right here.”

“They’re out there, Shuri.” You breathe out.

Something shifts in Shuri’s eyes, and you can’t quite tell what it was, but the way her grip on you tightens in the ever so slightest way lets you know she’s thinking something.

“We can leave, beloved,” Shuri begins, but you’re quick to cut her off with a shake of your head.

“No,” you say, swallowing thickly, “I can’t leave, it’s Alex’s birthday-”

“Alex will understand, love; would she really want you to risk your own self for her?”

I’ve done it for years, the little girl in you voices tiredly, what’s another evening of it?

Shuri never wants to be forceful with you. She knows you’re your own woman and can make your own decisions, even if they go against her better judgment, even if they hurt you. Which is why, against every logical bone in her body, she proposes a compromise.

“Three chances,” Shuri says, “three chances is all they have. Then we will leave. How does that sound?”

Knowing Shuri, she’ll want to throw hands at the first encounter. It was endearing, really, how hard she went for you. The extent of such craze was never explored, simply because she was always calm, cool and collected. There was a part of you that always wondered the extent of it as well.

And, in hindsight, you weren’t wrong about her.

Shuri peaks from the kitchen doorway and into the foyer, seeing Alex still entertaining the two adults, their backs turned towards the Queen, which gave her the incentive to leave while the trio were occupied.

She mutters a quick ‘let’s go’ with a gentle smile, and after a few seconds, you nod. Your hand finds her, tightly interlocking your fingers as Shuri pulls you back to the backyard gazebo. Shuri had no idea the depths she was about to breach in the layers of your estranged family, but whatever the case may be, she will not let you face it alone.

It was almost the perfect getaway, too, but apparently Shuri wasn’t fast enough in getting you out of the house. She heard the matured voice of your mother call out to you, asking if it was her other daughter, and Shuri supposed that it wasn’t meant to be taken in a demeaning way, but the queen certainly did. Perhaps it was predisposed biases, perhaps it was intentional. Either way, Shuri would make sure to take as much of the burden off you as she could.

“Mom,” you say, jaws tight, but Shuri stands close behind you, a hand on your waist, and it stabilizes you, “good to see you.”

The older woman, short in stature, with wide hips and thick arms, saw Shuri standing behind you, but whether or not she didn’t address her because she didn’t recognize the queen or because she simply didn’t care couldn’t be deciphered. “Come give me a hug-!”

“I’m good,” you hurriedly said, “just- uh, not feeling well.”

“Don’t be like that,” the deep, bolstering voice of your father chimed in; a large man with an intimidating physique. Shuri was not phased, her arm only snaked it’s way around your waist, “give your mama a hug, lil’ girl-”

“I said I’m good.” You reiterate more firmly, though there was an added incentive to clear your throat shortly afterwards to make your fib more believable. “Really; I know how easy it is for y’all to get sick.”

There was a moment of pause - and exchange of glances and a shift in energy before a light ‘humph’ came from your mother’s throat. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she snooted, “and I suppose that’s why your friend there is the exception-?”

“Girlfriend, actually,” Shuri interrupts, though it wasn’t planned, and surely wasn’t expected, “it is one of many perks of being the Black Panther. I do not succumb to normal colds and illnesses as easily.”

The pads of Shuri’s fingers press into your side as she steps beside you; she’s now side to side with you, face your parents with a high chin and a look you were sure she’d only pulled out when in front of important people - or people who she suspected would try to intimidate her, yet she’d still have to play nice for publicity purposes.

“Allow me to introduce myself formally,” Shuri said, holding out her hand for your mother to take; the shorter woman did just so as Shuri spoke again, “I am Queen Shuri to my people, but for tonight's festivities, I would like to remain just Shuri.”

“A queen?” Your mother breathes out in an amused chuckle, though you couldn’t tell if it was in actual amusement or in disbelief. “Well, perhaps we did do something right with her, hm, honey?”

Strike one.

Shuri’s hand then reaches out to your father, who stares at the long, brown arm outstretched before him for a moment, before taking one of his thick, meaty hands, and shaking Shuri’s tinier one. Though, the look on his face when the queen’s grip strengthened around his hand was enough to tell you his surprise and lack of proper judgment on the brown-skinned woman.

“Got a…firm grip for a lil’ lady.” He says.

“Well,” Shuri begins as she slips her hand from your fathers, “my baba and big brother always said a firm hand makes a firm leader.”

“Well, wise men they were.”

There was much to observe in the few words shared between Shuri and your parents. Your father hid very well behind the facade of a pleasant man of few words. Perhaps he was sculpted that way, by your mother or by his own parents; either one didn’t matter, only that the end result was a man with a weaker grip than the elders she held council with, and they were pushing their latter years of nineties and hundreds. Your parents looked to be in their mid-forties.

Your mother…Shuri admits that she wished her own were still alive, for the words she knew Ramonda would have for this short-stack of a woman would be more lethal than any weapon produced by her own hands. Condescension laced in her voice with a familiar tone of jealousy that she’d heard and witnessed many black mothers having towards their own daughters. It wasn’t hard to tell, Shuri thought, but perhaps when enough people ignore such a dangerous thing, the ugly nature becomes a tolerable norm.

“Well, if you will excuse us,” says the queen, “I’m going to take my beloved to sit down. She is in much need of rest.”

Shuri did not give your parents time to react, nor to object to the sudden ending to the conversation. She’d quickly pivoted your body around and walked back outside to the gazebo, a firm hand on your back and a ticking clock in her head for when the next strike would come.

Sure enough, Shuri did not have to wait long for that second strike.

After getting you back to the gazebo to take a seat, on the verge of hyperventilating from the amount of anxiety the back and forth gave you, despite the fact that you weren’t even the one talking, Alex had come with a look of disdain. Your parents were in tow, as they claimed to want to ‘have a sit down and reconnect’. Of course, Shuri didn’t buy into that bullshit. Neither did Alex. And surely, neither did you.

And yet, neither you nor Alex yet had the courage to send them off, and Shuri, keeping herself in check, had no other choice but to allow them to sit with the three of you. So now you were tucked into Shuri’s side, phone in hand as a distraction, while Alex sat on a beige-cushioned chair to your left, and your parents in a similar-fashioned loveseat to the queen’s right.

Alex was kind enough to hide her discomfort in nervous laughs and meek agreements as your mother and father raved on about your childhoods. Specifically, the accomplishments of Alex, which would have been understandable as it was her birthday, if it didn’t have to include the ‘disappointments’ of yours they had to bring into the light.

“Remember the speech competition your grammar school had, Lexi-Pooh,” your mother chimed, using the youthful nickname Alex very physically cringed over, “you won your first ever trophy then at eight years old! Oh, we were so proud of you-”

“Mom, everyone got a trophy,” Alex reminded, putting emphasis on the word ‘everyone’ as she spared a glance your way, “we were babies, and it was a participation trophy. They just didn’t want us to be left out.”

“Well, still, my baby had the best poem on that stage!”

“Mom, I literally stole that poem off the internet.” Alex reasons.

“Yeah, off DeviantArt no less,” you speak with a chuckle, remembering the nights your sister scoured the internet for a poem to read because she, for the life of her, couldn’t write her own. Which she couldn’t be faulted for, she was in third grade after all.

Alex shares a small laugh as well. “If anyone should have won that competition, it should’ve been (Y/N),” She says. “All the teachers swore up and down she was gonna be the next Lorraine Hansberry or Audre Lorde. I bet you she got some bars hidden somewhere.”

Your mother could only hum in response; “Well, we can’t all be winners, I guess.”

There was a familiar sting that ached your heart. Despite how used you were to such rhetoric coming from your mother, it didn’t make the twang in your heart any less hurtful.

“You never liked that kinda stuff anyway, (Y/N),” your mother says, “so why did you join it-”

“I do like writing,” you say sharply, “and I wanted to be like my sister. Who doesn’t wanna be like their older sister at seven years old?”

You glanced up from your phone to look between the three people sitting before you. Alex shifts in her seat, uncomfortably, slightly shaking her head as she knows what is to come.

“Or were you just so busy with your perfect princess that you ain’t have time to learn me?”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother scolds, and you feel the protective arm of Shuri’s curl around you in defense. “Hush your mouth with them lies, girl!”

Your father remains silent, as he’s always done when your mother gets this way, and Shuri sees this, and takes note of it.

“I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you,” your mother huffs, “lost yo’ damn manners and mind talkin’ like that.”

Your mother then turns to Shuri, sporting an apologetic look, though it is not sincere, and merely a coverup for her own outburst. “Now I know your mother taught you well and good, Shuri, about how to talk to people and behave-”

“My mother is dead.”

There is an inevitable shift in the conversation now, one that brings the eyes to Shuri as a deafening silence befalls the gazebo. Even you rise from your curled position into Shuri’s side to eye her demeanor, checking over her form to note any changes that came with the sudden mention of her mother. Yet, she is calm and collected, her eyes showing no shifts and her demeanor intact. All seemed well…on the surface, at least.

“My mother is dead, may she be at peace with the ancestors,” Shuri says, “and she is incomparable. I do not wish to speak further of her.”

A beat passes. Your hand travels to Shuri’s leg, providing a comforting touch to the woman beside you. You weren’t ignorant to the news of her family’s passing - since her father’s death, you’d had a semblance of understanding the inner turmoil she had endured. With her brother and mother gone, she was virtually alone - save for a sister-like figure and a nephew she’d only told you a little bit about in the past few months or so.

You wanted to say something, but your mother beat you to it - this time, she actually sounded somewhat apologetic for her ignorance.

“My condolences,” the woman mutters softly, clearing her throat, “I only meant that she must have had it easy raising you. You’re so well put together and polite, if only some of that would rub off on (Y/N)!”

Strike two.

“Mom, stop it,” Alex interrupts, voice firm with a scowl on her face, “you doin’ a lil’ too much now.”

“Now, your mama ain’t said nun’ wrong,” your father suddenly speaks, who had been quite the entire conversation, but suddenly decided to stick up for his woman who was clearly in the wrong, “it’s just ladies spat, y’all know how y’all do.”

“And like I said before y’all got here, I don’t want it in my house.” Alex emphasizes. “If that’s the type of time y’all on, the door is very clearly marked with an obnoxiously pink birthday banner. Period.”

There was a small swell of pride in your chest for Alex as she set her foot down to your parents. She was determined to have them behave; she wanted a classy, friendly party for her birthday celebration. Though, she would know just as well as you that even when being put in place, the audacity of your parent’s always found itself back into trouble.

Your mother mumbled out an apology, along with something along the lines of ‘got me apologizing to my child’ under her breath as well, before you cleared your throat in an attempt to cut through the tension.

“Shuri, baby,” you hummed, “don’t we have something for Alex? In the car?”

Shuri turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, before she officially caught on to what you were insinuating.

“Yes,” the queen breathes out with a small smile, “we do have something in the car. For the birthday girl.”

Alex, too, shares the same look Shuri previously sported, with furrowed eyebrows and confusion written on her face. “M-Me? Something for me?”

“Of course!” Shuri answers. “Surely you did not think we would show up empty handed?”

Shuri’s hand rests on your leg, both as a reminder of her very physical presence as a grounding for herself, “How foolish of me to forget. I do not know what I would do without you, my darling.”

Shuri stands, offering her hand to you as well, adding on how she will need your help to retrieve it, before escorting you from the gazebo. While on your way to exit the yard, Shuri can hear Alex giving your parents a further scolding, which makes the queen smile mischievously.

It wasn’t a complete lie for escape, however. Shuri was nice enough to buy a gift for your sister for her birthday, though it wasn’t anything massive, and despite your constant jokes of it, wasn’t a pair of kimoyo earrings (though, from Alex’s birthday outfit, she could tell that she was a jewelry girl, and a pair of earrings probably would have sufficed better).

“I’m starting to understand why you never told me about your parents,” Shuri says in a breathless scoff, pressing a button on her beads to pop open the trunk of her car, “infuriating doesn’t even begin to describe them.”

“Are you okay?” You ask in all seriousness. “The..comment about your mom, I mean.”

How could you be worried of her feelings when she’d just had to watch your mother berate you in front of her? Shuri wonders this as she turns from the open trunk of the car to face you again. Though, she supposes that from that interaction, you were more used to centering others and their emotions than yourself. Although it caused an ache in her heart, the revelation made sense of previous actions between the two of you.

“What I said was true,” the queen replies, “though I admit, perhaps there was a bite in my tongue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t curse her out.”

“Well…I do have a promise to keep to Alex.” Shuri says in a soft laugh. “I do not want to be the cause of her birthday being ruined. Your parents are making it fairly hard to do that, however.”

Shuri closes the trunk of the car, the tiny bag holding Alex’s gift inside being set on top of it as the queen leans against the sleek black vehicle. She invites you into her embrace, pulling you between her legs and resting her hands on your hips; yours make their way onto her shoulders, a weak smile on your face.

“That’s two strikes by my count.”

“I know.”

“We have yet to even make it to dinner.”

“I know.”

“What do you want to do, beloved?”

I don’t know anymore, you think, this is all just too much.

“Let’s…stay.”

Part of you was reluctant to leave due to wanting to experience your sister’s birthday with her. You’d all but promised that you’d come to enjoy yourself with Shuri, even if your parents made that hard. But there was also an inkling of pettiness inside of you that wanted to show the assholes your parents were to the rest of your family members (who, while had suspicions of their weird behaviors and holier-than-thou rhetoric, would rather not engage in family drama to keep peace amongst the ranks).

“I’m not letting them get the better of me,” you add on, “today is for Alex. And if they wanna make it a problem, it can be a problem.”

The look on Shuri’s face was a mix of shock and pride; she hadn’t expected you to say that, and if she were being honest with herself, she was secretly anticipating such a moment to occur. Perhaps because it would give her a chance to release the pent up frustrations that had collected within her due to your parents actions; perhaps it was because seeing you stand your ground had always been an attractive sight to her. Regardless, the small smile that spread across her face was a reflection of her hopefulness.

“One more chance, then?”

“Hopefully they make it count.”

Shuri remembers how she used to dislike family dinners.

The prospect of eating with her family irked her at a young age. Though she loved her parents and her brother dearly, her teenage self was far too absorbed in her technological advances to actively partake in the family tradition. She’d taken such a routine for granted, and now, the dinner table in the large palace she called home was barren. She barely ate there anymore, consumed by the regret of not making such precious moments a priority in her youth.

As she sits next to you at the elongated party table with the rest of your family members, she notes the same air of barrenness, but not of presence of people. It is a barrenness of love.

The behavior of certain family members began to change as the night progressed. Despite the lingering glares of your family members, many aunts and uncles approached you again, expressing their joy in seeing your presence. Perhaps it was truly the guilt that you mentioned earlier, how these extended family members were subject to the bystander syndrome, and hadn’t known how to deal with their guilty consciences for whatever reason. Perhaps these people did genuinely want to reconnect with their long lost niece, cousin, auntie. Shuri would never admit it aloud to anyone, but seeing the look of distaste upon your parents face was entertaining to say the least.

“So do you drive a space ship everywhere you go?” One of your many nephews asked the queen out of curiosity, big brown eyes and white bucked-teeth shining with glee, as he’d never seen anyone of her status before.

“Not everywhere,” Shuri answers, “only the far away places.”

“Do you go to other planets? Like Mars? Or Pluto?”

“Hmm,” the queen thinks, “I don’t think I have. I shall put that on my books and tell you about it upon my return. How does that sound, little one?”

“Awesome!”

Seeing Shuri interact with the younger children eased your tense body and racing mind. She was almost a natural with them, it seemed. You leaned into her side, your cheek squishing against her shoulder with a playful huff. “Can I have my girlfriend back, please? You’ve been askin’ her questions since we got to the table.”

“Nu-uh!” Objects the little boy. “Have not!”

“Have too, lil’ boy,” you reject, “now gon’ eat so your mama don’t yell at you.”

“Can we talk about spaceships after dinner then, Auntie Shuri?”

Shuri wasn’t sure if she should adhere to the new term, having only known the child for an hour or so, but to entertain him, she allowed it. “Sure. We can talk about spaceships after dinner.”

Thankfully, the young boy seemed to be satisfied with the compromise, and began to eat his plate of food. Shuri turns to you with an amused grin, eyebrows raised as she asks “Were you jealous of your own nephew?”

“I can be jealous if I want to,” you pout, bottom lip tucked out in protest, “lil’ shit was taking you away from me.”

Shuri laughs at your banter, both glad that you’ve somewhat relaxed, and that the evening seemed to be going well. She hoped that it would stay like this.

The clinking of metal to glass caught her attention, as well as the other partygoers. Looking towards the head of the table, Alex is standing, grasping the attention of everyone in order to speak.

“Now, we all know the reason today is such an important day, aside from the fact that it’s my birthday,” Alex begins, glancing around the table, making eye contact with each individual, “though some of the kids might not know. And since we have a newcomer with us,” she says, gesturing to Shuri, who returns a nod of acknowledgement as she speaks, “I figured now is as good of a time to talk about why we celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday of the girls in our family.”

Alex sets the glass down, clears her throat, and speaks again. “Now the story has never been written down, but anyone who has sat between Nana and Great Nana’s legs to get their hair done will know the story by heart. A generation or so before them, our family had a ‘curse’ on us girls. One of our enslaved ancestors was forced to ‘engage’ with their owner who desired a mixed child. That ancestor cursed our bloodline so that no girls would survive, and slowly our numbers began to dwindle.”

You always loved to hear this story. You were never sure why, but it had always been more than hair braiding entertainment to keep a child's attention. The raw history that your grandmother and great-grandmother passed down your line of lineage always held a special place in your heart.

“Then one thing lead to another, a generation passes, and a girl is born…and she lives old enough to run away with another slave guy she fell in love with. And that ancestor had Great Nana, who had Nana, who had mom and the aunties…who had us.”

You’d been sitting to Alex’s right when she extended her hand to you to hold. You accepted it with a warm smile. She’d done the same to your mother as well.

“Reaching twenty-five is like a right of passage. Guarantees to a long, fulfilling life. And that is what we celebrate tonight.”

There were a series of claps, cheers, whoops and hollers that erupted from the table, coming from the queen herself as well. It was indeed a remarkable retelling, she thought, and she even noticed the way that Alex posed herself as a bridge between you and your mother. She applauded the woman for still trying to reconcile, but knew that there was no hope for such a feat.

As soon as Alex sat down, your mother took a stand. “I’d like to make a toast as well.”

Shuri felt you lean just a little bit closer to her.

“My baby, oh, what can I even say?” Your mother begins, striking up a face of pride. “You were perfect since the day I first laid eyes on you. I knew you’d be destined for greatness, and I can’t be any more proud of you than I am now. My baby girl is all grown up, and I can’t wait to see more of the outstanding woman you’ve become…”

Another round of applause echoes throughout the backyard, and Shuri breathes. Though she doesn’t trust your mother one bit, the words that came from her mouth seemed very genuine-

“...and you are more than fit to carry on this tradition. My only daughter that can.”

-nevermind.

The distant crickets could be heard as your mother took her seat again, seemingly proud of her little stunt. Perhaps she thought it was something good to say, but neither you, Alex, or Shuri saw the need for the ending.

“That ending wasn’t needed, but thank you.” Alex says through gritted teeth, a sigh leaving her lips. It was much like the older woman to need the last word, and although Alex truly hoped she would behave, her own patience was waning thin with the woman and her antics.

“We have a toast as well!”

Shuri whips her head to you, brows furrowed in confusion as she whispers, “We do?”

The words leave your lips before you can actually think about what you’re about to do. Upstaging your mother had never been something you’d acted upon, although you’d fantasized about shutting her up numerous times with your own words; the courage was just never there. Perhaps it was because now you were older, or perhaps it was because you now knew that Alex was on your side, or perhaps it was because you had Shuri next to you to back you up. Whatever it was, it began surging through your veins that once were riddled and crippled with anxiety.

Nonetheless, you’re standing up, and so is Shuri, so there isn’t any backing down now. All eyes were on you.

“Sister,” you begin, reaching your hand out Alex who stands up again to be eye level with you, “I will make this quick, ‘cuz you know I hate sappy shit.”

Alex laughs a little. Her grip on your hands is comforting, and the way she looks at you is almost in a coaching matter. She hadn’t expected such a burst of confidence either, but wasn’t about to let you face it alone.

“We’ve had our…ups and down,” you say, “and there were ‘things’ happening that I blamed you for, that I pushed you away for. But you’ve always been there. You were..the only person there.”

You feel Shuri’s hand caress the small of your back for support. You feel like crying, and you're not sure the reason for it, but you push it down and continue.

“I am grateful for you, and I’m glad I came to celebrate with you…and I love you.”

The air that was once thick when you started to speak seemed to ease when you said those last three words. And again, claps and praises flew out into the air at the confession. Alex, the much more sappier of one of the two of you, tried to keep her eyes from swelling with tears, but of course it was harder for her to do so.

“Don’t you start crying,” you say playfully through the loudness of the table, “‘cus you know if you do, then I’ma start crying, and we just gon’ be two snotty nosed bitches-”

Yet you didn’t get the chance to finish, because Alex then pulls you into her embrace. It’s tight and full of love, and she gives you no choice but to sink into it. For a second, it seems like the noise drowns out as you bask in the love from your sister, and you hear a faint ‘thank you’ being whispered into your ear right as she pulls away.

“I suppose this means it is my turn,” Shuri says sheepishly, once the embrace has finished and you’ve returned right at her side. She’d been thinking of what to day this entire time, though each scenario that she had run through her head didn’t seem worthy of a quality toast to a quality woman, “I shall try to make this toast worthy of your time, Miss Birthday Girl.”

“Sitting at this table, surrounded by all of you; it reminds me of a similar family routine that I took for granted in my youth.” Shuri’s eyes gaze from person to person as she speaks. “You see, I was too absorbed in my technological advances to truly appreciate the aspects of family dinners. The mundaneness of sitting with one another and being present. I used to want to give anything to be left to my own devices. And now, I sit at the head of the same table, with no one. I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world, and my entire family is gone.”

Another silence fills the table as everyone looks onto Shuri; her head is held high as she speaks, though, voice unwavering. She breathes when she feels your hand slip into hers.

“Alex, you are a very blessed woman to have your family here with you to celebrate a generational obstacle overcome,” the queen bids, “and for that, I propose a toast to you, and a saying from my people to yours.”

The queen picks up her red cup, and watches as each individual picks up their own, before speaking again. “To Alex, a woman of virtue and genuity. ‘Akukho mntu ngaphandle kwesidenge ophika usapho lwakhe’.”

A round of cheers sounds before everyone downs a gulp of their chosen drinks in unison, applauding Shuri for her heartfelt toast and gratitude. As the both of you sit, and light chatter begins to cover the table, your mother calls out to Shuri with a look of curiosity.

“Such a lovely quote, Shuri,” your mother says, “what does it mean?”

“Oh, the proverb,” Shuri says, “it is one my baba used to say.”

“Did he now?”

“It means ‘No one but a fool denies their family’.”

Hearing this, your gaze shifts from the food in front of you to Shuri, who sports a proud smirk as she watches your mother grow uncomfortable in her seat from the queen’s words. As if she were putting the dots together in her own head.

With Dinner done, your nephew was all too quick to pull the queen aside to continue their conversation about her fancy spaceships. While his eagerness was endearing, Shuri had to put the conversation on hold because of an important phone call that came through. You assumed that it was Ayo, a name you had heard in fleeting conversations, but knew it to be a person of importance to Shuri. A captain of her Queen’s Guard, which Shuri had respectfully asked to fall back on attending the outing with the both of you, since it was a family thing, and Shuri didn’t want Alex’s neighbors questioning why so many bald-headed women were lingering around her house.

She said she would make the call quick, five minutes at most, before stepping into the house for quiet and privacy. The loss of her presence made you slightly anxious, but you maintained your spot in the gazebo, and Alex popped in here and there. She was the host, so she had to engage with the rest of her partygoers, but you were more than grateful that she took the time out to still check in on you, despite it being her day.

You took a sip of your drink - the adult punch that had been put in the kitchen so kids couldn’t get to it - and watched the party goers enjoy themselves from the comfort of your seat. Children running around, chasing each other with sparklers; aunties and uncles dancing to the old school remix; teens making TikTok videos with dances and skits. For a moment, things were content, and everyone was happy. Normal.

For a moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt happy with your family.

“You’ve found this corner real comfortable, I see.”

The voice of your mother slips through he peaceful silence that previously covered the gazebo, and although you don’t feel it at first, your body begins to tense. She herself sports a red solo cup, though you can’t tell what’s inside of it.

She doesn’t ask to join you - just takes up a single seat across from you - and even if she were to ask, you aren’t sure if you could even mutter an answer.

“It’s been so long since you’ve left,” your mother says, “since you decided you were grown enough and left your family behind. How has life been for you?”

“Good.” You reply, short and curt, taking a sip from your drink.

“You seem more than good,” she continues, “I assume living with a queen gives you a lot of financial relief-”

“If you came over here to start shit, please don’t.” You quickly cut off. “One; my relationship is of no concern to you, but Shuri doesn’t pay for shit of mine that I have. I was good before I met her, and I’m still going good on my own.”

You weren’t sure where the sudden crossness came from, but you definitely knew it had something to do with your mother’s constant mention of Shuri, as if she held prominent importance tonight and not the other child she’d birthed. “And it’s Alex’s birthday. I’m here for her.”

Your mother scoffs at your words, “-and there you go, twistin’ my words around and making me seem like the enemy. I’m just trying to talk to you!”

“Bullshit,” you spit, rising from your seat in a quick bid to find a quick exit into an area more populated, and more importantly, away from her, “I’m not doing this with you.”

You turn to try and leave, but your mother continues to speak behind you, pushing you further, “you’re so ungrateful; after everything we’ve done for you, you can’t even show an ounce of respect to your own mother.”

In that moment your body froze on the steps of the gazebo. A dull chill awakens within you, spreading through your limbs, your skin nearly rising into goosebumps, before a wave of anger crashes in.

“Fine,” you mutter, “you wanna ‘talk’?”

You turn to face your mother once again, eyes burning holes into her face, which has the audacity to hold a look of shock. “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh, but where to begin?” You scoff. “Maybe lets talk about how you can’t seem to ever say one good thing about me. It’s always some backhanded comment that you can’t help to point out how amazing Alex was and how shitty I was in comparison-”

“-that is not true,” your mother tries to interject, “but you were - and still are - a difficult child-”

“-I wasn’t fucking difficult!” You shout, drawing a few pairs of eyes to you and your mother. “I wanted fucking attention that you weren’t giving me! And you thought beating me was the best way to get me to ‘stop acting out’?”

“It was discipline!”

“Oh, but Alex never needed it though, right?” You question. “Alex was just so perfect to yall. She got the best of everything while your little mistake became the punching bag you took your frustrations out on!”

The increasing shouting started to draw attention from the other partygoers, who muttered among themselves, wondering the reason for the altercation, questioning if they should intervene. And it only got worse when the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the backyard, making the music that played from outdoor speakers seem quiet.

Your mother, the pious, religious, righteous woman she claimed to be, just slapped you in front of the rest of your family.

“What’s going on over here?” The voice of your father bellows as he approaches the gazebo, having only made his presence known after a few gasps from seeing your mother hit you.

“I will not be disrespected by you, you ungrateful wench,” your mother seethes, “I was a damn good mother to you, even when we fell on hard times. I raised you!”

“I was a fucking kid!” You yell back. “How does a fucking adult take their anger out on their own kid!?”

“And you,” comes your voice through gritted teeth upon seeing your father coming to console your mother, which seemed to anger you even more, “dear old dad, who never ‘picked a side’. You sat there and watched as she fucked up her own kid.”

Your voice comes out more strained, wavering at the sight of your father. The man you saw treat Alex like a literal princess while you could only ever dream of being treated as such. You knew the next words you’d say were going to push his buttons - perhaps part of you wanted a reaction from him that could show that maybe, somewhere inside of him, he cared when your mother didn’t.

“If anything you’re more of a bitch than her!”

You weren’t sure what scared you more in that moment; the loud grunt and your fathers arms menacingly reaching out towards you, or the flash of black that shot across your vision right before you closed your eyes shut, anticipating something to happen.

The silence was deafening as you felt your legs stumble back into something warm but you were too scared to open your eyes yet. Of all your senses that had been stricken with tension, the first to register with reality once again was your hearing.

“I want you to think carefully about your next actions,” the queen’s voice comes out hardened and unyielding, “because I can assure you, I will not have to think about mine.”

That flash of black that had crossed your vision earlier had been Shuri. And if your eyes had been open, you yourself would have shuddered at the pure rage that was present on her face.

Shuri’s hand, albeit tiny and delicate in most cases, held your father’s wrist in a right grasp, and despite the broader man's struggles to pull free, it was futile. She was not letting him go, and neither was the intensity of her stare that held your mother’s gaze.

“If you don’t let my husband go-”

“Shut. Up.” And her words were absolute, leaving no room for question. Perhaps it was part of the authoritarian aura that she’d gained from taking on her queenship that shut your mother up, but whatever the case may have been, Shuri admits that she certainly enjoyed the look of surprise on your mother’s face.

“Alex,” Shuri says, and it now becomes clear to you that the thing you had back into was your very sister. It also became clear how tight her grip on you was, as if she were scared to let you go, “take my beloved back to my car. We will be leaving shortly.”

There’s a gentle nudge and a hushed ‘c’mon’ before you feel yourself being moved sideways, then forward, Alex doing as Shuri says and relocating you to the front of her home to get you into a safer, calmer place.

It isn’t until Shuri sees your figure disappear behind the wooden fence that she releases your father’s wrist. The man winces as he regains control of his limb, his wife bringing her hands to soothe the skin where it was beginning to turn purple from just how tight her grasp was.

Shuri turns in a slow circle, eyes scanning each and every one of the individuals who’d stood by and undoubtedly watched the scene unfold, offering no sign of intervention. “This is what your family is?” She calls out. “It is sickening.”

The guilt shines in their eyes but Shuri has none of it. To her, they are all just as guilty as your parents, for they've watched the same scene unfold many times before, and just the same, no one stood up.

The queen turns back to your parents, as she bites the inside of her cheek to control her composure. “I do not know your story,” she says, “nor do I wish to, and now, nor do I care. I only leave you with this as I leave.”

Shuri takes a step forward to your parents, jaw clenched tight and piercing eyes meeting theirs once again. “My (Y/N) will be loved…as it is clearly something neither of you could bestow upon her.”

And in the same flash of black she leaves the party, that had long gone silent, and biting her tongue so hard she thought she’d draw blood.

Exitting the back yard, Shuri comes around the front to see you and Alex sitting on the porch steps. She holds a towel to your cheek, whispering to you with care about holding the cold, wet cloth gently on your cheek to battle the inflammation. It was the first and only thing she could grab without immediately leaving your side, the green garden hose still running into the grass proof of it.

It takes everything in Shuri not to run to you, to pull you into her arms and cradle you into her embrace, to shield you from the cruelness that has surely been brought back to the forefront of your mind. There’s a pit in her stomach that churns with the pain of unease, and it eats at her as she thinks; if she had just been swifter with that call with Ayo, or better yet, not even answered at all, then you wouldn’t have been left alone, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Shuri grows closer and realizes that the both of you are crying, and her heart tightens in her chest. She bends down to meet you on eye level, resting a soothing hand on your leg. Alex holds her head in one hand, her other still grasped tightly onto your side, holding you close to her. Shuri finally understands what Alex meant when she talked about the varying levels of harm done to the sisters in their youth. You took the physical and verbal brunt, while Alex took the emotional.

“This was not suppose to happen.” Shuri hears Alex mutter, and the queen quickly cuts in before Alex has a chance to even say as such.

“It is not your fault, Alex,” the queen asserts, “you cannot be responsible for the actions of your parents.”

Alex looks up to Shuri, sniffling as their eyes connect. A beat passes before the older sister nods, though her jaw is still tight with tension. There’s a shift in Alex’s eyes, from sadness and regret, to a hardened security.

“I need to get my house in order,” she says, glancing to her side, and reluctantly peeling her arm from around your waist, “party’s officially over.”

Alex stands to do just as she intends, and as she leaves, Shuri grows closer to you. One hand rubs circles into your knee, the other one gently lifts your face up to meet hers. Your eyes are tired, likely due to adrenaline fatigue, but your body still shakes with a light tremble.

“I am taking you home.” She says, leaving no room for argument; even though, in your current state, you couldn’t refuse her if you wanted to. So when Shuri wraps her arms around you and lifts you to your feet, you all but lean into her warmth.

And the kiss she presses into the crown of your head provides reassurance that even after the events that have unfolded, with Shuri, you will be okay.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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ilydeku · 1 year ago

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how izuku talks about you (except it's written in a diff style cuz classic lit is affecting me)

Arrays of warm light illuminated the club in speckles of spotlights, a chandelier hung from the middle of the modeled ceiling, a masterpiece if you will. Stage play sign-ups, food recommendations, an ad of the market down the road that was soon to have a whole sale, and many other means of promotion and announcement were posted up in a rustic fashion against the curtained, frame molded walls. Guests were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of fresh herbs and cooked mutton that tickled their noses, seducing them into the pleasures of fine banquet. And the grand piano paired with the violin played gently.

"I've been meaning to inquire you, Midoriya. Has something been troubling you? You've been acting a bit strange lately.”

"Strange you say?” Echoed Midoriya. “I don't suppose it is quite such." His face shadowed a hue of scarlet before fessing, “You see, I am merely in love."

"Oh please, Midoriya. That can't be it. You don't know the first thing about love," sneered Bakugo, swirling a glass of pinot noir and bringing it up to his lips.

"And that is where you're wrong. To know is the question, but to feel is the answer."

Midoriya gazed at the red tulips arranged inside a crystal vase in the middle of the white linen-clothed dining table. He picked one, fiddling with its soft velvety petals. As if on cue, the movement song of the piano and violin on the stage slowed to a soft ballad waltz, almost as to mimic their change in matter. 3/4 pianissimo.

"Really now?" Bakugo placed his glass down, leaned back in his seat, and crossed him arms around his chest. Midoriya? In love? How silly. "Tell me, just who is this person who as ever so greatly captured the man's heart?"

"Oh, dear Kacchan! If only you'd seen her! You'd marvel at her!" cried Midoriya, grinning manically, eyes full of adornment. "Why, she is the most beautiful lady I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. From her flowing hair and her curious eyes to her dainty hands and her petal-like lips. Oh yes, but beauty is only the introduction to her wonderful soul! The joyous smiles, the gracious bows, the moments of pure benefaction. Her laugh..a melody to my ears, more than what these instrumentalists could ever play. What a privilege to exist around her being! I find her presence to have quite an extraordinary influence over me, as I cannot truly express how utterly submissive I appear whenever she's prominent. She's a dream I wish to be never woken from, a subtle warmth in the raging winters, an angel amongst the tainted demons of hell. My, she is indeed a wonder.”

One would believe he��d been talked out of breath, but we speak of Midoriya. With adoration at the focal point, he could go for miles on end.

“Sounds like quite a fine woman. Introduce me? I'd be humbled to meet your fancy.”

The melody of the piano played confidently until a chord and a few more were struck out of tune. Some audience before the stage frowned and clenched their teeth, able to feel the same awareness as the anxious pianist. The stem of the tulip fell from his hand and onto the table, the petals remaining intertwined with his fingers. “…I apologize, Kacchan. I cannot do that,” said Midoriya, stuffing the stem and the petals back into the vase and wiping the red residue onto the seam of his charcoal slacks. His hand smelled of earthy perfume.

“Oh? And why not?”

“Well because…there happens to be...actually-”

“Oh dear. You shall never hold her heart, as you’ve never come close it.”

“Of course, I shall. Just not yet. Else how then would I take her hand in marriage?”

“Pfft. Marry her?” Bakugo scoffed, fixing the wrinkles out of the herringbone suit that bore around his chest loosely. “Why you don’t even have any sort of connection with her! She has no conscience of your very existence! What’s her name, hm? How foolish to even think of such matters!” He laughed heartedly and motioned for the waiter to pour him another glass. Midoriya frowned, grabbing a strawberry tart from the small tray of desserts placed just beside the tulips.

“I do not care about your viewpoint on this matter. When I say I want to wed her, I mean it.” He bit the strawberry tart. “I doubt you’ve ever had possession of these feelings, Kacchan. You could never understand me and my love for her. I'm going to introduce myself to her tomorrow afternoon and invite her for a cup of rose tea, maybe delve into delicate conversations. No matter, I want to be with her. I cannot see a future with her out of my existence.”

#i tried #w.midizu #izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #deku x y/n #mha x reader #deku x you #drabbles

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empiredesimparte · 8 days ago

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⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | N°28 | Francesim, Palais des Tuileries, Paris, 13 Fructidor An 230

Emperor Napoleon V and Empress Charlotte have announced the joyous news of the upcoming arrival of their first child, the future heir to the throne of Francesim. This is a momentous occasion for the imperial couple and the entire nation, which eagerly awaits the birth of this child. While the baby’s gender and name remain closely guarded secrets, anticipation is already palpable among the people, who are preparing to celebrate this new addition to the imperial lineage with great enthusiasm.

As Francesim rejoices at the news of the imperial couple’s first child, a pressing question fills public conversations and speculations: will Emperor Napoleon V be at his wife’s side in the coming months? This question is especially pertinent given the Regency, which allows the Empress to govern in the Emperor’s absence as he pursues military training.

In this unprecedented situation, observers wonder if the sovereign, already far from the palace, might set aside his ambitions temporarily to support Charlotte through this crucial period. The answer to this question could well shape the coming months and further endear the young imperial family to the French people.

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

⚜ Traduction française

L’Empereur Napoléon V et l’Impératrice Charlotte ont révélé l’heureuse nouvelle de l’arrivée prochaine de leur premier enfant, futur héritier du trône de Francesim. C'est un événement marquant pour le couple impérial, mais aussi pour toute la nation, qui se réjouit d'accueillir ce bébé. Si le sexe et le prénom de l'enfant restent encore des secrets bien gardés, l'attente est déjà palpable au sein du peuple, qui se prépare à célébrer avec ferveur cet héritier de la lignée impériale.

Alors que la Francesim célèbre l'annonce du premier enfant du couple impérial, une question brûlante anime les conversations et les spéculations. De nombreux Français s'interrogent : l'Empereur Napoléon V sera-t-il aux côtés de son épouse, l'Impératrice Charlotte, durant ces prochains mois ? Cette interrogation prend tout son sens dans le contexte de la Régence, mise en place pour permettre à l'Impératrice de gouverner en l'absence de son époux, parti parfaire sa formation militaire.

Avec cette situation inédite, les observateurs se demandent si le souverain, déjà engagé loin du palais, pourra s'accorder une pause dans ses ambitions pour soutenir Charlotte durant cette période cruciale. Une question dont la réponse pourrait bien influencer le cours des prochains mois et nourrir encore davantage l'attachement des Français pour leur jeune famille impériale.

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quintessencewrites · 2 years ago

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Heavy is the Head Queen Ramonda x Wakandan!reader

The nonchalant shrug makes a return. "She said I'm not a doll."

Your hands raked through her tight curls, expertly. "You're my doll."

Warnings: honestly, none. fluff. implied sad ending.

Word Count: 2.3k+

Tag List: @percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir

Requested by anonymous forever ago.

I really like your hair! Your beads are so pretty!-Ramonda

The tiny girl bounced on her toes, eyes grazing the ground. The square of paper she held out to you almost blew away in the light breeze.

She couldn't have imagined the smile her words would bring forth from you.

The sound of your beads knocking together was like music to her ears. She loved how the wind blew the smell of your cocoa butter and tea tree oil-scented plaits straight to her nostrils.

"Thank you!" your voice ringing out made her heart swell. "I did them myself."

Her bright, cocoa-colored eyes grew three sizes. "You did them yourself? All by yourself?"

"All by myself," you giggled a wonderful-sounding melody. "I could do yours too! We can match!"

She nodded hard, beadless braids recoiling with each bob of her head. "You wouldn't mind? I would love that!"

"I wouldn't mind." Your hand outstretched, grabbing hold of hers and squeezing tight. "I'm y/n."

Her smile was so gleaming, the missing two front teeth not taking away from her dazzling grin. "Ramonda."

Hi y/n. My mama said you can't play in my hair anymore. -Ramonda

"This didn't have to be a note, Ramonda."

She shrugged, taking her place between your knees and sitting back. "Notes have kind of become our thing."

"We don't have a thing, Mondie. And why did umama say that?"

The nonchalant shrug makes a return. "She said I'm not a doll."

Your hands raked through her tight curls, expertly. "You're my doll."

Ramonda blushed, settling into your touch and laying her head back to allow you better access.

"Do you want me to stop doing your hair?"

She didn't even have to think before she responded. "No. You're not playing in my hair if I ask you to do it."

Hey y/n. Mom pressed my hair, but she bumped the ends. Can you fix it? -Ramonda

Usually, Ramonda loved the sound of your laughter. The joyous sound pulled her from her darkest moments and she especially loved it when she was the one who made you laugh.

Except for right now. Right now, you were laughing at her instead of with her. "Y-you look like that-that American singer, J-James, something... Oh! James Brown!"

If looks could kill... Ramonda wouldn't go that far, but the glare she was giving you right now was something serious.

She stomped over to you, curls bouncing with each step. "Just fix it, y/n/n. And shut up."

Her defeated figure sunk into her usual spot between your legs and your hands gravitated towards her scalp like a magnet.

"I got you, Mondie."

Y/n! I am tired of walking around with this matted mess on my head. Come braid it for me. -Ramonda

"I could have been over here sooner if you hadn't sent a note via carrier pigeon."

"My brother is not a carrier pigeon," Ramonda chuckled as you walked through the door.

She sat on the floor, awaiting your arrival. Seeing you walk into her room always brought a smile to her face and this time was no different.

The two of you settled into your habitual positions and your skilled and gentle hands flew to work.

"I'm glad you called for me though, Mondie."

Ramonda's heart melted at the affection. "You are?"

"I have to talk to you about something."

Anxiety pooled through her veins. She didn't know what you would say, but she hoped, prayed, and longed that it would be what she wanted to hear.

"I'm leaving, Mondie."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear...

"Y-you're leaving?"

"Yes..."

"O-okay," she stuttered. "W-where to? Why?"

"I'm going to the States, Mondie. Cosmetology school."

The States. Seas away. An ocean away. Hundreds of thousands of miles away.

"W-why so f-far away?"

"I just want to venture out. I got accepted into a school over there, so why not go?"

Ramonda's heart could name a thousand reasons why. A million. Because Wakanda was home. Because she was here. Because she loved you.

She loved you... She'd never said it... She hadn't even been so sure of it herself... Until today.

A young Ramonda wanted you to stay. She knew you would if she confessed. Then you could stay in Wakanda. You could stay there, with her. You two could build together; be together...

She didn't though. She didn't say any of that. Instead, she told you what she knew you wanted to hear.

"That's awesome, y/n/n. You're going to do so amazingly over there."

I think I'm ready for a change, y/n. I tried to do it myself because you are away, but my parts aren't straight and everything is sticking up all around my head. Will you start my locs? -Ramonda

"Our thing has upgraded from notes to letters?" You stepped into Ramonda's home, arms wide open. She was beyond happy to sink into your touch.

"Well, how am I supposed to use a carrier pigeon when you're still in America?"

Ramonda had missed you dearly. Days were too long to go without you, but months? Years?

"You really want me to loc your hair, Mondie? That's a big commitment."

Nothing had changed between two old friends and it was evident when Ramonda took place between your legs.

"It's a commitment I'm ready to make with you."

Hello y/n, my bestest friend. It's been a while. I... I'm betrothed to T'Chaka. I need a wedding 'do from the best and my maid of honor by my side. -Ramonda

"You're getting married?"

"How is that your first hello after several years?"

Ramonda's joy upon seeing you hadn't faded. Just as every time before, her heart swelled at your presence.

Her breath caught in her chest when you stepped closer, grabbing her hands and pulling her face-to-face.

It was all Ramonda needed to know her feelings hadn't diminished.

"You're getting married, Mondie?" You asked voice barely a whisper.

"I'm getting married, y/n/n/."

T'Chaka was a gentleman, he was kind, and he was infatuated with her. He was everything her family wanted for Ramonda and more.

She loved him, but she wasn't in love with him.

"Mondie... You're gonna be queen?"

"I-I'm gonna be Queen..."

I am pregnant, y/n! And it's a boy! Thank Bast. I can keep his hair cut short and it'll be so easy to style. Come! I want you by my side when he enters the world. -Ramonda

The small boy was barely the size of your forearm. He rested so peacefully, so gently in your hold.

Ramonda rested, watching you with slitted lids. It was a sight she'd always dreamt of, one she would have never imagined she'd actually see.

She just wished it were true.

"What will you call him?"

Your question shook the queen. "You knew I was awake?"

"I know you, Mondie."

She hummed at the affectionate name, the one you'd adorned her with back in your childhood.

"His name is T'Challa."

"Hi little T'Challa," you cooed at the boy. "You're my baby, now."

Now it was Ramonda's melodic laughter that chimes in your ears. "You are not taking my child back to the States."

"Then I'll come home, Mondie."

Ramonda couldn't believe her ears. Tears flowed from her mocha orbs. She'd been praying for you to return home, to return to her, for years.

"Will you? Really, y/n? You'll come home?"

"I'm coming home."

They lied to me, y/n. T'Challa's hair is just as high maintenance. -Ramonda

"You don't think it's too soon, y/n?" Ramonda was anxiously leaning over your shoulder, eyes glued to her baby boy and the scissors in your hand.

"Are you going to comb, wash, braid, or twist his hair, Mondie?"

Silence washed over her. She was considering it. For whatever reason, cutting T'Challa's hair felt like cutting a string of her heart.

Ramonda tried, she really had. She tried to comb and wash the matted 'fro, but his little lungs held a lot of power, and combined with his shrill voice, she left with ringing ears.

Her attempt at braiding and twisting became a chunky, tangled mess. So she gave up.

"Cut it. But be gentle..."

Y/n, Bast has a vendetta against me. A baby girl... Is it acceptable for me to shave her hair as well? -Ramonda

"I will break your fingers if you shave any of this big, beautiful hair!"

A small Shuri squirmed in your lap, trying really hard to escape your hold on her head.

"She won't let me do it, y/n!" Ramonda was beyond frustrated with her young daughter. Shuri's hair had gone undone for far too long and her poor mother was seconds away from grabbing the clippers.

"Would you even know what to do with it if she did let you?"

"No, I wouldn't... That's why I have you, y/n/n."

"That's why you have me, Mondie."

Y/n, my old friend. Shuri no longer wants beads and bows. What do I do with her hair now? -Ramonda

"Ma! Umama is trying to make me wear these giant bows in my hair. I'm too old for that!"

You barely had time to step through the door before Shuri approached you, her mama hot on her heels.

Your existence normally brought Ramonda peace, but right now, it wasn't working. Her heart was broken; her little girl didn't want to be her little girl anymore.

"Mondie," you addressed your first favorite girl just as your second favorite girl bombarded you with a hug. "She's too old for the bows and the beads."

Ramonda stopped in her tracks. Of course, it would take your words to finally get through to her. "Sh-she is?"

"She is."

"I am, mother."

Shuri is asking for box braids, y/n. I am not even going to attempt it. -Ramonda

Ramonda was always amazed by how your fingers flew when you worked, and how the focus was etched across your face so beautifully.

"I can feel you staring at me, Mondie."

Blush rose to her cheeks. "I am just admiring your work."

"Get a room, you two," Shuri's light voice rang out from under your touch.

The deja-vu was clear to both you and Ramonda. The same hands that always worked so tenderly on her own scalp were now showing the same love to her daughter.

Ramonda wasn't lost on that. And somehow, she loved you even more for it.

Yn... I need you, my dear. My T'Challa... Please, my y/n... Make Bast bring him back... -Ramonda

The shears were heavy in your hands. Ramonda sat between your legs, head resting on your thighs and arms engulfing your calf in a tense hug.

Shuri sat in the corner, knees pulled to her chest, silent. She hadn't spoken since you'd arrived, just pulling you in for a hug and crying into your chest as you offered up some solitude.

Ramonda fell into your touch, sighing at the hand that ran through her frizzy locs.

"Are you sure, Mondie?"

Your old friend, your best friend, nodded slowly. Her heartbreak was mirrored in your own. Bast knows you just wanted to hold her and take the pain away. But Bast had also just taken away everything Ramonda lived for...

Tears rolled down your face when you finally raised the blade to snip that first loc. It fell to the ground in an eerie silence.

Then the second and third loc. Before long, it was her whole head. You ran your fingers through Ramonda's short curls. They hadn't been that short since you two were children.

Your mind wandered to your first meeting. The shy girl who approached you transformed into this broken monarch.

All you could do was lift her head and place a gentle kiss on her forehead as your tears ran down her face. "I love you, Mondie."

It was finally the words she'd wanted to hear, after all these years. But now, it couldn't mend her shattered heart.

"Shuri," you called softly to the princess trying to hide behind her own shadow. "It's your turn, my love."

I think the short style is growing on me. -Forever yours, Ramonda

"The short curls suit you, Mondie."

Again, she was seated between your legs while your hands ran through her gray 'fro. This time, however, you weren't styling her hair. You were just sitting, enjoying each other's company, just taking up space together.

"It's grown out quite a bit since you cut it. Do you like it?" The queen's question threw you off guard.

"Of course I like it. I did it," the joke fell from your lips, bringing a smile to Ramonda's. "Why did you write me a note to tell me that you like your hair?"

"I've always told you, y/n/n. Notes are our thing."

"I guess they are, Mondie."

Ramonda turned to face you, eyes glistening. "You're finally admitting it?"

You brought your face closer to hers, so close that you could feel her warm breath and her intoxicating scent mixing, pulling you in further.

"I love you, Ramonda. I'm finally admitting that. Not the notes thing. We've been doing it for years, I thought you'd outgrown it decades ago.”

The Queen felt as though her heart would burst. She was finally hearing it. The words she'd prayed to hear so, so many years ago. After decades, Ramonda confessed.

"I love you, y/n."

"It's about time you said it, Mondie."

"You knew?"

Your hands ran a comforting touch down Ramonda's back. "I knew. I'm just annoyed that you would finally say it before I have to leave for the States for a few."

"I know, I know. Y/n/n, the big shot. Going back to America to teach the rookies how it's done. Leaving me behind."

Ramonda froze when your face inched closer to hers, so close your noses were touching.

"I'll never leave you behind, Mondie."

#quintessence writes #queen ramonda #shuri x reader #ramonda x reader #black panther #black panther 2 #wakanda #princess shuri #angela bassett #letitia wright #letitia wright shuri #ramonda

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toonilumi · 3 months ago

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and more artfight attacks! joyous day!

Baily - dalmispotsu

Lulamae - @cursedsune-vhssea

Cordelia - mawwymawwy

Spade - dalmispotsu

Valerie - @piiking

Bianca - eelingood

Spade + Haia + Bernice - dalmispotsu, @brialot , and @loud-sound

Noir + Portia - @chais-corner and @ichthyolid

Mantid + Hibiki - 0046incognito

Spade + Haia + Bernice - see above i dont wanna type that out again 😭

#artfight #artfight 2024 #team stardust #pokemon #toontown #fanart #lumi art #lumi fanart

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kerwinthefrog · 2 months ago

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The Boys Incorrect Quotes #4

Edgar: “I wonder how that happened, my money must’ve been clouding my vision.”

---

Edgar: “Come in. I’d open the door, but I have too much money.”

---

Hughie: “I’m dyslexic.”

Soldier Boy: “That’s a digital clock.”

Hughie: “Are you making fun of my dyslexia?”

Soldier Boy: “Yes.”

---

Frenchie: “I’d like an order of kids dino nuggets please. Only two nuggets.”

---

Homelander: (shaking with anger) “JOYOUS, Saint Nicholas?” Is it joyous to come home everyday with those little red peppermints stuck in your beard and mustache? Joyous to spend hours picking them out? Is that JOYOUS, SAINT NICHOLAS?!”

A-Train: “Well if you don’t like the red ones they make green ones, too.”

Homelander: “THOSE ARE EVEN WORSE.”

---

Ashley: “Was that even hair dye?”

A-Train: “Well…it might have been cement.”

Ashley: (dies inside)

Homelander: “You know, we do have a sale on buzzcuts.”

---

A-Train: “Can you tilt your head back?” (breaks Starlight’s head over the back of the chair)

---

Frenchie: “You’ve been gone for weeks!”

Kimiko: “It’s been three hours.”

---

Ryan: “Is Dad in trouble?”

Becca: “Of course not, Sweetie!” (looks at Homelander and violently clears throat)

---

Becca: “Where’s the dream of our marriage?!”

Butcher: “IT’S GONE WITH THE STONEMASONS!”

---

Deep: “Sorry I got a little something in my throat.”

Maeve: “ARE YOU EATING THE BINGO CHIPS?!”

---

Edgar: “Do you see what this bowl says?”

Homelander: “Take 50.”

Edgar: “TAKE ONE.”

---

Starlight: (to Hughie) “Who’s the one with a job in this house?”

---

Starlight: “That’s practically breaking the law!”

Homelander: “You wanna see a broken law? ‘Cuz I’m about to break one in a second!”

---

Homelander: “How many years have you worked here?”

Ashley: “Roughly 50.”

Homelander: “And yet you screwed up the easiest job possible and now there are couches outside the fire escape! And you worked here for how many years?”

Ashley: “Roughly 60.”

Starlight: “I don’t think I want this job. This seems hard.”

Homelander: “No, no. Ashley’s just having old age issues.”

Ashley: “I’m 23!”

Homelander: “50-60?! Ashley you’re crazy!”

---

Hughie: (undercover) “My name is Jeremiah, master of cryptozoology you will not address me as Who Are You!”

Noir: (head down) “Come here so I can see your shoes! That’s how I identify people!”

---

A-Train: “Because you worship the ground he walks on! Every morning–” (high-pitched voice) “Master! Master! Can I get you a glass of water? Master!”

#billy butcher #hughie campbell #the boys #kevin moskowitz #mother's milk #starlight #a train #frenchie #homelander #the deep #the boys incorrect quotes #the boys tv #shit my friends say #ooc

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tinylongwing · 4 months ago

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For the top 5/top 10 meme: top character arcs!

Oh jeez! Okay this is awesome, let me dig deep into my brain. Also there's no way I remember every character arc I've ever witnessed so this is just gonna be the first good ones that come to mind, haha.

For my Lord Huron folks, I'm going with Lee Green as one answer. Girl!! You champion! Takes off on her own to try and make a career work for herself in the big city of Los Angeles after bailing on 1960s Detroit and her loser boyfriend. Winds up hooked on vide noir while in the clutches of Z'Oiseau who basically just collects pretty girls as temporary trophies because he's some fucking cosmic horror creep I guess, but somehow she gets out of that? Kicks her addiction, takes back her stage name and releases multiple albums and lives her dreams. Lee, how did you manage this when basically every other character winds up dead or suffering or missing. Good heavens.

And no okay I can't resist, I'm putting another LH-er in here because my boy Johnnie Redmayne is too ridiculous. Is this even a character arc? Yes. Kid lives a life of joyous violence and hedonism in a gang, risk-taking coupled with a need to support his friends and family monetarily leads to his kidnapping and murder, but then he's like fuck that, death sucks! I don't want to die, that's boring and also getting murdered via cosmic horror drug overdose is a real big nightmare which probably unlocked some really terrible secrets he'd rather not reflect on. Nope, better to just come back, now undead, out of sheer stubborn refusal to accept death! That's way cooler. Party on, haunting desert travelers forever. Child, you're doing great and I support you.

Okay, One Piece is also like ridiculously chock full of amazing characters with the world's most unnecessarily fleshed out and traumatizing backstories, and everyone who knows me knows that I'm very much here for Trafalgar Law. Yeah yeah, and Rosinante, but look, Law is the actual major character here who grows so much as he sees his whole world burning down around him as a child, goes from self-destructive and nihilistic to learning to trust and love people again to the point where he will always put himself in harm's way before even letting anyone touch a hair on his crew's heads. Such a wholesome goth. So much found family.

Having relatively recently watched Twin Peaks (FINALLY I know) I have to put Dale Cooper in here. This is not a positive character arc, this is a man whose joy and brilliance and successes against some really dark forces led him to thinking he was capable of anything in the pursuit of justice and truth. Turns out that was probably wrong! Whoops! And now he's possibly doomed? Look, the ending of Twin Peaks is massively open-ended but Cooper is very much a deeply tragic character and I'm kind of obsessed with tragedy and bad endings.

And I'm going to stop at five or I'll never get any work done, so fifth here will be.... hm. You know what, Seo-bi from Netflix's Kingdom. I can't get enough of characters in a scientific or medical sort of role in period dramas, I think that's very very good (and Goodsir from The Terror was a very near fifth choice here for some similar reasons). But I love Seo-bi in particular because she has knowledge, she uses it, she perseveres despite so many challenges including politics and also literal zombies, and the show continually throws a couple of characters at her that look like they're supposed to be love interests and she's always like NO! Fuck off! I'm doing important medical work here, I have no time for kissing!!! And that's very powerful of her and I love that for her so much. I'm sad that this series appears to be on hold maybe forever now.

#ask meme

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moominofthevalley · 11 months ago

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The Girl with the Glass

Trystan finds a mysterious scrapbook. Emily has a deep conversation with a stranger.

trystan x emily

teen | wc: 2.5k | cw: mentions of grief

cfwc prompt: ‘visiting a holiday market’ & ‘the holidays won’t be the same now that they’re gone’

a/n: happy holidays, everyone! this drabble is inspired by an influx of things – mostly my favorite film, “amélie,” if you couldn’t tell by the title. (which, of course, is not-so-subtle-symbolism). enjoy! ♡

“It’s your turn, Trystan!”

Snow sprinkled downwards, little husks of angels drooping to the wintry ground. Crowds of faces walked the busy New York streets, surrounded by shiny knickknacks and dusty clothes. Cheeks were stained pink, and lips curled upwards in the holiday spirit. Trystan urged out a cocky grin, arms around Emily’s waist.

“Is it, now?”

“Yes, it is! I’ll go and get something for us to eat.”

Trystan pecked her forehead, whispering, “Do something good!” before disappearing into the crowd. He grew fond of these new habits of love, searching for a trinket to take back to their hearth.

It was a silly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. It began with a scratched Pierrot figurine Emily bought from a vintage shop. Ivory skin and porcelain eyes, and a black-and-white costume with a frilled collar. Like some haunted elf on the shelf, the clown explored the apartment all by itself – according to Trystan, at least. The second well-loved piece was a gift from Marguerite: a brass ladybug ashtray. Neither Emily nor Trystan smoked, though the aureate bug was far too interesting to be thrown away. The most recent find was a print of Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party Emily purchased from a local art gallery. Both of them adored it; the celebration of warmth and good company, the splendid wines and fruits, calmness and beauty in the mundane. Drinks and company aside, Emily was far more fascinated with the girl with the glass. A sullen woman drinking wine in a sea of chatting strangers.

It was Trystan’s turn, and he was keen on finding an old book of sorts. He insisted on a leather novel of yellowed papers and annotated lines, with intricate Victorian details along the spine. Trystan paused, exhilarated at the antique booth before him. Forgotten scrapbooks, noir polaroids, rotten thrown-away cameras, and fringed lamps cornered him with an enticement to explore.

Emily wandered around the opposite side of the market, searching for food vendors. A strange harmony bubbled inside her; a soft scent, a beam from the clouded sun. She breathed in the scent of chestnuts and red wine, a wintry chill slipping through her bones. Silver bells danced in the December wind, faces greeting each other with a blissful smile. It was a perfect moment, a painting from her own eyes.

On the sidewalk stood a white-haired woman in a vibrant Christmas sweater, her cane tapping the frozen ground. Breaths escaped her parted lips in subtle clouds of white. Trystan’s words repeated in Emily’s head, a determination settling within her. This was peace and contentment; the mundanity of a random December afternoon.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need help?”

“Yes, please!”

“Careful of the curb, here we go!”

The woman held onto the cane, her other hand wrapped around Emily’s. Her heart burst at the scene developing around her. Laughs and joyous days echoed around her, the wind so sweet she gulped for more.

“Hear that? That’s a florist laughing, he has crinkly eyes! A booth that smells like eucalyptus and rose is selling crystals and botanical postcards. The food truck across them is selling lollipops and hot cocoa for children. A farmer’s booth has rows of persimmons, oranges, and tangerines. Next to the fruits, a baby is watching her dad throw his hat in the air. We’re at the end of the market, there’s a bookstore and a vinyl shop in front of us. I’ll leave you here, goodbye!”

The elderly woman struck out a pleased laugh, touched by moments folding around her. Memories of today fell like dominoes, scattering about like new snow. Her cheeks shined pink as Emily cradled her hand, stilling the woman’s trembling fingers.

“Have a good day,” She whispered before walking off.

“Wait,” The woman called out, “Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat!” * * * *

Emily and the white-haired woman split an orange and two empanadas on a quiet bench. Emily, of course, peeled the oranges in thirds, ignoring the pith underneath her nails.

Familiarity struck her as she handed the woman an orange. Her father’s willow-leaved eyes resembled the stranger’s. Perhaps in another life, Jimmy Rose grew old and never walked the grounds of Box Thirty-Two. To breathe with wrinkled skin and grey hairs, lines creasing about his lips and forehead.

“What’s your name?”

“Diana.”

“I’m Emily,” she hid the third orange wedge in her coat pocket, “Do you like the food?”

“I love it,” Diana grinned, “God, that vendor was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

Emily gulped, taken aback, “How could you tell?”

The other woman laughed and patted her lap, “Partial blindness. I can only see things if I’m up close.”

“Oh!” Emily blushed awkwardly, “I’m sorry – I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry.”

“But, er, yes, the vendor was beautiful.”

Diana perked up, casting an amused grin, “Are you a lesbian?”

“Bisexual. My partner wanted to check this market out. He’s looking for…I dunno, some trinket to take home, and I told him I’d get us some food. Are you…also…?”

Diana nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Sixty-eight. And you?”

“Twenty-eight,” Diana winced.

“Don’t worry, it does get better.”

Emily shrugged, unconvinced. Her bones were brittle as if made of glass, jaded memories of Drakovia hitting her like violent waves against a sandy beach. Grief thrashed inside her head so intensely she’d wake up in the night, begging for air. There was avoiding it, no going under or over it. Whether she’d acknowledge it or not, trauma and grief permeated her life.

“When?” Emily asked innocently, her eyes burning. Diana scooted slightly closer, resting her wrinkled hand over Emily’s.

“When does it get better?” Emily nodded, cringing at her childish question, “However long it takes. Eventually…it’ll pass.”

It had been sixteen years. Sixteen years, and it had, indeed, not passed. She swore that she’d be done with everything by twenty. That foolish promise broke, and twenty-eight was no different than twenty. All that was left of Jimmy Rose’s legacy was a cruel memory.

“It’s been almost twenty years. I don’t think it will.”

Emily gritted her teeth, furrowing her fingers into her hands until they became beet red. With a blink of an eye, she was no longer the famed private detective who took down the Heartache Killer; but a tall child with no father.

“Oh, Emily,” Diana cooed, “I’m so sorry. But that’s simply not true,” She murmured, struggling to find the right words, “Nothing lasts forever. Things pass, lives go on, and it feels fucking awful when you’re…stuck. But when we are stuck, all we have is each other. To get by, at least.”

Emily’s walls began crumbling. Her hands instinctively covered her face, sheltering herself from the world. Diana granted her some space, moving closer to the other end of the bench.

“I’m sorry,” Emily rubbed her face, grasping at anything to change the subject. With a pained sigh, she uttered, “Y’know, I don’t really like Christmas. I just–I’m just here because of a stupid tradition.”

“I don’t either,” Diana said, “But my wife loved it. Every year, God bless her soul, she’d always cook the worst beef wellington ever!” Diana with a familiar gleefulness, “I’d always eat it. I mean, it was atrocious and entirely raw, but she cooked it. Made with love…and absolutely no seasoning. I would do anything to have it this year.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Emily whispered, “Her wellington must’ve made your day. My dad took me to Rockefeller Square every year until he passed. I always thought he was a king for that,” She chuckled, “I remember seeing it for the first time. I didn’t even know trees got that big.”

“He sounds like an amazing Dad. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I try to remember the good things about him. It helps keep his spirit alive.”

Inklets of snow trailed down and stained their hair, solemness in the wind. Emily cleared her throat, pushing past the silence.

“Can you tell me more about your wife?”

“Of course,” Diana beamed, “Her name was Dani. She lived in the apartment next to mine. She was an amazing pianist - I’d always hear her playing through the walls. One day, I knocked on her door and asked if I could listen to her.”

“Do you remember what song she played?”

“Yes! It was, hm, ‘Camptine?’ No – ‘Comptine d’un autre été.’ You really should listen to it sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to that…how long were you two together?”

“Twenty years and ninety-eight days – but who’s counting? We were completely different,” Diana’s face grew serious, “And she was so different in the end, too. It’s odd to see someone die when they’re already gone and so, so small.”

Emily fiddled with her hands, jaws clenched, “I’m so sorry, Diana. I can’t imagine losing–” She choked on a small pit in her throat, “I just can’t imagine a loss like that.”

“Thank you. The two of us had an amazing life. We really did. I mean – sometimes I still see her, even in little things, I still feel her with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see her everywhere,” Diana’s lips quivered, “I see her when it rains, and I think of the song she played for me when we first met. I saw La Traviata last summer, and all I thought about was her. Whenever I walk by a deli, I think of her God-awful beef wellington.”

A glint of doubt shimmered in Emily’s eye. Uncertainty twisted her insides, striking with fierce ripples of despair and mourning.

“Listen to me,” Diana said sternly, “One day at a time is all we got. So go on and live. But, when the time does come…kiss his forehead, rub his feet, play a song. It will be hard, and I don’t think it will ever go away completely. But I promise – after some time, you’ll wake up and feel, maybe not better, but as if you’ve adjusted to the pain of it all. And then it won’t hurt so much.”

A surge of preemptive grief washed over Emily, though tears never flooded her eyes. The burdens of the past and deaths of the future weren’t gone, but instead quiet and still in her mind. Death is only a moment, a bitter soul slipping into the next room. Two words repeated in Emily’s head until she was content.

“Thank you. I never thought of it that way…thank you.”

Easy silence lay upon them, the words shared by each other warm in their throats. Flurries of unknown faces passed by, snowflakes tangling in their hair with ease. Spotting Trystan in the crowd of strangers, Emily greeted the mischievous smirk on his face, hands tucked behind his back.

“Hey partner,” Trystan kissed the top of Emily’s head, “And who’s this?”

“I’m Diana…and you must be who Emily was telling me about!”

“Oh, yeah? What’d she tell you?”

“Your deepest and darkest secrets, obviously,” Emily deadpanned, “...You hiding something back there?”

With a smug grin, Trystan unveiled a wrapped gift. He chuckled, “You’ll see! I’ll show you later.”

“Hey, I also got you something!” Emily grabbed the orange slice from her pocket, wiping away tiny beads of lint. Trystan’s face lit up, mouth agape.

“I love you. Thank you,” Trystan pecked her forehead once more before biting into the citrus, “And it was lovely meeting you, Diana. I hope Emily didn’t tell you every secret of mine.” Diana laughed, shaking his hand.

“Of course not. And Emily?” She whispered into her ear, “Remember what you’re here for.”

* * * *

“Do I seriously need to be blindfolded for this?”

“I mean,” He pressed his hands tight against Emily’s eyes, “Yeah, you do.”

Emily grumbled, rolling her eyes through the thick wad of fabric tied around her head. A week had passed since she met Diana, and all that was in her mind were her tender words. Emily fixed her pout, forcing a tooth-shining smirk as Trystan led her across the apartment.

“The things I do for you.”

“Careful, darling,” Trystan gently moved her away from hitting the coffee table, “And sit…err, right here!”

“Can I take the blindfold off now?”

“Not yet!”

Sounds of scuffling surrounded her, and Emily grew curious. Trystan had been hiding something since the trip to the market. Whenever she’d mentioned it, he’d waggle a finger to his lips and utter gibberish.

Emily scoffed, amused, “Is this about that thing you got last week?” Trystan snickered with a childlike excitement.

“...Maybe.”

The tussling stopped, and Trystan sat beside her. Resting a hand on her thigh, he grinned, “Okay! You can take it off now.”

“Oh…my God!”

A leatherbound scrapbook and a dainty film camera plastered with Hello Kitty stickers sat across them. Colorful children’s doodles scuffed the book cover, crayons covering every inch. Squiggly letters in blue and red revealed the title: RoSe fAmilY aDveNtureS. Emily gasped, flooded with faint memories of her father. With flushed cheeks, she turned to Trystan and gawked.

“Trystan!” Emily squealed, “You found this last week?”

“Mhm,” He bobbed his head, “I showed it to Tommy to make sure. He said he must’ve accidentally donated it while cleaning up the attic. It…may or may not have taken me a long time to figure out how to use the camera – but it works! I’ll hook it up to the TV, okay?”

“I fucking love you.”

Emily and Trystan flipped page after page, soaking in long-forgotten moments of Emily’s past. At the top of each page contained a laminated label. Little Emily as San, Halloween 2002. Trip to Luzon, June 2005. Fluffernutters and Chocolate Rocks!

Stacks of polaroids were taped against each other, smiles and blissful memories in every photo. One quickly seized Trystan’s attention. ‘2001’ was written at the hem of the photo. At the center, a pigtailed Emily smiled widely at the camera, boasting her half-eaten yan yan.

“God,” Emily grazed her thumb over the polaroid, “I can’t believe you found this.”

“Me too. Maybe we can look through Tommy’s attic sometime. There has to be other books we can find.”

“Can we look through the camera now?”

“Of course!”

Emily grinned at Trystan, warmed by his gift. It’d been years since her heart grew so fondly, a quiet ease running through her body. Her bones were, indeed, not made of glass. She was not brittle and weak, but rather brimming with love and sentiment. Pain and sorrow were in her veins, too, yet on this still and snowy morning, Emily was at peace.

* * * * A/N: This fic was both such a pain and so nice to write lol. I wanted to give a little thank you to @jerzwriter @lexicook74-blog and @logolepzy for helping me edit this fic! Thank you all so much for your feedback, I appreciate you all SO much.

Tags: @choicesprompts @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @jonathanmoores @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @icarusfallsforever @kyra75 @calisomnia (let me know if else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

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kasienda · 4 days ago

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Aftermath Ch 9 - A Life Worth Sharing

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Read on Ao3

Chapter 9 - A Life Worth Sharing

Ladybug dove off the building. Her stomach dropped in a way that had become familiar long ago. She laughed in exhilaration as the string of her yo-yo swung her back up with the wind whipping her hair around her face.

A shadow passed overhead, accompanied by a familiar joyous whoop.

She laughed again, and shot off her yo-yo towards a beam of the Eiffel Tower. She pulled herself up to the platform. He was there waiting.

He stood taller than her, even draped casually over the end of his staff. His feline eyes sparkled from behind his mask as he turned a boyish grin in her direction.

Her heart leapt and she forgot how to breathe.

It had been so long.

“Same as yesterday, m’lady?”

Her throat lodged closed. She could only nod. She had missed him, looked for him around corners and in the shadows for years. And here he was before her, like no time had passed.

He launched himself upwards, and she followed him, her laughter echoing his own. She would follow him anywhere.

If only he had left her a trail of breadcrumbs.

My favorite moments are with you, he had said ages ago.

Why had she never realized it was the same for her? She needed to tell him.

“Chaton! Wait!”

But he didn’t wait. He couldn’t wait when there was an akuma to fight. And Hawkmoth’s latest villain towered over everything like a purple Godzilla come to life, crushing buildings and street lamps like they were toys.

It didn’t make sense. They had defeated Hawkmoth.

That’s when she had lost him.

He stood on the edge of Gamer 2.0’s platform. Far too close to the edge, and her heart pulsed in her throat.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He smiled, his eyes wide with complete trust that she didn’t deserve. “Buying you some time.”

“Noo!”

But he was already falling backwards.

Before he hit the ground, she flipped around to face Timebreaker who surged forward to tag her. But before they could, Chat Noir was there once again shielding her with his body. She was helpless as his solid weight on her faded into nothing, no heavier than air.

It was only when she stood against Yan Luo Shi that she realized she was watching him die.

Was she destined to lose him over and over? To watch him die again and again?

But he didn’t die. She brought him back.

Hawkmoth lunged forward with a blade. But it wasn’t Hawkmoth. It was Gabriel Agreste.

She blocked him once with her spinning yo-yo. He struck again and again. She blocked, and she dodged, but she was losing ground. She stepped on an unexpected piece of rubble, and slipped. He broke past her guard. The blade lunged for her neck.

She blocked it with her bare hand. Excruciating pain lanced from her palm up her arm. But it was Chat Noir screaming in agony, like he had been the one struck.

She would have teased him if holding the blade through the blinding pain wasn’t taking every ounce of her attention. And it wasn’t a bad thing. His scream anchored her. When she could focus on his distress hers didn’t seem so all consuming.

He tackled Hawkmoth - no, Gabriel Agreste - to the ground - the sword dissolving into a cloud of black ash before it hit the ground. She stumbled forward at the sudden lack of resistance. Somehow, the pain only ballooned with the absence of the sword.

She dropped to her knees, her vision swimming.

Chat Noir’s arms were around her a moment later, warm and solid beneath her as she tried to breathe.

“M’lady! M’lday! Stay with me!”

But she couldn’t keep her eyes open. And she didn’t want to. Anything to escape the agonizing pain.

He held her through it all.

If she had known that would be the last time she saw him, she would have appreciated it more.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them the pain was gone, like it had never existed.

She looked down at her hand, flexed and curled her fingers one at a time. They were whole and working. She hadn’t been struck yet.

It wasn’t possible.

She didn’t have time to appreciate it. Chat Noir was still there, but he stood opposite her. His lips - stained black with hate - curled into a snarl, and he lunged forward.

She barely yanked her head back. His strike missed her by a fingernail’s width.

She wanted to cry. She hated seeing him like this. And she couldn’t bring herself to fight him.

She had loved him even then, hadn’t she?

She ducked under his arm, flipped him to the ground, and pressed her lips to his. It had worked once. It might work again.

He relaxed underneath her, completely melted in her hold. And suddenly, he was kissing her back.

But that hadn’t happened.

The warmth of his lips sliding against hers felt familiar. Like it was a moment they had shared a hundred times before.

When she pulled away, his lips were pink and stretched into a smile that reached his eyes.

Green eyes that were human instead of feline, that were not covered by a mask, that were shining with so much love.

His name bubbled on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t get it out past the tears that were constricting her throat.

How had she never realized?

For the first time in as long as she could remember, everything made sense, the stars had aligned and everything was right in the universe.

She kissed him again.

She had never imagined she could even be this happy.

It almost didn’t feel real.

She startled awake, her eyes wet and that feeling of euphoria still alive in her heart and chest. But the dream rapidly slipped away like an ocean wave pulling back from the shore. She tried to catch it, tried desperately to claw onto something, anything from that last few seconds of the dream. His name, the feel of his lips, the sound of his voice.

That feeling of everything being right in the world.

But nothing was right. She couldn’t remember his name because she had never known it. Chat Noir was lost to her, probably forever. She was never going to see him again. She would never know his name, never see his smile again or the real color of his eyes. She could barely picture his face at all - even with a mask.

She was forgetting him.

Devastated sobs wracked through her form, like a damn breaking all at once. She didn't understand why it was hitting her now. Chat Noir had been gone for years.

Adrien’s strong solid arms were around her instantly, and her cries only intensified.

She clung to him desperately, trying to find comfort and solace in his hold. Adrien was here, she loved him. He had lifted her up again and again, caught her in metaphorically the way Chat Noir had caught her literally time and time again.

It should have been enough. She wanted it to be enough.

“Marinette?” His voice was thick with both sleep and concern. He loved her.

And what had she done for him?

She had destroyed his life, lied to him, and let him fall in love with her without ever telling him the truth?

She had dreamed of her lost love the night of their engagement!

Adrien was everything! Adrien deserved everything!

Why couldn’t she give him everything?

Why couldn’t she let Chat Noir go?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She tried to shake her head, tell him it was nothing - just a nightmare, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“Talk to me, Mari,” he begged. “ Please.”

She had never been able to deny him. That had never changed.

“He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“He’s never coming back,” and she lost the ability to speak to another wave of wracking grief. “But I don’t understand! He’s been gone for years! Why does it matter now when everything is going so well?”

Adrien’s hands stroked her hair and the side of her face. “I’m not following,” he whispered, kissing her temple. His eyes were on her totally, swirling with such concern and care. “Start from the beginning.”

She shook her head in his hold. He was too good, too patient, too kind. And she loved him.

But she had never deserved him.

“I have been so unfair to you,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have said yes.”

“Yes to what?” he asked, but his face dawned in understanding a second later. “You shouldn’t have said yes to my proposal?”

His face flashed with hurt, but he buried it just as fast, then pure concern overtook his expression.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she reassured, gripping - strangling - his hands within her own. “There’s so much I haven’t told you. So much that you deserve to know before you agree to marry me.”

“So tell me.”

She looked away. What if he decided he didn’t need her? What if he disappeared the way Chat Noir had?

How would she survive it?

“You might not like what I have to say,” she choked out.

He pressed his forehead gently against her own. “Whatever it is, It can’t be worse than my father keeping my mother’s body in our basement while he terrorized the whole fucking city.”

She cried harder, her gaze dropping to the blanket puddled around them. She was going to come far closer than he thought.

He rubbed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Take your time,” he whispered, kissing the knuckles of their still joined hands.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. Your past is yours. I don’t own it. I don’t want to marry your past. I want to marry you as you are right in this moment.”

“I’m still in love with someone else,” she blurted out, still unable to meet his eyes.

He stilled in her hold, and she hesitated, suddenly aware of her heart trying to blast it way out of her chest. This wasn’t even the worst of it. He had no idea. Her hands shook violently, even when supported in his hold. Air must have gone into her lungs, but her body had clearly forgotten how to use it.

“Marinette,” he whispered, stroking her hands and her face, pulling her against him. “Look at me. It’s okay.”

“I have to tell you this!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He nodded. “Okay, and you will, but we have all the time in the world. It’s just you and me.”

You and me against the world.

“All you need to do right now is breathe. Slowly.”

His eyes shone like a lighthouse cutting through the fog. In his loving, patient gaze, she managed to suck in a long, slow breath.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, rubbing her shoulders and her back.

She took another, and the panic receded bit by bit until she just clung to him because she wanted to, because with him she always felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The end simply couldn’t come when he was there holding her hand.

This was what being loved felt like.

But how long would she get to keep it?

“I love you so much!” she gasped out. “You have no idea.”

He shook his head. “I love you, too.”

She tucked her chin against his chest and let herself listen to each beat of his heart.

The silence stretched and still, he didn’t ask her anything even after she admitted that she was in love with someone else.

He just held her because he loved her. She had to trust that, to trust him.

She needed to tell him everything.

She turned to him, only to catch his expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes distant and far away.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

Had she broken his heart already?

His eyes focused on her. “I’m… okay,” he said slowly. She didn’t buy it.

She opened her mouth to say as much.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he said first.

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he explained. “I trust you. If you say that you love me, and you choose me, that will be enough. You don’t owe me anything else.”

She shook her head. He didn’t understand. “I need to tell you this. I’m just terrified.”

“Of what? Of me?”

She grabbed his hands.

“No! I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of what this means for us. Because Adrien, this is big , bigger than I think you realize. And I don’t know–” she broke off, her throat tight. She tried to swallow the lump down and was only half successful. “I don’t know how to live without you in my life anymore. Because I love you so much, and more than that, I need you. I’m so scared.” She dissolved into tears again.

He pulled her against him once again. “Shh! Marinette, I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

“You don’t know that!”

His lips pressed closed and his arms tightened around her.

“Why haven’t you told me before?” he whispered. There was no accusation in his tone.

She looked away. “I’ve tried to tell you before.”

His face dawned with understanding. “This is what your panic attacks have been about?”

She nodded. “Some of them.” She felt lighter even only admitting that little bit.

He thread his fingers through hers. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, I’m listening.”

I’m Ladybug.

It was still only two words. She needed to say it.

Why couldn't she say it?

“You said you’re in love with someone else. Can you tell me who this was? I feel like I know most of the people that have been in your life.”

“You didn’t know him. No one knew that he was in my life at all. He was a huge part of my life, and then he was just gone all at once, I don’t know what happened to him. And because no one knew about him, I couldn’t even talk about him once he was gone.”

His arms tightened around her. “That sounds really hard. I lost a friend like that once.”

She turned in his arms. “Yeah?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It was my fault though. She kept reaching out, but that was right when everything happened with my father, and eventually she stopped…”

He trailed off.

“I don’t know if she’d even want to hear from me now.”

She stared at him flatly. “After this conversation is over, we’re going to figure out how to get you back in contact with your friend.”

He smiled, amused. “Marinette, it’s two in the morning.”

“I don’t care! No one who ever actually knew you ever wanted to lose you!”

“It’s the same for you, you know. If someone stopped talking to you, disappeared on you, it wasn’t because they wanted to be out of your life.”

She turned away. She wanted to believe him. “Maybe.”

His arms tightened around her again. “Tell me about him?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to hear about the other guy?”

“If he was important to you, yes! If you’ve never been able to talk about him with anyone and you need to, then yes! You could start with his name,” he teased with a smile.

She relaxed in his hold. “He was always just… there.”

“Ooh! He was there!” he echoed dramatically, grinning in amusement. “Very impressive.”

“Oh my god! Stop!” She laughed, playfully pushing him away. He came right back, grinning at her.

How did he always know what she needed?

Her eyes teared up. She was so lucky.

His fingers stroked her hand. “What is it?” he asked softly, but he was still grinning.

She shook her head. She couldn’t explain. Not right now. Instead she leaned backwards against his chest.

“I meant more that he was always there for me. In my absolute lowest moments, he was there offering me a hand.”

Not unlike Adrien showing up at her house when she was in a fit of depression or when he dragged her to therapy.

“When I was scared out of my mind, he would make me laugh.”

Just as Adrien had a few seconds ago.

“When I stopped believing in myself, he believed in me.”

Adrien did that now, too.

“It didn’t work out with him because I was blind and didn’t understand what I was feeling until he was gone.”

Was she destined to lose them both?

Adrien’s chin rested on her shoulder. “I’m glad you had that. I’m sorry that he’s gone.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Who was he?”

Chat Noir.

Two more words that should have been easy to say.

He burst out laughing.

She jerked forward and threw their shared blanket over his head. “Stop laughing!”

“I can’t believe you don’t want to tell me his name!”

She shook her head. “You’re just like him.”

“Just like who, Mari?” he teased.

“Chat Noir!” she shot back.

All expression fell off his face.

“What? You were in love with Chat Noir?” his voice was suddenly deathly quiet. All the mirth from the last few minutes was swallowed whole like it had never been.

This was the beginning of the end, wasn’t it?

Her eyes welled with tears. “I-I was Ladybug,” she choked out.

His hands dropped from hers to grab either side of his own face, his eyes wild in a way that she hadn’t seen since she tricked him into stepping outside a hotel room.

“You’re Ladybug,” he echoed, but he didn’t even look at her.

She grabbed his forearm, clinging probably too hard, but she couldn’t let go. She didn’t want to lose him.

“Adrien, listen to me. I know you probably hate me now–”

His head jerked up, his eyes suddenly clear and focused completely on her. “What?! No!”

“But I destroyed your life!”

She had destroyed so many lives that night.

He shook his head. “Marinette, I could never hate you.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I took your father from you. You were completely shattered. It was my fault. Nathalie died, Ezra died. There was a gardener. I’m sorry. I don’t remember his name. I should know his name.” She pulled away from him, and dissolved into a rocking puddle of tears. “I took your whole family from you.”

He leaned forward into her space, his hands were on her face urging her gaze toward him once again. “Mari, Mari. Look at me.”

She did.

“You didn’t destroy my life. You healed it after my father destroyed it. You didn’t hurt any of the people of Paris. You saved them again and again. My father is responsible for the destruction, injuries, and deaths in that last battle. You tried to stop him. You would have healed it all; it was my fault that you didn’t.”

She shook her head violently. “No, it wasn’t! You’re not responsible for your father’s actions! You weren’t even there!”

And then he withdrew, his shoulders hunched and quaking.

She didn’t understand. If he didn’t hate her, why was he hurting this badly?

“Adrien?”

His shaking only grew in magnitude, spreading from his shoulders to his hands and feet. She grabbed onto his arms, trying to steady him before he rocked out of the bed.

“Adrien?”

“M’lady,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

Not a single akuma had ever knocked the wind out of her chest as effectively as that single word on his lips.

No blow to the chest or strike to the head had ever made the world spin around her like this.

A new wave of tears rushed forward like a tsunami breaking past a dam.

“Ch-Chaton?” Even the name felt strange on her lips. How long had it been since she said his name?

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to leave you,” Adrien sobbed. “I hated myself and I thought I was just a burden and an embarrassment to you. I thought you would never forgive me for living in the same house as Hawkmoth and never realizing it. I thought you were so much better off without me.”

Her fingers tightened around his arms. He was real. He was there.

And he was okay.

He’d been right here. The whole time.

A laugh bubbled from her throat.

She had never lost him.

“And during that fight, I hesitated. He was my father. And then you got hurt.” His thumb ran over her hand, traced the nerve that his father had severed. “You were unconscious. And you couldn’t cast your cure. Afterwards, I learned Nathalie and Ezra died, and you, Marinette! I didn’t know you were Ladybug. You were also hurt because I didn’t act fast enough. And I hated myself. I had failed at the one thing I always swore I would do - protect Ladybug at all costs. And when I didn’t, I knew I wasn’t worthy of being your partner anymore.”

He was the best partner in the whole world.

She stroked the side of his face as he spoke with the backs of her fingers.

He never stopped being the best partner a girl could ever ask for.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally cried, still not looking at her. “I tried. I saw Ladybu… I saw you up there on the Eiffel Tower every night. I knew you were waiting for me.”

His voice cracked, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“But I couldn’t do it. I could barely get out of bed, and I definitely couldn’t leave that hotel room. Every time I even thought about transforming I’d fall into a panic attack. I was so lost and so terrified of telling you who I was. I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me with disgust, disappointment, or even pity. It was so bad Plagg told me to take off the ring. That I couldn’t get better or face the world while I was still wearing it. I wasn’t strong enough. I’m so sorry,” he babbled.

He was spiraling. She hugged him tightly.

“It’s okay now,” she told him. She wasn’t sure if that was even remotely true, but for the first time she truly believed that it would be. They would get through anything together.

Just as Ladybug and Chat Noir always had.

Adrien slowly calmed, and dabbed at his eyes.

“I was terrified to tell Ladybug who I was. I didn’t think Ladybug could ever care about Hawkmoth’s son.”

“I didn’t think Hawkmoth’s son could ever love Ladybug,” she whispered back.

He yanked her into another hug, clutched onto her just as hard as she held onto him.

“Marinette, I love you. I love you as Ladybug. And I love you as yourself— I love you so much.”

“And I’ve always loved you,” she said.

She pulled him into a desperate kiss, or maybe he pulled her. It didn’t matter. She needed him, needed to feel his breath on her skin, his hands on her neck and waist.

When they had to break apart for air, her mouth trailed down to his jaw and his neck, then to his shoulder. Now that she knew he was Chat Noir, she needed to check every centimeter of him up and down for scars she had missed, scars that her cure hadn’t fixed. She deposited kisses on each one, wishing that alone was enough to heal everything that had been done to him over the years.

And he kissed away every one of her tears.

They explored one another like it was the first time because it was. The first time she truly saw all of him and that he saw all of her.

He saw all of her and he still loved her.

When he burrowed inside her it felt like coming home, like she had finally found a missing piece of herself in him. She reached for his hand and their fingers interlaced as they rode the waves of their shared ecstasy. For one perfect instant she was whole and so was he, but only because they were together.

Afterwards, she lay on him with her ear pressed to his chest, listening to each beat of his heart as it slowed as they both caught their breath.

For once, it felt like everything was right in the world, and she was content to lay there and never move again.

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?” she murmured sleepily into his shoulder.

“What was it like for you after… right after we took down Hawkmoth?”

And suddenly she was very awake.

“Adrien, we don’t have to talk about any of that.”

“It was that bad?”

She squeezed his shoulder, craned her neck upward to kiss the tip of his chin.

But it wasn’t enough, he crumpled beneath her.

“Adrien, it’s okay,” she soothed. “Please don’t torture yourself over it. I beg you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out.

She shook her head. “No, there’s nothing you could have done differently. I understand now. And when Chat Noir was gone, you were the one that lifted me out of my spiral then. You saved my life without even knowing!”

He stilled. “Saved your life?”

Crap. She hadn’t intended to tell him that much.

“I-it was a long time ago.”

“Marinette, please tell me! Aren’t you tired of the secrets?”

He was right. Hadn’t she started this whole thing with the intention of telling him everything?

But the words still wouldn’t come. This would hurt, and she didn’t want to hurt him. Not like this. It wasn’t his fault.

“M’lady?” His face was twisted in pain. And as always, she couldn’t deny him anything.

“I-I tried to jump off the Eiffel Tower without my transformation.”

He gave off a strangled sound, his hands clung to her tighter.

Marinette swallowed before continuing. “It was just… everything felt so broken. So many people died that day, and I was supposed to fix it! And I couldn’t do anything.” And now that she had started, she kept going like a runaway train. She couldn’t stop. “I had shattered your life - one of my best friends - and my own, and the one person who usually picked me up when everything was lost had just vanished. I didn’t know what happened to Chat Noir. I wondered if he had been injured that day and bled out because I couldn’t cure everything. Because he wouldn’t just leave me, right?”

His cries only intensified.

“But other times, I thought he was right to abandon me for all that I destroyed. For all that I couldn’t fix. That was when I realized that I didn’t know how to live without him. That I didn’t want to.”

“How close?” he choked out.

She looked away, biting her lip. “Seconds.”

“What stopped you?”

And then she smiled up at him. “You did, actually. As Adrien, I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was about to jump. I had detransformed and was standing right on the edge. Tikki was screaming and I was about to take a step. And then you called me to tell me about your crappy week, you had a panic attack, and I invited myself over.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“You needed me. I figured I owed you the moon, so it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night with you. I figured the tower would still be there when you didn’t need me anymore. But you kept needing me.”

He pulled her closer, rubbing her shoulders, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. He was holding her like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go.

She held him just as tightly. “I couldn’t tell you how much I was hurting because I was afraid you’d stop asking for me.”

“I’ve never been more grateful for my breakdown in my life!”

She laughed. “Eventually, things were good. You were better, and I was better, too. Life didn’t seem impossible to face anymore. Then,” she took his hand, “It even seemed good - amazing at times!”

He offered her a watery smile.

“But I was still so convinced that it was temporary, that as soon as you knew you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

His hold tightened around her. He kissed her again. “I can’t imagine not loving you.”

“I was kinda clinging to you as my lifeline. And I’m sorry. It’s not your responsibility to save my life.”

He kissed her nose. “That’s where you’re wrong. It has always been Chat Noir’s responsibility to save Ladybug’s life.”

She wanted to argue with that even now, but it wasn’t the most important thing at the moment.

“But that’s why I was so scared to tell you that I was Ladybug. You had more reason than anyone to hate Ladybug. I thought… I thought if you couldn’t forgive Ladybug, I wouldn’t have that lifeline anymore.”

His fingers tightened around her. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to. Not ever.”

“I am sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“But apparently you were. Maybe neither of us knew it. But we’ve both been here this whole time.”

“I feel like you were helping me way more than the other way around in the beginning.”

“Adrien! I just said it was you needing me that saved my life! You would not believe how many times I felt rubbish at helping, and I thought about giving up, and then you would text me asking for something specific, and I would decide I had to at least do that - that the Tower would have to wait at least one more day.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, grinning. “And to believe I spent all that time feeling so guilty for needing help with the stupidest tiniest things.”

She laughed. “I think the thing I love most about us is that we both are just really good at being what the other needs even when we’re not okay.”

He kissed her softly. “I love you so much, Marinette. I’m sorry this secret was hanging over your head for so long. I should have told you about being Chat Noir ages ago. I almost did once. I wish I had gone through with it.”

“When was this?” she asked softly.

“I saw that video of Ladybug’s return. I was so happy, so relieved that she - that you were okay! I had never been sure once she disappeared.”

“You were happy?! But you were crying!”

He laughed. “I’m crying now, too!”

She kissed each of his cheeks.

“I was going to tell you then, but you fell into a panic attack and well, I didn’t want to say anything to make that moment more stressful. I thought about bringing it up later, but it almost didn’t seem to matter.”

“Didn’t matter?!”

“I didn’t know you were Ladybug! It didn’t seem like it mattered because I realized I didn’t want that part of my life anymore.”

“You still could have said hello to your partner!”

“I wanted to! But I still couldn’t transform. You weren’t the only one to have a panic attack that day. Every time I even look at the box I freak out.”

She grabbed his hands. “About your father? Or about Ladybug?”

“Both? All of it? I don’t know!” He looked down into their joined hands. “Being Chat Noir used to make everything better,” he continued. “I found freedom and love, and I was doing something good. When my father was unveiled… it felt like all of it was a lie.”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t! It was freedom and love and you did do so many good things. You protected this city even when it cost you everything.”

He didn’t say anything. She supposed even if he agreed with her, it would take time before he really believed it.

“Do you still have the ring?”

“I do. Do you have the earrings?”

She laughed. “I have the whole miraculous box!”

He pulled out the familiar black octogonal from the bottom of the drawer in his nightstand. She dug out a cardboard box from their closet and sat next to each other on their bed once again.

“On three?” she asked.

But Adrien didn’t so much as nod. His eyes were locked on the box. His hands trembled.

He couldn’t open the box. He still couldn’t transform.

Not with the Black Cat.

She set the bright red miraculous egg next to him, and slowly wrapped her hand around his shaking fingers, and slipped the box from his hold.

“I probably shouldn’t be trusted with the Ladybug. You take the earrings,” she offered. “I’ll take the Black Cat.”

He offered her a watery smile, and nodded in relieved agreement.

Tikki and Plagg manifested in sparkling light.

“You found each other!” Tikki exclaimed, rushing to Marinette immediately.

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien. Adrien’s head hung low, not meeting the kwami’s gaze.

“Kid?” Plagg prompted.

“Yeah?” Adrien answered, risking a glance up.

“It’s really good to see you.”

Adrien burst into tears. Plagg dove forward, nuzzling Adrien’s cheek. Marinette and Tikki were only a second behind.

They still had so much to talk about, so much to work through, but together with all three of them Marinette felt like her family had been reunited. And she felt whole and complete for the first time she could remember.

…

Her childhood kitchen table was filled with no less than six breakfast dishes. There were crepes, french toast, pancakes, and a whole pile of pastries. Her maman had even taken the time to make soft boiled eggs and there was some fresh quiche. When had her parents put all this together?

Marinette had only texted them and Alya and Nino an hour prior.

“Maman! Papa!” Marinette objected. “You didn’t have to go all out like this.”

Her maman just smiled. “Nonsense! It’s been a while since we’ve had so much company. Feels like it’s an occasion worth celebrating!”

Marinette glanced over at Adrien who offered her shrug and a smile. She let her fingers tangle with his. It was an occasion worth celebrating.

Alya piled food on her plate and plopped down happily next to Nino who was doing the same.

“So… I can’t help but notice you’re wearing a ring,” Alya commented, shooting her a sly smile.

Marinette glanced down at the miraculous on her finger. She supposed it made for an incredibly meaningful engagement ring. Maybe she could ask Plagg to add an emerald just the right color.

“It’s on the wrong finger,” her papa interjected.

Nino shook his head. “They’re just trying to be sly before they’ve told us anything.”

Red bloomed across Adrien’s cheeks, and Marinette giggled at his expression.

“That’s not her ring!” Adrien objected.

Marinette held it protectively against her chest. “What do you mean?! Of course it’s my ring!”

“I was going to take you shopping.”

“This ring is better than anything you could buy.”

“But—“

“We can customize it!” she said. “You know that we can.”

He paused, considering her. “You think he’d go for that?”

“Tikki says he’s a romantic at heart.”

Adrien laughed. “As I have long suspected. Okay, fine. That can be your ring.”

“So you’re engaged?” her papa asked, pure glee pouring from his eyes.

“We’re engaged!” Marinette cried, turning to Adrien and sharing a kiss.

“Congrats, mec!” Nino said, seizing Adrien in a hug.

“I’m so happy for you both!” her maman said.

“We want to get married in two weeks,” Marinette announced.

The rapid fire congratulations all stopped.

Marinette clung onto Adrien’s hands as anxiety bubbled in her chest in the face of four wide-eyed expressions.

Alya broke the shocked silence with peals of laughter. “And you said that we, ” she gestured to Nino and herself, “didn’t give you enough time for planning!”

And just like that the tension in the room was gone, and everyone was smiling again.

“The difference is we’re only inviting the four of you.”

Sabine frowned. “But your uncle and–”

Marinette shook her head. “It can only be you. We can do something else later for everyone else. Maybe for our first anniversary?” she asked, turning to Adrien.

He nodded, smiling. “I would like that.”

“Why?” her maman asked.

Adrien squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, surprised that she didn’t feel as nervous as she thought she’d be. She wanted to share this part of her life with her loved ones.

“We want Tikki and Plagg to be able to come,” she said.

Her papa’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Tikki? Plagg?” Adrien called.

Plagg phased from her purse, and Tikki from Adrien’s sweater.

“I’m Tikki! And this is Plagg!”

“You got any cheese?”

Marinette giggled, feeling a bit hysterical at having them completely out in the open in front of her parents and friends, even with Adrien there, after keeping them a secret for so long.

“Those are kwamis!” Nino exclaimed.

“Babe! Those are Ladybug and Black Cat kwamis,” Alya added solemnly, turning to Marinette concerned. Marinette patted her hand across the table in reassurance. It was so easy to smile back at her best friend.

Nino’s eyes widened and his face blanched, turning toward Adrien in horror. “Fuck, mec. That makes everything so much worse.”

Adrien barked out a laugh, shaking his head in disagreement. “And so much better,” he said, kissing the back of Marinette’s hand.

“Is that a no to the cheese?” Plagg asked mournfully.

Marinette passed him a cheese danish.

“Ummm…” Her papa blinked at Plagg who was hovering mid-air, happily inhaling the danish that was easily as big as he was like it was nothing. “What are you?”

Tikki bumped Plagg to the side, and took his place. “I’m the kwami of creation. Plagg is the kwami of destruction. We give Ladybug and Chat Noir their powers.”

Her maman’s hands went to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears.

“I was Ladybug and he was Chat Noir,” Marinette said.

Her maman stood up so fast her chair fell backwards. She ignored it to circle around the table, yanking them both into her arms. Her papa was only a few seconds behind. His large frame enveloped all of them at once.

“Did you know about each other?” her maman asked.

Adrien shook his head. “We’ve only known since last night.”

Her papa chuckled. “Is this why you’re in such a rush to get married?”

Adrien and Marinette blushed. “We were engaged last night before we figured it out, actually,” Marinette said defensively.

“Oooh! You have to tell us exactly how that went down! I want all the details!”

Marinette and Adrien were only too happy to share.

“Honestly, when she told me she was Ladybug, I felt like such an idiot,” Adrien was saying, his fingers firmly interlaced with hers. “I don’t know that anyone else could have gotten through to me.” He smiled at her.

She kissed him. “And no one else could have dragged me through self care.”

Her parents and Nino actually had tears in their eyes. Alya beamed at both of them. “That is such an amazing story! I’m so happy that you found each other! And Nino and I are going to plan you guys the best wedding ever!”

Marinette shook her head violently. “No! Your wedding was the best wedding! It’s not possible for you to beat that!”

Adrien and Nino both laughed. “You’re welcome to try,” Adrien said.

Marinette huffed. And then glanced back down at her hand. She needed to move the miraculous to the right finger.

“So Plagg, about this ring?”

He sighed heavily. “You have to renounce me. Before you put it on again, think about what you want, feel your mushy feelings for your partner, what the ring represents to you and to him. And then put it back on.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?” Adrien teased.

Plagg whirled around. “It’s a ring! Of course I’ve done this before!”

“It wasn’t always,” Tikki interjected. “He chose for it to be a ring.”

“Sugarcube! You’re going to make me regret us being reunited out in the–”

“Plagg, I renounce you.”

“Hey!” he objected, but then he was gone. Marinette slipped the ring off, and held it out to Adrien.

“Will you put it back on for me?” she asked.

With shaking hands, that she hoped were from giddiness with regards to her and to the moment, and not tied to any anxiety or panic he had regarding the miraculous itself, he took the ring from her.

She was distantly aware of the phone Alya had trained on them, and her parents clutching onto one another’s hands. But she ignored them. This moment was about Adrien.

“Adrien, my Chaton, I don’t know how to think about everything you mean to me. From the day we met, you have believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, you gave me a second chance when I was so quick to judge you. You’re so kind and forgiving to those who have hurt you, including me.”

He shook his head, kissing the knuckle of her ring finger. “You really have to stop blaming yourself, m’lady.”

“Only if you stop blaming yourself!”

His lips pressed together.

“Right! That’s what I thought. Anyway, as I was saying, I have been inspired by your resilience, and your example has helped me find my own. And I just want to say thank you for catching me over and over both literally and figuratively, for pulling me up when I felt I couldn’t go on. I’m standing before you today, breathing and smiling, only because of you. I love you as much as I know h–”

His lips pressed into hers, but she spoiled it by giggling. He just kissed her again, on the corner of her mouth, on her cheek, and on her nose.

He took her hand and slipped the ring on her left ring finger. It turned into a rose gold band with a gleaming green peridot set in the center. It didn’t match the Chat Noir green streaks in her hair. Not exactly. She looked up at Adrien’s smiling face. No, it was the exact same green as his eyes.

She was never going to take it off.

Plagg was back, smiling. “Congrats, kid!”

“Can we do the same thing with the earrings?” he asked, turning towards Tikki.

She looked surprised, and then she lit up! “Of course!”

He renounced Tikki, and took out the earrings.

“I’m not going to be able to put those back in for you,” she told him sadly.

He smiled at her, took both her hands in his own. “What you can’t do doesn’t matter. M’lady, you have always inspired me since the day we met. Both as Ladybug and Marinette you always stood up for what was right again and again even when it was hard. You have been my role model in determination and drive to keep going. You have taught me over and over that there’s always a solution, always something that can be done.”

Her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t always felt like she lived up to that, but that is what he had always seen in her, wasn’t it?

His hands tightened on hers. “And more than any of that, you taught me what love without conditions could look like. You showed me how to show that love with time and care and never ending patience. And I’m so lucky–”

He broke off suddenly. She squeezed his hands and smiled at him, waiting, knowing that whatever he said was worth it.

He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes. “I’m so lucky that you never gave up on me,” he choked out.

“I love you so much. And more than that, I love us.”

She nodded, silent tears slipping down her face too. “We’re better together,” she agreed. “You and me against the world?”

She held out a fist. He met it easily. And then pulled her into his arms, and dotted her face in kisses.

When he finally took the time to put the ladybug earrings back in, they transformed into sparkly pink flower studs.

He loved them. And she loved seeing him so happy to wear them.

Her papa swept them all up into another group hug. “It’s so good to see you all taking joy in living again!” he said.

Marinette giggled. She glanced up at Adrien.

Things weren’t perfect, but her papa was right.

They now remembered what it meant to live.

And they had so much living left to do. Together.

…

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #pre reveal #post hawkmoth defeat #identity reveal #hurt comfort #severe depression #reference to past suicide attempt #ptsd #happy ending #aftermath #my own content

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